stolengood‌:

                The very ground ached underneath her hooves as she walked through the devastation that had raked through the earth. It told her of the lives that had all lived here before, and how each one now left a hollow, aching feeling that nearly overwhelmed her. Soraka felt her own heart tremble with grief in her chest, finding herself wanting to settle on her knees and grieve each life that had been so carelessly thrown to the end here. She wouldn’t have the time to do so, though, as this path continued, and she tread along it slowly. 

                At the end of all the destruction was a sleeping mountain of a creature that Soraka only knew in passing; he was old, his existence something of a legend among the mortals nowadays, and his wrath knew no end. In the petals of the grove she had watched the mournful fall of the Shuriman empire, the fissures that opened to the void, the creeping claws of havoc that settled as demons among the earth. She had never encountered him during her time among mortals until now, and in some ways, she supposes this is a fateful meeting. 

                Her hands clutch her staff, staring up at the slumbering darkin, and even for someone whose hands were so red with blood she felt a measure of sympathy. It was in her nature to do so, to always feel for every living being. 

                “Is this all your doing?” she called out to him, knowing very well what the answer was.

                as far as soraka’s new lore goes, i am incorporating a majority of it, however i am keeping a lot of my own development as well. rather than a fall from grace so to speak, soraka willingly descended from the grove to live among the mortals. she sought to guide them, but among them she saw the infinite potential they had, and she came to love that aspect in them. she decided it too needed to be protected. soraka lives among mortals as a seer and guide, offering her healing powers and guidance to those who seek her out, but she does seek to truly control their path as she once thought she had to. 

                since leaving the grove, though, soraka’s powers are not as vast as they once were. she was an incredibly powerful divine being when she still lived in the grove, and as consequence for leaving, her appearance has shifted to like it is now ( i have stated before that she can be mistaken for vastayan, which she often is by humans, but most vastayan would probably recognize her as divine / not entirely one of them ). soraka’s true form is hardly comprehensible to mortals as she was pure unbridled cosmic light and stardust; long hair that seems to flow infinitely, a third eye where her horn is on her physical form, wide eyes with no iris or pupil, constantly shifting cosmic energy moving over her in patterns like the markings on her body. at times, its possible for other cosmic beings to see a glimpse of her true form when she is exerting a lot of her power. 

                her powers remain very strong, though. she still has a connection with the stars and they still speak to her, telling her the many millions of paths that stretch out into the future like a spiders web, and soraka can still call upon them. she’s an incredibly powerful being, but simple choses to live simply and modestly, moving among humans as a gentle guide, living an almost nomadic lifestyle. as a once-celestial, she doesn’t have the same bodily needs; she doesn’t truly tire or hunger, but indulges in those activities anyway. she also still, to some degree, retains a sort of half-immortality. soraka can potentially live forever, but her body can be mortally wounded and she would die. it is unknown what would happen to her, the cosmos, or the stars if she died, but it is certain that access to the celestial grove would be lost forever if she did. it is worth noting, though, that her body is incredibly durable and she can withstand far greater wounds than a mortal.

               The Starchild’s fingers brush along the thick, dark leaves of the undergrowth that surrounds her; she can feel the earth human beneath her, whispers from the grass and leaves to tell her what had happened here, who had been here. She can feel the faint warmth of a man and his daughter who had passed through this forest two fays ago. There were a pair of birds nesting in the tree she stood under, a fox and her kits had slept here a night ago. She felt the hum of all life as it moved and breathed, she could see the paths that had lead them here, and she could see the outstretched paths before them that diverged into webs of possibility.

                For now, she followed the path that would lead her to the Kinkou and the Eye of Twilight. The night before, the stars had come to her and sung in fractured hymns, something that would sound like static or gibberish to mortal ears. They told her that the Eye of Twilight was in need of her guidance. She could feel that unrest in their life like ill tides when she listened to the stars whisper. 

                It had been so long since she had last spoken with the Eye of Twilight; each generation had always been someone Soraka had considered a friend. She had been a guide to them among the spirit realm for many centuries now, but it had been a little more than thirty years since she descended from the stars, thus leaving the Eye without her guidance. Thirty years felt minuscule to an old being such as herself, but she had learned long ago time was much different among mortals. It all felt precious, important, and their lives were so short in comparison. 

                Soraka continued along the path through the Ionian wilderness, her fingers occasionally idly brushing along the trunk of a tree, the petals of a flower, the stems of tall plants. She was retracing a map of sorts; the stars divined to her where the Kinkou where now after having been forced from their temple. She could feel a vibrant hum as she came nearer, as if she felt something calling to her. The Starchild could feel the familiar cold, calm light of the Eye as she pushed aside a branch to be greeted with the sight of a camp. It was like she was searching for a single star and there it glowed, quiet and blue. Every soul was like a star in its own right, but this one was not the Eye she had known thirty years ago— this was not Kusho, and that caused a vague worry to creep into her thoughts.