Riun

Runestone

Drawing the Spiral runestone is rarely an easy omen to accept. It draws from manipulation, though whether the client is the victim, perpetrator, or both depends on the context. They might be the ones lying to themselves, adopting a defeatist mentality in response to their circumstances. They might be caught in a trap, tangling themselves further the more they try to escape it. Reversed, the Spiral starts to spin outwards instead of inwards. They are finding their way out of this manipulation, though it is not an easy or straightforward process.

Playlist transparent text Under the Gripping Beast – Echo’s Children Faust, Midas and Myself – Switchfoot

Tarot Card

OwO Solilojay was here

Once upon a time, there was an orphan. Some pitiful, snot-nosed brat with no survival skills. You try and see how far begging gets you when, at seven years old, you're already the size of most grown dragons. She was cold, and she was hungry, and she was restless in some well-intentioned but underfunded orphanage, ostracized by the other children for the silver spoon she once possessed. She was easy prey. It ate on her spite and her grief and her loneliness, whispered the sweetest of nothings into her tiny ears. And poor Riun, nine years old, too smart and mature to believe that she had been fooled, fell in head over heels. She believed that she could trick a demon. It's at this point where Riun has told me that she deserved everything that happens to her next. Obviously, I beg to differ. Regardless of what I might think, she traded her soul for a book, a thick tome bound in the finest and softest of leather, containing masterworks of song and poetry, a sliver of creation itself. She quickly regained her former social rank, hailed as a prodigy in music, practiced her harp until her fingers bled (and only stopping then as to not damage her instrument). And to break her deal and retrieve her soul, all she had to do was burn the tome. She was fourteen, the first time she tried; it ended with her clawing through embers in a fevered haze, weeping upon the singed pages. She wrote her own songs without using the book, tried to prove to herself that she didn't need it - only to be universally panned, and her darkest fears confirmed. Now knowing she was a fraud through and through, she clutched the book ever tighter. So many 'one more concerts', 'one more week', 'one more hour'. Until a dear, if unlikely friend finally helped her let go. I only came to know of her work after her golden age, but... I still think her creations are quite beautiful, myself. She still makes a steady living as an artist, so surely I must not be alone in thinking so?

OwO Solilojay was here
Riun knew demons. She was far more familiar than she would have preferred to be with them, at times. She knew the swirling dark, darker than dark, with too many soft blue eyes that placed a fang on her heart as a sobbing child and convinced her to sell her soul. She knew the snarls of a beast that had lived in a place darker than dark, a beast that strained and threatened her mind to even gaze upon. It's cruel words rippled her form like she was made of paper and threatened to dissolve her entirely.

She knew a pastel Pearlcatcher with warm golden eyes. She walked the realm of mortals with a smile much too sharp for an insectivorous dragon, and sometimes she spoke of things that Riun couldn't understand, with too many voices and a hungry look in her eyes, her laugh haughty and cruel. She went by Nimue, but that was not her name, not truly, speaking her true name drew blood from her ears and tasted like the shattering of glass.

"I know, I know, regifting's a bad habit, but I think you'll enjoy this." Nimue said, practically bouncing up and down as Riun placed a claw on her present. She didn't care much for birthdays, usually, but Nimue had been thoroughly charmed by the concept, and Riun supposed she could humor her. Nimue was smiling with a childish sincerity. "C'mon, open it open it open it-"

"You're thousands of years old, you can wait a minute longer." Riun huffed in response as she unwrapped her present, and when the box sprung open, her expression faded into one of pure shock. She wanted to speak, but she felt her heart stuck in her throat. She had never seen one, but she knew what it was, deep in her chest. The hollow pit in her heart thrummed with anticipation. It had been empty for so long, she had forgotten the warmth that was supposed to live there.

"Happy birthday, Riun!" Nimue cheered. Nimue the demon, the Insatiable, the Fifth of her Kind, was laughing from pure joy as a little golden orb floated back into Riun's chest, as if it had never been gone in the first place. "It took a lot of work getting that back for you, but ha, you should've seen the look on your face! So worth it."

Here is a secret: souls are not to Nimue's taste. They taste awful, she says with a shrug, stringy and bitter. It's odd how she bargains and steals them from her demonic brethren, then, whenever the urge to cause mischief rises too high to resist. Hollowmaw would not tolerate a Thief of Souls living within her walls.

If said Thief stole them from dragons, at least. And luckily, she does not. She's more than happy to return them home - for a ludicrous amount of candy, of course.

(The fee was waived once, and only once, for a singer called Riun.)

Extras!


Extra bit of writing starring Riun here.

Extra Writing V2

She has a story by Kongming here that I absolutely adore, thank you again! Here's a link to the lore shop~