| The Fair Folk; The Good People. The Others. The Old Gods. The Eldritch. | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 13 2011, 10:23 PM (317 Views) | |
| Prince Blanche | Mar 13 2011, 10:23 PM Post #1 |
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Hochmeister
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I've already said a lot about fairies, and I'll probably say a lot more eventually, but right now, this is the concept I finally settled in for Fairies. The Fair Folk: Everyone has heard about them at least once, in offhand mentions as part of tales and lore, in loving detail by lovers of beauty and innocence, or in tales of horror and disgust by those who actually know what they are. they are known by many names, some of them deceivingly endearing: The Good People, the Gentle Lords and the Fair Ladies, the Gentry, the Cousins, the Lovers, the Kindly Ones; all names to hide the harsh truth behind a curtain of beauty and loveliness. Those who are more aware of their true nature, though, call them by names that inspire equal amounts of awe and fear: The Gods of Old, the Others, the Nightmares, the Furies, the Eldritch Ones. The one name everyone agrees on to call them, both in daydreams to praise their elegant grace as in nightmares not to invoke their ire, is that which is most used: The Fair Folk. The Fair Folk appear in many different ways to many different beholders. As blessed creatures of divine light who spread love and joy; as monstrous mockeries of nature that exist to inspire terror and agony; and in a mix of both, as egotistical hedonists who feel no empathy or connection to anyone, and whose beautiful visages or terrible miens are solely masks to wear in order to interact. Of these opinions, it is the last one that bears the truth, for the Fair Folk does not understand of either love or pain as other creatures do, but only regard them as food. Their origins are shrouded in myth and secrecy, at least for the uninitiated. There are those who claim them to be the true Gods of the olden times, wearing either their old glory or new faces modified to survive the times; others who consider them to be born of dreams and nightmares, from the tears of virginal maidens or from the laughter of rosy-cheeked babies; yet others claim them to be spirits of nature, born as expressions of the Mother Earth or the primeval drive of all life forms, as a sort of living embodiment of nature's splendor; and a last school of thought claims them to be a subset from other races, as either merciful angels of a God who abandoned them and from such point went irrevocably insane, to wicked demons sent by the Devil to corrupt and to deceive, to the most graceful and divine of the elves, to the blessed souls of the dead given a new form of "life". And yet, the origin that can be considered the truth, as whispered and murmured about in morbid fascination and even sometimes fear by the Gods themselves, is that the Fair Folk were born as a miscarriage, a stillbirth that fought to retain a semblance of existence even to the point of devouring their parent and creator from the inside out. The Gods claim that once, a powerful and arrogant deity or even an Agonist, in love with his own magnificence and his glory and his beauty, desired to create the mightiest and most breathtaking of all races to act as servants and mirrors to his shining visage. But before he finished them, either out of sloth or due to being blocked and stopped by someone else, he was unable to give them life and to actually create them, leaving them as a mere echo of a dream in reality's memory, a dying dream of a God whose consciousness and driving force were never seen or felt again, leaving behind the rotted, decayed husk of a deity, a divine corpse. In this state of half-existence, of agony at being and not being simultaneously, the Fair Folk took it in their own hands to claw their way out of the metaphorical "womb" that was the mind of their Lord, and to achieve the existence they were denied; in the process consuming what was left of their God, devouring him from within to strengthen themselves. What was once the lifeless peel of an immortal became the nebula from which the stars of the Fair Folk were born; what was once the putrid remains of a divine being became the birthplace of the Fae, and as they grew and developed, this "hive" of sorts wormed its way into Creation once more, infecting it and opening to allow the Old Gods to wander into it. They're not real Gods, they're not real deities, but owing to that spark of the divine, these aborted entities, the fetal dream-like thoughts of a fallen God, managed to attain existence, regardless of the consequences and the madness that was brought out of such means. Owing to their grotesque and unnatural birth, the Fair Folk's connection to Creation is tenuous at best. They're always in danger of slipping through the cracks of reality and being consumed into the ether that makes up their birthplace, their essence and consciousness being dissolved into the background noise of such a realm, either to never be seen again or to have them serve as the building blocks for new faeric beings. To avoid this, the Fae seek to establish themselves as existing by emulating others and creating relationships and memories that will anchor them to reality, but true to their nature, they seek to outdo the originals; they seek to leave a beautiful mark in worlds they see as plain or distasteful, they seek to remove the flaws of a person even if said flaws could never be considered as such by anyone else; they seek that reality follows THEIR desires and designs, so that it can be perfect and pretty, regardless of whether or not reality wants to be that way. What they see as just replacing that which doesn't work is seen by all other creatures of all other kinds, up to and including the Gods themselves, as mutilating entire worlds and taking their people without reason or rhyme to subject them to horrible fates, solely to amuse themselves and to attain their dangerous ideal of what is beautiful. They do not die, and they do not live either, they just "exist" and "stop existing". As a last detail, it must be known that the Fair Folk cannot create at all, just transform. Their power lays on altering that which already exist, on twisting it beyond recognition, of mutilating it until its conscious breaks and its corpse is left as just a mask for the Faery to use as its own face if it wants to or discard if it does not live up to its tastes. They can emanate illusions and impose them into reality, and these illusions (or "glamours" as they call them) slowly are converted into truth by reality itself, as it rearranges to follow their expectations; and they can form contracts with aspects of reality and with individuals that they desire to, striking deals and pledges with all the swiftness and grace of a master of law to manage to bend said aspects and beings to their whims, but they are at heart infertile and sterile, unable to bear fruit to anything. They're nothing more than a mirage trying to reaffirm its own value and place, a dream that tries to become reality, and that bleeds through in their inability to create anything substantial, truthful. And until they can, they will always be considered as just half-beings without a true place, ghosts and shades of a reality that never was, trying to survive regardless of the fact they're not even alive in the first place. Truly, the face are both an interesting contradiction, and a beautiful tragedy waiting to happen, an exercise in both determination and futility. Just as everything they pose their eyes on is doomed to befall a twisted fate, the Fae themselves are nothing but slaves to their own half-formed status, and in this story, it is them that will not last, their passing being unnoticed as all traces of them fade, a beautiful vision that will never remain even in the memories of people. For once they disappear, once they cannot continue anchoring themselves to reality, once the very last of them slips back into their birthplace to dissolve into nothingness, all that once was Faerie will dissolve with him, and all clue of their existence will disappear except for the knowledge of the Gods themselves. A sad end, to a beautiful nightmare. |
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11:53 AM Jul 11