rabidbacon — Roleplayer Guild

[Location] Harbor of Winds, Votara
[Time] Saturday, 04:30 PM
[Interactions] N/A

Aethalos looked back at the crowd and gave them a solemn nod. In response, each one of them made a gesture of reverence, hands drawing out the great serpent's symbol in the air, followed by Ramuh's bolts and Garuda's claws. The sight of it made Aethalos' skin crawl, still - it felt a blasphemy to not reprimand them, to not put her full focus into the godess of perfection, to stare straight and only at light of Ultima. All she could do was turn away. Unceasing winds whistled past her, lifting her hair into the breeze, setting each strand free. All she had to do was to let go, and jump.

Fear slithered into her body, leaving a trail of shivers in its wake, and Aethalos' breath hitched. It was a new emotion, one she was still learning to grapple with. Not so long ago, her body and soul focused only on the fervor of faith, her senses dulled or aroused only for its defense. Now, all her body could do was recoil at the memory of how far a body could fall and break, but still remain alive - a drowning welt of battered flesh, snapped bones and lungs screaming for oblivion.

In her ear, a voice crackled, ending the trance.

"If you don't give them a show, forget the booze," it said. "You're not supposed to have them, anyway."

A clenched fist was all Aethalos could manage; her words would be heard by all if she retorted. She took a few steps back, creating enough distance from the ledge to get a running start. Then, her feet pushed her onwards, boots stomping on the ground in a furious, ordered rhythm.

"Five. Four. Three. Two," she thought, counting down the steps to the sky with each strike of the foot. At one, she leapt. These faithless days, she wondered when the day of abandonment would come. The roar from within served as answer; Aethalos fell into the beast, rising within.

The crowds of worshippers would cheer as Leviathan coursed through the towers in a sinuous dance, a sheen of celestial blue showered upon all within this great city of Votara. The residue scattered and touched the citizens with an invigorating energy, much like how a drizzle upon parched leaves and wilting flowers restored them to life.

As they rejoiced, the great serpent wound about the Harbor, circling the treacherous spires that threatened to topple with one wrong turn, one careless whip of the head, that horned crown full of tethered dread. Those ancient eyes stared straight ahead, chasing after its tail in a cautious, ceaseless lap until the night permitted rest.

[Location] Aboard a Ship headed to the Port of Landow, Estren
[Time] Sunday, 05:00 AM
[Interactions] @Mirandae

The sweet clink of glass against glass woke Aethalos up. Her foot nudged a green bottle, and as she sat up, so did more rattles break out around her as gravity brought them home. Empty, crushed cans of Apis energy drinks rolled into bottles of byra and Kastran spirits, the sounds soothing enough to coax a wry smile from the woman's tired face. As she went into the bathroom for a brisk shower, her eyes caught sight of the run rising through the porthole window in her cabin. It was strange to Aethalos, how the sun still felt equally distant whether she was upon the seas or up in the skies. Closing her eyes, she rid herself of much thought and concentrated upon the sensation of cold water upon her skin. Cetra's scars and Ultima's inked words remained, despite the bath, but in the darkness behind her eyelids, Aethalos could pretend that the waters washed them away. Just as she pretended the waters could mend all the flesh she had torn apart, all the blood she had spilled, in the name of good.

As she dried off, she grimaced at the blurry Knight-Penitent in the mirror. Aethalos dried off in a hurry after putting on her contacts, and then, in an orderly succession, she buttoned and fixed her shirt and pants, finishing with a tailored suit prepared just for the occassion. Her fingertips traced the dark, wave-like patterns sewn into the waterproof fabric, marvelling at the details made with such care, even if few would ever see them. She felt unworthy of such efforts. Nevertheless, she would try to look worthy, if that was what the people needed. Before she left the room, she gathered up all evidence of last night's mess in two garbage bags, and she left it in a corner as instructed, for someone to dispose of. These were things she couldn't be associated with, at least, according to her new benefactors. She ambled down the halls to seek out her assignment for the day; Aethalos picked up the pace as some early-risers aboard the ship watched her, making gestures of blessing and thanks as her glance passed their faces. She nodded at them, inwardly chastising herself. If she was on time, she was already late.

She was eventually guided to a room, where a team of stylists and make-up artists impressed upon her face and her hair who she was to be for the rest of the day. It never failed to feel strange to Aethalos, for most of her life, she had lived and served as a faceless being behind a thick helm, virtually indistinguishable from her brothers and sisters in arms. After they were satisfied with the work, she stared at the figure in the mirror. It took some effort to suppress a smile; Aethalos was not blind to the austere elegance of her eyes or the symmetry of her brows, but it felt childish to be pleased by such things. She thanked them with as much sincerity as she could muster, and she hoped that they felt it. After they left, an official from Estren briefed her on the day's expectations, and all but begged her to sign the document that forbade the Dominant forms. It was an understandable worry; one mistake, and the great serpent could level the whole town. Not to mention what the other Dominant forms could do. She gave him no trouble... though the thought of hemming and hawing at the waiver did amuse her, somewhat.

Now ready for the scrutiny of the public eye, Aethalos finally stepped off the docked Velos and onto dry, sandy land. A discreet security team followed behind her, pistols strapped to their thighs. A small crowd of Leviathan's devotees had already formed near the ship; it was expected of its Regalia to traverse the waters to meet them, after all. She hailed them with a wave and went to speak with them, though she kept her tight schedule in mind, and she managed to herd them together and shepherded the crowd to reach the offeratory service in an orderly fashion. Ceremonies to Gaia had already begun, and Aethalos' eyes caught sight of the young Regalia. She seemed to feel at home in her duties; Aethalos felt a small wistfulness at such a sight. How whole she must feel, thought Aethalos, as she took her place by the shrine. Her chest tightened with anguish as she placed an offering upon Ultima's shrine, even if she would rather not.

As was customary, Leviathan's followers prepared small glass bottles, which Aethalos filled with her own crystal-lined flask. Despite the length of the line, the cool water in her flask never seemed to run out, symbolizing the ceaseless renewal of life, and the sharing of it within a community. Seeing as there was still some time, Aethalos spoke with some of the devotees, and they went around the streets of Landrow, searching for thirsty strays whose poor throats were parched and in need of quenching. The children found the endeavor particularly engaging, and despite the Regalia's stern demeanor, they remained and even conversed at length with her, the latter answering their absurd questions with great seriousness.
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