Elegies are spirits woven from lost souls by the Edeia Rieve, who represents the Idea of Loss. They are fragments of those who have died, shaped by Rieve's magic into beings with purpose: to help both themselves and those who grieve for them work through loss—to understand, to feel, to grieve fully, and, when the time comes, to let go. They are not a reversal of death. They are not a second chance at life. They are a path through the grief that death leaves behind, for the dead and the living alike.
Elegies are the original, "base" species, and other subspecies have been created through collaborations with other Edeia.
As of right now, all Elegies can be considered semi-open species owned or co-owned by Auspice.
If you wish to design your own Elegy character or import an existing design, please consult Auspice with a description of your character idea, including name, pronouns, and how they were blighted. You can use this form:
Name:
Pronouns:
Elegy Species: (Elegy or which subspecies they are)
Source Species: (e.g. human, extradimensional being, etc.)
Origin: (how they died, the nature of their loss and why they have lingered)
TH Username: (only needed if this is your first blighted; for adding to the ML)
Once you have permission, your character's details will be added to the Elegy ML without a number. Once you have the design, TH profile, and basic character details, Auspice will give an ML number.
You can also commission Auspice for a design. As the Elegies can have the shape of any species, the price and method of acquisition will vary depending on the source species.
Elegies are spirits woven from lost souls by the Edeia Rieve, who represents the Idea of Loss. They are fragments of those who have died, shaped by Rieve's magic into beings with purpose: to help both themselves and those who grieve for them work through loss—to understand, to feel, to grieve fully, and, when the time comes, to let go. They are not a reversal of death. They are not a second chance at life. They are a path through the grief that death leaves behind, for the dead and the living alike.
Rieve named them in an ancient language she spoke at the time of their creation, which was understood in meaning by the Elegies she created and carried to the Elegies that came after.
An Elegy can only be formed from a lost soul—a soul that has not passed on to the ethereal plane, typically because the circumstances of their death were sudden or unnatural, leaving them tethered to the physical plane by unresolved emotion.
Direct genesis occurs when Rieve is present and chooses to weave a lost soul into an Elegy. She uses her ability Grief's Horizon to read the weight and character of the loss—the people it will touch, the emotional knots most likely to form, and the points where resolution might be possible or where things might calcify. If she judges that the soul and those who grieve for them would benefit from this path, she weaves the soul into an Elegy. This requires her direct magic and cannot be done from a distance. Directly woven Elegies are the most stable and cognitively whole, aware of their nature and their purpose from the moment of formation.
Conditional genesis can also occur through existing Elegies. An Elegy may encounter a lost soul and, recognizing the weight of grief still tethering it, choose to expend some of their own power to give it form. They may do this actively—pouring their energy deliberately into the soul—or passively, as Elegies naturally exude a faint aura of Rieve's magic that lost souls within proximity may gradually absorb, slowly accumulating enough to take form. These indirectly formed Elegies are weaker and less stable at first, and may enter a remnant stage before fully cognizing.
Other ideogenic species can become lost souls, and thus they can become Elegies. However, they must be Ideation souls, native or naturalized. Depending on what the magic that made them ideogenic does, it may or may not linger. In the case of blighted, only their appearance that would be reflected in their form as an Elegy; they would not retain any of their ideogenic abilities.
Elegies that form indirectly often begin in a remnant stage: a state of limited awareness in which they are caught in the loop of their own most powerful memories, replaying them without full understanding of their situation. They are visible during this stage, though only to those with supernatural perception, and others may interact with the replaying memories—witnessing them, even participating in them—which can gently draw the Elegy toward greater awareness.
As the Elegy is interacted with and its grief is touched upon, it gradually stabilizes into fuller presence and cognition. An established Elegy can greatly accelerate this process by communicating with a remnant one, offering context and companionship. Once stabilized, a remnant Elegy becomes indistinguishable in awareness from any other, though they may take longer to develop full control over their abilities.
Elegies are not permanent. As the grief that gave them form is processed and resolved—both their own and that of those who loved them—they shed more of Rieve's magic than they absorb, and gradually fade. This is not a loss but a completion: a soul finally ready to move on to wherever souls go.
Fading does not require all grief to be perfectly resolved. Some Elegies fade when they have helped their loved ones reach a genuine readiness to release, even if not every wound has fully healed. Others linger for months, years, or decades—a quiet presence as time does its work—and eventually find that they no longer feel the pull to remain. This too is a form of letting go. Rieve considers both paths equally valid.
If an Elegy develops new reasons to stay—new attachments, new purposes—they may choose to remain even after their initial grief has resolved, for as long as those reasons hold.
Elegies appear as translucent, pale-outlined figures, their forms suggesting the shape of who they were in life without being entirely solid. They are composed of Rieve's magic, which manifests as pale, cold flame—the same flame that appears on Rieve's own crest. When an Elegy is calm, this flame is subtle, present at the edges of their form like the soft light of a candle. When their emotions peak—grief, longing, rage, joy—their form flickers and produces licks of pale flame, sometimes intensely.
The appearance of their eyes can vary, and the same Elegy can shift between different eye appearances at will or depending on their emotional state. They can have full pale irises, irises the color of their soul, fully pale eyes, and other variants. Note that there are no qualities or personality traits attached to a soul's color; it is simply how its ethereal essence is expressed through visible light.
When not actively present or between periods of engagement with the living, an Elegy may condense into a small, quiet ball of pale flame. This is not strictly necessary for their existence, but allows them to set aside the effort of full presence and rest. In this state, they are not aware of their surroundings and can recover energy they may have expended.
Elegies have no fixed appearance beyond these qualities; their forms reflect who they were, and may vary considerably from one to another. They may choose how they appear within the range of their flame-translucent nature.
Elegies are completely intangible, unable to interact with any physical objects. However, they do feel cold, and anyone and anything they pass through will become slightly colder.
Elegies directly woven by Rieve can control their visibility at will from formation. Those who form indirectly begin invisible and can only manifest visibly for short periods before needing to rest. With time and stabilization, their control over visibility grows.
By default, Elegies are invisible to mundane perception and only faintly perceptible to those with supernatural senses. When they choose to become visible, they appear as described above.
Generally, Elegies' telekinetic abilities are extremely limited. By expending a fair bit of energy, they may be able to exert small forces to accomplish minor acts such as rolling over a pen, fluttering a curtain, knocking something over, or creating a gust of wind. The more force required and the more complex the action, the more energy it takes. An Elegy may be able to flutter a curtain several times before becoming too tired to continue, or write a very short message (1-2 words, using something like a pen, drawing in spilled ink, or writing on frosted glass for instance) before needing to rest for several days.
They may "interact" with objects as if they were holding them physically, but since they are intangible and can do it from a distance, it is better classified as telekinesis.
Elegies can weakly sense the surface emotions and thoughts of those nearby without consent—a passive awareness that may be relevant when they are not yet strong enough to communicate directly. Those who are fully willing to open themselves to an Elegy allow it to read their emotions and thoughts completely.
Elegies also possess a form of psychometry: by touching or lingering near a location or object, they can sense vague impressions of what occurred there and what emotions were present. This ability is impressionistic rather than precise, and complex or layered histories may be murky.
Rieve's magic guides each Elegy toward those most essential to their process: those who are grieving for them and those who may be relevant to the resolution of their loss. This guidance is not infallible, but it orients the Elegy toward the truth of their situation rather than allowing grief to misdirect them.
Elegies have no physical voice and communicate entirely through a form of telepathy. Unlike Edeia telepathy, which can be perceived as external sound, an Elegy's communication is experienced as an inner voice—thoughts, feelings, and impressions that may at first be difficult to distinguish from one's own.
In their weakest states, they can only transmit raw emotion, a sudden surfacing of grief or longing that the living person may not recognize as external. As they grow stronger, they can transmit images and impressions, and eventually a distinct inner voice that perceptive individuals may begin to recognize as separate from their own thoughts.
Elegies can communicate fully and easily with other spirits—beings whose existence is non-physical—including other Elegies. An Elegy who encounters a remnant Elegy can reach them directly and help guide them toward awareness.
Elegies passively drain warmth from their surroundings and from those nearby. This warmth is slowly converted into their own energy, helping them grow stronger and more stable or recover energy they've used. This draining is not enough to cause harm, but can be noticeable when their ghostly form "touches" someone or something. When they are agitated, they drain more warmth.
Under most circumstances, Elegies may only perform passenger possession—residing within a willing host and communicating through them, sharing senses and thoughts, but not controlling the body. This form of possession requires the host's willingness and is often a means of more direct communication when other methods fall short.
Under extreme emotional pressure, and often only when an Elegy genuinely believes it is the sole viable path toward resolution, total possession may become possible. This is not a chosen ability but an act of desperation, and it is exhausting—an Elegy who attempts it will require significant rest afterward and may temporarily lose control of their visibility. It is rare.
Elegies are solitary by nature, each one oriented around a specific loss and the people connected to it. They are drawn to those who grieve for them and to places and objects tied to their lives. Some attached to a particular person, location, or object become bound to that subject, remaining close to it throughout their existence. Others are more free-moving, wandering as their sense of resolution guides them.
They can feel the full range of emotion—grief, love, anger, joy, peace—though they cannot cause real harm to the living. Their anger is real; their capacity to harm is quite limited.
Most Elegies, once stabilized, carry a quiet purpose: to help those who loved them finish grieving, and to finish grieving themselves. How they pursue that varies enormously. Some are gentle presences, offering comfort and proximity. Some have unfinished business to resolve. Some simply need to be witnessed. All of them, in the end, are working toward the same threshold.
Elegy Subspecies
Dirges are a subspecies of Elegy, woven jointly by Rieve and Malice from lost souls whose deaths were unjust—where the grief left behind is tangled with resentment, and where that resentment has legitimate ground to stand on. Where Elegies are woven from loss alone, Dirges carry Malice's power alongside Rieve's: a darker flame, and teeth.
They are not created to be weapons. They are created because some losses cannot be resolved peacefully, and Rieve, after millennia of witnessing unjust deaths, accepted that a gentle ghost is sometimes not enough. Their resentment is real, and their capacity to act on it is real. Whether they ultimately find peace or carry their bitterness eternally is their own.
The name Dirge was Malice's suggestion—a play on Rieve's ancient name for Elegies, harmonizing with it in a different key.
Dirges require the combined power of both Rieve and Malice to weave directly, and cannot be created by either alone. Rieve uses Grief's Horizon to read the nature of the loss; Malice reads the malice present in the hearts involved. Together, they determine whether the loss is one that warrants a Dirge—whether the resentment is grounded in genuine injustice, and whether a path exists in which it might lead somewhere meaningful. Each Dirge is a shared decision.
Because direct weaving requires both Rieve and Malice to be present together, directly woven Dirges are relatively rare. Rieve may seek out Malice for particular cases she cannot resolve with an Elegy, but she does so selectively, favoring softer paths where they are viable.
Conditional genesis operates the same way as for Elegies: existing Dirges may weave new Dirges from lost souls, either actively or through the passive absorption of their aura. These indirect Dirges are less stable at first and may enter a remnant stage before fully cognizing.
During the period of Malice's containment within their Abstraction, only existing Dirges could create new Dirges, with no oversight from either of their creators. Some of the wilder and more volatile Dirges of the Age of Secrecy trace their origins to this period.
As with Elegies, indirect Dirges may begin in a remnant stage. Remnant Dirges differ from remnant Elegies in that they are more reactive to external presences—where a remnant Elegy is caught inward, replaying memories, a remnant Dirge may respond intensely to those who enter its awareness, with amplified and volatile emotional responses. Approaching a remnant Dirge without care can be destabilizing for both parties.
The same path toward stabilization applies: interaction, witnessing, communication from an established Dirge. The process may take longer, given the volatility involved.
Dirges can fade peacefully, as Elegies do. Their path is simply harder: their resentment must find resolution, whether through the injustice being addressed, acknowledged, or answered in some form, or through time gradually releasing the grip of what was done to them.
A Dirge who cannot or will not resolve their resentment—who holds it beyond the point where time and circumstance might have allowed release—may become functionally immortal. So long as that bitterness remains, they will not fade. This is considered one of the sadder fates available to a Dirge: not dangerous, exactly, but a wound that never closed, a grief that never finished.
Dirges share the base appearance of Elegies—translucent, flame-outlined, condensing to a ball of flame at rest—but carry Malice's influence in their appearance. Their flame is black rather than pale and their forms may exhibit demonic characteristics: horns, the suggestion of wings, greater shadow-mass beneath or around the fire. These characteristics vary between individuals, and their degree may reflect the weight of the resentment they carry—a Dirge largely at peace may appear almost like an Elegy with darker flame, while one carrying centuries of unresolved bitterness may appear with more distortions and demonic characteristics.
The appearance of their eyes can vary, and the same Dirge can shift between different eye appearances at will or depending on their emotional state. They can have full black irises, irises the color of their soul, fully black eyes, and other variants.
When they are very agitated, the form of some Dirges can become monstrous, losing any resemblance to their previous species. Their shape becomes unstable, a constantly-shifting mass of black flames that may separate and merge in twisting licks of darkness.
Dirges possess all abilities of Elegies, with the following additions and modifications.
Dirges directly woven by Rieve and Malice can control both their visibility and their tangibility at will from formation. Indirect Dirges begin with limited control over both, developing greater range as they stabilize.
Tangibility allows a Dirge to physically interact with the world—to touch, to move objects, to make themselves felt. It can be controlled deliberately, though strong emotion may cause involuntary fluctuations, making them tangible when they mean to be intangible or intangible when they mean to be tangible.
Dirges have notably stronger telekinetic abilities compared to Elegies. Weak Dirges can still accomplish minor feats without much effort, and stronger, more stable Dirges can freely manipulate physical objects, though it takes more energy as they exert more force (such as by moving many things or heavy things), and expending too much energy will force them into their resting state.
Dirges share the perceptive abilities of Elegies, with the modification that they can read the emotions and thoughts of others without consent and to greater depth. Uninvited deep reading causes headaches in the subject—a warning that may alert a perceptive person to the Dirge's presence.
Rieve and Malice's combined magic guides each Dirge toward the truth of their situation with particular focus on identifying fault—who bears genuine responsibility for the injustice of their loss. This guidance is impressionistic and not infallible, but it orients the Dirge toward accurate resentment rather than misdirected anger. When a Dirge acts against someone who is not truly at fault, something in their nature registers the wrongness of it—a discomfort that, in a sufficiently self-aware Dirge, may give them pause.
Dirges have the same communication abilities as Elegies, but the inner voice quality of a Dirge's communication is heavier—thoughts given unusual weight and persistence, a coldness that a perceptive person may recognize as not entirely their own. A Dirge in an unwilling host's thoughts may feel like darker instincts made louder.
Dirges can drain physical energies—warmth, light—from their surroundings and from those nearby. This is an ability used by choice, though Dirges who carry resentment rooted in having been made to feel invisible or erased may use it more instinctively, reaching for presence and attention in the only way available to them.
Very powerful Dirges—typically those who have existed for a long time and have been gradually accumulating strength—can drain vitality: the force that binds a soul to a living body. Vitality draining is possible only against specific targets of the Dirge's resentment, and only against those who are genuinely at fault for their loss. A Dirge cannot drain vitality from bystanders or misdirected targets.
Sustained vitality draining causes progressively worsening effects: inexplicable chronic illness, dizziness, bleeding, and in severe cases, death—the connection of soul to body simply snapping. However, this process is slow and gradual; a Dirge must shave away vitality little by little over time before they develop the strength to take enough to be truly dangerous. This is not an efficient method of harm, but it is effective at causing suffering.
Directly woven Dirges begin with a stronger baseline, but still require time to develop the capacity for vitality draining. The process cannot be rushed without consequence.
Dirges can perform full possession of the living, not only passenger possession. As with all their more severe abilities, this requires time and accumulated strength; newly formed Dirges, even direct ones, are not capable of it immediately.
Beyond direct action, Dirges have a range of subtler approaches: causing nightmares, whispering intrusive thoughts, amplifying paranoia, or working on those around their target to shift perception and turn others against them. These methods reflect the specific character of the Dirge's resentment, and which they favor tends to emerge naturally from who they were and what was done to them.
Dirges share the solitary, purposeful nature of Elegies, but with greater emotional intensity. Their emotions spike more sharply—stronger grief, stronger rage, stronger joy—though they are equally capable of calm. The volatility is always present as potential; it does not define them.
Their resentment, while real and sometimes dangerous, is constitutionally focused. Rieve and Malice's combined magic orients it toward those genuinely responsible for the injustice of their loss. A Dirge whose resentment begins to drift toward the world at large, toward anyone in reach, is likely a Dirge who has lost the thread of their own grief—a sign of deterioration. Their resentment may then proceed to unravel, leading to their fading.
What resolution looks like for a Dirge varies. For some, it is justice: the truth of what was done to them revealed, the responsible party made to face it. For some, it is acknowledgment—simply being seen and believed. For others, resolution comes gradually, quietly, as time and the living world shift around them and the weight of what happened becomes easier to carry. Some never find it. Those ones remain.
In the Age of Magic, after millennia of witnessing unjust loss, Rieve began to feel the weight of what she could not resolve. Some losses left her with a darkness she could not name—something that festered, quiet and persistent, alongside the grief she helped others carry.
It was Malice who recognized it. The two spoke at length about loss and malice, about their approaches to the world and the marks they had made on it. When Rieve described her Elegies, Malice suggested that they could offer their own power to give certain souls a different kind of path. Rieve did not answer immediately. She continued her work while Malice observed, patient and unhurried. After some days, she agreed, and the first Dirges were woven together.
For a time, Rieve and Malice traveled together, witnessing cases of loss and deciding together—Rieve reading the shape of the grief ahead, Malice reading the malice present in the hearts involved—whether a lost soul should be woven into an Elegy or a Dirge. When they parted ways, Rieve returned to making Elegies alone, seeking out Malice only for particular cases she felt warranted it.
After Malice's containment during the Age of Secrecy, only existing Dirges could create new Dirges. With neither creator present, the indirect Dirge lineage of that era developed without oversight, and some of its members were wilder and more volatile for it.
Following Malice's return in the Age of Reunion, Rieve eventually sought them out. She spoke about the centuries of cases where she could have used Malice's help, and about how those situations eventually resolved—not always cleanly, but in some way. She asked that they continue as they once had: that when she encountered a loss that warranted it, she might seek Malice out to weave a Dirge together. Malice agreed. They also agreed, more quietly, to simply remain in each other's lives.