Anna's Story Emporium - Tumblr Posts

The refugees all huddled together around a pitifully small fire, shivering as cold wind gently brushed their backs. The fire was rather small, barely two handfuls of sticks and scraps of bark peeled off nearby trees, and the five of them were plenty to form a human shield against the wind. Every stray breeze threatened to put out the meager flame, to plunge them into frigid darkness once again. The moon above was hidden by a dense layer of clouds, though it was unlikely they would have gotten much light from the waning moon anyways.

Sterling, the self-proclaimed leader of their tiny clan, was continuously scanning the forest around them, ever alert for danger from the Sun King’s army, or bandits, or wild animals that might be starved enough to attack a group of people. He was a huge man, certainly large enough to deter would-be predators in more normal circumstances, but they were already in the second year of an endless winter. Even animals used to the cold and snow would be starving and feral by this point… The wind kicked up briefly, forcing everyone to hunch over and huddle closer together.

They wore mismatched clothes that barely protected them from the cold. Sterling had hunted some animals when he could, using the meat for food, the fur to line everyone’s cloaks and boots, and the fat to waterproof their shoes. It was hard to keep everyone safe. There were so many dangers lurking in every direction, and the omnipresent cold threatened them at every moment. They had killed a bear recently, but the beast was so malnourished that it barely offered any meat or fat. Its fur was so matted and mangy that they didn’t dare try to use it for lining. Though, even if it had been a healthy, fat bear, Sterling doubted they would have wanted the grim reminder of the creature that killed one of their own.

Across the fire, Aero held her hands out to the fire. Her fingers were numb, holes in her threadbare mittens letting the cold in no matter how much she tried to patch them up. Even the scraps of fur stuffed into them did little to keep out the chill.

As Sterling’s daughter, she felt it was important to maintain a strong facade, to keep the group’s morale high. It was easier said than done, though. She was four months pregnant, and it was growing increasingly more difficult to keep a brave face when she was eternally worried about her unborn baby. The Sun King had promised that any children born during the winter would be protected in his palace, but neither Aero nor Sterling believed him. They had heard plenty of stories about babies being ripped away from their screaming mothers, too young to survive without milk yet taken by force to the palace, never to be seen again. Rumors flew in every direction about what the king did with all these babies, but rumors were all they had to go on. While she’d love to think that she would fight to the death to keep her baby, there was nothing she’d be able to do, realistically. They were a quintet of half-starved, cold-numbed civilians. The Sun King’s soldiers were always well-fed and strong, and they always came in large groups. The mere thought of her baby being taken away by a mass of cruel soldiers made Aero sick. For the hundreth time, she wished that Robin was still around. He wouldn’t have been able to fight the soldiers any better than her, but at least they would have had each other to the bitter end.

To her left, Rhythm noticed to ashen look on Aero’s face and reached over to draw her against his side. All the worrying was bad for her baby, but there was no comfort he could offer besides sharing body heat. His younger brother had fathered the child, and the lovers had often come up with plans to raise and care for their child. Rhythm always thought it silly. What could two scrawny village kids do in this frozen hellscape?

Thinking about his brother caused a deep pain in his chest. Less than a week ago, Robin had been mauled by a bear while the brothers were out hunting. The beast had taken Rhythm’s right hand clean off, but Robin had no such luck. His brother, his poor baby brother, had survived for some hours afterwards, desperately clinging to life… But they’d had no bandages, no medicine, not even some alcohol to numb his pain. None of them allowed Aero to see him. She didn’t need to see the nightmarish sight of her beloved lying in the ankle-deep snow, blood bubbling out of his mouth in a foamy red mess. The bear had gouged him deeply in some places, but the lethal wound was the fractured rib cage that punctured his lungs. They couldn’t even put him out of his misery, for they had no weapons to speak of.

Rhythm felt ill as thoughts about his poor, mangled, dying brother’s last gurgling gasp for air rose unbidden to the forefront of his memory. The sound still followed him into every nightmare, ringing in his ears with every gust of wind. His missing hand ached with phantom pains, while the scarred, scabbed stump throbbed with cold agony. Desperate to push the thoughts away, he hugged Aero even closer, forcing his train of thought instead down the spiral of wondering what they would do when the baby was born. IF the baby was born.

Maya shuddered violently as an abrupt, strong burst of wind tore at her hair, yanking it up from under the neck of her cloak. She kept her gaze firmly on the fire, ignoring the scene of Aero and Rhythm to her left, ignoring Sterling’s paranoid, watchful stare on her right. Every few seconds, she caught movement in her peripheral, but she ignored it all. It was incredibly dangerous to disregard everything she saw, since she couldn’t hear anything, but it hurt to see these folks she was traveling with.

It especially hurt to look at Aero at all.

Unlike the pregnant woman, Maya had no baby, not anymore. The Sun King’s soldiers had burst into her house only a month after her little boy was born. They ignored her screams; ignored her baby’s wailing; ignored her neighbors who yelled and pelted the armored men with stones and stale bread and whatever refuse they could grab. Maya had run after them, chasing their horses for almost two miles before they stopped. One of the soldiers had dropped from his horse and beat her until her whole body ached. They left her for dead on the side of the road, the snow already piling up on her body, numbing the pain of her broken arm and all the bruises that were already forming.

It was there that Sterling had found her and saved her life… But Maya wished he had let her die. Every time she saw Aero’s belly, she wanted to scream and tear her hair out. Every time Rhythm or Sterling gestured at the unborn baby in conversations, she wanted to run into the woods and feed herself to the frozen wasteland. Even now, over a year after her baby was stolen, when the pain had dulled to a desolate ache deep in her bones, she was contemplating simply walking out into the snow and giving up entirely.

The fifth and final member of the little group, Violet, lifted her face to the sky. She was by far the oldest, her ash-gray hair hanging in thin wisps around her wrinkled, sun-darkened face.

The fire crackled, sending shadows dancing across her aged face, giving her an air of sinister mystery for a brief moment. She was the last to join them, and had been entirely silent for nine days thus far. Sterling theorized that she was also deaf, like Maya, with eyes too old and weak to understand sign language. Aero insisted that the woman simply didn’t speak Caldaean like the rest of them. Rhythm had suggested simply leaving her behind, since a deaf, blind, old woman would only slow everyone down… But every time the suggestion was made, they would find Violet staring at them with a gaze colder than the icy weather, and the discussion was quickly abandoned.

Luckily, she was there when Rhythm stumbled back to the camp, missing a hand and his brother. Violet had torn a strip of her own cloak, tightly bound the stump, and shoved it into a snowbank to slow the bleeding while Sterling ran to help Robin. Afterwards, she was unresponsive when the others tried to thank her, as if she had no idea what they were talking about.

She had a particular soft spot for Maya. Often, when Maya’s depression sunk to its lowest depths, Violet was the only one who could bring her spirits up; she offered her portion of food, gave the grieving woman some water that had been warmed by the fire, or huddled close to her to share their cloaks for extra warmth. It was Violet who tended to the aches of Maya’s poorly healed arm, keeping it immobilized with a makeshift splint when the pain was too much.

Tonight was one of the nights that Violet simply kept to herself. She watched the sky, searching for any sliver of moonlight, hoping for a glimpse of the stars. The clouds continued to roll by, too thick to let through even the tiniest peek of the heavens.

The five travelers remained clustered together. Each of them grieving their own losses. Each of them wondering what tomorrow would bring, and hoping to just survive to that tomorrow.

Aero began to cry, her stony expression crumbling as the weight of anxiety became too much. Rhythm clutched her tighter, pulling his own cloak around her to add warmth and comfort. Maya and Violet ignored them. Sterling watched his daughter struggle to regain her composure, unable to offer comfort in such a hopeless situation. They were barely surviving as it was. With Robin dead and Rhythm still recovering from his maiming, Sterling was the only one able to hunt. Loathe as he was to leave everyone unattended, he had no choice. He would have to hunt again in the morning, and he desperately prayed to gods he no longer believed in that there would be something--anything--for them to eat.

Wind kicked up, blasting a fresh wave of ice and snow and cold over the group. Maya hovered close to the fire, using her body to shield it, saving the meager flames. Sterling grabbed a handful of sticks from a small pile they had collected earlier, feeding the tiny fire. The twigs snapped and popped as they heated, sending some sparks up that winked out just as quickly.

Violet lowered her head to watch the fire, her rheumy eyes squinting against the light.

Somewhere, far in the distance, an unfamiliar bird called. The wind died away, leaving them yet again in a deep, frigid silence. The world became still once more, and the fire continued to burn.

Renee and Tier Pic made using this game: https://www.dolldivine.com/manga-creator-school-days-page-16

Renee is an angel, tasked with protecting the souls of elders.

Tier is a Reaper, who must ferry souls to the afterlife.

They met when one of the elders Renee was guarding met their end, and Tier came to collect the soul. She wanted to hate him for what he had to do, but upon seeing how gently he treated the innocent soul, she could not maintain her loathing. They continued to meet, year after year, decade after decade, century after century.

It's easier now for Renee to accept the loss of humans under her care. She knows that it's the way of things. It helps that it's always Tier who comes to collect them. His gentle nature puts the souls at ease, and it pleases Renee that the elders will be going to a better place. The souls are tired, weary from a life long lived. Sometimes they are afraid; sometimes they accept death with open arms. Every one of them is ferried along in the tender care of Renee's beloved.

Tier struggles with his task at times. The humans who resist their death make him terribly sad, because he knows that despite the struggle, it will always end. There is no bargaining with death.

He seeks solace in Renee's embrace, and she provides comfort with her kisses. They love the humans they tend to, and the shared love brings them ever closer together.

Maybe one day I'll make more posts about them, idk.

You knew it was only a matter of time before the time came.

They came for you while you were walking home from work. Threw a bag over your head, slapped cuffs on your wrists, and threw you into the back of a van. The ride is bumpy and fast; one of them has a foot wedged against your side to hold you down on the floor. It hurts, but you know that complaining won't change a thing.

The ride is over eventually. They haul you up. You're tossed over someone's thick, beefy shoulder and taken somewhere. Inside, based on the crunch of gravel giving way to the slap of shoes against wood.

You are roughly plopped down into a chair, and the bag is finally removed. You've been placed in a nicely furnished office. It's dimly lit by light slanting in through a blind-covered window. It gives the room a dusky atmosphere and obscured nearly everything. Before you is the vague block of a desk, and behind it, the blob of a chair.

You remember this office.

This is where you had to beg for more time to pay back your loan. It was humiliating, but it worked. It won't work this time. Your heart begins to pound, because you know why you're here.

Time is up.

The chair creaks loudly as it turns around. A chill runs down your spine as a hand reaches out to click on the desk lamp. The light blinds you for a moment, and as you blink and squint your eyes, you see white-gloved fingers tapping an impatient rhythm on the desk. Your gaze trails up the arm, past the crooked mustache and large nose, to the cold, merciless eyes that was staring into your very soul.

It's him. Waluigi.

The Waa-father.

Once Upon A Time...

Once upon a time, long ago, a demon disguised himself as a man. He lived in a snow-drenched city in solitude.

Once upon a summer day, the demon fell in love with a human girl. They found shelter in an abandoned church. They found solace in each other.

Once upon a winter’s night, the human girl gave birth to the demon’s dead dreams. She suffered at his hands for her weakness, and he cursed her to a life of pain.

Once upon a frozen city, the human girl longed for her end in an empty church. No more shelter; no more solace.

Once upon a time, people listened to the anguished wails in the abandoned church.

Once upon a bitter time, people walked away.

Once upon a time, Death came for a human girl. He found her alone, covered in purple blossoms, and felt pity in his heart.

Once upon a more hopeful time, the human girl was shown mercy. No more pain; no more weakness.

Once upon a time, Death cradled a human girl in his arms, and he carried her away from the frozen city.

Team COPR

Cyrene Capri, Olli Cinne, Pastel Quinn, and Roura Lyo

Cyrene, the leader, uses a sword and manipulates her aura to create an explosive force upon impact. She likes birds, and the feather in her hair is a memento from her pet bird, Captain Crimson. She is the eldest of the team by about five months, but she is 100% the Mom Friend(TM).

Olli, a leopard faunus, wears armored gloves with spiked knuckles. The spikes are terrible for fighting Grimm, but she makes up for it with her semblance, which allows her to propel herself off any solid surface at high speeds. Her favorite past time is reading books to Pastel, and her second favorite past time is embarrassing Pastel by reading smut.

Pastel is blind due to an injury acquired on a hunt. Her semblance allows her to see the aura of other living beings, and after the injury took her sight, her semblance evolved to compensate. She now sees the world through a sort of echolocation, using aura instead of sound. (Aurlocation? Idk I'm not a scientist)

Roura has the strongest semblance, allowing her to control the mind of anything she can keep her hands on. She is the weakest of the team in physical aspects, so most team fights involve the other three assisting Roura in getting to the biggest threat to neutralize it. She loves to bake, so she celebrates successful missions by making tiny cakes in everyone's favorite flavors.

Each girl was made using hapuriainen's flash games, back before flash was exploded. Links applied if y'all are interested and have a way to play old flash games Cyrene: Snow White

Olli: Tokyo Mew Mew cc

Pastel: W.I.T.C.H. maker v2

Roura: Happiness Charge Precure

Tried my hand at drawing again. It's been years since I had the inspiration to draw, but I was really feeling it yesterday. I did cheat a little by tracing over the general shape of an anime girl in a drawing how-to book I have, but the outfit, hair, and eye details are my doing.

I started by referencing the picture I traced to refine the details, then used inkpens for the outline. I smudged the eye a little but it's fine, I'm fine, I'm not mad about it. The hands turned out better than I expected.

Colored with colored pencils and shaded with graphite. Smudged the eye some more, but IT'S FINE.

The coloration was tough because the paper was kinda grainy, and I didn't wanna push too hard on the pencils. Overall I'm pretty happy with how she looks. It took a couple days from start to finish, but it was a lot of fun. Turns out art is fun, who could have guessed?

Buckle up, kiddos. We got a long post.

I was going through a box of old school stuff. Found a folder full of old artworks, and now I shall dump them upon the internet. This one's about keyblades.

Way back in 2005, my best friend introduced me to a little game called Kingdom Hearts 2. I had no idea what a Kingdom Hearts was, why there were two of them, or why there were so many Disney characters. But I became o b s e s s e d with the game. I played it constantly every day after school, and all day on the weekends. I introduced all of my cousins to it, and they became varying levels of obsessed as well.

My favorite part was the cool Keyblade designs. So like any artsy kid obsessed with a cool thing, I drew my own. The original page was ripped and stained, so I spent some time redrawing it on fresh paper. It's slightly higher quality than the original, so... There's that.

I got stuck on one of the bosses. Turns out I was pretty bad at the game lmao. After hours of frustration, I gave up on the game entirely and it collected dust for years. But my obsession continued, and I consumed all the Kingdom Hearts knowledge I could fit into my little goblin brain.

A few years ago, my boyfriend and I were obsessing over KH together, and we ended up designing a keyblade together. It's got a formchange, 'cause I thought that was the coolest idea ever.

The text on the Zodiac Moon Bow page says "Form change of Aimless Knight. Stars change color to reflect the element of arrows in use"

Anyways, this concludes my long post about keyblades. If you made it this far, I love you. Mwah

A chicken in a firework pattern coat. Drawn way back in early high school.

The character is Chinese (simplified) for Chicken, but I'm not sure if how accurate the shape of the lines and such are.

Origin of the Nameless Wretch

The country of Summerland had a very deceptively warm name. In truth, it was a frozen place, further north than any other forms of civilization could go. The country only had a name because the scholars needed something to call it by, and saying “the frozen northern wasteland” was too much of a mouthful. There were only two seasons: winter, and deeper winter. One might assume that, with all this harsh freezing cold, nothing could possibly live here. In any other place, this would be true… But in Summerland, the earth was saturated with life-giving energy. Queen Haelyssa, the Mad Dragon, had been buried there, miles beneath the earth for thousands of years. Her magic had permeated the soil, creating a large expanse of land where only the lightest dusting of snow would fall and the wind blew in gentle breezes. There was plant life abound, lush green powdered with a thin layer of white, the plants sustained and protected from deadly cold by the magic. Even after the Mad Dragon escaped her subterranean tomb and flew off, Summerland's little oasis remained. Botanist Heather Snow heard rumors of the oasis while in the Dragonlands. A cheerful half-dragon man had shared the rumor with her one warm festival night. Unable to resist the allure of extraordinary plants to study, she pleaded her case to the council in charge of funding expeditions. With their approval, Heather assembled a team of scientists, escort soldiers, and a guide. They reached the oasis with some injuries, mostly frostbite, but no casualties. The group camped in the oasis, and all was well for the first few days…

Then soldiers began to go missing during the long nights.

Once the soldiers were gone, scientists went missing as well, until all that remained was Heather and two assistants. Terrified out of their minds, the trio attempted to flee, but the predator finally revealed himself. Their guide--now a massive frost dragon--blocked their escape, killing one of the assistants while Heather and the second assistant fled to their shelter. The dragon gleefully tore into the shelter, killing the other assistant and gravely wounding Heather. The shelter was torn from the ground, along with massive clumps of dirt and plants, and Heather was flung to the ground while the dragon feasted on the assistants’ bodies. As she lay in the dirt, shivering, bleeding out through lethal claw marks across her torso, Heather begged for help... Help, please... Please... A being came to her, a fever dream of a woman with white hair and silver eyes and cold skin. The being offered her a deal, granting her strength and life everlasting, in exchange for just a few old memories and the soul of an evil creature. Desperate, Heather agreed, and the deal was made. Heather rose, her wounds already healed, her body vibrating with power. With a mighty scream, she snatched a broken pole from the ruined shelter, using it to spear the beast right in its roaring mouth. As it trashed and roared in pain, she grabbed the beast by the jaws, hands on top, feet braced on the bottom, pushing and stretching. Its teeth tore through her hands and feet. It hurt, but the pain didn’t stop her. The beast’s saliva was frigid, but the cold was nothing to her. She pushed, pushed, pushed, until its bottom jaw and part of its throat was ripped clean away. The gaping wound baptized Heather in a spray of freezing dragon blood. The beast was slain, and Heather collapsed in the dirt once more. When she awoke, she was no longer in the Summerland oasis, but instead on the border of the nearest country... Her limbs still burned with power, and her clothes were soaked, frozen stiff by her blood and the dragon’s. She was strong now, stronger than anything she had ever known... But strangely enough, she could no longer recall her own name... The Deal Maker had taken all memory of her name, but the powerful woman didn't mind too much. What was a name when one could rip a dragon's jaw off with simple brute strength? She began to wander. She had no home now, nowhere in mind to go… But she had a mission: seek out an evil creature to finish out her end of the bargain. She was quick to make a name for herself--the Nameless Wretch--working for whoever hired her, killing whoever she was paid to... Forever seeking the most evil being she could find. She wanted it to be a special gift for the Deal Maker, an extra special thank you for this new power...

Baby Suicune I drew ages ago instead of listening to a lecture in middle school. I'm sure I didn't miss anything important

Dawn Breakers: Masterminds

Dawn Breakers

A species of artificial beings, created by Desideria, the Dark Goddess. There are several subspecies, all created with specific purposes. They are formed from various materials, crafted with dark magic, and sustained by Desideria's own life force.

Masterminds

A subspecies of Dawn Breakers that take the form of little girls. They all feature blue skin and purple hair. There are seven of them in total, and each Mastermind is accompanied by a living doll referred to as a Big Sister. The girls are physically and mentally around the age of 11 to 13, while the dolls range from 16 to 40 in age. Each doll is unique, tailor-made to suit each girl they are assigned to.

Their original purpose was to be disguised as human children and sent out into the world to cause chaos... But Desideria was charmed by her own creations, and decided to simply keep them as her adorable children. They currently reside in their own pocket dimension, safe from any harm, and spend their time doing whatever they want.

Left to right: Wisp, Kazunomiya, Hayden, Joy, Phyra, Courtney

Wisp is fascinated by mummies. Ever since she saw a movie featuring mummies, she wants to be one. She would go through dozens of rolls of toilet paper for her costumes, until Desideria gifted her a set of bandages to use for mummy dress up. She's starting to leave the mummy-love phase, but she still wears the bandages sometimes.

Kazunomiya, named after the Japanese empress. Not for any significant reason, but because Wisp really liked the name. Despite the shallow reason behind her name, Kazunomiya learned how speak Japanese, and often sings Wisp to sleep with Japanese lullabies.

Hayden loves candy. She's learning how to make her own candy, but she's not quite good at it yet. So for now, she travels out of the pocket dimension every few weeks and buys as much candy as she can carry. Probably best not to ask where she gets the money, though.

Joy is modeled after a nurse, mostly as an aesthetic choice... But as Hayden practices making candy, it helps that the doll knows first aid. She treats all the burned fingers and cut hands that come along with learning a new cooking skill. She has to remind Hayden to brush her teeth nearly every day.

Made with a web-based game that no longer exists. I don't remember the name of it, unfortunately.

The Mystery Circus

It was a once-in-a-year event. For one week only, the Mystery Circus settled on the outskirts of Bay Cove, a bustling city on the coast of the ocean.

Previously it was a sleepy little fishing town, until the day that a woman approached the mayor with a deal. Her circus would come to their town, set up shop on the outskirts for a week, then leave. The mayor was hesitant of course--a circus was unlikely to do well in such a small place, and Bay Cove was hardly equipped to deal with tourists--but the woman offered an obscene amount of money as compensation. So a deal was struck, and for that one week, the circus seemingly appeared overnight. The tourist population swelled to insane numbers, quickly overloading the small town’s only motel.

After a few years of consistently renewing the deal, the city council created an entirely new section to the city, dubbed Tourist Town, complete with hotels and gift shops and typical tourist-stuff. Most of Tourist Town was only open from the week leading up to Circus Week and closed the week after, but it still brought in an unfathomable amount of money...

No one knows why Bay Cove was the city of choice for the Mystery Circus... Did it really matter? It always showed up in the second week of May, always on a Friday, and it stayed for exactly seven days before vanishing again... The huge circus showed up like magic, simply not-there one day and there the next, and even the curious souls who tried to spy on the designated circus grounds had yet to see how the circus showed up. Anyone attempting to watch were caught and chased off by security guards, sent home with nothing but a stern warning to show for their effort.

Most of the food and game stands were run by locals. Flyers for jobs would appear during the month leading up to the circus, and anyone could apply to work there, but even the temporary employees weren't told the secrets of the circus... The rides were run by women who appeared and disappeared with the circus, but everything else was operated entirely by those who signed up for the jobs. The pay was great, well above minimum wage, and the temp workers were allowed to enjoy all the attractions for free.

Mystery Circus was renowned for its wide range of attractions. It had a large selection of carnival rides, from roller coasters to haunted houses, a large kiddie land to a giant ferris wheel. There was a section the size of a city block dedicated to carnival games of all types, an arcade, and two food courts with individual food stands scattered throughout the grounds. In the center of the circus was the main attraction, Big Top Tent, a massive tent made of rainbow-striped silk fabric that housed all the animal and people acts.

Oh, and another thing that made Mystery Circus so special... A large number of the animal acts were performed by monsters... There were normal animals too, but somehow Mystery Circus had over a dozen different types of monsters under their employ. You won't find that in any other circus.

"How tragic of the fate of the lover who was left behind..."

Gonna slap a big ol' trigger warning on this one.

TW: Repeated mentions of death and suicide. Nothing is written in explicit detail, but it is mentioned multiple times towards the end of the story.

So, for those who are curious but don't want to read the story, I'll provide a safe lil' blurb up here :)

Basically, I was inspired by the autosave mechanic in Skyrim (which I've been playing an unhealthy amount of lately). I began to wonder, what would it be like if a character actually experienced going back in time after dying. I ended up writing a pretty extensive story based on such a character; the condensed version of said story is what you'll see below. It's set in the world of Skyrim.

Also I was inspired by "Left Behind" by Reinaeiry. Idk, it's pretty good imo

Anyways enough rambling

Despite being born to a family of accomplished and well-respected mages, Mynarae had little interest in magic and mages. Her passion lied in alchemy, which she had practiced since she was old enough to read and stand at an alchemy table. She was content to craft potions for use by her family, or to sell to other upper-class families, until she learned of the White Phial. Fascinated by the alchemical artifact, she left home to travel to Skyrim in search of it. After learning that its location was unknown, she gave up quickly, but remained in Skyrim to collect as many of the unique alchemical ingredients as she could carry.

During her stay in Skyrim, she settled in Markarth, then began formulating an immortality elixir. Not for any specific reason, but to simply see if she could. The new ingredients provided the creative spark she needed to devise the formula. After years of work, she believed she had finally created the immortality elixir, but held on to it for the time being. There was only one dose, after all, and she did not want to waste it. Her journey and success was shared with a friend she’d made at the local inn, who expressed great interest in her creation.

Shortly after sharing her success, Mynarae was out to gather ingredients in the wilds, when she was accosted by a bandit group. Her “friend” was among them, having told the group about the elixir, and the bandits demanded to have it or they would kill her and take it. Refusing to give up her work, Mynarae fled from the group, drinking the elixir as she went. Enraged, the bandits attempted to kidnap her instead. Too proud to allow herself to be captured and trusting her own elixir to work properly, Mynarae threw herself off a cliff into the river to escape.

She died upon impact against the rocks in the river.

Mynarae found herself back at her rented room in Markarth, just before she shared her success with her friend. Though bewildered at first, she quickly realized that rather than becoming immortal, the elixir had sent her back a brief amount of time. Armed with knowledge of the future, she severed all ties in Markarth, then set off to return home. During the journey home, she joined a caravan, where she met a man named Sidduk, a fellow alchemist. The two bonded over their shared interests, sharing notes and recipes, and grew close enough to fall in love. She decided to move to a little farm with Sidduk, where they would grow their own ingredients…

Then, one day, Mynarae created an elixir that exploded, killing her and Sidduk in the process. She was transported back in time, and averted the disaster. Then Sidduk died from illness, and Mynarae killed herself to go back and cure him. He later died from inhaling toxic alchemical fumes. She killed herself to save him.

He was mauled by wild dogs while tending the farm. Then he was crushed when a support beam gave out and collapsed the roof. Was murdered by a thief while going to town for supplies. Chased by a sabrecat that wandered onto their property. Burned alive when he accidentally spilled flammable liquid onto the fireplace. Got sick again.

Mynarae grew increasingly desperate to save him from ever dying, while becoming desensitized to the act of suicide. She had to save him. HAD TO SAVE HIM!

Then, one morning, she awoke to find that he had left the farm, leaving only a letter. Sidduk had noticed her abrupt shift into a feverish state, and was going to fetch a healer. She chased after her love, only to find his lifeless body amid the wild grasses, torn apart by wolves. Distraught, Mynarae killed herself again…

And woke up in bed. Sidduk’s letter was on the bedside table. No matter how many times she went back, she woke up in the bed every time. No matter how fast she ran to catch up, he was already dead when she found him.

Sidduk was gone.

All her work to save him, only to drive him right into the jaws of death with her behavior, and now he was gone forever.

The grief never truly went away, but it eased slightly after a few months. She buried his body on the farm, then tended to the crops for a while. Sidduk would have been sad if the farm went to ruins, she told herself. He would have wanted her to carry on. She just had to carry on… Until one night months later, Mynarae realized that there would never be an escape from the hell she was now living. If the elixir simply sent her back in time when she died, then she would never know peace. She would never join Sidduk in the afterlife.

Something snapped in Mynarae at that moment.

The grief melted away, replaced by fury and a deep-seated resolve. How dare her own creation treat her this way! She created the elixir, so she would create another that would break the effect! No one would keep her away from Sidduk! Not even her own past actions!

Mynarae became obsessed with finding or formulating a cure. Gone were thoughts of taking care of herself. She would eat just enough to not starve, sleep just enough to keep her mind sharp, protect herself just long enough to gather as many alchemy ingredients as necessary. She couldn’t afford any setbacks. There was too much to do.

She had to find a way to kill herself for good.

Latsu Villeforte, maker of beautiful dresses and causer of 70% of her stepmother's headaches.

I've been obsessing over this particular character of mine for weeks so prepare for lots of info dumping about her and all related stuff.

Made in LoveNikki

The de' Villeforte daughters

(Made with Fairytale Maiden by Azalea's Dolls)

Latsu de' Villeforte is the younger daughter of the noble Villeforte family. Her hobbies include dressmaking, daydreaming, and fighting with her stepmother. She suffers from seizures, yet no doctor or mage has been able to uncover the underlying cause of them. As a result, more superstitious people spread rumors that she is possessed. Latsu herself leans into the rumors, worsening perception of herself on purpose by acting out in public. This has led to her poor reputation and nickname of "The Devil Child".

(Made with Celtic Princess by Azalea's Dolls)

Carmana de' Villeforte is the eldest daughter, and Latsu's half-sister. Though only four years older, Carmana is the only mother figure Latsu has ever known. As Merciana de' Villeforte's only child, Carmana is under a lot of pressure to be the perfect lady. She is extremely adept at all "lady-like" activities, such as embroidery, playing the harp, running a household, and socializing with other nobles. Despite her golden reputation and radiant beauty, she has steadfastly refused all suitors, which drives her mother mad. She is Latsu's model for all her handmade dresses, proudly wearing exclusively her sister's creations.

Merciana was a patient person. As a noble and a woman, patience was a requirement for survival in the cutthroat world of upper society. She prided herself on her patience and on her ability to maintain a polite, demure facade no matter the massive annoyance she faced.

But Latsu? The child had made it her life's mission to push every button the woman had. For fifteen years, her stepdaughter had made every waking moment a chore. For fifteen years, Merciana was forced to live with the constant reminder of her inadequacy. It roamed the halls of her home. It ate her food; slept in a room on the same hall as her; demanded attention from her daughter and husband.

Her husband... Merciana could barely remember a time when she loved the man. It felt simultaneously like eons ago and just yesterday that she was a child herself, swept up in the beautiful promises of a glamorous wedding and a dignified life. He had been poor back then. Son of a baker, apprentice of a merchant, barely three steps above destitute. But, oh, he was so handsome... Merciana's family was firmly middle-class, and Nanny often took her to the general store where he worked. They were the same age. He whispered in her ear that she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

Merciana often wondered how many girls he'd said such things to. How many before her? How many after her?

Mother and Father would never have agreed to her marriage to such a poor boy... But Mother died of fever when Merciana was fourteen. When she was sixteen, Father was mauled during a sport hunt, and died of poisoned blood. Merciana's elder brother oversaw her care for four more years, and he was far more lenient about her marriage.

Merciana became engaged to Ferdinand when they were seventeen. Then her brother died, and the two were wed a week after Merciana's twentieth birthday.

People whispered disapprovingly, of course. They married too young--they were not engaged for long enough. A proper lady should be engaged at fifteen, then married at twenty-five. A proper lady should marry equal or above her station. A proper lady this, a proper lady that. Merciana had hated the whispering and staring.

Ferdinand blessed her with a baby after three years of trying and failing. He wanted a girl; she couldn't care less if it was a boy or girl. Carmana was born, and they both rejoiced. Merciana loved her baby with every ounce of her being. Carmana was precious, beautiful, perfect...

Merciana loved her baby so much that she failed to notice how distant her husband was becoming. He became absorbed in his work, expanding their family's influence and wealth, pouring every waking second into his work. What few moments he took for himself, he dedicated to drinking. With drinking came women. With women came more moments away from work. With more moments, more drink, more women, more moments...

She knew about it, of course. She may have been involved in caring for her baby, but Merciana was no fool. She knew what was happening, but it still stung when he rejected her martial advances in favor of barmaids and working girls. She begged him for another child, but he steadfastly refused. Too busy, he always said. Not enough time for another baby.

Then Latsu showed up.

A priestess came to their door early one day, a baby in one arm, a note in her other hand. The baby was Ferdinand's, given up because the mother refused to keep her. Ferdinand took the baby in, gave her a name, and oversaw her care himself. Where Carmana's care was Merciana's domain, Latsu was solely her father's responsibility. Merciana agreed it was for the best. Why should she care for--or about--the product of her once-beloved husband's foolish behavior?

He did not even know the mother's name.

Merciana couldn't care less.

The child would not be her problem.

Requiem of the Queens

My people are lost, Ivory thought to herself. Gods help us, they’re all going to die.

The screams of her people mingled with the acrid stink of burning flesh and sulfur, drifting up to the palace on the wind. She had awoken to her guards shouting for her to rise, but the stench of demonic fumes would have roused her shortly anyways. In mere seconds, Ivory had risen up from her bed, her pleasant slumber shattered by the urgency filling the air. With nary a thought to covering her nightgown or donning her slippers, Ivory had raced out of the bedroom and down the hall, yelling for someone to report what was happening.

A soldier--Roderick, she remembered faintly--informed her that demons had been summoned from a sudden crack in the city square. The fissure opened into a pit deep below the capital city, and from within, vile beats of all shapes and sizes poured out from within. As they raced down the stairs together, Roderick detailed in a breathless, hurried tone how the people were being slaughtered in their homes, while soldiers were initially overwhelmed by the unforeseen threat. 

Only now, as her thoughts came into sharp focus, did Ivory realize something else was amiss. When she woke, her wife was not in bed. Had Aleja woken earlier and gone to tend the children? Was she in the library? Or, Gods forbid, was she out there somewhere? Aleja often wandered the late-night streets when she felt restless. Gripped with icy fear, Ivory commanded Roderick to take his comrades and find her wife and children. Vilante and Aurora were likely to be in the nursery, but Aleja could be anywhere. They must find Aleja before the demons do!

Roderick turned to run off, his men close behind. Ivory resumed her run to her personal armory alone. There, her handmaidens were waiting, their deft hands removing her nightgown and garbing her in armored clothing instead. It had been years since Ivory needed full armor, but her handmaidens were still as practiced and swift in their movements. As the last belt was tightened, Ivory grabbed her sword from its stand. A maid stood by with her shield, allowing Ivory a moment to slip her arm into the straps and pull them tight.

And with that, she was running again.

Roderick ran past her, carrying two children in his arms. Aurora was sobbing, reaching for Ivory as they passed by, but Vilante was thankfully fast asleep despite the commotion. The infant could sleep through anything… Ivory dared not stop, but as Aurora was carried away, she called out, “Be brave, Aurora, and watch over Vin! Mama will come back for you! I swear!”

Aurora began to scream for her Mama as Roderick carried her out of sight. Ivory’s heart broke in two, but for now, she had to ignore it. The soldier would hide her children safely underground with the rest of the palace residents who couldn’t fight. They would be safe. They have to be safe.

As Ivory took her first step outside, she was nearly overwhelmed by it all. The smell was so strong that she felt immediately nauseous, and the noise crashed against her ears like a hellish cacophony… But none of that mattered now. Ivory forced her senses to focus on the task before her. With a mighty howl, she charged forth, sword and shield brandished, and she began to fight.

The Storm Strikes A Village

You are a child. Young enough to still naively believe in whatever your parents tell you, but old enough to look around and notice the way the people in your village are. Everyone is tired, overworked, underfed, bordering on destitute. If the crop fields ever failed, the village would be ruined.

Despite this, you are friends with the other children. You all play in the fields while the adults smoke and unwind from a long day of farming. You have a hard life, but it's still a good life. It's all you've ever known, so maybe you're a bit biased.

Then soldiers begin marching through. They're all clad in armor. Even the horses wear armor. They troop through the village, following the twisty, dusty road that cuts through the ramshackle buildings. Sometimes the soliders set up camp for the night by the road. You and your friends are warned to stay away, but you're all too curious. Some soldiers mention that they're off to fight The Storm, but other soldiers hush them sharply. To mention The Storm is to bring calamity upon them.

You ask your parents. They have no idea what The Storm is. They tell you it just means a really big storm, like the thunderstorms that roll through during summer. You believe them.

More soldiers come and go. Eventually there are no more soldiers, and everyone forgets quickly. There are crops to tend to, after all.

Then it begins to rain.

The rain is not clean and fresh, like a refreshing kiss upon the dry land.

The rain is hot, and dark, and red. The rain stinks of sulfur and blood. The rain makes you feel sick.

Soldiers are coming again. This time they're coming from the opposite way. They are more tired than the villagers. Most of the horses are skinny and limping, struggling to pull carts piled high with blanket-covered lumps. The soldiers' armor is dented, dirty, stained by the rain and smeared with damp soot. The villagers are avoiding the rain, but the soldiers don't bother. They're already dripping and drenched.

The ground starts rumbling constantly after a while. It started off small, barely perceptible. But now, it's so strong that your bones rattle. Your head hurts and your tongue aches from being bitten by your chattering teeth. Mother fell and hurt her knee because of the trembling, and she looks seasick from laying in bed.

The shaking ground intensifies so much that cracks appear in the muddy ground. People are falling in, breaking legs or twisting limbs. Eventually everyone just stays inside to wait it out. What else can they do?

You're sitting at the window, making faces at your friend, who sits in her own window across the alleyway. The rumbling is so strong that your vision is vibrating, but you're determined to ignore it in favor of your silly game. So determined, in fact, that you nearly miss the shambling figure coming up the road.

It's a soldier, a straggler from the group that came before. He looks... Wrong. His armor is strangely liquid, silvery metal mixing with the muddy red rain. Your young brain struggles to comprehend that the man is being melted by the rain. His skin bubbles and sizzles, steam rising off his body, and the metal mixes with the goopy flesh that sloughs off his bones.

Someone else has noticed the soldier. Faintly, you hear screaming, then more screaming, then more. People are staring in horror from the windows as the soldier collapses in the street, unable to shamble further. The rain has melted too much of his body. All that remains are bones, strangely untouched, while the rest of him spreads in a pool of ugly liquid gore.

Then Mother starts screaming. You finally break away from the gruesome scene through the window. You run to your parents' room, ready to ask what's wrong.

The roof has begun to leak, right into Mother's side of the bed.

Gierra, the Wolf

An automaton built to lead an army of other automatons, until the day she was put in stasis for routine maintenance. When she next awoke, three centuries had passed, and her home lay in overgrown ruins around her.

She had been awakened by a band of explorers, all of whom were promptly slaughtered for trespassing. She found another of her kind still intact and revived her as well, and the two would guard the ruined city-state for a decade, massacring anyone foolish enough to attempt plundering it for riches. During one such attempted theft, an underground chamber was revealed, the dusty air choking the thieves long enough for Gierra to dispatch them. Within the chamber, she found only a mask depicting a beautiful woman's face, the eyes obscured by silver cobwebs. Rather than return the mask to its display case, Gierra decided to keep it with her. Something compelled her to keep it close.

Gierra began to have thoughts. Not directives from long-dead rulers, not logical conclusions based on machine learning, but thoughts. She wondered about the world beyond the city-state's crumbling walls. Was the world outside still ruled by wise old women? Do they still worship the goddesses in the proper manner?

One day... Gierra simply left. Abandoned her duty, abandoned her comrade, abandoned the only home she'd ever had. Beyond the walls was a vast jungle, full of life. Beyond the jungle lay other cities, brimming with people. So much noise and color was nearly overwhelming after so many years surrounded by dust and greenery.

Then she began to notice things that undercut the dazzling display of this new world. Old women were left sick and shivering in alleyways. Women were forced to wear constricting, heavy clothing that covered every inch of their bodies and hair. Girls were forbidden to run and play with boys. Young women were leered at while they cowered away. Everywhere, men carried swords and ran shops and enjoyed themselves with working women and alcohol.

The first time Gierra encountered a man beating his wife, she was so appalled that she broke into the house and ripped the man apart. To her surprise, the woman began to scream in terror, calling for help, and Gierra was chased out of town by soldiers attempting to arrest her. She did not understand why the woman feared her, when Gierra had just saved her from such unjust abuse.

It was now that the mask began to whisper to her. It informed her that the female-dominated ways of her old life were long past, and men had taken over, subjugating women so thoroughly that they couldn't fathom being able to fight back. The mask revealed to her that this new world was full of such societies, where women suffered and died at the hands of men. The news infuriated Gierra.

From that day forward, she vowed to use her strength to protect women whenever she could. While her physical limitations meant that not all could be saved, perhaps her efforts could spark others to do the same.

Gierra donned the mask, allowing the whispering voice to guide her, and she began her crusade.

Another piece of old art I found floating about in the nebulous ether of my storage boxes.

I was obsessed with Bioshock when it first came out, but I totally forgot about it in the years since. Maybe I'll go back and play it someday.

Text on the side are lyrics from Little Sister by miracleofsound, and read:

"This child is my savior

My reason to be

I walk through the water

With my only friend

A lumbering hulk

Beside a delicate flower

A gentle Leviathan

Of terrible power"