altha6a

[altha6a]

PYLADES: I'LL TAKE CARE OF YOU. ORESTES: IT'S ROTTEN WORK. PYLADES: NOT TO ME. NOT IF IT'S YOU.

sixth necromancer & sixth cavalier: @sualumina

[altha6a]

location: the (un)locked door the rules of stigmata

“Not to be the one who states the obvious, but there is fifteen bones. Fifteen minus six does not make ten.” If there is one thing that Althaea can show an ounce of gratitude for is that they are accompanied by the Ninth House— the house of bones, or something equally as macabre. Their familiarity of bones extends to repairing breaks, to sewing them back together. Not some riddle around them. And truthfully, Althaea has never been a fan of puzzles. Medicine is straight forward, linear. An exact and precise science that she can achieve with ease. This is designed to trick them. One of her hands extend, grazing the medial condyle of one of the larger femurs. Perhaps a thanergy signature remained? The owner of the bone leaving them a message through time?

The bone is devoid of anything. Methodically so. Removed of any remnant of an owner, any semblance of a history. Someone took their time removing any trace of an identity from these femurs. “Nonagesimus—” Their voice was gentle, head tilting toward the woman. Their tone is awkward, a little uncertain, “Does anything about this... perhaps speak to you in some way? Some... pattern in the bones or something? I don't know. Do the bones speak to you?”

The room itself is miserable and does nothing to encourage their understanding of the situation. Everything is just as dead as the bones. Dark eyes shift across, abandoning the scale and bones, seeking out their cavalier, “Can I steal that scroll from you?”

[altha6a]

“I could loan you my title? Master Warden Virgil Levante— Heir of the Sixth House, et cetera, et cetera.” Her face rests in her hands, cupping it in a slightly slumped position, peering toward Virgil. Inherently, he wasn't wrong. They should rest. The trip from the Sixth to the First hadn't been long— but they had to be practically pulled out of paperwork by their cavalier, dragged onto the ship. If she thinks about it for too long, Althaea isn't quite sure when they last got a uninterrupted eight hour sleep. (And then they definitely don't fall asleep for a few moments, a small hum as her eyes reopen after a long blink.)

“While an incredibly fair point— I figure if we are going to attempt to become Lyctor's, there is little point in dancing around being shy,” There is no breaking this chain. It becomes death do us part. There had been some sermon, extensive and reactionary, lecturing on the necromancer-cavalier bond as proof of God, something sacred. More than marriage, more than duty. Bemoaning something about the Fifth House. (They'd stopped reading around the seventh page.) “I'm not going to make you stand outside like... some kind of glorified gargoyle. They already gave you an atrocious bed!” With that they stand up in a movement and flurry, coat swishing as they take a few steps across the room, grasping one of the ugly navy pillows from the couch and throwing it onto the undignified bed. “— Explore, yes. I saw birds when we arrived. One was a beautiful blue, we should absolutely go and check them out.”

               𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐋   𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐄𝐒   𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆   𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘   𝐁𝐘   𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑.   His   eyes   wander   far   enough   to   spot   his   cot   and   dresser,   the   former   which   is   by   all   means   a   plush   upgrade   to   the   bare   cot   he’s   slept   in   in   the   barracks   for   a   decade.   He   smiles   a   bit   at   Dr.   Sextus’   remarks   and   knows   it’s   by   intention   that   she   does   not   recall   his   title,   for   at   all   other   times   her   memory   is   sharp   and   wondrous—   that   is,   it   seems,   when   the   subject   is   of   interest   to   her.   Yet   Virgil   detects   no   ill   will   to   it.   There’s   plain   and   harmless   evidence   in   their   tone   that   they   don’t   care   for   being   called   by a new title   and   applies   the   same   sentiment   to   him.   He   doesn’t   mind.   He   doesn’t   care. 

       ❛❛ Then   there’s   no   point   in   you   using   it. ❜❜   Virgil   cuts   in   with   amusement.   ❛❛ Besides,   it   doesn’t   have   the   word   master   in   it,   so— ❜❜   He   shrugs.   ❛❛ It   wouldn’t   sound   nearly   as   remarkable. ❜❜

       There’s   a   moment   when   they   fall   downcast,   the   slight   quiver   of   their   lips   almost   missed   if   he   hadn’t   been   observing   them,   before   rising   back   to   their   humor   like   it’d   been   a   trick   of   the   light.   Virgil   earnestly   follows;   he   suspects   to   make   a   fool   of   himself   on   more   occasions   as   he   blindly   searches   for   the   right   way   to   behave.

       ❛❛ They   are. ❜❜   He   agrees   quickly,   racing   to   resolve   the   matter   that   affected   her.   ❛❛ I   only   say   it   because   you   might   not   be   comfortable   with   me   yet   and   you   should   exercise   the   freedom   to   send   me   away. ❜❜   Virgil   pauses,   watching   her   expression   closely.   Perhaps   too   many   years   in   the   Cohort   receiving   firm   and   precise   orders,   strict   even   in   matters   of   conduct,   have   made   him   socially   obtuse;   he   can’t   tell   how   his   words   will   be   interpreted.   ❛❛ But   if   that’s   not   the   case,   I’ll   stay. And please don't misunderstand, I would've stood outside until you were ready to explore. ❜❜

His   feet   finally   take   him   from   the   door   to   the   southwestern   corner   of   the   room,   where   he   begins   his   inspection,   feeling   the   floorboards   out   beneath   each   slow   and   purposeful   step   as   he   moves   along   the   parameter   of   the   chamber,  and  looking   for   any   crevices   in   the   walls   as   he  progresses. 

[altha6a]

It takes a moment. Althaea is familiar with the spitting image of her— and attempting to find the line where Romilly begins and Remus ends is difficult. The sharp lines of her haircut, the slope of her nose... it feels like a ghost. “Romily—” Althaea's voice is soft, gentle. The hushed tone one uses at a funeral. “I wasn't aware you'd... become a cavalier.” The words fit weird in their mouth. But maybe that's because the whole situation feels weird. They are many things but a social creature is not one of them. Words have never fit right, never sat correctly on their tongue. War, they can do war. She understands the art of losing and grief in the field. But when the funeral ends and the body is gone, when the only thing that remains is a human with an incomprehensible amount of anguish and heartbreak— that is where Althaea fails.

“The Lyctor's are the Hands of the Emperor, the greatest thing a necromancer could ever aspire to be— and I'm going to cut myself off before I ramble too much...” Althaea's lips pause, a soft furrow as they cut themselves off. Romilly doesn't need more expectation, another weight on her shoulders. Fitting into the shoes of Remus must already be challenge enough, especially when his body is barely cold, not even decayed to bones yet. “It was so long ago... perhaps there was much less mystery back then. But I suppose in itself, that is another mystery. Did you ever met any of the Lyctor's— when you were deployed? I heard that someone once saw Augustine the First a few years back but that might have just been bored soldiers spreading rumours.”

romilly had thought that, if she stepped outside, she might have a moment alone. of course, she rarely was alone these days. even when she had no living company, she could feel her brother's ghastly presence, could sense him across the room, waiting for her to raise her gaze to him.

the ceremony that had taken place earlier certainly didn't help calm her nerves. as she had risen to answer teacher's call, to retrieve her key ring, there he had been. he had stood over teacher's shoulder, watching romilly as her shaking hands clutched the ring. don't judge me for this fear, she wanted to shout at him, this opportunity should be yours. instead, she clenched her jaw and hurried back to her seat.

settling in was something she would save for later - even looking at the cavalier cot made her feel nauseous - so she had mumbled a curt "excuse me," to her necromancer and beelined for some fresh air. and now, here she was, met with the presence of another necromancer. althaea sextus, her brother's voice sounded in her head, a doctor. someone he might have known. at althaea's words, romilly took a breath and shrugged. "it's - different, yeah. the second house has... a bit more sand." a sad attempt at a joke, to seem a little less frightened than she is. "i don't know much about the lyctors, but if this was their home, then i'd guess so. to live surrounded by so much mystery seems... difficult to manage." and yet, that's the circumstance romilly found herself in, the circumstance they all were in, as of today.

[altha6a]

Althaea's head turns, turning toward the woman. Septimus. It was rare to find Heptanary blood cancer in deep space. The Cohort nearly accepted anyone, but they'd reject the Seventh House unless it was a necromancer. Too much of a risk, they claimed. But now they knew it well enough, the signs and symptoms to check for. They felt the salt that lingered in the air caressing her cheeks, looking at Septimus as the wind ruffled the other's hair, “Should you need a partner to adventure with—” Althaea spoke, a sharp grin on their cheeks. “Then I would very much wish to put myself forward for such a role. It is far too big of a fortress to conquer alone. Two is company, three is a crowd? Perhaps we sneak off where our cavalier's cannot find us and get lost somewhere?”

Innogen had never been one to venture out and explore her surroundings. Well, correction. She had always longed to do so, but her illness and the watchful eyes of her family and staff kept her from wandering off far. She often felt like a bird trapped in a cage, destined to fly around her enclosure until death captured her in its grasp, but maybe for once, she could fly free--- even if it's just for a moment.

She paused at the girl's voice, not realizing that she wasn't alone in her admiration of the sea. Her eyes examined the Sixth necromancer, a slight smile forming at the girl's words. It felt nice to not be the only one gawking at the unknown. "It's certainly a sight to remember." She mused, shifting in her wheelchair a bit. The last question caused her eyebrow to quirk up, mind racing with images of what the ruins could possibly hold. "If they had, their findings might be recorded in the library. But," She knew it was a bad idea but suggested it anyway, "I would rather uncover Caanan House's secrets myself, rather than read about it in a book."

[altha6a]

“Ah, the best part of being in the Cohort. See new places, meet new people, occasionally get involved in trench warfare.” It had been a welcome surprise to see Philly again— unexpected, but there was something about seeing a familiar place on an unfamiliar planet that soothed them. The Fourth House has always soothed her, far too calm and kind in the face of tragedy. In the crucible of space, they'd run amuck in the stars— and now again on the green of the First House. “I admit, I have always admired the Fourth, the skyline must be stunning. I didn't experience a sunset until I left the Sixth.”

“Maybe—? Architectural integrity is not a strong suit of mine... but the structures seem well-built, I can't imagine that decay only occurred over a myriad. Frustratingly, most of the pre-Resurrection knowledge is cultural, not structural,” Althaea paused for a second, a hum. Their head tilts slightly, looking toward the ruins again for a moment, the crumbling and decaying cities that once layered the land. “I... we could try? Worst case, Teacher just brushes us off or says no. It could be worth a try— if you want?”

"It almost didn't feel real the first time I saw a sky without rings. Couldn't figure out where everyone got their water from if not from ice debris…" That and a sky that wasn't yellow had made Philly feel like she'd stepped into a story when she'd landed for her first deployment. Now though? Well maybe the phrase wasn't "used to" but she felt less shocked any time she faced a new planet. Not to say that this one wasn't shocking in it's own way. An expanse of water this big wasn't exactly common and the dark shapes in the depths and on the horizon spoke of being built at least a myriad ago, if not longer. She wondered idly if it had been the first lyctors. At least until the warden suggested that they might be even older than that.

"Shit Doc, I didn't even think of that. You really think they're older than even the first house?" She leaned forward slightly, trying to see if she could spot anything that'd distinguish the ruins' age… Like she'd know what to even look for. "Do you think that…" Philly trailed off as she gestured vaguely towards the nearest of the robed individuals. "Uh… Teacher?" That was what one of them had asked to be called right? "Do you think Teacher would know if we asked?"

[altha6a]

“Master Sextus,” Althaea parrots back. The words still feel unfamiliar and strange, a different title layered upon them. “Shall I return to calling you First Lieutenant Levante? Or whatever title was imbued upon you when you became my cavalier? Honestly, I honestly can't even remember what that was.” The ascension to Master Warden of the Library was drowned in administrative and procedural papers, and while Althaea is confident that there was some title assigned to him— she just has absolutely no recollection of what it was.

Her scapula pair together, the sharp stretch followed by a click as they sit, the slight crease in their coat as she perched on the bed. The room is... average. Sunlight bleeds through the salt-stained windows, the furniture coloured with decay and age. It does draw curiosity as to the original purpose of the room. And its inhabitants. Did the original Lyctor's sequester themselves here? Virgil's words draw her back to attention, a sharp hum from their lips, a consideration, “I wouldn't call it not a ceremony. Ceremony adjacent. The cousin of a ceremony.”

“Leave?” There's an unexpected quietness to her words, a strange vulnerability seeping through. Their lips are quirked, the curve of their cupids bow almost quivering for a moment before the emotion is smoothed over. Hidden and returned back, embarrassed even about the display. One hand smooths over the crease, pressing it flat in distraction. “You are free to explore— if you want. But I would never ask you to leave. After all, these are your quarters too.” What is mine is yours— one flesh, one end. She leaves it unspoken but it still sits on their tongue.

THESE ARE OUR DAYS AHEAD.

♘ ˚ — closed starter, written for @altha6a !

               𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍   𝐀𝐍𝐃   𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐘   𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒   𝐀𝐒   𝐇𝐄   𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐒   𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐓   𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆   𝐇𝐈𝐌   𝐀𝐍𝐃   𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑   𝐓𝐎   𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑   𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑.   Virgil’s   eyes   trail   along   the   walls   of   the   decrepit   castle,   memorizing   the   winding   hallways   they’re   led   through   until   they   arrive   in   front   of   a   large wooden door that creaks   when   it’s   swung   open.   He   steps   inside   after   Dr. Sextus,   his   stiff posture   finally   softening   once they're alone.   The   reception   of   their   hosts   left   him   unnerved. There was... weight to it; an invisible mass settled on his shoulders. Expectation, perhaps scrutiny.   Now   that   they’re   away   from   the   stifling   atmosphere,   he   heaves   a   great   sigh   of   relief.

❛❛ You   know   Doctor–   Master   Sextus…   The   ceremonies   I’ve   attended   are   sparse–   even   rarer   are   the   ones   I’ve   been   in. Now I'm tallying them up one after another. ❜❜   Virgil   states,   opening   his   jacket   by   the   lapel.   He   rips   a   hole   into   the   interior   lining   using   the   old   keychain,   clasping   it   closed   once   it   pierces   the   fabric.   He’s   determined   not   to   lose   it,   although   he   doesn’t   know   why.   Intuition   is   his   best   lead   from   today   onwards;   if   it   were   unimportant,   they   wouldn’t   have   made   a   big   deal   of   handing   them   out. 

❛❛ Well, did that count as a ceremony ? ❜❜   Frowning,   Virgil   makes   sure   the   keychain   is   secure   by   tugging   on   it.   Once   he’s   sure,   he   closes   the   flap   of   his   jacket   and   places   his   hand   over   his   chest.   He   needs   to   get   accustomed   to   the   weight   against   his   left   breast.   ❛❛ Regardless, you should wind down, we've had a long trip. I can leave the room, if you like. We can take stock of– ❜❜ He pauses, ❛❛ all of this after you've rested. ❜❜

[altha6a]

“All of the water on the Sixth House is brought from cargo ships,” Althaea's voice cuts through the lapping of the waves, where the tide draws to the rocks. Unprompted, only dragged from their throat as they feel the presence of another. A terrible us of their time, staring into the abyss, and not attempting to unravel the strangeness of Canaan House. S shells of sea urchin's lingering along the shorelines, a blue crab scampering along and into the salty depths— all merely existing on this uninhabited planet. Unaware of what surrounded them. The ocean stretches beyond the horizon, vanishing into the cerulean of the sky, mixing into one endless stain of blue. Only interrupted by the grey divots of buildings that have fallen to even greater rot then Canaan House. How open... How refreshing. The entirety of the Sixth lived buried underground, sealed away to save them from the raging heat of Dominicus, starving them of any light. And of the sea. “I've read about it but seeing it... it's very different. A planet, almost entirely covered in water. And the ruins— do you think the previous Lyctor's explored them?”

[altha6a]

Cuypers Library, Amsterdam

[altha6a]

Sylvia Plath, from The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

[altha6a]

AUBRI IBRAG AS LIZZY ELMSWORTH THE BUCCANEERS SEASON ONE EPISODE FIVE

[altha6a]

WHAT MAKES THE GIRL DIFFERENT? I SUSPECT IT HAS LESS TO DO WITH WHAT SHE IS, AND RATHER MORE WITH WHAT SHE IS NOT.

writing blog for Althaea Sextus, the sixth necromancer from dominicusrpg. written by niamh (25, they/them, aotearoa new zealand).

basics

FULL NAME:   Althaea Sextus,  born Althaea Tsadasa TITLES:   Master Warden of the Library,  Heir of the Sixth House,  Scion of the Sixth House NICKNAME(S):   Thaea BIRTHPLACE:   The Sixth House GENDER AND PRONOUNS:   Agender, she/they ORIENTATION:   Pansexual OCCUPATION: Cohort field necromancer, Cohort combat doctor (retired from), Master Warden of the Sixth House

appearance

FACECLAIM:   Aubri Ibrag EYES:   Dark brown, almost black. Absorbs almost all the light near them, often considered eerie. HAIR:   Curly, HEIGHT:   5’ 11“ BUILD:   Mesomorph DISTINGUISHING MARKS:   -

background

FATHER:   Rasul Tsadasa

FATHER’S INFORMATION:   Born and raised on the Sixth, he was designated as an Alexandrite, and sent off-world, eventually moving back and retiring on the Sixth with his wife, and two children.

MOTHER:   Merila Bayat

MOTHER’S INFORMATION:   Originally from the Fifth, Merila was recruited through the genetic outreach program upon meeting Rasul, and relocated to the Sixth.

OLDER BROTHER:   Magomet Tsadasa

BROTHER’S INFORMATION:    Younger than Althaea, and currently training in the Swordsmen Spire.

personality

MBTI:   infj-t,   the advocate,   introverted / intuitive / feeling / judging ENNEAGRAM:   type two,   the helper,   demonstrative, generous, people-pleasing, possessive TEMPERAMENT:   melancholic,  earth,   leaning, depressed, steadiness / supportive TROPES:   the medic,  squishy wizard

POSITIVE TRAITS:   Empathetic, curious, intelligent, eager, selfless NEGATIVE TRAITS:   Over-reaching, sensitive, perfectionist, workaholic, obsessive