His Choice: Nocht

It is now the 8th of Roarkian, 621 years after the Coming of Estarra.
There are 10 days until the New Moon

The soft, hollow-toned voice of the Silent Lord suddenly envelops the fulcrux, "Greetings, My little one. It's been some time..."

The pointed tips of your ears twitch to hear an errant sound.

The Fulcrux of Nocht.
The image of a beautiful nighttime sky has been stretched across the fulcrux. Dim stars struggle futilely to compete with the terrifying beauty of Mother Night. The ethereal image wavers on occasion, the sky rippling like water in a pond. A lonely hill covered in tall grass leads up to a single shrine. Behind the shrine stands a large blackthorn tree. The tree is taller than most of its kind, extending upwards rather than outwards. Delicate blossoms shower down from its branches, creating a flurry of white petals and filling the air with the pungent scent of wyrden foliage. A complex series of stones orbit around a stygian orb here. A rippling image of a beautiful night sky has been magically wrapped around the fulcrux here. Reverently laid before the shrine in a sheath of starlight and shadow, the Sidereal Mantle of Ailustris emanates Divine power here. A creature of starlit shadow is here, blending in with the ambient darkness.
You see a single exit leading through an image of the night sky.

You have emoted: Esei bows their head subtly. "Hello, my Lord. It has."

You have emoted: Esei's wings tremble silently as they tilt their head, considering the Sidereal Mantle of Ailustris.

Grasping shadows linger and take hold of this exquisite cloak of Night, a constellation of stars drifting across its tenebrous silk with an empyreal beauty. Like misty diamonds, each captured star twinkles brilliantly in the darkness as if plucked from the heavens, arranging and rearranging in endless, ephemeral formations. There is an enchanting quality to the fluid way the cloak ripples with its every movement, at once inky, opaque, and shimmering in its fragile resplendence. A single radiant star serves as the clasp for this heavy mantle, its seven points glaring with cold illumination.
It weighs about 8 pounds.
It has a warmth factor of 8.
It has the following aliases: mantle.
You feel compelled to TOUCH the Sidereal Mantle of Ailustris.

Softly, you say, "I know not if You remain, my Lord, but. I did have a question for You, if You wished to hear it."

A silence stretches out leaving only the sounds of the falling blackthorn petals before the hollow voice speaks once more, "You may always ask your questions, little one."

Shadows swirl around your arm as the Fingerblade of dha'Wyrden-cree digs itself more painfully into your finger.

The boughs of the large blackthorn moan loudly as they shake, sending a new shower of petals cascading across the fulcrux.

You have emoted: Staring at the starry Mantle for a few beats longer, Esei clasps their hands behind their back, shifting their gaze up to the blackthorn tree. "...were You in love with HIm?" They pause, wings shivering. "I... understand that Your feelings will likely be greater than anything I will ever be able to fully comprehend, and I know that the mortal word for 'love' may not be able to really... encompass that." Then they fall silent, brow furrowed, rubbing their thumb over their knuckle in a repetitive back-and-forth motion.

The air within the fulcrux suddenly grows heavy, a melancholic bitterness creeping into the empty voice's whispers, "He left. Misled by Amberle and Her ilk. Perhaps if I had known then all that I have learned now... But He is dead." The non-answer hangs heavy in the air, weighing down the branches of the blackthorn.

You have emoted: "...I am sorry for Your loss, my Lord." Esei's fingers fidget, giving away their uncertainty, faint as it may be. "...I... would You like a hug?" they ask, voice abrupt.

You think to yourself: ** brief flickers of the myglae, memories of visions both dark and bright. **.

Shadows swirl around the edges of the fulcrux as the soft, whispering voice fills the fulcrux, "You need not feel sadness for Me, My little one. He made His choice and died for it, and it cannot be undone. Despair. Grief. Regret. These weaknesses will not claim Me. Such is for My Cousins outside the Wyrd."

You have emoted: Esei bows their head again, dark hair sliding over their shoulder with the movement. They pause, as if considering what to say, before they simply state, "I know, my Lord."

The image of the night sky grows terrifyingly dark as an icy breeze cuts across the lonely hill, spiralling patterns dancing across the tall grass.

The ever-present sense of your heartbeat thrums, beating to the rhythmic pulse of the Drums of the Dead.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "...I do have other questions, if You would rather hear those?"

The boughs of the large blackthorn moan loudly as they shake, sending a new shower of petals cascading across the fulcrux.

The branches of the blackthorn sway once more, seemingly stirred by the sound of your voice, "You may always ask."

It is now the 9th of Roarkian, 621 years after the Coming of Estarra.
There are 9 days until the New Moon

You have emoted: Esei gives a firm nod, tipping their head up as they glide closer to the blackthorn tree. "When You first Awoke Mother Night... what was it like to meet Her? What was it like to see Her again, after the Void?" They pause briefly, wings shivering. "What was it like to see the Wyrd for the first time?"

"My apologies, little one, but My attention is pulled elsewhere for the moment. We will speak on this another time."

You nod.

Lilting in a dark, ethereal voice, you whisper, "Be well, my Lord."