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moa-broke-me · 7 months

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PJO characters as gods:

So there was a post going around about the idea of PJO characters being treated as gods in a thousand years or so, and I like the idea, but some of the godly placements felt a little off to me LOL, so I decided to make my own pantheon. (not sure how to order these, lol)

Percy: God of the ocean and all its creatures, of water in general, hurricanes, earthquakes, cities, family, and horses. Titles: The savior of Olympus, the good son, the loyal husband, retriever of the bolt, king of the gods. Sacred items: Stuffed animals, particularly bears (panda pillow pet), any item colored blue, but especially food, like candy or cookies, bull horns, and pens. Sacred animals: All marine life, the black pegasus, the black dog, and the ophiotaurus.

Annabeth: Goddess of war, strategy, intelligence, wisdom, practical knowledge, civilization and the building of houses, the study of history, and the mind. Titles: The general, the architect, favored child of Athena, queen of the gods. Sacred items: Knives, rings, clay beads, coral, silver, and popcorn. Sacred animal: The owl.

Clarisse: Goddess of war, revenge, anger fueled by love, triage and midwifery. Titles: The eager soldier, slayer of the drakon, retriever of the golden fleece. Sacred items: Spears and weapons in general, wool/fleece, and chariots. Sacred animal: The boar. Often depicted bloodstained, charging into battle without armor.

Frank: God of war, animals, change, the transition from boyhood to manhood, of the duality between strength and gentleness. Titles: The reluctant soldier, the changeling lord, the young praetor. Sacred items: Bows and arrows, playing cards (mythomagic), charred wood, and a silver medallion on a red string (the canadian sacrifice medal) Sacred animals: The bear and the bee, both the most common depictions of him as an animal.

Reyna: Goddess of war, patriotism, fidelity, independence, leadership, strength, sorority, and resilience. Titles: The shield, the politician, guardian of Athena (bc the athena parthenos). Sacred items: Cloaks, gold, silver, and oat cakes (oatmeal cream pies). Sacred animal: The hound. Often depicted either shielding a little boy with her cloak or braiding hair with her older sister.

Hazel: Goddess of jewels, caves, broken curses, witchcraft and the mist, art, death and escape thereof. Titles: The princess of the underworld, the queen of magick, the illusionist, the dead girl who rose again. Sacred items: Schist (because... obviously), pencils and oil pastels, gold, shrimp stew (because gumbo), Tarot cards, and caramel candy. Sacred animals: The horse, the stoat, and the black cat. Often depicted either drawing or riding horseback, usually with her older brother, but sometimes alone or accompanied by her husband or one of her friends.

Nico: God of darkness and shadows, death, decay, loss, longing, love of all kinds, language, diplomacy and forgiveness, insomniacs, immigrants and orphans, mourners and outcasts, and sewing. Titles: The bereaved, king of the underworld, the ghost king, the romantic, deliverer of Athena (again, the statue, not the actual goddess). Sacred items: Playing cards (mythomagic), soft suede leather, fried bits of chicken (mcnuggets), sewing supplies, oat cakes (again, oatmeal cream pies), Posca (not the pen; the drink. it's like an ancient roman gatorade), pomegranates, anything colored green or black, and memento mori rings. Sacred animals: The bat, cerberus, unicorns (because unicorn draught), all stray animals, and any animals or insects that feed on carrion. Commonly depicted either weeping or accompanying his little sister or husband. (@yonemurishiroku you're gonna love this one)

Bianca: Minor goddess of death, darkness, rebirth and reincarnation, sisterhood, and the hunt. Titles: The broken promise, thief of the forge, slayer of Talos. Sacred items: a carved statuette of her father, and a bow and arrow. Sacred animals: None. Most often depicted climbing onto the back of Talos, or comforting/bickering with her little brother.

Will: God of medicine, light, summer, and the sun. Title: The healer, the sun. Sacred items: Candy bars, medical equipment, lamps, summer fruits, and anything colored yellow. Sacred animal: The cat.

Thalia: Goddess of lightning and storms, maidenhood, the moon, the night sky, wilderness and the hunt. Titles: Queen of the skies, the hunter, guardian of sanctuary. Sacred items: Leather, golden fleece, the severed heads of dolls (bc of the 'barbie is dead tshirt), and pine trees. Sacred animal: The black eagle. Commonly depicted dressed in black and silver, behind a shield emblazoned with a terrifying face.

Jason: God of clear skies and wind, daylight, law, leadership and fatherhood, heroic sacrifice, child soldiers and the military. Titles: Prince of the skies, the retired praetor, the golden boy. Sacred items: Eyeglasses, dense chocolate cakes (brownies), peaches, swords, silver wire (staples), bricks, and feathers. Sacred animal: The wolf. Often depicted with a spear lodged in his back.

Piper: Goddess of love, the heart, beauty in all its forms, charisma, music, wealth, and fame. Titles: Beauty queen, the snake charmer, the dove, the silver tongue. Sacred items: Knives, jewelry, anything colored in pink or light purple. Sacred animals: The dove.

Silena: Minor goddess of love, specifically first love, regret, noble sacrifice, grieving widows, and disguise. Titles: The young lover, the spy, the bleeding heart. Sacred item: Armor. Sacred animal: None. Often depicted wearing armor while lying on her back, bleeding.

Drew: Minor goddess of beauty and adolescence. Title: The betrayed. Sacred items: Seashells, seafoam, cosmetics, perfume, and really anything with a strong, pleasant scent, like herbs, flowers, or incense. Sacred animals: None. (side note, I made up most of this just because canon gave us Literally Nothing)

Leo: God of fire and the forge, machines, invention, humor, cookery, and runaway children. Titles: The engineer, the orphan, builder of the Argo, the forge, the devil, and the trickster. Sacred items: Tools, oil, cinnamon, cooking utensils, and bronze. Sacred animal: The dragon.

Charles: Minor god of the forge, blacksmithery, and fallen soldiers. Title: Courage of the gods, the young lover. Sacred items: Canned fruit, promise rings, and green fire. Sacred animals: None.

Tyson: Minor god of blacksmiths and the ocean, specifically underwater volcanoes. Titles: General of the Cyclopes, the rising mountain, brother of Percy. Sacred items: Peanuts (because peanut butter), shields, watches and clocks (because of that watch that becomes a shield that he made for Percy), ships, and canons. Sacred animals: None.

Grover: God of animals, nature, wilderness, music, empathy and emotional sensitivity, and the young. Titles; The protector, the searcher. Sacred items: Pan flutes, walking sticks (those crutches he used to blend in), flowers, cheese (bc of the enchiladas), apples, and any kind of plant life. Sacred animal: The goat. Often depicted as half-goat-half-human, sometimes wearing a wedding dress.

Rachel: Goddess of wealth, youth, rebellion, nature, art, hedonism and impulse, and prophecy. Sacred items: Hairbrushes, art, and art supplies. Sacred animal: The yellow bellied armadillo.

Sally: Goddess of the hearth, motherhood, writing and literature, women, and survivors of abuse. Titles: The sculptor, the author, the victor, the good mother, queen among women. Sacred items: food, especially the blue kind, and books. Sacred animal: The snake. Often depicted either holding a little boy behind her or holding up the head of medusa.

If there's any character you want me to do next, please tell me!

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peachesyeo · 3 months

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obsession ── hunter foreign part two

💌 parings: king!hunter x demigod!fem!reader 💌 genre: yandere, oneshot 💌 contains: monitoring, intended pregnancy, petnames (love), mentions of greek mythology. lowercase intended. 💌 word count: 0.7k words.

:̗̀➛ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 + 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 :̗̀➛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? :̗̀➛ 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞? :̗̀➛ 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭? (for all works)

to the previous part?

the son of hades sat on his throne, playing with the crystal pendant in his hand. he was relaxed, one of his legs crossed over the other, and he listened to the reports from the guard.

"...and her majesty had expressed the want to take a stroll in the garden. her majesty still did not have much appetite today, merely consuming half a bowl of soup." the guard looked up from his parchment, and the young tyrant frowned.

"half a bowl, you say?" the king repeated, his head tilted ever so slightly. "continue."

it has became a routine for hunter. after his court, he would sit down and listen to what you have done for the day. how many times you have frowned. what have you looked at. the guard gave him a quick glance, before continuing.

"that's it, your majesty." the guard bowed, and hunter dismissed him immediately. he got up from his throne, eager to return to his resting chambers where you are. while he left the bed earlier, he could see the stains of tears etched on your face.

you must be crying in the night.

hunter didn't think of the reason. a part of him knows that you were weeping because of him, but at least you were weeping, because of him.

he didn't bother to find out why too. he'll just have to make you feel better.

he entered the chamber to see you laying on the bed, evidently sleeping. he gently made his way to you, sitting on the side of the bed. his fingers reached to your face, removing any strands of hair that was covering it.

hunter had asked his father for a way to bound you to him. he can't lose you, not when you were loved by so many. the marriage between you and him was so grand that many watched, and so many cursed. they were all very jealous of him, because he was the one who married the saintness.

forcefully.

hunter killed those who opposed to it.

and gradually, no one did.

"mmh..." you frowned, moving around in your sleep. hunter chuckled, his eyes falling into your rounding belly as you flipped over.

his seed inside of you, is enough to bound you to him.

hades did offer a pomegranate though. hunter knew that you and him remind his father of him and persephone. someone of darkness, being together with someone so bright...

he remembered the day he first met you. you were still a young healer, a gifted young healer. he was at a camp for refugees, and you treated his wounds.

he was going to die, but you saved him.

you are his light.

meanwhile, you were awake. even in your state of deep sleep, you could feel that piercing stare, coming from hunter. you kept your eyes closed and your breathing steady, not wanting to see him.

it has been a few months since he married you. you become the queen of his kingdom, which you didn't like at all. you preferred to stay at the temple, healing those who need it.

you hate him.

but you cannot hate this child that lies inside of you.

every time you disobeyed him, hunter had threatened to kill one attendant you bring from your kingdom. so for the sake of your people and your child...

you tried sending prayers to your father and to your grandmother. but alas, hades did kill your father once because he had resurrected the dead, and for some reason, you couldn't feel the connection between asclepius and demeter anymore.

"love, i know you're awake." his voice was deep and rich, but you kept your eyes closed. "you have to eat something, love. for the sake of your baby."

you detest him so much, but you know hunter is right.

for the sake of the baby, not him. for the sake of your own flesh and blood.

you opened your eyes. he smiled at you, and you looked anywhere in the room but him. you feel his palm slide down to your lower back, gently supporting you as you sit up. "that's a good girl."

his good girl.

➳ pernament taglist: @wonwooz1 @kwanienies @yeodeulz @enhacracy @leyittara @lonewolfjinji @sousydive @joshuahongnumbers @devilzliaison

#xikers #xikers fanfic #xikers oneshot #yandere xikers #hunter #yandere hunter #xikers hunter #hunter x reader #☁️by k #xikers imagines #xikers drabbles #xikers x reader #kpop #yandere kpop

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stydiaandthejeep · 9 months

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The first time Carmy cooks for her, Sydney weeps a bit.

* a The Bear headcanon about showing love through food *

It's three months after the Bear opened, one late night while they were huddled up in Carmy's tiny ass kitchen, tangerines and pomegranate seeds spilled on the counters, a decimated basil plant lying next to three type of summer tortellini. The thought of ricotta, which she normally adores, makes her nauseous now and she thinks she is going mad - the restaurant was good, but she wanted great, she needed to elevate it to tremendous, and all her ideas were falling flat.

The two courses they already had were ones Carmy had come up with, and she felt disappointing, and tired, and her hands were stained purple from beetroot. She was slumped over the couch, head resting in her hands, spiraling from the lack of sleep and the doom thumping in her chest, that anxiety permanently tethering on the edge of her skin. There was a strange, gnawing sensation too, tying knots in her stomach.

She hadn't realised that the background sounds coming from the kitchen had halted, not even when the sound of his steps stopped in front of her. A warm hand touched her shoulder,gently, a spike of adrenaline jolting her back.

' Syd. What's up?'

His tone is not prying, but his blue eyes betray the worry in it. It's sweet, she thinks, that he cares enough to ask. She's still getting used to him caring about her, beyond the interest of the restaurant.

She answers with the first thing that comes to her, the sensation most immediate to her. ' I think I'm- hungry?'

As soon as she reluctantly names it, her stomach lets out a loud grumble, and she grows red with embarrassment. She hadn't eaten since breakfast, nothing but little tastes of whatever they were cooking, had skiped lunch with her dad - had barely drank water. Carmy smiles, soft and tired too, bags heavy under his eyes.

' Ah. I got you, chef.'

Sydney doesn't get the chance to protest before he walks back into the kitchen and starts moving again, relaxed and natural and so fucking domestic. She can't bear to watch it for too long, the thought of him cooking for her, not to test a recipe or simply making family - but just because she was hungry, it feels like a hand reaching into her chest and wringing it dry. It feels too close to what she knew love to be.

Instead she closed her eyes, drifting away with the familiar sounds of him cooking, trying to clear her head of citrus pasta, of failures and what ifs. She was awakened by Carmy softly calling her name, nudging her hand with the end of a fork, the other hand holding a plate for her to take. The smell makes her mouth water, and her face immediately breaks into a wide, sleepy grin when she sees a perfectly cooked omlette, potato chips crumbled over the top of it. Sydney pulled her legs under her to let him sit next to her on the couch, and then immediately dug the fork into it, letting a satisfied sound and closing her eyes at the first taste. Carmy watched her with eager eyes that she avoided.

'Good?'

She nods, keeping her eyes down and fixed on the plate, too afraid that he'd see that tears had pooled into them now. No one had cooked for her before, no one that wasn't her dad or her grandma. Not like this - not when she needed it most, not in such an intimate way, like they had put their whole being into it. She feels ridiculous for crying at an omlette. She wants to ask him what it all means. When she looks up, his eyes shift to worry, a hand coming to rest naturally on hers.

' Hey, hey. What's wrong? Did I mess up or-?'

Sydney shakes her head, digging her fork into the food and then taking another bite, cheeks now wet with spilling tears.

' No, this is fucking fire, I just. No one's ever cooked for me like '

She means to say not like this, not like you, but she swallows that too, holds his gaze while his hand gently squeezes her forearm. He nods, eyes full of affection, always getting her without words being needed, always in sync with her.

'Thanks, Carm.'

He clears his throat, fumbles when he speaks out ' It was the best part of my day. Cooking for you, I mean.'

His shy smile hits her in the middle of her chest, so she focuses on clearing her plate, and tries not to wonder what it all means. The warmth of his hand on hers, the food that tasted like affection. The longing blue eyes. Carmy wordlessly offers to take her plate, goes to get up before stopping himself.

'You need to eat too, Syd. Next time you're hungry, just tell me. I'll take care of you.'

She nods,biting her lip, and he dissapears into the kitchen, before he can see her head spinning, before she can say that she'd do the same for him, always, before she can grab him and make him spell it out. In the quiet of the night, the sound rings around her head over and over. I'll take care of you.

#sydcarmy #carmy x sydney #the bear #carmy berzatto #sydney adamu #chefs kiss

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sentient-stove · 8 months

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“Listen, kid.” Hedge’s eyes flashed to look over Jason’s shoulder before he was focused back on their conversation. “I know about as much as you do. Never seen ya in my life.”

Jason felt a weight dip from his shoulders, somehow relieved. That was good, he wasn’t crazy and suddenly amnesiac on his best friends.

And apparently girlfriend of Piper was telling the truth. It’d definitely suck to tell her they weren’t actually dating, but he had bigger problems.

“I’m not here to hurt anyone.”

“I know kid.” Hedge clapped a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently, so much the opposite of the yelling coach Jason had been exposed to. “I know. You just let me do my job, I already contacted someone to pick up you two demigods so I can help your friend.”

Two demigods? But there were the three of them? He must’ve looked confused enough, because the man sighed and let go.

“Leo’s a dryad. They have to stay close to the plant they’re from or they get lethargic, confused. Basically start to go into a torpor the further they get.”

“Leo’s,, Leo though.” Jason doesn’t know how he understands what Hedge means, but the other teen didn’t seem like a dryad. Weren’t dryads like, super serious? And all nature-y, obsessed with leaves and whatnot?

“Nah, he smells like one, and you see his ears? Pointed. Kid’s a dryad, probably protecting Piper cause he took interest. The older ones tend to get like that, find some demigod to latch to and adopt into a pseudo family.”

#fanfic #leo valdez #heroes of olympus #hoo #pjo #jason grace #piper mclean #gleeson hedge #the pomegranates weep #hedge: that’s a dryad #jason: idk he’s kinda cute #jason/piper/leo

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kissesfrmvenus · 1 month

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with pomegranate stained lips,

i feast onto temptation

my head gets wrapped around

the so persuasive, enthralling whispers

in my ears by serpents and i suddenly feel sick and dizzy with a false sense of femininity

i make such a foolish attempt to scream, yet the virgin mary looks at me with such contempt, stuffing my mouth with bibles and dead lilies

women hold hands and dance in a circle in a field of dead white roses chanting and singing hymns with bloody feet

im tied to the cross, being stripped raw of any sense of identity i have left

crows feast onto what was once left

i wail, i weep, i whimper

i am now holy

#poetry #poem #poet #creative writing #purity culture #original poem #writers and poets #purity #religion #religious trauma

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sillytriumphdragon · 4 months

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“Don't be ashamed to weep; 'tis right to grieve. Tears are only water, and flowers, trees, and fruit cannot grow without water. But there must be sunlight also. A wounded heart will heal in time, and when it does, the memory and love of our lost ones is sealed inside to comfort us.”

Brian Jacques - Taggerung, 2001.

Felice Casorati - Dreaming of Pomegranates, 1913.

#brian jacques #art #literature #books and reading #life quotes #lit #light academia #romantic academia #literary quotes #classical literature #classic books #poems and quotes #currently reading

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muzzleroars · 11 months

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Adding on to the Unicorn Lore: There are a set of tapestries called 'The Hunt of the Unicorn' which are very interesting as they depict a unicorn hunt including the capture and killing of the unicorn but ends on a tapestry where the unicorn is revived but captured in a fenced enclosure with a pomegranate tree. And we know the greek mythological use of pomegranates

By the way, when Gabriel falls, is he able to use the elevators to get to the other layers of Hell?

oohhhhh thank you for reminding me of these pieces because i'm formulating ideas and connections over this........how the unicorn is initially seen purifying the water and the hunting dogs drink of it, how it's then attacked, desperate to defend itself until it is brought back dead, how it is finally seen revived and resting under a pomegranate tree. like. the idea of its death and rebirth, and it's suspected if these are indeed all from the same series, the unicorn is likely to have been symbolically revived by love. its blood weeps the seeds of the pomegranate, seen as the symbol of love, a symbol, like you mention, of persephone remaining in the underworld, and in some traditions, the forbidden fruit in the garden of eden. SO you could say i'm enjoying the parallels fallen gabe's story has to these tapestries (as well as the stark contrasts...like how the unicorn was likely tamed by a virgin and gabriel. WELL.)

and yes he is! he has pretty similar access to hell now as v1 does - the terminals and hell itself kind of determine where he can go, but as he's seen as an interesting element to the game, he's allowed to move fairly freely. i like to think this is all very new to him though, and he's DEFINITELY offended the first time the doors close all around him with massive red x's on them. like. what the FUCK is this!!!!!!

#DO THEY KNOW WHO HE IS (WAS)#but omg thank you for more unicorn lore parallels #the tail is feeling more and more integral to his design....#it was meant to be!!!#cake answers #fallen gabriel #rise and fall au

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istumpysk · 1 year

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Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Jon VII (Chapter 35)

"We'll want an escort. Ten rangers, armed with dragonglass. I want them ready to leave within the hour."

"Aye, m'lord. And to command?"

"That would be me."

Edd's mouth turned down even more than usual. "Some might think it better if the lord commander stayed safe and warm south of the Wall. Not that I'd say such myself, but some might."

Jon smiled. "Some had best not say so in my presence."

The trappings of power.

Personally I don't have a problem with Jon escorting new recruits beyond the Wall. I think the Lord Commander should be present when all men take their vows.

+.+.+

The wind was gusting, cold as the breath of the ice dragon in the tales Old Nan had told when Jon was a boy.

Everyone laugh at Ned's suffering.

+.+.+

Glass, Jon mused, might be of use here. Castle Black needs its own glass gardens, like the ones at Winterfell. We could grow vegetables even in the deep of winter.

You could plant roses!

"No. It was always warm, even when it snowed. Water from the hot springs is piped through the walls to warm them, and inside the glass gardens it was always like the hottest day of summer." She stood, towering over the great white castle. "I can't think how to do the glass roof over the gardens." - Sansa VII, ASOS

+.+.+

The best glass came from Myr, but a good clear pane was worth its weight in spice, and green and yellow glass would not work as well. What we need is gold. With enough coin, we could buy 'prentice glassblowers and glaziers in Myr, bring them north, offer them their freedom for teaching their art to some of our recruits. That would be the way to go about it. If we had the gold. Which we do not.

I can't tell if this is more than Iron Bank foreshadowing.

+.+.+

Word spread fast at Castle Black. Edd was still saddling the grey when Bowen Marsh stomped across the yard to confront Jon at the stables. "My lord, I wish you would reconsider. The new men can take their vows in the sept as easily."

Update: pomegranate still unhappy.

+.+.+

"The Weeping Man may still be out there, watching."

"The grove is no more than two hours' ride, even with the snow. We should be back by midnight."

George R. R. Martin would like me to believe there isn't a single weirwood south of the Wall within two hours. Okay, sure.

+.+.+

The others were good men too. Good men in a fight, at least, and loyal to their brothers. Jon could not speak for what they might have been before they reached the Wall, but he did not doubt that most had pasts as black as their cloaks. Up here, they were the sort of men he wanted at his back. Their hoods were raised against the biting wind, and some had scarves wrapped about their faces, hiding their features. Jon knew them, though. Every name was graven on his heart. They were his men, his brothers.

Big shift from AGOT Jon.

+.+.+

Leathers and Jax were older men, well past forty, sons of the haunted forest, with sons and grandsons of their own. They had been two of the sixty-three wildlings who had followed Jon Snow back to the Wall the day he made his appeal, so far the only two to decide they wanted a black cloak.

I only want to highlight Leathers, the new wildling recruit.

+.+.+

"Talk is there was some trouble at Harlot's Tower last night," the master-at-arms said.

"Hardin's Tower." Of the sixty-three who had come back with him from Mole's Town, nineteen had been women and girls. Jon had housed them in the same abandoned tower where he had once slept when he had been new to the Wall. Twelve were spearwives, more than capable of defending both themselves and the younger girls from the unwanted attentions of black brothers. It was some of the men they'd turned away who'd given Hardin's Tower its new, inflammatory name. Jon was not about to condone the mockery. "Three drunken fools mistook Hardin's for a brothel, that's all. They are in the ice cells now, contemplating their mistake."

[...]

Bowen Marsh had not been all wrong. Hardin's Tower was tinder waiting for a spark. "I mean to open three more castles," Jon said. "Deep Lake, Sable Hall, and the Long Barrow. All garrisoned with free folk, under the command of our own officers. The Long Barrow will be all women, aside from the commander and chief steward." There would be some mingling, he did not doubt, but the distances were great enough to make that difficult, at least.

"And what poor fool will get that choice command?"

"I am riding beside him."

The look of mingled horror and delight that passed across Iron Emmett's face was worth more than a sack of gold. "What have I done to make you hate me so, my lord?"

Jon laughed. "Have no fear, you won't be alone. I mean to give you Dolorous Edd as your second and your steward."

There goes Dolorous Edd and Iron Emmett, two good men.

Does anything ever happen with this tinder waiting to spark? I forget.

Edit: yes. lol.

+.+.+

Do not confuse the Thenns with free folk. Magnar means lord in the Old Tongue, I am told, but Styr was closer to a god to his people, and his son is cut from the same skin. I do not require men to kneel, but they do need to obey.

Sounds like something a King Jon Stark might say.

+.+.+

Jon smelled Tom Barleycorn before he saw him. Or was it Ghost who smelled him? Of late, Jon Snow sometimes felt as if he and the direwolf were one, even awake. The great white wolf appeared first, shaking off the snow.

Stop.

+.+.+

A few moments later Tom was there. "Wildlings," he told Jon, softly. "In the grove."

[...]

Jon was not of a mind to fall back to the Wall, however. If the wildlings are still alive, it may be we can bring them in. And if they are dead, well … a corpse or two could be of use.

Dot, dot, dot.

I bet a corpse or two could be of use.

+.+.+

Ahead he glimpsed a pale white trunk that could only be a weirwood, crowned with a head of dark red leaves.

King Bran or Queen Sansa foreshadowing. Tree boy had the previous chapter, while Sansa always gets the weirwood treatment. I'll let you decide.

Will they lay Sansa down naked beneath the Iron Throne after they have killed her? Will her skin seem as white, her blood as red? - Catelyn III, ASOS

Soldier pines were everywhere, drawn up in solemn ranks. In their midst was a pale stranger; a slender young weirwood with a trunk as white as a cloistered maid. Dark red leaves sprouted from its reaching branches. Beyond was the emptiness of sky and sea where the wall had collapsed . . . - Brienne IV, AFFC

Lysa's apartments opened over a small garden, a circle of dirt and grass planted with blue flowers and ringed on all sides by tall white towers. The builders had intended it as a godswood, but the Eyrie rested on the hard stone of the mountain, and no matter how much soil was hauled up from the Vale, they could not get a weirwood to take root here. - Catelyn VII, AGOT

Dawn, she thought. Another day. Another new day. It was the old days she hungered for. Prayed for. But who could she pray to? The garden had been meant for a godswood once, she knew, but the soil was too thin and stony for a weirwood to take root. A godswood without gods, as empty as me. - Sansa VII, ASOS

+.+.+

The weirwoods rose in a circle around the edges of the clearing. There were nine, all roughly of the same age and size. Each one had a face carved into it, and no two faces were alike. Some were smiling, some were screaming, some were shouting at him. In the deepening glow their eyes looked black, but in daylight they would be blood-red, Jon knew. Eyes like Ghost's.

Weirwoods always look like the lords of the castle. What do these faces represent? Humans that were sacrificed? Greenseers?

At the center of the grove an ancient weirwood brooded over a small pool where the waters were black and cold. "The heart tree," Ned called it. The weirwood's bark was white as bone, its leaves dark red, like a thousand bloodstained hands. A face had been carved in the trunk of the great tree, its features long and melancholy, the deep-cut eyes red with dried sap and strangely watchful. - Catelyn I, AGOT

They crossed the castle's godswood, where the heart tree had grown so huge and tangled that it had choked out all the oaks and elms and birch and sent its thick, pale limbs crashing through the walls and windows that looked down on it. Its roots were as thick around as a man's waist, its trunk so wide that the face carved into it looked fat and angry. - Davos IV, ADWD

+.+.+

The giant was the last to notice them. He had been asleep, curled up by the fire, but something woke him—the child's cry, the sound of snow crunching beneath black boots, a sudden indrawn breath. When he stirred it was as if a boulder had come to life. He heaved himself into a sitting position with a snort, pawing at his eyes with hands as big as hams to rub the sleep away … until he saw Iron Emmett, his sword shining in his hand. Roaring, he came leaping to his feet, and one of those huge hands closed around a maul and jerked it up.

Ghost showed his teeth in answer. Jon grabbed the wolf by the scruff of the neck. "We want no battle here." His men could bring the giant down, he knew, but not without cost. Once blood was shed, the wildlings would join the fray. Most or all would die here, and some of his own brothers too. "This is a holy place. Yield, and we—"

[...]

Jon Snow was about to reach for Longclaw when Leathers spoke, from the far side of the grove. His words sounded gruff and guttural, but Jon heard the music in it and recognized the Old Tongue. Leathers spoke for a long while. When he was done, the giant answered. It sounded like growling, interspersed with grunts, and Jon could not understand a word of it. But Leathers pointed at the trees and said something else, and the giant pointed at the trees, ground his teeth, and dropped his maul.

Good job Leathers! Looks like having wildlings in the Watch has a few benefits.

+.+.+

"It's done," said Leathers. "They want no fight."

"Well done. What did you tell him?"

"That they were our gods too. That we came to pray."

"We shall. Put away your steel, all of you. We will have no blood shed here tonight."

A bunch of greenseers just missed out on dinner.

+.+.+

"The Wall is only a few hours south of here," said Jon. "Why not seek shelter there? Others yielded. Even Mance."

The wildlings exchanged looks. Finally one said, "We heard stories. The crows burned all them that yielded."

"Even Mance hisself," the woman added.

Melisandre, Jon thought, you and your red god have much and more to answer for.

Burned after yielding. What show storyline does that remind you of?

Of course she's next.

+.+.+

"Night gathers, and now my watch begins," they said, as thousands had said before them. Satin's voice was sweet as song, Horse's hoarse and halting, Arron's a nervous squeak. "It shall not end until my death."

May those deaths be long in coming.

The bad news is it won't be. The good news is you can go home.

+.+.+

Jon Snow sank to one knee in the snow. Gods of my fathers, protect these men. And Arya too, my little sister, wherever she might be. I pray you, let Mance find her and bring her safe to me.

"I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children," the recruits promised, in voices that echoed back through years and centuries. "I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post."

Gods of the wood, grant me the strength to do the same, Jon Snow prayed silently. Give me the wisdom to know what must be done and the courage to do it.

This kind of reminds me of something.

Catelyn put her heels to her horse and rode off, leaving her son to ponder her words. It would not do to make him feel as if his mother were usurping his place. Did you teach him wisdom as well as valor, Ned? she wondered. Did you teach him how to kneel? The graveyards of the Seven Kingdoms were full of brave men who had never learned that lesson. - Catelyn IX, AGOT

+.+.+

They did the same with the two corpses, to the puzzlement of Iron Emmett. "They will only slow us, my lord," he said to Jon. "We should chop them up and burn them."

"No," said Jon. "Bring them. I have a use for them."

Later:

The corpses he consigned to the ice cells.

Jon's going to keep two corpses in the ice cells. Hmmm. That could be useful. . . having chained up dead things.

I'm starting to think this was bullshit!

And this was bullshit.

That's shocking.

I swear it seems like every Jon and Daenerys storyline isn't real!

+.+.+

Jon glimpsed the red wanderer above, watching them through the leafless branches of great trees as they made their way beneath. The Thief, the free folk called it. The best time to steal a woman was when the Thief was in the Moonmaid, Ygritte had always claimed. She never mentioned the best time to steal a giant. Or two dead men.

Watch me become an astrologist the second I get TWOW.

+.+.+

When Edd caught sight of the ragged band of wildlings, he pursed his lips and gave the giant a long look. "Might need some butter to slide that one through the tunnel, m'lord. Shall I send someone to the larder?"

"Oh, I think he'll fit. Unbuttered."

So he did … on hands and knees, crawling. A big boy, this one. Fourteen feet, at least. Even bigger than Mag the Mighty. Mag had died beneath this very ice, locked in mortal struggle with Donal Noye. A good man. The Watch has lost too many good men.

Stop.

There's a giant south of the Wall. Let's feed him Boltons.

+.+.+

Stannis. Jon cracked the hardened wax, flattened the roll of parchment, read. A maester's hand, but the king's words.

Stannis had taken Deepwood Motte, and the mountain clans had joined him. Flint, Norrey, Wull, Liddle, all.

And we had other help, unexpected but most welcome, from a daughter of Bear Island. Alysane Mormont, whose men name her the She-Bear, hid fighters inside a gaggle of fishing sloops and took the ironmen unawares where they lay off the strand. Greyjoy's longships are burned or taken, her crews slain or surrendered. The captains, knights, notable warriors, and others of high birth we shall ransom or make other use of, the rest I mean to hang …

[...]

… more northmen coming in as word spreads of our victory. Fisherfolk, freeriders, hillmen, crofters from the deep of the wolfswood and villagers who fled their homes along the stony shore to escape the ironmen, survivors from the battle outside the gates of Winterfell, men once sworn to the Hornwoods, the Cerwyns, and the Tallharts. We are five thousand strong as I write, our numbers swelling every day. And word has come to us that Roose Bolton moves toward Winterfell with all his power, there to wed his bastard to your half sister. He must not be allowed to restore the castle to its former strength. We march against him. Arnolf Karstark and Mors Umber will join us. I will save your sister if I can, and find a better match for her than Ramsay Snow. You and your brothers must hold the Wall until I can return.

Did I say Asha Greyjoy has four longships? I meant zero.

Stannis has five thousand men. Do you like how confident he sounds in this letter? Pray for the northmen.

You and your brothers must hold the Wall until I can return.

And hide Shireen.

+.+.+

He was not at all sure how he felt about what he had just read. Battles had been fought at Winterfell before, but never one without a Stark on one side or the other. "The castle is a shell," he said, "not Winterfell, but the ghost of Winterfell." It was painful just to think of it, much less say the words aloud. And still …

I don't know, that could be telling us something.

+.+.+

He wondered how many men old Crowfood would bring to the fray, and how many swords Arnolf Karstark would be able to conjure up. Half the Umbers would be across the field with Whoresbane, fighting beneath the flayed man of the Dreadfort, and the greater part of the strength of both houses had gone south with Robb, never to return.

Have we concluded this is actually Karstark foreshadowing?

I see no reason to worry about Whoresbane, Mors, or Greatjon fighting for Team Bolton.

+.+.+

Robert Baratheon would have seen that at once and moved swiftly to secure the castle, with the forced marches and midnight rides for which he had been famous. Would his brother be as bold?

Not likely. Stannis was a deliberate commander, and his host was a half-digested stew of clansmen, southron knights, king's men and queen's men, salted with a few northern lords. He should move on Winterfell swiftly, or not at all, Jon thought. It was not his place to advise the king, but …

Love how this green boy is an infinitely better battle commander than the great Stannis Baratheon.

It could not be more obvious Stannis is fucked.

+.+.+

What if Bolton never had his sister? This wedding could well be just some ruse to lure Stannis into a trap. Eddard Stark had never had any reason to complain of the Lord of the Dreadfort, so far as Jon knew, but even so he had never trusted him, with his whispery voice and his pale, pale eyes.

Mounting evidence Stannis will walk into a trap set by Roose.

Obviously Arya won't be the lure.

+.+.+

A grey girl on a dying horse, fleeing from her marriage. On the strength of those words he had loosed Mance Rayder and six spearwives on the north. "Young ones, and pretty," Mance had said. The unburnt king supplied some names, and Dolorous Edd had done the rest, smuggling them from Mole's Town. It seemed like madness now. He might have done better to strike down Mance the moment he revealed himself. Jon had a certain grudging admiration for the late King-Beyond-the-Wall, but the man was an oathbreaker and a turncloak. He had even less trust in Melisandre. Yet somehow here he was, pinning his hopes on them.

Oy, Jon has been spot on so far.

Edit: Mance Rayder, the unburnt king. . .

They had been Drogo's people, but they were hers now. The Unburnt, they called her, and Mother of Dragons. Her word was their law. - Daenerys I, ACOK

That is the last thing you want to see. I'm losing my faith in Mance Rayder.

Great catch, @decadelongsummer.

+.+.+

When Jon had been a boy at Winterfell, his hero had been the Young Dragon, the boy king who had conquered Dorne at the age of fourteen. Despite his bastard birth, or perhaps because of it, Jon Snow had dreamed of leading men to glory just as King Daeron had, of growing up to be a conqueror. Now he was a man grown and the Wall was his, yet all he had were doubts. He could not even seem to conquer those.

He died, Jon.

Final thoughts:

Is it groundhog day?

Jon does not act like a Lord Commander. Jon angers Bowen Marsh. Jon integrates more wildlings. Jon sends his friends and supporters away. Jon and Ghost are one.

How can someone complain about Brienne's chapters when Jon's are an endless cycle of the exact same thing?

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #adwd #jon vii

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grislyintentions · 5 months

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|| Nature ; Nurture ||

Summary: To learn true divinity is to carve devotion upon your very being, etch it into the fabric of your soul and allow the whisperings of love to welcome you into your Aeon's eternal embrace. || Creation of another Emanator + a littol 'kith' Accompanying song: Light Shower (Trypophobia and body horror warning)

TW: Body horror, gore, cannibalism, worship of a false god/sacrilege, perspective of extreme idolisation (cult like devotion)

Rivulets of blood trickle and pool against the Aeon's robes, dirtying them with an unbecoming colour. Filth. To sully any part of the divine feels like an unforgivable sin.

Yet there is only kindness in their eyes when they gaze upon the wretched. A deep sadness for their plight and suffering. It moves one to tears. How gentle they are. Even to the most undeserving of creatures. Even to those who once cursed and condemned the very existence of the Thousand-Handed Merciful Medicus.

The shame of it all burns a thousand times over for their transgressions and they can only weep in the face of true acceptance. If love is not in the tender careful manner in which Yaoshi collects their tears, then surely love does not exist.

If love is not the security and warmth of multiple arms cradling one's broken form, then surely love does not exist.

In the end, after all the hate and the fear and the anger and regret and sorrow and loneliness, only Yaoshi remains. Whispering words of reassurance: they are still here. They have not forgotten. If that is not love, then what is?

Surely, all of that horror was for love. Lips unlike any other rest upon the corners of sun-scorched ones; cooling as the first streams of water filling in all the cracks of the soil and rejuvenating the earth itself. Cold enough to yield a quiet gasp. What reason would one have not to accept the Aeon's gift?

Honey, a hint of sweetness in betwixt the numbing cold creeping inside. An inhuman tongue caressing, soothing, tracing the indent of teeth and cheek. The burning subsides, quenched by Yaoshi's patience, drawn out from the Aeon in wisps of air and incense. Flowers bloom in the darkness, blotting out the unforgiving rage of the burning sun. An invitation to be a part of something beautiful, a gift of healing, presents itself in the expression of giving and receiving.

It is human nature to want. It is human nature to be greedy. Dirty hands clinging onto a frame oddly angled. To clutch and sully everything they touch. And it is in this Aeon's nature to forgive even that. To replace the guilt with relief, licking at the flames and chasing, learning still to better seek out their ailments by angling closer. Molding, angles too sharp shifting beneath the fabric of their skin.

It hurts - of course it does - when lips that previously kissed sharpen and warp into pincers. Clamping down on an errant covetous tongue with a force crushing enough to rend meat into pulp in a singular blow.

A moment of pure, exquisite, blinding, agony.

It hurts. Until it doesn't.

Trembling fingers reached to cover their mouth, exhales shaky and violent. Sticky. Sweet. The taste of pomegranates coat their tongue. Realisation seeps in slowly. Much as the curious sensation of owning a tongue that was not their own. Liberated from the shackles of false gossip and reborn. Given a chance to speak the truth in the name of their Aeon.

The tears they weep do not sting. For their mortal prison is no longer a prison but a garden from which they could nurture and grow the seeds of their devotion.

Thank you. They whisper.

Thank you.

Somewhere in the distance, the birds began to sing.

#charac: yaoshi #sacrilege cw #false god cw

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ceekbee · 4 months

Text

Brian Jacques - Taggerung, 2001.

Felice Casorati - Dreaming of Pomegranates, 1913.

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cypriathus · 1 month

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Here are my versions of Astaroth/Furfur/Sitri, Paimon/Stolas, and Pruflas!

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: There is a mention of incest

Asricylonthe Furszretokila is a steadfast fallen angel who is a pathological liar, but will speak truthfully when compelled to do so. She’s fond of manipulation and corruption that’s intellectual in nature, and has a philosophical mindset. She’s a respected military strategist and won’t speak at all unless spoken to; she’ll either sit, stand or do something else in utter silence. She possesses a willingness to give power to those with the desire of accomplishing good deeds, but will refuse if they have ill intentions. Whenever people violate purity of any kind and steal items of personal, global or interdimensional significance, she becomes furious and bloodthirsty towards those who are responsible. She has an excessive admiration of her own appearance and achievements, but tries her best to remain humbly modest. On a few occasions, she comes off as extremely lazy due to her self-doubt, having no motivation to perform her duties. Asricylonthe is intelligent and well-informed, and possesses a great deal of wisdom, using it to make mostly sound judgements.

She’s a 8’ 3” (251.46 cm) lanky ectomorph with slim arms, a well-defined waist, overly round hips, a swollen belly, and prominent thighs. Her skin is a rose quartz with black freckles on the face, neck, chest, belly, and hands. She has three heads; that of a feminine human with eyes covered in white seafoam and streaks of weeping golden ichor (front), a leopard (right), and a male red deer (left). She has a chestnut neck and four wings; that of a hammer-headed bat (upper) and a gryphon (lower). Asricylonthe has draconic hands, a back covered in finger-length hedgehog spines, the hindquarters of a female sika deer, and a flaming horse tail. Her stomach has been cut open, which is heavily infested with parasitic serpents that are visibly blind and act as her intestines.

Her human head is adorned with a gold-plated, six-arched crown that’s set sparingly with dark purple, magenta, and vivid turquoise gems. She dons a silver cap with scarlet hemming, allowing her red blonde locks to flow freely from beneath in undulating waves. She wears a necklace of purple pearls and sculpted green agate pomegranates, gold acorns, and aquamarine lotus flowers. In order to cover up her shame, she dons a blue-green skirt of rippling cloth with tassels and a repetitive pattern of red ochre crescent moons. Asricylonthe has a tawny sash around her hips that’s adorned with a gold-horned bull’s head pendant of dark purple on the left. She often wields an epsilon axe in her right and a paramerion with a hilt shaped similarly to a djed-pillar. This djed-shaped hilt is primarily a shimmering golden yellow, but it has blocks of emerald, sapphire, and ruby.

She can cause love between men and women, making them strip themselves of their clothing and reveal their nudity if it’s desired. However, she only enables and encourages lawful loving relations within the bounds of marriage. She possesses unquestionable and reliable knowledge on femininity, philosophy, mathematical sciences and handicrafts, liberal arts, past and future events, hidden secrets, and divine objects. She’s able to manipulate storms, tempests, thunder, lightning, chaos, time, the stars, fertility, and war. Asricylonthe can make individuals invisible and grant them knowledge on hidden treasures and the power over serpents. She has the ability to shapeshift into beautiful creatures and flowers, and emits a powerful fetid odour that causes asphyxiation. She’s able to grant friendships to those of higher social status, and her physical and mental strength are enhanced during Friday nights.

FAMILY:

Paimoszun L’Stovuzrepha (younger brother)

Prufhaloje (daughter)

ALIASES/NICKNAMES:

Astaroth

Furfur

Sitri

She Who Turns With A Miserable Temper

She Who Kills Enemies In Her Bloodlust

Mistress With A Loyal Heart

Field of Heaven’s Lady

The Strong Womb

FUN FACTS/EXTRA INFORMATION:

As an Æylphitus, the different parts of her name have special meanings: Asricylonthe means “cohesive laws” and Furszretokila means “bran, scoundrel or hiddenness”.

She’s the queen of Fraudulence

She rules over fourty legions of demons

Her steed is a wolfish beast with draconic wings, eagle feet, and a crocodilian tail.

She’s often accompanied by lionesses, bees, and doves carrying palm fronds in their beaks.

She enjoys talking at length about the creation of the first universe, the war on heaven, and the faults of fallen angels.

She frequently comments on the injustice of her fall from grace due to her former position in the divine council and how their betrayal was uncalled for.

She has a rough-sounding voice

Paimoszun L’Stovuzrepha is a cheeky fallen angel with a hostile distaste towards humans, yet strongly values honour, honesty, and perseverance. Through his close observances and excellent listening skills, he becomes increasingly wiser by each day. He enjoys sharing knowledge and spreading festive behaviours as it allows him to form healthy connections and preserve his legacy. He’s highly pacifistic, viewing the notions of fighting to be fruitless, pointless, and feeble-minded. He’s often in a mental state free from trifling and stands firm with his decision-making, only considering the advice of others when necessary. He has a willingness to serve good-hearted people and possesses a low sense of self-worth, but views humans as lowly pests. He can accept reasonable delays and problems without anxiety, but he might become slightly irritated after a long while. He’s a perfectionistic organiser and clean freak, and will turn panicky and furious when things are misplaced or touched without his permission. It may not look like it, but Paimoszun is secretly diffident, which means that he’s unassertive, bashful, and lacks self-confidence.

He possesses a height of 7’ 11” (241.3 cm) with a rectangular ectomorph body type that has slim arms, a protruding ribcage, and prominent thighs. His body possesses an almost emaciated look, his warty delicate skin is a periglacial blue, and his shoulder-length wavy hair is pink blonde. He possesses sunburst copper rose-green smoke eyes with pupils that fluctuate in size and shape based on light and emotion. He has massive barn owl wings, goat-shaped ears, a reddish draconic tail, and three forked tongues. He has long avian legs of Buddha gold with metallic green talons, Dalesbred ram horns, and an elongated neck of fluffy dromedary fur. Paimoszun wears a spring rain Chand Tora Dumalla with a crown of orange chrysanthemums and dangling blue veszelyite teardrops. He dons a pompadour sirwal, a willow grove sash with clay ash dots, and an Oxynoticeras ammonite geode necklace. He also dons an old lavender cashmere kaftan with golden buttons and floral patterning of medium pink, dark magenta, yellow-gold, carrot, burgundy, Pacific blue, and deep teal.

Paimoszun possesses absolute knowledge of the four cardinal directions, earth, water, wind, astronomy, herbs, plants, precious stones, all creative arts, and past and future events. He can bestow individuals with the power over aquatic life, reveal hidden treasures, and grant people insight on the affairs of the multiverse. He’s able to bestow dignities and lordships, grant mages their own familiars, clear up doubts, make Pnemazokhus appear, and create illusions and prophetic visions. He can remain underwater for an infinite amount of time, reanimate the dead, and fly at extraordinarily fast speeds. He’s capable of inflicting psychological, physical, and spiritual torment, which includes the reconstruction of traumatic events and horrifying nightmares. He’s physically and mentally empowered by loud noises and bright lights, and can change the intensity of his voice to an ear-splitting volume. Paimoszun can bind his enemies through chains made from the golden ichor of dead angels and the souls of Chaos and Caligo.

FAMILY:

Asricylonthe Furszretokila (twin sister)

Prufhaloje (daughter)

ALIASES/NICKNAMES:

Paimon

Stolas

Angel of the Four Cardinal Directions, Herbal Medicine, and Gemstones

His Most Obedient

His Talon

FUN FACTS/EXTRA INFORMATION:

As an Æylphitus, the different parts of his name have special meanings: Paimoszun means “king of the west” and L’Stovuzrepha “star-legged, owl’s crown or knower of herbs”.

He’s the king of Fraudulence

He commands sixty-six legions of demons

His neck is unnaturally flexible

He has a hoarse, yet plain voice and prefers to speak his mother tongue, which is the cryptic Æylphitus language.

He has two pet birds: a black raven who can tell prophecies in all languages and a great horned owl who can grant wisdom by lulling people to sleep.

He rides a crowned dromedary, preceded by sorcerer demons and sophisticated imps who play trumpets and cymbals.

Prufhaloje is a magnanimous fallen angel who’s level-headed in times of crisis and possesses a great deal of hatred towards warmongering. She has a pleasant and soft-spoken presence, but is fully capable of achieving her goals through cunning and subtle manipulation. She’s greatly ashamed of herself and her family lineage after finding out that she was the product of an incestuous relationship. She has pyromania, having an arousing fascination with fire and hoards an excessive amount of flammable materials. After setting a fire and witnessing its aftermath, she feels calmness wash over her as any semblance of negativity has been released.

Prufhaloje’s warty, yet smooth skin is a regent st blue with black freckles and her eyes are covered in bloody sea foam. She has a voluptuous, oval-shaped figure, a lack of breasts, shoulder-length golden blonde hair of messy waves, and a belly covered in the numerous chestnut Arabian horse forelegs. She has five heads: that of a decaying woman, a phoenix, a snow leopard, a water dragon, and a black shuck. She has a tail that mimics the colouration of a woma python, four phoenix wings, goat-shaped ears, and draconic feet. She wears an Arctic fox skin over her left shoulder, an olive haze sirwal, and gilded armlets. She also dons a necklace made from rat tails and a mid-thigh sanguine brown skirt with vertical teal blue stripes and silver tassels. Prufhaloje carries a lit firebrand and a sistrum that can summon firestorms and bestow love and fertility.

She can cause quarrels, war, discord, falsehood, poverty, and sudden bouts of generosity, and make men witty in their desired professions and topics of interest. She has full knowledge concerning the private matters of life and set cities, castles, and places of significance ablaze. Prufhaloje is able to move sepulchres and turn the dead into infernal servants that spread eloquence, wisdom, and riches. She knows the magical benefits of precious stones and herbs, and can bring people from one country to another. She can utilise astral projection and surround herself with raging fire that leaves people sterile, insane, and hungry.

FAMILY:

Paimoszun L’Stovuzrepha (father)

Asricylonthe Furszretokila (mother)

ALIASES/NICKNAMES:

Pruflas

Angel of Mangled Lies and Unconcealed Truths

FUN FACTS/EXTRA INFORMATION:

As an Æylphitus, her name means “falsehood, truthfulness or quarrelling discord”.

She’s the princess of Fraudulence

She commands over twenty-six legions of demons

She rides a pale horse with a calf’s head, fleshy fangs, and a crocodilian tail.

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