✧The God-Cursed✧ by BornFromAshes

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Artist BornFromAshes [gallery]
Time spent 3 hours, 56 minutes
Drawing sessions 2
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✧The God-Cursed✧

Postby BornFromAshes » Fri Dec 17, 2021 3:06 pm

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Name; Lulithiel Madainn
Alias; Hayden Morgen (main)
Magic; Light, Telekinesis (learned)
Age; 429
Status; Single. Forever?
Role; Owner of Meadowstar Book and Antiquities
Birthday; December 9th
Orientation; Heteroflexible
▬▬▬▬✧cold✧▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
▬▬▬▬✧calm✧▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
▬▬▬▬✧alert✧▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
▬▬▬▬✧witty✧▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
▬▬▬▬✧tense✧▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
▬▬▬▬✧crafty✧▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
▬▬▬▬✧willful✧▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
▬▬▬▬✧cynical✧▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
▬▬▬▬✧callous✧▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
▬▬▬▬✧scornful✧▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
▬▬▬▬✧mistrustful✧▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
▬▬▬▬✧impersonal✧▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
▬▬▬▬✧noncommittal✧▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
▬▬▬▬✧unsentimental✧▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

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Very few recognize Hayden as his older self, Lulithiel, which in truth works very well for him. An absent-minded stallion, Hayden much prefers the solitude of his bookstore than interacting with customers at his antiquities, but he has to do both, so he complies. He puts on a very good façade, acting jovial and interested while in reality his heart has been cursed to be nearly loveless and disinterested in everything and anyone. He only knows value of objects, and how to get them by less-than clear means, and rarely acts as if he understands others. But he does, more than he lets on. He reads people without emotion, determining their words almost before they speak them. But he is fearful of the one that will stop him in his tracks. The one he believes he has already left behind in time, the only one he will be able to love again. As is his curse from Sacrystis--immortality, to watch the world and his wings rot away while he cannot hold favor or love for anything or anyone-not even himself-except for one person.

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A very old, torn, scrapped piece of paper wrote:I was meant for more than what I am left with. Highly favored, they called me, the Chosen One of the Sun. Destined to be declared a Dweller and given rule of the Sun Temple and the Fountain within it. Instead, I am betrayed, so to remember the series of events for evermore, and to scorn Delilah with its words.

Three months ago, to this very day, I was given a vision by Sacrystis that he wanted me to pursue becoming the Patron of the Sun Temple. He told me I would have an adversary, but I did not know who, and nor did I expect anyone to betray me such. I made a declaration, all the cities were excited and chattering about my coming of power. It was my prime, an inspiring, handsome man with a heart of gold and mind towards the Sun. I was to be married to my sweet Delilah one week after my Dwelling ceremony. I had superseded all the priests and priestesses at the temple, beyond the expectations anyone had of me, and I felt so close to Sacrystis, I could hear it, taste it, feel him close. But... She tricked me, as I see it. She pushed for a choice, either be with her and give up my dream, or break it off with her and give myself to my god. I... chose wrongly in what the god favored, but right within my heart.

Upon the podium where I was to receive Sacrystis' blessing, I made my declaration of love and profession for eternity to Delilah. And as she ascended those steps next to me, her mertail swishing gracefully behind her, she looked me dead in the eye and said "No". She explained, "Because I have always been your adversary, and I give everything to Sacrystis, even my love of you. It is immature of you to think such foolish thoughts of love towards mortality. Now I will ascend and leave you behind."

I stared at her, my mouth dropped and eyes welling with dry tears. As the sun peaked through the glass I raised my wings, my crowning jewels--how beautiful they were--and blocked the sun from touching her. In my rage I lashed and shattered many of Sacrystis' idols. And in fury I bled words from my mouth which I will never renounce. "So you have scorned me, shall I always hate the sun and everything you stand for. I would rather die endlessly than ever love anyone again. You have twisted my desires around me, as you are a serpent among us. I can never imagine a world crueler than the one I live in with you. You pathetic, weak, sniveling worm. I hope-"

I was silenced by searing heat across my back. A figure, caped in warmth and sunlight--but very cold to me--stood high above. "Then let your words ring true, sunless one. You shall forever walk this earth without love, except one who you will not know. You will never feel my warmth again. You will walk among peers and kin and feel nothing, no joy, no rapture, nothing but the coldness and hatred that you have brought to my temple. My Sanctum. Delilah has given all to me, as you were not capable of. Now flee away, worm. You are no longer holy enough to step one foot in here again."
A coldness flooded my veins from that moment. I could no longer see the beauty in myself, as I had before. I could not decipher friendship nor love. I retreated to a hole, and cried myself away for many years.

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It was many, many years after Lulithiel's curse that he began noticing the effects of it. After fifty years of toiling in the far reaches of Eastern Paledon, he finally gathered himself together and stood in front of a store mirror, gazing at his unchanged face. Terror struck him. Had it been as long as he thought? Or a matter of days? But indeed when he asked the clerk about the date, he was really in his 70s! And not a wrinkle on his face, save for the few he had gained from skulking so much before immortality. So with this idea, he plotted a good plan to redeem some of the beneficial fame he had before. He would trail guard patrols, and once building enough courage up after dozens of attempts, he finally made his first rescue, saving a filly from a burning home. The excitement of the crowd and soon the media bolstered him as he kept this up for years on years--about 120 to be exact. But while he kept up his charade and playing 'hero', he found some things disturbing about himself. He always put on a show with smiles and gratitude towards the people he helped, but he never felt genuine emotion towards them. It was almost a job to him, but then again, he felt quite like this around everything now. And on top of it, he noticed his wings were not remaining youthful. They began to lose feathers, permanently, and he experienced arthritis and weakness in all eight of his wings. While his body remained bolstered and agile, his wings deteriorated behind him ▬▬✧✧✧▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
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Charity donations only go so far, and after a while, the elderly and some of the priestesses of the Sun Temple recognized Lulithiel's face and he was ousted. He fled the larger cities and wandered for a very long time until he reached Western Paledon. There he bought a bag from a farmer, which had been enchanted with black-hole magic, and he began plotting. Being a hero didn't work. He couldn't bear smiling and being charming around so many people when the feelings were not genuine to any of them. The only thing he knew, was the value of books and objects. Anyone knew the value of these, so they were easy to barter and bargain for... And, easier to steal. After his two hundred year stint in Western Paledon, to wipe off all the controversy and wait out the death of every individual who might've heard of him by chance, Lulithiel moved back in under a new name, Hayden Morgen. Although he did not start selling the things in a store until roughly five years ago, he did steal items to pay for medical treatments. Books, heirlooms, watches, horseshoes, jewelry, anything he could pocket from brief entrances into houses would go into his bag, and he became very proficient in it. He raided homes at night for another 35 years, very nearly getting caught in his later burglaries, but it cooled off after he decided he had gained enough items and books of value to open shop ▬✧✧✧▬▬▬
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Hayden had sought medical attention over the past hundreds of years, to try and lessen the deterioration of his wings. While some salves and potions worked better than others, they never staved off the damage for long. Being essentially penniless when returning to Eastern Paledon after the 200 years or so, he tried to find his own means of caring for his wings. He wrapped them tightly with bandages and cloth to keep them restrained and unmovable. This is how he lived for a very long time while stealing and collecting items. After selling a good amount of them at a pawn shop, he was able to gather enough savings to go to a real doctor and ask for assistance. Three of his wings were completely amputated, while one was left with a stump left at the base. Defeated, disheartened, and horribly saddened by the loss of his wings, Hayden became very reclusive afterwards. Only venturing at night to steal, he barely did anything during the day except read on street corners while plotting locations. With all the faces passing him by, he had hoped time and again to catch a glimpse--even if a fraction of a second worth--of a face that would jolt his heart. None did so, and he was left in a worse state of mind than before. Many faces would greet him, admire his quiet beauty, and wonder what he was doing out so early, or so late. His disinterested nature was a curiosity to many, but none seemed worried enough to approach and ask. Or maybe it was his brooding expression, the shadow over his eyes, and the lack of warmth his face seemed to possess ▬✧✧✧▬▬▬▬▬▬
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Hayden opened MeadowStar Book and Antiquities five years ago, and while it is not a popular store, it keeps him contented. New items in the antique store are cycled every day, and he has new items for years and years more, after his time thieving. He puts on a very good display of enthusiasm and kindness with his customers, but behind closed doors he is still pensive and disheartened. The bookstore is open to rentals only, working as a sort of pay-me library, while the antique store is for purchase--payment plans not included. What you want, you buy, no questions asked about how, where, why he has said item. Some may call it shady, but Hayden is just trying to keep his hide covered. Although accusations of him having family heirlooms, ancient artifacts, and rare museum-quality paintings have floated through the police and guard systems, no one seems to take the time to care if these accusations are true. No one can seem to catch whether he will have said items redisplayed or not, because once he hears that the item is in question, he stashes it away in his enchanted bag. As for the books? Copies, is all. Very, very close copies, which he says he made himself in inspiration. Hayden is an impeccable liar, having practiced for a hundred years or so, capturing the perfect amount of inflection and tone in every word to make him sound truthful.
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Hayden has gotten to the point where he can
no longer receive medical attention for his
wings, which has left him very desperate
and grieving. A pegasus born with small wings
and incapable of flying because of this is one
thing, but one that had flown for so long and
now has wings that are decaying every year
who is in agony is another. Therefore, he does
not like questions about the condition of his
wings, how they got like that, and recoils
at slight touch towards them. They might still
look vibrant, but he can barely hold them in
an upright position without muscle aches and
severe pain. He has resorted to strange and
archaic magical methods to keep them from
literally falling off his body, but even the
enchanted cloths and sigils are not perfect.

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Hayden believes the "his one true love"
has already passed him, and he
had reason to believe this. He
felt a spark between a mare he
met two hundred years back,
when he was just re-entering
Eastern Paledon for the second
time. He became quite infatuated
with her, until she unexpectedly
left. What he had failed to see
was it was the perfume she was
wearing that allured those around
her, a love potion brewed to attract
just about anyone to her. She was
apprehended for this afterwards,
because at the time it was illegal to
use love potions openly.

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