#it really felt like it tied up all the loose ends and the fey family storyline was so cool

[pennamepersona]

thinking about how klavier + kristoph vs. apollo + trucy is a really interesting contrast of siblings and how well they fit into the themes of family (blood vs. chosen and how there's sometimes overlap; putting your trust in an older relative's advice and having it backfire/being treated as a pawn; finding commonality in a shared family trait/tradition; etc.) establish in the original trilogy would've been a pretty cool thread to follow through the latter games, esp since it'd keep that broader theme of family as a neat and emotionally resonant common ground with the og trilogy but fuck me i guess

[ohbluejay]

MOURN ME. for @kasimirfrei​ & @ofrooks​​ // freedom comes at a cost, you know this. why do you keep paying the prize when it might not be worth it? // trigger warning for grief, mentions of death.

They don’t have graves. Maybe it has something to do with the way the Sectatores view death or maybe it’s just what the survivors deserve. No place to return to, when they want to give shape to their grief. No physical reminder of what you’ve lost. Of what they made themselves lose. No ash, no dust, no bones — nothing but the gaping hole in a chest, organ removed, frostbite. 

This is how it was always destined to be. Fate demanded that there could be one survivor, one free corvid and in this version of the story, the chosen one is Mateo — but is this freedom? Why does that concept – which really is just that: a concept, a vague idea, a promise that is never kept – always come at the steep prize of other people’s lives? Besides, isn’t it in death that one reaches complete freedom? Untethered, let loose, no longer tied down by earthly things like gravity and responsibility.

It has been three years since they got the Tear. Three years since the pay-out, which really just meant that the others had to pay up. Three years of no Blue Jay, no Caedes Corvi, no birds flocking at windows except for a curious pigeon that’s just a pigeon. Three years of trying to live with the guilt that sleeps in his bed, sits on his couch, takes a beer from his fridge and picks at his dinner. Three years of both their voices in his head, a chorus of condemnation. It should have been you, not us. I would have found a way through. I would have been the right victor.

Grief demands rituals. Mateo tends to return to the coast, because that’s where his grief has always felt best. For the others he lost, he has made other rituals: strumming guitars for Pasi and the recording of one of Isa’s performances playing quietly every now and then, Anezka’s books sitting on a shelf and the lighter Fei once stole off only used to light candles. He’s not sure how to mourn Lawrence or most of the others, but he tries.

But for them, he drives to the coast. 

He’s always mourned family there, a childlike belief that his mother lives within the waves having stuck to him. If there’s no ashes, no bones, no bodily remains: then there is this. From all the metaphors about grief, he’s always liked the one about the sea most. That it ebbs and flows, takes and gives, reaches and subtracts. That no matter how calm the ocean might be one moment, it will always be ruthless the next. Grief, endless and cyclical, repetitive and systemic.

He parks his car and sits in it until the song finishes. It’s another little ritual: these mix tapes he’s made, continues to make. Music released into the world in the years they no longer breathe, reminding him of them — as if that, too, is just proof that there really is no free will. That things are created to remind him of his suffering and that he’s not alone in that. This is not a comforting thought. It never has been. 

Eyes closed, hands on steering wheel. He’s loitering. Delilah would berate him for it, Kasimir would sit with him in it. If he wasn’t here, neither of them would sit here, accepting his grief and building rituals around it — Kasimir would undo the structures that had made this so. Delilah would look away from it and hold her head high. Mateo lets himself be swallowed. Wades into the salty waters of loss and considers floating away on it. Carried to whatever is behind the horizon.

Sometimes, he tries to do what they might have done. Rage pushes him to investigate the Faceless, to hunt this thing that cannot be hunted, to think of vengeance as a higher cause followed in their name. Other days, he tries to move as if grief hasn’t created a hole in his being and it really is easier to breathe that way, ignoring emotions. Until his lungs constrict, that is.

The song ends. He unbuckles his seatbelt, opens the door, is greeted by the air of salty sand and smiles faintly.

Two years ago, he was sitting by himself at a bar, nursing a drink and considering future paths and divergences. A conversation was struck, with a stranger — the type that can only live in the liminal space of a bar fifteen minutes before closing, continued once it does while walking cobbled roads and chain-smoking cheap cigarettes. She spoke of her brother, the freshly turned earth of his grave, the fucking headache that finding a headstone was in this economy, how ugly most of them are, how every day since the funeral had felt heavier than the one before somehow, when grief is supposed to become lighter.

Mateo listened, as he always does, and speaks then: “I had a brother and sister. I lost them, too.” Cigarette raised to lips, embers glowing. He’d switched to Kas’ favoured brand of smokes by then. “Never had a funeral. No grave.”

“Cremated?”

“No. It’s a long story, but nothing.”

She’s quiet. 

“I wish there was a grave. Even if it was with an ugly headstone. Or a place, where we scattered ashes. You know, anything.” 

A snort. “Yeah. I get that.” She lights up another cigarette, sways lightly. “Make your own place, then. It’s not the body you mourn, right? Not the dead one, I mean. So it could be anywhere. A grave, or a place.”

He’s taken off his shoes by now, socks balled up in his sneakers. Sand between his toes. Mateo feels weighed down by the weight of his body moving through the sand, but soon enough he’s standing with his feet in water. 

This is their place, this small strip of beach. An hour long walk from the parking lot, often abandoned. Sometimes he spots a seal. Most of the times, it’s just the seagulls wondering if he’s brought a snack he can share. There’s people that walk past, but not many that put down their towel. It’s — quiet, yet loud. It’s infinite.

Sometimes, it feels forced to come here. He’s stopped planning it, though: has started giving into the unpredictable beats of grief. Gets in his car and drives. Every time he gets here, where the dunes are a familiar shape and the water finally reaches his toes, he considers himself and his right to grieve them. Considers the shape of his grief. The kitchen knives that remind him of Kas, the whistling kettle that reminds him of Lila. The cruelty that got him here — his own, as well as that of the Faceless. 

What makes a sibling? It takes a pair of people putting more than one child together and undeniably tethering these children together. Red thread, binding organs and minds together. Shared experience, shared weight, shared root, shared rot. It seems dramatic, sometimes, to consider Rook and Magpie his late siblings — but hadn’t it been like that? Put together, sharing burden and stature, ordered in a natural order, tied together with red thread. 

He cannot wield a scissor to cut that thread. He couldn’t when they were in the depths of it, hunting after the Tear while hunting after each other and he still cannot now. He feels it, those tethers, pulling at his hands as waves lap at his ankles. They beckon him forward, to a place where they can once again be together. Rope around his heart, constricting. Stuck in his lungs, cramping. Tied around his stomach, removing appetite.

He stands in the sea and he always says the same: “I miss you. And I’m sorry.” 

He does not come for forgiveness, because it’s not something the dead can grant you. He comes only to have a place to lay his grief and hope that it’s enough to honour them. The only thing that’s left to do for his fellow corvids is remembrance through ritual. Make a place for them even if they no longer inhabit the world. It is not enough — but it’s all there is.

[sifeng]

Chinese Drama Villains

Villains are just as essential to a story as a hero. If you have a weak villain that has no personality beyond evil, and no reasoning behind their actions besides “because they’re evil”, then no matter how good your hero is, the story still won’t be compelling.

Today, I will compare 7 different villains from four different kinds of dramas - wuxia, xianxia, harem and revolutionary era. The eight villains can also be grouped into three different categories based on why they do what they do - for love, for power, and a struggle internally.

The eight villains I will be analyzing are as follows:

Sui He (穗禾) played by Wang Yifei (王一菲) from Ashes of Love (香蜜沉沉烬如霜) - Xianxia

Xian Fei (娴妃) played by She Shiman (佘诗曼) from The Story of Yanxi Palace (延禧攻略) - Harem

An Lingrong (安陵容) played by Tao Xinran (陶昕然) from Empresses in the Palace (甄嬛传) - Harem

Hua Fei (华妃) played by Jiang Xin (蒋欣) from Empresses in the Palace (甄嬛传) - Harem

Yang Kang (杨康) played by so many different people but from the most recent one its Chen Xingxu (陈星旭) from The Legend of the Condor Heroes (射雕英雄传) - Wuxia

Zhou Zhiruo (周芷若) played by so many different people but from the most recent one its Zhu Xudan (祝绪丹) from Heavenly Sword and Dragon Sabre (倚天屠龙记) - Wuxia

Feng Manna (冯曼娜) played by Tao Xinran (陶昕然) from Rookie Agent Rouge (胭脂) - Revolutionary Era

They can be grouped into the three categories I mentioned before in this order:

For Love - Sui He, Hua Fei, Zhou Zhiruo (kind of)

For Power - Xian Fei, An Lingrong

Internal Struggle - Yang Kang, Zhou Zhiruo (kind of), Feng Manna

Let’s analyze each category separately. Also sorry Yang Kang is the only guy villain here, but lets be real, in recent dramas haven’t the villains always been ladies?

For Love

This group is the easiest to determine what their motivation is: love. For all three, they are the second female leads (arguably) and cannot get the leading man because he obviously belongs to the female lead. 

Sui He (穗禾) played by Wang Yifei (王一菲) - Ashes of Love (香蜜沉沉烬如霜)

For Sui He, love is one of two factors that causes her to do the things she does. The other factor is because she wants to please the Heavenly Empress to keep her position as the leader of the Bird Tribe. But evidently, it seems that love is her primary motive, as the scene in which she completely breaks down is when Xu Feng (male lead) reveals he never loved Sui He and only wanted to see if she really killed Jin Mi (female lead)’s parents. When she looses leadership of the Bird Tribe, yeah, she’s sad, but not as sad as the aforementioned scene.

Hua Fei/Nian Shilan (华妃/年世兰) played by Jiang Xin (蒋欣) - Empresses in the Palace (甄嬛传) - the one in hot pink

Hua Fei’s motive is just love. She already has power within the harem (she’s tied with the Empress), and her family is super important and powerful as well. The only thing she wants is the Emperor (male lead)’s love. When the emperor is more interested in the new concubines, Shen Meizhuang and Zhen Huan (female lead), Hua Fei is ready to destroy them. She gets Shen Meizhuang out of favor by tricking her into thinking she was pregnant, and while she tries, on many occasions, to get Zhen Huan out of favor as well, it seems her ideas don’t work. 

Zhu Xudan (祝绪丹) as Zhou Zhiruo (周芷若) in Heavenly Sword and Dragon-Slaying Sabre (倚天屠龙记)

Zhou Zhiruo could technically be in two categories here, but let’s just talk about how her love for Zhang Wuji (male lead) affects her decisions. After Zhang Wuji leaves her at the altar after Zhao Min (female lead) intrudes on their ceremony and offers to help Zhang Wuji find his godfather only if he leaves with her, Zhou Zhiruo sheds the mask of innocence that she wears. She uses her unorthodox Nine White Bone Claws to try to kill Zhao Min, and this isn’t her first attempt to kill Zhao Min. She tried once to stab her in the stomach while she was sleeping, but got caught by Yin Li, who she had to kill instead. She then tried to make Zhang Wuji kill Zhao Min by pretending that Zhao Min had killed Yin Li and stolen the swords. The reason for her attempted assassinations is she is jealous that Zhang Wuji likes Zhao Min (though some of her other evil actions are for a different reason).

So What Do These Three Have in Common?

Love leads these three female villains into killing at least one person. For Sui He, she kills the Water and Wind Immortal, for Hua Fei she succeeds in giving Zhen Huan a miscarriage, and for Zhou Zhiruo, she is forced to kill Yin Li to silence her. Love drives these three into a frenzy, and they are willing to do anything or kill anyone to get the love of their respective male leads. 

Some Others in this Category:

Zhao Sese (赵瑟瑟) - Goodbye My Princess (东宫)

Su Jin (素锦) - Eternal Love (三生三世十里桃花)

Chun Fei (纯妃) - Story of Yanxi Palace (延禧攻略) - kind of an exception though since she loves the second male lead

For Power

This type of villain is seen commonly in harem dramas, and some heroines even have this as their motive (Zhen Huan, Wei Yingluo). Their basis for their horrible actions is primarily so they can gain power, usually so they can be above those who had previously stepped all over them.

Xian Fei/Hui Fa Na La Shu Shen (娴妃/辉发那拉·淑慎) played by She Shiman (佘诗曼) - Story of Yanxi Palace (延禧攻略)

Xian Fei had once been a kind and unfavored concubine who didn't bother to play in court politics (but then again, in the beginning only Gao Guifei cared at all). But after her family’s fall from power (of which she cannot do anything for), she changes dramatically. She starts by killing Jia Pin, and making all sorts of ploys to bring Wei Yingluo’s downfall. While she doesn’t hate the emperor, her motives for getting higher in the court have nothing to do with him. Her ending, while not as bad as some of the other ones, is rather tragic, as she becomes an empress that is isolated and given no real power, similar to how she started out.

An Lingrong (安陵容) played by Tao Xinran (陶昕然) - Empress in the Palace (甄嬛传)

Like Xian Fei, An Lingrong starts out weak, unfavored but still good-hearted. She is grateful for the friendship of her two friends, Zhen Huan and Shen Meizhuang, even though the emperor could care less about her. She actually starts out at the lowest title possible for a concubine and stays there for like eighteen episodes. As her power grows a little stronger, she begins to develop an inferiority complex, and she believes Zhen Huan is trying to sabotage her (even though she’s not). She ends up betraying her two good friends in the beginning and going to the empress to become her minion. Throughout this development, her title grows and grows as does her father’s importance in the court. As her power grows, her personality shifts from kind and innocent to jealous and eager to gain more power. 

Some Others in this Category:

 Hong Shiguang (洪世光) - My Amazing Boyfriend (我的奇妙男友)

So What Do These Two Have in Common?

They both start out weak and unfavored, though Xian Fei’s rank is considerably higher than An Lingrong’s. While An Lingrong doesn’t need a tragedy to get her power hungry quest started, she does require assistance at first from Zhen Huan. The two ladies both use subtle plots and schemes to bring down their competitors, and both kill somebody. Xian Fei straight up chokes Jia Pin (though not with her own hands of course) and An Lingrong causes Zhen Huan’s miscarriage by giving her an ointment whose scent causes miscarriages. Both rise considerably in power, and loose their old personalities, replacing them with a desire for power and revenge. 

Internal Struggle

This is my favorite type of villain, and also the most complex. This group of characters have some sort of struggle internally, usually on whether to do what others say, or do what seems to be easiest. They are the most emotional of these villains because even though they seem to be tough and strong on the outside, inside they have no clue what to do.

Yang Kang (杨康) played by Chen Xingxu (陈星旭) - Legend of the Condor Heroes (射雕英雄传)

Honestly, while watching the 2003 and 2017 versions and reading the novel, I felt really bad for Yang Kang, but he definitely does do things we as watchers cannot forgive. His struggle is between whether he should accept his fate as a normal Song peasant or continue being the Jurchen Prince he once was. His real father, Yang Tiexin was a Song peasant, as was his mom, Bao Xiruo. After Yang Tiexin was supposedly “killed”, Bao Xiruo married Wanyan Honglie, a Jurchen Prince, so Yang Kang could have a good life. When Yang Tiexin was revealed not to be dead, Bao Xiruo and Mu Nianci (Yang Kang’s love interest) both convinced him to accept his father was Yang Tiexin, and escape the city to live a peasant life with his real family. He refused, and Wanyan Honglie decided to run after the reunited family, this led to the deaths of Yang Tiexin and Bao Xiruo. Their deaths, as well as Yang Kang’s new struggle of “who am I?” leads him to Mu Nianci, and he finally accepts he is Yang Tiexin’s son, and a normal Song peasant. But, life as a Song peasant obviously is not as comfortable as life as a Jurchen Prince, and he constantly switches and back and forth from Song peasant to Jurchen Prince. When he discovers the reason Bao Xiruo and Yang Tiexin were separated in the first place was Wanyan Honglie; Mu Nianci, Guo Jing and Huang Rong all tell him to kill Wanyan Honglie. He is about to, but cannot do so, because well, duh, this dude raised him. For eighteen (something) years, he thought he was Wanyan Kang, and not Yang Kang.

This brings me to why he’s a villain - the things I said before, that doesn’t make him a villain, it makes him a human. But what does make him a villain is when he is willing to betray his true country (Song) for Jin, and when he then lies to Mu Nianci. 

Is he allowed to not be willing to leave the comfort of the palace? Yes. Is he allowed to not have the guts to kill Wanyan Honglie? Yes. Is he allowed to help Wanyan Honglie once in exchange for Wanyan Honglie raising him? Yes, even twice. But, is he allowed to betray his country and the person who loves him the most just for some title and some riches? No. Sure, he can stay in the palace as a Jurchen prince, but the fact that he used Mu Nianci’s connections to get information about Song army advancements and then TOLD THEM TO WANYAN HONGLIE is unacceptable. 

But I do think it ought to be said - Guo Jing, Huang Rong and Mu Nianci were being way too cruel when they asked Yang Kang to kill Wanyan Honglie. That’s like asking you to kill this man who did nothing but be nice to you and raise you as a parent should for your entire childhood. Who is cruel enough to do that? 

Feng Manna (冯曼娜) played by Tao Xinran (陶昕然) - Rookie Agent Rouge (胭脂)

I also felt really bad for Manna, especially in the beginning. In the beginning, her best friend is Lan Yanzhi, and they’re really close - that is until Yanzhi decides to betray Manna. Yanzhi decides to help the Nationalist Party by infiltrating Manna’s house and revealing how Manna’s parents are Japanese spies. Yanzhi does make the Nationalists promise that in her infiltrating the house, these actions will not hurt Manna (but of course they do). Yanzhi’s spying causes the death of Manna’s parents and the destruction of the friendship the two girls had.

So, doesn’t Yanzhi seem like the villain here? Well, two reasons she isn’t, what Manna does after these first few episodes, and because Yanzhi was helping her country (ooooh, I should do an antihero analysis too! Yanzhi would fit so perfectly). After the death of her parents, Manna can only rely on San Ge, the person she loves the most. And eventually, she is forced to go and help the Japanese, something she does with joy, and she really (really really really) wants to capture Yanzhi and torture her too. She ends up being a huge spy for the Japanese, and when she does capture Yanzhi, she unleashes all sorts of torture on her (mental, physical, all the sorts). Her willingness to betray her country just because of a broken friendship does paint her as a traitor, but you do have to consider the fact that she has no where else to go. Her parents were traitors, and so who will believe that she’s a hero? Another factor that makes her a villain is the fact that she believes her parents were correct, she believes that they’ll go to heaven, even though they were evil and wicked. While of course, we, as children (usually), see our parents as good people no matter what they do, Manna should have seen this situation in context.

But now that I write this, Manna is a very pitiful character, and if this story was told from her point of view, Yanzhi would 100% be the villain. Out of the people on this list, Manna has the most reason to do what she does, and while its not correct (what she does), she really had no other option.

Zhou Zhiruo (周芷若) played by Zhu Xudan (祝绪丹) - Heavenly Sword and Dragon Slaying Sabre (倚天屠龙记)

We’ve already seen how love impacts Zhou Zhiruo’s decisions and her evil, but another factor that causes her transformation is the pressure her master, Miejue put on her before her death. Miejue made Zhou Zhiruo promise not to ever love Zhang Wuji, and even to kill him. She made her the new leader of Emei, but also said that if Zhiruo disobeyed her, then Miejue would never get to experience peace in the afterlife. Zhiruo, who loves Zhang Wuji, but also Miejue doesn't know what to do.

On the Island, she steals the two swords, and while she tries to kill Zhao Min, her master had told her to kill Wuji. She cannot bring herself to do that (meaning she has disobeyed her master and that Miejue will not find peace in the afterlife). She then gets the Nine Yin Manual, and practices the Nine White Bone Claw skill, though she only learns the inferior unorthodox version. Zhiruo kills Yin Li, and pushes all the responsibility onto Zhao Min, continuing to pretend she too is a victim. After being left at the altar, she decides to follow through with Miejue’s orders and becomes the true leader of Emei. She shuts up one of the Emei students who used to talk trash about her by continuously hitting her with her blows until the student finally accepts Zhiruo is truly the leader. 

So What Do These Three Have in Common?

They’re being told to do one thing, but they cannot. Yang Kang is told to be a Song peasant, since he’s supposed to be one, but he would rather be a prince. Manna is told she should be sincere to her country, but the only people who will accept her are the Japanese. Zhiruo is told to forget her love for Zhang Wuji, but she loves him too much. This kind of struggle leads them to do cruel things out of confusion or anger. These are the most complex villains, with motives that go beyond just one thing. They do bad things because they cannot live up society’s expectations of a good person, and go the opposite way instead.

So What Makes a Good Villain?

The ones I’ve included as analysis are all good villains, but my favorite, in terms of how complex he is, is Yang Kang. He are real, human, and his motives go beyond just one reason. Manna was also really complex, and also she had just a great transformation. She is kind of forced into the role of a villain because there’s no where else to go. Honestly, though she does some bad things, people in that show (Rookie Agent Rouge) all do bad things, even good guys, so she’s a great reflection of how cruel society can be. She’s a victim, and because no one was willing to help her, or because she wasn’t wiling to accept the truth, she turned into the villain. My least favorite type of villains is the “do it for love” type, since, realistically, few people would go to the point of murder for love. 

One of the reasons I feel like Manna is such a good villain, is because Tao Xinran played her role so well. Jiang Xin’s Hua Fei was also SO GOOD! You can see that behind that mask of power and sass, she’s just a little girl who wants to be loved by the one she loves. So, while writing is very important, I think acting is very important as well. You have to create a good character, with human traits and realistic motives, and also an actor or actress has to be able to play out these traits. 

[long-way-down-rp-archive]

Devana

True Name: No  Faceclaim: Eva Green  Nicknames and Aliases: Dziewanna, Dziewona, Debena, or Dilwica; Various names and titles throughout history.  Date of Birth: Unknown  Apparent Age: 36  Actual Age: Primordial  Gender: Female  Kind or Calling: Wild Spirit - Ancient One Occupation: Currently unemployed, but has worked a large variety of jobs in the past, in both rural and high populace areas.

Distinguishing Marks: Variety of smaller scars on her hands from knives and being overall very active outside especially. Calluses on her hands to reflect this as well, but her archery leaves its own calluses and wear as well. Scars from a branding iron across her ribs that she doesn’t really bother hiding - not these days, anyway. During the times of witch trials, she was extremely paranoid about ensuring there was no way they’d be seen. She also has had Veles' sigil tattooed over her heart.

Personality: Fiercely independent - Devana's iconography was specifically known for her hair being unbound even as a married woman, she cannot and blatantly refuses to ever be anything close to "tamed" and enjoys living her life as she wants to. Often a bit reckless, she likes to push her own limits and is competitive as part of that. She's often in love and enchanted with how quickly the world around her can change, but has grown towards more cynical tendencies with how the world is choosing to change - what mortals have done, how quickly they forget. In retaliation, she tends towards thinking that fear is the best method towards forcing mortals to remember her - she has, after all, been far better remembered as a dark sorceress than she ever has been as a huntress. There's also a level of practicality to her, to ensuring that she will survive no matter what anyone else throws at her - and that she'll take what measures are necessary to ensure that's the case. Despite this, she's still a goddess of spring, a goddess of the forests and creatures who need her help or are suffering are sure to get her mercy. The question is if that mercy is her tending to them or if it'll be a knife across their throat.

History: Mortals are overly fascinated with creation. With beginnings and ends, as though they were clearly cut, defined, and labeled - easily found and known, confined by their view of time as a linear force. Between the space of one breath and the next, as an arrow was released and before it struck home, as a plea, a mental cry that wasn't quite a prayer - before these, she did not exist. And then she did. Devana came into being no beginning, no birth. Only a need, only a hope, a tale told to family, a hope for guidance, a plea for food, for luck, for the arrow to strike - Devana was born of the belief, of the mortal need for something else to be there. And so magic responded, it created. It created a being that changed for each believer, who had memories for every story that the mortals told of her, and had none of them. She was shaped by belief, born from it, but as mutable as the mortals themselves for it. To her, all of the tales were true. And yet, none were - to her, she was born fully fledged and independent. And her own beliefs shaped her in turn, made her an individual. Made her real, because she believed she would be.

For Devana, nothing was simple. For a time, she wanted it to be - found joy in hunting, pride in it. Shared luck and tragedy, helped predator and prey, indulged worship and responded to it. Satisfaction in arrows that hit true, challenge in those that did not. Balance in her connections with nature, knowing the forests so well that her ankles would never turn on a root or rock, knowing every safe foothold and finding it without the slightest thought. Found balance and laughter, bright as the sun, with the push and pull of Veles - the connection to him that was as sure as the ground beneath her feet as the forest connected them both. Felt freedom in the thud of her mare's hooves against the ground, in her hair loose and free as few women's were - freedom that was challenged with something so simple as a contest, one that promised her hand to the victor.

Gods have little concept of time, little concept for linear timelines, but she remembered meeting him. She'd hunted him, only seeing the bear he wore, lumbering through the forest. Unnaturally large, marking it as all the more satisfying of prey for her. She tracked it, triumphant when she lined the shot and released the arrow - triumph that was quickly replaced with horror, as fur turned to skin, claws to fingers, bear to man. He smirked at her and something in her world shifted, changed to include him. Veles was a constant, a presence that had lurked at the edges of her and became real when she shook his hand for the first time and tried to ignore that he felt something like being complete. He was the other part of her as a forest god, his charm and flirtation annoying and strangely enthralling in one. He made her laugh, provided challenge, tricked and played and laughed in turn. In retrospect, Devana is fairly certain she had been falling in love with him since the start.

The contest was supposed to be something of a lark, one of archery. Devana felt no fear at the time - she was the goddess of hunting, of archery, after all. Who could possibly win against her? Many gods tried and failed all the same, hitting a wall against her own skill, much to her amusement. And then Perun stepped forward. He shot first, as challenger, and Devana stepped up next. Her arrow wobbled just enough, just a hair, and it wasn't until she saw Perun's triumphant smirk that she remembered -he was a god of weapons. Both their eyes went to Veles in the instant before Perun kissed her.

It should've been the end of it. Of the flirtation, the hunts together, the play between herself and Veles.

It wasn't.

For a time, it seemed like a trick. A challenge, another clever play by Veles - trying to needle his brother, no doubt, by flirting with his wife. For Devana, she enjoyed spending time enough with him not to object, instead challenging in return. Playing his game, enjoying that she could see that she was getting to him in return even as she knew she was falling. Devana had little loyalty to a husband of the skies, one who won her in name only. A good enough man, but not one she was in love with - perhaps it made sense, instead, to fall in love with the god whose forests she shared, whose beasts she hunted. But they were still constrained to secrecy. To shapechanging, to pretending to be mortals, to taking advantage of the night, of the moonlight that would hide what her mistress bade. Sneaking about in shadow, though, was never a meant to be a lasting arrangement. It robbed them of a real chance, robbed Perun of a wife who might love him. And Devana meant to end the secrecy, to end the empty marriage - to free herself and Perun of the hollowness binding. That much of the conversation was amiable enough. The mention of Veles, however, did not.

Presuming it was another of his brother's tricks, Perun went to confront Veles before Devana could find them and stop it from happening - and in their fight, the storm was born. Thunder and lightning and destruction the likes of which none of the gods had seen before. And Devana was far too late to stop the judgment  - to do anything but feel its consequences, as the constant presence of Veles was torn away. The emptiness burned in her chest, made her feel sick with the hollowness, the lack of him in their forests.

To her, it was no choice at all. To stay in the immortal plane, an eternal watcher, feeling only the hollow of where Veles should be while she watched him just beyond the mortal world, it all held no appeal. And she followed, made the choice that was no choice at all, and stepped into the mortal plane.

The pain of omnipotence being stripped away was almost more than she could bear. Things felt quiet, empty, in the forests. No connection to those walking through it, to the hunters surely stalking the wood, to predator or prey or roots or anything. It was only a murmur, drowned out by the sheer distance, the silence, that threatened to overwhelm. For a time, all Devana could do was curl into a ball and try not to scream just to hear something. Anything.

Eventually, a changeling intervened, introducing herself as Morgaine le Fey, and took Devana under her wing to relearn the world as a fallen goddess, learning in the court of King Arthur himself. Despite repeated brushes against a clergy that believed in a vicious, single god, Devana managed to keep surviving time and time again as the world marched on. She's been in and out of history for centuries now, tending towards associations with the gentry of multiple cultures now while trying to keep an eye and ear out for the gods she came to the mortal plane looking for.

Family: None.   Sexuality and Relationship Status: Attached, but polyamorous. She's not opposed to having other people along for a night or an hour or two, but Veles is her partner. And she will not allow something to come between that ever again. Other Ties: None yet. Wanted Connections: Perun, otherwise she's new to Nashville - though immortal  or long lived beings might find her awfully familiar. Can't have lived this long without being seen here and there, and Devana hasn't been too shy or prone to hiding. Likes: Human superstitions, urban legends, the internet, travelling, Netflix, hunting, advances in weaponry (modern compound bows, crossbows, and so on are endlessly fascinating and fun to her) Dislikes:  Poachers and poaching, careless hunting, fanaticism, dial-up internet Hobbies: Drawing, horseback riding, camping, travelling, magic Skills: Tracking, hunting, stealth, woodcraft, various survival skills and techniques Medical Conditions: None, perk of being a goddess. Current Financial Status: Well off, plenty of money from the various previous lives she's lived are accessible to her, if she wanted. Currently, she's between jobs and came to Nashville to look for a job, but can sustain herself through several lifetimes if she truly wished. To Devana, a job is mostly to ensure she's not bored. Places: None yet, beyond some ruins of her ancient shrines in Europe and Russia. Pets: None, but has a high affinity for horses especially

Known Magic: Elemental magic is her strongest, but Devana has dabbled here and there in magic. She's learned and forgotten more spells than most will ever know, but she's been around for long enough that her magic tends to be as wild as she is. Magical Items: She can summon her bow to her at any time, given a bit of time. Her bow is part of her powers and she will not run out of arrows so long as she needs them. If anyone were to take it from her or knock it from her hands, it would melt away into nothingness, as no other can use it.

Rumors: Most have forgotten her, as a goddess - published only in a book or two, widely disregarded and ignored. Choosing to leave the pantheon and being cast into time had its consequences, especially as she hadn’t done anything quite so memorable as create the storms themselves before leaving. 

Instead, she only comes up as a traveler. Traversing history and often coming up as a reoccurring face in several royal courts, salons, and so on. That or the rumors of a wild woman, a dark sorceress who lurks and exists in the forest as a fairy might - who had been granted the title of “le fey” and haunted history as only Morgaine might. Vengeful to those who wrong her or are careless with nature itself. Centuries have given Devana many difference faces and masks to wear, and she wears many of them well. 

Writing Sample:

It was easier, in dreams. A mix of memory and fantasy, hearing both of their laughter peeling out (that never happened, not so free - too easy to be heard, to be caught, even in their own elements) and running through the forests. Omnipotence meant that every sharp branch, every tree root, every rock was known and easily avoided. No shoes on her feet as they ran, faster here on human feet than her mare just as she could hear him giving chase on two legs instead of four. The chase was half the fun, but she wanted to be caught. To feel his arms around her, both of them tumbling to the ground and laughter turning breathless. Seeing his smile above her, touching and being touched (they had to be so careful, where was Perun, where was the fear? why wasn't she cautious, why wasn't there that tension?).

Devana slowed, waiting for the impact, the feel of him tackling her and the laughter. She couldn't hear him behind her anymore, couldn't tell where he had gone. The forest felt empty, his lack of presence just as striking, if not more so. It hurt, that ache deep in her chest, the fact she couldn't feel him. A missing piece in her mind and she stumbled, fell onto the forest floor. She'd lost it, the understanding of where she was - of what this world had become. Didn't recognize the rocks, the branches, the roots she'd fallen on. This was not her world - no longer her world, and it felt cold. Familiar and alien, as though the structure of her world had been knocked out from under her.

Lighting cracked across the sky, thunder giving chase and this time she had to interrupt, she had to stop them, stop this, this wasn't worth it she wasn't worth it she wasn't worth losing them both and being adrift in a sea of mortals and their Christian god - there was another crack, another crash of light and sound and Devana screamed at it in challenge, screamed at them.  

The scream was still raw and aching in her throat when she awoke, the storm starting to taper off into a lighter rain that pattered against the tent. She sighed, glad that she had decided to camp out instead of going to a hotel - it was always awkward to try and explain why she'd be screaming a 'mythological' god's name because of a dream.  

She saw him still, sometimes. In flashes, in glimpses. The familiar face in a crowd, the sound of his voice somewhere close by, a smile that is just enough like his that her memory fills in the gap. She missed him so much that it was an ache, constant and distracting. Something her mind tried to lessen by seeing bits of him everywhere. Which, of course, only made her miss him all the more when it turned out to not be him. Mortals were fragile, fleeting, a poor ghost of a substitute for someone like him.

His feast days had become far more quiet without his presence, his absence more heavy than the arrowhead she kept around her neck, that weighed on her. She held it absently as she tried to convince herself to wake up, to try getting up. Had to make an offering and a wish on his feast day, after all. Pay tribute. Devana smirked to herself, finally convincing herself to shuffle around the tent for clothes and boots to get up and out.

Sentimental, certainly, to be camped beneath a willow tree but every little bit counted if you asked her - perhaps, through all the tributes, he would somehow feel her too. She'd give anything to feel him, so why not put the effort in reverse? Maybe it could be a comfort.