[centre][img]https://i.imgur.com/XonJHsx.png[/img][/centre]
[center][h2]ROISIN MAGNOLIA[/h2]
[b][sup]The LITTLE GOD of the LITTLE THINGS | The FEIGHDFULC MATHAIR | LADY of the FADE | The KHODEXBORNDOTTR
LADYPRINCE of the FAE-FINTE | The FAERIE QUEEN | The GREAT VEILED ONE | MISTRESS of the PLACE BETWIXT ALL PLACES
HIGH QUEEN of the FAIRIES[/sup][/b]

&

[h2]ALLIANTHÉ[/h2]
[b][sup]The EMERALD QUEEN[/sup][/b][/center][hr]

Within the Tree of Life, all was darkness. A legion of spiders skittered silently about, maintaining the ever expanding webs within. The forms of helpless mortals, long since dead, were trapped in it still, like macabre offerings. At the centre of the giant hall, though none would well be able to see in that tenebrous darkness, were two shapes. One was a large cocoon containing the very embodiment of life, mortally wounded but still clutching the Jade Sphere that had slowed down the great Outer Beast. Below it was the untouched stone within which was enthroned the Khodex above which Sylia’s gifted crown floated.

Tenebrous silence and stillness had reigned in the great hall of the Khodex for long. Yet, it was never the purpose of the Khodex - that enigmatic and little-known purpose in the impossible mind of the world-tome - to rot in darkness away. And though the silence and stillness weighed heavily on that great hall, to the keen ear and sharp eye all was not as it seemed. There was a gentle pulse in the air, a ripple through the living bark of the Tree of Life. Its branches swayed as though billowed by winds, though not a breath swept over Arbor. In the great hall of the stone wherein the Khodex was enthroned, such power and mystery gathered as would strike terror into the hearts of the hundred million outer beasts and gods that sought after the world-tome. It gathered oh so slowly, wisped in the still air about the stone and curled about the webs the spiders had woven. Those unfathomable energies only concentrated around the stone as their tendrils stretched further and further away so that even through the highest branches of the Tree of Life they emanated and drifted and twisted and turned and twirled. Yet who has eyes for those dazzling glamours? What sight could penetrate the veil of the unseen to behold the unknowable colours of the coming god? For it was a god that pulsed through the bark, a god that reverberated through Arbor and the veins of the multitudes who called it their home.

Converging and coagulating about the stone, the energies seemed suddenly a stone about the stone! Full to bursting, there seemed nowhere left for those coalescing arcane powers to go. The Khodex stone within that impossible mass seemed weighed down and ready to crack- but at the last moment, when it seemed an inevitable thing, the force imploded in onto itself and suddenly surged upwards, sweeping the Divinium crown with them. The tendrils of pure magick were whipped back, whirling and twirling all the way, concentrating above the stone until at last they ossified into the form of the Little god of the Little Things. Stood upon the stone of the Khodex that had birthed her, she was crowned upon that world throne.

“Wow,” she whispered. The great hall was alight with her splendour and all about the webs melted away. The spiders, beholding her glory, cried out in adoration. Such was the ardour of their very sudden, very deep, and very great love that their hearts beating hearts could not very long comprehend it and- like the webs before- they burst in on themselves so that hearts and spiders alike melted away and floated into stardust away. This went unnoticed by the newly risen goddess, however, who floated up and, with a flick of her wand and a bursting of her most sweet and symphonious voice, had conjured a great bed, deepest mahogany in colour though it was made not of wood but of the unknowable magicks of the Little god of the Little Things. The resting goddess of life, now without the protection of her cocoon, was gently gathered up and, with loving gentleness, placed onto the bed. A roof came into shape atop the beds four posts, and from it descended curtains that, in later times, would be echoed by damask and silk brocade. Through it all, the voice of the Khodexborn daughter sounded as a most melodious symphony, immediately producing harmonious polyphonies of music and song; and in her song was;

[i][url=https://youtu.be/WlNpy5dECSU]Yet so pleasing the pain is so soft as the dart,
That at once it both wounds me and tickles my heart[/url][/i]

Allianthé did not awaken gently. When a million flickering lights vanished she stirred. Yet she was still so weak and her wound had only just begun to heal. She clutched the Jade Orb, unsure if the ravenous horse-like Outer Beast still existed. It was hard to see whomever had slain so many in just one fell moment. The goddess of life felt the aura of impossible beauty. If she gave in, she would yearn for it and then cry out. But life did not always need to be beautiful. “You- what are you?” She asked. An assassin? A messenger? The little goddess, drifting inside emanations within emanations of seraphic beauty, let off a smile of celestial perfection and hushed the other goddess softly. “There now,” she whispered songfully, “you’ve no need for fear, my lovely, you’ll be well in time. I’ve just tucked you safely, into bed, away.” A little silken hand brushed Allianthé’s head, and the other goddess shushed her tenderly and bid her not exert herself. If this had happened before she would have gladly laid down and rested. She still felt so sick and strange.

Despite how she felt, Allianthé did not listen. “I thank you for your kindness but I have a duty to fulfil.” She said as she floated up from the bed. It took a toll on her. The fingers on her right hand were already blackening with death. That loathful necessity. “I must protect life, and you- I think you may have slaughtered a million little lives just now. So I will have my answer.” As Allianthé rose, the Little god drifted around her head, now by this ear and now by that. “Why, whatever could you mean?” She hymned. “Surely you’re mistaken, I would never do such a thing! Is your illness fuddling your mind?” The Little god placed a hand on Allianthé’s head as though to check.

Was it a lie, or delusion? Either way, it made Allianthé apprehensive of this new divine. She carefully moved the Khodexdaugther’s hand away from her forehead. “I am not mistaken.” She said resolutely. A million tiny lives were extinguished. That is not something she would mistakenly feel. “Perhaps you should turn your worry to yourself for a moment?” The goddess of life suggested in earnest. The little becrowned goddess was taken aback. She drifted away from the other goddess, her countenance a veritable monument to pensiveness. “If you say that, and you are certain of it… and it is not some false vision wrought by your illness, then it must be true and I must accept it.” She looked around the great hall, empty now but for them, the bed, and the Khodex in the stone. “And if it is true, for I have no reason to believe you would deceive me, then you must believe me also when I say this: it was not I who did it, and if it was then it was simply a most terrible, egregious mistake - for which I will not hesitate at all to atone in whatever way you judge most just and correct.”

The goddess of life immediately eased up. She lamented the death of so many dear little lives, of course, but there seemed to have been no ill intent to it. “I’m afraid that I must insist that it was you.” Allianthé said. “But life is very fleeting. That was my mistake. I never envisioned an end. Alas, I’ll mourn the death of the million spiders but you don’t need to atone. Instead I’d wish to make a request.” Her mind was already thinking about the grander consequences. It would seem that this little goddess had an aura that could be very harmful, and very dangerous, should she step foot outside. “Beyond this place, beyond this tree, are a lot of living creatures very dear to me. Each of them with thousands of tiny duties they must fulfil for the good of all life. Your presence, it would seem, is just too much for regular mortals. It’s a shame to ask, truly, but I still wish to ask it of you: could you somehow lessen the effect you have on others?” 

The Little goddess listened to Allianthé’s words with utmost care, and the revelation that she was lethal to mortals stunned her. Her beauty and splendour? Her countenance of unrelenting kindness and hand of never-ceasing generosity? Had she a heart for such callousness, a hand for such abuse, a mind that could so much as conceive or comprehend of doing such frightful things? “That…” her voice came as a heartrending dirge, “that cannot…” her eyes were wide, wet, though no tears fell but fluttering winged magicks and moaning stardust, “cannot be.” She turned away in a fit of golden dust and a great mirror formed before her. She tearfully studied her features of empyrean loveliness and, deep in her heart, knew that what the other goddess had spoken was true. Her beauty was indeed such that no mortal heart could ever hope to withstand it. The mirror wilted away and the Little goddess turned back to Allianthé. “You… you are correct. It was… it was me.” She drifted downward in a winding droop until she landed on the barken floor and fell to her knees, her large dress rustling and gathering up around her. “Such loveliness… all that I am… denied under the sun… denied to mortal eyes.” Her tears of golden dust and fluttering magicks streamed ever more forcefully and rose up around her face and circumambulated her crowned head.

Allianthé’s heart broke. She flew down and hugged the newly encountered goddess to her - or as much as she could given the little goddess’ tiny size. “It’s alright.” She said, while gently stroking the little goddess’ hair. “I-I’m working hard to make sure mortal eyes can see you completely one day.” Or rather, they wouldn’t be able to die because of it. “Life is just a little… fragile. I’m sure you can go out a little veiled and still be the most beautiful creature here on Galbar.” But the goddess did deeply hope this new divine would be willing to veil herself at least slightly. Visibly comforted, the Little goddess smiled and about her the magicks beamed and were as warmth and sunshine once more - not the cruel sunshine of Itzal, but another sunshine that would have been never known but for that moment and that smile. “Yes, a veil. You’re right, that would be best.” And through the happy sunshine of that smile, some wintry sadness echoed before the Little god of the Little Things drifted from the life goddess’ hands. She raised her wand into the air and brought her magicks - such wondrous magicks and glamours, such whirling lights and delights, such mystical apparitions of joy and just a little fright! - and she spoke a word of power that grew suddenly and diffused the expanse of the hall. She paused suddenly, though, as though remembering something, and turned back towards Allianthé. “Oh and… I’m sorry that life must do that. That it must die, I mean. It’s a terrible thing for me to think of; I can only imagine how it must be for you.” She sighed sadly, her breath emerging the rosy hue of broken hearts. “I do hope, though, despite all the pain it brings, that you are able to forgive those who transgress against you just as easily as you forgave me.” She smiled at Allianthé. “There will be those who do not - cannot, perhaps - apologise. Cannot see the hurt they cause. I wish never to be like that! And I wish, too, and hope, that you also will never be - that you will remain eternally like this: Allianthé of the All-Forgiving Heart.”

It was probably unwillingly - hopefully. But those last words hit Allianthé hard. Already she was compromising. She hid her right hand’s blackened, deadened fingers away. As if this new goddess wouldn’t feel the taint on her essence. Yet Allianthé conjured a smile. “You’re too kind.” With those words she banished her own insecurities. “Oh but forgive me! We have skipped such an important part. My name is Allianthé, goddess of magic. It’s a pleasure to meet you-” She held out her left hand, leaving the space in the room and the conversation open for the little veiled goddess. Cocking her head to the side, the Little god gave Allianthé a bemused look, before a sudden realisation dawned and sparkled vividly in her eyes. “But of course! How [i]would[/i] you know me,” she warbled. Breaking the great conjuring and channelling of her magics, she soared towards Allianthé and, twirling once in the air, curtsied most deeply and placed a little hand on one of the goddess’ extended fingers. “Most lovely Allianthé, of vivacious life that - for all the forces of cessation in the world! - spurts forth ever more strongly, undeterred and untired; who has but little time for petty rage and feuds, for in her heart is but the love of life and desire to see it, against all the odds, again and again bloom! I greet you with the greeting of love, drawing as I do from the eternal font of generosity and loving-kindness: never hesitate to call on me, for I will certainly hear all those whom I love and who love me; call simply the name of Roisin Magnolia and I shall be at your side.”

“Well in that case.” Allianthé said with a bright smile. “Roisin Magnolia!” She bellowed for the whole Tree. Roisin Magnolia surged upward with the sound, surprised, but certainly seemed to hover to attention. For a moment, Allianthé  allowed the world to return to calmness again. “I do have two requests of you, if either are not too much trouble of course.” She followed up with a much calmer tone. “For one, I made this Tree for a specific purpose: to house the venerable Khodex.” She motioned at its black, stone cocoon. “And to teach mortalkind about us: the Divine.” She then motioned at the alcoves, of which only two were filled. “I’d ask you to place a representation. So when the Tree opens again, all can learn about you. There is also the matter of Arbor. The city outside of the Tree. I ask the divine to grant it a boon. So it may become a splendid city and a representation of unity of all the divine! What do you think, Roisin Magnolia?” With a smile, the Little god of the Little Things responded: “You are granted all you ask, my dearest Allianthé - even where my heart of the most ungenerous sort (and it isn’t!) still would I not have rejected you.” 

Without skipping a beat, the Little god of the Little Things danced upwards in swirl of gold and magick, humming a tune and nodding her head to the melody as she merrily flicked her magicks and unfathomable arts into being. With skilful sweeps of her arms and turns of her divine form, delicate whisks and dabs and strokes of her wand - such subtle and swift movements and dazzling manoeuvres that the eye could do little but behold them with awed delight and reverential wonder.

With the adroit poise of a veritable master of her craft, Roisin Magnolia weaved the glamorous powers of her very essence and, weaving it about her like a whirlpool and before her like a waterfall and above her like so many stars and below her like the flow of thundering rivers into the ocean and behind her like the thousand wings of of the wind- she surged forth and, with a fluid swish and a hymn of great power, projected all those energies onto the alcove where they formed into a seven-inch life-sized levitating effigy of the Little god of the Little Things. Her form was adorned in a great flowing dress of pastel blues and whites boasting a large ball gown skirt with swirling swags. Flowing over it all was a sprawling cape of brocaded sheer silk, while her hair was veiled with a wimple of white damask atop of which rested an analogue of Divinium crown. Draping down over her face entire was a veil of white and gold silk brocade that prevented even this mere echo of her splendour from lancing the hearts of onlookers. Her hands came together at her navel, where they were both restively clasped about a representation of her wand. The magics swirled about the effigy, giving it a certain vivacity. 

Satisfied, Roisin Magnolia turned and fluttered away, sprinkling golden and blue magicks in her wake until she came to rest upon the Khodex stone. There she once again flicked her wand and brought such magickal arts and mysteries to bear as caused an image of the city of Arbor to manifest itself before her. Sweeping her wand over the city, she poured such magicks into its epicentre that the piled up - bright and golden - about the base of the Great Tree. There, those magicks ossified and the tree rose up. The world about them rumbled and reverberated every so gently. The tree rose until, when it came to a stop, it was firmly rooted atop a knoll of not inconsiderable size. Entryways unknowable but to those who walked the ways of glamour glowed all over the hill, and it hummed with silent magicks and whispered of pathways and winding routes and gifts and delights. With a flick of her wand, the vision of the city dissipated and Roisin Magnolia ascended from her Throne of Stone and neared Allianthé once more. “It is done, loveliest Allianthé. I have enthroned the Great Tree upon a worthy throne. Perhaps the people of this magnificent city will, if their eyes are open to these my glamorous arts, find paths by which to know the heart of this treethrone, whose name is the Siardha. But if they cannot, still let them know that I have graced them to be the custodians of this greatest of sacred places; in honouring it they honour the Little god of the Little Things and I shall with them be pleased so that my magicks drift ever in their favour.” The Little god beamed as the harmonious strain of her voice echoed into silence away.

“This is truly the most lovely of gifts!” Said Allianthé as she felt the glamorous presence beneath her feet now. “You have my thanks, Roisin Magnolia. I do not forget those who are kind and helpful. If there is ever anything I or my creations can do for you, please do not hesitate to call upon me.” For a moment Allianthé felt true joy. It was enough to make her forget her fight and her own illness. Reality soon reminded her, as drops of holy ichor began to fall from her newly opened wound.

The goddess of life floated up again. “Apologies.” She said. “It would seem that I’m not yet well. Worry not. I have a mortal prophet just beyond the Tree of Life. She’ll preach your existence to Arbor. I am certain that Arbor will embrace your glamorous arts with the proper reverence.” She softly landed upon the bed that Roisin Magnolia had made for her. Already her mind was drifting into the world at large. “Roisin..” Her corporeal body was slowing. “A finally.. warning.” Her words became labours. “There are.. monsters.. In the South. Beasts that.. Kill and slaughter. You and yours; be safe.”

Allianthé did not pass out. Instead most of her essence and presence of mind slipped from her wounded, corporeal form into life and the living all around. With concern, the Little god swept her wand so that the form of the life goddess was laid onto the bed and her form covered. She observed her thoughtfully for a few moments, and then with a flick of her wand the curtains of the great bed descended so that the recovering goddess of life could rest in warmth and darkness. Returning to the Throne of Stone, she swept her eyes once more across the great hall - which was illuminated by her splendour and magicks - and in her heart there was sadness still that her fate was the veil. For a few moments she seemed despondent, but then a brightness returned to her. “It is not beauty that is offered up so that all may freely fill the hungry gaze - beauty is a pearl hidden, and only the worthy diver may rest his gaze at long last upon it. So dive, dive deep, you who would behold the countenance of the Khodexborndottr who sits upon the Throne of Stone.” And with that happy declaration, she flicked her wand with a hymn of, “open wide and part - so we may depart; mugwort seed and opium poppy, rowan branch and iron holly; thus we launch the heart - through the veil a dart!” and upon her song the Veil parted for her as though welcoming a long-lost lover and friend. With a final glance over her shoulder towards Allianthé, Roisin Magnolia drifted into the Veil. The curtain closed behind her and, with the splendour of the Little god of the Little Things gone, darkness descended once more upon the Khodex and the throne.

[list][*][hider=Summary]
Inside the Tree of Life, within the great hall of the Khodex, all is darkness. Spiders have filled the place with webs and Allianthé lies injured in her cocoon. With her glamorous energies pulsing through the tree, Roisin is born. Her splendorous countenance melts the webs away and the spiders - on seeing her - are utterly smitten and filled with adoration. So much so that their hearts cannot handle it and burst, and so they perished and meld into Roisin’s glamour. Allianthé’s awakens and castigates Roisin for killing them, but Roisin professes innocence - but eventually sees her guilt and begs forgiveness. Allianthé relents, but tells her that she should not let mortals see her in all her splendour else they will similarly perish. This saddens Roisin, but she is glad that Allianthé forgave her and agrees to ‘veil’ herself - thus she prepares to leave the material world and retire into the Veil where she will do no harm. Before that though, Allianthé remembers that they had not been introduced. Roisin is confused, as she knows Allianthé, but then realises that Allianthé does not in fact know her. Introductions are made, a friendship is forged, and Roisin tells Allianthé to only call her name if she ever needed her and she will find her there. On cue, Allianthé calls Roisin’s name and asks her to place a statue of herself in an alcove in the Khodex great hall and to also grant Arbor a boon. Roisin, ever-generous, agrees. She casts an effigy of herself into the alcove and then creates a hill beneath the Tree of Life, thus raising it, to act as a ‘throne’ for it. This hill is a holy site named the Siardh (see Of Might & Glamour below). With a final warning from Allianthé about the outer beasts in the south, the life goddess goes to rest in a bed of Roisin’s making and Roisin conjures up a portal, realises that veiling beauty may actual make it of greater value, and retires into the Veil.
[/hider]

[*][hider=Of Might & Glamour]Roisin’s opening Might: 10 Might

–4 Might (empowered to 8 Might by Glamour) to Create the Godsbane Artefact known as “the Wand of Roisin Magnolia; the Sceptre of the Faerie High Queen; the Godwand; the Rod of Making and Unmaking;  the First Wand; the Gramarye-font”
[indent]The Wand of Roisin Magnolia is, without a doubt, the most powerful implement of magick known to exist. With a flick of this wand, magicks of impossible might and power are called to bear and glamorous crafts and arts otherwise unfathomable to even the most magically adept mortals are conjured with little more than a flick. In the hands of the Little god of the Little Things, it is a great beacon and shield against all cruelty, tyranny, betrayal, unkindness, and ungenerosity in the world.[/indent]
–1 Might (enhanced to 2 Might by Glamour, to account for for unique qualities) to Create the Holy Site “the Siardha; the Treethrone”
[indent]The Siardha is a hillock grown beneath the Tree of Life, acting as an effective ‘throne’ for it. The hill has glamour-concealed entryways. These can be found by those adept in the ways of glamour or by anyone who follows a creature of glamour (such as a faerie) as it enters. In some cases, an individual lost on or around the hill may inadvertently find an entryway. Within the hill, it is possible to walk the pathways of the Veil. In this manner, one can enter the Veil, that world of the Little god of the Little Things, and possibly attend her high court or the court of any of the many kings and queens of the faeries. One who comes before the Faerie High Queen is unlikely to depart without some great gift, for she is a byword for generosity. Care should be taken with the lesser kings and queens of the fair folk, for not all as unstintingly generous and pure-hearted as their progenitor.
Those entering the Siardha may also avoid entering the Veil altogether and instead walk its paths in order to arrive at other locations across Galbar. The most stable of these pathways lead to other holy sites, though it is possible to walk more unstable paths to locations where there are great concentrations of Arcana or other magickal energies. Care should be taken when walking such unstable paths, however, especially those tied to magicks known to bring about great harm even in their idle states.
The Siardha, being a point of melding between the material world and the immaterial, as well as a point of especially great concentrations of glamour and other magicks, will produce and host many magically-useful minerals, plants, fungi, and other naturally-occurring material. Care should be taken, however, for while Roisin Magnolia is most generous, there are those among her children who are vindictive indeed and do not take kindly to those who take from them without permission.[/indent]
Roisin’s closing Might: 5 Might[/hider][/list]