[hider=Macaria, goddess of blessed death][center]
[sup][h1]
[color=424141][i]g͏ o͏ d͏ d͏ e͏ s͏ s͏   o͏ f͏   b͏ l͏ e͏ s͏ s͏ e͏ d͏   d͏ e͏ a͏ t͏ h͏[/i][/color]
[sub][color=000000]μ α κ α ρ ί α. [/color]
[color=A17A74]μ α κ α ρ ί α.[/color][/sub]
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[/row][row][cell][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/nbnrwre.jpg[/img][/center][/cell][cell][sup][center][color=C1A87D]danielle rose russell[/color] | [color=A17A74]#A17A74[/color][/center][/sup][center][sup][h3][color=A17A74]████████████████████████[/color]
[color=#2c363b]𝕿 𝖍 𝖊   𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊  [/color]
[color=C1A87D]𝕿 𝖍 𝖊   𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊[/color][/h3][/sup]

[color=C1A87D][color=A17A74]⌜ 𝐄 𝐏 𝐈 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐓 ⌟[/color]
[sub]Macaria [sub]⌜μακαρία⌟[/sub][/sub]

[color=A17A74]⌜ 𝐃 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍 ⌟[/color]
[sub]Deity of Blessed Death.[/sub]

[color=A17A74]⌜ 𝐏 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟[/color]
[sub]Greek Pantheon.[/sub]
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[h1][color=A17A74]♤[/color][/h1][/center][/cell][cell][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/EOtGnuJ.jpg[/img][/center][/cell][/row][/table][center]
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[color=#A17A74]𝐃 𝐈 𝐕 𝐈 𝐍 𝐄 ♤ 𝐏 𝐎 𝐖 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒[/color] 
[color=D9CAB1][sub][sub][sup]𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝔂 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓵 𝓾𝓹 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓪 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵[/sup][/sub][/sub][/color] 
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[indent][indent][indent][indent][sup][h3][color=A17A74]████████████[/color]
[indent][color=#2c363b] 𝐄 𝐌 𝐏 𝐀 𝐓 𝐇 𝐘[/color]
[color=C1A87D]𝐄 𝐌 𝐏 𝐀 𝐓 𝐇 𝐘[/color][/indent][/h3][/sup][indent][indent][sub][color=C1A87D]  /ˈempəTHē/[/color][/sub][/indent][/indent]
[quote][sup][color=C1A87D]Like cold water, their emotions seep into her chest and burrow deep into her heart. It is powerful, overwhelming, until she doesn’t know where she ends, and they begin. Being a goddess of a blessed death, a merciful death, Macaria senses how the dying feel to empathize with them in their last moments. The unfortunate part is that Macaria cannot turn it off or on, and it doesn’t just stop with the dying. Like ley lines she cannot escape, Macaria is connected to anyone in her vicinity. Mortal emotions are like a scorching touch within her soul; immortal emotions are muted, like diluted sugar in water. Yet her only reprieve is when she is alone.[/color][/sup][/quote][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]
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[sup][h1]
[color=#A17A74]𝐈 𝐍 𝐍 𝐄 𝐑 ♤ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐋 𝐅[/color] 
[color=D9CAB1][sub][sub][sup]'𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓪𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓲'𝓶 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓪 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲'𝓶 𝓼𝓸 𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓹𝔂[/sup][/sub][/sub][/color] 
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[color=#2c363b]𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬  [/color]
[color=C1A87D]𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬[/color][/h3][/sup]
[color=C1A87D][color=A17A74]⌜[/color] Observant [color=A17A74]&[/color] Reasonable   

Honest [color=A17A74]&[/color] Genuine 

Empathetic  [color=A17A74]&[/color] Forgiving[color=A17A74]⌟[/color][/color]

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[color=#2c363b]𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬  [/color]
[color=C1A87D]𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬[/color][/h3][/sup]
[center][color=C1A87D][color=A17A74]⌜[/color] Naïve [color=A17A74]&[/color] Gullible 

Overwhelmed [color=A17A74]&[/color] Turbulent 

Straightforward [color=A17A74]&[/color] Impolite [color=A17A74]⌟[/color][/color][/center]

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[color=#2c363b]т н є   м σ я т α ℓ  [/color]
[color=C1A87D]т н є   м σ я т α ℓ[/color][/h3][/sup]

[color=C1A87D][color=A17A74]⌜ 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐀 𝐒 ⌟[/color]
[sub]Penelope "Poppy" Mavros.[/sub]

[color=A17A74]⌜ 𝐑 𝐄 𝐂 𝐎 𝐑 𝐃 𝐄 𝐃   𝐀 𝐆 𝐄 ⌟[/color]
[sub]Twenty-Three.[/sub]

[color=A17A74]⌜ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐗 𝐔 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘   &   𝐆 𝐄 𝐍 𝐃 𝐄 𝐑 ⌟[/color]
[sub]Pansexual & Cisgender. She / Her.[/sub]

[color=A17A74]⌜ 𝐎 𝐂 𝐂 𝐔 𝐏 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟[/color]
[sub]Barista.[/sub]
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[color=#A17A74]𝐋 𝐈 𝐅 𝐄 ♤ 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘[/color] 
[color=D9CAB1][sub][sub][sup]'𝓬𝓪𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓷'𝓽 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵𝓼 𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓹𝔂?[/sup][/sub][/sub][/color] 
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[color=#2c363b]𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲  [/color]
[color=C1A87D]𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲[/color][/h3][/sup]
[color=C1A87D][color=A17A74]⌜[/color] 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊   𝕷 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 [color=A17A74]⌟[/color][/color]
[hider=♤][indent][color=C1A87D][sup]Like the sip of cool water when parched, the gentle breeze on a hot summer day, the touch of aloe on a sunburn… Macaria sits on the edge of your deathbed, her fingers tracing circles on the back of your hand as she prepares to take your soul on the last voyage. Aches and pain bury deep in her muscles and bones – she weeps with you, her heart aching above all as you draw your last breath.

Borne of the union between Hades and Persephone, Macaria has taken up the mantle of blessed death. She sends the dying away with a merciful, understanding hand. With each death she witnesses, her heart bleeds a bit more. Despite the pain she feels and witnesses, Macaria is stalwart and dutiful to the responsibility her father has delegated to her.

When they fall, she falls with a heavy heart, for no merciful hand shall help the passing of the blessed souls.
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[color=#2c363b]𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲  [/color]
[color=C1A87D]𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲[/color][/h3][/sup]
[color=C1A87D][color=A17A74]⌜[/color] м σ я т α ℓ   ℓ ι f є [color=A17A74]⌟[/color][/color]
[hider=♤][indent][color=C1A87D][sup]She never knew the living mortals; her familiarity began and ended with the dying ones. Falling was like burning from the inside out, ripped from her purpose and scorned by her homeland. Landing was a simmer, a rising boil beneath her skin as an influx of human emotions hooked like thorns into her skin.

Macaria was not built for the turbulent emotions of the living, only the stagnating regrets of the dying. Overwhelmed, Macaria fled from humanity and lived the life of a hermit, enclosed in her walls for centuries. She only ever emerged from her sanctuary in the hills of England to taste the sweet nectar of Ambrosia. Folk tales were spread about her rare sighting – a fae in the woods, a witch in the hills.

Humanity changes so often. Humble huts became steel towers and brick townhouses. Eventually, there was no refuge as the humans were ever expanding. Like a bird forced from its tree, Macaria ventured into society for the first time in centuries. 

Her introduction to the world was not a good one – it was with bombs and death and the acrid smell of burning flesh. World War I was ravaging the lands and Macaria’s senses were overwhelmed with sorrow and anger and bitterness. With nowhere to hide, Macaria did what she did best – she helped the dying. Macaria became a nurse, serving near the western front where she tended to the wounded and helped the dying pass. And in a world of sorrow, anger, and bitterness, she saw a light.

His name was Thomas and they were in love. It was a burning, consuming love, and Macaria’s senses were overwhelmed with her devotion. Thomas was a soldier and she tended to him on the battlefield, wiped the sweat from his brow, kissed the cuts on his knuckles. And when he died, when he closed his eyes for the final time, the love in her heart was blown out like a candle in the wind. The love was never hers; she had only echoed his love for her back, confusing when he began and she ended.

It felt like shame, like a betrayal to the dead Thomas who, though she did not love, she cared for. Macaria distanced herself from humans, hid the emotions she felt behind steel walls, and killed the growing humanity in her chest.

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[color=#2c363b]𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬  [/color]
[color=C1A87D]𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬[/color][/h3][/sup]
[color=C1A87D][color=A17A74]⌜[/color] α м в ι т ι σ и ѕ [color=A17A74]⌟[/color][/color]
[hider=♤][indent][color=C1A87D][sup]To kill the humanity in her once and for all and regain her role as the goddess of blessed death. Macaria has been broken by emotions that are not her own; her once placid personality has become turbulent with the vivid feelings of the living mortals. Macaria wishes for nothing but to tend to the dead again and leave the living mortals to the experts.
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[color=C1A87D][color=A17A74]⌜[/color] f є α я ѕ [color=A17A74]⌟[/color][/color]
[hider=♤][indent][color=C1A87D][sup]Sometimes, Macaria wakes up in a cold sweat, dreams and nightmares of her godhood being forgotten. She dreams of living as a normal mortal, experiencing the pain and torture of being human. Macaria cannot think of a worst fate than forever feeling the pains and aches as vividly as humans do.[/sup][/color][/indent][/hider][/center]
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