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Second Image: https://cdn.nickpic.host/images/zMHxP.gif
Age: unrecorded
Alignment: lawful neutral
Occupation: head of immigration
Application: http://newgame.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=585
Shipper: http://newgame.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=1125
Wanted: n/a
Quote: I am noble too, oh lord of wolves. Starlight was my mother and my father was the dark.
Race: awoken
Fandom: destiny
Adjective: REGENT
Preferred Pronouns: she/her
Height & Weight: 5'6" | 126 lbs
Development: http://newgame.jcink.net/index.php?showtopic=284
Alias: Ysa
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Joined: 14-May 17
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Last Seen: Oct 10 2017, 01:32 PM
Local Time: Oct 21 2017, 08:47 PM
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Mara Sov

Lawful_Neutral

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Jul 14 2017, 07:31 AM
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semi-open || preferably someone she hasn't met.


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<div class="truelove1"><div class="truelove2"><div class="truelove2a"><i class="fa fa-wifi"></i><i class="fa fa-signal"></i> 23:38</div><div class="truelove3a">

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<div class="truelove3"></div></div><div class="truelove4">

<span>Mara Sov</span>
<br>to <b>fucking whoops</b>

</div><div class="truelove5"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><tr valign="top"><td><div class="truelove5a"><a href="http://shine.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=3019"><div class="truelove5b"><i class="fa fa-envelope"></i></div></a></div></td><td><div class="truelove6">


<div class="tlbubble">disable sound</div>

<div class="tlbubble">turn off</div>

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<div class="tlbubble">delete</div>

<div class="tlbubble">stop</div>


</div><div class="truelove6a"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><td><div class="truelove6c">Send Message...</div></td><td><div class="truelove6d"><i class="fa fa-send"></i></div></td></table></div></td></tr></table></div><div class="truelove2b"></div><div class="truelove2c"></div></div></div></div></center>[/dohtml]
Jun 13 2017, 02:22 PM
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There are branches of the subway system — designed or forced by Kadath's furtive nature — more or less untouched, where the stink of disuse and earth is harsher. Old, wet dirt is an aggravating smell, worsened by the iron of rusted metal that lines the walls, by fetid puddles of muddy water along the path. Not rain so far underground but flooding, confirmed by the scum that coats the base of the walls. It is nearly a foreign smell to her now. Years spent cradled in the Astroid Belt were dotted very infrequently with trips planetside, most of which she did not leave the intimacy of Awoken ships during. It was rare now (then, comes a leeching reminder) for her to leave The Reef at all with her guard, her Paladins, and her Crows to watch for her, and her to reach out, if necessary. Many Awoken simply did not leave the sanctity of The Reef, not since their beginnings. Not since it was all they could do but scavenge and hide. It is a thought that is as unsettling as this corridor is long because it makes her think of ends as well. Of Oryx and the weight anchoring her heart to her gut: that she has no knowledge of the After this time. Instead, she focuses on the reek of earth, not the absence of space, to avoid focusing on her where's and why's.

<p>

It would, she resolves, be unwise to lose her focus down here, as she steps to the other side of the footsteps she follows to keep them in the alternating and fading lights pinned to the walls. The rhetoric lingers. There is an end to the footsteps she traced backward from Kadath. The line where the dirt met the concrete as indents in what had been muddy ground, changed to fading imprints on the cobblestone. Where they had led from this abandoned shaft of the subway system toward the fading sound of the train she could make out now to find the guard to deliver them to the city. It is a common tale of Kadath's refugees: found lost and bewildered, occasionally wounded, and directed to Kadath's center to compound their fate by registering as a civilian. For some there is relief Mara cannot look at. For others, the fear lingers, the misery. And others, like her, drown themselves in it.

<p>

What her trail lacks is a beginning. Also painfully common, but it does not stop her jaw from setting as she stops, lips a tight line as she drags her gaze over the dirt. A hefty dip in the path, the destroyed outline of a man strewn in the middle of the passage. Then a struggle, maybe, but more likely just the frantic motions of the man they'd brought to Intelligence, panicked limbs at walking up in such an awful place. Another human. Her eyes flicker up, linger on the darkness that expands past this start, this entry point from wherever Kadath's new citizen and come from and here. The lights strung along the walls do not continue for much longer as if all of Kadath began and ended at this point. As if it existed only to funnel another citizen, another hostage, to the belly of the beast.

<p>

She is still for a long time. Slight inclines of her head as she shifts her vision to scrape over every inch of this arrival. Her fingers twitch at her side, calm, but alert, Seeking things that go unseen. Seeking that voice. Absent. Empty. Alone. A hollowness mirrored under her skin for all those absent names. There is no debate. One, two, three strides before the lights end. She takes a fourth and doesn't stop.



</div><div class="ad_astra">Vincent A291 || <b>notes:</b> bye bye macadam - rone
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May 14 2017, 08:46 PM
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YSA. DISCORD. CENTRAL.

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<div class="tabs">

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<label for="tab-1">one</label><div class="thcontent"><div class="thfirsttab">

MARA SOV

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<li>unrecorded</li>
<li>awoken</li>
<li>female</li></ul>

<ul><li style="width: 250px;">Lawful Neutral</li></ul>

<ul><li style="width: 250px;">Intelligence</li></ul>

<ul><li style="width: 250px;">destiny</li>

</ul><ul><li style="width: 250px;">AFTER THE DESTRUCTION OF HER FLEET ABOVE SATURN</li></ul>
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<p><center><div class="alanwatts"> If you awaken from this illusion, and you understand that black implies white, self implies other, life implies death — or shall I say, death implies life — you can conceive yourself.
<p><br>
<center>a w o k e n<br></center><p>
</div></center>








You become so suddenly that you are everything and for it nothing.

<p>

Hazy lights shift into focus. Stars. Like little suns, you feel a warmth from them, from all of them. And still, it is not enough to stave off the cold that radiates between the spaces. Overwhelmed and swimming, you sit up, dizzy, dark tendrils creeping into the corners of your vision. Stars and darkness. A question somewhere deep. Something like 'did we make it?' Something like 'am I alive?' But the voice doesn't sound like the one you haven't used yet. It doesn't feel like it is yours. What it feels like is dead. Foreign. An answer in itself.
<p>
The disconnect is starting to recede and the ache is your first understanding. On your skin and in your marrow, it writhes. Your body burns with fresh scarring and underneath the light plays, pulsing like blood. They are separate, a friction, a boundary, and that is your second understanding: the difference between the searing heat of pain and the soothing cold of knowledge. An enlightenment that strangles the rising fear. Each insight makes you more whole, carves you from the darkness, attempts to make you a star. You feel like you could be, you might be, even as your fingers shake tracing the scars on your skin. From what? An explosion? You remember light. A memory that is someone else's. You remember staring through glass. You remember the Dark and the thought pulls away, jerks, and you know that whoever that was, they own the voice that is fading. The sound they made as they burned out is the same. Whoever they were, it is not you, because.
<p>
You are.
<p>
You are new. You are now. These are your third and fourth understandings.
<p>
Your fifth is that you are not alone. In this moment, you do not understand the weight of this, what it will mean when they start singing. Instead, you focus on the feeling of being alone and that it is absent. Not physically and not even in the disorder in your head. You deal with the physical first. Deal with grounding yourself in a sea of stars. There are bodies around you, one close enough to touch. You don't, you only stare as the sounds in your head shiver into words you can understand. This body before you is a shade of violet, not like the blue you see stretched over the bones of your hands. Different, but the same. You know you are alike because, under the purple, light is sparking, flickering, trying desperately to ignite. To be.
<p>
You head inclines and you are spurred to speak, to fill the dead space around you with something living. To spur that little flame to be a fire. Not alone. "Wake."
<p>
The sound of your own voice is jarring. It creates something more than noise. There is no one else, but someone, something, answers.
<p>
It says a word or, at least, makes a noise that you understand as speech. Mara.
<p>
It drags your eyes up, sends the light in them to shine through the dark. You know that it is yours. Mara. That is you. You are and you are Mara. No part of you fights it because that voice, that dead voice inside of you when you opened your eyes, has already dissolved. With your gift, with more of you, you redirect your attention to the man before you, still trying so desperately to exist. Uldren, the noises say. This time your own voice echoes it, twinned to the sound. They are both your words and someone else's. Another glance, further. Petra. Ives. Illyn. Shuro. You know all of them. More names than anyone could know. But they are carved into your skin, under your eyelids, on the bone.
<p>
There are other things on the bone. This understanding is the hardest.
<p>
You don't realize you are struggling to breathe until you can't. The body in front of you shakes in your wake, jerks, flares, becomes. Eyes snap open. Light pools from them. Gold. You seek words to put to the emotion that chokes you. You can feel the fear you've already pacified starting to settle over him. He finds your face, gasping a breath that reminds you to do the same. You watch the starlight ripple over, under, through his cheeks. Now he can use his name, you think, and it makes you smile, makes him pause. You do touch him now, skate fingers over the shoulder, incline your head as he pacifies at the touch. You breathe together. You want to tell him his fears are unwarranted.
<p>
You don't open your mouth, but maybe you say it anyway.
<p>
You look together when there is another whole. Uldren sits, lonely and then not alone as he studies his hands. You feel his change: he is understanding. You stand and watch in awe as stars blink into existence. You taste their names. You feel each one of them as they are born, revived, created, restarted, reinvented, becoming. Some of them find answers fast and reach for others. Some of them weep.
<p>
Some of them sing.
<p>
Your heart aches. Your first understanding and your last. You watch the cycle repeat on another face, the stragglers, feel a new fear shuddering away before it can take hold. Flickering, burning, afraid, knowing. You smile and find your voice again. "We are a beautiful creation," you say, overwhelmed by the truth of it. "And we must keep ourselves very safe."
<p>
You do.






<p><center><div class="alanwatts"><p><br>
<center>a b s o l u t e<br></center><p>
</div></center>






It is not easy to build from nothing but you do that too. Together you are unstoppable, this you know, and you spin roles and titles from the dark. You make every single one of them feel wanted, necessary. They feel it because you feel it. That each one of them is unique. You do not know the extent of which they feel your love for them. You won't for some time because you are so engrossed in keeping everyone together. Happy. Safe. Every day the secrets grow. Not from them, never from them, but the staying hidden, the staying safe erodes every thought. You only want them to be safe.

<p>

A home is built: The Reef.

<p>

A race is built: The Awoken.

<p>

Some of you find it easier to find the understandings. Many of them that sang on the day you were born excel. You use this to move, evade, keep your light hidden in the dark where it belongs. You use it to bring resources. To make sure things go smoothly. To make sure no one is lost in the abyss of the dark.

<p>

They give you a title: Queen. Queen of The Reef: of the home. Queen of The Awoken: of every single one of them.

<p>

You love them so much that it hurts, but this gift almost destroys you.

<p>

It settles on you, another weight, this time on the head rather than the shoulders. Like a balance, you know how to repay them.

<p>

You will give them everything.








<p><center><div class="alanwatts"><br> Not conceive, but feel yourself, not as a stranger in the world, not as someone here on sufferance, on probation, not as something that has arrived here by fluke, but you can begin to feel your own existence as absolutely fundamental. ❞
<p><br>
<center>w r a t h <br></center><p>
</div></center>



You have suffered losses. Its inevitability does not make it hurt any less. Awoken lost to the dangers of space, killed in the war with the fallen, hunted by humans after you saved their city because of a mistake by your command. (You do not think of those you sent away. Those you exiled. How it choked you, left you sick, bile in your throat. You do not think of Petra, desperate to come home.)

<p>

You have suffered losses.

<p>

The first massacre is in your own home.

<p>

A sea of blood and shredded house banners.

<p>

The House of Wolves you broke, the House of Wolves you'd made yours, the Fallen you had spared ran through your guard. Betrayed.

<p>

They whisper of Skolas.

<p> Skolas, who had been yours too. Broken and imprisoned. Skolas, who you had gifted to The Nine.

<p>

You let that beast out of your sight, sent him away. Believed that despite their irritation the Jovian were still your allies. And now Awoken lay dead at your feet. In your home. Their home. The place you designed to protect them.

<p>

You have suffered losses. You know victory and defeat. You know loyalty and betrayal. There are no words to explain the suffocating ire in your chest. You burn.

<p>

They will feel it.

<p>

But you will lose no more Awoken to this. Not to Fallen hands. Not to the Jovian's petty revenge. Not to your mistakes.

<p>

Swallowing fury, you open The Reef.


<p><center><div class="alanwatts"><p><br>
<center>e m p i r i c a l<br></center><p>
</div></center>





"Mara -- "
<p>
"You will address her as Queen."
<p>
It has been a long time since the scolding brought a smile, small and secretive. Too long. Now, it dredges things you do not want to think about. How you are always in mourning: names carved into the bone that you cannot let go of. Awoken lost to time, space, your enemies, you. Awoken that left you, defected, to leave this haven to head to the Cosmodrome for reasons you still do not understand. Awoken you banished, made a statement of. The first Awoken you reinstated from exile, granted them the rights of a citizen again.
<p>
You try to think of better things. Crushing the Fallen. Diverting the Hive. But all of them come with casualties, even as the Awoken's grasp expanded. The victories slip away quickly. Loss follows with the same vigor as Guardian Ghosts. The Fallen rebelling under Skolas. All the Awoken you lost to those barbarians when they rose up under the Kell of nothing. Crota and his son, who now threatens everything.
<p>
Something always threatens everything.
<p>
The nav channels are thick with Guardians from the Cosmodrome. Every ship hurts your head. Necessity, you remind yourself, as they thin out your Prison in the trials. The Nine is edging in. You cannot challenge them now, cannot afford their games, not with Oryx, Crota's son, slinking closer. Osiris in one hand, Eris Morn in the other, and still --
<p>
Is it enough?
<p>
"Mar -- My Queen?"
<p>
It has been a long time too since you have lost track of yourself.
<p>
Your silence is not uncommon and you use it to recount what was said. "Send a Crow to Mercury."
<p>
"Yes."
<p>
They bow, leave. Uldren's face is still working, still holding some secret he has only for you. You know him well enough. You spun the greatest titles for him: brother, heir, prince. A tilt of your head is all it takes for the throne room to empty. Save Uldren. Always save Uldren who likes to think he is above the rules. Who might be.
<p>
"This is not our problem," he says, spits when you are alone. It has been a full day since Eris and Osiris left but he has been stewing in this anger since before the audience took place. He turns on you, aggressive, even as your posture does not shift, lazy in the throne. "Guardians flood The Reef and to save them, we -- "
<p>
"Do not insult yourself, Brother." Your eyes flicker up. A coldness he is not prepared for. You watch him go rigid as you slide from your chair. "That beast," venom on the word that surprises both of you, "will not be sated on Earth alone." You touch his shoulder as he moves to let you pass, his body obedient where his mouth was not. "Do not insult me by presuming my choices are for them."
<p>
Your eyes cut, pin him, pacifying whatever anger he had left in him. You are on the same page now.
<p>
You are both already mourning.
<p>
You smile. It is not happy. He understands.
<p>
It is what you think of on your ship when you've recovered from sending the Harbingers. You think of Uldren, somewhere out in the coming blast. You think of Petra, who is no doubt clawing at the walls of The Reef, desperate to be by your side but helplessly obedient. You think of all of the Royal Guard laid bare before you, each of their names sticking in your throat as the blue that overtook your eyes fades back to the pupils that watch the Dreadnaught charge.
<p>
You think of The Reef. Of all the Awoken this decision has saved.
<p>
You think of all the Awoken this decision has lost.
<p>
It happens so quickly that you barely have time to think her name: Eris, my hidden friend.
<p>
The blast from the weapon of Oryx's ship dissolves the front of your ship, steals the air, and you feel, for the first time, afraid. You will be gone. If not for a long time, then forever. And if the bargain falls through, if Eris cannot spur the Guardians, The Reef --
<p>
You might have cried if you'd had the time. The Reef.
<p>
Do not let this be for nothing.
<p>
But it is not Eris you call to. It is Uldren. You can hear him screaming.
<p>
Do not fear, brother. This was the only choice I had.

<p>
This is all. Part of the plan. Everything.
<p>Except Kadath.







<p><center><div class="alanwatts"> What you are basically, deep, deep down, far, far in, is simply the fabric and structure of existence itself. </div></center>













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<center><div class="alanwatts">I.</div></center>

<p>

First and foremost, it should be noted that while comparable to humans in all physical aspects, Awoken bear three notable differences to their inferior brothers, all of which can be found just by looking at them.<p>
a ) Skin color varies from each Awoken, but they are primarily shades of blues, purples, and grays, occasionally with tints of green. Assumed to be a byproduct of their human life ending, most Awoken can be noted as different immediately from this alone. Mara herself is a pale blue and takes a great amount of pride in being Awoken ( read: she's a fucking racist ).
<p>
b ) While skin color is primarily the first point of reference, the second and equally obvious difference is Awoken eyes. Children of starlight and darkness, the Awoken have glowing irises that can come in a broad and somehow an even more unnatural array of colors than their skin tones, from blue to orange to white and everything in between.
<p>
c ) Last but not least is a combination of the attributes above and can go unnoticed to the unattentive or at long ranges. Melded with starlight on their birth, all Awoken have a "ripple" under the skin. A pulse of starlight similiar to the veins visible under human skin, save for the fact that they, once again, glow. These are often thin, spider-webbing pulses under the skin, visible to the human eye, though in areas where the skin is stretched tighter over bone, such as the jawline, it can be a constant shiver of light.

<center><div class="alanwatts">II.</div></center>

<p>

Awoken are twinned to many things: darkness and starlight, life and death, now and then. These dualities granted them powers in insight, not so unlike the Guardians of the Cosmodrome, who were gifted with Solar and Arc and Void. Mara is the most attuned of all the Awoken, one of the many reasons she took the position as their Queen. She harbors an affinity for clairvoyance, but due to her control, is not as often plagued by premonitions as other Awoken with similar abilities often are. She has an aptitude for forms of telepathy and projection, including, but not limited to reaching out to other sources and sensing the world through them. Not only can see whispers of the before and the next, Mara can connect with events in the now and even attempt to communicate with them. She is named as the only Awoken that can move freely into The Veil, a mysterious boundary that seems to determine fate. She can commune with forces beyond her and can take with her gifts from those places. She retains an ability to call on them all, the visions, The Veil, the stars, and the dark.

<p>

And when Mara calls, things answer.

<p>

Hailing these forces, such as the Harbingers she used against many enemies to decimate their fleets, is strenuous on its own. From fatigue to physical duress to the threat of death, channeling things beyond her space is dangerous solo, a burden that once was eased significantly by the assistance of her Techeun or Awoken tech-witches. In Kadath, without proper assistance, it would be traumatic, if not almost impossible, to receive assistance from the forces she has communed with in the past. But Kadath harbors many things, races, secrets Mara does not yet understand. Perhaps she'll find something else to bind.

<p>


<center><div class="alanwatts">III.</div></center>

<p>

While the details of awoken society and culture are as mysterious as their birth, one glance confirms that for however long they may or may not live, they have but one life to do it through. No Awoken in The Reef is followed by a Ghost, and while that is common in Kadath as well, it is important to note she does not have one. Mara was born in darkness and starlight and it does, regrettably, not come with gimmick from the depths of space to resurrect her if she should die. While she may scowl at the association to humans, they do have similarities in weaknesses. She can be fatigued and mortally wounded and death is, one assumes, permanant. Being Awoken in Kadath's less than natural state does pose it's own problems as her attunement to unnatural forces may make her more susceptible to interference.

<p>

Calling on any great amount of power has an unfortunate tell for Mara. As mentioned above, Awoken's eyes have a glow to them, and communing with powers or readying large energy sources drastically increases the luminosity of her iris. Using an excessive amount can cause the glow to take over her entire eye -- iris, pupil, and sclera -- until she's finished channeling or reduces the amount she's pulling.


<center><div class="alanwatts">IV.</div></center>

<p>

She just wants to go home.
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