[center][h2][color=778899][b]Aveira[/b][/color][/h2] [IMG]https://i.imgur.com/f1dJpjn_d.webp?maxwidth=640&shape=thumb&fidelity=medium[/IMG][/center] Pain. Fury. Agony. That was all she had to focus on. The rest was a haze - a blur of memories unsorted and unaddressed, slipping between fingers. Where was she? When was she? Who was she? That last question still lingered. Aveira. Betrayed general of her creator. She felt the sword in her hand, the blistering heat and animosity that radiated down through her arm as she wielded it. Yet it was not there. Aveira was not sure if she had arms with which to wield a blade anymore, nor could she see anything but a black void - hindering her from confirming her suspicions. Fragments of being returned to her mind, single panes of memories ordered to return some semblance of awareness. She had never been disloyal, of this she was certain. Battled to fulfill a goal set by her creator. It was not her own failing, but her creators refusal to admit her fickle shift in mood and goals that landed her here. A scapegoat. A venomous contempt filled her, even as she was acutely aware that this was the fate of all who served another. To be used and discarded when it was no longer convenient to be kept around. She wasn't surprised, just angry. She tried to move in the inky void, but found she could gain no purchase nor flail any limb. Another painful flash of fractured thoughts brought her recollection to her banishment - her creator and her disgusting enemy-turned-companion dissolving her to wipe clean the memory of her creators fickle mood swings and ulterior motives. She was unmade, and yet here she was. Stewing in nonexistence in some unknown void. A sliver of contempt replenished by some notion of mercy. Perhaps her creator had doubted herself in unmaking her and stowed her away - perhaps it was simply a cosmic mistake. All Aveira knew is that she could no longer feel the presence of her creator, nor of the teeming lifestream that had infused all of creation. She was elsewhere, or elsewhen. Suspended in nothingness and made to wait. Perhaps this was the punishment for a service well done. The prize for loyalty. She vowed then never to serve again, though knew it was a mere distraction from the fact that she was unmade and banished. How would she ever make good on such a promise when she could not even speak? As if called upon by her seething thoughts, a distant voice pierced the veil of existence. Elsewhere, and elsewhen, a call had resounded across creation - it was only by happenstance that it had breached whatever prison Aveira found herself in. [b][i]“I am Anath Homura! Come forth to me, and become the cosmic cultivators and architects of a new realm! Join my pantheon, and become Divine! Shape the sturdy land, shift the singing sea, sculpt the soaring sky, rewrite reality in accordance with your visions!”[/i][/b] For a time, all that existed in this featureless place was this call to action. Not even Aveira comprised enough form and will to contain the echoing thought once it had breached through. It made her desperate for freedom, and Aveira struggled against the bonds of creation. She called out for aid, but did not have a voice with which to speak aloud. This was her only chance. She would answer the call and gain her second chance. A new life. A new domain without fickle creators and treacherous overlords. Aveira willed herself towards the call, straining all her spirit to find the breach in the veil and ride this summons back from whence it came. This time, she would make sure noone could do this to her. This fate worse than death. It was her time to wield unyielding power. She felt the words close around her and pull her with them. Rewrite reality according to her vision. "I accept." [hr] The universe under Anath Homura's rule shifted imperceptibly. Reality groaned with an inaudible pop and where there once had been nothing but wasteland, there now stood a winged woman with skin like ashen snow. Aveira trembled and nearly toppled over as the sensation of being washed over her senses all at once. Sight, smell, sound, touch, taste. In an instant she perceived the world around her, but it was nothing quite like she recalled. She looked herself over and found her form foreign as well, yet could not truly recall how it differed from what shape she had worn before. She extended her wings to feel winds whip and howl among her feathers. This was new as well, even though she knew she had always had wings. Faint recollections of her creator, old wars, and the devastation of her prime enemy - all seemed faint and growing more distant with each passing second. Almost as if this new place burrowed itself into her mind and replaced her old self with new experience. The angelic warrior found herself unbothered by this; deep down she knew she wore her ideal form, untouched by meddling or subterfuge. And hazy, spiteful memories were slowly replaced by a singular purpose built from the very words that guaranteed her freedom. A vision for reality itself. It was her time now. Her prideful adulation was cut short by the rumble of the earth, and she gazed out to the horizon to see a massive silver structure - no, weapon - strike and burrow deep into the dirt and rock, kicking up dust and debris that was still unable to fully cover this majestic assault. It towered over all and dominated the skyline even compared to mountains. The angelic conqueror realized now that she wasn't alone. All around her she could sense shifts in the atmosphere, rumblings from below, and the groaning dirt being invaded by roots. Aveira stretched out her hand, and in her grip a long staff with a sharp, forked prong extended out of thin air. The obsidian metal with which it took shape resembled no other material, but was formed from the recesses of her mind to establish her vision as truth. Doubling as both a weapon and a tool to herald her rule, it rested neatly in her hand like an extension of her arm. Likewise, all around her torso and limbs this black metallic substance took hold, molding itself around her form like an impenetrable fortress and protection of her modesty. Though she was certain she was no longer home - she felt the absence of her old creator deep in her being - there was no telling who was also here, or how soon they would oppose her ambitions. It was with that first thought that Aveira spread her wings, and lifted up far from the wasteland in which she had arrived. She struck out westward with rapid pace, intent on avoiding whatever had assaulted the planet with such force. She needed knowledge of the land, before the time came. That had been her mistake last time. Relying on another for knowledge. Now, it was going to be all hers. [hr] [hider=Summary] Aveira is not-existing in a timeless void prison of some sort, due to her malicious actions in past events unknown to both the reader and her. That's when she hears Short-Mommy's call, and uses it to break free from her corner of unreality. She is all like 'wow a planet. Mine now lol' when she witnesses a giant spear attacking the planet. This makes her wary and she makes weapons and armour. Then she goes west towards the desert. [/hider] [hider=Spending] Aveira had: 5/5 3 MP - created Plate of the Conqueror - a black plate armor that inspires feelings of doubt and niggling worry in all but the most stoic. Mortals who wish harm on the wearer rapidly descend into panic attacks and health-endangering catatonic anxiety when viewing the armor. 3 AP - (discounted from 5) - created Scepter of Subjugation - an obsidian weapon versatile enough to be used as a staff, spear, lance and scepter. Directed at mortals, it makes any command or ultimatum spoken by the wielder into a tangible force. Listeners are both compelled to serve to the utmost of their ability and physically burdened by the weight of the words. Attempting to reject the obligation is lethal at worst, and excruciating agony at best. Even normally rebellious people will find themselves rationalising servitude, and completion of their duties. Spent 3 MP towards Terror. Remaining: 2/2 [/hider]