Archive of Our Own ^beta

The Nocturnal Nostalgist

(she/her or they/them; Dame or Agent)
Factions: Revolutionaries, Bohemians
Profession: Silverer
Quirks: Melancholy, Magnanimous, Hedonist

Appears in:
"Le mal rouge et or"
"Detectives, delirium, decadence"
"Darkness, my old friend"
"Is it in the room with us right now?"
"Where the black roses grow"

Her small curiosity shop is filled with incense smoke, dust and shadows. Visitors are cordially greeted with a cup of spiced tea or coffee, even if they come only to have a look.

By day, it is a seemingly usual place where one can pawn or buy antiquities, occult rarities, out-of-print old books, archaeological findings and family relics. By night, it deals in different kind of goods: dreams, secrets and memories.

In order to escape the Bazaar’s control, not a single Echo is involved in her trade; only bartering. The Masters were trying to fix this with suffocating taxes and bans, but stopped bothering her after some unpleasant incident with cards. That’s why this shop is so beloved by Bohemians, many of whom often have nothing to their name but their art. And, of course, by smugglers. After all, secret correspondence may easily pass for a set of postcards, and an Auditor’s memory of a censored book only rises in price when the last typescript gets burned. On top of that, tendencies of the market don’t mean much here: the owner can unexpectedly offer quite a lot for something that has no special value apart from an unusual history or sentimental connection.

The Nocturnal Nostalgist is known for eccentricity. She attends even the cheeriest social events in a funeral coat and mourning veil, expressing her never-ending grief (for her previous forbidden sapphic romance that was doomed on the Surface; for the Fallen Cities and other victims of the Chain; for everyone from her woeful visions and collected memories; etc., etc...). She wears keys instead of jewellery, keeps frost-moths as pets, and adores black roses of Hell. But the most notorious peculiarity is her penchant for improbable deranged prophecies, and there are rumours about a heretical gnostic cult under her patronage. No wonder that she resides in the Royal Beth. Although fellow traders say that the Manager takes a cut of all dreams and mysteries that come into her possession, as if he doesn’t deem her insane enough to stay there for free as a patient. In fact, she is an agent of the Calendar Council via May, and those insights of the past and future that haunt her are directly connected to linear-time-defying lawlessness of the Neath (and especially Irem) rather than delusions.

Also she is friends with the Honey-Addled Detective, and her selection of belongings and secrets often helps in his investigations. There are regular customers even from beyond the mirror, judging by raven feathers on her desk. As for non-work-related sides of her social life, sometimes she is seen at the meetings of the Order of Those Who Will Not Be Caught Red-Handed, but its members usually don’t tell much. The only doubtless guess is that she doesn’t go there for chess: her game of choice is the Marvellous.

When she claimed victory, she asked for something nobody expected: to grant the wishes of the rest of the players. It wasn’t just against the rules – it contradicted the nature of the game itself, and the Masters swore to do anything but this. So then the Nocturnal Nostalgist revealed her true heart’s desire: the Liberation of Night.

All their enticing promises were for naught. She longed not for power, but for freedom to choose whom to be and where to seek one’s limits. She wanted not to bask in adoration, but to break the Chain that dictated who was allowed to love whom. She craved not the eternal life of the body, but the abolishment of death of the soul.

Horrified and obviously unable to fulfil it, the Masters had to agree to return to the previous one. They funded an expedition to the Mountain of Light, and after the turn of the century she ventured there with her former rivals.

After the exodus of London, she moved to Eleutheria where her poisonous sermons and blasphemous prophecies about the fall of false gods were much more welcome. Now her curiosity shop is found in Achlys.

In Parabola, the Nocturnal Nostalgist is a knight of the king and queen of nightmares. She appears as a rider in a black cape and card epaulettes. Thorny roses grow right through her armour, and she casts a living shadow.

+ mourning veil
+ random facts
+ replacements of law

The Grosmeister

(he/him; Reverend)
Factions: Great Game, Church
Profession: Midnighter
Quirks: Subtle, Ruthless, Austere

Appears in:
"Apophasis"
"Detectives, delirium, decadence"
"Where the black roses grow"

A courteous gentleman with greying temples and quiet voice. Usually he wears a simple cassock or a modest but impeccable suit, and prefers not to take off gloves and round dark glasses even when indoors.

Seems to be kind and humble. He loves animals and children for their innocence and sincerity, and gladly accepts invitations to orphanages. However, beneath he is a dreaded ruthless schemer who often relies on assassinations and conspiracies.

An enthusiast of chess and ciphers, he is a consummate priest of the Great Game. As a Midnighter, he is willing to hear the most chilling confessions, always ready to offer the mercy of oblivion in irrigo. He doesn’t memorize names, believing them to be redeemed, but keeps all the moves in his mind, prepared to pull the strings whenever the need arises.

Gave up his own memories in order to eliminate his weaknesses and to protect any relatives or friends he might have had. Regrets it a bit because of loneliness and a hidden desire to be able to trust at least someone. That’s what tempts him to view the Nostalgist as his new found family.

He first met the Nocturnal Nostalgist in the Order of Those Who Will Not Be Caught Red-Handed. Later he was sent to spy on meetings of her own Liberationist cult. That night they welcomed a zee-captain who got marked by the Halved, and the divine eye pierced the Grosmeister with its all-seeing gaze, immediately recognizing an intruder. But the Nostalgist, remembering him from the Order, offered him to work for them instead. He agreed; having mastered all the moves and matches of the Game, now he was left with no other ambition than to outplay the White King himself.

The Grosmeister doesn’t share all her views, thinking that the world, like a chessboard, should be both black and white. He would prefer to see the fall of the celestial tyranny not in the extinguishment of light but in its balance with darkness. Yet he admits that he may be simply too addicted to being involved in eternal conflict.

His logic and restraint perfectly complement her intuition and passion, helping her to avoid risky decisions. However, it is he whose philosophy of a universal Game inspires her, and this is an infinitely dangerous idea for someone who’s used to challenge and outplay fate itself, weaving chaos and treachery of cards into the strategic order of chess.

In Parabola, he is a living shadow cast by the Nocturnal Nostalgist, able to detach himself to be sent on missions that require his talents in espionage. Deep inside, the Grosmeister is terribly tired of always striving to be in control of everything as a chessmaster, so becoming her obedient shadow is a sweet respite.

The Possessed Pirate

(he/him or they/them; Captain)
Factions: Docks, Criminals
Quirks: Daring, Forceful, Steadfast

Appears in:
"Le mal rouge et or"
"Detectives, delirium, decadence"

Wasn’t an actual pirate at first; he was falsely accused of maritime crimes just to cover up the real reasons for persecuting him. Ironically, he had to resort to illegal life in order to survive after that, but he still holds onto honour as much as possible.

This zee-captain carries the mark of the Halved in place of his own missing eye and sometimes allows the dark god to take over his body for communication with the Neath.

Besides the eye, he lost an arm and a leg during his past adventures, relying now on mechanical prosthetics. However, it’s the closest to the Halved’s self-perception who usually struggled to adapt to human form before.

In the future he will sacrifice his remaining organ of sight for the spider-senate in the White Well, and will move his eyepatch to the opposite side, revealing the mark of the Halved and relying solely on its alien vision. It's hard to count on anyone so much, especially a scheming chaotic Judgement, but he is not the only one of them who needs to learn to trust again.

+ as a sky-captain in the Firmament

...and as a whole

From the FL TTRPG stream: "we really want to play into this theme of obsession as one of the core concepts for who these characters are and what the common thing between them is, even though they can be wildly different in so many other respects" (38:00) suits them particularly well.

The soul of the trio – mystical, eccentric, sensitive – the Nocturnal Nostalgist is a metaphorical knight on a truly epic quest. Slay the tyrant (the Sapphir'd King), bring the grail (immortality and due rights) to humanity, protect and rescue those who need it, and, of course, win an approving glance from the unattainable beloved (May). When the latter's heart already belongs to another and the enemy is incomparably stronger, it doesn't yet mean that the quest is insane and doomed... or maybe it does, but there is only one way to find out, and these two other weirdos agree.

The mind of the trio – logical, cautious, quiet – the Großmeister's ambition to outplay the White is similarly foolhardy and near-impossible. It is not meant to appease his pride (he is a very modest man who knows from his experience in the Great Game that glory is a fleeting illusion, attention is dangerous, praise is rarely sincere, and hubris for its own sake is ruinous); it is not some naive hope that he will prove mortals' worth and convince the gods to adandon their vile concept of "greater" and "lesser" beings; but what is it then? It's something more deep and existential. He expects to find the answer to these "why" and "what" in the process – and thus discover himself anew. His past is lost to irrigo, but there may be something that always remains, one's true self, one's eternal soul in an actual sense rather than devils' and Judgements' false notion, and a personal proof of that will be immensely important to him. The triumph of intellect, help for the Cause, poetic justice of besting someone in their own cruel game, anything else – all of it is only pleasant seasoning, not the main course.

The hot-blooded heart of the trio – action-oriented, brave, rowdy – the Possessed Pirate seeks the way to Eleutheria (which is – in pre-Skies time – more of an unreachable myth than a real destination; and even later, when sky-travel becomes possible, Albion and domains of light will most likely still deny its existence to prevent their servants from fleeing to the land of the free and the forbidden). He is a traveller and explorer, tempted by the North and East, but Eleutheria is different because he has seen it. He has been there, for a few minutes, and what he brought back is now a part of him (both literally and figuratively). The knightly Nocturnal Nostalgist would call it his Avalon, the priestly Großmeister would call it his Promised Land; no matter the differences, he feels that these people understand him.