Embracing Fear: myglae, Nocht

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 pink rose lies elegantly on the ground, discarded by a careless hand.
You see a single exit leading through an image of the night sky.

You drop one knee to the ground, genuflecting in sheer reverence.

The flapping of large, silver-white wings signals the arrival of a metallic feathered pelican. Landing and opening its long pouch beak, a metallic feathered pelican upends a cluster of snapdragons into your hands with an accompanying splash of wet, wet water. You now feel very clean.

A metallic feathered pelican vigorously flaps its large, silver-white wings and takes off, squawking and squeaking as it goes.

You twitch spasmodically.

You put a cluster of snapdragons into a salivating flytrap.
Without a thought, you plop a cluster of snapdragons into a salivating flytrap's pot, letting it settle. Suddenly, the flytrap springs to life, snatching the item with its broad leaves and shoving it into the plant's spiny mouth.

You close your eyes and inhale deeply, absorbing the scent of your surroundings.
You let loose a long breath from your lungs, exhaling slowly.

You think to yourself: ** a dozen questions form halfway in their mind before dissipating; a rising and blackthorn sussuration of shadows and blackthorn petals, oddly melodic in its shifting. **.

You have emoted: Esei tips their head back to gaze up at the night sky, hands folded on their lap.

You lazily draw your wings to and fro through the air, fanning them slowly.

Soft whispers circle the fulcrux, rising and falling with the stirrings of the icy breeze. [in nocht purple]

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

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

You have emoted: Esei bows their head slightly, exhaling.

You think to yourself: ...hello, my Lord.

The whispering noises seem to circle with fulcrux with increasing speed, their murmurs giving way to a strange chittering noise as something unseen darts back and forth around the lonesome hill. [NOT in nocht purple...]

You have emoted: Esei's head lifts as the chittering rises in volume, their brows furrowing slightly.

As if it had been there all along, a lone myglae is suddenly twisting and spinning in the air above the Silent Lord's shrine. Though still an ill-defined shape, the creature seems more stable when last you saw it. Though its edges still bubble and churn, it is no longer just a wildly fluctuating tear in the space around it.

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.

You have emoted: Wings shivering, Esei tilts their head further back to observe the myglae. "Hello," they say softly. "Are you well?"

Like a darting insect, the myglae does not stay in one spot for very long, their bubbling form dancing among the polished stones that orbit the shrine, but they do reply. Their voice stretched out and twisting in on itself not unlike their own shape. "Watch. Watch. Wait. Watch. Waaaaaaaait..." - the last word breaks apart into a clicking, chittering hum. "You watch? You wait? For Him - Father - Dying One?"

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.

Lilting in an atramentous, ethereal voice, you whisper, "...always."

"We watch-wait-watch others. I? Me...? We try to move - live - rooooooooooooot like Father. Like siblings. Like MOTHER wanted. Try but cannot, cannot, cannot." the myglae swirls in agitation. "Why do you wait-watch-wait? Why are you alone - isolated - SILENT?"

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

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.

You have emoted: "I..." Esei seems to hesitate, but it is but a brief thing. "I wait, and I watch, because... a very long time ago, now - though perhaps not very, depending on one's perspective of time - He tasked me with a ritual to aid His restoration, and would see when He would have it done. And... because He is important, to me, and to others, and I suppose I cannot help but worry for Him. Though I doubt He requires such concerns." They take a deep breath, wings shivering as they fan open and closed. "Is there any way I can help? And... what do you mean by alone?"

The myglae stretches out between the orbiting stones of the shrine as their broken voice ripples through the fulcrux, "Alone alone alooooone...." their voice seeming to wander with their thoughts. "We were alone - forgotten - H A T E D for a long time. Father understands."

You have emoted: Esei is silent for several long moments, staring up at the myglae as they shift around the shrine. "...I am sorry you were," they finally say, voice soft. "I am glad He found you."

You think to yourself: ** mild frustration builds, then subsides, in a flurry of white petals; cantheyhelp? a vague impression of a hug... **.

It is now the 4th of Vestian, 611 years after the Coming of Estarra.
There are 21 days until the New Moon

The myglae seems to react to your thoughts, twisting and darting through the air as it now hovers over the shimmering mantle before the shrine. "Embrace? Love? HATE? I - we were hugged by Him and part of Him. He remembers - forgets - loves - hates memories of thisssssss..." their voice breaks off into a hissing noises the echoes in the otherwise silence of the fulcrux, and then they hover closer to you. "Do you WANT this? To know - hate - HUG?"

Gently, you say, "I know what it is like to be alone, to be forgotten, to be hated. I barely know you, but, you are not something hideous to me." They pause, quiet. "I would know you, and love you, if you would let me. Hug you, if you would let me."

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 myglae swirls around, shape distorting and warping as they wrap about your shoulders, and immediately several visions seem to overlap in your mind, sights and sounds and sensations blurring together in a disorienting flurry though you never once leave the fulcrux. "I - we do not understand the meaning. He loves - hates - F E A R S it."

You have emoted: Esei exhales gently, shoulders relaxing a fraction, as if to brace themself. "Fear is... a difficult emotion, even for mortals. It can be... explainable, or not. The perception of danger, or something likely to cause pain," they say softly. "...What is it that causes such fear? Would you show me?"

You think to yourself: ** so many scattered images-sounds-tastes-smells; a tendril of regret that their mind is merely mortal, and cannot process all of it... **.

You have emoted: Half mindless, Esei's hand comes up to touch the myglae about their shoulders, but pauses a few inches away from their non-surface.

A series of scenes begin to take shape within your mind's eye, some strange mix of the myglae and Silent Lord's memories. You find yourself resting your head against a chest, whispering words you cannot quite make out to your companion. A surge of emotion as He replies and you press your face into the starlit mantle He wears. You find yourself in a field of flowers, dizzying in its myriad colours. Tears fill Her eyes, and You can think of nothing to do, but hold Her close. You find yourself alone for so, so long in the darkness of the Void. And then you see Him, the Silent Lord, and He reaches out to embrace and Awaken you. You find yourself in a large chamber, surrounded by Your Cousins, Their forms blurred and indistinct because You are not looking at Them. You look only at the viewing crystal above as the Heralds embrace Him with claws and teeth. Noises? Screams? You can only wonder why it takes so long....

The myglae swirls back into the air as their chittering voice queries, "What is the purpose? Why hug - embrace - TEAR?"

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

You have emoted: Shivering slightly as they close their eyes for a moment, Esei whispers, "I cannot speak for the Elders, but... Tears are for release, when one's emotions are too great to bear. There are happy tears, sad tears, angry tears, and yet more. To embrace another... for mortals, it is for comfort, to enjoy another's presence, to celebrate." They blink away some of their own tears. "There are many reasons, for both... But- the last one- was not an embrace of comfort or love or joy; it was one of death, one that killed."

The myglae trembles in midair as if in thought. "Death. Death Deaaaaaath.... I will wait-watch-wait and ponder. Celebrate. Lament. My lack of understanding." And then the myglae is simply gone as if they were never there in the first place.

You have emoted: Esei gives a full body shudder, their breathing forcefully steady as they stare down at the Sidereal Mantle of Ailustris.

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

You close your eyes and inhale deeply, absorbing the scent of your surroundings.
You let loose a long breath from your lungs, exhaling slowly.

You give the master shrine of Nocht a respectful bow, one hand clasped over your heart.

You think to yourself: ...be well, my Lord... and you as well, dear myglae.

You stand before the wavering image of the night sky, your arms spread wide. In an instant, shadowy tendrils shoot out and wrap around as they forcibly drag you into the image. All fades to black before you are suddenly hurled into a dark cavern.