What Lurks Near (Private with Piccolo)

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    That is perfectly fine! :D Then I guess it's up to you what physical and personality traits you want your character to have.

    Are you good with both being female? I suppose we never established if this relationship may develop into a disturbing kind of romance xD

    The entity looks borderline human. She mimics your character's main traits so that she looks like a parody of a human being.

    She wears clothing which covers her almost entirely and a black funeral-type veil over her head.


    I think she might be relatively tall and long-haired. Her limbs are long and thin so that she appears almost spider-like, but this trait may be corrected with time, the more she experiences of the world and people around her. I would like her to be almost like a solid shadow at first and perhaps her movements can be awkward and animalistic in nature before your character can teach her to adapt.


    I will try to find a picture as well as a face claim of sorts, if it's helpful!

    Bah, I don't do faceclaims. Using pictures of real people just isn't right to me, does that make sense? I think your description is good!


    I imagine my character to be short, dark haired, and tan skinned. Most of her height is probably in her legs and arms, with a relatively short torso (Maybe that's why the entity has long and thin limbs?). She has dark circles around her eyes and is rather thin because she doesn't get a lot of sleep and often forgets to eat.

    She spends most of her time pouring over occult books, summoning images of ancient unspeakable entities, delving into magic mortals really shouldn't touch, and probably has a copy of the Necronomicon or something.


    How's that sound?

    I feel the same way, but you know :D Not everyone's always on the same page, so I try to cover all the bases.


    That is an awesome little detail - yes, I love the fact that your character shares those similarities with mine. It is almost as though the entity then just tries to copy (albeit poorly) what is on the other side of the mirror and ends up twisted :D I love it!

    It sounds very good to me!


    This gives me the idea that we should perhaps start with the summoning? :D Perhaps this is the first time your character successfully summons something?

    This would be the day.


    Forget that, this would be the morning.


    To be clear, three in the morning - the witching hour. Hundreds of hours spent studying illicit texts, hundreds of failures that had chipped at her sanity, hundreds of days spent studying ancient languages to track down the most rare, grotesque supplies from tribes long lost. All of it culminated in this one ritual, which she had literally poured her blood, sweat, and tears into.


    The scars from such attempts crossed her gaunt skin at every angle, gouged in by a jagged obsidian dagger.


    Dark eyes studied the monstrous stone alter set before her, decorated with silken ribbon and human skin leather. Dark candles flickered around the many skulls, statues, and animal bones which sat atop it. The mirror behind it all cast her own sunken figure back at her, illuminated by dim moonlight and the candles.


    Mary palmed the dagger in her hand, feeling the jagged stone. She was to plunge it into her heart, as though trying to cut it out. If this went right, then she would live despite the wound. If not, then at least there would be some release from this mad obsession.


    So she took a deep breath, one final look at the stars, and shoved the obsidian blade straight through her chest.


    (How was that for a first post? It took me forever to write it, so I hope it's ok)

    (It was lovely! Sets the atmosphere just right <3)


    It had been decades - nay - centuries, since she had been called upon in a fashion so reminiscent of primordial rites. Fitting, proper... reverent, even, some might say.

    Neith didn't always answer the calls, despite the gruesome nature of the ritual which indicated the summoner was quite frantic in reaching for an entity so dark.

    But this was different somehow. Perhaps it was the aeons of oblivion that got to her - humans might have referred to the feeling as loneliness. Or perhaps it was boredom, or a need to toy with those who would unwittingly call upon her name, but Neith stirred and considered the unexpected request.


    No human in as long as she could remember had done the ritual with quite as much care - every ingredient, every step, done to the letter. By the book - exactly as she liked it. She loathed to admit it, but she was very tempted to grant this particular summoner with a response.

    How many had Neith left to bleed without remorse? Many. Some might say too many.

    But not this one.


    This one... was different somehow.

    The light from the candles grew dim and a breeze picked up around the young girl's form. Indeed the scent of blood was strong and Neith was drawn to it more than she had anticipated. The living were an odd sort, but the life within them was something many like Neith craved for.

    The fact that she had been gone so long, forgotten by history and buried under million other names and descriptions was forgotten - all that mattered was that she got closer, ever closer to the source of life that pumped so eagerly just within reach of her realm.


    As her form reflected in Mary's mirror, Neith placed a hand on the glass, welcoming its cool touch. Her voice spread through the air, even and smooth:

    "Touch the glass, my dear, and I shall cure your wounds." The entity whispered, only to Mary's ears.

    Mary stared in the mirror, wondering if everything was just a wild delusion brought on by the fact her blood was spilling uninhibited from her chest. The pain was great, almost unbearable, it blurred her vision and slowed her thoughts to a mere crawl. But she lived, which was a grotesque miracle in and of itself.


    Finally, years of work had paid off. There was no greater satisfaction than that. Even in her bloody, dying state, Mary managed a twisted, satisfied sort of smile. Endless hours and endless suffering, a slow descent into madness, and at last there was something to reward her. Something to prove that the nagging voice in the back of her head, the last traces of her old self, had been wrong.


    Her parents. Her sister. Her friends. All of them had been wrong.


    Then it occurred to her that she was still in great pain, and bleeding out very quickly. The strange whispering drew her towards the reflective glass, even if her thoughts barely registered it was there. She pressed a bloody palm to the glass, feeling faint and yet so alive.

    For a moment there, the entity doubted. She doubted the girl would be able to muster enough strength to complete the ritual - after all, blood was spilling out of her body quicker than even the quickest currents. It was unnerving to consider that after ages of waiting she was only tentalisingly close to any sort of release - to a new chance at experiencing the world of the living.

    The creature in the mirror leaned close, as though it wanted to breathe in the scent of the blood - Neith's mouth opened, wide and hungry, lean stripes of saliva hanging onto her teeth. She had to temper herself - if the human were to die then and there, she would have gotten her hopes up for nothing.


    Neith felt as though her insides would explode when flesh connected with the cool glass of the mirror. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. Air. She hadn't felt that for so long. But there were more pressing matters such as the little one bleeding out - her patron now, in a way.
    Neith wrapped a clawed hand around the girl's and pulled herself through the mirror, past the barrier that had imprisoned her for longer than she cared to remember.


    "Breathe, little one." she cooed, almost motherly as her frame towered unnaturally over the dying girl. Her body could only stretch halfway out of her confinement, but it was enough. One arm wrapped the human and pulled her close, almost as though she was craddling a baby. A sound emerged from what passed for the creature's throat, akin to a lullaby, if but a more unnerving sort.

    With her free hand, she grabbed the knife and plunged the blade into her own chest - a gooey, black substance came out, like tar. It poured over the girl's wound, merging with her very blood and closing the deadly stab.


    "I do not know which you wished for more - me or the sweet release of death." Neith said, her voice marked by an ominous ring. "But I suggest we postpone the final sleep for at least a little while, hm?"