open post;

[ourladytrees]

J U L I A / our lady of the trees

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filling the hole in my soul — for oneiromancer

[ourladytrees]

and i can't save the world if i'm not happy anymore (♫)

[ the endless. eternal beings of unimaginable power and capability. it's strange that she'd never come across them in any of her research before now, but why should she be surprised when much of the magical community doesn't even believe run-of-the-mill gods still exist? plus, it's not like she had any formal education in all this. maybe it's something you get with a brakebill's phd, the secret code to unlock ancient magical lore. hedge witches usually get left out in the cold when it comes to information, and she'd been cut off from them regardless. or hell, there might be entire shelves of information stored away by the order of the library of the neitherlands, hidden away from anyone they didn't think deserving of such knowledge.

(it's all a bunch of bullshit and she's really getting tired of it.)

she'd come across mention of the endless in a dusty old book obtained from who knows where how long ago. it was part of the collection marina-23 left behind so it's a safe bet to say it was probably acquired via less than legal means. there's only a single page of text, listing the various entities and a few bits of lore, though only one piece matters much to her — they existed before the gods. since her issue is god-adjacent, perhaps something that had been around since their creation might be able to shine a little light on the problem.

julia wicker. the hedge-trained magician turned goddess turned... what, exactly? therein lay the problem. she'd been given the spark of a god who wronged her and granted the chance to grow it into something more, which she'd done to the point of becoming an actual goddess herself. but then she'd given away her divine power, using up every drop of it to restore access to magic after the old gods had shut out humanity. now, she's — something else. indestructible, still innately divine, but completely unable to perform the magic of a magician.

it's been frustrating, to say the least. (agonizing is more like it, at times.) gods are self-serving assholes who would sooner rip her to shreds and grant her the death no others can than help her, and all she really knows is that prometheus had done this same thing and been killed by his enemies shortly after. she needs more than that, not just for her own safety and well-being but to satisfy her constant craving for knowledge and information.

so, desperate times. not being able to do magic herself, she can't summon anything, exactly. what she can do is pray and try to tap into whatever is left of her that's still part-goddess. but she can't do it at the penthouse, no way would she risk her friends' safety by trying to open a connection there. so she goes to her apartment across the city, which doesn't make it easier (that's where it happened before) but does keep them safe. if history repeats itself and she opens a door to a malevolent being who murders her like reynard had murdered her coven, then at least she'll be able to die knowing she didn't get anyone else killed this time. it's still a terrifying thought, summoning something this powerful, but what choice does she have?

a circle of chalk on the hardwood floor. sigils of protection that probably don't do a damn thing without magic to power them. a modified version of the prayer that had first connected her to our lady underground. (persephone, the bitch who started this whole mess and refused to answer her calls for help.) she prays, repeating the words so many times they feel like a mantra, trying to dig into whatever is in her soul that still makes her (technically) a goddess. hours pass, time running into itself in one long blur, until suddenly—

she wakes. she can smell the water and hear the rush of waves. she can see a great expanse of sky high above her and feel the sand beneath her hands, those fine black grains clinging to her clothes. and she recognizes... none of it.

fuck. ]

[oneiromancer]

（ humans do not pray to him, exactly.

when he was morpheus, son of nyx, of the oneiroi, there were prayers. votives, offered and rarely accepted — what use has he for such human things? he drifted among humans, aimless as driftwood culled from a shipwreck in the ocean embrace. he did not often tarry.

his time in the tender care of the burgess family has changed him — or rather, forced him to recognize that without change he will not survive. nothing can kill an endless — nothing yet, at least, but new weapons are built every day. it would be arrogant to think that none could touch him, after those long, lonely years.

but he is not expecting prayer.

she sleeps, and wakes in dreaming, and he is there. there is nothing to indicate his stewardship of such a place, but there is power in him, the sort that is effortless, the sort that is wrapped around him like a shroud of glittering diamonds. his shadow is captured starlight, and his eyes burn like distant galaxies as they take her in. ）

Julia.

（ he knows her name. knows her story. knows her. the nightmares she had as a little girl, the fondest dreams to which she has sought solace in as an adult. he knows persephone has trodden here, that most beauteous wife of hades.

lucienne has warned him about this one.

but dream extends a hand.

he is in his realm, in his element, in the seat of his power, and she is but a guest. ）

Rise.

[ourladytrees]

[ the man who isn't a man knows her name. is he the one she'd called to? whoever he is, he is beautiful and terrifying to behold, the sight of him comforting like an old friend but also vaguely intimidating. he is something other, something powerful in a way that is given and not earned. the way he holds himself reminds her of a god but he lacks the cruelty she's come to associate with most deities who deign to address humans. that's a good sign, at least. maybe she'll survive this encounter, after all.

taking his hand, julia lets go again as soon as she's standing, his touch both unnerving and intriguing for the power that is so evident in him. she stares at him in awed apprehension for a moment, lost in those dark eyes that should be scarier than they are, before she finally finds her voice again. ]

Thank you.

[ if he knows her name, what else does he know about her? that she'd dreamt of magic and fillory as a child and found her soul fulfilled when she'd learned they were both real? did he know the horrible person she'd become in her relentless pursuit of magical knowledge, the way it had become almost like an addiction that caused her to hurt the people she loved? did he know how hard she'd worked to be better only to have a god—

persephone's son, reynard the fox. a trickster and a monster who had assaulted and murdered countless women simply because he could. julia had spared his life at the request of persephone, and in thanks she'd given julia that seed of divine power. she'd hated it when she found out where it came from; she'd wanted nothing of that monster. but through acts of penance, she'd grown that spark into a brilliant flame. restoring the sentient forest that she'd destroyed when she'd been without her soul. healing others, answering prayers. saving the earth faeries from slavery...

she'd been determined to be different from the other gods. she was going to create new worlds and protect them, not delight in their torment and wipe them clean when she grew tired of them. but she'd never even had the chance to start before she sacrificed her power to bring back magic. the decision isn't one she regrets, the world needs magic, but she aches with the loss of what could have been.

does she want him to know any of that? it'd probably be better if he didn't, but she's not the one with power here. but just how much power does he have? ]

Are you... one of the Endless?