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» Surpassing History
Primo Atto[rado] EmptyThu Apr 23, 2020 3:30 pm by Six

» Xixas Averall - Forged Armaments
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» Zahkir Fulstovka
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» Logos - Archhive
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» Riisa vel Siefreet
Primo Atto[rado] EmptySat Jan 25, 2020 9:45 pm by Six

» Guldfaxe - He of the Golden Mane
Primo Atto[rado] EmptySat Jan 04, 2020 5:54 pm by Octo

» Uriah Engraham
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» (Ch. 1) Threading Needles
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» (Ch. 1) Iron Road
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» (Ch. 1) Fleeting Webs of Wires
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Primo Atto[rado]

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Post by Octo Tue Jan 10, 2017 9:03 am

The true definition of "home" is subjective. For the indoctrinated, it is any place that can make them feel at ease. For the wicked, it is wherever their collection of trophies can remain fresh. For the nomadic, it's either plain all or no plane.

For the Ottavo Erede, however, it was complicated. Despite being burden-blessed with the gift of the Lucioteca, it didn't fill the void that the vermin of homesickness dug deep into his innards. The Lucioteca was his true personal space: allowing for coziness until it leapt from luxury to mundanity; unlimited storage capacity for as many bohemian idols as desired; even despite the fact it could be interpreted as all-yet-none, it still didn't quite feel like home. For the Erede, the Lucioteca was a precious gift - but it was no abode, no matter its plasticity.

Home [hohm] /hoʊm/ (noun):
 "A small, wooden beach hut that's way larger on the inside. Stands atop an island (more like a floating chunk of land), completely surrounded by still ocean waters. Isolated from the rest of its cancerous universe by a transparent sphere of ethereal matter. Good fishing for a hamster ball."

No nostalgia was enough to convince him to return home, however, as his pockets were still clean. Attempting to make his way home in his current conditions would not only be perilous, but also  hampering.

The pest from yonder the globe had found a breach. It seeped in, tuft by tuft, until its Diplomats found means to manifest their form from within the sphere. Brutish parley forced the Erede and his family off the realm, save for the Carpenter, formerly Settimo Erede and current family head. Those macabre negotiations are what sparked whatever sense of adventure the current Erede malformed during his education, but they're also what's keeping him from returning. Until he outgrows the title of bambino, his birthplace is doomed to subjugation. He finds himself obligated to try anything in his power to help his family - even if it means bringing down the poor excuse for a home that some otherwordly esbirros uphold as if it was their doomsday-busting religion.
Octo
Octo
Awaiting

Posts : 123
Join date : 2014-01-26
Location : Luciotavola

Character information
Character Information: President of the Bafflegabinet

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Post by Octo Fri Mar 10, 2017 6:37 pm

"Porcolinno... L'compagno never relayed the hummingbirds and the bumblebees, yet now..."


QuelI -> ExeI {"...It's too late. We thought our state was to keep well-preserved, despite the common apparition of anomalous glimpses. They presented odd features, and..."} ;


"...They boasted power, but... No body turned out mangled, somehow. Those demons deserve the best..."
"...Of immolations! The worst of mercies! Save the full course for those damnated bastards! The Pale Horseman!..."


"...Took papa hostage. And now, they're trying to take the Erede, as well. Yet! Dire as it may be, faltering is unlike my person. Feel free to bring daggers to the shootout, maniacs! Maybe then, the Ottavo will finally..."


"...Spill the beads on this "Settimo Erede". Q'inferno's an Erede? Betting some bucks that this explains why he's been so mortiferamente serious - bonus points if it also clusterblasts some bohemious man-to-man oathing, heh.


--------------------


The children had engorged - in more ways than one. Running too late could snatch away their shot at claiming heir.
Octo
Octo
Awaiting

Posts : 123
Join date : 2014-01-26
Location : Luciotavola

Character information
Character Information: President of the Bafflegabinet

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