Still Doll: Creation Story

Faerie is the realm of the earth, an alternate plane of which a new race of immortal beings, the Fey are born, the offspring of angels and demons, both wicked and lovely, their sprits ever changing, everlasting, part of the earth, woven into the fabric of its very essence and yet independent, harnessing the spiritual energy of their realm to manipulate at will in the form of magic. Cruel devastatingly radiant beings, seemingly emotionless, and deadly unpredictable.

There exists a world forged from the intimate exchange of angel and demon as they lay twined upon the earth parallel to that of the mortal realm yet veiled from mortal beings. The first of a new race is born, bursting forth from the flesh of the angel, quickly destroying the demon nourished by the blood of its first kill, a being of terrifying beauty and impulsive destructive energy is born.

Nahknahmein (nahk-nah-mane): the first of the Fey. Nahknahmein stands on the blood stained earth like a god, nude save the armor he forged in the womb, smoky violet hair cast out in waves about his temples, silver eyes veiled and cruel, features sharp and harsh, hacked as if from a sculptor’s angry passion, expressionless yet irresistibly beautiful. His smooth marbled skin glimmers like pearl (caked with blood), veined with strands of violet, armed with shield and spear. From his sharp shoulder blades a pair of thin membranous wings burst forth from his spine, twining from the flesh like a dragonfly.

He dies moments later, disintegrating into ash that like the death of a phoenix forges life anew and from his remains two fey are born The swan and the raven: Valius Elias Du Seelie and Dulcia Drahkona Duhn Seelie. Valius stands as an angel, like the sun personified, radiating light from his very flesh, tumbling tresses of glimmering golden locks cascading down his wiry back like liquid sunlight as the wings of a swan burst forth from his back while his opposite embodied, cool and silver as the moon dipped in night stands Dulcia, half hidden in his kinsman’s shadow, reflecting light like the surface of a mirror, appearing luminous as a result. Coarse shadowy strands of night spill across his shoulders in shining pools of ebony as narrowed silver eyes fix on the swan before him. He smells of blood and smoke, his armor hardened feathers, his teeth clicking like a beak, taloned fingers flexing.