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SLEEP
A manipulative enigma with grand presence and power within The Murmur that rivals that of a god, and many already treat Her as such. She is everywhere and nowhere at once. Call to her, and she may answer you. She may even treat you, if you treat her, but be prepared to sacrifice. Painful offerings and loyalty are her favorite gifts of devotion (She's also a hopeless romantic).
The Numerals and Espera seem to despise Her, and One is inexplicably bound to Her. What Sleep has disclosed about Her intentions seem quite simple: Collect more Vessels to host Her power, expand past the Earth She's tied to, and deliver them all from loneliness and prolonged suffering to a divine eutopia only She can create.
For that, She needs One.
The Numerals and Espera seem to despise Her, and One is inexplicably bound to Her. What Sleep has disclosed about Her intentions seem quite simple: Collect more Vessels to host Her power, expand past the Earth She's tied to, and deliver them all from loneliness and prolonged suffering to a divine eutopia only She can create.
For that, She needs One.
ONE
A somber, shy and elusive individual that better expresses himself through poetry and song. One's past is shrouded in mystery, tragedy and his own amnesia, but hinted to hold an incredible power that not even he is aware of. One has devoted his entirety to Sleep through blood sacrifice in an attempt to skew Her attention from the vessels to himself, but whether that was successful or not has yet to be known.
Vessels have been made recently aware that One has suffered Lunar Exaltation before the world was destroyed: An ascension, from mortal to more, and a beacon of power that remains the reason why Sleep seeks to claim him.
Vessels have been made recently aware that One has suffered Lunar Exaltation before the world was destroyed: An ascension, from mortal to more, and a beacon of power that remains the reason why Sleep seeks to claim him.
TWO
Not much is known about the Numeral Two, other than he is an expressive and unburdened Token, mute but not idle. He was very close to One before being thrown into a voided plane of existence by Sleep's hand, and scattered into fragments. Espera claims he is essential to returning One to his senses and putting an end to Sleep's reign.
Currently missing, but one fragment has been found.
Currently missing, but one fragment has been found.
THREE
An impish Offering of the Trickster variant, the Numeral Three has a playful disposition and colorful means of expression. Rather chaotic but not malicious, he takes the form of three-eyed corvids, cacatuas, and foxes with frequency, while answering riddles fuels his permanance for brief bursts. His connection with the Waking World is stronger than Two's, but in no less need of mending.
Currently his appearances are unreliable; He may be seen in shared dreams or when he has enough power to solidify from the Void's realm.
Currently his appearances are unreliable; He may be seen in shared dreams or when he has enough power to solidify from the Void's realm.
FOUR
The first Numeral to vanish and the last to be found. Not much is known about Four, other than having a very strong connection with Three.
Currently missing.
Currently missing.
ESPERA
Revealed to be Nymphai, The Espera were birthed from One's exaltation and were meant to guide him on his journey from mortal to more before being barred by Sleep. She, (or they), is (are) a singular entity of three bodies, which are missing in a similar manner to the Numerals.
She has a stronger presence within the Murmur but too weak to manifest physically, and is always watching to aid the Vessels in any way she can.
NAME5
PB NAME
PB NAME
Info Five Here
One | The Night Does Not Belong To God (day 4+)
His posture in the swell of the Murmur mimics that of life now, and life before: poised in an unadorned chair of wood long dry, worn and pitting, hands delicately resting on the arms, head bowed as if in repose, or waiting. His hair like curtainfall sweeps around him and pools on the floor as his back and his feet.
He reaches for that emptiness that he has thought of so often it has become as familiar: a grief that bubbles just beneath the surface, but spills more readily than his own.
His head lifts, Sleep's half-veil clattering softly with crystals that serve no purpose in an absence of light. He does not need say the man's name; his attention is singular, seeking, focused. His voice is like untempered steel cooled too quickly, brittle and threatening to crack despite the strength lent to its sound. ]
Is this destruction truly yours alone? Or only the guilt?
[ The sky that broke with the force of cataclysm the likes of which the Forsaken has not seen in a thousand years; the power contained seemingly in a single Vessel that only the fury of clashing gods at their most raw could wreak; humans that fell beneath a thrall of worship the most vain of gods could only dream of. ]
ROLL: 4
ROLL: 10
ROLL: 14
ever since she came. ever since he lost them all. ]
. . . I am to blame, [ the notes on the piano pause. and skip, delicately, playing high, low, testing the range like stretching his rusted joints. ] if that is what you wish to know.
no subject
A silent appreciation whispers across the space between them, but it is not why he is here. His eyes close, brow knit. For One, he reaches for memories long buried, to share of his own volition - for once - instead of having it plied from him. One worships as Sleep demands, but if the dream he saw is true, he does not - or perhaps, did not, always do so willingly. The memory begins the same as the dream:
The earth cracks. Great chasms yawn, splitting plains and valleys alike. Entire towns are swallowed in their fathomless depths. Glacial ice creeps down from mountain peaks, bit by bit, great tongues that lap up all within reach. Firestorms, sandstorms, waves taller than any great fortress, all rage and consume. Above it all, the din of battle can be heard, glimpses of figures grand in their fury. It is for their rage, their strength, that the human realm crumbles.
The Forsaken's eyes open, gaze remaining somewhere between them for a long moment before lifting. ]What I desire to know... is what you intended. That sort of strength does not come unbound without intention, even if the consequences do.
[ In the dream, he had felt guilt, all-consuming. But he could not discern what was most important: what had One meant to do with the power that rivaled the strength of an entire pantheon? ]
no subject
he has not spoken of it. he buries it deep. it is a source of pain, and a source of a chasm in his memory. it is from a time that feels distant, not his own— and yet, all of him, to his very core. that despair is what had made him one. ]
I did not intend to hurt anyone.
no subject
But he did feel despair. It is quieter now, buried by the sands of time, but unearthed more recently by Sleep's parlor tricks of drawing out memories with food. In a way, the despair is at the Forsaken's core, too. In other ways, it is the protective, dulling shield he created that is his core.
The Forsaken's eyes close for a long moment, ears ringing still with the memory of notes across ivory. ]
I felt something, in that dream - a sense that I - you - had been looking to find something or... create something, I could not tell. [ The memory, or vision, was soaked in devastation and grief. He had not had time to try to wade through it. ] Eden? [ A name not spoken, but he could feel it, strange as that seemed, and feel its importance. ]
no subject
suddenly, he's afraid to. it bleeds through their link like rain pelting through fishnets, until his uncertainty shatters abruptly into shock. ]
—No, that name, [ he shakes his head, removes himself from his seat. he has told no one of such. it was nearly gone from his mind, drowned in an endless embrace that sleep could provide. the name hurts more than anything. ] stop.
no subject
Something beneath his sternum shifts. A sense of recognition dawns. He may not be a god here, the way he was, but he can still recognize one of the Lost.
The Forsaken rises slowly from the old wood chair, and crosses the liminal space between them. He does not touch, but he does stand close, chin tipping up as though to meet One's gaze. The god's voice softens for their proximity, and for something gentler beneath. ]
I imagine you have reason to be afraid. But it seems there is something you must face. [ Briefly, he glances down as he upturns a palm between them in offering, before returning his gaze to One's obscured countenance. ] I do not intend to press you, though this... resistance is not something you should leave unexamined.
no subject
but he withdraws it as if the forsaken's were a live wire, and to reach out and touch would mean to bring him more harm.
with that, in hurried haste and growing panic, one vanishes from their talk. the murmur's connection dissapates. ]