kalon #1418 by naumachy

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Artist naumachy [gallery]
Time spent 3 hours, 48 minutes
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kalon #1418

Postby naumachy » Sat Jun 09, 2018 10:29 am

    strawberry jam kiddie

    impress me, no limits, but please dont make me read 67890 pages of words

    ends on the 28th


    [s] shine
    [c] hair, tail, fur, backmane,
    [u] ears
Last edited by naumachy on Wed Jun 20, 2018 2:56 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: kalon #1418

Postby rustyroxy » Sat Jun 09, 2018 10:29 am

res
┏━━━━━━━━┓

xxxroxy ♀️
xxxxmy kalons
xxxxxxpms open

┗━━━━━━━━┛
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Re: kalon #1418

Postby jules_ » Sat Jun 09, 2018 10:30 am

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✵ ᴋ ᴇ ᴇ ᴘ ᴇ ʀ -- ᴏ ꜰ -- s ᴇ ᴄ ʀ ᴇ ᴛ s ✵
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--Image
- ɪ ᴛ ᴇ ᴍ ᴘ ʀ ɪ-----------------------------------------------𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼


    -------The Itempri are an ancient race of desert dwellers, most distinctive for their white hair, warm eyes, and long lifespans. Their capital city, Taevas, sprawled out from the desert cliffs, a marvel of technological progress and knowledge, where scholars and mathematicians flourished due to access to materials from the beginning of life itself. Now, the ruins sit half-buried in the sand, rusted and derelict. During centuries of upheaval on the desert continent, the Itempri were almost wiped out, as a neutral civilization was a sitting duck for warlords to come and raze. Their libraries were burned and their people and weapons were seized. Upon seeing the mass destruction and pain their knowledge had caused, the remaining survivors fled underground. Today, they are nothing but a legend from history's dark ages.

    The Itempri have completely isolated themselves from society, refusing to engage once again in petty mortal conflicts or to share their advancements with the world. Their city now resides completely hidden from sight, and anyone who accidently stumbles upon it and attempts to leave is quickly silenced. In other kingdoms across the shifting sands, there are children born with shocking white hair and a calling in their chest to somewhere unknown. Children sentenced to watch their loved ones age and die while remaining unchanged by time, to live multiple lives as wandering angels with nothing but whispers of times long past filling their mind.
    ﴿

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-ʟ ɪ ʙ ʀ ᴀ ʀ ʏ -- ᴏ ꜰ -- ᴠ ʏ s ʜ ᴇ--------------------------------------------------------𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽

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    At the lowest part of the "new" city of Yashea lies the library of Vyshe, a structure plunging hundreds of stories into the earth. This is what remains of the original archives of Taevas, and as one continues down the spiraling path they travel down the years, with the bottom containing the oldest known records the Itempri have collected. Though the original archive was destroyed with the fall of Taevas, the surviving archivists recreated lost documents from memory and organized missions to retrieve any that may have withstood the destruction. As their people reached what would become Yashea, the archivists hand picked new children to pass down their duties.

    Today, the archival apprentices undergo centuries of rigorous training, each specializing in an area and memorizing the texts within should the archives fall once again. A new braid is added into their stark hair to signify advancement in their training as they move through each section, and should they ever grow dim in that area the braid would be cut out until they re-comitted the information to memory once again. They are taught to be the watchers, the few who leave the safety of the city to record the present, carefully and meticulously recording and relaying, but never interfering. Some also are presented another precious task, one time where they may break the uncaring facade. They may seek out their blood, finding those children wandering the continent and finally bringing them home after so many seasons of being lost. The Itempri have changed, hair now streaked with brown or black, or eyes in shades of green, blue, and silver. Dissent grows among them, distrust towards those whose blood is mixed with their ancestors' conquerors and those who may be loyal to another home, another place.

    The archivist by the name of Raziel has earned many braids, and studied many things. He knows of every people on the continent, of their cultures and their appearences, everything that distinguishes one kingdom from another. One of the few tasked with finding the lost, he has traveled the desert and observed the tides of change that time brings to mortals. Considered young by the parameters of the Itrempri, he has a soft heart for the torn souls of his lost people. However, sometimes his gaze drifts. To those he passes unseen in the streets, the ones who break his heart with their misery. The ones he must leave, who he cannot help. So many years of studying the intermost workings of these people and he must simply turn the other way. Perhaps it is selfish, in a way, to ignore those who need help in fear of the punishment. For the Itempri fear nothing more than being discovered again. Interfering in the lives of the mortals carries a high price, a shaven head and crippled mind, memories stolen and expulsion from the wonderous library for all eternity. So Raziel abstains, trying to catch a glimpse of a white strand of hair or pink eyes, hoping maybe this time he may step in.

----------


--Image
Raziel feels his people are living shadow lives now. Those who stay in
Yashea may not feel it, but on his worldly travels Raziel has felt the
hole in his life grow ever larger. Picked from childhood for his calm
termpermant and excellent memory, he has been deprived love,
true friendship, the things that make one's life feel whole. He
watches the mortals from outside, envious of their lives and
wanting to be among them. In all his studies, he has reached on
conclusion. Mortality is what makes life worth it, that mortals are
more beautiful simply because their beauty is not guaranteed to
last forever, that their relationships break or die, that everything
they have is fleeting and all the more precious because of it. After
600 years of emptiness, it's only when walking among them he feels
at peace.

Becoming one of the searchers who leave their protected city to help
rebuild their bloodlines has allowed him small windows in the world
he so covets. While he tracks his targets, he can slide into a new life
where he can pretend for even the smallest amount of time that he
could have a normal life. However, the one thing he nevers allows him-
self is love or true companionship, for even as he marvels in the beauty
of the mortals he walks among, to leave one when he must move on
would break his heart irreparably. Instead he barely skirts the edges of
their world, interacting when he can and other times simple watching
in wonder. On him he keeps a journal, lists of names and locations and
those whose memory he couldn't leave behind. Most are from extended
missions, nights when he wandered the streets of one kingdom or another
while the blue tracker spun aimlessly trying to catch the signature of any
Itempri blood. His journal is blasphemy against the code of the archivists,
and Raziel knows one day he will give in to the temptation and may ruin
it all. When that time comes, however, it will be a blessed respite from
the isolation of all his years.


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Raziel had been content once, head filled with stories of the brutality of mortals, his ignorance of the outside world preyed upon. His first outings were quick and fleeting. A soul found, lost and confused, and brought back to their safe haven to their true family. His first meetings with mortals, filled with contempt and disinterest.

At least, before he met her.

She was one of mixed blood, eyes a faded shallow sea and hair dirtied as if mud had been streaked through. The tracker had hit dead ends for months, years, until one day he found her at that table, the blue device delicately pulled apart down to it's core compartments. Those blue eyes stared into his with a sense of recognition, a serene gaze of knowing exactly who he was and what he was there for, as she brought down a rock and smashed the thing to pieces.

▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
-------“𝓘 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾”

“𝓘 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓽”---------------

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Four simple words left him paralyzed. The rest had been different, whirlwinds of confusion and a feeling of otherness that ripped through them until they were brought to him, their salvation. Then there was this woman who would shatter his ego with a sentence, a phrase delivered with a note of pity, pity towards him. He pursued her for weeks, asking her why, begging for any explanation at all. Failure was not an option he was willing to accept. Weeks stretched into months, into years. She would only speak to him in the mornings to send him to town on one errand or another, leaving him to sit as she delicately carved materials into the late night. Mortals filtered into her hut occasionally, collapsing onto one of the many beds, taking a meal from her kitchen, or money she handed them from her pockets. As shavings of wood, metal, or stone softly gathered on the floor every night Raziel saw true suffering.

A beggar on the street or a chaotic choking slum could be skirted around, eyes averted and head down. But here, in this woman's home, he was forced to face the reality of the outside for the first time. These people had families, friends, ones who weeped for them while they suffered in the desert of poverty, illness, or simply the wearing of time on their bodies. Others were completely alone in the world, curling up in a corner with the woman gripping their hand. She was with them even as their lives faded and they were left to the dirfting sands, wrapped in beautiful blankets and ornaments carved with love. Her home was a sanctuary, and every night she carved the stories of the people who came and went into something that was concrete.

He was not special, he was below even the mortals. Raziel watched as stories of rich lives spiraled out from the woman's fingers, struck by the realization that his life would never be so meaningful, a weight that dragged him deeper into despair. So he began to help, in whatever way, with her work, years of animosity wiped clean as he saw how fiercely mortals loved and despaired. A hole in his heart, replaced with overflowing compassion and also the crushing realization that his time here needed to end lest he break his cardinal rules. When he left, their eyes met again, and he knew she had irrevocably changed something in him.

Twenty times he returned, twenty times she rejected his offers to come with him. He understood, and each time she asked him to tell her a story of those he had found before.

He returned once more, the elders growing tired of her long game. This would be the last time, and should she refuse, her time would come for her that night. Her eyes told him she knew exactly what would happen as the sun dipped below the mountains. Sitting at the table, Raziel told her one last story, his story this time. A story of a man who knew everything except himself, who had lived an empty life until she showed him its meaning, one who would be imprisoned until the end of his days. Standing to leave, his finger grazed his cheek, coming away glossy with saltwater.

Twenty one times he returned, and only once did she call out for him to wait. A parcel was pressed into his hands, glittering rings expertly carved and smoothed into infinite loops, no seams visible on their glossy surfaces.

▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
-------𝓞𝓷𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭, 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓸𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓱 𝓪 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮.

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She twisted each into his braids, until only one remained. One extra, Raziel realized, looking at her in confusion. Her work was meticulous and slow, the work of one who knew they had eternity, where such a mistake wouldn't be made. Smiling, she added it alongside the rest before letting it fall, a small chiming noise ringing throughout the home as it fell among the others.

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Last edited by jules_ on Sat Jun 30, 2018 6:14 am, edited 89 times in total.
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{✗}────(Aero the Slug Queen)

Postby Rocki » Sat Jun 09, 2018 10:31 am

Image Image!! ) ───
──{✗A snail's a snail}───────────────────────────
xxxxxxxxxxImage
..x....ImageAeroImage
xxxxxxxxxxxx[Ah - row]
xxxxxxxxxxImage
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x. Kalon ─ Agender Pronouns
.x. ⧽ Kinda grouchyPansexual ⧼
xxxxxxMollusk Enthusiast
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xMollusks, of all creatures to ever walk
xthis planet, you may ask? Well 'let me
xtell you something. There's no better
xthing on this planet than a snail even
xif they are, rather weird in your eyes.
xLet me share a good old story with ya
xand maybe it just might enlighten you
Image
x.xImage

Image
Aero wrote:So one day I was walking along the beach. The day before I was asked to return my keys to a cave that I rented. So I decided to walk along the shore so I 'ould admire the view as I walked back. Don't worry though, I had 'nother place to stay which was why I 'as returnin' the keys. So, minding my own business, 'ya know? But guess what, some turtlebrain decides to throw some frisbee like there's no tomorrow and it comes hitting me right in the head! I growled at them, then realized growling was quite easy. Then it hit me- not the frisbee- I had lost the keys!
'he other people probably thought I was crazy. I was pacing along the shore like a lost dog in search of 'hose keys! All 'cuz of that frisbee. I didn't see a reason to bother them at the moment as I was concentrating on finding the keys. I ended up having to meet the person rentin' me the cave I had before at a cafe by the beach. It wasn't too good, 'ey were disappointed. I don't blame them. If I didn't return the keys, I'd have to pay! I walked 'long the beach looking out at the ocean. Then something approached me into the water, a miracle! A cuttlefish swam gracefully over towards me, quite beautifully, and handed me the keys I 'as missin'! I owed my thanks towards that cuttlefish. Next couple 'o months I came to the beach to meet the cuttlefish.
I named 'er Miracle.
Eventually 'ol Miracle stopped coming over to me. Poor thing probably didn't make it, but she did bring me new friends. Our meetings attracted seasnails 'n squids plus some other things I couldn't quite recognize. It was nice, 'ey were some nice friends. I still meet 'em to this day. Can't go without. At my cave I keep a collection of snail shells to 'ecorate. No! I didn't kill them! They were 'lready dead don't worry. I made friends 'ith some land mollusks. I have snail 'n slug homes inside my home! They're great, 'ext time you get grossed out by a slug ya need to remember that even they have feelings. Just imagine how scared 'ey must be to see a giant like you!

───────────{No matter how small✗}────────────────

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xxxxAero's personality in a nutshell─
xxxxgrouchy most of the time
xxxxquiet; though not shy at all
xxxximpatient + insensitive
xxxxquick thinking
xxxxobviously mollusk obsessed
xxxxactually very defensive
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🐌 🐌 🐌 🐌 🐌


eg. wrote:do you get it .. because their tail looks like a shell... kinda ....

this game wrote:edited 41 times in total.

eg. wrote:i'll leave
Last edited by Rocki on Tue Jun 12, 2018 5:24 am, edited 44 times in total.
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Re: kalon #1418

Postby cyborgishly » Sat Jun 09, 2018 10:31 am

mork
then all this became history,
your hand found mine
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Re: kalon #1418

Postby mintea » Sat Jun 09, 2018 10:33 am

omg saw this babe on discord,,,
res!!!
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Re: kalon #1418

Postby Jippy » Sat Jun 09, 2018 10:36 am

Dropping out sadly cause I over stuffed me plate! cx
Last edited by Jippy on Thu Jun 14, 2018 11:00 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: kalon #1418

Postby _silentsiren_ » Sat Jun 09, 2018 10:39 am

res
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Re: kalon #1418

Postby Half Tree » Sat Jun 09, 2018 10:42 am

Last edited by Half Tree on Thu Jun 28, 2018 2:22 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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green-loving - INFP - atheist - she/her - critical role fan

kalons - tolters - errps
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avatar by baying
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Re: kalon #1418

Postby NaCl » Sat Jun 09, 2018 10:45 am

Res
Dropping, GL everyone!!
Last edited by NaCl on Sun Jun 10, 2018 1:34 pm, edited 1 time in total.

avatar is by
tonketzu <3
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