[Scourgebane]

marki

[Albino_]

Username + ID:
Fawnae name:
Prompt (art piece allowed):
Other:

Mark!

[satosugu]

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calamitas / they/them | living dead girl.

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──────────── ffvii + 762494

𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 !

the tail end of a song.
"..happy birthday to you!"

the lilted words echoed in cala's head until they tangled together
into an undesirable mush. what was so happy about this? another
year slashed off the board. one year closer to greying, to growing
disconnected from younger generations, to losing touch with the
current trends, to losing touch with the world... to death. dreadful.
utterly dreadful. calamitas felt sick to their stomach as they forced
a smile at their friends. "thanks guys, really." they hummed, taking
in the ever aging faces of their best friends and family. all too
happy to celebrate deterioration.

──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

--

when calamitas awoke, it was still dark out. unusual. though cala tended to stay up late, they also were a very heavy sleeper, and rarely woke up in the dead of night.. especially not to silence. not like this. with a begrudging grumble, cala slid out of bed and tentatively made their way to the window. no matter how heavily they squinted, or how round their eyes widened, the darkness outside seemed.. impenetrable. and yet..

something was calling.

a silent call, one that tugged at calamitas' very soul without words. their heart ached for the darkness the way one would ache for a lost lover, and cala couldn't take it. stress is bad for the skin, after all.

abruptly, they spun, storming from the room with the determination of the moon to meet the darkness. there was something deep within cala that rejected the call- that begged them to stay in, to go to bed, to ignore the cry of the void.. but...

the door swung open like an invitation. cala didn't remember unlocking it, but it was definitely open now, and the inky blackness of the outside grew ever present, ever demanding, pleading, begging.. and who was calamitas to deny it? they took one step, slowly, then the next, and another, one hoof after another, until..

the door clicked closed from somewhere behind cala. or maybe in front of them..? to the side? ah. calamitas realized at once that the house was no longer where it had been. or, rather, the fawnae was no longer where they had previously stood. instead, all around them was an overwhelming lightlessness, a total eclipse, and cala felt... nothing. they knew they should- anybody would be frightened when submerged in this ocean of darkness, but no matter how the fawnae did their best to focus, all they felt was the call. deeper.

--

"when the world ends, what do you think happens to the immortal?"

cala stopped. they weren't sure how long they had been walking. "i don't know."

"do you think they just float in space, forever, in constant agony? unable to breathe, lungs screaming, body twisted and torn apart?"

"maybe," cala responded slowly, ears twitching. "who are you?"

"maybe," the voice echoed, disregarding the question. "you're very beautiful."

"thank you." i know. i know this--

"it would be a shame to lose your beauty. i don't think this world can take it. let me preserve it. preserve you."

cala hesitated. then, "how?"

"don't worry about it. i can make it happen. just promise me one thing."

"what?"

"say hi to the stars for me."

--

the second time calamitas shot awake was much less pleasant than the already relatively frightening first time. pain shot through their skull, igniting their brain and rocketing down their spine. it bloomed along their veins like red hot flowers. cala staggered out of bed and fell to the floor, writhing, mouth tasting of blood as fangs sprouted from their gums. every cell, every iota of their being burned.

sparing a look at the mirror as they convulsed, cala smiled.

[jinkori]

mark mark (they r coming home with me /j /lh)

[recherché.]

Username + ID: recherché. + 750162
Fawnae name: aletheia — "spirit of truth and sincerity"
Prompt (art piece allowed):
Other:

[grave keeper]

marking!

[Exitium]

Username + ID: Exitium + 626371
Fawnae name: Lilia
Prompt (art piece allowed): Lilia von Count was born a sickly fawnae. Never allowed outside, Lilia longed to see past the manor windows. Sneaking out one gloomy night, this fawn met a rather...helpful fellow. A promise rose from his mouth, and she hesitantly accepted. A life that could be lived outside the dreary manor? It almost seemed too good to be true...

Being bitten by the other fawn, she had momentary regrets about accepting his proposal. The benefits outweighed her doubts, however, and she returned home without her parents any the wiser. The next morning, Lilia told her parents about what happened. Words were thrown her way, and tears were shed as she realized the gravity of her decision. She would never grow old, and her family would pass on as the years go on, leaving her all alone. "My mistake cannot be undone. I shall make the most of our time together, for we have at least many years still. Forgive me, mother. Forgive me, father." Lilia said sadly. She would forever rely on the blood of others, but she never stole blood from the unwilling donor. [184 words]
Other:

[kaisisles]

[ TELL ME WHAT IT MEANS TO BE DEAD. ]

"pardon?"
fyodor yvonne looked up into the pale face of the countess fyodor. her mother laughed in that light, elegant way of hers, before turning to address the gentleman across the table from them.


"i am grateful you have been family to us for so long, to see us in this state of disarray, heinry."


the man fiddled with the handkerchief edge, twisting it in his fingers.
"yes...and i am grateful to the late countess fyodor...i constantly find her in my thoughts, as we dine in this orchard she loved so dearly...your daughter's dark hair and bright eyes resemble hers greatly, you know."

---

yvonne did not understand a word of the cryptic conversation between her mother and her sworn uncle. She'd never met their mother- her grandmother, the late countess fyodor who'd raised them, nor did she bother to pay attention to their words any longer. she quickly excused herself from the meal, only turning back to steal a glance at her mother.


but even the radiant glow of sunlight could not mask the gauntness of her visage
nor could the delicately-applied layer of powder brighten the hollowness of her eyes
her hair was marbled with streaks of silver, fraying at the edges.

mother was sick.
but mother must have a plan, as she always does.


the countess fyodor is wise, clever, and beautiful.
yvonne fyodor is always distracted, slow, and lackluster.
how would she ever become worthy of the title? there was so much to learn, yet her mother didn't seem long for the world.


---

"you are disrespecting the treasure of the late countess! look at the orchard- where has the color gone?

if you are unable to care for her, then surely i must!"


countess fyodor continued to dine wordlessly until yvonne was out of earshot.

then she reached up and plucked a single red apple from the branch above her.


"do you know what this is, heinry?"
before the man could react, he watched in disbelief as the crimson vitality faded from the fruit. and was it his delirium, or were the countess's eyes red?

"this is life itself." hundreds of voices, variants, of his sworn sister and adoptive mother, chanted in unison
the 'life' of the insolent viscount soon joined that of the hollow fruit.

---

yvonne returned to the manor late in the evening and found the house silent.


"mother..? mother, i'm home."
she crept upstairs, where the door to her mother's room had been left ajar.


"come here, dear."
yvonne gingerly set the basket down on her mother's dresser. an apple dislodged itself from the pile and came to a rest on its surface.

her mother's eyes were closed, as though she were about to sleep, but there was the shadow of a smile on her face.


"good night, mother," she whispered


"good night, yvonne," the countess whispered sweetly

---

when she next awoke, she was on the floor.

the countess- no, yvonne fyodor rose to her feet, stretched, and faced the mirror

she had supple skin, rosy yet naturally pale. hair which fell to her shoulders in a curtain, jet black instead of streaked in silver. yet those bright eyes remained reminiscent of the faces she'd owned before.

she tenderly picked up the crimson red apple “yvonne" fyodor had placed on the table earlier, and directed a fanged smile at her reflection in the glass.


well...he certainly was a mistake. too emotional. too human. she would need to try another approach, or forget about using humans altogether.


not to worry. she had plenty of time, and plenty of opportunities.


the countess fyodor left the room without even a glance towards the motionless figure in the bed.

kaisisles 444424 | [3516]

[katsue]

[ TELL ME WHAT IT MEANS TO BE DEAD. ]

"pardon?"
fyodor yvonne looked up into the pale face of the countess fyodor. her mother laughed in that light, elegant way of hers, before turning to address the gentleman across the table from them.


"i am grateful you have been family to us for so long, to see us in this state of disarray, heinry."


the man fiddled with the handkerchief edge, twisting it in his fingers.
"yes...and i am grateful to the late countess fyodor...i constantly find her in my thoughts, as we dine in this orchard she loved so dearly...your daughter's dark hair and bright eyes resemble hers greatly, you know."

---

yvonne did not understand a word of the cryptic conversation between her mother and her sworn uncle. She'd never met their mother- her grandmother, the late countess fyodor who'd raised them, nor did she bother to pay attention to their words any longer. she quickly excused herself from the meal, only turning back to steal a glance at her mother.


but even the radiant glow of sunlight could not mask the gauntness of her visage
nor could the delicately-applied layer of powder brighten the hollowness of her eyes
her hair was marbled with streaks of silver, fraying at the edges.

mother was sick.
but mother must have a plan, as she always does.


the countess fyodor is wise, clever, and beautiful.
yvonne fyodor is always distracted, slow, and lackluster.
how would she ever become worthy of the title? there was so much to learn, yet her mother didn't seem long for the world.


---

"you are disrespecting the treasure of the late countess! look at the orchard- where has the color gone?

if you are unable to care for her, then surely i must!"


countess fyodor continued to dine wordlessly until yvonne was out of earshot.

then she reached up and plucked a single red apple from the branch above her.


"do you know what this is, heinry?"
before the man could react, he watched in disbelief as the crimson vitality faded from the fruit. and was it his delirium, or were the countess's eyes red?

"this is life itself." hundreds of voices, variants, of his sworn sister and adoptive mother, chanted in unison
the 'life' of the insolent viscount soon joined that of the hollow fruit.

---

yvonne returned to the manor late in the evening and found the house silent.


"mother..? mother, i'm home."
she crept upstairs, where the door to her mother's room had been left ajar.


"come here, dear."
yvonne gingerly set the basket down on her mother's dresser. an apple dislodged itself from the pile and came to a rest on its surface.

her mother's eyes were closed, as though she were about to sleep, but there was the shadow of a smile on her face.


"good night, mother," she whispered


"good night, yvonne," the countess whispered sweetly

---

when she next awoke, she was on the floor.

the countess- no, yvonne fyodor rose to her feet, stretched, and faced the mirror

she had supple skin, rosy yet naturally pale. hair which fell to her shoulders in a curtain, jet black instead of streaked in silver. yet those bright eyes remained reminiscent of the faces she'd owned before.

she tenderly picked up the crimson red apple “yvonne" fyodor had placed on the table earlier, and directed a fanged smile at her reflection in the glass.


well...he certainly was a mistake. too emotional. too human. she would need to try another approach, or forget about using humans altogether.


not to worry. she had plenty of time, and plenty of opportunities.


the countess fyodor left the room without even a glance towards the motionless figure in the bed.

kaisisles 444424 | [3516]

Due to artist inactivity, staff have judged this competition. Congrats, you've won this adopt! Here's the full design!