Aradia lies prone in her bed, body wracked by pain and fever. Her limbs feel as if they’re made of stone - her mouth feels full of cement, and she sees as if through a tarnished glass. The visuals of this memory are blurry - humanoid shadows dart to and fro on the other side of the canopy, warbling phrases she only sometimes grasps as her mind sways with them. Bits and pieces of interaction - a maid to fetch her water, a maid to feed her, a maid to air out the sheets. A maid to wipe the sweat from her body, a maid to medicate her. A doctor to take her vitals. Bits and pieces of conversation -
“If [...] doesn’t stabilize [...] “ “[...] looking like this might [...] her, huh [...]” “[...] It’s been three [...] hasn’t [...]” “He has more important [...] than [...] daughter…”
Not a word of it is unexpected. Not a word of it is untrue. Painful as it is, cold as she is, Aradia accepts her death with dull, numb relief. If this is the course of her life, then so be it. Let what remains of their line find something greater, when the curse is dispelled.
But as her consciousness ebbs and flows, she dreams. More freely than her waking movement, more vivid than her waking vision.
Outstretched before her was a yawning, endless abyss, pierced only by the man that lay within it. Clad in motes of light floating within the pitch - myriad bubbles, cabochon stones, spheres; worlds, galaxies, universes suspended in infinite time - he, great and bright and golden-eyed, shone with an enrapturing iridescence. Emanating such light and warmth that even the most brilliant of fires seemed to be a pale imitation.
She understood it herself. Indeed, the man in her dream could only be the very first flame in the world; the very essence of immaculate divinity, poured forth from the threshold. The god her family had devoted themselves to. The god that she had been devoted to. His heat radiates as far as her realm, scalds her beneath its weight, sublimates flesh and bone alike.
Even as she winces, she understands. She understands that her grandmother’s efforts have been recognized in the end, after all; in as much as Aradia’s birth was divine punishment, this surely could be nothing less than providence. All that she needs to do is maintain the path provided for her. All that she has to do is maintain the path provided for her, and she can atone.
True to her belief, when she awakens days later the illness has receded from her body - the way she envisions snow in spring, foreign heat sunken deeply into her core, stirring within her breast for the first time, and she tells no one.
SUMMARY:
- dia is stuck in bed with a pretty nasty illness and seems to be like, dying, or that’s what people believe. - she languishes in bed for days. In as much as she remembers, her father never comes to visit her, and the servants are all but openly relieved to get rid of her. - her consciousness comes and goes over the course of the ordeal and while she’s out, she dreams about a mysterious figure spread out infinitely across infinite space, and all of the different worlds and dimensions and times that compose his form. - she recognizes him as the main god worshiped in her family - the god that she was betrothed to when she was born. Important god x2. - fortunately she also thinks he’s like super hot. This is the first time she has ever felt attracted to anyone! Ever! - this vision is a sign that she’s on the right track with everything she’s been doing; someday soon she’ll be able to repent for that uh, terrible terrible crime of having been born? - eventually, her fever breaks and she recovers, but she doesn’t tell anyone about what she saw.
NOTES:
- she looks younger here: if the dia in imeeji looks ~18, this one looks ~14, give or take. - while there probably aren’t literally 8 maids waiting on her in this memory, there is definitely more than one, but they definitely all look and sound exactly alike. all of the servants sound the same and have the same silhouette in part because she’s not like super present but also because they are completely indistinguishable to her by this point. This will be relevant later! - her new boyfriend, despite whatever any text above this might imply, actually just looks like this. But like, iridescent and glowy and stuff. No eyes to speak of or like… any…. thing... - for anyone that would recognize him, it’s Yog-Sothoth!
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5
Aradia lies prone in her bed, body wracked by pain and fever. Her limbs feel as if they’re made of stone - her mouth feels full of cement, and she sees as if through a tarnished glass. The visuals of this memory are blurry - humanoid shadows dart to and fro on the other side of the canopy, warbling phrases she only sometimes grasps as her mind sways with them. Bits and pieces of interaction - a maid to fetch her water, a maid to feed her, a maid to air out the sheets. A maid to wipe the sweat from her body, a maid to medicate her. A doctor to take her vitals. Bits and pieces of conversation -
“If [...] doesn’t stabilize [...] “
“[...] looking like this might [...] her, huh [...]”
“[...] It’s been three [...] hasn’t [...]”
“He has more important [...] than [...] daughter…”
Not a word of it is unexpected. Not a word of it is untrue. Painful as it is, cold as she is, Aradia accepts her death with dull, numb relief. If this is the course of her life, then so be it. Let what remains of their line find something greater, when the curse is dispelled.
But as her consciousness ebbs and flows, she dreams. More freely than her waking movement, more vivid than her waking vision.
Outstretched before her was a yawning, endless abyss, pierced only by the man that lay within it. Clad in motes of light floating within the pitch - myriad bubbles, cabochon stones, spheres; worlds, galaxies, universes suspended in infinite time - he, great and bright and golden-eyed, shone with an enrapturing iridescence. Emanating such light and warmth that even the most brilliant of fires seemed to be a pale imitation.
She understood it herself. Indeed, the man in her dream could only be the very first flame in the world; the very essence of immaculate divinity, poured forth from the threshold. The god her family had devoted themselves to. The god that she had been devoted to. His heat radiates as far as her realm, scalds her beneath its weight, sublimates flesh and bone alike.
Even as she winces, she understands. She understands that her grandmother’s efforts have been recognized in the end, after all; in as much as Aradia’s birth was divine punishment, this surely could be nothing less than providence. All that she needs to do is maintain the path provided for her. All that she has to do is maintain the path provided for her, and she can atone.
True to her belief, when she awakens days later the illness has receded from her body - the way she envisions snow in spring, foreign heat sunken deeply into her core, stirring within her breast for the first time, and she tells no one.
SUMMARY:
- dia is stuck in bed with a pretty nasty illness and seems to be like, dying, or that’s what people believe.
- she languishes in bed for days. In as much as she remembers, her father never comes to visit her, and the servants are all but openly relieved to get rid of her.
- her consciousness comes and goes over the course of the ordeal and while she’s out, she dreams about a mysterious figure spread out infinitely across infinite space, and all of the different worlds and dimensions and times that compose his form.
- she recognizes him as the main god worshiped in her family - the god that she was betrothed to when she was born. Important god x2.
- fortunately she also thinks he’s like super hot. This is the first time she has ever felt attracted to anyone! Ever!
- this vision is a sign that she’s on the right track with everything she’s been doing; someday soon she’ll be able to repent for that uh, terrible terrible crime of having been born?
- eventually, her fever breaks and she recovers, but she doesn’t tell anyone about what she saw.
NOTES:
- she looks younger here: if the dia in imeeji looks ~18, this one looks ~14, give or take.
- while there probably aren’t literally 8 maids waiting on her in this memory, there is definitely more than one, but they definitely all look and sound exactly alike. all of the servants sound the same and have the same silhouette in part because she’s not like super present but also because they are completely indistinguishable to her by this point. This will be relevant later!
- her new boyfriend, despite whatever any text above this might imply, actually just looks like this. But like, iridescent and glowy and stuff. No eyes to speak of or like… any…. thing...
- for anyone that would recognize him, it’s Yog-Sothoth!