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memento-morianon · 13 days ago

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Hey Memento Mori I would like to ask you what was goblin revolution ,did theres been any wars in your world or only disirganised warfare,if been wars then interspecies wars and wars within species? What every possible hair fur eye color for each sapient ,any genocides between species? I yes what Sorryfor so many questions

the goblin revolution took place a little over 1500 years before Memento Mori begins. Goblins are amphibians and they have one of the shortest lifespans of all the people species in this world, though it has become longer in more recent centuries. They were once looked down on, shunned, and even oppressed by some groups who did not consider them to be People.

(image description: two goblins, wearing simple skirts with attached bags and pouches. one is crouching, the other is standing, and they both have long facial whiskers, big eyes with oblong pupils, and speckled skin. the crouching one has bat-like ears, while the standing one has frilled gills and a tail with a spinal fin. end description.)

There was no universal definition of People, at that time, and the world was rather full of interspecies conflict as a result, with longer-lived folks like elves and dwarves thinking of themselves as People and everyone else as Lesser. There was even conflict between people of the same species family.

elves commonly thinking of their cousins, the stroi and drow, as being a lower form of people.

orcs and gnomes having a mutual animosity with each of them considering the other to be somehow less civilized.

and of course there was the centaur and urukai conflict, which is commonly misremembered as being a conflict between centaurs and modern orcs, with gnomes denying any part in the matter. in fact, gnomes became separate from the other urukai people during the early stages of this conflict, and orcs are just what remains of the urukai, now bearing a new name. the urukai were the natural predator of centaurs, but as the two groups became equally sapient, the centaurs pushed back hard and escalated to war. the gnomes are the urukai who left the conflict very early, taking refuge in the mountains and becoming quite small as a result of losing their major food sources.

the orcs did surrender, in the end, and moved on to rebuild their lives while the centaurs claimed claimed their lands and became isolated from the rest of the world.

(image description: two digital paintings. the first is a vibrantly colored image of a prehistoric centaur being pounced on and injured by three pig-like creatures, the ancestral species that became the orcs and gnomes. the second image is in muted gray tones with golden highlights, showing an orc kneeling to plead with a centaur who is holding a spear to his chest. end description.)

the goblin revolution happened a long time after all that, and it was far more global. the centaurs and urukai pushed each other from their origin lands out to other places, and then the orcs and gnomes split up and took other new territory, some very very distant from any centaurs. the goblins were already a well established global species when they began their revolution, demanding to be treated as equals by the longer-lived mammalians who oppressed them.

For many years, goblins around the world would try to fight back, but as they lived in so many different places with no form of international communication, and often had their own smaller conflicts with other goblin populations in the struggle for resources under oppression, their attempts to stand up for themselves usually failed.

and then something changed. it was classified in the historical records as a well-timed coincidence. Every goblin population in the world began to strike back at the same time, like an organized army. they sacrificed their own health, consuming large amounts of poisonous plants to make their natural skin mucus toxic enough to harm their enemies. enraged at the way they were looked down on just for having shorter lifespans, they began to rally around the cry "we'll outlive you with our teeth in your throats" and variations on that idea. it was a brutal worldwide war.

orcs in many countries chose to stand with the goblins, remembering their own ancestral conflict with the centaurs and viewing the goblin revolution as a way to redeem themselves, to separate their legacy from that of their ancestors.

with the goblins gaining more allies and their oppressors becoming weaker, the revolution eventually came to an end. the term "people" was given a new, more generalized definition, and international organizations were formed to prevent such a horrible conflict from happening again.

it did, however, take a good few centuries before things really settled. the most common response to the goblin revolution was actually for people to become more separated and isolated from each other, deciding the best way to avoid conflict was to just stop interacting. this obviously had its own problems. stagnation, for one. invention, culture, tolerance, all hit walls in most of the world as interspecies cooperation dropped and trade became scarce. it took a while for the world to recover and move forward.

even in the time of the main Memento Mori plot, the world is not in perfect peace. there are still people who look over history and decide that their species is superior, or who start conflicts with their own people, or whatever. territory and resources will always be a source of conflict. wealth and power will always give rise to tyrants and oppressors. but there will also always be those who fight back, desperate for a better world.

the goblins have not forgotten their revolution, generations after it has ended. they still tell their children the stories that were passed down through the centuries. though the records state that it was all a coincidence, that the goblins of the world happened to finally rise at the same time for once, they know better. they say it was a goblin as pale as moonlight, an immortalized martyr who protected a small uprising at the cost of their own life. they reached out in the night, whispering in the dreams of goblins around the world, and blessed them all with the burning spirit of revolution.

(image description: a digital painting in shades of blue, green, and purple, with some pink, red, and yellow. the bottom half of the image is a dark mass of vaguely outlined goblins with glowing yellow eyes, staring towards the viewer. the top half of the image shows a massive goblin with three moons over their head. they have pale white skin, almost opalescent in color, and pinkish gill frills on the side of their head. their arms are spread wide over the mass of goblins below. streaks of blood color their hands, drip from their mouth and eyes, and pour from an open wound in their chest. there is a bright kaleidoscopic aura emanating from them. end description.)

as for the variety of ethnicities in each people species, i think i will try to tackle that in a separate post, because it's quite a lot lol, i want to draw some visuals for it.

#mm world details #writeblr #fantasy worldbuilding #mm illustrations #goblins #orcs #centaurs

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memento-morianon · 14 days ago

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CALLING ACTIVE WRITEBLRS

Hi hello. My dashboard as been feeling sparse the last few weeks and I want to get some more writers on my feed. I made one of these a few months back that introduced me to so many new people so I'm back again to find new writers

My main genres/tropes/yada yada are:

Fantasy - Dark, High, Low stakes whatever just give me that mythical feeling and I'm yours bbg

Sci-fi - I've been trying to get more into it

Literally any romances - Slow burn, meet cute, meet ugly, they fell first they fell harder, star crossed lovers, whatever. give me it all

I'm a dragon fiend

Please interact with this so I can check out all your beautiful blogs and devour your writing. I offer you a tutter mouse for your time thank you

#my rough draft is about as rough as it gets lol #but i sure am posting

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memento-morianon · 16 days ago

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rune lights

(image description: labeled sketch diagrams of two different styles of magic light. both primarily function by having a written symbol on top that's divided between moving parts. the light labeled as dwarven made is a hollow crystal orb with moving concentric circles on top and a switch mechanism on the inside to turn those circles. there is also an extension piece attached to the switch, making it stick out beyond the hold at the base.

the other light is labeled as centaur made, and it is crafted from a rectangular block of wood. there is a sliding panel in the center, held in place with a peg in a slot, and the panel can be moved up and down to break or align the magic symbol. end description.)

rune lights with moving parts to turn them on or off have become commonplace in this world, even in the isolated forest homes of the centaurs! though they do not have such easy access to a broad variety of materials due to their isolation, centaurs have become master wood workers in their own right. these sliding panel lights are very smooth and fit into an adult centaur's hand with ease, often being made with a wrist strap for convenience.

wood is not very effective at channeling light when compared to the crystals that dwarves use, but they work well enough. even so, once the centaurs begin to open up more and even venture to trade resources with other people, they will probably start using the crystal lights alongside their wood lights.

another resource centaurs do not have access to is drow silk, which is an organic fiber that can channel light without magic, similar to modern fiber optic cables. this material has become a very common way to make even dwarven rune lights more efficient! drow light their caverns with whole webs of silk ropes extending from the nearest outside entrance.

#writeblr #mm world details #sketchbook

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memento-morianon · 17 days ago

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chapter 17

masterpost of excerpts over here

at last I've reached the archaeology portion of the story! in which Mori and K'arik join a team of various archaeology and archaeology-adjacent scientists that have been invited to the centaur territory up north to dig up some old orcish settlements in the area and collaborate with the centaur historians.

for extra context, just two days before he leaves Mori is finally convinced to let his sexual urges have a little release. as a result, he does feel better and more relaxed. But he will have to find a different solution for his feelings while he's away on this work trip, and basically it just boils down to taking the sexy thoughts and feelings and shoving them over to another alter (Jay, the only other one who actually cares about sex). anyway, that's the least important detail here, so it won't come up directly in the text too often.

we'll just jump directly to the day Mori and K'arik head out. they're taking a train northward, because trains do exist here! it's not as fast as modern human trains, but it does the job.

The cart wheels bumped over the damp road, making Morianon tense up. Evarin rubbed his arm reassuringly. A drizzle of rain had been falling all day, though the blue sky was beginning to break through the clouds. Morianon's parents, alongside Kaen and Raisha, were also gathered in the cart, helping with Morianon's baggage. The rest of his family was in another cart just behind them, all eager and proud to see him off on his journey.

[and this will work better if i show that more before this, and have some dialogue about it on the way to the train, but my brain is not currently working on that, so we will say it happened and skip it]

His own enthusiasm was cooled by the discomfort of sitting in the cart, and the prospect of sitting longer on the train north and then again in a cart to the centaur territory. He sat sideways towards the rear of the cart, legs awkwardly folded, tail stiffly vertical behind his back, and his wings halfway out of the cart entirely, just hanging through the open frame that held the rain cover. Sitla was tucked beneath the bench, wearing her vest and leash, entirely unbothered the cramped space and rocking motion.

By the time they reached the train station, Morianon had lost track of whatever conversation Evarin and the others were having. He didn't wait for the cart driver to open the back, hopping out and stretching immediately, breathing in the fresh air. The ramp beneath the cart was pulled out and set up so his father's wheelchair could be rolled down to the road, and the rest of the group followed him with Morianon's baggage.

"Feels like the day I left for university," Morianon laughed, as his family surrounded him on their short walk to the train station.

"And we're just as proud of you now as we were back then," his mother replied.

[since they've rarely shown up in this draft, here is a quick reminder note that Mori's family are mostly elves. the only exceptions are him, and then Jen and Raisha who are each part elf. Jen is a whole sylvanic mix, her birth parents were an elf and a drow/stroi mixed person. Raisha is a drow/elf cross. also Larel, the other gnomish trans woman I've mentioned before, was part of this family for a time, as she was raised a communal foster child. everyone's sister and no one's sister. she has been evarin's sister as well. there is only one member of Morianon's family who was not adopted, and that's his youngest brother Irolu, who is currently a university student and I'll try to add him into scenes where Mori is at the university for work reasons. Also! There are four kiddos. three belong to Talib, Kouto, and Melachi, one belongs to Jen and Rahn. Kione is the oldest kid, a teen. Alika is the youngest, she's blind. Choriv and Eliach are the same age, they're goblins. been a while since any of them have shown up]

While most of his family walked quietly, the children ran forward giggling just to see the train. Choriv and Eliach held Alika's hands while Kione kept his eyes on all of them.

"It's so big!" Choriv cried, "Alika, it's as big as a, um-"

"Big as a house!" Eliach continued, "if you put a house sideways, and maybe if it was narrower."

"The front part is squiggly," Choriv picked back up, "all the pipes are full of water! I read a book about it! They use heat runes to make steam, and then the steam pushes the wheels!"

"Hw does steam push wheels?" Alika asked, tilting her head and laughing. Her thin hollow cane was nearly useless with her cousins holding her hands, but she followed them confidently, trusting them to guide her past any obstacles. They wandered down the station platform, still rambling and describing the train enthusiastically.

"I've got them," Kione said, waving to the rest of his family before he jogged after the young ones. Morianon recognized a few fellow archaeologists and others on the platform who had been invited on the dig, including his drow friend Xulic (shu-lik) who studied rocks and fossils (and who will be more relevant in draft 2 scenes at the unversity).

"There's K'arik!" Evarin waved at the small group of orcs a little ways down the platform, hurrying forward. Morianon followed, but he kept a slower pace. His hand clenched on Sitla's leash and he averted his eyes to keep from catching K'arik's gaze directly. That worried gaze that had seen his whole soul, clear as moonlight. Sitla huffed and prodded his hand with her cold nose; K'arik was signing at him.

"Are you nervous?" he asked, "I could hardly sleep." He feigned a yawn to empasize his words.

"I haven't slept well either," Morianon admitted. The train's whistle blew, a signal to start loading baggage and passengers. "It's time for us to get going," Morianon signed, adding a gesture to mimic the train whistle. People were already moving, hauling their bags and boxes to the baggage car. Morianon's family was taking his things there, waving as they passed by. K'arik handed his own bags to his brother and turned to give his parents short hugs.

In the hurry to get on the train, Morianon managed to find his family again and embraced his own parents briefly.

"I'll be back in a couple of weeks, and I'll tell you all about it!" he said, excitement fluttering in his heart. The children were bouncing on their feet, giggling and imitating the train whistle. Evarin took Morianon's hand and kissed his cheek.

"Safe travels," she told him, and then whispered; "don't be too tired when you get back, pretty bird. I've got plans for you." She grinned cheekily and stepped back, leaving him to blush and fluff his feathers as he waved her off and hurried to take his place on the train. K'arik waited for him, ducking through the door behind him. Xulic saw him and gestured to a seat beside vir, near the larger seats made specially for orcs. Morianon and K'arik made their way over, nodding to the others around them and settling in for the long ride north. Morianon crouched on his seat, which was at the end of the row. It was one of the only places he could sit where his wings and tail would not be in anyone's way or get stuck in an uncomfortable position behind him. Sitla curled up under the seats without a fuss.

"Mori, it's so good to be on a dig with you again," Xulic said, ears and whiskers fully upright with excitement. "It's been a while! A few years, at least, right?"

"Not since that excavation around the old eastern dam," Morianon agreed. He stiffened and braced himself as the train started moving, jolting forward and gradually speeding up until it hit a steady pace. Unlike the carts they'd taken to the station, the train moved in a much smoother way that didn't stir his stomach. "What do you think we'll find in the centaur territory? I'm excited to see what they've already done themselves, honestly. If things go well, maybe they'll loan their studies and a few artifacts to the university, huh? That would be amazing."

"Personally, I'm looking forward to finding a good pile of fossil wood," Xulic replied, "It's a big forest! There's bound to be a few old petrified logs under the surface, right?" Vir eyes were bright and wide beneath the thin obsidian lens glasses. "And our volcanic mountain range goes right past it, so maybe we'll find some evidence of historic volcanic eruptions."

"Could be." Morianon nodded along as his friend went into a whole lengthy ramble, talking about the systems of lava tube caves throughout the region and geologic layers and other related topics. Around them, their peers were having similar conversations, all of it swiftly turning into a blur of words. Morianon glanced towards K'arik, and found that he had closed his eyes and seemed to be meditating, or perhaps just napping.

It would be hours before they reached their destination; a small city closer to the centaur territory, where they'd meet the rest of their team and take wagons the rest of the way. Morianon drifted in his mind, pushing aside any distracting thoughts and feelings. The surging hormones of his courting season, the fearful visions that plagued his dreams, the worry that stabbed at his heart every time he glanced at K'arik. He mulled over the worry for a moment longer. It was still tender, but he couldn't let anything get in the way of his work, especially not such important and historical work as attending a dig in the centaur territory. He sighed and resolved to apologize to K'arik after they'd set up camp.

Light drizzles became heavy rain, hitting the train windows and turning the already blurry view of trees and fields into an abstract conglomoration of squiggles. Morianon shivered and stood up, disguising his fear as a need to stretch. Halfway to their destination, many of his fellow passengers were dozing off, and the murmur of conversation had grown soft and sparse. None of them reacted to the pounding rain, even as it echoed loud agaisnt the roof, amplified by the speed of the train. Morianon shook his head and breathed slow, calming his racing heart and pushing aside the old memories of flooding rains and wind that tore through whole buildings. A shadow fell over him: K'arik, gently approaching and crouching to meet his eye level.

"Do you need anything?" he asked. Morianon shrugged, fluffing his feathers and folding his wings close to his body.

"I'll be alright," he signed back. K'arik nodded, but stayed with him, sitting on the floor. Gradually, the rain died down again, though it came and went a few more times as the train passed below heavy clouds and breaks of blue sky. Morianon dug through his small bag and pulled out a sack of dried fish to eat while some of his peers made their way to the dining car. Obeli Moruga's fish were far better than any train food he could find. They crunched between his sharp teeth, scattering their spiced and herbal flavors over his tongue and down his throat. He glanced at K'arik briefly while he swallowed a handful of the fish, wondering for a moment if his friend's snout could pick up the distinct smell of the herbs beneath the spices. But K'arik didn't seem to notice, distracted by another archaeologist who had come over to converse with him.

The herbs' calming effect was swift to set in, putting its fog over the clawing shadows and settling Morianon's mind. He would have to ration them somewhat, unable to use them in a tea with so many people around who would recognize the smell. If all went well, he wouldn't need them too often anyway.

Crouching in his seat again, Morianon endured the awful shuddering halt of the train coming into the station. He followed his companions out of the sliding doors and down to the baggage car, waiting his turn to retrieve his things. Sitla watched the crowds with her ears perked, silently observing every motion. Morianon flinched slightly when K'arik tapped him on the shoulder and offered to help carry his baggage. As he had one hand occupied with Sitla's leash, Morianon accepted the offer gratefully.

One member of the dig team, a tall elf, whistled sharply and waved the group out of the station once they'd unloaded everything. They hurried to the designated meeting place, buzzing with renewed excitement. Though the sky was still gray, no rain fell on them as they made their way through the city and found the wagons they were meant to take to the centaur territory.

Unlike [main setting town], this city was primarily occupied by gnomes who had left behind their nomadic traditions. Instead of a forest of tall elvish tree homes, they had built structures of wood and brick, as well as burrows in the hills that probably led to a whole underground neighborhood.

Morianon spotted the telltale signs of a much older settlement at the bases of each building; perhaps the gnomes had settled here because it already had useful structures and they built their homes on top of the ruins. With a little digging, he was sure they'd find the old metal-framed concrete commonly left behind by a long extinct people. Most evidence suggested they had been a relative of the dwarves, and their remaining architecture certainly supported the theory.

Pulling himself from his wandering thoughts, Morianon helped load his own baggage and a few other things into the wagons, looking around at the rest of the group that had joined. Archaeologists, geologists, cartographers, and more. It was not the largest team he had ever been part of, to be sure, but it was an impressive gathering of skilled scientists all eager to break ground on such a unique and significant venture. Morianon felt small among them, and not only for his size compared to the majority elf and dwarf population of the team. He still felt like a new graduate, barely professional, certainly not recognizable or famous like a few of the more prestigious members of the team.

"Mori! There you are," the familiar voice of Parva, his grandfather's sister and his own mentor, caught his ears and comforted him immediately. He met her with a bright smile.

"Here I am," he laughed, and entered her warm embrace. She was part drow and part stroi, whiskered and red-haired with that odd colorless tinge to her skin that all half-drow had, like her body just couldn't produce all the pigmentation it was supposed to have. But while Morianon's sister Raisha chose to add cave snails to her diet to gain that drowish purple tone, Parva avoided them and remained rather pallid.

"And K'arik with you, good, good," Parva stepped back and switched to sign language. "We have three professional interpreters just for you," she explained, "they'll take turns. The centaurs are providing their own translators as well, so conversation may be slow. Their translators will converse between centaurin and common speech, and then your interpreters will handle speech to sign and back again."

"I'll be patient," K'arik signed back and quirked his snout in amusement.

"Most of us here at least know trade sign," Parva continued, "so if you need anything and your interpreters aren't availble for some reason, just ask."

"Thank you." He nodded gratefully and Parva returned the gesture. She patted Morianon on the shoulder and then leaned down to scratch Sitla's head.

"Still the same old dog, are you? Strange little beast," she chuckled. "Alright, we're heading out soon, so pick a seat and stay there." She left them behind swiftly to round up the rest of the team, herding everyone to the wagons. Morianon and K'arik found the only wagon that was built with an orcish seat and climbed into it. Morianon chose to perch on K'arik's lap rather than squeezing into place on one of the more crowded wagons. Teams of gnomish pack sheep pulled them forward, hauling the heavy loads with little effort.

It would likely be dark by the time they set up their camps, Mori observed, watching the sun's position through the cloud cover and thinking ahead to the shade of the centaurs' forest. There were, of course, rune lights in the wagons along with special stands and drow silk covers to amplify their glow over a small area. Even so, the idea of setting up tents at night made his feathers bristle in annoyance. He'd rather nest in a tree all night, if he had to. The jostling of the wagon as it left the roads and entered the unclaimed land surrounding the forest only made him more annoyed as his stomach complained and he grew somewhat lightheaded. K'arik rested a large hand on his back to steady him.

Open fields quickly gave way to trees, more and more of them every moment. Morianon perked up in spite of his queasy stomach, invigorated by the hushed realization that they were so close to their destination. The other wagons also grew quiet, common travel chatter instantly dropping to reverent whispers. The wagons came to a halt where a new road began.

Over the road, a few trees had been sculpted into an archway of twisted branches, decorated with woven tapestries that carried a script Morianon didn't recognize. He could feel K'arik grow tense, and looked up to find his friend's throat bob with a nervous swallow. Parva and the other heads of the team exited their wagons and stood in front of the massive arch, and Parva turned to wave K'arik over so he could join them as they waited. Morianon hurriedly moved to the front of the wagon, perching behind the driver as he watched his friend take his place, quickly accompanied by a few elves who stood by to interpret for him. Even he looked small in front of the arch, despite his dignified posture and the few symbols of his status that he had chosen to wear.

The arch was not the only evidence that they had reached the centaur territory. From either side of it, a wall of carefully maintained foliage, woven with thorny vines, stretched out into the forest as far as the eye could see. It was not dissimilar from the old blackberry hedge around K'arik's village, but the one the centaurs had built was far larger and looked more deliberate and defensive.

From the shadows around the arch, a group of centaurs stepped forward. Amahr was with them, Morianon recognized the diplomat from He-esh's funeral. [i am still unsure of my centaur pronouns, bear with me lol] Alongside Amahr, there were two other old centaurs wearing elaborate cloaks and decorative head pieces, a younger looking centaur between them, and several centaurs in woven armor holding long spears. Amahr took the lead, bowing slightly as i-hir addressed the gathered guests.

"Welcome, Parva, [other people], and your companions." Amahr glanced over the wagons behind them, pausing to look at Morianon for a moment. "You have a fine crew, I see. You will have to forgive our people their curiosity and apprehension. This is the first time we have ever allowed so many outsiders to enter our forest."

"We're honored that you invited us," Parva replied. Morianon watched the younger centaur quietly translate for the elders that accompanied Amahr, and the sign language interpreters performed their duty just the same. Amahr nodded and cast i-hir gaze to K'arik.

"K'arik, grandson of He'esh," i-hir began, speaking slowly, "you are only the second orc we have ever allowed to come near our home." The air seemed heavy with anxious tension, silence falling over every wagon. Morianon couldn't read the expressions of the centaurs behind Amahr, though he watched one of the guards frown and grip their spear tighter. "Though your grandfather approved of you, and I myself have born witness to your character, you will understand if our people are not all pleased to see you beneath our trees."

K'arik nodded.

"Your uncle," Amahr continued with a hint of venom, "did leave a stain on your family's reputation, though your mother's swift actions were reassuring." The elder centaurs laughed quietly as their translator conveyed the message, and Morianon could only guess that the story of Th'elir nearly murdering Ikar at the funeral had been passed around with great enthusiasm.

Amahr gestured at one of the guards, who stepped forward and pointed their spear at K'arik, level with his chest. There was enough distance between them that the spear posed no immediate threat, but Morianon's heart leapt into his throat and he clutched the side of the wagon until his nails dug into the wood. He could hear the murmur of gasping voices from the other wagons and he saw fear flash in Parva's eyes. Amahr's face became stoic and fierce.

"Our permission is not blind trust. While we allow you to walk beneath our trees, we will not hesitate to remove you at the first sign of disrespect. None here will protect you if you cause offense."

"I understand," K'arik replied, and he knelt on the ground, bowing his head before he continued. "I am grateful for this chance to follow in my grandfather's footsteps. But I am not my grandfather. I walk in a'sels shadow, but my reputation is my own. I swear on my own life, I will follow your direction and give your people all the respect and dignity I would give to my own ancestors." His hands fell still as he gave the interpreters and translator time to convey his message. Amahr nodded, looking satisfied. The elders behind i-hir stepped forward and whispered something to i-hir, and he voiced their query.

"We wish to know why you, personally, chose to accept the invitation here," he stated. "We know the goal of this archaeology team. We knew what your grandfather's intentions were. What is it you seek, K'arik Aresh-Takran?"

A long pause sat in the air as K'arik considered the question. He answered with slow gestures but his hands were not held back by hesitation, and the interpreter spoke his words with a clear, confident voice.

"I seek to understand," he signed, "to feel the history of our people with my own soul, though I know it is a painful history, full of grief and anger. Perhaps if I know it better, I can be part of the foundation for a better future." He dropped his hands and waited for a reply. The centaurs spoke quietly amongst themselves, and Amahr waved the guard back, removing the threat of the spear.

"We will guide your team to the space we have designated for your camp," Amahr said, turning to address Parva and the other leaders. K'arik remained where he was, ears tilted quizically.

Parva waved the wagons forward, and they all slowly entered the centaur's forest, driving past K'arik and following the guard centaurs deeper into the shadows beneath the trees. Morianon left Sitla on the wagon and flew to Parva's side, watching K'arik carefully. Amahr knelt and took K'arik by the hand, lifting him to his feet.

"Your title of wisdom rings true," Amahr said quietly, "though many of my people will still be wary of you. You must prove to us that your grandfather's integrity and honor have not died with as'el." I-hir stood back and nodded to K'arik, then followed the other centaurs and the wagons. K'arik stood staring up at the woven branches of the arch, closed his eyes, bowed his head, and walked forward.

— end chapter —

#writeblr #mm excerpts #mm 1

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memento-morianon · 17 days ago

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seduction montage

masterpost of excerpts over here

Between other scenes, Evarin is noticing Mori's stubborn refusal to allow himself his usual sexy springtime desperation. This is the season when he is usually very needy and whiny, but he's repressing it as he prepares for his archaeology trip.

So Evarin decides to seduce him into having a little sexual relief before his big trip.

these scenes will have to be scattered in between other plot beats, but the actual sexy scene happens just a few days before Mori leaves for the archaeology trip. so all at once like this, the pacing will feel odd. once they're in proper context it will feel less hasty.

also please ignore the lack of Dog. Sitla exists. she is probably nearby during all of these scenes. don't worry about it.

18+, nsfw, Evarin gets a little pushy and things get a little kinky, but boundaries are respected and it's still pretty mild and not terribly explicit.

not long after new year's:

Evarin set aside her weaving and sighed, leaning back against the soft couch cushions. She glanced at Morianon, half obscured by his ragged wings as he hunched over a new telegram from Zarek. As his back was turned slightly towards her, she could she the nubby pin feathers coming in on his spine. Even this early in their growth, the golden yellow color was visible under the keratin, standing out against the darker green feathers all around them.

Evarin hummed and turned her attention to her feet, wiggling her toes in the air and noticing the length of her hooves. They were beginning to curl at the tips, despite the daily abrasion they received as she walked from place to place over gravel covered roads. With a mischevious smirk, Evarin swiveled and poked a foot between Morianon's flight feathers, resting her toes lightly on his thigh. He flinched in surprise and folded his wing back, craning his neck to give Evarin a chastising but amused glare. He set the telegram down and grabbed her ankle.

"Ev, my love," he cooed, "I already gave you your holiday favor. Do you think you're going to get anything more from me before my feathers finish growing?" He shifted on the couch, settling in to look at her more directly as he toyed with her foot. Evarin giggled and shrugged.

"Oh, I was only going to ask for a hoof trim," she replied coyly. Morianon hummed and inspected her toes, pinching them together to check the length of her hooves and running his thumb over the curled edges.

"I suppose I can't let you walk around with overgrown hooves," he mused, and softly pushed her foot away before he stood and swept her up into his arms. She laughed and kissed his cheek, rubbing her snout in his soft feathers. He stumbled slightly as he carried her, awkwardly hefting her through the hall and into their room. She tumbled unceremoniously onto the bed, still giggling, her cheeks all warm and pink. Morianon huffed, bending over and bracing his hands on his knees. Evarin rested on her elbows, kicking her feet patiently over the side of the bed.

"You could have let me walk," she teased. Morianon waved her comment aside and pulled the hoof care kit out of the closet, along with a short wooden stool and a simple cloth to keep the mess contained. He left the room for just a few moments to fill a small washbin in the bathroom. when he returned to set everything up, Evarin decided to strip, lifting her legs up and kicking her trousers towards the closet before she rolled over onto her stomach and rocked her hips fliratiously.

Morianon scoffed and rolled his eyes at the display.

"Alright, come on," he grabbed one of her feet and pulled it down to his lap, tutting over the uneven lengths of her hooves. While she retained her amused grin and watched over her shoulder, Evarin knew better than to wiggle and tease while Morianon was working.

He held the hoof knife with a stern focus in his eyes, pressing its sharp, curved edge against the thick keratin and slicing away thin layers. Bit by bit, he cut away the curled edges and brought her hooves back to their proper shape. With another tool, he clipped the tips of her toes and her dew claws down to even lengths, rounding them out where they had begun to look too oblong or pointed. Every snip sent a slight tremor through her foot, but Morianon's steady hands kept her from pulling away at the sensation.

With one foot roughly finished, he ran his fingers up to her ankle and let go, grabbing the other foot to give it the same careful treatment, like a jeweler cutting precious stones. Evarin rested her head on her arms, closing her eyes with a loving smile. As soon as he completed the initial shaping, Morianon switched to a file, scuffing out the ragged edges on each hoof. Evarin couldn't hold back a soft giggle as the ryhthmic vibrations tickled her feet, but she braced herself and ignored the instinct to flinch and kick.

She sighed and relaxed when she felt the wet sponge brushing over her skin, washing away any dust and grime that might have been lingering on her feet. Morianon massaged her toes, pressing his fingers into the soft pad on the very bottoms of her feet where all the muscles gathered. He applied a lotion next, fragrant and soothing. And then at last the dry cloth that cleared away any residual soap or lotion, and the pine resin hoof polish that would prevent cracks and chips as she went about her daily activities.

Evarin rolled to her side, peering back at her husband. He kept her feet in his hands, lifting them up and nibbling them softly as he returned her coy gaze.

"You do better work than any pedicurist I've known," Evarin praised him. A little flattering exaggeration that brought a hint of red to his cheeks and made the soft skin at the side of his nose puff up slightly. Evarin sat up and pulled her feet out of his hands to run her toes down the front of his tunic. His brow furrowed and he grabbed her by the ankles again.

"It's still too early, you know," he chided, "I told you, you're not getting anything more from me until these feathers are done growing." He pushed her feet towards the bed and stood, brushing little bits of hoof off his lap.

"It was worth a try," Evarin murmured, batting her lashes innocently. Morianon squinted in amusement and cleaned up, putting everything back where it belonged.

a few days before k'arik's ritual, maybe? timing undetermined, but further along in Mori's courting plumage growth:

Evarin quietly entered the study and watched Morianon at his desk, Sitla at his feet like a little lump of shadow beneath the desk. His wings were hunched, his golden pin feathers were twitching, and he was resting his head on one hand. He perked slightly when Evarin cleared her throat.

"Mori? you look exhausted."

"Yeah, well. Nightmares and work and all that," he mumbled, waving his hand with a pen between his fingers. He was going through a stack of papers, lining and circling various pieces of text and writing notes in a blank book. Evarin sauntered closer and leaned over his shoulder, putting her hands lightly on his wings.

"Why not take a break and come do something fun?" she prompted. But he stiffened under her touch and tucked his wings closer to his body.

"Pickle." he replied, keeping his voice steady and sharp. Evarin lifted her hands and stepped away.

"Oh, sorry. Never mind then." She rocked back on her dew claws and ducked her head slightly. "You should take a break though. You've been working for hours."

"Has it been that long?" Morianon turned and looked at the clock on a shelf nearby; a simple but beautiful piece of dwarven craftwork. "I guess I am rather hungry." He hummed and tapped his pen on the desk. "I'd like a few pickled fish," he mused, giving her a pointed look, "but you won't let me eat those indoors." His golden brown eyes were piercing, and Evarin responded by crinkling her snout, baring her teeth slightly.

"Ugh, you and your stinky cravings," she muttered. Then she huffed, crossing her arms and tapping a hoof. "Fine," she sighed, "fine, I'll bring you your rancid snack. But it cannot leave this room, and you'd better open every window while you're eating it." She jabbed a finger in the air at him, glaring. His brows raised in amusement.

"Aw, you're so sweet," he teased.

"And you're not interacting with me again until you've chewed some mint or something," Evarin added. She left the room, rolling her eyes, and headed to the kitchen to fetch the horrid jar.

a couple days before mori leaves for centaur archaeology:

Morianon had been a restless sleeper, between his usual nightmares and his stress over the upcoming archaeology dig. Evarin huffed, scrunching her eyes tighter closed as she felt him shift behind her once more. His hands absently clutched at her, his feathers bristled and brushed agaisnt her skin. She cocked an ear, listening for the soft cries that usually accompanied his nightmares. Instead, she heard a slight gasp, and a sound that might have been her name.

"Ev," he breathed, and his head rubbed against her neck. She roused her senses, groggily trying to make sense of his fumbling motions. His hips bumped her thighs a few times, shoving the hem of her underwear up her leg, and she chuckled quietly.

"Ah, that's what it is," she mumbled, "having a good dream for once, aren't you?" She reached back and ran a hand through the feathers on his belly, making him shiver and moan in a light chirping voice. She didn't dare wake him after so many sleepless nights, but she rolled her hips against his and teased his slumbering arousal for a short moment. "Well, maybe you'll be in a better mood tomorrow, huh?" She yawned and snuggled into his arms, gently moving his hands to cup her breasts. "Sweet dreams, pretty bird," she cooed before letting herself drift back to sleep.

—

Evarin awoke again when the sunlight touched her eyelids and Morianon stirred behind her, groaning and grumbling.

"It's too early for this," he muttered. Evarin sat up and faced him with a smug expression.

"Morning, Mori. Did you sleep well? Dream nice things?" She giggled as he gave her an exasperated glare. The feathers between his legs were a little bit stuck to each other and slightly damp.

"Oh, playing coy, are you?" he accused, crawling forward to straddle her legs and lean over her. She wiggled her snout and teasingly ran her fingers over his chest

"I think your spine feathers are starting to come out of their sheaths," she said, "don't you want me to help preen them? You should look your best before your big trip, right?"

"Only the shorter ones are ready for it," he replied, moving back and stepping off the bed. Evarin followed him to the bathroom and sat behind him at the edge of the tub. The water was cold and low, only a trickle falling from the spout like a shallow fountain. Morianon leaned over to turn the valve for the water but left the heat rune alone, allowing the bath to fill and keeping it cold.

While he washed himself, splashing water over his navel, Evarin picked at the keratin on his back plumage. She gently stroked each pin feather, pinching softly to check which of them were ready and which of them still needed to grow. Morianon shivered at her touch, flinching away when she pinched the stiffer, unfinished feathers. They were all different lengths, shorter towards his tail and longer towards his neck, laying over each other like a folded fan. The thin keratin sheaths cracked and flaked between Evarin's fingers, revealing the soft golden yellow filaments of each feather. They almost seemed to glow, catching the light in their fuzzy silhouettes.

Evarin toyed with the feathers, reaching down to pick the keratin away from their roots. Morianon whimpered quietly as her thick hoof-like nails dragged against his skin, making the fan on his spine stand upright. He leaned into her touch, so she scratched and massaged his back even more, kneading the knotted layers of muscle between his wings and scraping away at the flaking keratin around his feathers.

"Are you tired of holding back yet?" Evarin teased, peering over her husband's shoulder with a mischievous smile. He pressed his thighs together and pointedly folded his hands over his groin, casting her an embarassed glare. Evarin tutted and slowly ran her hands down his spine. He squinted and clenched his jaw, but a stuttered whine slipped past his teeth.

"Ev, please," he gasped. Evarin hummed and tapped her fingers on the long pin feathers until he shivered again.

"You know, I think you're right," she said, "it is too early, isn't it? And you do have a very important work trip to prepare for." She pulled her hands back and stood, swallowing her laughter and biting back a grin. Morianon made an incredulous noise, whirling around and reaching desperately towards her.

"No, wait, come on!" he begged, "Ev-!" He slipped off the edge of the bath in his haste and splashed awkwardly in the cold water.

"I'll just wait out here, you can clean yourself up." Evarin waved and stepped into the bedroom, closing the bathroom door just enough to keep herself out of Morianon's sight. She sliped out of her underwear and dropped down by the wall, cupping a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles and turning her ear to listen to Morianon. He was barely forming words in his frustration, huffing and whining at his predicament like a dog desperate to be let out. Evarin waited until his annoyance seemed to give way to acceptance and his grumpy whining turned into needy chirping moans. She grinned triumphantly and began to touch herself in tandem. She closed her eyes and listened, shivering with glee but keeping her own voice quiet.

It was easy to get lost in the warm joyful feeling of arousal, accompanied by the sing-song echoes from the bathroom. Morianon finished first, with a sharp keening cry, and Evarin followed with her own climax, finally giving voice to her pleasure. She sighed and her whole body relaxed, though she only allowed herself to stay there for a moment before she stood and returned to the bathroom on wobbly legs. Morianon was slumped over the side of the bath, wings askew, breathing heavy. He glared up at her and tossed a handful of water at her as she approached.

"Had to rile me up just to have your own fun, did you?" he chuckled. She slid into the bath beside him, hissing slightly at the cold water.

"I can't help it, when you're singing so pretty for me," she retorted. He hummed and wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling into her shoulder.

"I'm not going to tell you you were right," he muttered.

"I was though."

"When I'm home again, I'll do everything you want," Morianon whispered, reaching up to nibble her sideburns, "no more holding back." He let her go and returned to the task of cleaning himself. Evarin sighed contentedly and turned the heat rune to its active position, warming the bath so they could both relax a little better.

— and that's good enough for now I think —

#mm characters #writeblr #mm excerpts #mm 1 #courting season

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memento-morianon · 17 days ago

Text

"chapter" 16

another batch of disconnected scenes! in which I also had an epiphany for a plot thread that will really fix a lot of the problems i've had with pacing and tension, i think! the whole purpose of a first draft is just to get all the idea out in a semi-organized manner, and sometimes you run into new ideas in the process. the second draft will be an interesting challenge lol.

masterpost of excerpts

scenes: Evarin helps Mori's adoptive sibling Kouto, Mori visits the university library, and then Mori gets some help from Obeli Moruga, the old goblin.

(this scene with Kouto should happen well before K'arik and Evarin's chat about Mori's soul, because Kouto also has a weird soul due to magic trauma. While the full details and context of Kouto's condition will obviously be explained better in the side story where lu is a protagonist, I will try to add enough of it in this story so readers aren't confused. the summary is that Kouto suffered through a plague in lur birth country, which killed lur birth parents. experimental magic treatments saved Kouto's life but had some long term effects, including permanent damage to lur soul. it's hard to find medical singers who can work with an abnormal soul, but Evarin is fluent enough in Urukish that she can improvise well beyond the standard memorized songs. she's also used to weird souls because of Mori.)

[also it's been a while, maybe, but quick reminder that gnomish 'cussing' type exclamations are usually centered on the mountain goddess. the full length exclamation used by Evarin's father in an earlier chapter was "by the mountain's great glacial tits", and this is typically shortened to "glaciers", "tits", "mother's tits", and other such variations. "glaciers" is the least offensive variation. they also use variations on "what under the sun's burning/scorching gaze", but this phrase is used in very different contexts from any mention of the mountain's glacial tits. I had a lot of fun making this gnomish slang, if you couldn't tell.]

[Evarin is in the front room, sitting on a couch in the elvish style conversation pit. Raisha is in the kitchen making herself lunch]

Evarin counted carefully as she worked; one, two three, skip, one, two, three… The yarn slipped from her hook again, and in her haste to correct it she accidentally pulled out several stitches.

"Oh, mother's tits," she hissed, grumbling under her breath as she caught her working loop and put her hook through it before any other stitches could come loose. She held the yarn tighter and carefully redid her work, turning the hook and coaxing it through each loop with a sharp focus in her eyes. She nearly cussed again when a knock at the front door drew her attention. Raisha hurried from the kitchen to answer it.

"Kouto!" she exclaimed happily, welcoming in her older sibling. Evarin set her work aside and leaned over the back of the couch to see Kouto enter the room, looking frailer than usual in lur wheeled chair. Lur dark, tired eyes were harshly contrasted by pallid skin that was marked all over with lacy under-the-skin scars. Lur chair was pushed by a stroi man; a hired aide who was so quiet and adept at blending in, he was easy to overlook. Evarin couldn't recall his name.

"Sorry to interrupt your day, Evarin," Kouto said meekly.

"You look like you're having a rough time of things," she replied, "hard day?"

"Several, honestly," Kouto muttered. Raisha cast her older sibling a disappointed squint. Kouto grimaced.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, I've already had an earful from Talib and Mel. I know, I should have come by much sooner." Lu gave Evarin a sheepish pleading glance. "You're one of the few people I trust to handle my… condition. Do you have time?"

"Of course." Evarin got up and left her yarn behind, but Kouto gingerly stood up and came to her. Raisha caught lu by the arm and Evarin hurried forward to help. "You could have stayed in your chair," she chastised lightly.

"The couch is more comfortable," Kouto replied dismissively, waving her and Raisha off and walking down the short ramp to sit in the conversation pit. Raisha rolled her eyes and flicked the air with her tail. Evarin briefly glanced at the aide, who merely shrugged and pulled a small book from his pocket, adjusting his glasses and stepping back to lean against a wall and wait. Evarin cleared her throat and sighed, opening her breath and pushing aside her frustrations as she prepared to sing.

"Alright, tell me what you need," she asked, "I can guess, but it's easier if I have a specific direction to work from."

"More of the usual, really," Kouto said, "I've had severe pain flares all over my body for several days; can't sleep well, haven't been able to work." Lu gestured towards the wheeled chair. "Obviously even getting around on my own has been difficult. I hoped the pain would fade on its own, but the ointment I use hasn't helped much and I don't want to overuse it. And, well, you know why I can't go to a regular singer." Lu glanced aside and shrugged.

Evarin hummed and flitted through the songs in her mind, focusing first on the standard memorized lyrics she had learned in full choirs at the university, then picking through the urukish language to alter her chosen song. Kouto, like Morianon, had a damaged soul; the sort of damage only brought about through magical trauma. for Kouto, it was the result of experimental medical treatments in childhood. They'd saved Kouto's life, at the cost of long term pain and fatigue, and a soul that could no longer interact with magic the same way most others could.

"Alright," Evarin sighed, stepping forward and lifting her hands, "be still. I'll do what I can." She laid her hands on Kouto's head, and lu closed lur eyes reverently. Evarin breathed deep, filling her chest, and began to sing.

There was a harsh dissonance between Kouto's soul and the ambient magic that flowed through it. It wobbled like a fire in the wind, ragged and weak. Evarin sang and shifted the tone of her voice, altering her pitch to give harmony to the dissonance. She felt the sharpness in Kouto's body, the false signals burning through lur nervous system as the flow of power fragmented and seared its strange patterns into Kouto's skin. Evarin sang to the overactive nerves, calming their frantic dance. She sang to Kouto's soul, shifting the flow of ambient magic until it felt more like an aimless eddy than a crashing wave. Her own soul ached at the effort, and her voice threatened to falter. Kouto's soul still flickered like a small fire, but it gradually calmed and became a more comfortable, gentle fire.

Evarin drew in a full breath and released her hands, stepping back. Her legs trembled and her heart stuttered for a moment. Kouto leaned back and settled in the comfortable cushions of the couch, tension falling from lur face.

"Thank you," lu murmured. Evarin nodded, focusing on her breath and steadying her heart. She sat beside Kouto, picking up the awkward square of yarn that might eventually be a blanket and rolling the clustered stitches between her fingers. Raisha joined them both, having waited and watched from the other side of the conversation pit. She took Kouto's hand for a moment, squeezing it in a comforting gesture but frowning judgementally.

"Having both you and Mori as siblings, I think it's a wonder I didn't grow up more stressed out," she complained, "you're both too stubboorn for your own good."

"I'm afraid he learned it from me," Kouto replied, "how is he, anyway? Haven't seen him much since New Year's, is he handling himself alright?"

"He's fine," Evarin replied, though her snout crinkled in a slight grimace. "Just his usual flighty self, itchy and stressed out. But he's at the university right now, trying to study up before his big trip to the centaur territory. He's very excited."

"He should be," Kouto laughed, "it's such an amazing opportunity. Hard to believe he's made it this far, when I remember what a frightened little thing he used to be." Evarin and Raisha murmured their agreement. Evarin's mind wandered back to those days, when the Larak family returned from their few years living in the southern continent with the frail, half-feathered young boy and his unusal dog.

"It's a shame you can't go with him on this trip," Raisha interrupted Evarin's thoughts. "Though I understand why the centaurs are putting such strict limits on who's allowed to be there."

"I have my own work to do as it is," Evarin said with a dismissive shrug. Kouto nodded, and carefully stood up, stretching with a tired groan.

"Sorry, I should get going," lu piped up, "you know I love to chat, but Talib and Melachi might worry if I'm away too long."

"Oh, of course," Evarin stood and Raisha joined her, both of them shadowing Kouto's steps until lu made it back to the wheeled chair and sat down. Lur aide immediately put away his book and took his place again, holding the chair's curved handle and waiting for Kouto's direction.

"You're welcome to come by our place while Mori's away," lu invited, "not that we have much going on either, but at least we can all keep each other company."

"I'll bring over a game or two," Evarin laughed, waving Kouto off. Lu nodded and gestured to the aide, leaving the house. Raisha followed along and closed the door behind them.

===

Mori at the university:

In spite of the itching that crawled up his spine, Morianon felt calm as he perused the university's library, scanning the shelves carefully with Sitla at his side in an official looking vest, her leash loosely wrapped around his wrist. On every shelf, modern style books with soft paper pages bound in leather sat by older books made from thin wooden slabs bound by loops of corded sinews. Scrolls made of drow silk or parchment were carefully organized in square slots between wider shelves. Gentle rune lights cast their glow over the whole room, making duplicate shadows on every surface. The lack of windows and sunlight made the large space feel somewhat confined, and it was easy to lose track of time, even with the enormous clocks that covered the sides of every pillar, or hung on the walls and the ends of each shelf. But the liminal feeling of the space was a necessary sacrifice to prevent sun damage to some of the more precious texts and artifacts stored in the library.

Morianon stepped up on a set of rolling stairs and pulled a book from the shelf, skimming its first pages. He had known it would be difficult to find any texts on centaur culture and history, aside from records of their wars with the orcs, but he was still disappointed to read yet another table of contents that only listed one chapter on the topic of post-war centaurs, towards the end of the book. He set it back on the shelf and stepped down. While he stood frowning at the shelves, the sound of soft footsteps came up behind him.

"Excuse me, are you Morianon Larak?" a shy voice asked. Morianon turned to find a goblin standing behind him, holding a hand-bound book. Lor wore gloves, as was standard for all goblins in the library; it kept the natural mucus of their skin from rubbing off on any pages or artifacts.

"I am. Can I help you with anything?" Though he was not a teacher of any sort, it was not uncommon for students to ask questions of the professionals like him who still used the university library and labs to do their work. The goblin ducked lor head and held out the book they were holding.

"I've been reading your thesis," lor said, "I'm graduating next year, so I'm studying other theses before I write my own. I think your commentary on visual symbolism in ancient art is fascinating."

"Oh, well, thank you." Morianon fluffed his feathers and felt his cheeks grow warm. He hadn't reread his own thesis in a long time, though he had the original copy in his study.

"I only wanted to ask," the goblin hesitantly continued, "since you wrote primarily about the imagery of winged people in ancient art, why didn't you spend more time on the comparison to how real winged people depict themselves? There's only one page about the art of quetzalin people, and I was surprised you didn't cite any firsthand sources for it." Lor waited patiently for his answer, ears tilting curiously. Morianon hummed sheepishly and averted his gaze, rubbing a hand over the feathers on the back of his neck.

"I've gotten that question a few times," he admitted, "truth is, I wasn't raised quetzalin. I'm half elf, and uh," he paused, carefully avoiding any unnecessary details, "well, I was adopted by an elven family after being displaced by a natural disaster." He gave the goblin an apologetic smile. "I haven't visited my birth country as much as I could have. Only attended one archaeological dig there during my apprenticeship. And I couldn't travel while I was writing my thesis, so I only had the sources you see here around you," he finished with a vague hand wave around the library.

"Oh." The goblin looked down at the hand-bound thesis and flipped through the pages for a moment.

"I've been meaning to write a follow up," Morianon added, "quetzalin history is still a very neglected topic in the broader world of academics. Maybe someday I'll have my name on some ipmortant books about it, huh?"

"That would be wonderful!" the goblin agreed, perking up with lor facial barbels wiggling. "You are lucky; I'd like to write my thesis on the pictographic writings of goblin revolutionaries, but…" lor throat puffed out with a croaking sigh, "the goblin revolution is so well studied. I feel like I would only be repeating what others have already written." Lor fell silent, fidgeting with the corners of the pages on Morianon's thesis. He took a step towards lor.

"Write it anyway," he said. Lor looked up at him with a hopeful gleam in lor eyes. "It's your thesis. It's meant to demonstrate your research skills and your passion for the topic. And you never know what you'll really latch on to during the research process; I only wanted to study winged statues in ancient burial grounds, you know." He chuckled softly.

"Really? But you only spent a few pages on those!"

"That's what happens when you start with one small idea and find a dozen more along the way. You've got a year; I'm sure your thesis will be amazing. Tell me your name, and I'll make sure to read it when you've graduated, alright?"

"Would you?" The goblin's ears and barbels waved gleefully. "Oh, I'm Ug'al of the Li'uch burrow." Lor held out a hand and Morianon completed the goblin gesture of greeting, pressing his own fingertips against Ug'al's and following the circle lor made in the air between them.

"I'm glad we met," he said. Ug'al nodded, and then lor looked past Morianon and winced.

"Is that the time? I'll be late! Sorry, and thank you!" Ug'al hurried away, waving over lor shoulder. Morianon waved back, amused. He may have missed the camraderie of being among fellow students, day in and day out, but he would never miss that flash of panic when he caught the sight of a clock and had to run to a lecture or class as if there was a charging moose right on his heels. At least he'd had Sitla with him then as well, keeping him on track.

He turned back to the shelves, forwning once more at the dearth of studies on centaur culture. A thought passed through his mind, and he followed it to the information desk, waving down a library worker; an elven woman with grey streaks in her dark, braided hair.

"Do you know if there are any copies of journals from an orc named He-esh Khur Takran?" he asked.

"I don't believe we do," the woman answered with a frown, "I'll check our records." She turned away and searched through some files as Morianon waited. He was disapppointed as she returned empty handed.

"Nothing?"

"I'm afraid not. He passed only a short time ago, so it's not entirely surprising that we haven't received any of his firsthand writings yet."

"Well, thanks for checking," Morianon replied. The woman's continued use of a living pronoun nagged at him, but he ignored it. It was not uncommon for people to misunderstand that part of the orcish and gnomish cultures, remaining unaware of the dead pronouns or failing to recognize their importance.

"I'll put a request in for our scholars to approach his remaining family and inquire on the matter," the elven woman assured him. Morianon nodded in thanks and walked away.

It would be easier for him to ask Th'elir about the journals himself, though he had been avoiding K'arik since the coronation ceremony and thus hadn't made time to visit the orcish village. He hummed in frustration, heading towards the university's artifact storage rooms. He felt silly and childish, hiding from some imagined punishment he knew would never come. But the look in K'arik's eyes from the night of the ritual still haunted his thoughts; that look of shock and worry as his dear friend got a proper look at the awul state of his soul.

Even if he could manage to perform such a powerful ritual himself, it was impossible for Morianon to get a look at his own soul. No one could see their own soul; the records of sages and oracles and religious elders who endured the awakening rituals of their own cultures were clear enough on that matter. He wondered what it looked like, to make K'arik's eyes widen so quickly. Was it mangled beyond recognition? Caught in shadowy claws and teeth, or strangled in a net of intangible cords? Evarin never commented on how it felt when she meditated near him, and for that matter neither had K'arik. Perhaps it was nothing more than a stunned reaction at the different experience of seeing something that had only been perceived as a feeling before. Like seeing the pulsing dim light of embers burn through wood after only feeling their heat for years.

Morianon shook away his wandering thoughts and entered one of the artifact rooms; the first few were filled primarily with local objects, arranged by region. Several of the cabinets were dedicated to donations from regular civilians, and others were dedicated to artifacts that had been found by actual archaeologists. Morianon walked past most of them, searching for the northern region where the centaurs lived. The cabinents bearing that label were almost entirely filled with orcish artifacts, all from the same clan Ikar's family was part of. The one orcish clan still located so close to the border of the centaur territory that the maps of the region showed a distinctive dent in that border around the side of the orcish settlement.

Morianon had his own key to the artifact cabinets, as much of his work took place in these rooms. As much as he loved traveling for field work, digs were only a fraction of what he did. He spent far more time piecing together broken objects like pottery and old bones, measuring spear and arrow heads, or analyzing field notes other people had written.

He searched through the lists that gave brief descriptions on each object in the cabinet, then opened a few drawers to find the handful of objects listed as potential centaur artifacts. All of them were broken weapon pieces found in some of the ancient battlefields where the orcs had made their final stand and surrendered at last. It was the opinion of some that the orcs had persisted so long out of a sense of honor, or as proof that they viewed the centaurs as their equals and no longer thought of them as prey. But others speculated that the orcs fought to put their prey back in their place, stubbornly refusing to accept the upheaval of their traditions and beliefs. It was impossible to know exactly when the orcs and centaurs had gained sapience, or how long the orcs had been aware of the centaurs as sapient people when they had previously been natural predator and prey, and all of the complicated details and lack of input from the centaurs themselves made the entire subject difficult to study.

Morianon sighed at the broken spear points and scraps of woven cedar bark armor. He would simply have to learn as he went, just like everyone else who had been invited to the dig. His disappointment at the lack of useful information was lessened at the thrilling thought that he would be part of one of the most significant archaeological digs of his lifetime. His feathers trembled in excitement. Someday, there would be students writing their theses on this dig, students studying centaur history and culture, and actually having a wealth of information to look through.

Morianon closed the cabinet and locked it, leaving the room with Sitla right behind him. His nerves were running circles through his body, reminding him how little time he had left to prepare.

=== i'll figure out a proper way to wrap that up eventually ===

Kaen and Mori hanging out:

Evarin caught the swift blur of green from the corner of her eye and looked up to see Morianon hurrying to the front door.

"Where are you going?" She called out, standing and setting aside her yarn. Morianon halted with Sitla wide eyed at his feet. He kept his eyes down as he replied.

"I'm uh, going out to get another jar of pickled fish," he mumbled. Evarin scrunched her snout and furrowed her brow in a disgusted frown. Morianon ruffled his feathers indignantly.

"You eat weird things too," he retorted. Evarin scoffed.

"Name one thing I eat that's as weird as pickled fish." She folded her arms and snorted lightly. Morianon held his head high.

"Cheese."

His short response hung in the awkwardly silent air. Evarin stared at her husband incredulously and flicked her eyes towards the kitchen, where Kaen had stopped rummaging through the pantry and turned to watch their spat instead. Evarin caught his eyes and wordlessly begged him for support, waving her hands and shaking her head, but Kaen only looked more amused. Morianon tutted.

"Oh please, it's a fermented glob of sheep's milk, that's at least as weird as preserving fish in a spiced vinegar brine," he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

"Fine! Fine, go get your terrible fish," Evarin huffed, "but don't you dare open it in my house. It smells ten times worse than cheese, and you can't argue with me on that." She dropped back onto the couch and picked up her weaving, fussing over the stitches. Kaen sauntered out of the kitchen and slid an arm around Morianon's shoulders before he could leave the house.

"Going to Obeli Moruga then? Mind if I tag along? I need a few things from the old goblin myself." He waved his tail in the air and tilted his head innocently. Morianon hummed as his feathers slowly fell flat against his body.

"Alright," he mumbled. Evarin absently waved them off when she heard the door open and swing shut with a thud. Annoyance bubbled in her mind and distracted her from her weaving, so she shoved it aside once more and stomped to the kitchen for a calming snack. She wrenched open the pantry door and snatched out a fresh jar of jam, but as she began to close the door she took a second glance at the shelves.

There was an unopened jar of pickled fish, right there on the shelf in front of her, pale flesh and silver scales crowded in with bits of alium and other strongly flavored herbs and spices. Evarin clicked her tongue in disbelief.

"That greedy little liar," she growled, slamming the pantry shut and turning to the counter. She ripped a chunk of flat bread from its container and popped open the jam jar, dumping the berry-red goop onto the bread without a spoon to spread it. "Well, he sure found one way to keep me from flirting with him until that dig's over," she huffed, folding the bread around the jam and biting into it like a fox ripping a vole from its burrow. She grumbled and mumbled around the mouthful, but her frustration was weak against the tart sweetness of the jam. "I've got more important things to deal with anyway," she sighed, licking the last remnants of jam off her lips and returning to the unfinished blanket on the couch.

—

Morianon released his breath in a long exasperated sigh as he hurried down the road. He shrunk away from Kaen, wishing his sister's impulsive husband had just minded his own business and stayed home. As if it wasn't already hard enough to have a straight conversation with Obeli Moruga, now he would have to contend with Kaen's presence as well.

Sitla's damp nose tapped his hand, reminding him to stay focused. The shadows of nightmares still drifted through his mind. Not proper nightmares, but the horrid visions of death that always found him in his sleep, always pierced through his mental barriers when he was too unconscious to keep them at bay. One night, a vast fire, the next a flood. Most recently, a battlefield. The more stress he was under, the more difficult it became to shut away the visions; and the more often they snuck through, the more stressed he became. He knew Evarin would have tried to sing it all away, if he asked. But her songs could only do so much, and the exhaustion in her eyes made him keep his burdens to himself.

"Don't you think?" Kaen's voice shook Morianon from his darkening thoughts. He blinked and slowed his pace.

"What? Sorry, I'm not all here." Morianon grimaced apologetically and Kaen shrugged.

"Ah, never mind. I was only remarking on Obeli Moruga's eccentricities."

"Eccentric doesn't begin to cover it," Morianon chuckled, though it was forced. Kaen nodded and seemed to be mumbling to himself rather than continuing the conversation properly. Morianon ignored him.

The little moss covered mound of a house looked warm and inviting, as always. Morianon barely paused after he knocked, walking right in at the first hint of a sound from Obeli Moruga.

"I wondered when you'd come by," lor croaked, "and Kaen with you, of course."

"Lovely afternoon, Obeli Moruga," Kaen piped up, "don't mean to intrude, but I've burned through all my good candles and I was wondering if you had any more I could use?" He stepped past Morianon, smiling down at the wrinkled old goblin. Obeli Moruga nodded and waved a gnarled hand towards a small closet door on the other side of the room.

"Plenty more where those came from," lor said, "take all you need. How are your experiments going? You're still alive, at least." Lor grinned, sharp teeth and dark eyes glinting in a way that sent a shiver through Morianon's skin. Kaen hummed ponderously as he opened the closet and perused its contents.

"Oh, you know, the usual. Feels like I'm close to something, but I always have to pull back right before I figure it out. The real trouble with sacrificial magic is just how tedious it is to sneak up on death and dance back before it gets you. But I'm sure if I just keep building my endurance, I'll find what I'm looking for."

"I'm sure you will," Obeli Moruga replied, but lor eyes were focused on Morianon. Lor gestured for him to take a seat, so he did. Sitla laid down at his feet. "Now, I'm sure I know what you're here for," lor said. Morianon nodded.

"It's harder to block, when I'm under so much stress," he explained. He kept his eyes locked on Obeli Moruga, pleading silently for the help only lor could provide. The old goblin nodded and hummed, throat puffing slightly with the sound. Lor shuffled to a cabinet in the tiny kitchen and brought out a packet of herbs. Kaen turned away from the closet with an armful of candles just as Obeli Moruga was returning to Moriaon, and he nearly fumbled his steps as their paths crossed.

"Whoops, sorry!" he laughed, "thank you for the candles. Hopefully I don't go through this batch too quickly."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Obeli Moruga replied, "the pixies are good to me; I can get more candle wax any time I need it." Lor set the herb packet in Morianon's lap. "Steep that and drink it before you sleep. Maybe slip a little pixie honey into it, if you can handle that. It's a bitter brew, and it won't actually block anything out, but it should fog your mind enough to relieve the stress."

"Thank you." Morianon tucked it away in his pocket and sighed. His feathers were tense as Kaen's piercing gaze swept over him.

"I won't tell anyone," Kaen chuckled. Morianon bit his tongue and allowed Kaen to keep his assumptions.

"Don't overdo it," Obeli Moruga continued, "I know you know that, but it's worth a reminder." Lor nodded and hummed again, looking down at Sitla. "Well, you can come visit again if you need anything else."

"I will." Morianon stood and tapped his thigh to direct Sitla to follow him. "Thank you again, for everything. You've been a great help, all these years."

"I do what I can." Obeli Moruga waved them both off, leading them to the door. Kaen unwrapped a portion of his clothing to carry the candles more effectively before he stepped outside.

"See you around then!" he said cheerily. Morianon paused in the doorway.

"Ah, I told Evarin I was coming for fish," he hastily remembered, "could you give me a jar?"

"I could give you twenty," Obeli Moruga laughed. Lor shuffled back to the kitchen and hefted a glass jar off a shelf, carrying it back to Morianon. "This one's got a different herb mixture than the usual," lor said with a gleam in lor eyes, "I think you'll enjoy it."

"Perfect," Morianon chirped, taking the jar like a giddy child.

"Alright, off with you." Obeli Moruga shooed him out and closed the door with a smile. Morianon followed Kaen down the road, already more relaxed than he had been. Kaen glanced back and flicked his tail in the air curiously.

"Mind telling me why you're so sneaky about the weird tea? Evarin would understand, I'm sure. It's just to keep your nightmares and stress levels down, isn't it?" He squinted slightly at Morianon's hesitant silence. Morianon hummed vaguely, avoiding Kaen's eyes.

"That is the main reason, yeah. Or, the central reason, rather." He cleared his throat, desperately searching his own thoughts for a better explanation. "My mind is easily overwhelmed, you know. Especially when I'm moving through seasons. But if I can at least lessen the effect of my night terrors, the rest is easier to manage."

"Doesn't explain why it's secret," Kaen persisted. Morianon glared at him.

"I have my reasons."

"Stubborn."

"Nosey." The two of them stared each other down, slowing their steps. Morianon ruffled his feathers and Kaen narrowed his eyes. They stopped walking, standing face to face in the middle of the road. A few other people were out and about, but none of them paid the pair any mind.

Kaen cracked first, grinning and turning his gaze aside.

"Alright, I won't pry. Until I forget, and then I might pry again." He sighed and nodded, looking unsatisfied but resolved. "You have been awfully tense lately. We should make time for a good hunt or something before you leave, huh? Get your blood pumping, run around like wild fools for a day."

"Sure," Morianon laughed and rolled his eyes, walking ahead so Kaen would be behind him as they made their way home.

[this mystery tea is my new plot solution! I pondered on it after I wrote the scene, and decided it solved some major writing issues. essentially, Mori has been receiving this tea from Obeli Moruga for years now, to treat a problem he refuses to talk about. As it is here, Kaen does not currently recognize the tea and assumes what the purpose is and teases Mori for being secretive about it. but if he, Evarin, or K'arik were to smell it, they would recognize it very quickly. the herbs in the tea are also used in a weaker form in incense or candles, as the ones Kaen is gathering. the main difference is how the tea is made and consumed, to strengthen its effects compared to the aroma and smoke from incense and candles. I'm still working out the details and I don't want to fully spoil it's true purpose yet lol but in the second draft I will make it a more integral part of the plot.]

#writeblr #mm world details #mm characters #mm excerpts #mm 1 #original writing

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memento-morianon · 18 days ago

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(Image description: sketchbook doodle of two characters in a meme format. In the top panel, a humanoid man with feathery wings and fancy courting plumage on display smiles cutely with big shiny eyes and sparkly hearts around his face, staring sideways at a gnomish woman with a pig-like snout who is frowning thoughtfully. In the second panel, she gives him a frustrated look and says "I'm not calling you 'pretty bird', it might be offensive!" He reacts by crying in disappointment, with a broken heart floating near his face. End description)

In my story plans, Morianon and Evarin spend their fifth wedding anniversary in his birth country, surrounded by other quetzalin.

And it's only then that Evarin thinks to herself that maybe calling her husband "pretty bird" as a pet name could be offensive and rude and maybe a little degrading? After all, it was considered a slur when people called goblins "frogs" or "toads". Is it equally bad to refer to the quetzalin as "birds"?

Morianon tells her to quit fussing, because the quetzalin have no history of being oppressed and called "birds" like it's a slur, and personally he enjoys being her "pretty bird". Though it's still smart not to use it willy nilly around all the other quetzalin, because it doesn't need to be systemically offensive to draw some judgemental looks lol

#mm characters #sketchbook

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memento-morianon · 18 days ago

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I enjoy writing character interactions! An irl writing group friend has told me they really love to "hang out" with my characters, so I think I've been doing a pretty good job of making them feel alive and giving them fun relationship dynamics.

I want to share some positivity with my fellow writeblrs. Especially those struggling with self-doubt and the inner critic that tries to suck the fun away from writing.

So, I encourage everyone to share what makes them unapologetically happy about their writing.

What brings me a lot of joy is weaving character arcs together and taking them on a journey that changes them fundamentally as a character. What also makes me happy is adding a sprinkle of comedy in serious romantic scenes to ease the tension a little.

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memento-morianon · 1 month ago

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(image description: digital painting in shades of pale green and warm deep purples. it depicts a death figure, which has a humanoid bony arm and a canine skull decorated with a fringe of feathers. it is also wearing a metallic collar and a large feathery cloak. in its skeletal hand, it holds a glowing circular object that resembles a kaleidoscopic design. the object is lighting the whole image, its glow faint against the deep shadows. end description.)

Death holding a mortal soul. Death is depicted in many different ways in every culture, but canine imagery and bird imagery are both common. Souls also vary in their depictions, but most people seem to agree on their location and general form; a glowing shape that frames the head. how simple or detailed it is depends on the artist. Those who undergo rituals of spiritual awakening are sometimes able to see living souls temporarily, and they usually describe some manner of aura around the head.

My protagonist Morianon is an archaeologist, and he has done studies on ancient art. Specifically, he wrote his graduating thesis on the imagery of winged people in ancient art, and he noted that wings commonly showed up in connection with figures who also had some manner of head decoration that could be interpreted as a symbol of the soul. he concluded in his thesis that it was coincidental for so many ancient cultures to show winged people in their art, and that it was not, in fact, any proof that his own species, the quetzalin people, had ever had a global population or interacted with all these ancient cultures. rather, it was simply very common for ancient artists to use wings as a symbol of spiritual power.

#mm illustrations #mm world details #writeblr #original writing

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memento-morianon · 1 month ago

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it's tough to make short summaries about the cultures of all my people groups, but here's a look at the most significant details about my more central groups.

Orcs: their culture grew out of a hunting lifestyle, as their ancestors were the natural predator of centaurs. They once had a culture as nomads, following the centaur migration paths, and a lot of their spiritual beliefs on the cycle of life and death were centered on their relationship to the centaurs. But the centaurs became sapient right alongside their predators, and there was a whole conflict about it. a very violent conflict. the gnomes are the descendants of the orcs who left the conflict early and hid in the mountains.

nowadays, orcs live in more settled groups, no longer being nomads by default, and they have let go of many ancestral beliefs and cultural traditions. instead, they focus on the guiding wisdom of ancestral spirits and they have begun to domesticate other large herbivores that are not sapient, such as elk and bison. they're still hunters as well, and they still value warriors. their social hierarchy tends to be very familial, with clans of several families gathering to live together and organizing themselves with councils of leaders and spiritual elders.

Gnomes: as stated, they are the small cousins of orcs who fled to the mountains rather than participating in the conflict with the centaurs. The suddenly more harsh environment and lack of nutrition as they adapted to the new location caused them to shrink over a few generations. they still have the genetics to be very large and grow tusks, like the orcs, so there are many recorded instances of gnomes with certain hormonal conditions growing taller and having tusks. gnomes abandoned the majority of their ancestral culture. they are nomads now, in a different way from their ancestors. they stay in the mountains over the summer and spend their winters in caverns at much lower altitudes, usually following a westward path to match the sun. in the main setting, their winter caverns are on the coast. gnomes still honor their ancestral spirits, but they believe in a pair of deities; the mountain mother and the sun father, who adopted their people after they escaped to the mountains. historically, this religion has been rather anti-orc, portraying the gnomes as a better people blessed for their wisdom in fleeing the battles. but more modern worshipers view their ancestors as refugees who were taken in by caring gods, fleeing out of reasonable fear to find safety. still, some anti-orc sentiments cling to their social expectations, such as a belief that gnomes with tusks are more masculine and strong, but also more brutish.

actually that is a lot of text already lol how about i leave it there and tackle the rest another time.

Hey Memento Mori I would like to ask you did I can know more about culture and history of each sapient species? And how long each them live , when they hit their equivment of 18,30,35,40,50,60,70,80,90 and 100? Sorry If I made you angry fir so many questions or anwers are arleady here.

I'm never upset about questions! This project is a passion of mine and I could info dump about it all day lol.

Gimme a bit to prep all the info and I'll reblog this with more stuff later, but for a quick answer on ages at least, here are the main people species from shortest lifespan to longest lifespan:

- pixies, which are giant sapient insects in the same family as bees/wasps/ants, individually live around 10-15 years on average. Queen pixies live longer, with an average age of 25 years, and male pixies have the shortest lives at about 6 months from the time they complete pupation into an adult form. Males only biological purpose is to mate and then die, as is common in many eusocial insect species. But their short lives are not used to dismiss or abuse them, as they are considered highly important and given a great deal of honor and ceremony. Pixie hives claim a much longer lifespan as a collective whole, because they are mysteriously able to share memory with each other and this hive memory is passed along through every generation.

- goblins, which are a type of amphibian, on average used to live only 50 years, but since the time of the goblin revolution, they have begun to live longer, reaching 80 and even 90 years at the oldest. This shift in life expectation is attributed to the increase of mutual care between people species, which accelerated the advancement of medical science. It may also be attributed to those goblins that skip winter hibernation by staying in the warm homes of their mammalian friends during the cold months.

- quetzalin, the bird folk, live around 100 years at best, though most die in their 80s or 90s. They are far more physically active and have a high metabolism compared to many other people species, which contributes to their relatively shorter lifespan.

- coastal merfolk, centaurs, gnomes, and orcs all tend to live between 100-150 years of age. The orc who dies at the beginning of my story, He-esh, lived to 150 (subject to change based on other timeline details, but 150 was my original plan). All of them are mammalian species with hardy bodies built to withstand difficult environments and changing seasons. The coastal merfolk are pinnipeds (related to seals and walruses and sea lions) while the centaurs are descended from chalicotheres and the orcs and gnomes are of the same family as pigs.

- dwarves on average live between 200-250 years of age. They are actually the last remaining hominid species, more closely related to Neanderthals than homo sapiens, and they are also built quite sturdy with a more durable metabolism than the modern human.

- elves, stroi, and drow, the primate sylvanid family, all tend to live up to 500 years at best, with the elves often outlasting their cousin species. However, more recent studies have found that the sylvanid lifespan is slowly decreasing. This may be attributed to higher activity in the younger generations which has altered their metabolism, and this change of activity was mostly brought about by an increase of interspecies interaction, as younger sylvanids are spending more and more time in diverse communities. It is now speculated that the most recent generations may only live to 300 years on average.

- one exception to the longer lives of sylvanids are the drow matriarchs, who give birth to every child of their colony. They are a eusocial mammal species, with the majority being infertile and males being less common. Matriarchs tend to have a shorter life expectation due to the physical exertion of giving birth so many times. They're not built for it quite as well as pixie queens are, and frankly the pixie queens only need to lay a lot of tiny eggs, while drow matriarchs give live birth, the majority of which are twins. On average, drow matriarchs undergo their unique secondary puberty at 50 years of age and typically give birth once a year for 100 years, at which point they undergo menopause and face a swift health decline, living to the age of 200-250 at best.

- the ogres, a mountain dwelling species of sapient giant sloths, have the longest lifespan of any people species, living around 800 years on average. This extremely long life expectancy is attributed to their much slower metabolism and relaxed lifestyle. However, many people forget that ogres have such long lives because they are often viewed by others as less intelligent due to their seemingly limited vocabulary and their lack of collective settlements or even large nomadic camps. They tend to live in very small isolated groups that only travel a little to gather with other ogres for holidays or to trade with other people. They interact the most with dwarves, who live in their territory. Ogres will frequently leave their more vulnerable young ones in dwarf caverns for safety.

#mm world details

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memento-morianon · 1 month ago

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another scene

K'arik saw something odd about Mori after the ritual of awakening. He told Evarin to find time to discuss it. So here's their secret conversation.

masterpost of excerpts over here.

---

"I promised K'arik we'd meditate together today," Evarin explained as she threw a hooded cedar cloak over her shoulders, "I'll be home in a few hours, at most."

"You don't want me to join?" Morianon half-squinted, looking at her skeptically. She shrugged.

"Well, I know you don't really enjoy it the way we do," she replied hastily, "I ask you to join us because it's meant to help you, but-" she gave him an innocent, apologetic look and he dropped his gaze.

"No, it's fine. You mean well. I don't think I can meditate in the rain anyway, even if it's only a drizzle." He peered past her to the grey outdoors, frowning. "Have fun. I supppose. I might join Raisha and Kaen later, when they go to the market." He stepped back and nodded, reaching down to pat Sitla's head. Evarin pressed her snout against his cheek to give him a kiss and then walked out into the rain. It pattered down through the trees, muddying the roads wherever the gravel and woodchips were thin and sparse. Rather than suffering the whole walk out to the lake, Evarin made her way to the cart stop and paid for a ride, ducking into a covered seat.

Her mind wandered as the cart made its bumpy way down the road, pondering over Morianon's anxious behavior and K'arik's worried eyes. It was common enough for her husband to struggle through the early days of spring, shivering at the sound of heavy rain and rushing wind, scratching at the itch of his newly grown feathers, suppressing the hormonal urges that flooded his body. When he decided to let go, to hand off control to her and let himself relax, he would be fine and they'd spend the rest of spring and all of summer reveling in each other's presence; pleasure and laughter overtaking all their worries. Unless he was suffering from something more than his usual stresses, more than he was willing to admit. Evarin chewed the inside of her cheek and sighed.

She didn't mind so much that he had secrets. That was his own business. But she couldn't silence the nagging thoughts in her mind, the urge to pry and fix every little problem he faced. She couldn't remove his lingering trauma any more than he could remove the discomfort she felt whenever her stubble or tusks grew too long.

The cart rolled to a stop and Evarin got out, thanking the driver. They nodded and left the way they had come, heading back to town. It didn't take long for Evarin to spot K'arik standing on one of the docks that stretched out over the water. He wore a cloak around his shoulders, but the hood was down and his face was lifted to the pale grey sky. Little droplets of rain fell from the curved spiked of his antler crown, glittering like clear jewels. Evarin walked out to meet him and he turned to look at her when she had only taken a few steps onto the dock. His swift reaction caught her off guard and she hesitated a moment. He gave her an apologetic look.

"I find my senses are too sharp, these days," he signed, "your soul is so familiar to me, I felt your presence as soon as you arrived."

"Does it get overwhelming?" she asked, tilting her ears and gesturing with gentle hands. K'arik shrugged.

"I'm getting used to it." He nodded towards a sheltered firepit a little distance away and she followed him to it, sitting with him on the smooth stones around the pit. Though there was no fire, only a pile of cold ashes, the little shelter staved off the chill of the rain and wind. K'arik sighed and his face became serious. He signed with stiff, hesitant hands.

"Something is wrong with Mori's soul."

Evarin frowned and gave him a pointed look, folding her ears back. She held up her hands to reply, but he waved them down and continued.

"I know. It's always been strange, we've both felt it. But now I'm telling you it's more than strange. More than the trauma and his other selves."

"What more could there be?" Evarin signed quickly, shaking her head. K'arik lifted his snout and twisted it slightly, brow furrowed as he thought of an answer. His hands moved in wordless gestures, making vague rounded shapes.

"I only saw it for a short time," he replied slowly, "the sight faded by morning, and now I only sense living souls as an invisible warmth. But when I did see him- the first living soul I laid eyes on- it caught me by surprise. No one else there had a soul like his."

"I don't doubt it." Evarin kept her expression skeptical and K'arik snorted in frustration.

"Have patience, it's hard to describe such things. Few mortal eyes are able to view living souls, fewer yet have managed to depict them as anything more than a strange light around the head. And that is what I saw in every other soul present that night. More than just light, though, they're…" he paused again, tilting his head and making those wordless shapes with his hands again. "More," he signed.

"And Mori was different enough to worry you? Are you sure it wasn't just the shock of seeing it for the first time?"

"No, there was something distinctly wrong with it," K'arik repeated, gesturing sharply. Evarin ducked her head apologetically. K'arik continued, his hands pausing frequently to grasp for words. "It was light, just as every other soul I saw. Oddly shaped, perhaps, but I expected it to be. But there was something else there." One hand drifted vaguely upward.

"I've felt that, when we meditate with him," Evarin signed back, "like smoke. I assumed it was part of the trauma, or something like that. His soul is damaged, it's why he can't do magic and meditation frustrates him." She paused and pondered for a moment. "Come to think of it, his older sibling Kouto also has a damaged soul. I've sung for lur before, and felt it. It's not quite the same as Mori's, but there is that feeling, like something is leaking from it."

"I thought the same, until I saw it," K'arik replied. He hummed deep in his throat and tapped his foot. "You have felt the shadows around him?"

"Yes." Evarin folded her ears back.

"They're not part of him." K'arik's eyes were sharp as steel. The air felt suddenly cold, making the hairs on Evarin's spine bristle. She bared her teeth.

"Why didn't you start with that?" she signed snappishly. K'arik bared his teeth in return and huffed.

"Because I'm still figuring this out myself!" he signed with blunt gestures. "I still don't know what exactly I saw. I just know it was wrong, somehow. Those shadows, the feeling that some piece of his soul is always drifting away. It's more, and it's wrong, and I don't know how else to describe it." His shoulders were tense and his ears were flat against the sides of his head. He sighed and slumped forward, bracing his arms against his knees. There was a cold pit in Evarin's gut as she thought about the last time she had meditated alongside Morianon.

"I didn't mean to get angry," she signed softly. "We both care for him. We're both worried for him."

"And neither of us can do anything about whatever this is," K'arik agreed, gesturing vaguely. "It was like…" he mulled it over, staring at the ashes between them. "It was like the arc. I don't think the drifting you feel in his soul is entirely part of him. I think it has to do with the shadows. Something, whatever it may be, is tethered to his soul, and I couldn't see where it ended."

"I've never heard of such a thing," Evarin signed. "At least I don't think I have. Were soul tethers ever mentioned in professor [whats-their-name]'s class? Is that something that can be done?"

"Not that I'm aware of." K'arik shook his head. "But it's so difficult to study souls; almost impossible. If there are any records of someone undergoing a ritual to view living souls and describing all the notable traits they saw in a variety of individuals, I don't know if they'd contain anything similar to what I saw on Mori's soul." He itched the skin around his nasal piercing, which was still healing. Evarin glanced away, staring over the lake. The grey water rippled, peppered with raindrops and pushed around by soft winds.

"Sitla must be connected," she signed hesitantly. K'arik's ears perked.

"I was afraid to bring her into this," he admitted, "she makes me nervous, always has. It's not natural, whatever she is. But-"

"But she helps him." Evarin nodded. "No one wants to talk about it. I hate thinking about it."

"The tether on his soul wasn't tied to her, if that helps."

"Are you sure it was really wrong, whatever it was?" Evarin's eyes were pleading. K'arik grimaced.

"It felt horrible," he signed slowly, "when I saw it. I still can't describe what it looked like, but the feeling of it haunts me. Like seeing an elk stumble around with a dead rival still tangled in his antlers."

"Do you think Mori's in danger?" Evarin signed hastily. The cold pit in her stomach turned and turned, making her feel ill as she waited for K'arik's answer. He didn't meet her gaze, tapping his fingers against each other.

"I don't know," he finally replied. "If it's always been there, if this tether has been on his soul from the start, before we knew him, whenever Sitla first joined him, then perhaps it's no danger at all and I'm only afraid of what I don't understand."

"If it has been there all along," Evarin mused, "it must not be an immediate danger. But he does have a history, doesn't he?" She emphasized the word "history", grimacing at the word to draw attention to her true meaning. K'arik nodded, picking up the unspoken implication. They'd both grown up with him. She knew K'arik remembered those terrible fearful moments just as well as she did. Morianon, both wings broken, claiming he got distracted and fell to the ground by accident. Bandages around his left arm, on and off, again and again. Feathers stuck in his teeth, blood on his nails, bald patches torn into his wings and chest. It happened less and less, and Evarin couldn't think of a serious incident that had happened since their first year as a married couple, but now she wondered if there had been something else to it. Something other than the traumatic emotions that clung to his mind and made him desperate for release.

"How has he been, lately?" K'arik asked. "I haven't had a chance to meet with him since the ceremony. Will he be alright for the archaeology trip?"

"He's trying to avoid his feelings," Evarin signed and huffed in frustration. "You know how he is this time of year. He wants to hold himself together as long as possible, but he's struggling. Nothing serious, though. Just stubborn." She hummed and thought of his cold glare in Obeli Moruga's home. "Moruga knows something, I'm sure. Lor knows everything."

"That's true. And oddly comforting." K'arik snorted a laugh. "If Obeli Moruga is aware of it, lor knows more than you or I could ever figure out on our own. Lor may be a strange old creature, but if Mori was in real danger, lor would do something about it."

"Yes, you're right about that." Evarin felt her heart relax, like a slip knot pulled all the way through and undone. "Thank you for telling me about what you saw. I don't know what to do with it, but at least now I can be aware of it."

"I'll try to learn more, if I can," K'arik signed, worry still knitting his brow. Evarin nodded gratefully.

"I should get home. Mori thinks I only came out here to meditate with you."

"Maybe we should then, to calm our own souls."

[Evarin agrees and they meditate together for a few minutes, their souls brushing up against each other. Afterwards, they do both feel better and K'arik offers to accompany Evarin to the crossroads, where the road to the town and the road to the orc village split off from each other. They walk in silence and then say their farewells. Evarin returns home to find Morianon, Raisha, and Kaen arguing over what to make for dinner. She's glad to see Mori in good spirits, though she stares at Sitla with some suspicion. the dog looks back at her with those uncanny pale eyes, but the tension is rather ruined by her tongue sticking out funny. it's really quite hard to keep being worried about the total freak of nature when she looks like an empty headed pup.]

#writeblr #mm excerpts #mm 1 #original writing

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memento-morianon · 1 month ago

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