Recent Statuses

3 mos ago
Nothing is essential//
8 mos ago
Reaching out broke my heart. The following silence reminded me of my desires. The shards discarded, I quickly departed.
2 yrs ago
That's grim.
2 yrs ago
Jellyfish Pirate.
2 yrs ago
Be easy.


This user will never have a Bio because she never knows how to summarize herself, or her interests.

Most Recent Posts

I made a Twitter, today. My intent is somewhat ignoble.
Character Sheet for Etreyja Eskridge

Name: Etreyja Atarah Eskridge

Title: Esoteric Scientist//Weaponized Unit 000//Former Head Magitechnician of The City of Light

Height: 5'8

Weight: 116 lbs.

Age: 309 (True), 31 (Physical)

Race/Species: Altered Human (Prime Entity) : Her continued exposure to 'Resonance', toying with biodata, and subtle metaphysical modification has left Etreyja as an 'Altered Human'. A 'Prime Entity' is any entity bound to the confines of Corporeal Reality by the nature of their existence. Etreyja is originally human and still bears a great resemblance to them on a biological level, save for the complete cessation of her aging process and modifications to her 'Resonance Pathways' making her something of a prototype to her research's original goal.

Tier/Influence: 4 -- Etreyja is a low-level 'reality' manipulator, utilizing a blend of magic and technology.

Group(s): N/A

Appearance: Of slight, narrow build and a remarkably pale complexion there is little luxurious to Etreyja's visage. She bears not the curvaceous nature of her feminine birth, and scant shows stretches of skin beyond her hands, neck and head. Almond-shaped eyes, feverish in their viridescence and ringed with the darkness brought on from insomniac episodes, sit situated behind a pair of extremely thin lenses. A long nose, oft imperiously stared down, serves as a notably poignant angle on her face; a contrast to the asymmetrical fullness of her lips, but complimentary to her somewhat similarly distinct chin.

Her hair is black and perpetually in disarray, cascading down to her lower back, sometimes obscuring her face. It is not unusual to see Etreyja wearing a long white coat, black undershirt, blue jeans and a pair of unremarkable boat shoes. She does not adorn herself with jewelry, lavish clothing, or hassle with makeup; making her rather plain in the eyes of most.

Personality: Often sardonic and lackadaisical when her attitude is taken at surface-level, Etreyja prefers to keep her emotions in a gray spectrum; a mask of monochrome designed to obfuscate true thoughts and alleviate the pressure of interpersonal interaction. Anti-social by nature, her long lifespan has left Etreyja both loathing and longing when it comes to building and maintaining relationships. She is not 'above' expressing herself directly, but finds it to be an exhausting exercise; usually requiring extreme stress or appropriately favorable stimuli to strip her stony exterior.

Inquisitive by nature, but impatient and quietly demanding; she often grates on her own nerves. Success and failure are two words with great meaning to the Esoteric Scientist, words that she will often pontificate about at length. A philosopher by experience and occultist by profession, Etreyja focuses her research on exploring and understanding the confines of her world and what lies beyond.

Despite her veiled attitude, Etreyja is something of a 'softie' when it comes to human beings and their plights. While her heart is not the most accessible, it certainly contains the full gauntlet of human emotions; a subject that she still has trouble fully understanding and coping with. She is prone to biting her nails when irritated, and seems to adjust her glasses constantly.

Abilities, Talents, Traits, Powers:

  • ( 4 ) Prototype Weaponized Unit-- Being the primary Magitechnician of a ruined alternative to the Earth she currently inhabits, Etreyja took her duties very seriously. When given the order to create a bioweapon from the besieged populace from her King, the Esoteric Scientist to-be began researching what could be done to achieve such a lofty, dangerous notion.

    She found her answer in Harmonious Output, or 'Resonance'. A dangerous substance, responsible for the chaotic near-destruction of her world, it had saturated everything; warping the land and becoming more than the 'stream' it had been first observed as. Resonance, as it exists naturally, cannot be harnessed by a human being directly. As such, the Head Magitechnician turned her sights to the Beacons that had long since maintained a protective shield around the City of Light. Utilizing similar technology, she began first experimenting with the atrophied Resonance Pathways inside of her own body.

    As a result, Etreyja has become capable of utilizing a localized form of data-manipulation that most would consider akin to magic. As a prototype, she did not gain any of the benefits of later models; armor, heightened Resonance output and control, or the ability to upload or download data to the Throne Network. If anything, it has left her of a weaker physical constitution than the other W.U's, and indeed, some humans. Though she can no longer become ill from Resonance, Etreyja still suffers from fatigue and can become sick in a more mundane manner.
  • ( 4 ) Data-manipulation -- Inherent in all things, to some degree, is Resonance; in one form or another. Though people call it many different things, Etreyja chooses to continue using the vernacular spawned from her world. Utilizing it to her was, at one time, only viable through the use of Magitech; which was capable of producing magnificent effects, given the correct amount of Resonance and a catalyst of willpower to mold it. Having become a subject of her own experiments and outfitting herself with modified metaphysical pathways, Etreyja has gained the ability to manipulate data in a localized area (~30 yards) by drawing Resonance into herself (assuming the saturation is sufficiently adequate) and shaping it, through her will and equipment, into a physical or metaphysical effect.

    Being a Prototype Weaponized Unit, however, she does not have the power or capacity that later productions would have. As such, she relies on three primary 'categories' of data-manipulation; as well as several Magitech Devices.

    Distortion, which serves as her primary method of long-distance travel; requiring both a Beacon and a 'wormhole'. The Beacon serves as a 'return point', while she must shape the 'wormhole' through the gathering of Resonance. This takes some time to prepare, at least in preparing and calibrating the Beacon. 'Wormhole' creation takes a short time and has no practical application in a confrontation; except to flee.

    Ignition, is the only direct attack that Etreyja can form with her limited data-manipulation; being the creation of Resonance flames to scorch or engulf an opponent. Ignition is not limited in its form or implementation, but rather by Etreyja's capacity and willpower. As things stand, now, she is capable of producing and manipulating the flame to an intense degree; but with a considerable drain on her Resonance storage, leaving her exhausted and with a high risk for a Layered Reality to be created if she overexerts herself. With this in mind, Etreyja cautiously implements Ignition; opting for small constructs or concentrated bursts and will rarely push herself into situations that would require more.

    Synchronization serves to bind Etreyja's existence to the plane she currently inhabits, through the use of a proxy, or an 'anchor', as well as binding her to a distant, 'comatose' version of herself. This type of data-manipulation is always active, serving as a point of communication between herself and her 'anchor'; but little else.

  • ( 4 ) Rectification Device -- A small, black, oblong discus that Etryeja is never without. Connected to the Lucid Sequence Device and her alternative self, which she calls the 'Dreamer'. The Rectification Device is a supplement to all that Etreyja has become, and is a necessary tool for her research. Capable of scanning objects and beings to gather a brief summary of their data or biodata, the R.D sends this data through the Resonance-based Throne Network to be compiled and analyzed.

    The Rectification Device is an adaptive piece of Magitech, capable of interacting with and overriding most 'simple' machines and provides (after the sufficient data has been gathered) the means to materialize objects (living beings cannot be recreated) for Etreyja's use in the plane she currently inhabits. The size and complexity of the 'requested' item is subject to the L.S.D's scrutiny, and some things simply cannot be remade.

    When need be, the R.D can become an impromptu weapon. Lighting up with acidic green characters, its processes information at a rapid pace and provides an effect based on Etreyja's will; which is imposed on the 'Dreamer'. More often than not, if she must fight, she will utilize the R.D to fire adjustable beams of the same strange characters. These beams are concentrated threads of Resonance that have been woven together and made corporeal, and will rarely kill a target; often disabling them with concussive force, assuming that Etreyja has made a proper scan of them. If she has not, or can not, the 'Dreamer' will assume that the situation is dire and prepare a more powerful exertion of the R.D.
  • ( 4 ) Lucid Sequence Drive -- While not on Etreyja's person, nor ever technically occupying the same instance in reality, the L.S.D is a Magitech Device created in part by Etreyja. Utilizing a slightly modified clone of herself, without the Weaponized Unit modifications, the L.S.D is a machine that utilizes the subconscious mind of its CORE to achieve the desires of its user; within possible parameters.

    Sequestered in a pocket dimension, it is no longer physically accessible to Etreyja and will only respond to the dominance of her will over that of her clone through the Synchronization portion of her data-manipulation and use of the Rectification Device. Etreyja believes that the L.S.D may be nearing a breakdown, and desperately seeks a way to increase its power...or, at the least, to find a way into the dimension it is hidden in.

History: Head Magitechnician during the reign of King Aquinas, Etreyja made certain that her past was wiped clean from the records of her world. Much of what is known of her is more current information, spanning from 75 (After Catastrophe) to ~91 AC.

Etreyja Atarah Eskridge served her King from the time she was nearly sixteen, until her disappearance from her native reality after the Nine Heroes began their siege of the City of Light. A majority of her actions are technically classified, but were later discovered. It has become known that she was the progenitor of the Weaponized Unit Program and its secondary benefactor within the kingdom of Nalu. Having the King's ear at her disposal, and a near limitless amount of resources, she spent most of her time in the depths of 'Site Four' performing tasks assigned to her; and pursuing her own goals.

Once the location of 'Site Four' had been found, so, too were a majority of Etreyja's notes; though few would know this, given their vague nature and the pseudonym (0RACLE) she had chosen. Gleaned from these records were Etreyja's involvement in several projects of a dire and unethical nature; with the creation of the Weaponized Units (Units 000-051, labeled the 'First Series') serving as the most damning. Had she been present, the Nine Heroes and their new regime had intended to track down the mysterious '0RACLE' and force their penance.

Utilizing a gift from the deceased King, albeit one that had utilized an altered clone of herself as its core (the Lucid Sequence Drive), she had fled her home and set about the troublesome task of navigating between planes; using her own altered current body to slip through streams of Resonance that touched on other dimensions and parallel worlds.

There exists no record of this time, but Etreyja will from time to time hint at her experiences. She has kept little in the way of friends, save for the 'anchors' she has reached out to; a prerequisite for maintaining her existence in a particular reality. Etreyja's primary concern, over the last 278 years, has been understanding the nature of existence its self...and atoning for the countless lives she irrevocably damaged during her time as Head Magitechnician of Nalu.
@Kessir Tarkin, @OppositionJ, @Vashonn.

You guys are up next for collabs. Once @Empress and I have finished ours, you guys can decide among yourselves who goes next. Following the order of your @'s is what I had in mind, but that doesn't mean it totally has to go that way.

If any of you aren't planning on posting, or continuing your involvement in CiTS; now is the time to let me know. Before we get out of the collab-stage, I would like to make sure everyone is still interested.

I know there have been hang-ups and delays, but I wholeheartedly hope that you are all still down for the ride. If you choose to back out, please shoot me a PM or post here. I sincerely hope that it doesn't come to that, and that we all have the patience to continue on.

I promise things will be a bit speedier once the collab section is dealt with and the Pariah Dreams finally get to meet up.

Added my pic back.
@Buddha You too, man.
@Buddha No need to say that. I'm not a man
<Snipped quote by Saber>

eh why

it looked good wtf

I decided to put it back up. I dunno, I was being self conscious. My pic is back.

Edit: Also, thanks.
He'd woken from a dream, or it felt that way, his brain a cauldron filled with frenzied, fuming bubbles, churning all around til their climax preceded their rising action which preceded again their denouement and he couldn't make sense of any of the chronology at all. That fog had fallen over his brain, that hazy way of understanding individual sensations and motifs, but realizing that the whole picture, the canvas painted with all the combined colors, was a non-sequitur, pointless and disjointed. There too was the whiplash of thinking he was in one place, but waking in another, and not recognizing the place in which he woke—

He remembered nothing but the vague discomforts of drunkenness: the tiling of the kitchen floor and the streaks of plaster pasted between them, and how these uniform borders tilted and spun while he crawled about with his face down; how he didn't care for the taste of soured milk, but so lethargic was he that he drank it anyway simply because it didn't hurt much. All those stupid little quirks which a sober man can laugh about like they happened outside of his will, like the poison possessed him and made of him an involuntary fool.

As he wondered where outside of the city this field belonged—or was it a park after all? a botanical garden, perhaps?—Deai struggled to stand, and in doing so, saw that he still wore his wife-beater and boxers. Still, because somehow he was certain that he hadn't stripped down, or been stripped, throughout his rampage. One memory jolted another and then another all in a chain, and realizing that a noose had been involved at some point, he lashed his hand toward his neck, feeling for scars or rope-burns. There it was, a slender, snaking patch of flesh, tender to the touch and risen with swelling.

He screamed.

I'm dead, then.

Placidity is often interrupted by sudden discovery. Enthusiasm, while not a solely human trait, certainly suited them well; whether their boundless emotional energy be within the spectrum of positivity or otherwise. Rose watched the new arrival with some interest, noting, even from the distance between them, that marred ring around his neck. Putting on her best smile, she moved from the Hollow Egress' maw and down the stairs seeking to approach what she suspected was the Bonewoven.

"Ya look pretty rough. It's strange for a wound to carry over, when a Dream enters this place." She stopped a fair distance from the man, a smile blooming on her face. "You musta had it pretty rough, but don't worry, ya can relax here, for a minute. Take a breather, ya know?"

A minute? Literally, or metaphorically? His chest clenched, and Deai felt like a clamminess should have assailed his palms, like sweat should have puddled from his pores, but no such afflictions struck his physiology; the ethereality of this after-life, he had to suppose.

Rose brought a finger to her chin, letting her eyes drift over him a moment. "We need to talk anyway," she said, then mentioning her name aloud. "I'm gonna be ya guide through Navain. I'm here to help ya adjust."

But he didn't hear, or didn't comprehend, that strange, alien word. "Am I in hell or in heaven?" he asked.

"It's nothin' like that, Bonewoven," she said, rocking on her heels, "ya ain't dead, at least not while you're here!" Meeting his eyes, she continued. "Ya got torn from your native Corporeal Reality at the moment of ya death, due to the interference of a Scribe. After that, ya entered Navain; this field and everything beyond it!"

The "Bonewoven" blinked, recognizing, at least, that she used that phrase for him, for whatever purpose it may have served to this queer being.


"Ya gettin' colder!" Rose shrugged, uncertain as to how long this line of questioning would continue. "It's more like a world situated between ya home reality and a whole mess of empty existence. It's nothin' religious, so drop those ideas real quick. If anything, Navain is somethin' unique to its self. I can't tell ya much about the gritty bits, but I might be able to answer some of ya other questions!"

Shame had begun to return to the young man, who realized that the stained armpits, and certainly the noose burn, were not something he wanted any god or angel to see. He sat, crossed his arms and legs, and made himself small on the grass, which felt as real as the real stuff, plump and soft and fresh.

"This is a lot to take in. For, uh, a human like me," he mumbled. No mere man could walk around with her composure, knowing what she knew, or at least feigning at it with such confidence. "Okay; uh, why, why am I here, then? In 'Navain.'"

And what's a "Bonewoven," for that matter? And if this isn't an afterlife then why did he have to die to come here? But these could wait. His ultimate fate, and how much burning sulfur it would entail, claimed immediacy on the list.

After a moment, she lowered herself into the grass alongside the Bonewoven; a man she had not yet received a name for. Her fingers spread out across the grass and Rose reclined slightly, keeping her eyes on the man before her; who seemed to have deflated in a strange way. Her smile faltered at the pain she sensed, but she did not let it abscond entirely.

"I know, and I'm sorry about that! It's gonna take a long time to understand everything there is to know about Navain and the Corporeal Reality ya came from." Rose brought her right hand to her chin, letting her head rest fully against it. "Might be best to start from the top, then. Ya ended up here to become a hero, simple as that! Pariah Dreams—that's whatcha are, by the way—are brought from other worlds. Each of you possesses a power of immeasurable potential, and ya don't necessarily have to follow the rules of Navain."

She sighed, though it was not a noise of frustration. "Ya got brought here, to the Hollow Egress, to see if you're worthy of the Title that was given to ya!" Rose pointed lazily with her free hand, behind her, to the concrete monstrosity. "Not just you, though. There are others; a few of 'em are already waitin' inside!" Slowly, she stood. "Ya first task is to find ya Anchor, so you and the others can exist on the same plane of Navain."

An Anchor. With the help of some context clues, all this was becoming easier to understand, albeit slightly. "And my title is 'Bonewoven,'" Deai discerned.

"Yep! And I gotta admit, it, uh, sounds pretty sweet. Ya...ya familiar with ya body, right?" She offered another slight smile with the comment, raising a hand to her mouth. "Sorry, just jokin' around. What's ya real name, Bonewoven?"

"Yasushi Deai." He launched then into a little tirade, stammering out his explanation on who in his life addressed him by his family name, and who by his given; honorifics; levels of formality and closeness and so on. Catching himself, he cut this explanation short. She probably knew it anyway, what with the deific omniscience. "Anyway, what do you mean, 'sounds pretty sweet'? You're not the one who came up with it?"

Rose listened, but was already familiar with the social customs of Deai's culture. It was something that had been included in her P.R.P, allowing for more easy interaction with the myriad of Dreams that had been assigned to her. As such, she paid it little mind, preferring instead to continue with her less-than-formal interactions. "Nah, I don't get to choose the Titles...or anything, really, Deai. I'm just here to make sure nothin' goes wrong before ya enter the Egress. I'm a Guide, ya know!"


Giving himself only a moment to let it all soak through, he decided he didn't want to know any more. Perhaps he couldn't handle it; the sheer scale of everything, knowing what sort of infinity existed beyond the borders of that place he'd known as his world, his country, his city and street. Whatever it was, he mustered his courage and he stood. If something as weak and feeble as him could be chosen for these Tests, then he had to believe that he was ready to face them, despite the terror lumping in his gut. He nodded. She understood the nod, and started to lead him away.

"You said there are others like me? We're meeting up with them?"

"Ya are! I ain't goin' through that door...I...I, uh, can't...I'm kinda barred entry."

He looked ashamed again. "S'wrong?" Rose asked.

"Well, uh—" he looked away— "can you manage a change of clothes?"

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