#{ guardian and seeress }

[forgottenarthur]

The Witch of Kil-kennar

(@forgottenarias as promised, witch hc's i was talking abt incoming!)

The Siege of Kil-kennar

Kil-kennar was an ancient castle, even said by some Astairans to be a site of religious significance, but it most assuredly was a strategic location. Roderick saw this straight off, early in the conception of his Conquest of Astaira, drawing up a thousand rolled scrolls and carefully drawn maps. If one wished to place a stranglehold on movement through the nation of Astaira, one needed to hold the ancient site of Kil-kennar. Yet, situated towards the center of the nation and controlling perhaps the most formidable river in the nation at its bend, it was a citadel from which and to which all trade circulated -- making it at once a place which was easy to reach -- and difficult to take.

The Varmont march took near a year to come towards its shore but, as soon as it did, it was a mad dash: whichever force first arrived there must seize it and hold it, come what may, if they were to conquer. When the first opportunity arose, it was Arthur's contingent which was in position to march on Kil-kennar and, receiving his orders, Arthur did not hesitate to do it.

Nestled up amongst mountain peaks, Kil-kennar was no easy place to capture, but it was not merely a military outpost. Before the war, it had been a bustling center of trade, making it both fort and citadel, a place boasting families and merchants as well as soldiers and, known for its religious qualities, quite an outcropping of true believers as well. Still, a siege was a siege and, even from the outside, Arthur had far more experience in war even at his young age than did most of those inside the fortress. For twelve harrowing days, Kil-kennar held out, but on the thirteenth, they surrendered. The challengers for the victors, however, were only just beginning.

Seeress of Kil-kennar

As Arthur instilled a military rule over the residents of Kil-kennar, he set up instilling the kind of rule that his father always did in occupied cities -- the great walls of the fortress which once had protected them now transforming in prison walls for the Astairas civilians within. Distressed and afraid, many turned to Áine, Seeress of Kil-kennar, a strong-willed and unswerving woman who was revered amongst her people for her bravery and her ability to speak with the guardians.

From the start, Arthur knew he must root her out, but the people hid her and gave her shelter, often at the risks of their own lives, as quietly she became the ringleader of a resistance from within. Áine was determined to do all in her power to thwart the Varmonts, and she began in utterly unswerving dedication.

Though the siege had lasted less than two weeks, holding the city was far more troubling and Arthur soon dedicated himself to rooting out the chief: the witch-woman Áine of the Weirding Way, whom his soldiers soon came to fear not merely as an opponent but as a prophetess and a mage of great power. While the priests of the one god insisted all her powers were merely for show, many whispered that the truth of her abilities could not, in truth, be disputed.

Fearing for his hold on the strategic city, Arthur turned his attentions to rooting out the witch, which he ultimately did with ruthless efficiancy yet, once he had her, a religious figure and a heroine to her people both, Arthur realized, first, that killing her would likely bring down a full-scale revolt on their heads, such that they would soon find themselves fighting a battle both from within -- and without. But he realized something else as well, she was no mere soothsaying, some icon of idolatry, but a woman of flesh and blood and, while he knew that his father would burn her at the stake, when Arthur looked into her eyes, he wondered if he could, indeed, do so. Would not a more merciful end prove better, if end she must? And, indeed, was it so very necessary to kill her at all? In truth, he grew not simply to see her for a human being, but to admire her for her bravery, her loyalty, and her unbending will.

The Purple Missive

Arthur could not long conceal that he'd caught her, however: not from the populace, and not from his father, either. After a particularly daring escape attempt, a messenger arrived at the gates of Kil-kennar, wearing his father's livery. "Kill the witch," his father. ordered. "Or you are not my son." The messenger then immediately ordered that a pyre be constructed at the heart of the town and informed Arthur that he would be Roderick's eyes and ears. If the witch were not dead within forty-eight hours, he would report to the emperor that Arthur had turned traitor to his father.

She was his friend, but Arthur marched Áine to the center of the village square, his soldiers forming an iron ring around the hastily constructed platform upon which they stood. He read out the order for her execution clearly and without pause and then, in one swift motion, he drew his sword and beheaded her in the sight of all.

"Go," said Arthur, her blood dripping from the sword still clasped in his hand. "Go now and tell the Emperor all that you have seen."

This decision, though adhering to the letter of Roderick's law, did nothing to please anyone. While the seeress was dead, she had been decapitated rather than burned to death, and in his fury, Roderick made a point -- on his own battlefield some miles away -- of rounding up everyone so much as rumored to be a witch. He then set his soldiers out uprooting trees which he turned into stakes lining either side of the the main road to the capital. Without any sort of trial, Roderick tied a suspected witch to each pillar and burned them all, lighting the march towards Malconaire in a butchery that became known as the Pyre Walk.

Meanwhile, within Kil-kennar the citizens rose up in rebellion, their leader having been brutally murdered without trial before them and, while Arthur managed to hold the city and beat down the insurrection, many lives were lost on both sides, a devestating loss for which Arthur was held as directly responsible by both sides. Furthermore, even many Astairans who acknowledged -- whether for good or ill -- his mercy in the means of dispatching Áine, still held him as responsible for the Pyre Walk as they argued that burning one woman, there, might have spared hundreds, many of whom were not even witches. On the Varmont side, many viewed his actions as having exposed a dreadful weakness: an unwillingness to do what must be done and make the hard choices.

Nonetheless, there are those who see his actions as heroic. Some Astairans believe that his merciful action was good in itself, and he ought not to be held responsible for his father's terrible actions afterwards, though many argue that who could have better foreseen this outcome than Roderick's own son? On the Varmont side, some are also sympathetic to Arthur's actions, though for varying reasons. Some believe that mercy, in itself, is good, while others take pride in him boldly executing a witch, himself, rather than leaving the deed to an executioner's flame.

The Butcher of Kil-kennar

Given his reputation of having cut down a woman with a blade, spilling weirding blood on a sacred site, and all the subsequent bloodshed that resulted, the governor of Kil-kennar who did this is sometimes known as the Butcher of Kil-kennar. However, it is not universally known at this individual was Arthur. Once his fury at Arthur's act of semi-rebellion had cooled in the Pyre Walk, Roderick realized that any weakness in his son's readiness to fulfill the letter of his laws might reflect as weakness in himself.

As a result, Roderick quickly set up the messenger he'd dispatched to Arthur as a fall man, spreading it about that the envoy had been a secret Astairan sympathizer and had delivered a garbled message to Arthur, wishing to thwart the Varmont cause, and executed the messenger as a traitor.

Not entirely satisfied with this explanation -- though beginning to believe that it was, indeed, the truth as Arthur had rarely before rebelled in anything, and thus wishing to exempt his son from the ill effects (though only after he'd punished him, himself) -- Roderick further explained that, while Arthur had held Kil-kennar, the messenger had not even reported to Arthur, himself, and it had indeed been someone else entirely who had received the orders and -- thus -- that, despite the fact that they civilians of Kil-kennar had seen Arthur do the deed with their own eyes -- this had merely been confusion based on the fact that many Varmonts looked the same to the Astairans and it had simply been a confusion. The Butcher of Kil-kennar was not Arthuar, at all, but someone entirely.

Arthur is not entirely aware of all of his father's machinations which took place after the fact in arranging not one, but multiple, fall men. His feelings, if he did find out, would be very complicated. On one hand, it would be the most his father had ever done for him. On the other, Arthur would not believe that anyone else ought to take the consequences of his actions -- for good or evil.

I also want to note that, while Arthur felt like in hindsight he should have, Arthur did not foresee the Pyre Walk, at the time of Áine's execution. He ~did foresee a rebellion within Kil-kennar but he couldn't see a way around it if he didn't want to turn traitor and, yes, he very much did choose his father over Áine and the poeple of Kil-kennar.

What, or if, your character know of any of this is entirely up to everyone, individually!

[forgotteneilionora]

OOC | Coronations

ok so first of all i haven't run any of this by @thelongforgottenrealm -- this is 100% hc'ing and therefore may or may not be in any way accurate, but id mentioned i was thinking abt this vs @forgottenroderick's coronation which i think was quite different (tho tbf he's had multiple crownings so they're probs pr old hat for him atp alkdjsflksdfj) eilia has only had the one

anyway! ok so i have this hc that maybe astaira, given its value system, maybe used some of the ancient anglo-saxon forms of government, so this is highly inspired by the witan's and its election of rulers, etc!

ASTAIRAN SELECTION OF THE FUTURE RULER

so my thought was that maybe you aren't just ~born to rule in astaira and that you are, in fact, chosen and must accept this choice given that its v much a role of service in their culture etc!! so, like the anglo-saxon aethelings, im thinking that there was a pool of candidates, so before her election, eilia was only the heiress presumptive rather than the heiress apparent bc it has to be voted and ratified by the witan/great council of astaira, a council made up of all the other leaders and magnates of astaira, each in turn repping the interests of their own ppl to the best of their ability etc

anyway! aethelings in early anglo-saxon culture are anyone born to a noble family (eventually it became just sons of the king, and that's usually how its translated now, but initially it was more!), but im thinking maybe for astaira its a slightly different qualification -- you have to have completed a trial of sortsans well as having having displayed your abilities by performing charitable acts and such on a big scale etc as well as having submitted your name to a list for consideration etc, that sort of thing! -- that way anyone no matter the rank of their family, can apply, but it also means you're not automatically in the pool even if you don't wanna be since its a srs responsibility etc! now, no question it'd def be easier to do this if you're already backed wealth and power etc but yeah!! here we are!!

so anyway! eilia's been trained for this her whole life, she wants it, she's good at it, she gets chosen. a representative is sent to her to invite her to take the crown for astaira's sake, and she of course accepts. this would def also have a public ceremony of her formally accepting the crown etc.

CROWNING

ok so i def picture her coronation as having taken place during the spring. everything is beautiful and green! t he and i do feel like there's a humility sort of aspect like they used to do so!! i also feel like they brought live, flowering frees into the palace and into whatever shrine in which she was crowned in the sight of the guardians/symbolically BY the guardians, etc and that everyone who came to witness was wearing like...flower and ivy crowns and such and there were garlands of flowers strung everywhere and babbling brook ran along the path from the castle to the shrine and birds were singing and it was all v lovely and v natural and v astairan etc

eilia's purification in which she is taken by the hand by a seeress who brings her to the brook in question which, having its mouth at the shrine, is considered a holy spring, and wearing just her shift w her hair unbound etc she is sort of dunked/bathed and lets all the old run away from her so she can paproach her new role as queen w a pure heart. the seeress then drapes her own cloak around eilia and, however poor it may be, it is a gift from astaira, and a mantel of state

next, still led by the seeress, eilia goes on foot without any shoes, cloaked in her new mantel of state and processes from the brook by her castle to the shrine. singers and musicians accompany her and those all around her may offer her any goods they like, all of which become artifacts of state and her reign and is is thus clothed rarhter than in any guady ornaments of gold and such -- woool and cotton and such things are what she wears, handmade by her ppl for her to wear as their leader

lots of these items are traditionally bracelets of flowers and vines, gloves to keep her warm on her walk, shoes, etc -- all of these meant to be the sort of thing ur common astairan would wear so that, no matter how guady her lifestyle might become, she will know what iis to spend a day clothed as an ordinary astairan is, and noen of it is intended to be rich or fine etc tho special care is often given to crafting such objects as a thank you to the new ruler etc. ba sically, the theme of the day is simplicity, and everything she is given must be white

throughout the day, she is obliged to ask for anything she might want. if she wishes to eat, if she wishes to sleep at the end of the day, whatever! she will spend the rest of her life giving orders, so today is for receiving them

when she reaches the shrine, which is totally open so everyone can see, etc, a humble bench is carried and she is obliged to sit there and hear the wishes of anyone who wishes to speak for her new reign. this can be literally anything! a tiny child can stand up and say they love kittnes! an old man can tell her that his crops are dead but his sheep are still fairing well! a student can wax poetical about philosophy!!! needless to say, this takes hours and hours and in some cases this part has gone on for days w the new ruler sleeping on the wooden bench only to wake the next morning to hear more, still obliged to beg for food from the ppl around etc until ppl stop coming up w things to say! it p robs does tend to be longer the worse the previous reign was bc there are more needs etc and, since i hc that eilia's dad was a pr good ruler, i imagine eilia's was relatively short

anyway, once that's finished, the seeress sends someone, called the herald of the seer, to the new ruler to take them by the hand and ask once again if they are still willing to take all this on!!!! if they decline after all that, there's no shame and they can return to their life etc.

if they still accept the charge -- which obv eilia did! -- the herald of the seer takes eilia by the hand and leads her into the shrine. there, she first asks the ppl to pray for her, then prays herself, and finally presents the gifts which the ppl of astaira have given her to the guardians as a symbolic gesture of the mutual relationship between ppl/ruler/guardians etc

now dressed only in her shift, again, eilia is clothed in the heavy robe of state which is, by design, quite physically hefty to represent the burden of rule

the bench is then carried into the shrine and, in the sight of all w the doors still flung open etc, eilia is crowed by the seer. the crown is also quite heavy for the same reason

now crowned queen, eilia processes back to the palace and is feted all the way w dancers and singers and poets

all are welcome to the palace, where live blooming trees reach towards the star-painted ceiling and a living stream has been brought inside, w the doors and windows all open and anyone who wishes to enter free to do so

anyway yeah obv none of this is canon! these were just some idea i had!!!

also def hc that the seeress who crowned eilia was ~also aine whom arthur later beheaded at kil-kennar so! that's fun!!

[fyresaber]

ffxiii-2 fragments after - chapter 1 overtura; reflections and analysis

ffxiii-2 fragments after opens with yeul = etro. we see the curse of the seeress is not only a sentence of prophethood, exile, seclusion, and death, but relegation of young girls and daughters to mutism by their families who pity them.

ffxiii proves time and time again to be about one essential relationship between mother and daughter. the very first word yeul = etro = the creator of humankind hears and speaks and yearns and dies for!

yeul/etro’s sentencing as a female seeress is paralleled with lightning’s entombment, the very first vision that yeul feels ravage her body. “she struggled until the end. she looked desperate.” it's very very critical to understand that lightning being swallowed by the earth was in many ways her death. she was buried alive—!

note: a vision of lightning is the impetus of yeul’s many deaths. as if caius didn't have enough reasons to hate her!

here it's also necessary to note caius truly is the only gentle and nurturing presence in yeul’s life. the way he treats her in this chapter alone makes it clear she could not have a more caring and concerned guardian/father. that man loves her and is entirely dedicated to her body and soul. (once again we revisit xiii as the only mainline final fantasy where every male character is designed entirely to revolve around a woman.)

and here we have serah’s first usurpation of feminine damnation, futility, and modesty, as she refuses to take her prophetic visions lying down as is typical of a seeress, and again and again chooses to act on her visions to spare others a worser fate, instead of suffering in silence. serah was breaking cardinal seeress rules from the start.

compared to the tempest that was lightning’s inaugural vision, we now have yeul gentled and by serah’s presence. my war and peace sisters... yeul serahisms

you have to love the intentional tangents drawn between etro, yeul, and serah as daughters. yeul idolizes serah the way serah does her sister, the way hope does her sister.

the first person who ever excites and inspires yeul is serah. (not a thought spared to noel, how very tragic and romantic) 😭 this narrative centers women through and through.

underrated xiii-2 theme is serah carrying out a repressed girl’s dreams. yeul lives vicariously through her at every moment.

screenshots taken from mecorx's translation

[bitbybitwrites]

for the wip ask me game: literally anything you can tell me about sanctuary, crumbs of a plot, dialogue, what you are writing next and what youve loved writing/what youve struggled with……. with the little you posted im obsessed already <3 <3 i want to know everything

Thanks for asking about Sanctuary 😊

So far I've established our first meeting of Prince Blaine and Kurt, our elven guardian of the spring and we've gotten a bit of a glimpse into Kurt's earlier years and how stumbled onto the Sacred Spring.

The next chapter we'll get a glimpse of young Prince Blaine and his life in the castle. I've got a few new characters introduced ( I do love adding those Glee cameos). I particularly enjoyed (and struggled with) our seeress, Mistress Fabray and her prophesy that young Blaine was able to witness.

Above is an inspiration board I made for the story, not sure if you've seen it.

Basically, what I hope for this fic, is that readers will learn that each of these characters has their own reasons for seeking a sanctuary for themselves and throughout the story they despite being very different, are quite similar to each other in many respects - which is how they start to bond. . . and eventually fall in love.

The word scramble had 14 different word/prompt entries. I have about 12 of them mapped out for the story so far, but might have to rework that to get those last two words in.

Thanks for asking, @kurtsascot !

If anyone wants to ask me about my WIP . . .

[roxas-von-einzbern]

You've ocs? Wanna talk about them?

Oh, yeah 😎

My first OC is Nora Vargas, who was born as a sort of mental self-insert. She's a 25-year-old, neurodivergent young woman currently studiyng for graduating in History at Rome's Univesity. A solitary soul, she has no friends outside the roman cats, guardians of the equilibrium between the Aboveground (basically, the world we live in and know) and the Underground (a hidden, magical world located mainly underground and wich is a crossroad for other dimensions) in the city of Rome, for whom Nora sometimes goes on "errands" as payment for a debt. Nora descends from a line of witches who lived between the two worlds, but, because of her father's disappearance when she was 5, she was kept totally separated from the Underground from her mother.... until some years ago.

Then we have Stingy Jack (at least my version of him): a silvertongued ghost condemned to walk the world for having outsmarted the Devil himself twice. Despite being a manipolative thief, an alcoholist bastard and having no problems with violence he apparently disapproves of mistreatment against women.

Leucrocuta the Fox and Skugge the Wolf are a couple of fey mercenaries and lovers who live to cause mayhem. Leucrocuta is actually the bastard son of a fey noble, the Fox-King, and a human seeress and shaman; he secretly dreams of killing his father to avenge his mother. Skugge wasn't aware of his otherwordly nature at first: to him, he was simply a common wolf, despite his ability to assume a human form at will, invulnerability and exceptionally long lifespan. After his forest was burnt down and his pack decimated he decided to venture in the human world, meeting Leucrocuta (or Leuca, as he calls him). They decided to become mercenaries and assassins for hire and never parted ways since.

Jamie is an awkward fey transboy mad scientist a la Entrapta from She-ra. Originally Crown Princess of his kingdom, since it allows female-only monarchs he essentially abdicated when he came out, but that's okay: he never liked the idea of being a ruler. Jamie would like to spend his life doing strange experiments because why not with the assistance of his bodyguard and romantic partner Moorchild, but fears the day his relatives will come for him....

Speaking of Moor (diminutive of Moorchild), they are a shapeshifting enby dragon, sold to Jamie's kingdom extremely young (though they're still a child for dragons standards) as a political hostage by their mother, chosen for being the "runt" of the litter. As soon as they learned how to shift their appearance they trained for becoming Jamie's paladin, since he was the only one kind to them. When Jamie fled his kingdom, so di Moor, in order to live with him.

Aaand that's all for now, folks! Wew, what a long post!

[starwrote]

" what questions do you have in mind, @dhahabibi? i have much knowledge of aaru and our ancestors. however, if you're looking to inquire about my own family history.. we'll have to settle over water or coffee." with arms crossed, the esteemed guardian and seeress in relation to king deshret kindly awaits for the honorary scholar from sumeru city to begin his questionnaire. it wasn't often, if at all, that candace was involved in any sort of school related studies, even if someone wanted to interview her for personal reasons. / ✶ ⋆｡˚ starter for alhaitham

[queenofcandynsoda]

Sol Fertilis: Clergy Religious Hierarchy

The language spoken in the Sol Fertilis Consentes Temple is called “Sacred Latin”, which is actually Classical Latin. It is only taught and used by the clergy and the Alpha Elders.

Highest Level (Located in Olympia)

Pope/Popess= It is the title who is the Alpha leader of the Church, The current one is Cilistinu/Vincenzo. They have complete authority over the Temple as they can directly communicate with the gods due to having a “double world” sight. Their spouse is known as a Saint, such as Saint Renata, and their duty is to produce as many children as possible. Their children are known as Infante.

Cardinal= It is the title of senior officials who are Alphas. They can be a part of the Ministry of Religion. They are chosen by the Pope to ensure there is complete harmony.

Sacerdos= They are female Delta Plus and Minus Elders who create the religious education that is connected to the training of female Deltas. The Sacerdos is deeply connected to the Pope and the Ministries of Religion and Academia. Their education helps enforced female Deltas to help maintain the structure of Sol Fertilis. It has five Schools attached to it. It is required that all Delta Plus and Minus girls take one of these Schools on their seventh and eighth levels of training in the Centers. This is how Missionaries are trained, such as strict celibacy, analysis of the religious text, and given chaste belts.

School of Trivis= Focuses on travel, psychology, and family.

School of Latonis= Focuses on midwifery, rituals, and social work.

School of Minveris= Focuses on education, judgments, and technology.

School of Cereris= Focuses on fertility, agriculture, and medicine.

School of Dianalis= Focuses on nature, environment, and

Region Level

Archbishops= They are Alpha leadership on the Region Level. They have direct communication with the Ministry of Religion.

Seer/Seeress= They are Delta Pluses who can practice divination and are married to the Oracles. Depending on which region, they use several different kinds of divination.

Oracles= They are Gamma Pluses priestesses who live in a major temple in a region. They are also put into a trio and all must marry the same Delta Plus, who is known as a Seer. Their job is to make predictions for the future, which are known as prophecies. They were chosen by the Pope himself and went into immense training to conduct the perfect divination ritual. It is also to produce at least six children altogether.

Bishops= They are Beta Pluses who oversee the Vestal rituals as Alphas are unable to do it.

Vestal= They are Omegas virgin priests/priestesses who watch over sacred flames, study the Book of Vesta Luna, and conduct rituals and rites. They are the only Omegas allowed to be virgins and only Alpha Elders, Acolytes, Oracles, Bishops, Archbishops, Sacerdos, and the Pope can interact with them. Vestals have more privileges than the average Omega, having their own property without marriage, higher education, learning Sacred Latin, and can retire with full pension and care from their acolytes. The information about them is highly limited to the public, especially Omegas.

Acolyte= They are Beta Minuses who assist the Vestals in rites, rituals, and everyday care.

District Level

Deacon/Deaconess= They are Alpha leadership on the District Level.

Flaminicia= They are female Delta Minuses who oversee rituals and special events. They also took part in mass as leading in the Omega and Gamma choir.

Martialis= Specialized in worship around Mars Sol

Venusalis= Specialized in worship around Venus Bellona

Vestalis= Specialized in worship around Vesta Luna

Epulones= They are Beta Neutrals that help create religious banquets.

County Level

Abbot/Abbess= They are Alpha leadership on the County Level. They lead in masses and rites.

Priest/Priestess= They are Alphas who are authorized to lead in local rituals and festivals. 

Lar/Guardian= Delta/Gamma Plus that assists in rituals. They wear white togas with sashes that represent their rank. 

Salii= They are Beta Neutrals who dress as the gods to tell stories. They only do this in a religious theater. 

Alewife/Cup-bearer= Alewife is a female Gamma Minus that makes and sells beer and wine with the Church’s approval. Cup-bearer is a male Gamma Minus that serves beer and wine to religious officials and honored guests.

[storymakerdraconians]

The Legend of Lupenimus Albinus

The Lupenimus Albinus is a majestic quadruped creature, with a robust and muscular body reminiscent of a colossal wolf. Its fur is pure white, similar to freshly fallen snow, providing it with a natural camouflage ability in snowy environments. This coat is not only visually impressive but also incredibly thick, protecting it from the extreme cold of its natural habitat.

The most distinctive feature of the Lupenimus is its mane, which extends from the top of its head to the base of its tail. This mane consists of long, stiff fur spikes that can bristle in moments of danger or when the creature wishes to intimidate predators or rivals. Each fur spike seems to glisten in the light, giving the impression that the creature is enveloped in an aura of celestial light.

The eyes of the Lupenimus are large and milky white, with a slight luminescence that gives them an ethereal, almost supernatural appearance. They possess extraordinary vision, allowing them to see clearly in both broad daylight and the darkness of night.

Anatomy and Structure:

Head: The head of the Lupenimus is elongated and aerodynamic, with pointed ears that constantly move, capturing sounds from all angles. Its snout is tapered, housing a set of sharp teeth that indicate its carnivorous nature.

Paws: The paws of the Lupenimus are powerful and end in sharp, durable claws, capable of climbing icy surfaces and gripping prey with deadly efficiency. The pads of its paws are thick, helping to absorb impact while it runs over rough and icy terrain.

Tail: The tail of the Lupenimus is long and covered with the same spiky fur as its mane. It acts like a rudder, helping the creature maintain balance as it moves swiftly through its environment.

Behavior:

The Lupenimus Albinus is a solitary creature, known for its intelligence and strategic hunting skills. Despite its intimidating appearance, it has a reserved temperament, avoiding unnecessary confrontations and preferring to remain unnoticed in its environment.

When hunting, the Lupenimus uses its camouflage abilities to silently approach its prey, striking with surprising speed. Its typical prey includes enchanted deer, magical rabbits, and other creatures of mystical forests.

Mystical Abilities:

White Camouflage: Can blend perfectly with snowy environments, becoming practically invisible.

Northern Howl: A deep howl that can freeze the heart of its enemies, inducing paralyzing fear.

Ethereal Luminescence: Its eyes can emit a soft light, allowing it to illuminate dark areas or disorient adversaries.

Protruding Spikes: Its spiky mane can be used as an active defense, bristling and launching spikes toward aggressors.

Habitat and Ecology:

The Lupenimus primarily inhabits snowy forests and icy plains. It is a creature adapted to extreme cold and prefers territories where snow covers the ground for most of the year. Its migratory routes follow seasonal changes, moving to higher regions during summer and returning to the low snowy plains in winter.

Legend and Mythology:

In local cultures, the Lupenimus is seen as the guardian of winter forests. It is said to be a protective spirit that guides lost travelers to safety, though few are fortunate enough to witness its presence. Ancient tales speak of its ability to communicate telepathically with those who show respect for nature, offering advice or warnings about imminent dangers.

In the distant realms of Eldoria, where the frosty winds of the North swept across the vast, enchanted forests, the Lupenimus Albinus was a creature of legend. The tale of its origin was whispered by the old sages and sung by minstrels, each version wrapped in mystery and magic.

Centuries ago, when Eldoria was young, the Great Winter threatened to blanket the world in eternal ice. The sun hid behind shrouds of grey clouds, and life struggled under the relentless cold. In these desperate times, the wise seeress, Eira, sought guidance from the celestial spirits, pleading for aid to save the realm from this icy doom.

It is said that on the eve of the Winter Solstice, Eira stood atop the Frostspire Peak, invoking the spirits with her ancient chants. The winds answered her call, swirling in a majestic dance, and from this ethereal storm, the Lupenimus Albinus emerged—a creature born of frost and starlight.

The Lupenimus was unlike any beast the world had ever seen. Towering above even the mightiest stallion, its white fur shimmered like snow under the moon, and its eyes glowed with an otherworldly luminescence. It was both majestic and fearsome, a guardian forged from the very essence of winter.

With the creature's arrival, the tides of the Great Winter began to turn. The Lupenimus, with its profound connection to the cold, roamed the lands, restoring balance to the elements. Where it trod, the icy grip of winter weakened, and life began to bloom once more. The creature’s presence was both a beacon of hope and a reminder of nature's untamed power.

As centuries passed, the Lupenimus Albinus faded into myth, rarely seen by human eyes, yet its legacy lived on. In the snowy forests of Eldoria, villagers spoke of a great beast that roamed the lands, a spectral guardian watching over the balance of life. Hunters whispered tales of its eyes, glowing like twin moons in the dark, guiding lost souls to safety.

The people revered the Lupenimus as the "White Spirit of the North," a divine protector. Many believed that those who earned the creature's trust could communicate with it telepathically, receiving cryptic guidance and warnings of impending dangers.

But despite its benevolent nature, the Lupenimus remained a solitary figure, ever watchful yet distant, preferring the solitude of the snow-clad wilderness. It was said that only the pure of heart might glimpse the Lupenimus in its full glory, a fleeting moment of awe and reverence.

In modern Eldoria, the legend endures, a tale of courage, balance, and the enduring spirit of nature. The Lupenimus Albinus, though elusive, remains a symbol of hope and harmony, its origins rooted deep in the heart of Eldoria's winter tales. As the winds of the North continue to blow, the legend of the Lupenimus lives on—a reminder that even in the darkest cold, a light shines eternal.

In the heart of the frosty North, where the winds whispered secrets of ancient times, the Lupenimus Albinus roamed alone. The creature, a solitary guardian of the enchanted forests, traversed the snow-laden paths, its presence both ethereal and awe-inspiring.

As the first light of dawn broke through the thick canopy of evergreens, the Lupenimus moved silently through the undergrowth. Its massive paws left delicate impressions on the pristine snow, each step purposeful and deliberate. The forest was its domain, a vast expanse of icy beauty that stretched beyond the horizon.

The Lupenimus lifted its head, inhaling deeply. The crisp air carried the scents of the forest, tales of creatures that had passed through the night. A rustle here, a distant call there—each sound painted a picture of the vibrant life hidden beneath the snow's blanket. It was a master of its realm, attuned to every subtle change in the environment.

Despite its solitary nature, the Lupenimus was not lonely. It found solace in the rhythm of the wilderness, a symphony of whispers and echoes that resonated through the trees. The creature was a silent protector, a guardian ensuring the balance of life in these mystical woods.

On this particular day, the Lupenimus was in search of something unknown, driven by an ancient instinct that urged it forward. It moved with grace, its snowy coat blending seamlessly with the winter landscape. As it walked, its mind wandered to memories of long-forgotten times, tales of its origin and purpose whispered by the winds themselves.

The forest held secrets that only the Lupenimus could understand. It paused by a frozen stream, gazing into the crystalline waters beneath the ice. Here, it saw reflections of the past—a time when Eldoria faced the Great Winter, and the Lupenimus emerged as a beacon of hope.

The creature's journey was one of exploration, not just of the physical world but of the essence of its existence. The forest, ever-changing and eternal, mirrored the creature's own solitude and resilience. As it moved deeper into the heart of the woods, the Lupenimus followed trails known only to it, paths forged by centuries of wandering.

Occasionally, the Lupenimus would stop, ears twitching, sensing a presence or sound. It listened intently, attuned to the voices of the forest. The rustling leaves and creaking branches told stories of harmony and balance, of life thriving even amidst the cold.

Nightfall approached, casting a silver glow over the snowy landscape. The Lupenimus continued its journey, undeterred by the darkness. Its eyes, glowing softly with an ethereal light, pierced the shadows, guiding it through the moonlit forest.

As the stars appeared overhead, the Lupenimus found a clearing where it could rest. It lay down, nestled in the soft snow, watching as the sky transformed into a tapestry of shimmering constellations. Here, in this tranquil solitude, the Lupenimus felt a connection to the cosmos, a reminder of its purpose as the guardian of Eldoria's enchanted forests.

The creature closed its eyes, drifting into a peaceful slumber, dreams of ancient winters and future journeys mingling in its mind. And as the night embraced the forest, the Lupenimus Albinus remained ever-watchful, a sentinel of nature's harmony, its legacy woven into the very fabric of the world it called home.

As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows through the dense forest, the Lupenimus Albinus wandered alone, its senses attuned to the rhythm of the natural world. The creature's every step was silent and deliberate, its snowy coat blending seamlessly with the winter landscape.

Suddenly, a brilliant flash of light split the sky, a bolt of lightning striking a nearby tree with a deafening crack. The Lupenimus flinched, feeling the electric charge ripple through the air. As the thunder rumbled away, it caught an unfamiliar scent drifting through the cold breeze. The scent was strange, earthy, and alluring, compelling the creature to lower its head and inhale deeply, its powerful nostrils flaring.

Intrigued, the Lupenimus began to follow the scent trail, weaving through the trees with agile grace. Its keen senses were heightened, each breath drawing it closer to the source of this enigmatic smell. It was unlike anything the creature had encountered before, sparking a sense of curiosity and wonder within its ancient heart.

The forest gradually thinned, giving way to open fields where the scent grew stronger. As the Lupenimus approached the edge of the woods, it paused, peering through the underbrush. There, sprawling before it, lay a vast farm, its paddocks filled with equines of all sizes and colors.

The air was alive with the sounds of the farm—the gentle snorting of mares, the bold whinnies of stallions, and the rhythmic pounding of hooves against the earth. The Lupenimus remained hidden among the trees, its sharp eyes observing the equines as they grazed and frolicked in the paddocks.

The sight was mesmerizing. The stallions pranced with pride, their muscular forms glistening in the waning sunlight, while the mares grazed peacefully, their ears flicking attentively. The Lupenimus watched with a mixture of fascination and caution, captivated by the sheer vitality of these creatures.

It was clear that the equines were well cared for, their coats glossy and their spirits lively. The farm bustled with life, a stark contrast to the solitary existence of the Lupenimus in the secluded forest. Yet, despite its intrigue, the creature remained cautious, aware of its own role as a guardian of the wild.

As the day turned to dusk, the Lupenimus retreated deeper into the shadows, ever watchful and silent. It pondered the significance of this new discovery, the scent that had drawn it from its woodland realm now etched into its memory. The equines were a marvel of nature, a testament to the harmony that could exist between the untamed and the cultivated.

Though tempted to linger, the Lupenimus knew it must return to the forest, its true home. With a final glance at the farm, the creature turned away, slipping back into the cover of the trees. The scent of the equines lingered in its nostrils, a reminder of the unknown wonders that lay beyond its familiar world.

As it ventured back into the heart of the forest, the Lupenimus carried with it the knowledge of the equine farm—a place where life thrived under the watchful eyes of both man and beast. And though it remained a solitary guardian of the wild, the encounter left an indelible mark on the creature's ancient soul, a testament to the endless mysteries of the natural world.

Hidden in the shadows of the forest's edge, the Lupenimus Albinus remained vigilant, its powerful body concealed beneath the thick undergrowth. Its sharp eyes, designed for hunting in the wild, zoomed in on the equines that roamed the paddocks of the nearby farm. Curiosity consumed the creature, its mind racing with questions about these animals it had never encountered before.

As the Lupenimus watched, a bead of saliva formed at the corner of its mouth, glistening in the fading light as it slipped from between its razor-sharp fangs. The scent of the equines hung heavily in the air, a strange yet tantalizing aroma that stirred an unfamiliar longing within the ancient guardian.

[marshfeldman31]

Thorgar Axebinder

In the dense, mist-shrouded depths of the Darkwood Forest, amongst the ancient oaks and whispering pines, there stands a figure of lore and legend—Thorgar Axebinder, the warrior goblin of yore. His tale is one woven through the ages, told in hushed tones around crackling campfires and inscribed in the tomes of the learned.

Born beneath the Blood Moon to the clan of Ironsnout, Thorgar was marked from the beginning by the old seeress to be a goblin not of common cloth but of a destiny as hard and sharp as the iron they mined. As a whelp, he was swifter, keener, and more cunning than his peers, often leading them into the heart of the forest to explore the ruins of civilizations long forgotten.

His prowess in battle was evident from his first skirmish when he turned a bandit ambush into a rout, wielding nothing but a rusted hatchet. The hatchet, his first trophy, was bound to his hand by leather thongs, earning him the name Axebinder. With time, the hatchet was replaced by a fearsome axe, forged in dragonfire and cooled in the tears of a banshee—his trusted companion through countless battles.

Thorgar's legend grew, not just for his might in battle but for his unexpected wisdom. Unlike his kin, who were quick to ransack and retreat into the night, Thorgar sought to build a bastion for his people—a stronghold where the goblin song could rise, free from the fear of elven arrows or human swords.

The scars that line his visage are a map of his life's trials, from the jagged line across his cheek from a dwarven axe to the burn upon his brow from a sorcerer's flame. His eyes, a piercing amber, have beheld the fall of heroes and monsters alike. His armor, cobbled from the remains of his foes, serves as a testament to his resilience and his unyielding spirit.

Now, in the twilight of his years, Thorgar Axebinder stands not as a raider of the shadows but as a guardian of his kin. His story is not of a beast lurking in the dark but of a warrior who turned the tide for his people, a goblin who became a legend.

[forgottenroisin]

NAME METAS

ok so i looked up the girls name meanings the other day before work, and then i had a bunch of pricing so basically i just ruminated on it all day!! lskdjfkalsdjf

ok so this is basically my thesis:

forgottenroisin rosie, any time someone brings this up: our parents named us each smth that evokes love! bc, when you dissect what our names each really mean, they all boil down to smth beautiful: hope, faith, life, and wonder! ;D

EITHNE: kernel/grain, little fire = HOPE

forgotteneithne: #eithne's name meaning grain#is so on point bc i think even when she WASN'T the person cooking for the whole house#she very much wanted to norish and care for everyone#i love this sm <3

ok so!! eithne!! when you think about it -- what is a kernel? it's a seed. its life, but potential life. w hat is grain? its food. its nourishment. eithne is, thus, in her person potential that nourishes, provides, sustains! she isn't just the next lady of malconaire, she ~is malconaire, and she's everything it needs!!! a kernel is a whole map of life, its everything that is required to grow and to flourish: all it needs is the soil of malconaire, and a little rain.

and little fire? what is that? brilliance, brightness, a light to see by, but smth to galvanize as well, smth to guide, to keep you warm! to comfort but also to inspire! but not enough to harm: this isn't some destructive force, its heat and passion without fury or cruelty!

brought together, what concept does these two ideas jointly embody? hope! and if that doesn't fit our eithne!! just as kate was saying!! she literally puts food in their bellies, looking out for those around her, keeping them strong, helping them move forward when they're too tired to keep fighting! providing warmth and nourishment!! our girl embodies hope <33333

BRIGIT: exulted one = FAITH

ok so how much do i looooove the irony that, to valentina and cassimir, brigit is the most despised of the siblings...and yet she's the exulted one!!!!! lksdjfalksjdf ok so, like, this one is working on a couple levels for our girl! first, she's of noble birth, second, she's a seer. but both of those also play into this pull/push irony she's got going on: she's a conquered noble. she's a hunted seer. the very things that seek to tear her down are what set her apart. plus, there's the whole angle that she's honored by the guardians with the sight, itself!

ok, so what is exultation, when you break it down? its honor, right, but its belief, also! its this unwavering belief in smth higher, brighter, better, and we already know what brigit is at heart: she's a rebel! another irony instrinsic to her naming, bc rebels don't tend to receive exultation, yet its this v indomitable spirit that is her crowning glory: she won't be turned away. she'll fight on! and its ~that unyielding spirit that is exultant and to be exulted in her!

she's faith. something to believe in, but something too that believes. she doesn't blink. she looks hardship in the face and she charges forward for the good of others. there's also the seeress angle: both literal, religious faith, but also solidity and complete certainty that things can and will be better if you've just got enough faith in it to fight for what you believe in!

AOIFE: beauty, to breathe/to live = LIFE

forgottenaoife: #i think aoife probably is like... my name's meaning doesn't really reflect me that much#but honestly like the idea that its just to breathe and to live#which is really all she wants to do#is perfect <3 margueritedemarigny: you know rosie out here preaching abt the simple yet sublime beauty of life itself as embodied by aoife <3333333

lskdafjklsdfj so i already showed my hand here w the above but that's just the crux of it! in a lot of ways, aoife is the most beautiful of the sisters: pure and good and kind. she doesn't draw attention to herself, she lets her actions speak for her. she breathes. she lives, blooming like a winter rose beneath a bed of ice: stronger than the others bc she doesn't demand attention. she simply is and, in this way, is perhaps most genuine. most beautiful.

but aoife is also the most caged. most controlled. she's trapped by her quietude -- valentina taking advantage of her kindess -- but she's freed by it as well -- in turn taking advantge of valentina's blindness. bc of these qualities, aoife is able to do what none of her sisters can do, while remaining perhaps the most clear-sighted of them all.

as kate said, all aoife really wants is to live and to breathe. but she doesn't believe in her own beauty, or in the beauty of that simple, pure wish. i already summed it up in rosie's quote, but i'll leave you with a simple question: what could be more beautiful than to simply be? to live, to breathe? and who, then, more beautiful than one whose only wish is for the purity of those things?

ROISIN: little rose, little famous kind = WONDER

ok so we all know rosie gets lost in the wonder of life, right, but how do we get there from roses and fame? don't worry, i got you, and the answer is simple: nature! lksadjflksdjfjk all of astaira, but perhaps house malconaire most of all, has a reverence -- a wonder -- for the natural world. roses are perhaps the most famous of all blossoms. in fact, the word rose -- when you look into it -- doesn't actually mean red or even that particular flower we call such: it means, more or less, famous one, and thus the flower was dubbed. the famed beauty of nature, literally blooming with meaning. rosie's name isn't just floral, its growing, blooming, and inviting of awe. quite wonderful, right? ;D

no, but now that we've discussed the rose, lets talk about the famous kind, without the rose! rosie's wants are pr soaring. rosie wants love and joy and excitement. she wants romance and adventure and escape. but she also wants an idyll -- she loves to explore, to question, to consider: she's a malconaire, she can't help but be a little down to earth, but she's also imaginative and even a little irrational. she wants the big, bombastic things -- she even soemtimes thinks itd be grand to be a princess! literal fame! tbh idk that she'd enjoy the actuality of that, but the idea seems nice, esp bc -- and here is where i relate fame to reputation -- it'd allow her to finally stick it to her stepmother! fame is leaping and vaunting and GRAND in scale, and so are rosie's dreams!

bringing these concepts together -- high-vaunting ideas with extraordinary beauty, what are you left with but the theme of wonder? rosie's greatest virtue, and biggest downfall, yet the thing that best characterizes the way she looks at the world and experiences life! to dream big, to appreciate the breathtaking world around you for all that it is and all that it can be, what is that but wonder?

CONCLUSION

in conclusion -- idk if their parents intended these meanings, but if you ask rosie they def did!!!! this is 100% her belief <33333 ngl i do think its partially a way to feel close to them too now that they're gone -- 'they knew us so intimately from birth they named us this way knowing this would happen and knowing what will happen in future so in a way they're still w us' almost kinda thing <3

OOC | Malconaire Names

ok so now that we've got the parents named, i went on a lil [ name meaning ] spree and looked up all our kids! and i love how these all like...fit but in an unexpected way!!

Macdara -- son of oak

Sorcha -- radiant/bright, lady/princess/noblewoman, clear/bright/famous

Eithne — kernel, grain/little fire

Brigit — exulted one

Aoife — beauty/to breathe, to live

Roisin — little rose/little famous type/kind

while im at it...imma hit up the ~vasilieva!malconaires, too!

Valentina -- strong/vigorous/healthy/fertile

Cassimir -- DESTROYER OF WORLDS lkdfjksdaljfjld...anyyyywayyyy (literally it means 'to destroy peace/the world')

Sonya -- little wisdom/little lover of knowledge

i was gonna do a lil chatting/meta abt how this fits rosie but im too laskdjflksdjfkdsf about cassimir's name!!!! valentina whatre you doing alksjdfkljsdf i know she dreamed of having a son her whole life so there's no way she didn't know what his name meant and alksdjflkjsdkfjlsdf ngl i always assumed he was named for some famous king they're like ~vaguely related to or smth like that, but still like alkjsdflkjdsjkfjkdsf OMGGGGGG OBLITERATOR OF PEACE -- its legit like naming ur kid 'ruiner' like someone put this innocent newborn she'd carried for nine months in her arms and she was like 'THIS is the only name for him' laksdjfkljdsjfjkdsf kernal/grain/little fire that's basically like naming ur kid 'hope' like....

HOPE x RUINER = NOTP for her w/ valentina truly be like 'yknow the kid in this pairing whose parents really messed them up???? EITHNE' kaljsdfkljdjslfjkdsf SCREAM

rosie's meta's gonna have to wait...god, i really shoulda put this on @forgottenvalentina -- i didn't knowwwwww until it was too late alksjdfklsdjf

[finalfantasyandnerdiness]

The Story of Caius Ballad

Once a seeress receives her first vision, the Guardian will take her away from the tribe and leave civilization behind. From that moment on, taking care of her is his responsibility. No one will hear her prophecies but him, and no matter what she sees, neither of them will try to change history.

She’s rarely older than six when he takes her under his wing.

She’s rarely older than sixteen when he watches her die.

A retelling of Final Fantasy XIII-2 from Caius Ballad’s point of view, taken from a small essay that analyzes his role in the game and whether or not he can be considered an anti-villain. The full analysis: https://bit.ly/3LJa2Ck

The tale of the seeress is as old as humanity itself. Etro, the goddess of death, gave the first human ever created the gift of reincarnation. That gift, however, came with a ruthless side effect. The human–a girl who was always given the name Yeul–was reborn with the ability to see the future, and whenever she had a vision, her lifespan grew shorter. Because of Etro’s blessing, no incarnation of this girl ever reached adulthood. 

The seeresses were protected by Guardians—warriors from the Farseer tribe, turned into l’Cie to make sure they fulfilled their duty. Since there could only be one Guardian at a time, a challenger for the role had to kill the present one to take their place. The last warrior to ever become a Guardian was Caius. 

Like every Guardian before him, Caius protected the seeresses by using his powers as a l’Cie. He was the most powerful warrior in the tribe—but one day, that still wasn’t enough. The Farseers were attacked by enemies, and to protect Yeul, he chose to perform an incarnate summon—a skill that allowed him to become one with his Eidolon at the cost of his own life. Etro, touched by his selflessness and dedication, decided to bestow a blessing on him. When Caius awoke, he was no longer a l’Cie. Etro had infused her own heart into his body, providing him with unfathomable power and the gift of immortality. He would now be able to protect every incarnation of Yeul, from her first vision to her last, forever.

This marks the beginning of the story about Caius Ballad, the immortal Guardian who killed the goddess of death and broke time and fate itself in order to save one single soul.

*

Wherever there’s a Yeul, there’s always war and unrest. She’s hated, she’s feared, and there’s always people who want to abuse her and her gift. Caius can protect her from physical threats, but he can’t stop her suffering. She’s just a child, after all—a lonely child, shunned by those who should have loved her the most. To fulfill his role as a Guardian, Caius is forced to learn a skill that warriors are never taught: How to comfort a crying young girl.

The Farseer laws state that altering the future is forbidden, but there are always people who don’t follow the rules. After one of Yeul’s prophecies causes enough disorder to spark a civil war among the Farseers, a new tradition is born. Once a seeress receives her first vision, the Guardian will take her away from the tribe and leave civilization behind. From that moment on, taking care of her is his responsibility. No one will hear her prophecies but him, and no matter what she sees, neither of them will try to change history.

She’s rarely older than six when he takes her under his wing.

She’s rarely older than sixteen when he watches her die.

*

Whenever the future changes, Yeul receives a vision. The most fatal ones are caused by life-altering changes in the timeline—and more often than not, the culprit behind those changes is the goddess herself. The humans affected by her interventions call them miracles. They have no idea that the cost of those “miracles” is the life of a young girl.

*

Though the incarnations of Yeul all look the same, they all have different personalities. They’re more than just seeresses—they’re individual beings, all unique in their own way. Even as Caius’s own heart grows darker, he never stops protecting these girls—and he never stops mourning them.

Over and over, the cycle repeats itself. Even at her youngest, Yeul always knows what awaits them both at the end of their journey. She will die, and he will live.

*

As a warrior of the Farseer tribe, Caius once worshiped Etro. Never give up, because the goddess Etro watches always, and helps those who help themselves. Just like his peers, he used to think of the goddess’ gifts as blessings. Now, he sees them for what they truly are—curses. The goddess might not think of them as such, but then again, she doesn’t seem to think much at all. Being reborn over and over just to live as an outcast and die before reaching adulthood is not a blessing—and neither is immortality.

*

One day, Cocoon nearly crashes into Pulse. Etro once again decides to use her power to mindlessly change the course of history. She frees six crystalized l’Cie from their stasis, but her act of mercy creates a crack in the veil between the realms. A woman, one of the six, is dragged into Valhalla as chaos seeps into the mortal world, distorting time. Most humans barely notice the changes. Yeul keeps dying.

*

Three years after the fall of Cocoon, Caius and Yeul witness a man and a woman step through their first gate together. It was Yeul’s decision to come to the town called New Bodhum, insisting that she wanted to see the woman from her visions, Serah, in person. Caius doesn’t share her enthusiasm. Considering the number of visions Yeul has had of this woman, she’s bound to be a catalyst of changes in the timeline. Yeul is intrigued by the odd duo, though. The man looks like a Farseer warrior, but no one seems to have taught him the rules about altering history. Serah looks nothing like a woman from the tribe, but she still has the ability to see the future. Their very existence is an anomaly of its own.

By entering the Historia Crux, the two will inevitably create ripples in the timeline. Yeul holds no grudge against them. Caius does.

*

There’s a man, one of the six, who collaborates with the time travelers. He acts according to Noel and Serah’s advice, slowly adjusting the course of mankind to make sure that the “correct” timeline becomes reality. He never follows them on their journeys, though. No matter how hard he tries, the gates won’t open for him. Out of the six, he’s the only one who’s forced to make his way through time the way humans are supposed to. His life is a long, strenuous one-way street—just like Caius’.

*

Two centuries later, Caius finally catches up with the time travelers. The Yeul of this era, just like ones before her, has been plagued with visions of them. Caius has come to understand that he will one day know this man, Noel, but that doesn’t matter. They’ve caused enough death already with their careless changes of the future. Caius has a duty to protect the timeline, to protect Yeul, and they have to be punished for their crimes. It’s the law of the Farseers, and the duty of a Guardian.

The time travelers don’t go down easy, though. Noel is a skilled fighter, and Serah uses magic with the ease of a l’Cie. Monsters appear by their side, following their every command. After an unexpectedly challenging battle, Caius eventually gains the upper hand. He’s just about to give the warrior the punishment he deserves when Yeul tells him to stop. It’s too late, she says. The timeline has already changed. He sheathes his sword and kneels before her. He is her Guardian, her servant, and he follows her command. His battle with the time travelers is far from over, though. They will be punished for their sins.

*

The same Yeul, the same year, asks Caius to let her meet up with the time travelers alone. She says that she trusts them, and that she, too, wants them to find their “correct” timeline. Caius knows what will happen if she helps them, but he is her Guardian, and it’s not his place to stop her.

When he finds her in Augusta Tower, she’s already gone. This time, she was the one who changed history—and just like that, Caius lost another Yeul.

*

The nightmare continues. Every time Caius holds Yeul’s dead body in his arms, a part of him breaks. There’s not much left of him now—just boiling fury, and the knowledge that somehow, someday, he will put an end to all this. His hatred of the goddess has become a part of his very being, just like the cursed heart pounding in his chest.

*

700 years after the fall of Cocoon, Caius meets the final Yeul. The end of humanity is drawing near, and no more children will be born. He once made a promise that he would allow the last Yeul to live a normal life, and now, at the end of all things, he finally gets to see her happy. Everyone in the village knows who she is—what she is—but she still has friends. One of those friends is Noel Kreiss, the boy who will one day cause the death of countless of her earlier incarnations. The boy asks Caius to train him, and he agrees. The puzzle pieces are slowly falling into place. The full picture isn’t quite there yet, but a plan is brewing in the back of his mind. To free Yeul—all incarnations of her—the goddess would have to die. Etro’s heart beats within his chest, but his curse doesn’t allow him to destroy it himself. He already knows how powerful Noel will one day become. Maybe one day, this boy will actually be able to do the one thing Caius cannot do himself.

With Caius’s training, the boy grows into a warrior. He doesn’t understand the old ways, though—he wants the power of a Guardian, but doesn’t want to kill Caius. No matter how many times Caius tries to taunt him into it, Noel refuses to give in. He’s not strong enough. Not yet.

In the end, Caius abandons his original plan. This Noel, the one who has yet to travel space and time, doesn’t have it in him to kill. He is, however, strong enough to protect the final Yeul. On her fifteenth birthday, Caius leaves Yeul in Noel’s care, knowing that the next time he and his protégé meet, it won’t be on friendly terms.

Following the source of the power residing in his chest, he makes his way to Valhalla. It’s time for him to face the goddess himself.

*

In Valhalla, Caius finally figures everything out. He sees the timelines—every single one of them—and he knows what he has to do. He will make sure that the “correct” timeline that Serah and Noel have been chasing will never come to fruition. In a way, he already has. He engineered his own path through time to get to this exact place at this exact moment by creating the paradoxes. Cocoon will fall, and so will the new, manmade replacement, causing enough casualties to force open the gate to Valhalla. That’s when he’ll make sure Noel deals that final blow. That’s when the goddess will finally meet her end. Time and fate will cease to exist, and Yeul’s soul will finally be free. Whatever is left of him when the deed is done will look after her—every version of her—forever.

But first, he has to defeat Etro’s champion—the woman who lost her life in the mortal world when she was sucked into Valhalla, all thanks to one of Etro’s blessings.  

Caius can’t wait for the goddess to die.

*

500 years after the fall of Cocoon, on the day of its final descent, Caius once again faces Noel and Serah. As expected, Noel has gained the strength and skill of a true Guardian. Caius brings them to Valhalla, the place where the finale of his plan has to take place, and their fight continues. Noel defeats him, just like Caius hoped he would, but he stops before dealing the final blow. Just like the boy from the dying village, he refuses to kill.

It doesn’t matter, though. Every piece of Caius’ intricate puzzle has already fallen into place. This is where the goddess dies. This is where his long journey finally ends.

He grabs Noel’s sword and plunges it into his chest.

This is where Yeul’s soul is set free.

[odinsson2021]

Here`s the Playlist of my Tonights Show!

Thank you for listening!!

Stormwitch-Rondo ala Turca-Eye of the Storm-Hot Blood-1989 Stone Fury-Too Late-Let them talk-MCA Records-1986 Sleeze Beez-Heroes die young-Screwed Blued & Tattooed-Atlantic Records-1990 Soul Doctor-Good Time’s slipping away-Systems go wild!-Point Records-2002 Southgang-Russian Roulette-Tainted Angel-Charisma Records-1991 Speedy Gonzales-Shock the Nation-Electric Stalker-Metal Heaven-2006 Spread Eagle-Broken City-Spread Eagle-MCA Records-1990 Smashed Gladys-Legs up-Social Intercourse-Elektra Records-1988 Spitfire-Battlefield-Welcome to Bone City-Rookies&Kings Records-2015 Stan Bush-The 80’s-Dare to Dream Cargo-Records-2020 Steve Plunkett-Every little Word-My Attitude-Koch International Records-1991 Pearls&Flames-Secret Love-Reliance-Pride&Joy Music-07.10.2022 Statetrooper-She got the look-Statetrooper-Ultraprime-1984 Steel Panther-Party like tomorrow is the End of the World-All you can Eat-Steel Panther Open E Music-2014 Oceanhoarse-From Hell to Oblivion-Dead Reckoning-Noble Demon Records-2021 Abattoir-Hammer of the Gods-The only safe Place-Noise International Records-1986 Accept-Wrong is Right-Metal Heart-RCA Records-1985 Edens’s Curse-Jericho-Cardinal-AFM Records-2016 Hammerstar-Hymn of the Viking-Hammerstar-Pure Steel Records-30.09.2022 Eidolon-The Pentacle Star-Coma Nation-Metal Blade Records-2002 Innersiege-Children of Winter-Kingdom of Shadows-Roxx Productions-2012 Stranger Vision-Desolate Sea-Wasteland-Pride&Joy Music-04.11.2022 Lillian Axe-Sign of the Times-Psychoschizophrenia-Music for Nations-1993 Paragon-Dynasty-Force of Destruction-Napalm Records-2012 Rebellion-The Seeress’ Tower-Arminius-Furor Teutonicus-Massacre Records-2012 Blind Guardian-Mr. Sandman (Single)-Virgin Records-1996

[beenovel]

My Fiction Books!

Key:

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🍄 - to be read

🌿 - personal favorite

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I did not include my kindle books, just physical ones

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Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone - J. K. Rowling

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets - J. K. Rowling

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban - J. K. Rowling

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - J. K. Rowling

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix - J. K. Rowling

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince - J. K. Rowling

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - J. K. Rowling

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Spinning Silver - Naomi Novik

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A Thousand Pieces of You - Claudia Gray

Ten Thousand Skies Above You - Claudia Gray

A Million Worlds With You - Claudia Gray

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The Selection - Kiera Cass

The Elite - Kiera Cass

The Heir - Kiera Cass

The Crown - Kiera Cass

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Akata Witch - Nnedi Okorafor

Akata Warrior - Nnedi Okorafor 🍄

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Mortal Arts - Anna Lee Huber

A Study in Death - Anna Lee Huber

As Death Draws Near - Anna Lee Huber

A Brush With Death - Anna Lee Huber

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Magyk Angie Sage 🌿

Flyte - Angie Sage 🍄

Physik - Angie Sage 🍄

Queste - Angie Sage 🍄

Syren - Angie Sage 🍄

Darke - Angie Sage 🍄

Fyre - Angie Sage 🍄

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In Grandma’s Attic - Arleta Richardson 🌿

More Stories from Grandma’s Attic - Arleta Richardson

Still More Stories from Grandma’s Attic - Arleta Richardson

Treasures from Grandma - Arleta Richardson

Sixteen and Away From Home - Arleta Richardson

Eighteen and On Her Own - Arleta Richardson

Nineteen and Wedding Bells Ahead - Arleta Richardson

At Home In North Branch - Arleta Richardson

New Faces, New Friends - Arleta Richardson

Stories from the Growing Years - Arleta Richardson

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Seven Black Diamonds - Melissa Marr

One Blood Ruby - Melissa Marr

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Seraphina - Rachel Hartman 🍄

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Ogre Enchanted - Gail Carson Levine 🍄

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Bloodlust and Bonnets - Emily McGovern

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Wonder Woman, Warbringer - Leigh Bardugo

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Shadow and Bone - Leigh Bardugo 🍄

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The Girl Who Drank the Moon - Kelly Barnhill

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The Tail of Emily Windsnap - Liz Kessler

Emily Windsnap and the Land of the Midnight Sun - Liz Kessler

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The Name Of This Book is Secret - Pseudonymous Bosch

If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late - Pseudonymous Bosch

This Book Is Not Good For You - Pseudonymous Bosch

This Isn’t What It Looks Like - Pseudonymous Bosch

You Have To Stop This - Pseudonymous Bosch

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The Sisters Grimm - Michael Buckley

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Loki’s Wolves - K. L. Armstrong & Melissa Marr

Odin’s Ravens - K. L. Armstrong & Melissa Marr

Thor’s Serpents - K. L. Armstrong & Melissa Marr

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The Glass Spare - Lauren DeStefano 🌿

The Cursed Sea - Lauren DeStefano

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Legacy - Cayla Kluver

Sacrifice - Cayla Kluver

Allegiance - Cayla Kluver

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Assassin’s Heart - Sarah Ahiers

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The Daughter of the Pirate King - Lauren Levenseller

The Daughter of the Siren Queen - Lauren Levenseller

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Stalking Jack the Ripper - Kerri Maniscalco

Hunting Prince Dracula - Kerri Maniscalco 🍄

Escaping From Houdini - Kerri Maniscalco 🍄

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The Bone Witch - Rin Chupeco

The Heart Forger - Rin Chupeco

The Shadow Glass - Rin Chupeco

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Inkheart - Cornelia Funke 🌿

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The Wrath and the Dawn - Renée Adieh 🌿

The Rose and the Dagger - Renée Adieh

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Flame in the Mist - Renée Adieh

Smoke in the Sun - Renée Adieh

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My Lady Jane - Cynthia Hand, Brodi Ashton, Jodi Meadows

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My Plain Jane - Cynthia Hand, Brodi Ashton, Jodi Meadows 🍄

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Shadow Run - Adrianne Strickland & Michael Miller

Shadow Call - Adrianne Strickland & Michael Miller

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Grave Mercy - Robin LaFevers 🌿

Dark Triumph - Robin LaFevers

Mortal Heart - Robin LaFevers

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Westmark - Lloyd Alexander

The Kestral - Lloyd Alexander

The Beggar King - Lloyd Alexander

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The Frog Princess - E. D. Baker 🌿

Dragon’s Breath - E. D. Baker

Once Upon a Curse - E. D. Baker

No Place for Magic - E. D. Baker

The Frog Princess Returns - E. D. Baker

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The Wide-Awake Princess - E. D. Baker

Unlocking the Spell - E. D. Baker

Princess Between Worlds - E. D. Baker

The Princess and the Pearl - E. D. Baker

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Royals - Rachel Hawkins

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Twilight - Stephenie Meyer

New Moon - Stephenie Meyer

Breaking Dawn - Stephenie Meyer

Eclipse - Stephenie Meyer

The short second life of Bree Tanner - Stephenie Meyer

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The Starless Sea - Erin Morgenstern 🌿

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Since You’ve Been Gone - Morgan Matson 🌿

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Save the Date - Morgan Matson

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The Case of the Missing Moonstone - Jordan Stratford

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The Ten Thousand Doors of January - Alix E. Harrow 🍄

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ACID - Emma Pass

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Labrinth Lost - Zoraida Córdova 🍄

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Battle Mage - Peter A. Flannery 🍄

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Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen

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Frankenstein - Mary Shelley

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Midnight in Austenland - Shannon Hale

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Murder on the Orient Express - Agatha Christie 🌿

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And Then There Were None - Agatha Christie 🌿

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The Girl Who Chased the Moon - Sarah Addison Allen 🌿

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Garden Spells - Sarah Addison Allen 🍄

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The Peach Keeper - Sarah Addison Allen 🍄

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Lost Lake - Sarah Addison Allen 🍄

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A Discovery of Witches - Deborah Harkness 🌿

Shadow of Night - Deborah Harkness

The Book of Life - Deborah Harkness

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Theft of Swords - Michael J. Sullivan 🍄

Rise of Empire - Michael J. Sullivan 🍄

Heir of Novron - Michael J. Sullivan 🍄

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Alpha Centauri - Robert Siegel

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Rebel of the Sands - Alwyn Hamilton 🌿

Traitor to the Trone - Alwyn Hamilton 🍄

Hero at the Fall - Alwyn Hamilton 🍄

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Starflight - Melissa Landers

Starfall - Melissa Landers

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Polgara the Sorceress - David & Leigh Eddings 🌿

Guardian of the West - David Eddings 🍄

Sorceress of Darshiva - David Eddings 🍄

The Seeress of Kell - David Eddings 🍄

Demon Lord of Karanda - David Eddings 🍄

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The Gilded Wolves - Roshani Chokshi 🍄

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The Star-Touched Queen - Roshani Chokshi 🍄

A Crown of Wishes - Roshani Chokshi 🍄

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The Love That Split the World - Emily Henry

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The Forbidden Wish - Jessica Khoury

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Tales of the Kingdom - David and Karen Mains

Tales of the Resistance - David and Karen Mains

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Just Another Sweetheart Deal - Pat Brady

Rose Is Rose - Pat Brady

High-Spirited Rose Is Rose - Pat Brady

Rose Is Rose Right On the Lips - Pat Brady

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Baby Island - Carol Ryrie Brink 🌿

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King of the Dollhouse - Patricia Clapp 🌿

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The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - Robert Louis Stevenson 🍄

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Photo Finish - Ngaio Marsh 🌿

Died in the Wool - Ngaio Marsh 🍄

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The Humans - Matt Haig 🌿

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Tags: @messiambrandybuck @gremlinfaemess @dat-pan-dwarf @thewhiteladyofrohan @lady-latte @idle-thyme @lothloriien @kumqu4t @claraofthepen

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[starwrote]

* genshin impact muses.

CANDACE // SUMERU - AARU VILLAGE GUARDIAN. 21+ demi w/ fem lean. hydro vision w/ polearm and shield. seeress capable of utilitzing visions of both past and future tenses.

ALBEDO // MONDSTAT ALCHEMIST. 18+ demi. geo vision and sythetic being created by rhinedottir of the hexenzirkel. sword and solar alchemy.

YOIMIYA // NAGONAHARA FIREWORKS. 18+ bi. pyro vision with a bow & mixed martial arts. the biggest heart of inazuma, also known as the red aranara.

MONA MEGISTUS // ASTROLOGIST. 18+ demi. hydromancer and prodigy of a hexenzirkel mage. hydro vision with astrolabe catalyst. frequent column writer and scry artist.

TIGHNARI // SUMERU HERBOLOGY. 18+ demi, male lean. dendro ranger and protector of the sumeran forrests. lone vulpes. highly skilled academic scholar.

KANE // NATLAN ASSASSIN OC. 18+ demi. pyro cult leading anti-hero that works via contracts amongst the dead sea. sword user, dagger speciality. abyss interest.

* honkai impact & star rail muses.

SUSHANG // XIANZHOU LUOFU. 18+ bi. physical damage hailing from the hunt. renowned cloudknight and sword summoner. primarily within honkai impact due to power level interest, but capable of star rail origin story.

GEPARD // JARILO-VI, BELOBOG. 21+ bi. ice damage with a very large weapon which appears to be a guitar case or gun case (dependent). guard capatain of the silvermane faction. summons massive ice walls and shields allies. (has a genshin verse where gepard is grand acting prince of fontaine.)

[damn-anotherangel]

Woodsreign Academy for the Magical Arts

This is a fan-made North American (includes Mexico and Canada) school for witches and wizards in the Harry Potter Universe. The school is situated on the western edge of the Rocky Mountains somewhere near the California/Oregon border, but it's exact location is shrouded in mystery. Desiring a more accessible school than Hogwarts for the Americas, yet understandably built on similar tenants, and using the school's tried-and-true framework as a foundation, master magicians with the help of the country's medicine men and women, along with the latent wild magic that abounds in the deepest spaces of the forest, created Woodsreign Academy for the Magical Arts. The four founding Classes were introduced thusly:

The Den of Heathersedge, to whom wit and intelligence knows no equal in importance. Intelligence in practice, an ability to respond quickly, and ambition are all words to live by for any sly fox that finds home in this den. Those in this esteemed class are accomplished duelists, inventors and out-of-the-box thinkers. Nobody outfoxes a witch or wizard with a Heathersedge glint in their eye.

The Grove of Willowshade, the most insatiably curious of the classes, housed those who were not one to simply sit and read themself into wisdom, they'd always endeavored to gain wisdom through experience. Those with a burning curiosity would always find a way to gain the knowledge they seek, with little regard to their own safety in the seeking will have many stories to tell around his fire. For though curiosity killed the cat, as they say, he has eight more lives to spare.

The Pack of Silvermark, to whom the Old Ways clung fiercely. Silvermark believed in familial loyalty, willingness to fight for noble causes, and magical heritage. Whether by historical connection or blood connection, a connection with the past was one the student believed to be paramount. Though, they would be willing to add, many of the strongest familial bonds are those that one forged themselves. Any young witch or wizard willing to fight for the family they were born into or the wolfpack they found will always have a place.

And finally, the Pool of Rapidshore, fierce mountains of personality who live by the belief that anybody is worth protecting regardless of usefulness or (lack of) motivation would shine in this Class. Those who are selfless and whose power backs their convictions be they healing or defending will find a home, for no matter their stature, anyone may have the steadfast heart of a bear.

When they  finished building the school, surrounded by the massive forests of the Great West, the Founders: the wizards, the druids, the Medicine Men, and indigenous Seeresses called to the spirits of the wilds, an offer for shelter and an opportunity to teach young minds by example. Their spirits, upon agreement, would hold the school together and protect the beings within and in the immediate surroundings from any harm.

They called spirits venerated from every continental civilization. Rabbits coyotes, bears, buffalo, snakes, owls, cats wolves and dogs were just some of many animal spirits that answered the call to become guardian totems to the school.  The coyotes and foxes played pranks on each other, spiders wove potential futures in their webs,  the snakes occupied the potions and alchemy classrooms, and horses and wolves roamed the surrounding forests and fields. The Class system was designed to evolve over time, adding more classes for the endless unique students looking for camaraderie or individuality as needs demanded, and so other sub-classes like the rabbit-spirit's Cloverdale for those simple, tight-knit friendships, or the gator-spirit's Cypressglade for those who sought a more intense mystery.

The agreement was that as long as these totem spirits agreed with and wished to help the school continue to exist, they would do so. if one no longer wanted to remain at the school, it may leave, and another spirit could answer the call to replace it. If the totems at large felt the school no longer merited defending or support, they could abandon it and the school would fall to the wilds.  Throwback Thursday to when I made an American school before JKR made Ilvermorny. I like mine better, anyway. https://www.facebook.com/notes/3156053261170276/

[hysterialevi]

Hjarta | Chapter 2

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

A WHILE LATER

BJORNHEIMR, THE TEMPLE

Walking underneath the white sun, Eivor worked his way around the village as he scanned the surrounding buildings, keeping an eye out for Randvi’s bright head of hair. Roughly half an hour had passed ever since Thora first approached him on the hill asking for his assistance, but he had yet to catch a glimpse of his younger sister anywhere.

According to some of the people Eivor had spoken to, Randvi was last seen heading towards the town’s temple. She was accompanying the local seeress on an “urgent matter,” and apparently hadn’t returned since. Eivor didn’t have a clue as to what Ingrida could’ve needed help with on a day like this, but nonetheless, it was the only lead he had. And so, he took it.

Pushing himself up the steep incline that led to the temple’s archway, Eivor slowly ascended a dirt path decorated with ceremonial bones and charms, causing a soft chime to rattle in his ears as they swayed gently in the wind.

His boots dug deeply into the many layers of snow blanketing over the path, and with every step he took on his short journey, a sharp crunch emitted from his feet, alerting nearby hares and birds.

Up ahead, Eivor saw a majestic line of wooden statues standing proudly in front of the temple’s lake, towering over its still waters like a row of guardians. Piles of snow had gathered on their heads and shoulders as a result of the frostbitten weather, and in the bowls that lay at their feet, Eivor saw a handful of fresh offerings left by some of the locals.

The main thing that caught his attention however, was a toppled statue of Freya lying motionlessly in the snow. The base of its structure had broken somehow, and now, it was garnering the care of their seeress, as well as Randvi herself.

Eivor stopped briefly in his tracks, feeling a sense of relief. 

“There you are.” He whispered under his breath.

Approaching them from behind, Eivor hurriedly made his way to Randvi as the two women covertly bickered with each other, speaking in a hushed manner. At first, he simply assumed they were trying to figure out how to get the statue back on its feet, but once he got closer, their conversation suggested otherwise.

“....You’re not listening to me,” Ingrida insisted. “It’s a sign! We must not ignore it.”

Randvi crossed her arms in disagreement, attempting temper the seeress’ fear. “I understand that, Ingrida, but there isn’t much we can do about it now. What’s done is done.”

“You must cancel the wedding,” the older woman reiterated. “The gods have made it clear that this joining will ensue nothing but chaos!”

“A king is coming to our shores at our invitation, Ingrida. To turn Styrbjorn away would be a grave insult to him and his clan. We have no choice but to go through with this.”

Still, the seeress was unconvinced. “An insult holds little weight in the face of death. The arrival of the Raven Clan will bring naught but misery and conflict. The gods have shown this to me.”

Eivor stepped in the middle of their altercation, trying to get a grasp of what was going on.

“Randvi,” he called out, earning a glance from the woman. “What’s going on? Why haven’t you joined father at the docks yet?”

She sighed in frustration. “I apologize for the delay, Eivor, but Ingrida is concerned about the nature of this wedding, and nothing I say seems to ease her nerves.”

Eivor turned to the seeress, curious to hear her side. “What troubles you, Ingrida? You look perturbed.”

The elderly woman scoffed. “Perturbed is an understatement, young man. Last night, the gods visited me in my dreams, and showed me visions of things to come. They were not good.”

“What did you see?”

Ingrida took a moment to recall her memories. “...There was a man. He appeared human in my dream, yet carried a monstrous nature to him. His eyes burned bright with the heat of Muspelheim itself, and his hair was so red that, at first, I mistook it for fire. There was a strange mark etched into the flesh on his neck, and one of his arms had been severed clean off. Lurking behind him, I saw a white wolf whose snout was stained by the redness of his blood.”

It didn’t take long for Eivor to make the connection. “You dreamt of Tyr?”

The seeress seemed unsure. “Perhaps... but I did not get the impression that this man was a god. He seemed too earthly. Too... familiar. That’s not the part that frightens me, though. What worries me is, when I awoke, the statue of Freya had fallen to the ground, despite the fact that it was still standing mere moments ago.”

Eivor shrugged. “I fail to see what’s so alarming about that.”

Ingrida gestured to the statue. “Use your head, Eivor! Freya is the goddess of love. Her collapse -- paired with my vision -- signifies what this marriage will bring. War.”

“How could this marriage bring war? The whole purpose of this joining is to forge an alliance between the Bear and Raven Clans.”

“I’m aware. But our plans do not always match what the gods have in mind.”

Randvi tried to defuse the situation. “Have faith in our jarl, Ingrida. I know these are frightening times, but our father is simply trying to eradicate Kjotve’s people from our waters for good. We would have killed him ourselves long ago, but we alone do not have the strength necessary to do that. We need Styrbjorn and his people.”

“What we need is to avoid more bloodshed. We have had enough.”

The seeress sighed in annoyance, deciding to put an end to this argument. It was clear that her message wasn’t getting through to the other members of the clan, and despite what she may have believed, she couldn’t deny that Randvi had a point. 

Ingrida may have been skeptical about the outcome of this wedding, but Styrbjorn was already on his way. His entire clan was accompanying him to Bjornheimr’s shores, and there wasn’t much she could do about that now.

“...Alright, you two.” Ingrida finally said. “I can see that this is going nowhere. If your father believes this is the best way forward... then I suppose it is not my place to defy him.”

The young woman beamed at her. “Do not fear, seeress. Everything will be alright.”

“I certainly hope so. Our people have suffered enough at the hands of Kjotve and his men. I pray that this joining will put an end to that.”

Randvi nodded in agreement. “As do I.”

Eivor smirked humorously at his sister. “Well, it’s never going to happen if you don’t make haste to the docks.”

The woman chuckled. “Alright, alright. I’ll be on my way soon. Just...” Randvi took a breath, “...give me a moment.”

Her brother grinned. “Nervous, are we?”

Randvi gave him a friendly shove. “Yes, and you are not helping.”

Eivor smiled at her. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. Father wouldn’t promise you to this man if he thought he couldn’t be trusted. You know him.”

The woman remained somewhat anxious. “I know he would never do anything to put me in harm’s way. I’m just... nervous about what the future holds. What if my husband and I don’t get along? What if we’re miserable together? What if this only brews more animosity between our clans?”

“All the better,” Eivor replied. “You’ll fit right in with the rest of Norway’s royalty.”

Randvi let out a laugh at that. “You certainly know how to make light of any situation, don’t you?”

Eivor leaned against a tree, crossing his arms in a jesting way. “It’s my blessing and my curse.”

Ingrida rested her hands on her hips. “More often a curse, I would say.”

Randvi rolled her eyes in a playful manner, finally deciding to return to her duties.

“Alright,” she said with a troubled sigh. “I’ll go find father at the docks now. He’s probably wondering where I am. I’ll see you and Thora at the feast this evening. Try to keep things orderly, will you?”

Eivor nodded reassuringly. “Of course.”

“Good. Father’s counting on us to make a good impression. I trust you won’t scare anyone off before the feast starts?”

“Now that, I can’t promise.”

Randvi snickered in amusement and threw a casual grin at Eivor before taking her leave from the temple, following the trail of dented snow that her brother left behind. The sun was nearing the center of the sky at this point in the day, and if Eivor squinted hardly enough, he could’ve sworn he saw the miniature silhouettes of distant ship sails billowing on the horizon. 

The Raven Clan had arrived.

“Ingrida?” Eivor said, continuing his talk with the seeress. “Can I ask you something?”

The old woman took a seat on a nearby bench, placing herself in front of the statues.

“Of course, young cub. What’s on your mind?”

Eivor strolled towards Ingrida’s position, keeping his eyes nailed on Freya’s fallen figure as he put his thoughts into words.

“Do you truly think this wedding will bring more chaos to our clan?”

The seeress shook her head in uncertainty. “I cannot speak in absolutes, for I do not know what the gods are thinking. All I can tell you is that this marriage sparks a sense of worry in me... and it stems from the man in my dreams.”

Eivor sat beside Ingrida. “Is there anything I can do to tame your fear?”

A warm smile radiated on the woman’s face. “You are kind, but I suspect that this situation is now in the hands of the Nornir. If they wish to lead us into battle, then it would be pointless to cower behind our shields.”

The young man recalled a conversation he had with the seeress many years ago, bringing up one of her own quotes.

“Ingrida, do you remember what you said to me? After my parents were killed, and Arngeir took me in?”

She shook her head, staying silent in response.

“We are all bound by the threads of fate,” Eivor reminded her. “Any attempt to deviate from the path--”

“--will simply be met with what was always destined to be.” Ingrida finished. “Yes, I remember now. And it seems that I would do well to follow my own wisdom.”

The woman chuckled softly, gazing at Eivor with a motherly twinkle in her aged eyes. “You have grown into a fine young man, Eivor. It seems that your mind is as sharp as your axe. Varin would be proud of you. I know Arngeir certainly is.”

“...Thank you, seeress.”

Ingrida rose from her seat, ready to head back inside. “Well, I should return to my duties. We have a busy day ahead of us, and this statue isn’t going to stand up on its own. I’ll see if I can find my son. Perhaps he could help me.”

Eivor mirrored her actions and removed himself from the bench, offering assistance. “I can help you now, if you’d like.”

The woman raised a hand of refusal. “No, no. It’s alright. I’ve occupied enough of your time. You just focus on tending to your own family, and seeing that the Raven Clan receives the welcome they deserve. In the meantime, I will stay here, and do what I can to prepare the temple before King Styrbjorn arrives. It’s possible he will want to make an offering before the wedding.”

“Very well,” Eivor said, making his way through the temple’s arch. “I will speak with you later, then.”

“Farewell, Eivor.” Ingrida replied. “May you carry Odin’s favor.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

THE DOCKS

Rushing down to the harbor, Randvi weaved her way through Bjornheimr’s crowds and hurried to join her father as the Raven Clan steadily approached the docks, drawing everyone’s attention.

By now, there was a canopy of clouds hovering in the sky, slowly inching its way across the ocean’s vast length as it passed through an array of sunbeams.

Meanwhile, underneath them, an impressive collection of longships glided over the sea’s rolling waves, causing spurts of white mist to spray in their wake as they crashed into the tides.

It was an armada fit for a king, Randvi thought. Even though she had never made contact with the Raven Clan before, it was clear that they carried a strong sense of pride and honor with them, similar to the one that her own clan held.

It made her wonder if, perhaps, it wouldn’t be such a difficult task to bring their people together, after all. For many days now, Randvi had spend most of her nights twisting and turning in bed with the worry of causing more trouble like Ingrida suggested, but after seeing the Raven Clan face-to-face, it managed to put some of her fears to rest.

Her heart still hammered with the nervousness of meeting her future spouse, but the anxiety in her chest was no longer as debilitating as before. 

Freya willing, it would stay that way.

Finally reaching the harbor, Randvi came to a halt when she spotted Arngeir waiting by the edge of the pier, standing quietly as his fur cloak danced wildly in the breeze.

Arngeir Hallbjornson was a tall man clad in fierce armor that broadened his already stocky build, causing him to stand out from the clan like a walking giant. Most of his visage was hidden behind a grizzled beard and mane that had been twisted into multiple braids, and the parts of his face that remained uncovered were creased with years of experience.

Despite the boldness that his presence carried however, Arngeir did not wield an intimidating temperament as others might have expected. Instead, his pragmatic nature only enhanced the fatherly spirit in him, and a firm sense of nobility stood proudly in his eyes. 

A certain kindness radiated from his stern expression, but due to the plethora of burdens that came with being a jarl, there was also a rougher edge to him like thorns on a rose. 

He was no stranger to the idea of mercy, but he wasn’t able to engage with it as often as he wished.

“Father!” Randvi exclaimed, taking her position beside the man.

Arngeir turned around at the sound of her voice, slouching his shoulders in relief.

“Randvi. There you are. I thought you weren’t going to show up.”

The woman replied with a humorous response. “I wasn’t. But then Eivor found me.”

A chuckle escaped her father’s lips. “I understand if you’re hesitant to go through with this wedding, but trust me. Everything will be fine. Sigurd is a good man. I believe he will be a worthy husband.”

“He’s also a prince,” Randvi added, “which means someday I’ll be...”

“...his queen. A daunting task, indeed, but I have faith that you will live up to the challenge.” Arngeir rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Do not fear, Randvi. You are ready for this.”

“I hope so. I’m just worried about the future of our marriage. What if Sigurd and I don’t go well together? What if this turns out to be a disaster?”

Arngeir gave her a reassuring smile. “These thoughts you’re experiencing are quite normal for someone in your situation. Fear is a natural part of change, and marriage can be a life-altering event. But as I said before -- I would not have chosen Sigurd if I did not think he was suitable to be your husband. Even though this wedding is for the good of our clan, I also want to ensure that you are happy as well.”

Randvi took a deep breath, attempting to conceal how much she was shaking. 

“I suppose I won’t know for sure until I meet him myself.”

“Exactly.” Arngeir paused for a moment, suddenly realizing that King Styrbjorn had reached the dock. “But enough of that. The Raven Clan is here. Keep your head high, and do your best to stay calm. The gods are watching over us.”

Turning away from his daughter, the jarl swiftly approached the opposite end of the pier with open arms as Styrbjorn stepped off the longship, eager to return to the feeling of solid ground beneath his feet.

He appeared to be a man of great stature and etiquette just based on the elegancy of his demeanor, but it was no secret to Randvi that he had seen his fair share of battles throughout the years. 

There were many faint scars hiding beneath the surface of his weathered skin, and even though Styrbjorn spent most of his time occupying a throne these days, his hands remained hardened with the callouses of a soldier, implying that the hilt of an axe once sat in his palm.

Though, as age would decree, the muscles that once sharpened his physique had softened over time, and the shaved hair sitting atop his head had been washed with silver. The lids of his eyes hung slightly low with with a tinge of fatigue, and sitting between his brows, Randvi saw the wrinkles of a serious man embedded into his skin.

“King Styrbjorn!” Arngeir called out in a convivial tone. “Welcome to Bjornheimr!”

The older man returned his smile, beaming brightly as he adjusted to the land beneath his boots.

“Arngeir Jarl!” Styrbjorn said boisterously. “Now there’s a face that I haven’t seen nearly enough of.” He pulled Arngeir into a tight embrace, greeting the man with a warm hug. “You look well, my friend. It is a blessing to see you safe in times like these.”

The jarl welcomed the gesture, immediately picking up on the smell of sea salt. “And you, my lord. I trust you had a safe journey from Fornburg?”

Styrbjorn nodded, separating the hug. “We did. Njord graced us with calm waters and strong winds today. We were also lucky enough to avoid Kjotve’s men during the voyage. I’m glad to say our journey was rather uneventful. Though, I fear it may have been too uneventful for my son’s liking.”

Arngeir chuckled. “A warrior’s heart beats inside his chest, just like yours.”

“Indeed,” the king joked, “and it will be the death of me someday.”

Styrbjorn diverted his gaze to the woman at Arngeir’s side, instantly realizing who she was.

“Ah, and you must be Randvi.”

The young viking bowed her head politely, admittedly unsure of how to address Styrbjorn.

“...Yes,” she answered. “I-It’s an honor to meet you, my lord.”

Styrbjorn gently took Randvi’s hand into his grasp, shaking it in an affable manner. “The honor is mine, my lady. Your father has offered nothing but praise in response to the questions I’ve asked about you. I’m certain you’ll make a fine addition to our family.”

“Thank you,” she said, slightly more relaxed. “You’re too kind.”

An extra pair of footsteps thudded on the pier’s wooden surface, causing Styrbjorn to throw a quick glance over his shoulder.

“Ah, but enough about me. Allow me to introduce you to your betrothed.” He placed a hand on his son’s back, presenting him to Randvi.

“My lady Randvi, I’d like you to meet my son. Sigurd.”

Staring silently at the person in front of her, Randvi was met with a young man clothed in noble attire and light armor, similar to the image she had in mind. His face was embellished with a handful of neatly-drawn tattoos, and in the middle of his forehead stood an unfamiliar rune resembling the shape a tree.

The strange part about Sigurd’s appearance though, was that he happened to match the exact description Ingrida described to Randvi earlier. He wasn’t missing an arm like the man in the seeress’ dream, but everything else seemed to be identical.

A certain type of ferocity enhanced the raw ardor in his icy gaze, and with the sun’s light getting trapped between the strands of his red hair, it almost looked as if his head was surrounded by a ring of fire.

He was certainly a sight to behold, even without the context of Ingrida’s vision. He cradled a peculiar flame inside the breast of his soul, and even though he appeared as human as anyone else in Bjornheimr, Randvi couldn’t help but sense something more otherworldly in his presence.

“H-Hello.” Randvi said, sounding much more nervous than she intended. “I’m pleased to finally meet you.”

Surprisingly, Sigurd shared her timidness. “As am I. I’ve heard much about you, my lady.”

Styrbjorn laughed softly at his son’s quiet response. “Have no fear, Randvi. That shyness will wear off soon enough.”

Arngeir agreed with the sentiment. “The same could be said for my daughter.”

The king began making his way off the pier, growing weary of the ocean’s chilled winds. “Well, I think I’ll go help my clan settle in now. We’re planning to pitch camp in the woods outside of Bjornheimr, but I hope it won’t be a bother if some of my men need to share a roof with your people?”

Arngeir shook his head. “Not at all, my lord. Bjornheimr is open to you. We have plenty of open space in the village should your men require more shelter. You’re free to use it.”

“Thank you, my friend. Your hospitality is appreciated. In the meantime,” Styrbjorn looked at his son, “Sigurd, why don’t you stay here with Randvi? Take some time to get to know her, and the locals as well. In two weeks from now, these people will be our family.”

“Of course, father.”

Arngeir’s face lit up with a look of remembrance. “That reminds me -- my people are preparing a feast to welcome your clan. It should be ready before this evening. Your men are welcome to join us at the longhouse.”

Styrbjorn seemed pleased. “A perfect opportunity to bring our people together. I’ll be there.”

“As will I.” Sigurd promised. 

“Wonderful,” Arngeir said. “I’ll let my oldest know. Her name is Thora. She and a few others will make sure the tables are laden with food. You should introduce yourself to her when you find the opportunity, though I fear she’s not quite as sociable as Randvi. I also have a son who’d like to meet you as well. His name is Eivor.”

Styrbjorn made a mental note of that. “I shall keep that in mind. Until then, let us dig our boots into the soil here, and thank the gods for our safe arrival.”

The jarl joined his king as the two of them ventured deeper into Bjornheimr, ready to tackle the rest of the day. “And may they bless us in the days to come.”

Strolling off into the distance, Arngeir and Styrbjorn returned to their lengthy list of duties as life carried on in the village around them, causing the small crowd that had gathered at the harbor to disperse.

Meanwhile, Sigurd and Randvi stayed behind at the docks, rendered silent by an awkward lack of conversation. Neither of them really knew what to do with themselves from here on out, but in spite of that, the young woman had to admit that she was feeling far more relieved than before.

“So,” Randvi started, “I’m curious. Am I what you expected?”

Sigurd turned his head towards the young woman as he examined her, revealing a strange mark on the side of his neck. 

“Yes, actually. Though, you are a bit taller than I pictured.” An inquisitive expression spread across his face. “...What about me? Did you think I would look like this?”

“No,” Randvi answered honestly. “Not at all. D-Don’t get me wrong, though. I’m not disappointed.”

Sigurd chuckled lightly. “Glad to hear it. I must admit -- I was somewhat nervous before coming here. I had no idea what I would be walking into or what kind of person you would be. So far though, I’m pleasantly surprised.”

The woman found some comfort in his words. “I’m relieved. These past few days have been filled to the brim with stress. It’s good to finally set things in motion.”

“Agreed.”

Randvi gestured to the other areas of the village, beckoning Sigurd to follow her. “Would you... like me to show you around before the feast starts? Bjornheimr has many places to see. I could also introduce you to my siblings, if you like.”

The man smiled cordially. “Of course.”

“Great. Thora should be at the longhouse, but... I’m not sure where Eivor is right now. He was at the temple the last time I saw him, but if we can’t find him, I’m certain he’ll show up at the feast. He’d never miss the opportunity to get a fresh cup of mead.”

Sigurd smirked in amusement. “A man after my own heart.”

Randvi returned the jest. “You might change your mind once you meet him, but I digress. Shall we?”

“Lead on.”

Finally removing himself from the ocean’s vicinity after a long day of traveling, Sigurd stuck to Randvi’s side as she led him away from the bustling harbor, enthusiastic to spend more time with her betrothed.

The two of them had only known each other for a few moments, and yet, Randvi got the impression that Sigurd was far gentler than his exterior suggested him to be. His appearance resembled that of a war-weathered vikingr who knew only stoicism, but his personality seemed to stem from a heart of honor and compassion.

The one thing about him that concerned Randvi so far was how accurate Ingrida’s vision had proven to be. Nothing about Sigurd gave off the impression that he harbored any malicious intent, but that didn’t stop the young woman from wondering if the seeress’ instincts were correct. 

The timing of Freya’s collapse struck Randvi as somewhat odd now that she thought about it, and the fact that Ingrida dreamt about the god of war beforehand did nothing to ease her nerves. 

She had to admit that she was beginning to understand the old woman’s fears surrounding this wedding, but alas, it was too late to back out of it now.

And so, with a quick change of the subject, Randvi brushed off her worries for the time being and simply focused on getting to know her betrothed. She was just as clueless as Ingrida when it came to the events of the near-future, but she figured it would be pointless fretting about it now.

The fires of this alliance were already being stoked, after all, and there was little she could do to snuff it out. She may as well have just drifted off with the waves, and allowed the tides of fate to do their job.