heretic update - oh shit
I have to be honest guys, things went absolutely catastrophically for Andreas last session. he lost everything on a wave of his own choices, made hotly, sometimes intelligently, always passionately, and the consequences have set him back so hard that his only way out of darkness was a terrible and genuine spiritual awakening.
when we last left Andreas, it was with his friend Bernadetta accused of witchcraft. her only chance was the successful recreation of an ancient Christian ritual that Andreas hoped to enact while she was on the pyre. he did not believe in God’s grace or goodness, or the inherent power of the story. instead he wanted to trick a miracle out of God, to create the same circumstance in which He had interceded before.
it didn’t work.
Bernadetta indeed ended up on the pyre. she actually started to burn. nothing Andreas had done protected her, and as he became aware of his awful mistake, of his arrogance, he heard her through the smoke, calling out to God. he heard her start to sing as her eyes were opened by something he was blind to. just then, when all hope seemed lost, it began to rain out of a formerly clear sky, dousing the flames, and lightning struck the tree above the pyre, blasting any remainder of Andreas’s carnival of a ritual apart. Bernadetta was saved by a miracle, one she had earned. she said, afterward, nearly insensible but with a blazing focus in her eyes, that she had seen an angel.
Andreas had seen nothing. he had seen nothing, and found himself suddenly arrayed against a God, a divinity, who had reached out of heaven and granted Bernadetta a vision. he didn’t know where his path was supposed to take him now. all his anger, all the furious questions he wanted to spit at God’s feet when he found Him - they seemed to shrink. they seemed, with a painful clarity, questions for a man. one who had never loved him, who had hurt him. they were questions for his father, recently dead at Andreas’s own hand.
then the English army arrived.
(do not forget, never forget, that it’s 1347.)
Edward, the crown prince of the very same, remained imprisoned under Andreas’s sorcery, forced to protect the young comte with his life. the two of them had formed a certain rapport, something that grew out of the scaffolding of watching one another like cats for a mistake. guess which of them fucked up first?
Andreas planned to surrender to the English, on the condition that he and his friends would remain unharmed. as a French noble in the Aquitaine, Andreas somewhat welcomes English rule, and more to the point, if the French took Poitou, Edward would mastermind the rest of his campaigns from Andreas’s palace, which would keep Blanche nearby. Andreas swore, over and over again, that he would do whatever was necessary to stay with her.
so he and Edward agreed: Andreas would stand down without a fight, Edward would rule from Poitou, and Andreas would remain with him, protected, certain of his friends’ safety, and able to take Blanche, Edward’s impersonally betrothed, as his lover.
it was a really really great idea, and a really really fucking stupid mistake. bind the prince of England with dark magic, this prince, and all you have is a jessed hawk, just waiting for you to drop your glove and turn your back.
the English army wasn’t in the palace for fifteen minutes before Edward had Andreas, Philippe and their allies seized and thrown in the dungeons. Blanche was swiftly placed under lock and key. only Bernadetta and Tomassin managed to escape unharmed.
for three months, Andreas rotted away in the cells, very credibly accused of witchcraft. they were the same cells he’d been held in as a boy, as exorcists tortured him for weeks on end. he was fed and well taken care of - any harm visited on him would be refracted on Edward’s own body after all, and the crown prince was no fool. Andreas tried to hurt himself, just to make Edward feel an ounce of pain, but he failed. it’s hard to stab yourself, actually, or break your own fingers, or refuse food. it’s hard to hold onto your sanity in a stone room where your nightmares were born, with no hope of escape, knowing that you were the reason the people you love have been trapped and even killed.
so Andreas waited. in the dark, filled with resentment, scraping himself back together every day out of pure spite. Edward wanted him caged and helpless. but from the very bedrock of his soul, Andreas refused to oblige him. maybe it was that refusal, that hatred, those repeated attempts to open his own skin out of sheer enmity, that brought the dark visitation.
it began appearing in the blackest corners of the cell. not a shape: a presence. a formless predator. something with a terrible focus, the awful held breath at the very edge of a blade. and as Andreas became aware of it and how he could fit between its jaws, it advised him to be patient. to bide his time. it inquired, silently but with force, who his enemy was. it bid him to offer up their soul. Andreas named Edward, and promised the prince’s death to his visitor. for its aid and its vision. the pact was struck.
it was the first sight of something Beyond this world that Andreas had ever encountered. it was the first thing that had ever gripped his soul and brought it shuddering to attention. Bernadetta saw an angel on the pyre, yes. but there in the dark of his cell, Andreas was visited by the Black Captain.
so he held onto the word that had been provided for him by that inhuman advisor: patience. he found that the hallucinations brought on by isolation began to fade. he felt himself getting stronger and sleeping better, though he didn’t need the latter much at all. it was like a transfusion of something hotter than blood.
and then one morning, a young woman in a nun’s habit entered his cell, accompanied by a Spaniard with a sword on his back. the woman asked Andreas directly if he was a witch. shocked at the sight of the pair, he denied it reflexively. in response, she...read him, somehow, Andreas didn’t know what was happening, just that he felt some watery intrusion into his mind before she withdrew, seemingly satisfied.
they needed to hurry, she told him with a grin as the Spaniard swung the cell door open wide. the guards would be coming soon. and if they wanted to get out of here alive, they needed to move.
next update: escape! and what comes after.
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orange, magenta, and honey!!
THANK U JORDIE
red: describe your favorite shirt
I GOT IT LITERALLY YESTERDAY FOR XMAS BUT IT’S SO PERFECT... it’s got that big blocky sunset gradient w a silhouette of a person and a dog in front of it and the person is holding an electric bass, and then it’s got big white font on the top and bottom that reads “It’s what I do. I pet dogs, I play bass, and I know things” in all caps
it’s just like. an average black t-shirt otherwise. BUT IT’S SO PERFECT FOR ME AS A PERSON. I PET DOGS I PLAY BASS AND I KNOW THINGS. I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS SHIRT EXISTS AND CAME INTO MY LIFE I DON’T BELIEVE IN DESTINY IN GENERAL BUT I DO FOR THIS SHIRT
orange: if you could, would you change your eye color? why? to what color, if so?
I don’t think I would - I’ve got a gorgeous medium-light brown right now and I’m hella happy with that! It’s really fun to stand in the exact right spot to make the rainbows from a window prism ornament lay across my eye, it shows off most of the colors of the rainbow super well
magenta: do you keep your fingernails long or short?
SHORT. I play bass, i play upright bass specifically, I literally have to file down my nails every other day and nearly eradicate the white to keep them short enough and they’re STILL nearly too long
honey: your thoughts on magic- does it exist?
you know that post that goes like “magic does exist you fools it happens when you make your friends laugh?” i think of magic basically like that. a lot simpler and nicer than a lot of others believe, and something we can hold in our memories.
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in direct retaliation for all the nice things said about me here’s a quick reminder:
@ichoreyed writes edward elric like an absolute masterpiece and thrives on the descriptive explanation that never sounds forced or wordy they are able to take a feeling, emotion, and thought, and turn it into something dynamic or subtle, just with the smallest twist. it is a genuine joy and pleasure to read their edward because his internal struggle and emotional confusion comes across so strongly and with such prose and power !!!
@izumier writes the purest and best izumi curtis i have ever seen, hands down, on god. every headcanon and meta is so well thought out and descriptive and powerful, rendering me in tears more often than not ( and you can’t just say it’s because i’m a crybaby i mean it. ) her izumi is a joy to read because of how intricately and descriptive she comes across: her internal struggle with letting ed and al go, unaware they will perform human transmutation, combined with her disgust and rage over the military, her own guilt, and her own trauma. arakawa should be honoured someone is writing izumi with the passion and dedication she deserves!
@hakune has prose that sets me into fits every thirty seconds it is elegant and moving, descriptive and with such a flow that you can’t replicate or describe. she is able to take fundamentally different characters ( pride, wrath, ed, and winry, just to name a few ) and expand on their characterization and motivation with such power. she is a genuine joy to read and to talk with, and her characterization is among the best i’ve ever had the joy to experience.
@avadite is, hands down, beyond contestation, the best greed i have ever seen. sky has taken a character who is already complex and multifaceted, and expanded his lore, his reasoning, his backstory, and his motivations. everything she writes strikes each emotion and chord to its fullest extent she is able to make greed sympathetic and disastrous all at once, selfish and heroic in the same breath. his own canon could not be handled with such talent, skill, grace, and joy as sky does, and seeing her posts literally brighten my dash.
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