i'm not sure what i believe. sometimes i do. sometimes not. it's also just easier to assign humanistic qualities to natural disasters.
the story goes that the sun loved the moon deeply. but she did not return his love. he chased her every day and every night she fled from him.
with time, the moon drove the sun to madness for want of her with no way to keep her. he chased and he chased and he chased until he was too fast even for her. then he caught her. begged her. pleaded with her. promised her all in his domain if she would just be with him always.
she did not love him. she would not stay with him.
and so he killed her in his anger. her blood bathed the earth in red. he collected it into a well that he hid deep beneath the earth so her light that would never shine again would be preserved in the peace of the dark.
( and too blighted with familiarity. forces destined to destroy one another. the obsessive prison of a powerful man's love. setting fire to the object of your desire, rather than allowing her to squirm out from beneath your thumb. no different than aleksander, who would make her the maiden in a minotaur's labyrinth, and call it a gift. a kindness.
nausea sloshes in alina's stomach, churning like seasick-waves. )
He never gave her a real choice. But I suppose a cage looks like love to powerful men.
What happened to their worshippers? They all died out?
it's not quite clear what worship was like and what happened to it immediately after the loss of our sun and moon.
but there were people who believed in it enough. humans desperate for whatever power the blood of a goddess would bestow upon them.
humans learned of the well where her blood spilled. so they studied and traveled and scavenged the location of the beautiful nocturnal fountain. then they tainted it with their dirtied hands and their venomous greed. so Nocturna gave them what they desired. power. hunger. blood.
And that's why your kind can't stand sunlight, isn't it? You're cursed to be weak to the same monster that killed her. It's poetic revenge. I might've done the same, if I found no peace even in death.
( if she wasn't convinced such greed led to the collapse of his world, a ripple of consequences like a stone dropped in a lake ... well. )
i can't say i fault her if the gods really were real.( in fact, vampires usually tell the story that their wishes were granted. they were gifted power. Lexi can't shake the feeling of desecration that led to the creation of his kind. )
i don't mind the question. to make a vampire, you drain them of all blood then feed them your own until nearly dead yourself. then the new vampire needs to feed within the first six hours of creation. essentially to jumpstart their new body with the proper nutrition to sustain it
but there's another way to do so, as well. i mentioned to you my house and bloodline, yes? normal vampires don't concern themselves with those distinctions as much. i'm a lineaged vampire. my sireline can be traced back to one of those original humans. all other houses in the palace are the same. they trace their lines directly to those first humans.
but it's not just through creation, it's through a particular ritualistic creation that passes on the strength, sometimes even memories, of their lineage. it has to be done by an already lineages vampire. and it involves draining, then leaving the body on an altar beneath a clear red sky with no barrier between both for a full day cycle. then continuing as normal.
( why you? she thinks, but doesn't type. that feels like a more intrusive question, on par with wriggling through a personal diary, between two relative strangers. acquaintances, on a good day. )
I don't understand. You would think they would want to hoard their power, rather than share it. Why create children who might threaten your rule?
All of it. But the murder part, particularly. You make it sound like you're all out to kill each other. I don't know about you, but I like my head where it is.
we're not all contemplating murder all the time.( kind of funny thought, though. )but it's irresponsible as leaders of a kingdom not to be prepared for the worst.
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but admittedly, i am curious. it's why i'm reading about artemis and apollo. and anything else related to the sun and moon.
and why i nearly live in the library :)
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Part of you must believe your gods were once real, then.
How did they die?
cw: murder/suicide discussions
the story goes that the sun loved the moon deeply. but she did not return his love. he chased her every day and every night she fled from him.
with time, the moon drove the sun to madness for want of her with no way to keep her. he chased and he chased and he chased until he was too fast even for her. then he caught her. begged her. pleaded with her. promised her all in his domain if she would just be with him always.
she did not love him. she would not stay with him.
and so he killed her in his anger. her blood bathed the earth in red. he collected it into a well that he hid deep beneath the earth so her light that would never shine again would be preserved in the peace of the dark.
then he killed himself in his shame.
cw: murder/suicide discussions continued
( and too blighted with familiarity. forces destined to destroy one another. the obsessive prison of a powerful man's love. setting fire to the object of your desire, rather than allowing her to squirm out from beneath your thumb. no different than aleksander, who would make her the maiden in a minotaur's labyrinth, and call it a gift. a kindness.
nausea sloshes in alina's stomach, churning like seasick-waves. )
He never gave her a real choice.
But I suppose a cage looks like love to powerful men.
What happened to their worshippers? They all died out?
no subject
it's not quite clear what worship was like and what happened to it immediately after the loss of our sun and moon.
but there were people who believed in it enough. humans desperate for whatever power the blood of a goddess would bestow upon them.
humans learned of the well where her blood spilled. so they studied and traveled and scavenged the location of the beautiful nocturnal fountain. then they tainted it with their dirtied hands and their venomous greed. so Nocturna gave them what they desired. power. hunger. blood.
and that's how vampires came to be in our world.
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You're cursed to be weak to the same monster that killed her.
It's poetic revenge. I might've done the same, if I found no peace even in death.
( if she wasn't convinced such greed led to the collapse of his world, a ripple of consequences like a stone dropped in a lake ... well. )
Is it rude to ask how you were made?
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i don't mind the question. to make a vampire, you drain them of all blood then feed them your own until nearly dead yourself. then the new vampire needs to feed within the first six hours of creation. essentially to jumpstart their new body with the proper nutrition to sustain it
but there's another way to do so, as well. i mentioned to you my house and bloodline, yes? normal vampires don't concern themselves with those distinctions as much. i'm a lineaged vampire. my sireline can be traced back to one of those original humans. all other houses in the palace are the same. they trace their lines directly to those first humans.
but it's not just through creation, it's through a particular ritualistic creation that passes on the strength, sometimes even memories, of their lineage. it has to be done by an already lineages vampire. and it involves draining, then leaving the body on an altar beneath a clear red sky with no barrier between both for a full day cycle. then continuing as normal.
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( why you? she thinks, but doesn't type. that feels like a more intrusive question, on par with wriggling through a personal diary, between two relative strangers. acquaintances, on a good day. )
I don't understand. You would think they would want to hoard their power, rather than share it.
Why create children who might threaten your rule?
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That doesn't sound like a very good trade deal.
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You make it sound like you're all out to kill each other.
I don't know about you, but I like my head where it is.
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Your house spent decades waiting for an assassination attempt, from the sound of it.