nyloth

[nyloth]

For all of Luna's mistakes, her inherent deficits and diluted blood, there were still smarts about her. Each piece of her that was reminiscent of her drow heritage often screamed forth, a harrowing Message too potent to ignore. Nyloth thought briefly of Evanuris' desire to shift their Spider Goddess' voice unto this mortal coil, and looking upon this hollowborn before her; the Matron of all Mothers was certain that Luna could live up to her moniker of being the Message. "It's smart of you, they often leer at what they are unfit to understand." A pause, Nyloth always the clear statue of taut composure, "Is that it for you; living in the in between of worlds? I think your abilities, your blood; the Dark Mother would have her use for you and such usefulness and piety, would not go unfavored."

Her spine straightens and she looks the Matron of all Mothers in the eyes, she is to respect Nyloth but Drow society have always taught the importance of intelligence and to operate in shadow -- it is a dangerous thing to speak of where she lives now, ascension comes through weak houses and there is a reason why she left the Underdark. She is hollowborn, was able to coax life forth in a skeletal place and has different blood that runs through her veins. She loves her grove where her cottage lies and changelings, goblins and dire wolves roam and called forth -- she is bound to all the Eldritch creations. "I'm not living with the Elves, there is no place for me there. My matron mother is a dark elf." She had no interest in her father, although she had been listening lately and on the hunt, he was from the dusk court and his elemental power of rot and vine had grown through his daughter.

[nyloth]

"Denial. It's amazing how far you can get on denial. You know why so many people use denial to get by? Because it really fucking works. The thing about denial is sometimes problems do just go away on their own, so it makes it feel like denial works. The placebo effect. Sometimes it works, like I said. But other times, it doesn't. It really fucking doesn't."

[nyloth]

“Oh my dear wyveryn, that was me being civil,” though the Devout nodded out of respect for his wishes; truthfully, he was not technically a man and Nyloth felt no sacrifice for respecting her revenant as he should have come to respect her. The bond between revenant and the one they were bound to protect was not without hurdles or humps, but Nyloth cared little for their daily banter so long as Boranehn was there to protect and fight for the Matron Mother should the moment call for it. Nyloth stood to leave, “I’m to go to the temple now, but know I expected no less of you and all that predates your tether to me.”

"I would normally sever someone's tongue for speaking ill of him, but I will merely ask that you not speak of him at all. I shall be sure to do the same." Clearly, the woman he was tethered to and the man he had chosen to love were not at all civil. However, out of respect, he would be sure not to mention the archsatyr to her going forward. It would only end badly for either of them and he preferred to keep their relationship as pristine as possible. That was no threat he had thrown her way, but one thing would always be certain in this life and any life Boranehn was forced into. He would always have Hyrsam. Nevertheless, he cleared his throat and continued. "Oh, I am sure Lloth has much planned for you, Matron Mother. And I shall be by your side through it all." One shoulder lifted into a shrug. "Consider that another promise."

[nyloth]

“Not quite,” Nyloth smiled, something cunning and evasive; the Devout was a nurturing presence lorded above each house as the absolute Mother before, formerly Ayi’ig, and Lloth. Lloth’s favor was not an infinite thread to rely on for even those the Weaver proposed favoritism towards could quickly be revoked upon; sometimes, the Dark Mother merely vied to catch her followers in a telling trap, a ruse which would lead to a weaker one’s death. Sinbyrn had promise, but her promise was not an absolute that could be immeasurable towards her faith of Lloth; even the most Devout could be deterred and that was where Nyloth came into play for her Priestess. If one was to deflect or falter, she would be there to weed them out as Lloth’s web continued to filter out to the realms here and beyond. “Though you’re right that you did develop foresight unlike your Mother, it will fare you well in your continued studies. Lloth’s favor does not rely solely on your pietism, but you would be wise to continue it.” Blind devotion was this fallible structure, something that Nyloth had maneuvered within her own vespers to Lloth over the millenia.  

♝

Contentment was the bane of existence in the Underdark. Sinbyrn knew this well. To be satisfied with her position and want for nothing more would be akin to believing she was entitled to Lloth's favor. She strived for greatness because it was the minimum of what the Weaver expected of her. "My own Mother was quite comfortable. A minor house lording over even lower houses, I suppose the coveting of a spec is what kept her blind to potential threats. When her legacy was devoured in the shadows, she was quite shocked." Sinbyrn remembered her former Mother's expression well and reveled in the anguish she had wrought on her childhood home. Now the Priestess stood above it all with all the freedom to claim more for herself than her Mother dared to dream of. "I did not inherit her shortcomings and won't be made a victim like her. But I am merely a humble servant. I only take what She whispers for me to take as she always has. If the Weaver disapproved of my path she'd undoubtedly ignore my prayers, yes?"

[nyloth]

“Do you find it wise to mock the Dark Mother?” If Hyrsam didn’t need to be harvested and feasted upon as apart of his divined damnation, Nyloth would have proposed the clovened god as the perfect long pig; though that was a bias the Devout needed to cleanse of herself. Each god and deity had their part within the Spider Queen’s eternal web, even Hyrsam. A wagging finger came up, how motherly of her, “Her handmaidens have eyes and ears everywhere; if she needs something of you, she will send for you.” Nyloth was not ignorant to the many identities and shams Hyrsam clung to.

"I knew it, I knew she was smitten with you." Hyrsam thought Nyloth would have learned her lesson about marrying Gods, but the heart wanted what the heart wanted. How else would Boranehn have landed a catch like Hyrsam? "Not since Barbra and Neil has there been a better match." He wondered if the rest of the Court knew that Nyloth was fortunate that people rarely believed his words. "Do you think Lloth needs a spokesperson or something? Maybe someone for hair and makeup, I know a very talented homosexual currently in between jobs." It was him, well, it was Raul, but that was just Hyrsam again. "He painted Cher."

[nyloth]

end.

The bite of a Myrlochar, something which could permanently sap the strength from the offender, invigorating the spider cleric's of Lloth even further. Where once they razed Underdark communities for nonbelievers, Ayi'ig's society had become so tightly knit they'd found other uses for the Abyssal entities; Nyloth seemed fond of the reminder. Where a dark elf could deflect, shift to Oberon's decree, a Myrlochar was an eternal follower who relished in the violence and destruction that was at the cynosure of drow beliefs. "Ayi'ig often swayed from any influential counseling," it was the only unsavory comment Nyloth would make out of respect for a Queen whose purpose had been fulfilled; as Kthanid's former companion, Nyloth understood the feeling of being cleansed from a society once one no longer served it. Her piety had been wasted on the Elysian gods, on Yidhra and Titania; but the Devout had been salvaged by Lloth and her tenebrous decree; she owed the Weaver her all. "There are few notable enough to adopt the helm, but I will ensure proper preparations are met so you and your Handmaidens can set your sights on other societies in need of your aid." Ayi'ig had stumbled, that much had been clear before her death but as Evanuris backed up the very reality, it became apparent that the Queen had been stumbling for quite some time and her life of royalty and use had come full circle. The ritual had not taken, but it had certainly not been Nyloth's time to ascend; the time would be right when all was corrected in the Underdark and the Devout would will it so for the society she'd reared alongside Ayi'ig and the other original drow.

[nyloth]

The shadows were her home, and though Hakanalia was a rare appearance unto this mortal realm, these yapping puppies was pushing it for the Devout. Despite this, her missive to sit amongst the muck and musk was only for a particular concubine that had come into her clutches, someone Nyloth had become avid in embellishing by letting him be privy to her life, her world, and the sordid inbetweens. The dark elf smiled as gray hands fell to his shoulder blades, Nyloth manifesting behind him as the warforged tilted his head back, “That’s not my doing.”

closed starter for @nyloth location: lupercalia note: charge him up baBY

Even though he had come here with Marcella, he really only had one woman on the mind. Where she was always happened to be a mystery to him until she showed up. Usually, it was when he least expected it. Or really when he started thinking about her in the slightest. Wandering around, he looked at the many stalls surrounding him looking for any sign of her. Vinny had split off from Marcella for a reason and it wasn't just to oil his fucking joints. "Nyloth," was all he said as he sat on a bench and tilted his head back. "I'm starting to look crazy over here."

[nyloth]

HYPNOTIC (2021) dir. Matt Angel & Suzanne Coote

Kate Siegel as Jenn Thompson @lgbtqcreators creator bingo - lgbtq celeb

[nyloth]

@.katesiegelofficial: limited edition

[nyloth]

Through the web Lloth had conceived, Nyloth was ever willing. Her dark sacrament had been interrupted, a wretched sign from the Fates, as time reverted and Nyloth was given new prayer to instill upon the dark elves before her true ascent. Nyloth had begun her most faithful act towards the Weaver yet, scouring the Underdark and the Drow Court in search of one who could bear the brunt of the udadrow. Guided with Lloth, chosen through fruitful prayers from the Devout, Nyloth had discovered Sinbyrn and had demanded she be reared within her piety directly under the Devout. "You have earned your right to stand amongst this clergy," a smile like a knife, "But do not grow comfortable in your talents, there's always room to grow." Sinbyrn did not yet know of Nyloth's own web, to weave the Priestess in her imagery, to hone an ample replacement as the Devout stepped towards serving Lloth directly. Her promise would not be out of ambition to serve as replacement, Sinbyrn's ambition would strengthen merely because she wished to be an absolute amongst the udadrow.

who?: @nyloth where?: the court, somewhere sacred where the baddies hang, i don't have a map

♝

Fresh from her devotions, Sinbryn wears the robes of a priestess instead of the armor of a general. She felt at ease after prayer, always finding great comfort in the Weaver's whispers. As she stepped from the darkened worship chamber and removed the hood of her cloak, Sinbyrn fell to her knees before a priestess who'd earned her reverence. As far as she was concerned, Nyloth was the soul individual at the helm of their society. A Queen in her own right, the two fools who shared her title would never receive an ounce of the respect Sinbyrn showed her. "Mother, I do hope you remain pleased with all my efforts at Court. It is through your instruction that I remain my best and feel empowered to strive for further perfection." Sinbyrn would never place the comfort of Lloth's web beneath another's, but the one Nyloth cast was its own comfort here at Court. She endeavored to remain worthy of the Matron's shadow. "My prayers have been much more potent now that our worship spaces have been purified. I'm so incredibly grateful that the subpar priests have been expelled from our ranks."

[nyloth]

Time warped differently in the Underdark, this vestige of darkness that occluded any from the other realms, it was any miracle for the hollowborn that she'd escaped. Time, however slow within the passages of Ayi'ig's crumbling reign, was shifting and as Nyloth scrubbed and cleaned at the tarnished legacy Ayi'ig heralded, the Devout had to be open to other means. Colluding with a hollowborn, even one who had deflected from their realm as though she could ever live truly among the fey, was something Nyloth now considered as she silently inspected Lloth and Evanuris' message to her. "Tell me; where is it you are taken residence now? Don't tell me you're living amongst the fey, the elves." She was certain the high elves had closed their realm to any deviant of them, but Nyloth had seen them slip before, and her cunning eye would be on the lookout for any give, again.

Test tube shots had gone down easy and she had taken the fang studded costume piece without qualm, as it was a party where everyone was getting higher than a kite, she had led more of her eldritch physiology rise to the surface, purple irises and violet skin that was marred with specks of golden obsidian. Spitting the fangs into her hand upon the Devout's approach, she always wondered when they would come for her. One doesn't simply flee the Underdark without repercussions. "I am Mother." An obedient answer as she was trained.

[nyloth]

It was often a miracle that Hyrsam didn't have the ability to talk himself to death, his head amassing to burst from all the up selling the archsatyr did of himself. Nyloth smiled, falsely pleasant, throughout her rebirth and resurrection one feeling remained true; Hyrsam was a nuisance she'd come to tolerate. Malevolent, mischievous, and cloven-hooved; as a dark elf she could stomach the first two, but turned her nose up at the last. "You'll make up your own conclusion," she could invoke her honesty upon him, but Hyrsam would twist and meddle as he saw fit and so she concluded the question with a firm statement, though that kindling in her eyes would tell enough to the archsatyr. They say to never meet your idols, but Nyloth's piety was an admirable clause that could not be converted.

"You must be referring to my antics, don't worry don't worry, why yes I'll be in NYC hosting the ball drop I will be returning to Rome come the New Year. Say, do you like football? They gave me season tickets last month after I resuscitated one of their players from the absolute brink of death, the whole team owes me a life debt. I have a whole box if you'd like to join me, naturally you should bring Boranehn too." He knew how much the wyvern liked balls. "Yidhra's dead Nyloth, the only place where she's laying is in the dirty." Hyrsam knew full well that it was just a playful turn of phrase but more than anything the drow were fun to contend with. "I heard a rumour about you, Nyloth." Most weren't true but this one was especially interesting, "While the world was ending you took to the Abyss: did you meet her? Your Goddess."

[nyloth]

how is she real

x

[nyloth]

The bite of a Myrlochar, something which could permanently sap the strength from the offender, invigorating the spider cleric's of Lloth even further. Where once they razed Underdark communities for nonbelievers, Ayi'ig's society had become so tightly knit they'd found other uses for the Abyssal entities; Nyloth seemed fond of the reminder. Where a dark elf could deflect, shift to Oberon's decree, a Myrlochar was an eternal follower who relished in the violence and destruction that was at the cynosure of drow beliefs. "Ayi'ig often swayed from any influential counseling," it was the only unsavory comment Nyloth would make out of respect for a Queen whose purpose had been fulfilled; as Kthanid's former companion, Nyloth understood the feeling of being cleansed from a society once one no longer served it. Her piety had been wasted on the Elysian gods, on Yidhra and Titania; but the Devout had been salvaged by Lloth and her tenebrous decree; she owed the Weaver her all. "There are few notable enough to adopt the helm, but I will ensure proper preparations are met so you and your Handmaidens can set your sights on other societies in need of your aid." Ayi'ig had stumbled, that much had been clear before her death but as Evanuris backed up the very reality, it became apparent that the Queen had been stumbling for quite some time and her life of royalty and use had come full circle. The ritual had not taken, but it had certainly not been Nyloth's time to ascend; the time would be right when all was corrected in the Underdark and the Devout would will it so for the society she'd reared alongside Ayi'ig and the other original drow.

Evanuris felt her lips tilt at the offer; it was a generous offer but also a familiar one. She took the careful patience necessary to bring the body lower, "Ayi'ig welcomed any man from childhood into her priesthood; naturally, this was a mistake. Devotion from a boy is impossible to discern from their youth, in the last age Lloth permitted their presence after a proving. The Militant Myrlochar, raise one fanatic, and the rest fall in line." Evanuris wouldn't need to explain as much to Nyloth; even as a High Elve, the woman would have known of the dark paladins that led campaigns of udadrow alongside Lloth's priesthood. "Lloth cares very little for who stands at the helm, man, woman: dark, calculated chaos is her wish." Naturally, Evanuris had prejudices, but it was not for her to decide. Evanuris spoke plainly; the Matron had done well to make an example out of her son, but it would not be enough. Two men stood as Nyloth's equal within the triumvirate, a Court of three at the pinnacle of drow society. "It's not only Lloth's gaze that has fallen on this Court, but the entirety of the Underdark and the empire you helped shepherd from a dead, faithless age. What happens here will have far-reaching consequences. It's time for you to consider legacy; you were the bride of a God, and you've led this priesthood for thousands of years. You are the Matron of all Mothers, but surely your ambition doesn't end here. There's a place for you among our order, perhaps even higher, but succession must be secured, and the future of the Courts, however you envision it, will first need to be achieved."

[nyloth]

"That pound of goat flesh will credit himself with any accolade," her lip curled, the Devout still had past transgressions from her past life to pardon; she'd pray harder to Lloth to cleanse her of these paltry nuisances. "Honestly Boranehn, I do not see what you see, but I will forgive you under Lloth's will so long as his unpolished hooves don't distract from your duty." Nyloth was no fool and as the Matron Mother, she'd not disregard what he'd said, she even took it personally. She sighed, only her revenant was to be privy to this, it was important they were in tune to one another as he'd once been to Sehanine and Ayi'ig. His final words resounded within her, offering a brief nod, "I cannot assure you of what Lloth has planned for me, but I can say that death is not my Absolute."

The words that left Nyloth's mouth had him raising a brow. Boranehn was no listener of the music that they listened to in that mortal realm, but he was also not capable of getting away from it when the current mayor was around. He let out a sigh and spoke. "Is that not a song that singer Justin Timberlake has sung before that Hyrsam credits himself as being the influence behind?" He wasn't even sure if Nyloth herself knew that was a song, but honestly he regretted even bringing it up in the first place. He waved a hand between them. "Please disregard me saying that." His staff was lifted to be placed within its sheath on his back as she continued. "I have lost that who I have been a companion to before. I am not blind to the end that has come to her. I can offer you that of me, Nyloth."

[nyloth]

The blood dripped strategically over the molded curves of the altar, something the Devout had seen a million times over, but something that was equally as therapeutic each time the familiar sound echoed subtly into the cavernous temple. Between the two of them, a certain comfort resounded as their paths and will both aligned faithfully to Lloth, trust bloomed as a result, "As staunchly devout as a I am, I foolishly overlooked the necessity of stretching Lloth's influence to this realm." So preoccupied the the drow court, so disinterested in the mortal realm, even the Devout could fare to learn new things when they presented themselves. "I'd hope to be of assistance to you in anyway." A slight bow of her head, she was the matron of all mothers, but it was the Handmaidens and feminine royals of this world she respected deeply; humility could often be vital even in cutthroat udadrow society, it didn't dilute her lethality. Evanuris continued and Nyloth offered a glint of a smile, coy as her eyes followed the pallored body as it was lowered once more upon the slab, "Suitable? There may be none of the sort, but there are those we can come to accept worship from." A small pause at the final question, nodding, "Indulgence in this world is a given, it's fruits are still ripe for our taking, after all." It was certainly new to Nyloth, and it was clear the mortal realm was fresh for Evanuris, too. "I'll be sure to seek out some courtesans I can gift to you, it'd only be a small recompense for all you've done and still have yet to do."

While the questions were personal in nature, it was just the two of them there. Tendons loosened, ligaments separated, Evanuris lifted the body strategically with her threads so that when she cut the man's throat his blood pooled and collected over the altar. Something as common as desire wasn't a currency among drow, but to know all the epithets of pain one also had to understand its greatest contradiction: pleasure. "Lloth's influence is woefully small in the mortal realm, I plan to establish a sanctum within the catacombs there to convert the willing." Harellan was an example of a diamond in the midst of it all, perhaps Blair as well: they would never be drow, but they were still suitable in carrying out Lloth's will. "I will be here for some time if you had recommendations for suitable courtesans, be they in the Court or elsewhere, I'd take them into consideration." Evanuris wasn't especially particular, so long as her opponent was someone who knew what they were doing, otherwise they might be the next to end up upon this slab. The blood stilled and the body was lowered once more, "Have you indulged, Mother?"

[nyloth]

Nyloth sighed, the upward flick of his tongue was a simple pleasure but she'd not summoned him here to allow them to fall to mortal and mild pleasures. He was once a mortal evidently but turned to something much more and it'd been enough to peak her interest but not enough to allow him more than a taste of the fractured divinity which still remained to her. Vinny pulled her closer, hands gripping upon the familiar palette of her greyed thighs and the Devout could offer not yet what he so wished, but something alternatively similar as she pulled at the blonde roots atop his head to stop him. Something of a harsh reprimand as shadows trailed around Vinny's arms, his legs, the gentle reminder that he was but a toy she now would relished in claiming.

The Devout's hand fell to his throat, sharp nails digging into the still mortal flesh of his neck, a light dig as most of the weight from her palm was pressed more so to constrict, grinning down at him as though she were a snake who'd coiled around their prey. "Onto the bed," softly uttered, Nyloth figured he'd do nothing but obey it as the shadows pulled and plucked at whatever remnants of clothing still remained upon the warforged.

Her nails in the hair atop his head was enough to spur him on. Well, it actually wasn't, but he thought it was for now. Vinny had been elevated to something much more than he had ever thought he could be and that only meant that he was hoping and damn near praying that she would treat him as something much less than that. In all honesty, he didn't actually deserve any part of her. His hands shouldn't have been able to drift across her skin. His lips shouldn't have been able to graze where they were between her legs. Yet she had given him a gift as her leg slung over his shoulder to pull him closer. His luck was sure to run out eventually, he was sure of it. Nevertheless, he ripped apart the undergarments and laid his tongue flat against her core before licking a line upwards. While he flicked his tongue, his hands gripped her hips to pull her closer and wrap her legs further around his neck. There just wasn't enough choking going on so he assumed he had to make it known that that was exactly what he wanted.