#or they won't. because they are extremely vague and have taught me little to nothing thus far

[ratcandy]

youknow i am off the deep end when I start getting up and pacing my dorm while arguing to myself out loud about lore

[youremypeople]

Cordelia

(picrew by @lullindo)

“We become by ceasing to be”

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Album: Wildlife — La Dispute

(references throughout, denoted by 🍄)

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Major Arcana: Death

(art by Leonardo Mazzoli)

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Messy dark auburn hair that is roughly cut to medium length, worn loose

Sullen hazel-green eyes

Freckled tan skin

No piercings or tattoos yet

Has a worn switchblade-style dagger kept in a pocket on her right hip

Has a druidic totem made from a crow’s skull with a cracked hole in the top, worn around her neck

Wears a leather backpack and a leather bracelet

Wears a simple earth tone outfit of dark green pants, beige shirt, and leather jacket — barefoot

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Race: Halfling

Gender: Vaguely nonbinary (AFAB)

Pronouns: Any (typically she/her by default)

Sexuality: Lesbian

Age: Twenty-two

Height: Three feet

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:: The Circle ::

An extremely reclusive halfling druid circle that centers above and around a single ancient fungus that spreads throughout a great canopy forest. The main body of the organism — the mycelium — grows and spreads underground at root depth, just out of sight. Every autumn, it blooms bioluminescent mushrooms on the surface, and its glowing spores are spread on the wind.

Their ideology and practices are based on fungal life. There is beauty in decay. Life and death are parts of a cycle, with one leading to the other and then back again. Death isn’t the end of life, but instead a change of state that sees life shift into a new form. To best emulate this ideal, their way of life is imitative of the creeping pace and aimless entropy of fungal life.

Their way of life is extremely isolated — not just from the outside world, but from each other. Each individual is to live their life like a spore floating on the wind, like an appendage of the whole. Children have no special relationship to their biological parents, often not even knowing who their parents are. Once babies have been weaned, they are raised by other members of the circle.

Fungal psychedelics are an important part of the circle’s connection to the land. A rite of passage for a young druid is for them to eat a particular mushroom alone in the forest at dusk on the first night of the autumn blooming of their thirteenth year.

Members are raised to live alone, wandering and tending to the forest of the fungus. When members’ paths meet — usually by happenstance — they silently exchange simple information about any unusual happenings or needs of the land, and then go on their way. Outsiders are watched silently, and not interacted with unless they pose a threat to the land.

Individualism and sentimental attachments are forbidden, as death is not to be mourned. The only importance is that the cycle continues.

:: Backstory & Relationships ::

Cordelia tried her best to live according to the way of the circle, but always struggled with it. From an early age, she secretly kept journals that she filled with sketches, lyrics, thoughts, and dreams.

🍄 One: a Departure

i used to never think of death… i used to feel like everything was perfectly in order, a normal life, but i guess then came a departure.

🍄 Two: Harder Harmonies

there's a melody in everything

i'm trying to find a harmony

but nothing seems to work

nothing seems to fit

🍄 Five: a Letter

i've always struggled at the root of the problem. has it been absence or my constant lack of defense? i've never spent a lot on finding a remedy. i guess i figured that it hurt for a reason. i guess that's why i've always turned to writing it down.

🍄 Thirteen: all our bruised bodies and the whole heart shrinks

do you think if the heart keeps on shrinking, one day there will be no heart at all? and how long does it take? am i better off just bursting or breaking? because i don't see my heart getting strong.

Father Figure — “Jones”

A stoic middle-aged man of few words, Jones followed the circle’s tenets almost completely. He raised Cordelia and taught her most of what she knows of druidism and life in general. His one personal indulgence outside of the code was the lute, a very undruidic instrument. He kept it secret from everyone except — eventually — Cordelia, and secretly taught her to play.

The winter when Cordelia was fifteen, Jones was killed by outsiders. Cordelia finds his body, and then — unable to emotionally process the loss — tracks down and murders his killers with his dagger. Feeling no better, she returns to Jones’ hut. She takes his lute, and hides it away for herself, not to play it again for years.

The pain of Jones’ death continues to stick with Cordelia, contributing to her doubt and resentment of some of the circle’s tenets.

🍄 Five: a Letter

sometimes things happen and you can't do anything. plus, i'm the only one who deals with it anyway.

i know that i should be finding another way. i know that i should be seeking a substitute. but just forgetting never really made sense to me. so i haven't been.

do i feel embarrassed about it? i think you know the answer to that. i think you'd probably feel a little bit embarrassed for me, wouldn't you?

i know i should've moved on ages ago, been happy already, but it's never been that easy for me. or maybe it was me that made it so hard.

maybe i never tried hard enough, and it is my fault.

First Lover — “Dianthi”

Cordelia had met Dianthi — another member of the circle — a handful of times in their childhood. Dianthi is a skilled tanner and leathercrafter about Cordelia's age.

When Cordelia was hiding her feelings of mourning for Jones, Dianthi was one of the few who noticed how much it hurt, and she felt for her, but kept her distance.

Slowly, Cordelia and Dianthi started to become interested in each other. The two girls secretly went out of their way to encounter each other more often, but wouldn’t admit to themselves what their feelings were.

The summer when Cordelia was nineteen, they began to secretly spend time together, gradually becoming emotionally and romantically close over the course of two years.

🍄 Seven: The Most Beautiful Bitter Fruit

it's like medicine, it's self-discovery. all the secrets i keep, why are they secrets? it's only temporary, that fleeting feeling of warmth, just a flash before the line gets blurry between a longing for more than what the body wants now and what the body wants now more than anything.

was it integrity that kept my hands to myself or just the thought of getting too far ahead of you? was it that i got too tired of the consequence? or was i just scared? i only know i never wanted to get left behind.

i want to feel it out. i want to know how it works. i want to know if it was worth it to worry — about the ghosts i feared would haunt the memory, about the damage that i'm sure the fear has done to me now.

After struggling with it for a long time, Cordelia asks Dianthi a question which has been eating away at her:

Cordelia shared parts of her journals and played the lute and sang for Dianthi. Dianthi crafted gifts for Cordelia: a backpack, a bracelet, a jacket, a waterskin.

C: “Dianthi… Would– would you care if I died?” (Defying core tenets of circle ideology)

D: “…W–what? Why ask that?” (In truth, Dianthi would care, but she’s too ashamed and unprepared to realize or admit it)

C: “…Would you?”

When Dianthi fails to answer, Cordelia isolates herself from Dianthi.

Soon after, Cordelia exiles herself from the circle, taking her few belongings with her, except for Jones’ lute, which is left to decay in the forest.

🍄 Six: Safer in the Forest / Love Song for Poor Michigan

last snowfall left splinters, and some winters never end, neither wane nor wear. and sunshine is like lovers, and some summers just pretend, only warm the air.

i'm tired of the feeling here, it's too near to death.

i've been thinking of exile. i've been thinking hit the highway and head up north. i've been thinking cross the bridge and don't turn back. the only warmth is a warmth alone.

i need to leave. i can't marry this place. i won't bury the past, i just need a change of scenery. i will hold these old trees sweetly in my head

Like Her.

🍄 Fourteen: You and I in Unison

what will i find? some sacred thing to help me handle the tragedy? or did i once– did i have it and lose it?

no one should ever have to walk through the fire alone. no one should ever have to brave that storm. no, everybody needs someone or something.