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Maeve Van Alst

i learned that the only thing holier than word is blood | aries

0 · 379 views · located in The Cosmos

a character in “Yuanfen”, as played by SpiritDancer



"After Lilith Van Alst had abandoned Aesir, the country was left to fall into ruin. Infrastructure had completely deteriorated over the decade-and-a-half that Aesir with left without a leader, and the streets were filled with rioters. However, in 1795, Maeve Van Alst—the daughter of Lilith—was crowned Regna, and ever since Aesir has continued to prosper and regain it's former glory."

excerpt from "A Collection of Annals: Aesir from 1700 to 1800", written by Silas Antonis

ruler of aries / 21 / aesir / corrupted blood / ruri unsou

C O R R U P T E D . B L O O D




Her blood is corrupted. Tainting everything it touches. Poisoning everyone who drinks it. In small quantities, a fifth of a liter or less of blood, it will only make them as sick as food poisoning would. Stomach cramps. Vomiting. Nausea. For anyone who consumes more than this ⁠— say a cup of her blood — it has the chance of inflicting them with a corruption that is unique to Maeve's blood. Drinking multiple cups? That person would die in a day. It results in a volatile, noncontagious version of the corruption. Once the blood starts pouring, it doesn't stop, and any person would die due to blood loss.

In the case that someone drinks too little to die, but just the right amount, they have a chance of being corrupted. The corruption has the tell-tale signs of many other illnesses, such as fevers, severe headaches, muscle pain, and fatigue. Without any sort of purification, with nothing to stop the corruption from permeating deeper, it increases in severity, resulting in unexplained hemorrhaging until eventually the person dies from blood loss. However, if the corruption reaches such a state, it becomes contagious. Any who touches the body fluids of a corrupted person, whether they are living and breathing or a corpse, will most likely become corrupted as well. The corruption is capable of spreading quickly in a population that has no means of curing it.

Even if it's not consumed, Maeve's blood is still harmful. However, when it's not drunken like a thick, red wine, it carries none of the same qualities. No sickness. No blood flowing freely from every open pore, dripping and spilling until you're drained. But, upon touch, it burns like rubbing salt in a fresh wound. Nothing too dangerous, you certainly won't die from it, but it's unnerving all the same. A substance that gives life to one can so easily take life away from many. Many.

There is a balance to keep with all things in life. An equal exchange in power. Although Maeve's blood is a powerful weapon, one that she uses as she fancies, with little care for the harm it might cause, to do anything major with it she needs to bleed. A lot. A slight cut on her finger to spill a drop of two is fun when it comes to messing with people, watching them flinch away at the sight. One or two ounces of her blood makes people sick, which would be even more fun to watch if only it didn't clear up in a few days.

To make someone ill, to make them truly suffer until they're cured, or to make them suffer for weeks until they eventually die, requires at least half of a liter of blood. To kill them in a day? To wring them dry of blood until their skin feels like parchment left out to dry in the sun? That takes a liter of blood. Maeve could always gather the blood gradually, and in fact, she does. A little bit of bloodletting comes every other day. It's a slow process, and once Maeve starts bleeding, at least enough for it to be a meaningful way to gather blood, it's hard to get her to stop.

Her blood doesn't clot. Her wounds don't heal as fast as they should. Instead they remain open. Red. Raw. It's not a big deal if it's a small cut. A bandage or two is enough to keep the wound protected. Keep the blood from spilling. With anything major? The blood just pours and pours, until the wound is tended to in some way. Or until she's bled dry herself. But knowing this doesn't bother her like it should.

If anything, it just makes the process more enjoyable to her.

☐ │ food in general, alcohol
☐ │ knifes, daggers, animals
☐ │ meats, blood, fun people
☐ │ hunting, sunlight, summer
X X. x x x x x x
☐ │ cold, winter, killjoys
☐ │ pride, waste, maybes
☐ │ blandness, purity, rain
☐ │ inadequacy, being alone

The memory of that night a scream, the white-hot fact of it, the
overwrought echo of the scream. Beautiful. Unclean. Unclean.

ImageImage P E R S O N A
"But why else would
this feel like insanity?"

moral alignment: chaotic evil

Her earliest memories are of butlers and maids. Servants who would tend to her every need, grant her every wish.

Maeve was never truly forced to grow up, and even now there are still remnants of the young child that she was, screaming and throwing tantrums when things didn't go her way. There was no family around to speak of, and at that age she never thought to question why. One thing she did know, however, is that she felt deathly alone, with no one but her servants to play with. Another thing that hasn't changed, despite having many things to play with now. Pretty little dolls that will bend and break themselves whichever way she wants.

But even now it's not enough—it'll never be.

As she grew older, she does distinctly remember playing with others her age, children of the servants that had been taking care of her all her life. But she also grew more perceptive. Maeve saw the way they looked at her, as if they wished they could disappear into smoke any time she came near.

She paid more attention to the whispers of those around her, and over time, she managed to piece together a few morsels of information.

Her mother had been the previous Aries. She was missing now, vanishing into smoke like so many others wished they could. Now the kingdom of Aesir was in a state of chaos. With no one left to govern them, the country fell into anarchy. Her mother's advisers had long fled the country—otherwise, they were killed in the numerous riots. Their limbs, torsos, and heads paraded around on the streets like the spoils of war. The palace had longed been locked off from the outside world. No one could get in, and the populace of the country was led to believe that it was abandoned for good.

From there it didn't take long for her to put the rest of the puzzle together. Piece by piece, she began to understand why the palace always felt empty. Even ghosts dared not to wander the halls. She understood the fearful glances of the children, and now that the context of her life had changed, Maeve didn't blame them. She began to question herself, ponder the reasons of her mother's absence. Perhaps it was her fault after all.

Or at the very least, that's what she had gathered from the servants. They looked at her like she was a stain on the world, one they wished they could scrub clean with bleach. The devil's child, they would call her, mocking the pointed horns that curled up from her head.

But, they needed her all the same. After all, making Maeve the next Aries would've been the only way to restore order to the country, even though she could never truly be Aries. Her mother would forever hold that title, so long as she had the Caelios crystal. Slowly, Maeve began to curl in on herself, as a bug does when it's close to death.

It was all a little too much to bear. Too much to understand. It wracked her brain, made everything hazy. A dream brought on by the suffocating heat of summer.

Somewhere along the way she had snapped under the pressure. She couldn't tell you when, or where. These days, it's hard to imagine Maeve as anything else but unhinged. She cares little for the suffering she inflicts on others. Of the blood she lets drip so freely from herself and from others. It'd be best to describe as a game to her, testing how far she can pull and tug at someone until they tear in her hands. There's no rhyme or reason to the things she does. There doesn't need to be, just as long as it's fun. Just enough for her to get some entertainment out of it before she moves on to the next toy, throwing away those who have been broken and used.

Her most prominent memory had taken place a little ways after her sixteenth birthday. She had awoken to the noise that her mother had been found. A small ember of hope had been kindled in her chest, a small, pathetic little flame. And Maeve snuffed it out herself. She knew better than to expect anything anymore. When she first saw her, her mother looked less like a person and more like a wild animal wrestled into shackles. Dirt and blood matted her hair, but even then Maeve could see a few bright pink strands peak through the grime and muck.

Lilith. It was the first time she had heard her mother's name spoken.

The ritual for transferring the Caelios to Maeve was all but delayed, and Lilith didn't resist in the slightest. Within minutes, Maeve could tell that something about her body had changed. She felt different—as if fire ran through her veins and threatened to turn her to ash. The very next day, Maeve was crowned as Regna, the title officially granted to the ruler of Aesir. The people accepted her with open arms, many of them tired of the constant riots that had pervaded the country since her mother had abandoned it.

However, the people of Aries wanted blood. Some sort of reparation for the decade of chaos that consumed their country. They demanded the death of her mother, and of everyone who had served in her government. It was either that, or there would be no peace.

For the few hours that she knew her, Maeve got to spend a little time with her mother. She would answer no questions about why she had fled, or about who her father was. She was talking to someone who was essentially a stranger, and yet there was a strange peace that hung in the air, as if she had known this person for her entire life.

The people wanted blood. Craved it. And she would grant their wish. The screams still echo in her dreams even now. White. Hot. Like a piece of metal left to melt in a furnace, covered in blood. So much of it. Too much. A mixture of her's and other's.

The experience humbled her in a sick, twisted way. Now she understood that life had little meaning. Not hers, and surely not the lives of others. And what little meaning it had could be ripped away so easily, as if it were nothing. Over the years she grew vulgar and violent, doing what she wanted, when she wanted, to who she wanted to. Though she was also fair. Wise. Intelligent. Knew that if she was going to stay on top, where no one could stop her from having her fun, she would have to create stability in Aesir. Give the people a reason to want her to stay in power.

She's older now. Has been in power for five years. Aries still recovers from the decade of havoc, but now there is a sense of order and peace.

Nowadays, an invite to Maeve's palace is far from an honor. Many rumors circulate about things that occur there, though it's not like Maeve works hard to keep it a secret. Blood stained tiles and goblets. Echos of screams and shrieks. The few that could confirm or deny such rumors refuse to speak on them at all.

They know better.


I. . . . .

II. . . . .

Q U I R K S & H A B I T S
III. . . . .


calligraphy / It was an odd skill that she practiced a lot when she was younger, getting the ink to curve in just the write way. Don't mind the drop or two of blood. intimidating / To those who know her power, and know what it is capable of doing to them, Maeve is someone to be feared and avoided. She knows how to use that to her advantage. x tracking / Maeve spends a lot of time hunting in the forests of Aesir, and she has gotten quite good at tracking both man and beast. x archery / It is also because of hunting that she has gained a lot of experience with a bow and arrow, making her a pretty good shot.

unhinged / It doesn't take much for someone to notice that Maeve isn't all there, and despite her intelligence, it does lead to her making some questionable decisions. x short tempered / Even saying something in the slightly wrong tone of voice is enough to set Maeve off sometimes, not to mention what would happen if she was ever denied something. x lonely / To the surprise of no one, there are few willing to stick around Maeve for long. The palace still feels so empty. x tactics / She's not one to think ahead, plan for every situation. It's more fun to be surprised.

she eats a lot whenever she's bored | will frequently take naps throughout the day | she holds her pillow whenever she sleeps | fiddles with a knife whenever she's thinking | collects numerous daggers and knives | drinks her own blood to mess with others | has the tendency to break things when she's mad | has several pet birds that fly around the palace | imports various exotic meats for her to try

Things feel partial. My love for things is partial.

So begins...

Maeve Van Alst's Story