Ink in the veins
In the Bellyem's world, tattoos were more than mere adornments, they were sacred marks of power and purpose. Wrought with ink and pain, each symbol etched into the flesh told a story of lineage, faith, and defiance. To bear the ink was to carry the weight of one's destiny, bound forever to the divine and the damned alike.
In the age of Fleeing Times, the sacred art of tattooing took root among the clans descended from Adam, our venerated father . It was Adam who imparted to his Eva and their offspring the divine command: carve into your flesh the teachings of God. These scarifications, etched in obedience, would carry the weight of divine will.
Yet as the centuries unfolded, the crude carvings evolved into intricate tattoos, a refinement reserved for the exalted royal bloodlines. Each royal house guarded a secret lore, their marks transforming into sigils of authority. The words of God were joined by heraldic designs unique to each family as a testament to their ordained legitimacy.
This rite of ink fell to the women of these noble lines, who bore the title of Eva, a word that spoke to their roles as wives, mothers, and keepers of the sacred symbols. It is said that with tender yet unyielding hands, the Evas inscribed the skin of their children, ensuring that the legacy of flesh-bound symbols endured.
In the far-flung reaches of Klaes, however, the ink has all but faded. There, the tradition wanes, and scarification, the primal act of Adam's decree, still lingers, a faint echo of a once-universal devotion. Thus do the marks of the Evas endure, a living testament to a covenant with divinity, carried upon the flesh of the chosen few.
It is whispered that the blood of royalty flows unlike that of the common folk, carrying within it a spark of divine ordination. The tattoos bestowed by the Evas are said to awaken and magnify this sacred difference. These marks are not mere adornments but are instead the cornerstone of a ritualistic journey, a passage through the stages of life.
The first marking occurs on the seventh day after birth, a sacred interval of time. It is the mother herself, an Eva, who inscribes the infant, or in her absence, another Eva bound by close kinship. This initial tattoo is known as The Egg of Ascendant Metamorphosis, a symbol of unfulfilled potential and divine promise. Its forms are many: a perfect sphere, a coiled shell, an ancient rune, a spiral that twists endlessly inward... On this day, the child is also named, their first earthly identity tied irrevocably to the sacred ink. If the child survives to their seventh month, a second rite is performed. Upon the tender flesh of their back, the Eva inscribes a single Verse of God, chosen from the family inheritance. This verse, it is said, shapes the very essence of their being, influencing their temperament and guiding them toward the fulfillment of their life’s purpose, the return of the Egg. At the age of seven, the child receives a new mark: the crest of their royal lineage. Alongside this sigil, additional verses are etched upon their back, each a piece of divine wisdom bestowed to prepare them for the burdens of their heritage.
Finally, at seventeen, the ink is completed in a ceremony steeped in solemnity and grandeur. This last tattoo marks the passage from the innocence of youth to the weighty responsibilities of adulthood. With its final stroke, the tapestry of their flesh is finished, a living testament to their journey, their lineage, and their divine blood. Such is the sacred duty of the Evas, to weave the destinies of kings and queens upon the canvas of skin, preserving the covenant of blood and ink for generations untold.
The techniques of inscribing the flesh vary greatly across the lands, each region bound by tradition and the materials granted by the earth and sea.
In the shores of Sympruosia, sharpened shells are steeped in a darkened elixir of soot and oil, their jagged edges pressed into the skin to etch divine patterns. The act is said to mimic the tides, as if the ink itself were carried by waves of pain and devotion. Within the kingdoms of Erzlygion and Oeviom, a more precise approach prevails. A single needle, tempered by fire and honed to a fine point, is guided with steady hands to create intricate lines, each one a thread in the tapestry of lineage and faith.
To the east, in the rugged lands of Vielasyn, where three borders touch the sprawling domains of Klaes, the art of incision reigns supreme. Here, the flesh is deliberately cut with blades of bone or iron, the wounds filled with pigments that seep deep into the skin. It is a harsh and unyielding method, reflecting the unforgiving nature of their land. In the highlands of Mosyne, the sound of ritual echoes through the valleys. Needles carved from bone are dipped into pigment and hammered into the skin with rhythmic strikes of a ceremonial mallet. The process is as much a rite of endurance as it is a creation of beauty, the pain itself seen as an offering to the gods.
The pigments used in these sacred rites are gifts of the earth and its cycles: soot and charcoal for their deep black, red ochre and clay for their fiery tones, ash and powdered bone for pale spectral marks. From the living world, plants such as indigo and madder yield hues of blue and crimson, their colors said to hold the memories of the seasons and the blood of the earth itself. Thus, the art of tattooing becomes more than mere tradition. It is a language of devotion, a bond between flesh and spirit, forged differently in every corner of the world yet united by purpose: to etch the eternal into the ephemeral.
Origines
Symbolism
Craft of the Eternal Mark
Funeral ritual
Upon the death of a royal, the sacred duty of the Eva is not yet complete. A final mark is etched upon the flesh, drawn upon the closed lids of the deceased. This tattoo, known as The Veil of Passage, is said to guide the spirit through the dark expanse that separates the mortal realm from the Divine.
It is whispered that these markings serve as a beacon, a plea for the mercy of the Divinity, allowing the soul to linger at the threshold of eternity. There it waits, gazing through the ethereal mists, until the promised awakening of The Third Eye, when the Eternal Kingdom of God shall manifest.
To be buried without this final blessing is to risk wandering blind in the endless abyss, severed from the sacred cycle. Thus, the Veil is not merely an adornment, but a bridge between realms, the last act of devotion for those bound by the blood of royalty.
A sign of rebellion
During the era of Ashen Skies, the art of tattooing was seized as a defiant act of rebellion by both humans and Chayatiem. Together, they bore the ink as a mark of unity and defiance against the oppressive Empire of Chrystemis.
Yet within the Empire’s iron rule, the indelible tattoo was deemed a privilege of the exalted. For those of low birth, to wear a permanent mark upon their skin was to invite ruin. The punishment was as cruel as it was unyielding. The limb adorned with forbidden ink would be severed, a stark reminder of their transgression. To the Empire, such markings on the lowborn symbolized pride, the most damning of sins, and a crime worthy of mutilation.
However, on the scarred and windswept lands of Tyrinthius, this custom found new purpose. There, warriors bore tattoos to adorn their wounds, transforming scars of war into testaments of resilience. Former slaves branded with the hot iron of oppression reclaimed their flesh with intricate designs, blending ink with burns to tell stories of survival and defiance. For both humans and Chayatiem, the tattoo became a binding emblem, a shared language of rebellion and brotherhood against the tyranny of Chrystemis. The ink of Tyrinthius told tales not of submission, but of triumph, a silent vow that no empire could suppress the fire etched into their flesh.
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