A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; as I have loved you, that you also love one another.
By this all will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.
- John 13:34-35
the wolf ever!!! wrote:
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rem sleep - they / them
nocturnal artist, socially awkward
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art by .wafflecat.
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||Names||
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Full Title
Lord Sigmund Anthony Damocles
Nickname
Edan
Casual Names
Tony, Sigmund
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||Gender||
Male
||A Cold Fear||
Sigmund has a bit of an irrational fear of the cold- not quite like a nippy day where his hands go prickly after a long day out, or having to constantly shake out his ears so that he can still feel the tips- he fears the type of cold that becomes bone deep, where chills wrack his body no matter how much he does to alleviate the feeling, or where he becomes so cold that he stills, and both his mind and body become sluggish beyond repair.
The fear isn’t entirely unfounded, however. He had the misfortune of almost freezing to death as a child from a play day gone wrong. He was entirely aware the whole time, helpless to stop the process of his mind and body shutting down before he was rescued.
He generates a fear reaction whenever his core temperature drops- he’s always run a bit hotter than most kalons, so when he feels the change, his heart rate immediately picks up, showcasing his paranoia when his body temperature raises too fast and he breaks out into a sweat. Muscles spasming painfully, jaw locking, more tremors, the whole shebang- literal torture. Is it too much to want to be warm and comfortable?
He’s a bit dramatic, so whenever that happens, he bundles up far more than strictly necessary, and ends up sticking out like a sore thumb, armed to the teeth in fluff and cloth on top of his own poofiness. It’s a comical sight to see, and he usually laughs it off with whoever’s with him at the time. Just ol’ Sigmund playin’ a joke! You know it’s cold when the virtual space heater bundles up.
No need to tell them the truth behind why he hides himself behind so many layers, after all.
{298/~300}
||A Child's Dream||
A dream, you say? Ah, well that’s easy- let Sigmund tell you a little story.
Once, a little boy dreamed about traveling to the moon and stars and back again. With a big, expansive, and inquisitive mind, this little boy studied astronomy- about the large, cold expanse beyond Earth’s warm little bubble.
Then, one day, that little boy learned that he particularly didn’t fancy being cold- he didn’t think that exploring was worth it if it were to be so... without warmth. Lonely.
He was no Goldilocks, but the little boy decided that this warm bubble was just right.
Yet, his want to explore never wavered. So, what could he explore in his little bubble? Could he travel across the seas? Brave hostile territory, or cross numerous borders to sate his never ending curiosity?
Mm, well, the little boy could do all these things and more. He was a blessed child, you see, and he used the resources he had to his advantage to follow his heart. And why should he not? No use using his advantage on frivolous things.
He planned to do many things with his building blocks and his longing for adventure. Provide aid, share his overflowing love that he had of the world with the world! ...But.
The little boy had to be careful, had to plan. He knew where misplaced impulsiveness could land him. He needed many more things besides his resources and drive. He needed support, someone or someones to aid him on his life long quest. He needed guidance! He needed...
Well, wanted... Love.
Ah, yes, this little boy longed for love. Nothing too much, surely, he has no wish to be selfish.
...But, he does wonder what it would be like to have someone just for him, someone who could stick beside him where others wouldn’t. The little boy knows he’s not the kindest, or the most selfless, or the most understanding...
But if he could have someone, someone to stick by him when the time comes where he wants to truly wander, well.
Maybe he’ll actually travel to the stars and back. If only to pluck one from the skies and give it to the one who decides to stay by his side.
A gift you see- a wish, just for them, for granting him his own.
{386/~300}
||A Sweet Tradition||
Despite the cold, autumn is by far Sigmund’s favorite holiday. The sights! The smells! The ambiance! The food!
Mostly the food.
It helps that autumn gives him a reason to use ugly, terribly warm quilts and his softest, warmest materials. He doesn’t change much about himself in the fall, still as giving as can be and jovial to a fault, but he does reserve a routine just for the autumn months between September and November.
Sentimentally, he bakes a simple cinnamon sugar cake for his family on the fifteenth of every month of September, October, and November. It’s to commemorate a passed friend of his, you see. The man loved his sweets, and would bring Sigmund a sugary or fatty treat for him during the fall months. Sigmund’s friend would make it his mission to give Sigmund something on the fifteenth as well, to commemorate the first day that they met. Sigmund’s friend died on the fifteenth of November.
Sigmund never eats the little confectionaries himself, so he’ll never know how well his cooking skills fare in terms of cinnamon sugar cakes. Although, judging by his family’s changing reactions over the years, it’s safe to say that he’s improved.
It’s enough that he gets to experience his family enjoying his baking. Much like how his friend practically glowed whenever Sigmund tried the sweet delicacies.
Sigmund doesn’t think he’ll ever make the cakes in quite the same way that his friend did, though.
{242/~300}
||The Tacky Neckerchief||
The neckerchief is from that very same friend, actually! It was a belated birthday gift to Sigmund- Sigmund’s friend was never well off in the first place, so all things considering, was a fabulous gift. Sigmund’s friend swore up and down that the cloth belonged to his grandmother, but Sigmund knew better. Sigmund’s friend was a baker’s apprentice, and Sigmund is certain he found the cloth lying around his friend’s shop before.
Well, at least it’s clean. And it certainly smelled good at the time- like baked bread and melted sugar, maple and cinnamon and nutmeg, mmm... Ah, right, the neckerchief.
Once his friend passed, Sigmund couldn’t bear to get rid of it. The tacky cloth ended up growing on him, honestly. He’s always secretly loved how it complemented his patterns. Finally, something that wouldn’t clash with his fur! And, once his friend passed, Sigmund couldn’t bear to get rid of it. The abnormally soft fabric serves as a reminder. Sweet memories of his brother in all but name, and food.
But mostly his friend, this time- food will just have to take a backseat in this case.
{188/~200}
||The Patchwork Quilt||
Stitch by Stitch.
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1880. Berkshire, England
Thread, check. Yarn, check- patch ready to go this time? Check.
The quilt bunched in Sigmund’s paws. The large blanket rested over his legs, warming him delightfully as he basked in the warmth and light of the fireplace as well. Outside the room, he could hear the muffled patters of his younger nieces and nephews through the large manor and the occasional shout from the hallway. The holiday season never ceased to be his favorite time of the year. He flicked his ears at each sound, an unconscious reaction, as he readied himself. Darkness blanketed him besides the one central point of luminescence, and he brushed a thumb over the oldest patch on the quilt, a ratty thing that he had to repair the year before. A crude stitching of two kalons, one bigger than the other, sat on the light brown surface.
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‘Florence! Here, here, look what I made!’
The larger figure turned to Sigmund and the lopsided patch, eyes twinkling. The nanny was just finishing up the last few stitches in a large beige quilt that nearly dwarfed her by its size. The stitches sat like embroidery, only just visible on top of the light backdrop. The canvas was a work of art indeed. ‘Ah, beautiful, Edan. Now, what would that be for, I wonder?’
Sigmund puffed his cheeks at that. ‘It’s for the mem-memory quilt! You said I could choose the first patch!’
‘That I did, and it is fabulous indeed,’ She answered as Sigmund snuggled up against her side, his small body easily curling up beside her under the quilt. He promptly presented to her the uneven patch, face adorably stern. ‘Please, help me put it on!’
Florence laughed at his expression. ‘Of course. Ah, but are you sure? You did stitch the patch yourself already...’ She trailed off, glancing at the pricks and bandages on his fingers. Tenacious little lad.
Sigmund nodded decisively. ‘Yes!’
‘Well alright then. Now, watch what I’m doing, and point the needle away from your fingers this time, Edan...’
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Sigmund set the newest patch onto an open square and hummed thoughtfully at the decreasing amount of spaces. I’m filling this up quicker than I thought... I’ll have to start on the other side soon. Smiling at the observation, his gaze ghosts over another square amongst a few others, this one a simple black patch embroidered with a shaky spider, much like his shine, in a fabric suspiciously like his neckerchief.
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‘Happy Birthday yet again, Sigmund! Ah, fifteen years is such a milestone~’
‘You’re just saying that because it just affirms the fact that I’m still a year younger than you.’
‘Yup!’ The cheeky baker’s apprentice grinned. ‘So, you like what I did there, eh? I couldn’t find any red cloth, so I improvised. Who knew that I’d find more of my grandma’s cloth so conveniently?’
‘Yeah, you keep telling yourself that,’ Sigmund rolled his eyes but smiled down at the patch. ‘But seriously, thank you. Just like you to know how much my quilt means to me.’
The apprentice swung an arm over Sigmund’s shoulder and grinned heartily. ‘Mmhmm! Now, whenever you pull out your baby blanket, you’ll think of my pretty face~’
‘Unfortunately...’ The upcoming baker laughed at Sigmund’s wry comment.
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As Sigmund started to stitch the newest part, he noticed yet another patch in his peripheral. A simple gold square, industrial in its preciseness rested on the quilt as well. It didn’t do much else except glimmer in all its silky splendor, but in the middle, there was an expertly stitched ‘Florence’ in flowing letters. In the corner was a signature. A popular, expensive brand Sigmund.
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Sigmund stiffly regarded the patch handed to him. It was soft to the touch and glimmered beatifically in the light. He glanced back up at his father, eyes guarded.
The taller, bulkier man returned the stare blankly, but beneath the surface, his eyes were just a touch wary. If it wasn’t unbecoming of a lord to shift nervously, Sigmund was certain his father would be doing just that.
‘Sigmund, it’s for your quilt. In memory of the late Florence, I hope that it makes a fine addition, if only for her.’
Sigmund had to relax at the words, but he seemed to wilt as sadness claimed him again. He tried not to cry, but his voice still cracked. ‘Thank you, father.’
‘It was the least that I could do.’
Sigmund rubbed the cloth between his thumb and forefinger. He looked away, depressed in his sorrow, and his father laid a large hand on his shoulder. It managed to be comforting, despite it all.
One thought remained in his mind. ‘What about mother then? Does she send her condolences?’
Sigmund was expecting as much, but when his father hesitated, he still felt the long-standing anger and disappointment against his birth mother flare up. ‘No, Sigmund.’
The unspoken implication was there. Sigmund’s mother never did care for Florence, nor the quilt the nanny made for Sigmund.
And, if Sigmund was being honest with himself, she never cared for him, either.
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Sigmund softly let the numerous memories wash over him with each stitch. Each of them unique, yet united all the same onto this one spread. The newest patch shifted under his paws, and as he worked, he let this newest memory overtake him, and his heart continued to overflow.
{900/~900}
A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; as I have loved you, that you also love one another.
By this all will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.
- John 13:34-35
A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; as I have loved you, that you also love one another.
By this all will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.
- John 13:34-35
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