@songbirds-and-bows / songbirds-and-bows.tumblr.com
"you can't do necromancy, that's illegal" let's not conflate legality with morals here. if everyone based their actions on what's permitted by the legal system, nothing would ever change for the better. i mean, necromancy is fucked up and unethical, and i am making a vile mockery of the gods by performing it, but that has nothing to do with the law. are you gonna side with a cop against me? come on
Y’know what? Fuck you. *Plays an acoustic guitar version of your leitmotif to show you still have tenderness and care in your heart, and compassion for others*
yeah? well fuck YOU *plays a music box version of your leitmotif to show that this is your home and its comfortable and nostalgic here*
No, piss off! *plays your leitmotif with immense reverb and a toned-down synth sound to show that nostalgia can also be about loss of what never truly was, a reflection of a reflection and a false memory of a false memory*
ok, boomer. *plays your leitmotif using discordant synth bass to display your spiral into villainy after you discover that your memories were a fabricated illusion that were created just to keep you complacent, and how that information is destroying you*
How many times do I have to teach you this lesson, old man? *plays your leitmotif in harmony with my own, intensity of both changing as our climactic battle’s balance shifts back and forth, eventually leaving only one with long, low pauses to musically represent our mutual struggle to overtake the other, yet not being able to exist in full without them.*
oh, you’re going to regret that! *plays your leitmotif on piano in short, soft notes to show that you’re being worn down, and that your energy is at a low, but with a steadily rising bassline that foreshadows your upcoming second form*
battle of the bards
Does your OC know magic? Were they born with magical ability or did they train to acquire it? What is their favorite type of magic? Least favorite?
Ahhhhhhh, thank you for the questions by the way ;; <333
Koke absolutely does know magic, though she knows it as a 'Qalli thing' and not quite aware of what exactly it really is. To what she knows (because she's not a scholarly type) she can hear many different kind of songs and over the years she's learned to sing them.
Capable of being a great bard, Koke mostly finds that her songs affect people, places, or things. She can rally people to hope, or crush them with despair that they have felt in their life, though usually she wants to just listen and learn and sing people's songs.
She doesn't know a lot of other magics at all, not for trying - if it's not related to music, the Qalli has little retention of it and everything she does know is always framed around music. Given the fact she always hears music (always), the block on anything that isn't tied to music is an odd expression but means if she can't find the melody for something it's not possible for her.
What kind of person is your OC in a crisis? Are they calm and collected? Do they panic? Or are they chronically the cause?
I would love to defend Koke and say she's never the cause of a crisis but when you accidentally necromancy often enough that you might as well admit you can do that instead of 'oops it was an accident' you have to give the goose up: Koke means well but often causes or worsens problems even (and especially) if she didn't want to.
Generally if the problem isn't one she made (or worsened) Koke is pretty calm - the fact she's not even close to classically sane helps, as it's hard to feel ruffled by screaming, shouting terrors when you always hear them! She has a better time holding composure, though when she knows the problem is a result of what she did, she starts and spirals very badly and typically makes things even worse.
10. Is your OC sentimental or pragmatic? Do they keep mementos or only what they need to survive? Have they always been this way or did something happen to make them change?
Koke is that weird line walking between the two - incredibly sentimental but brutally and sometimes ruthlessly pragmatic.
She used to be entirely sentimental - down to the point where for a good few years, to cope with grief, she willingly went as insane as possible so that things would stop hurting just a little bit, enough that she could function. It took a lot of time for her to actually begin to process emotions normally again, if only because once you let yourself go like that, it is hard to claw back any semblance of sanity.
For mementos, Koke tends to keep just what she really needs, though there are forever small things that are in her bags so that if she needs to away in a moment, they're with her. A little fragment of a raen's horn, beads she keeps strung in her hair, and a bracelet made from the tail hair of her last horse. Most things she willingly would drop without any concern, except her lute and her bow, and if she needs to run there's almost no other attachment to hold her back if she has even just those two things only.
As for why Koke is like this, there was something that really happened - the ruthless side came about when she ended up, through a lot of weird times, the one left behind. Either by crush/partner (and feeling used), or tribe friends (that was a mess...), family (when server transfers had no way to keep communicating), or even friends in general, the more it piled up the more that Koke's reactions and responses went from emotionally devastated by it to being more and more willing to cut and wall herself off. She's been working to take some of those boundaries down, little by little, and care again, but caring sometimes makes her remember all the times it hurt and she still wants to get willfully lost more than a few times.
The more stressed Koke gets, the more she lets her wanderlust drive her feet and she ends up a few suns out forgetting all of how she got there but feeling better. She hasn't done that in a long time, but she wanders a lot even still, just to avoid sometimes connecting and being hurt by too many people.
1. What kind of person is your OC in a crisis? Are they calm and collected? Do they panic? Or are they chronically the cause?
2. Is your OC a loner or a social butterfly? Are they satisfied with how they come across to other people?
3. What is your OC's financial status? Are they just scraping by, making enough to live comfortably, or wealthy? Has there ever been a drastic change in their status? If so, what happened?
4. Does your OC have a failed friendship or relationship they still think about? What happened? Is it an unresolved regret or is there a chance for reconciliation?
5. Does your OC have a signature weapon and/or attack? How long did they train to master it?
6. Does your OC know magic? Were they born with magical ability or did they train to acquire it? What is their favorite type of magic? Least favorite?
7. Does your OC like their natural hair color or do they dye it? What styles do they prefer?
8. What was your OC's most embarrassing moment? Does it still bother them or are they able to shrug it off?
9. Is your OC laid back or do they thrive on drama? What role do they play in their group of friends/associates?
10. Is your OC sentimental or pragmatic? Do they keep mementos or only what they need to survive? Have they always been this way or did something happen to make them change?
11. What does your OC believe in? God(s)? Monsters? Love? The power of unbreakable bonds of friendship to overcome any obstacle? The ability of money to open any door? Or are they indifferent?
12. Is your OC cynical or optimistic? Who or what shaped their outlook on life?
13. How important are romantic relationships to your OC? Do they prefer casual sex, short flings, or long term relationships? Do they want to get married or are they content with what they have? Or do they have no interest in romance whatsoever?
14. How important is friendship to your OC? Do they prefer to have one or two close friends or a large group of casual friends? Or do they prefer their own company over that of others?
15. What places hold significant meaning or memories for your OC? Do they have a positive or negative association with those places?
16. How does your OC make money? Do they have a respectible profession or work a series of odd jobs? Are they a criminal? Or do they get creative in the pursuit of coin?
17. Does your OC have an enemy? What happened between them? Is it mutual or one-sided? Is it petty or serious? Is one party seeking revenge? Does one person want the other dead or are they content to hate them from afar?
18. Has your OC ever had a prophecy made about them? Was it a big deal or did they ignore it? Was it straightforward or cryptic? Did it ever come to pass or did they circumvent it?
19. Has your OC ever had an experience with the paranormal or the divine? What happened? Was it a one time encounter or is it a normal part of their life? Did they find it terrifying or thrilling?
20. Has your OC ever done something terrible and lied about it? Did they run away or blame someone else for it? How long did they maintain the lie and did the truth ever come out?
“Your ancestors are amazed at all your spices!”
“Your ancestors are impressed that you are an educated woman!”
“Your ancestors are proud that you are thriving in spite of what society did to them and you”
It’s all very sweet! But! Necromancy! Is! Still! Illegal! Your ancestors are going back in the ground!
Stop resurrecting them to show off!
Tara M. Stringfellow, from 'Memphis'
Text: A True name spoken can call back the dead, but names can’t be given, only guessed. The desperate and dying leave clues in their wills, hoping someone will wake them from death’s icy chill.
[ CLIMB ] for the shorter muse to find somewhere to perch so they can be eye level with taller muse. - (for Law!)
[ CLIMB ]
Roman had many names, Koke heard over the turns. Sometimes he was Roman, like when she first knew his song - wild enough that when she couldn't stand the walls of the buildings and needed to go somewhere he didn't stop her but just had pulled his hat down with a smile and laugh, following behind her quietly until the song in the air was no longer screaming.
His notes were soft, calm, soothing, aching for something and free like the wind, like the creatures that gravitated to him when he settled and asked about the music.
Sometimes Roman said things that felt like bricks and walls and steel, towering and pain and shrieking, but Koke knew how to shake that out and she would let him be silent before she found a tree and would climb up, reaching for him and grabbing his face and waiting until he came back. Some of the notes were dark, twisted and wrong and sad in ways that she could hear but didn’t draw out, instead waiting until she came back. And then the Xaela would smile, releasing him and laugh at the reaction - hyurs especially were always taken by surprise when they were grabbed, always startled when their songs snapped from pain to present and came back again.
Then he was Law. He was Outlaw. He was many things again, but all of them were constant so no matter what name he was using, the song that she called him by never changed and this time was no different. She had wanted to show him something but as the water gave way to swamp his mood had shifted, pain and loathing and wrongness in the deepest of his notes that wove beyond words into his self and Koke knew how to fix this.
It took walking again but the ground opened up to trees, to ground widened as the land firmed and Koke trilled a note that Roman, that Law had heard a thousand times before as she climbed, quickly, until when he looked up next there were simply glowing violet limbal rings, the deep violet lined in brilliant pale lilac that stared unblinking at him. She didn’t grab him - something had shifted his song and she worried this time it would hurt and scare, instead of bring him back. So instead she stared, waiting for the hyur’s expression to catch then change, lightening and then she sang a smile.
“♪There you are.♪” Her tail wrapped around the tree and she stared at him then nodded, the glint of a golden bird tucked under braided, twisted falls of hair woven with ribbons and feathers that nestled on her shoulder. “♪I worried you had wandered very far this time.♪” Now that he was seeing her, she reached out and a claw lightly tapped the brim of his hat. “♪You showed me someplace last time. How about I show you somewhere nearby, instead?♪” - (from the tol and smol prompts over on Lucien’s blog! Thank you @charm-in-spades :3 - Feel free to send one in! (sorry I’m so rusty ;; )
Lately, things had been rough. Lawrence was used to rolling with the punches, he might even say he was good at it, but the past few moons had been unrelenting and could bring any man down, even one as positive as he tried to be. He was under a constant cloud, a shadow that seemed to follow him. A heart bled every time it beat, but lately he thought he could actually feel it.
It was a particular habit of his to be focused on the company he kept when in their presence, but he found his train of thought drifting to more forlorn rails. His head was down and he was quieter as usual, always responding but not rambling as often as he tended to when he was feeling better. Even as they walked to new places, his head was low and his eyes set to the ground with only the occasional lift to take in where they were going.
The trill broke through the mire of emotion he felt himself swamped in, and his chin lifted to set his own silver rings up at the eyes that stared down at him. He grinned a little to her song, and found himself realizing what kind of company he’d been. “Aw, hell. I admit I was set adrift a bit.” He rumbles, offering the Qalli songstress a sheepish smile as she tapped his hat and pulled him out of his funk. “Shore. I’d like that a lot, actually. You lead, I’ll follow an’ you kin tell me what th’place means to ya.”
Focus. Presence. More importantly to the Xaela, her friend’s song sounded as if some of the burden on it had bled off and faded now, the surprise and startled notes easing into the smile. Tail shifted as she finally let the grip and balance hold it gave her go, Koke slid from the tree branch back to the ground in a pool of leather and fur and cloth and bangles and Lawrence would feel the tap-tap on the side of his leg when Koke moved past him with a spring in her step.
“♪Even when you go far, you still come back. It’s still you coming back. Like the wind.♪” No judgement from Koke when she turned, this time walking backwards while she sang and the wind picked up as if in echo. “♪It’s a place of cold stone and a river. A small creek and it feels like dances. It still sings them, too, but they were danced by many people and just one person is... a fragment to them. Bonfires and laughter.♪” She watched him while smiling, before turning back and waving him to a twist in the path that led down, the Qalli following it like she had walked the pathways a thousand times. “♪It’s someplace special.♪”
The sunlight dappled through the leaves and brush while the sun rose higher in the air above the canopy but with the brush and trees it was cool even as the deepest heat should have gripped the bell. And the path was old, overgrown and worn by the antelope that picked at it only with barely even a forest shrew though the gentle ambling treants seemed to see them, and let them by. And the stone... worn, old - old enough to predate Gridania, carved and covered with moss, was cool to the touch as the soft passage of a crick nearby gave way to the smell of fresh water and cool wood. Around the stone were worn and grass covered paths, moss greening the broken remnants of a wall. Then, as the circular area was visible, she turned to look at Lawrence, eyes closing and humming a few notes before her eyes opened to smile and watch him.
- @the-wanted-man
[ CLIMB ] for the shorter muse to find somewhere to perch so they can be eye level with taller muse. - (for Law!)
[ CLIMB ]
Roman had many names, Koke heard over the turns. Sometimes he was Roman, like when she first knew his song - wild enough that when she couldn't stand the walls of the buildings and needed to go somewhere he didn't stop her but just had pulled his hat down with a smile and laugh, following behind her quietly until the song in the air was no longer screaming.
His notes were soft, calm, soothing, aching for something and free like the wind, like the creatures that gravitated to him when he settled and asked about the music.
Sometimes Roman said things that felt like bricks and walls and steel, towering and pain and shrieking, but Koke knew how to shake that out and she would let him be silent before she found a tree and would climb up, reaching for him and grabbing his face and waiting until he came back. Some of the notes were dark, twisted and wrong and sad in ways that she could hear but didn’t draw out, instead waiting until she came back. And then the Xaela would smile, releasing him and laugh at the reaction - hyurs especially were always taken by surprise when they were grabbed, always startled when their songs snapped from pain to present and came back again.
Then he was Law. He was Outlaw. He was many things again, but all of them were constant so no matter what name he was using, the song that she called him by never changed and this time was no different. She had wanted to show him something but as the water gave way to swamp his mood had shifted, pain and loathing and wrongness in the deepest of his notes that wove beyond words into his self and Koke knew how to fix this.
It took walking again but the ground opened up to trees, to ground widened as the land firmed and Koke trilled a note that Roman, that Law had heard a thousand times before as she climbed, quickly, until when he looked up next there were simply glowing violet limbal rings, the deep violet lined in brilliant pale lilac that stared unblinking at him. She didn’t grab him - something had shifted his song and she worried this time it would hurt and scare, instead of bring him back. So instead she stared, waiting for the hyur’s expression to catch then change, lightening and then she sang a smile.
“♪There you are.♪” Her tail wrapped around the tree and she stared at him then nodded, the glint of a golden bird tucked under braided, twisted falls of hair woven with ribbons and feathers that nestled on her shoulder. “♪I worried you had wandered very far this time.♪” Now that he was seeing her, she reached out and a claw lightly tapped the brim of his hat. “♪You showed me someplace last time. How about I show you somewhere nearby, instead?♪” - (from the tol and smol prompts over on Lucien’s blog! Thank you @charm-in-spades :3 - Feel free to send one in! (sorry I’m so rusty ;; )
“She can still hear whispers of the wild God in her blood.”
— Clarissa Pinkola Estés, from “Women who Run with the Wolves,” c. 1992
“She was also, by the standards of other people, lost. She would not see it like that. She knew where she was, it was just that everywhere else didn’t.”
— Terry Pratchett, Equal Rites
Hermann Hesse
