yoshua171

REACH HEAVEN THROUGH VIOLENCE

Nah mate, complete coincidence

@Kassarock

Yeah I thought so :P

<Snipped quote by yoshua171>
I do believe the GM named that in the interest check as a specific comparison. XD

@Lewascan2

In my defense, I wasn't there xD

REACH HEAVEN THROUGH VIOLENCE

This gives me Kill 6 billion demons vibes, is that a coincidence?

Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk. VI

^{𝒞ath ℳelainea & Ｓomni}

Glimmering starlight once more fell over the continent, clear skies dominated by a half-moon and the gentle crackling of a dying fire. Still bundled up against the cold, a certain mortal finally came to wake. Eyes slowly fluttering open, Somni took a deep gasping breath as he shot up into a sitting position as if waking from some terrible dream. His sister sat across from him at the fire, staring in silence, her eyes slightly wide as her eyes caught his.

Where before his eyes had always been an almost washed out grey-blue, now they shone in the night, their hue pierced through by iridescent violet. He opened his mouth to speak but found he could not. Clearing his throat and coughing, his sister quickly recovered and fetched him a clay-made mug filled with freshly brewed tea. It had a faint spiciness to it, and it burned as he sucked it down, but he swallowed nonetheless. Sputtering a moment, Somni shook himself, a shiver running through him as he set the cup down beside him and met his sister's gaze.

"I...how did I get home?"

His sister's eyes widened, and so did his, for the voice that had come from his lips was resonant and tinged with an unearthly sound.

"I...Somni, your voice," she whispered, stunned. Bringing his hand up to his throat, Somni marveled at even the sound as he hummed quietly. He could feel it deep within him, and somehow he knew others would too as if it came from somewhere deeper. "What happened?" He wondered aloud, but his sister shook her head, not knowing either.

Slowly, Somni rose from his blankets, freeing himself from their embrace. The night air somehow felt more welcoming than before, warmer too. He turned towards the far-off coast, staring into the horizon. He didn't know why he looked in that direction, but instantly he understood that something was coming.

"Fetch mum and da," Somni said idly, but his sister heard a charm and a command. Rising, she quickly scampered off to rouse them from sleep. Turning back to the fire, Somni starred into its dancing light and all at once remembered. Curious, Somni took in a breath and spoke, his voice forming twisting words that he knew no other would understand.

Experimentally, he began to sing in this strange, yet all-too-familiar language, and in reply the fires danced in tune. He smiled.

---

Far to the north, a great Colossi stirred the seas with its every step, and deep within its heart burned an amaranth flame. The sleeping sparks of many mortal children flickered in time with its dancing rhythm as they came to grow in tune with the Goddess' power. At once, she attuned herself to the world and its many rhythms. The ebb and flow of the tides, the movement of the wind above, and the heavens far beyond. The gentle creeping of vines and roots, the subtle songs of creatures 'pon the land, and the idle existence of mortals near and far. Life and Death, happiness and pain. She knew them all, felt such things twisting in her breast, and deep at the core of her being she kindled a great and terrible fire.

As she came into harmony with the natural world and its inhabitants, she understood what the next step must be.

Opening eyes of violet hue, the goddess emerged from the belly of the stone and metal goliath, stepping from its back and up its neck. In the night its eyes blazed as purple as her own, each a beacon in the sky. Standing atop its metallic skull, Melainea raised a hand up to her lips and gently blew.

Coaxing a flame out from her form, the purple fire coalesced upon the surface of her palm, dancing in time with the world's beating core.

"Ah, thy souls of gods were borne into this world," she sang, a smile upon her face as the wind blew her hair back from her face.

"Unto them a power I will weave, a blessing for the world to keep. A curse it cannot flee."

The flames coiled inwards, then lept upwards from her hand in a bolt of astounding light. Cresting far above, the bolt of flame expanded, rippling outwards in great rings of purple illumination. They shook the air and covered the distance of Galbar from end to end. Life everywhere would feel them, feel the essence of their Lady embed itself within them.

None would know what it could do. For now.

Satisfied as the ember of her sky-bound flame continued its violet emanation, Melainea sat then upon the Colossi's head and stared out towards the Plains. This would be the first of her people's homes and she knew precisely who would lead them.

So it was that at the same time, the goddess and her unseen Champion smiled, and the latter stared far off into the sky where a great violet star lit within the sky, pulsing with deific light.

Summaries

Narrative Summary

At the edge of the Eidolon Plains, Somni wakes, discovering his transformation alongside his sister. He summons his family to him and witnesses the birth of their Lady’s Violet Star. Far away, Melainea births said star, seeding Galbar with her essence for the era that is soon to come. Slowly, atop the lumbering form of the Colossi, she makes her way to Somni, her intentions still unknown to the world at large.

Nonetheless, a great storm brews unseen. Who will notice first?

Resource Summary

Starting Vigor: 1/4
Starting Spirit (Somni): 2

Bless Galbar/Create a Monument (-1 Vigor): Cath Venassi (The Violet Star)

Crafting a crystalline formation of her essence high in the heavens, Cath Venassi is a glowing jewel in the skies of Galbar, always emanating a pulsating purple luminescence that soaks into all things, living, dead, or in-between. From this powerful source flows emotion distilled, yet largely unfelt. With its creation, so too is born the Cathyrian Tongue, a language of emotion which can only be truly wielded by those properly Attuned to Melainea’s grace. With her essence imbued into all creation, by the Violet Star, the Cathyrian Tongue can bid things to move and change subtly, using mana as their conduit, though capable of uniquely potent workings by the truly skilled.

Nonetheless, this power is–for now–one almost entirely untapped. As such, the monument serves little purpose except as a blazing beacon in the northern night sky.

+1 Spirit for starring in the post.
+1 Spirit for being one of two main characters in the post.

Somni’s Spirit Earnings: 2
Ending Vigor: 0/4

Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk. VI

Gifts & Introductions

^{𝒞ath ℳelainea & Homura
_{A Collab by @yoshua171 and @Chris488}}

From the Plains she’d set out on foot, heading to the north along the coast. Placid and calm as the sea to the east, Melainea adored the world around her. Such variety and so many things to hear and see and smell.

It was a paradise of experience.

Almost.

There was one fatal flaw. It did not brim overfull with life, with activity unending. Everywhere she looked she laid her violet gaze upon new sights, heard new sounds, and felt new things. Yet, there was little else to feel in kind. Few with which to share this place.

Yet she knew these lands were far from empty.

Still, such meager numbers were not enough.

They were but a pittance, no better than infertile silt between her fingers. A scowl crossed her visage then, her eyes narrowing, brow furrowing deeply in contempt. She stretched out her senses, but it was a new thing, and so as her awareness pressed out into the world, so too did her form destabilize and change.

So the feminine facsimile that had been her guise wavered like purple smoke troubled by an unseen hand. The haze wove and shifted, then expanded in a wave. Faint shimmering flames shattered the night in that moment, cutting through it in scintillating bolts like lightning in all directions.

A flash of heat, of feeling, of sight, and knowing. Then nothing. That violet light across all of Galbar’s skies was there no more, and once more upon the cliff face a goddess stood.

“Northward a titan lies.” From an expressionless face rose a wide and terrible grin. It was there but a moment before only thoughtfulness remained.

“I will meet her, favored of my father. My Sister.”

She tilted her head, tasting the wind, letting it fill her until she burst once more into an indigo flame and flew across the sky. Traveling outwards towards the sea, Melainea flew, her form a winged bolt of lightning coiling north and west across the waves.

---

Dawn’s gentle hues broke the horizon as the goddess arrived. Pink and red and orange colored the clouds in a beauteous symphony, its like interrupted only by the tremendous eruption of flame as the amaranthine bolt struck the earth just short of Keltra.

The fire coiled and swam upwards towards the heavens, hungrily eating air. Yet the crimson wall remained unaffected by its touch, as if uncaring of its existence. Curious, enraged, the flame drilled downwards at the great edifice’s upper walkways, intent upon destruction.

It mattered not. Unyielding, the Red remained for even as the deity crashed upon its surface it found no purchase, instead coiling inwards upon itself. Slowly the otherworldly flame pulled inwards, and its light dimmed such that the sun was once more the reigning champion in the sky.

What remained was an intrigued woman, horned and garbed in flowing cloth and essence, her head adorned with feathers and even vines. Yet, where her torso would have been, was instead a shining tear within the world. A burning lavender abyss to which the flames were slowly pulled.

“How stubborn,” she murmured quizzically as she admired the stone beneath her feet. Perhaps this was of her sister’s design….

Was it a coincidence that such thoughts brought the Goddess of Honor to her, or was her sister compelled to answer the arrival of Cath Melainea in Keltra? Homura walked along the barren path atop the red wall towards her visitor, wielding a golden spear that shone with celestial light in one hand. Her graceful stride brought her before the horned woman, and she greeted her with a respectful bow. “I am Homura. I have no intentions of harming you, unless you seek to harm me.”

Turning her gaze upon the very presence she had come to experience, Melainea tilted her head, a small smile playing across her lips as the remainder of her flames sealed themselves within the crucible of her chest, which faded in turn. What remained was her faintly luminescent figure, gently burning against the black.

“Harm?” She queried, her eyes moving upwards to the heavens, basking in the vastness of the sky. As she considered the concept, licks of flame pressed outwards from her feet like faint sparks of lightning. Though her power could not directly intrude on the psyche of other gods, Homura might still sense the potency of emotion held within each spark.

Rage, distilled, mirth driven to destructive heights, contentment so deep that sloth set in.

The sparks ceased and the violet-eyed goddess met her sister’s gaze. “I suppose I have no such intention.” Unsaid were the words ‘for now’.

Stepping towards her sister, the Monarch’s Crucible glided across the surface of the wall. “I am Cath Melainea,” she said, her words too quick, as if she were compelled to reciprocate the greeting. She paused in her approach, wondering at the nature of her sister.

“I am our Father’s Crucible. Emotion distilled and pure and potent. I am the tempering flame of experience. What might thy Aspect be, sister?” Though her words could not tempt, nor sway Homura, it seemed that they still had an insidious affect. Twas as if they slithered into the mind, touching upon emotions, seeking to kindle them, to coax them into flames, or perhaps to snuff them out…leaving only ash.

“My Aspect is Honor, and I act as our Lord’s Highest Judge and His Emissary. Welcome to Keltra, sister.” Homura replied, and another fire burned fiercely within her, a blinding blaze which seared those that trespassed inside her mind. Seven burning serpents hissed and coiled, interweaving and dancing in the divine fire that enveloped them. The song they sang with their graceful bodies and forked tongues drowned the attempts to manipulate the inner fire, the mind, the emotions of the red goddess.

“I apologize, but I have little time before I must depart. I would ask that you cease attacking the wall.” Homura continued, her monotone voice and impassive expression proved only a poor attempt to hide the fire of her feelings behind the mask, as the truth of emotions could not be concealed from Cath Melainea.

“The wall is of little interest,” the Crucible replied, taking another step closer, not noticing in the least as Homura rebuffed her psychic intrusion. “You however intrigue me…and there is something else.”

She paused, breathing in as she came within mere feet of her sister. The scent of clay and flesh, of soul and mind. Slumbering emotion. Dormant and unkindled, untouched yet by the world.

Melainea’s gaze wandered inwards, falling upon the colossal shapes of three titans. In their forms were nested many sparks. Violet eyes flashed and for an instant her form flickered between mortal and divine.

“Life.”

She turned away, looking to the sparks, her sister left behind, but not forgotten.

“Where is it that you’ll go?” she asked of Honor. “What transpires within these lands…that might be more precious than these children?” Only then did she turn her gaze once more upon Homura. Curiosity, awe, and love were in that look. Yet the last was joined by a great ferocious anger, like a mother bear, protective of its cubs.

“My presence has been requested by both Iqelis, God of Doom, and Ea Nebel, Goddess of the Grave, to attend the trials of the latter imposed upon her by our Lord. It is duty that calls me away, however, the ninety thousand sleeping vessels within those three machines are unclaimed. They are my gift to the Divine, and so they are my gift to you, sister. You may take the colossi, and those that slumber within, if you desire.” Homura said, gesturing to the titanic trio standing in the red sea, before she began walking once more, traveling along the length of the wall’s walkway.

“Humanity is our instrument, our will made manifest, shaped by our desires and guidance. Your presence can awaken them, and define them, their design intended to adapt to the purpose we give them. Do you accept my gift, sister?” The red goddess asked.

With quiet intensity, she held Homura’s gaze, considering her words. Dawn stretched further into the sky as she pondered Honor’s offer, and what had come before it. After a time, Melainea glanced to the glowing spear and smiled before kneeling to touch the surface of the wall beneath them. Gently, she drew a finger across the stone. A faint red dust came off and her eyes shimmered with pleasure. Rising once more to her feet, Melainea met her sister’s eyes.

Dimly at first, the dust gained a crimson glow, before rapidly growing so bright as to be blinding. Violet flames snapped upwards from her fingertips, shrouding the residue, imbuing it. She drew a ring within the air, and the dust lingered therein. Slowly, it coalesced into a burning crimson circlet. It had a dull sheen to it, as if rainbows had been writ across its surface.

Hovering a moment, it soon fell into Melainea’s palm. “I accept,” she purred as she stretched her hand towards her sister, offering a gift. “In exchange, accept this token for a time. I wish to know of this trial, but I cannot go myself. The circlet will have to do instead.”

Should one look upon the dimly burning ring, they note that it was gossamer thin, as if crafted from as little material as possible. Yet, it seemed unyielding in a way, as if would simply bend rather than break. Further, it appeared to possess endless depth and upon further observation it was more a tear in the world than any solid thing. Nonetheless, it could easily be handled.

“So be it.” Homura held out her open hand to receive the circlet, and accepted the artifact.

Almost thoughtlessly, the violet-eyed goddess dropped the circlet into Homura’s hand, before turning to walk past the boundary of the wall and to one of the three great Collossi. However, the burning ring was another story entirely, for as it touched Homura’s divine flesh it lit up like the sun. For a brief instant, a frenzy of unstoppable emotions of every variety and hue would rush into her. Then, all at once, the deluge would cease and the ring would go dark, instead slowly shifting colors to match Homura’s countenance.

The red goddess examined what she held for another moment, before she placed the circlet atop her head, hiding it beneath her scarlet hair. Then Homura set out on her journey westward with a mighty leap from the wall.

Paying little attention to the departure of Honor, Melainea stepped off the edge of the wall’s path and into the air. Tongues of flame licked against her feet, buoying her on steps of flame as she approached the Collosi. There was awe and adoration in her violet eyes as she gazed upon the magnificent creations, and the sparks they protected. Eventually she stepped onto one of the titans. Closing her eyes she took in a long breath, taking in the sheer potential of what lay before her. Then, smiling, she sent her will throughout the metal and stone of the great Collossus. The fires of her power bound themselves into its form.

However, unbeknownst to her, the smallest tendrils of divine flame pricked the mutable slumbering minds of the many mortals therein. In time, they would wake, for now though…Melainea had a mind to truly populate the world.

Soon there would be emotions aplenty.

Driven forth by the great ardour of her power, the Collossus took a step into the bay, its great limb creating tidal waves as it moved. Its eyes had become embers of purple, veins of the same hue crisscrossing its form.

Pleased, Melainea’s mortal guise phased out of being, replaced only with an ethereal inferno, which soon disappeared into the Collossus’s core. It was time to inspect the bounty of her meeting.

Summaries

Narrative Summary

Melainea casts her senses across Galbar, seeking siblings. She finds the Spark of Honor, one favored by her Father, and so seeks to meet her.

Succeeding, the two converse briefly and introductions are exchanged, as well as gifts. Homura departs with an artifact of Melainea’s making, while the violet-eyed goddess leaves with a Collossus in tow, the nature of her plans for its occupants not yet known.

Resource Summary

Starting Vigor: 2/4

Create an Artifact (-1 Vigor): Melainea’s Font.

Taking the form of a gossamer thin circlet, writ of an unknown crimson substance, and possessed of a prismatic sheen. It may be worn as a crown, a ring, a necklace, belt, or bracelet so long as its shape remains that of a ring. Its form appears less a solid and more a burning tear in the world, otherworldly as its surface shifts and writhes with unknown power.

Its most important attributes are thus, the Font functions as a receptacle of, and for, emotion/experience. As such, Melainea’s Font draws upon the experiences and emotions of all entities within a large radius around it, regardless of their nature. This effect does not pull upon the senses or energies of any being, as the Font simply detects emotions and experiences before duplicating them within the ring.

Through this process, the artifact acts as a repository for experiences that occur within its radius. Its secondary property allows these emotions and experiences to be drawn upon by the wearer. Notably, Melainea’s Font is not designed with mortal’s in mind, and thus if divine emotion–or simply too much emotion–is held within when it is worn by such, individuals may be driven mad by the resulting overflow of stimuli. In its current state, Melainea’s Font will not automatically empty its contents into the psyche of the wearer once attuned–via touch–and it may only impart experiences once before it must be filled with new ones.

Ending Vigor: 1/4

Scorched Earth

I read through the lore and I've been considering it :)

Scorched Earth

Is this still going?

Yoshua's Character Storage Mark VII

Ⱦatasuko, Ⱦeishi. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

<sup>"

"
Theme I ♦ Theme II</sup>

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Hider

【Personal Info】

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【Alias:
【Age: 350.
【Age Appearance: 35.
【Gender: Male.
【Race: Human-->Plus-->Shinigami.
【Rank: Captain.

【Additional Appearance Info:

【Biography:

【Capabilities】

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【Zanpakuto】

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Sealed State

_

_{~“I am its host, not its master, it says. Nonetheless, its power moves at my behest.”~}

Inner World & Spirit:

Teishi’s inner world is an endless abstract dimension of black and white, devoid of almost any color. Often is it that only he and Hakumei are the sole entities to populate the slowly shifting murk with life or hue. Though the realm can at times take on more distinct shapes, it is always with an unreal bent, every surface bearing the paint-like splotches of ink and untouched parchment. Illuminating it all is a sourceless silver glare, ever-present, and offensive.

The Spirit of Teishi’s blade has always been a mysterious entity, its likeness inhuman–yet still familiar, like some primordial force, a natural aspect of the world given shape and voice. Shifting its shape to suit its needs, Saigo Hakumei is most often a masculine figure with pitch-black hair and flesh, sharp claw-like nails, and three eyes like glimmering starlight. Its movements are starlit silence, its voice carrying the weight of an echoing boom, with the subtlety and control of a whisper. The entity is, beyond its relationship to Teishi, seemingly unrelated to the shinigami or his temperament–a thing that will one day be known as something truly unheard of. However, it does bear some similarities to its would-be master. It is filled with both quiet rage, and a stolid unwavering purpose. Further, it seems to desire always more–be it of the world or the man it calls its host.

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Shikai

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_{~"Sunder, Saigo Hakumei(最後薄明 ‘Final Twilight/Twilight’s End’)"~}

Ability: The manifestation of Teishi’s shikai could be considered deceptively simple in both appearance and use. In essence, his chipped and battered sword serves as a gateway between this world and the unreachable emptiness that dwells beyond all things. Preceding all things, the properties of this forgotten plane are those of creation and destruction both, for it is from this womb of emptiness that all existence sprung. The precise mechanism through which Saigo Hakumei channels this otherworldly power is through a faintly glowing reiryoku that fills in the cracks of its jagged edge. Through the movement of the blade, and the exertion of his will, Teishi is capable of bringing the very essence of void from the emptiness beyond. The properties of this exotic phenomena are those of pure destruction, taking on the form of a jet black ink-like fluid that erases all it touches, wiping such from existence. In this unrefined state, this primordial quintessence possesses no other unique traits, and given the lacking medium of his incomplete zanpakuto, Teishi holds little to no sway over the precise movements and behaviors of the substance. However, the essence will largely obey some semblance of the world’s physical and spiritual laws, allowing Teishi to influence its movement and manifestation through the skillful utilization of his swordsmanship. Lastly, Teishi is capable of pouring his reiryoku into his blade, allowing him to generate more of the hazy energy that serves as a gateway for Saigo Hakumei's power.

Techniques

Hider

Hekikai Kenmaku(劈開剣幕 ‘Cleaving Sword-Curtain’):

Kamisori Kadō(剃刀渦動 ‘Razor Vortex’):

:

Bankai

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_{~"Bankai...Saigo Hakumei, Shinkū Hassan(最後薄明, 真空発散 ‘Twilight's End, Empty Emanation’)"~}

Ability:

Techniques

Hider

( ‘’):

( ‘’):

( ‘’):

( ‘’):

Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk. VI

𝒞ath ℳelainea

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--invoke 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 Aspect 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.

“Rings to bind together when worn in pairs; rings to bend and break when fractured by life's affairs.” 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 was 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.

“Sorrow's Ore, thy name shall be,” 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. “Ah, but what might your touch incite,” 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.

---

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.

“Cease thy struggle child,” 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.

“Wh--,” he began.

“Shhh…” 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.

“Such a strange thing, thy body,” 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.

“Wait,” 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.

“Bold,” 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 small. Why was that?

“Who are you?” 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.

“Cath Melainea,” she said, as if in reply. He blinked and he watched as she rolled her eyes.

"Tis my name."

"Ah. Somni's mine."

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

"I know," 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.

"Ah, what mortal indeed," 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.

"What is this?!" 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.

"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." She gestured with a hand composed of flame, indicating her form, "...and this a form truer to my nature."

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. "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?" 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.

"Admirable," 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.

---

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.

"So fragile, these mortals are," she mused, brushing hair from the human's cheek. "Tis but a strand of feelings," 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.

---

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.

"Thank you," 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.

"Think ye not of this. Remember only that he is yours," 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,

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

Her daughter replied, her tone distant and small.

"She had glowing violet eyes…."

Both her parents slowly turned upon her, staring.

"No, 'twas simply the moonlight."

"Nay, it was the stars."

Both parents denied the truth and so the daughter relented. Still, she knew in her heart of hearts that had not been just 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.

Summaries

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.

Resource Summary

Starting Vigor: 4/4

Create a Champion (-1 Vigor): Somni.

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.

Bless a Mortal (-1 Vigor): Somni’s Mother - Athia.

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.

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

Somni’s Spirit Earnings: 2
Ending Vigor: 2/4

Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk. VI

Edited the sheet above as well as added it to the Character tab

Divinus: The Deity Roleplay Mk. VI

𝒞ath ℳelainea. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .ᴛ ʜ ᴇ ᴄ ʀ ᴜ ᴄ ι ʙ ʟ ᴇ

^{"Hide not thy nature, burn brightly your truth, until nothing else remains."
-- Cath Melainea, The Exalted Goddess.}

^{Theme I ♦ Theme II ♦ Theme III}

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Hider

^{C A T H M E L A I N E A
Kaath Mel-eye-neya}

Aspect
^{♦Temper / Temper♦}

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Her shard held long within the Monarch's essence, when he bore her unto the world so was forged a twofold power. The Aspect of Temper, a tempest of emotion, endless and unyielding, gentle yet all at once unwelcome. This facet of her power held dominion over the Emotions of others, living or not. Through its influence, such things could be guided, dulled, or–indeed–inflamed. Frustration becomes fury; laziness, sloth; sadness, despair. Upon mortals, this facet of her shard can manipulate the tides of their emotion, driving them to any number of things as if controlled by their passions--or the lack thereof. Yet, when used upon that which does not think or breathe, such as trees or stone, this power may coax them into motion or still them once again. Indeed, as despair and heartbreak can break a man, so too might they sunder stone. Though such physical manifestations can be potent and varied in effect, this facet of her power is mercurial in its ways, as certain to remain as the weather is to stay the same.

Such is not, however, the only facet of her power, for within her shard was born a second fundamental force: Tempering. Steeped so long inside the Monarch's molten core, Melainea's shard took on some traits that once were her Father's own. Like the Monarch, she holds within her a great desire to create, however, unlike him she instead holds only the power to alter and rejuvenate. By drawing from her central strength, the Goddess may infuse, or bathe, things in her violet light. In so doing they may be reforged by the tempest she holds inside. So it is that with the influence of emotion, she might cause metamorphosis in others, be they of flesh and blood, or sea and stone.

In this way, a joyful man, can become a beacon of euphoria, enrapturing all around him. Still, one ought be wary, for so too can her power unleash calamity upon both the heavens and the earth.

Notably, Melainea’s Aspect deals primarily with the expression, infusion, and manipulation of emotion in its many forms. As such, discounts cannot be gained to create things that are not of emotion or at least sufficiently symbolically related.

“Her power, its facets many, has revealed itself many times and in innumerable forms, each almost too glorious to behold! Look upon them now, gaze at these creations, each a fragment of her endless power! Ah, but listen true, do not touch them, for to do so is to invite their ire, and such is a thing that one must be careful not to kindle.” – Thelys Maer’ator, High Cathyrian Priest and Steward of the Guardian Order.

Upon the pedestal, sheathed in a dull morose light which emanates as if from nowhere, is what may have once been the bone of some fell beast’s limb. It is smooth and without blemish, its color pale and lifeless, the weapon bears only one distinctive marking. ‘Pon its hilt are red and maroon engravings, each carved with impossible precision, they depict beating hearts, each skewered by a thorn and bleeding.

The Placard beneath it reads, “Forged in Our Lady’s essence pure, this woeful blade is a terrible thing indeed. Suffused with a despairing heartbreak more true than any other, it does not kill, but its every strike drives thy foe further into the clutches of sorrow. Though it is composed of bone, its name arose from the fact that with enough contact with the blade–be ye its wielder or its victim–the heartbreak seeps into you, soaking even your bones. Those touched by it are surely cursed by Melainea herself, for as life leaves them, so too does color and substance as they dissolve into naught but grotesque mush."

“Sorrow’s Bone”

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Surrounded by four rings of consecrated chain, all shining a different hue and emitting each their own subtle hum, are two intertwined spirals of stone. They are anchored to the floor such that it would be impossible to move them. One appears as if carved of marble, the other of obsidian. They shine from within, the light they emit that of their polar opposite in color. Even standing many paces away, out of reach even of the consecrated chains, one is struck by a strange twisting pair of emotions. However, so separated from the monolith–for indeed it stretches almost to the high ceiling of the great cathedral–it is impossible to tell precisely what these feelings might be, only that they are in fierce opposition of one another.

The Placard–placed several feet from the outermost ring of silver chain–reads as such. “A testament to the dual nature of emotion, and indeed, our most cherished and revered goddess, these spiral pillars are a gift. Still, we warn against approaching such a powerful edifice, for the unprepared are unlikely able to resist their power. Ah, and do not be fooled by their fanciful name, they earned it in honor of the king who fell to its power. As, when exposed directly to its resonance–yes that faint pull you now feel–one is split in twain. The Shadow is unleashed from within, given form and power both. This dreadful doppelganger and its glowing counterpart of Light are destined only to doom the other. It was through the Chime’s influence that Bountiful Lheiran–and his empire–were laid to waste, divided by him and his Shadow, and driven to war.

For this reason, the Chime carries with it another name, a far simpler thing.

Yes, some folk only call it ‘Discord.’”

Lheiran’s Spiral Chime

The Cathyrian Church

Persona
^{♦Curious ♦ Wise Naive ♦ Callous ♦}

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While a wide spectrum of terrifyingly beautiful and endless emotions writhe storm-like beneath her divine flesh, Melainea is--above all else--endlessly curious. This may take many forms of course, sometimes manifesting in an inquisitive nature, whereas in other moments she might briefly take on an almost child-like wonder. However, while this emotion drives much of her behavior, she too is the callous observer, the seemingly uncaring scientist tinkering with the lives and environs of others. However, this is indeed only that, a seeming, as the reality of things is that Melainea simply does not--perhaps cannot--see her treatment of Galbar and its inhabitants as anything but moral. To her, whether a man becomes a plague of woe or a beacon of hope matters little so long as he becomes something that before he was not.

^{Perhaps though, it is better to understand Melainea as mortals would. Thus, in the interest of greater learning, we the Cathyrian Church present the following.}

"Fickle is too little a word to encompass she Our Lady Melainea. No, for she is beyond such mortal things, she is above them, greater than. Indeed, any mortal experience is far too constrained by our very nature to compare. Yet, in my studies and my musings, through my many interviews with survivors and witnesses alike, I have discovered a commonality. We share some aspect of our psyche with her--no! She shares it with us, I think. Yes.

For though she is above curiosity, she is curious. Inquisitive as she gazes upon our world, and us, its inhabitants. There is always a glimmer in her gaze, I am told, and I believe that it simply must be this part of her nature. I daresay that curiosity is indeed something foundational for her, it must be for her to interact with, and observe us as much as she does. After all, is she not Emotion and Experience itself? Is it not the greatest desire of all feelings to be seen and acknowledged? I think it simply must be so. She is the Psyche of this world, all its feelings and impressions, observing its reflection in us and we our own in her." -- Aldyran Caste, A Cathyri Scholar.

An Excerpt from Chapter Two of "On the Curious Nature of Melainea"

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"As I write this I am in hiding. I can scarcely tell you where, my dear reader, but I can say this...no place is truly safe from the clutches of the Cathyrian Church. As the Church has burned all of my published work, I sit here scrawling down my thoughts so that perhaps one day they might be seen by someone of like mind.

"Though I feel I may not have the time to explain the precise nature of my predicament, know this: I have been excommunicated from the Church, and exiled by the state for my beliefs. They are as such. Our Lady--to whom I still owe not only my faith but now my life--is as much a fool as any man can be. She is naive and ignorant to the precise experience of us mortals, whether clad in scales or fur or flesh. The Church will not hear of such things, they think me a blasphemer and a charlatan who calls Our Lady Melainea a simpleton. Tis not so, by this I swear! It is simply that if she is to be the truest Crucible of all emotion, as we believe her to be--nay--as she has told us she is, then she must be as foolish as she is wise. Perhaps, I say, her Callousness arises from such a place. Perhaps it is not that she is sometimes a cruel mistress, burdening men and mer with misery through a desire to see us suffer. I refuse to believe this! To say that she is cruel is to imply intent to harm! The clergy think to control the public perception of their god and so they cannot have a detractor such as I--a man who once had high standing, whose word was well respected, and widely known--contradict them.

"So it is, here, and in other places, I write these words.

"Cath Melainea is not cruel, nor is she kind. She is the Crucible. She is the lady of misery and bliss both. To us, her children, she gives of herself so that we might experience the world, and perhaps so she might experience us in return!

"And if it is a clergyman, indeed, an inquisitor even, who reads this. Curse you. Your Church cannot control, nor contain the truth!

"Know that even should you catch me, that my word will live on, for I cannot, will not, be silenced!" -- Ela'Kaern Unas Haran; Genius, Scholar, Madman.

An excerpt from the widely distributed "Writings of a Blasphemous Madman"

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"We mortals will never know the inscrutable aims of the gods, yet I cannot help but wonder at the angle of the deity the Cathyri call 'Cath Melainea'. The religious literature--and much of what the Cathyri claim to be factual (though I severely doubt it)--consitently characterizes her as a loving goddess. They speak of her with reverence and respect, rather than fear and trepidation. Yet, this seems to me in direct contrast to the precise consequences of their goddess' influence.

"For, was it not the 'loving' gaze of Melainea that drove Eddrick Cathiel to madness, and his country to ruin? Did the goddess, that flaming Crucible of violet flame not appear before Mystaiphies and render her--once the finest singer in the land, adored by all--a wretched, ruinous siren, driving all who heard her into a state of complete insensibility, as if they had at once become merely husks of their former selves? I believe that it was.

"I simply do not see the love in these actions, nor the benevolence or kindness. To me, these seem the acts of a callous, uncaring goddess. A malign entity that desires only that we mortals suffer, be it in unending, uncontrollable bliss, or ruinous sorrow. So, with each passage I read from these 'respectable' scholars I wonder: If she is not a loving goddess and her aim is thus not to nurture us, her children, then what other goal might her actions suggest?

"Though I am sure few will heed what I say, I nonetheless must confess my belief and record it upon the page. She is not our mother, after all, she did not create us. What proof have we of such in the first place? None. Yet, I know what the clergy, these so-called scholars would say and to them I say this. Yes, I understand, one does not need to be a mother to care, or to nurture. One need not even understand someone to care for them, or to treat them with kindness. However, to truly care for another, to nurture them, you must desire for them the best. This desire can be skewed, slightly twisted even, but above all else it cannot be wholly selfish. It is a thing of compassion, of empathy.

"Cath Melainea, the Violet Bitch, she has never shown us anything resembling such compassion. Passion, certainly! Kindness? Perhaps. Yet, when the clergy come to you, preaching of their goddess, remember this.

"Every recorded act, even as biased as the texts are in her favor--written to serve the interests of the Church--paints her as a being of selfish want. Why does she change us? Why does she change our world? Why does she interact with us, and so often at that? To sate her own curiosity. To experience a fragment of what we 'lesser' creations might feel. She changes us, because she must, it is in her nature as it is in the scorpion's to sting and she is little more than that.

"A scorpion, though with divine ichor running through her veins." -- Taltherian Cray, Lord of Herice, a cynic, a scholar, a tyrant.

From an outsider's text, "Melainea's Temper"

From the Cathyrian Text, "The Crucible's Nature"

Visage
^{♦True Form♦}

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"The Truest Guise of Cath Melainea is best understood through an experiential lens as to attempt to describe it in simple terms is a misleading and troublesome thing. Still, despite this, I will try."

Cathyri Scholar

She is a flash of violent violet light, shattering perception, yet enrapturing the viewer. This light, it emanates from a churning core of writhing indigo flame in an almost teardrop shape. Its surface seems--somehow, despite lacking true solidity--reflective, and upon perceiving it, the psyche of the beholder is flooded with endless emotion, filling them overfull with the experiences of their lifetime. Beneath her light, annoyance becomes fury, contentment–euphoria–and disappointment: anguish. Yet, she is still more than this Crucible, for superimposed upon this is what might first appear a woman's silhouette, but is in truth an amaranthine tear in the fabric of the world. Within this god-shaped hole are endless fractals of experience, all intertwined like multidimensional crystals. To gaze too long into her visage is to invite it into thyself, and in so doing, render oneself utterly hers. Those few who survive the ordeal of her manifestation find themselves indelibly changed by the experience, and whether for good or for ill they will never know the difference as those who gaze into the Crucible of Emotion, become naught but elementals forged in Melainea's essence.
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^{Poetic reimaginings created from various accounts of those who survived the manifestation of our Lady Melainea.}

"She was a turning mirror, reflecting minds, each consciousness a burning flame, drowning all else, mixing...diffusing. A maiden, a mother, a crone ensconced in effervescent violet flames. A metallic fractal, containing coruscating light, crystalline and pure, yet malignant and destructive." - Thellasi Poet Carian Sarr.
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"Two orbs, a pair of shining eyes blossoming before my own, her gaze, it ensorcelled me, wrapped me in its embrace. As we stared, I upon her, and she into my secret self, my hidden soul, a felt a stirring within my brow and beneath my breast. Like a burning flame of terrible bliss, agonizing in its intensity, I was overcome with emotion until at last, I became it!" - A Violet-eyed survivor.
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"Soothing warmth, purest duress, I was enlightened. Without her there is only the burning cold of this emotionless world. Men hide their feelings behind a terrible mask we call a face. I call them blasphemy! Ye apostate who would deny expression, deny truth, deny her sorrow and her love! Shame! Shame!" - A scholar of the sciences, driven to feverish madness.

Excerpts from "Glimpses of the Goddess"

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^♦Facade♦

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Though the Goddess may at some times present herself to mortals in her truest shape, more often is it that such a thing is only ever glimpsed in fragments. These fragments are known as Melainea's Facade and simply put, they are other expressions of her Aspect's physical manifestation.

Though she most often appears as a violet-eyed woman with an elaborate set of feathers in her hair, and two curving horns--as depicted far above--below are other depictions of witnessed manifestations.

Artistic Renditions of Our Lady Melainea