#❬ ✗ —— ❛ ASHES IN HER LUNGS & FIRE IN HER HEART ⁏ relevant. ❭

[dragonsteps-a-blog]

muse  aesthetic.

 repost,  don’t  reblog.  TAGGED BY - @skyvar, awe thank u so much <33 TAGGING - @weapondanced , @pinkestaura , @multlfarlous,  @desclateblue , @dcscrtwind, @fathertofire, @exsanguinationx , @ledtribe, @acontract  && basically everyone who wants to <3

the softest palms that never want to touch you until after a bottle of wine.  ╱ “ just braid your hair if you won’t brush it, at least, you useless girl. ” ╱ pulling on your skirt with one hand as you shuffle away. ╱ “ you’ll get it done before the day is up. ” ╱ guilt that isn’t yours to have. ╱ it’s a crooked game, but it’s the only one in town. ╱ chains. ╱ “ how could you do this to me? ” ╱ the sharp sting of guilt. ╱ you feel something even though you’re paid to do the opposite. ╱ the family you never had. ╱ falling backwards through time. ╱ quicksand. ╱ drowning, but you don’t save yourself. ╱ “ you’re getting better. ” ╱ “ they smile like a snake. ” ╱ you’re the stars and the sky. ╱ there’s a part of you that couldn’t stay away even if you were forced to. ╱ they are your wings, there’s no doubt there. ╱ “ let’s take off somewhere. let’s fly. ” ╱ you edge a bit too close to the sun. ╱another ghost to take your place after every stumble. ╱ deep roots in the ground slashed open in the sun. ╱ rock candy melting in water. ╱ waves rise and leave the foam behind. ╱ the precipice you call home has a tip you’ll reach eventually. ╱ happiness is the best front a man can take. ╱ “ i’ve never seen someone as beautiful as you before. ” ╱  you disagree; they’re more beautiful. ╱discomfort at the tiniest of touches. ╱ the sky opens up when you see them. ╱ rain comes down. ╱ poppy fields. ╱ your sanity hanging by a thread. ╱ “oh god, what have you done? ” ╱ roommates weren’t supposed to be the smartest ones of all. ╱ they’ve got a devil on their shoulder and an angel in their mind. ╱ you try to help, but it only got worse. ╱ now they’re dead, it’s all your fault. ╱ adam & eve in the garden. ╱ a temptress in crisp button-downs. ╱ “ fuck, you’ve gone off the deep end, haven’t you? ” ╱ they lie so perfectly you almost forget yourself. ╱ the spark that lit the kindling on your funeral pyre. ╱ sugar and spice and a taste for the dark side. ╱yes saint laurent ╱ black opium on your pillow, a scented cloud drifting behind you like a cape. ╱ crisp green apples piled up on the table. ╱ your shoes are sharp, but your wit is even sharper. ╱ what a pretty one, they say. ╱ you laugh without humor. ╱ a soft, hollow spot sits in your chest. ╱ there’s a place you’ll never leave no matter who tries to stop you. ╱ the seat of power fits like a glove. ╱ heavy is the head that wears the crown. ╱ you share a space, but not a mind. ╱ they think you are weak; you are, maybe. ╱ “ what are you going to do with all of these pills? ” ╱ an empty bird’s nest. ╱ broken pencil tips. ╱ there’s an empty paper in front of you that you’ll never fill. ╱ “ we want you to succeed. i hope you can grasp that. ” ╱ “ they weren’t there when it happened. ” ╱corruption. ╱ there’s a red string tying you together. ╱ the scent of whiskey on the horizon. ╱ “ you’re the best friend i’ve ever had. ” ╱ pink tipped fingers lock in secrecy. ╱ 99 red balloons drifting through a hazy sky. ╱ you try to lift your head up, but it’s so much effort. ╱ always walking on sunshine. ╱ there’s a million reasons to come down from the clouds, but you can’t be bothered. ╱ hair twisted up with glitter butterfly clips like a haphazard mobile. ╱ you drift, but you know where you’re going. ╱ no one has any dirt on you because you’re infinitely spotless. ╱ the empty side of your bed they crawled into when they were nine. ╱ court hearings. ╱ “ I miss you. ” ╱ siblings are a funny thing. ╱ they point out every family-shaped hole in every picture on the mantelpiece. ╱ blackbird screaming ╱ wake in nightmares ╱ are you an illusion? ╱ I don’t feel real. ╱ who is in control?

[dragonsteps-blog1]

TAG DUMP #1

[spoiler1001]

Caleb accidentally gets Molly caught in a fireball. [but molly's fire resistant so he's alright pls].

Being fireproof had its advantages. Molly often didn't bother for food to cool. He would walk through fire. He danced with the stuff. He never feared it, just not risking the damage on his clothes. He would rather look good when doing something this badass. 

Caleb did not like fire all too much. It burned. It hurt. It maimed. His own fire never burned him but he always felt the heat. The flames were fueled by the screams of his victims. Caleb almost mourned the fact that he never burned. This fire made him a monster and how long would it take before he burned his new family. 

Trent Ikithon scared him. Caleb Widogast, his heir apparent, his star pupil, the one who won the war was scared of Trent. He had the ability to dig into Caleb's psyche. The time at the asylum left little handholds for Trent to dig into. 

Caleb had no idea until it was too late. Trent just looked over at Caleb and gave him a kind, understanding smile. 

"I know you're a good loyal man, Bren. You have a want to protect your family. Come on. Now you can do just that." Trent's voice was soft, welcoming drawing Caleb in, despite Caleb trying to pull away. 

He couldn't. It was overpowering. His expression went from anger to distressed to being overwhelmed to nothing. His face went slack. He stood up, moving his arms in a spell that was too rigid to be Caleb. His eyes fogged over, like a day old corpse. His skin went pale. His hair went straw like. 

Molly saw this happen. He roared in absolute fury. 

The fireball slammed into him and exploded.

When the smoke cleared, Molly looked around. The others had hidden behind shields. They were safe. Molly turned to face Caleb again, ready to fight. The question was who was he ready to fight. 

Molly stood up, looking at Trent, who seemed to grow younger as Caleb went gray in the complection. Oh. No. No. Molly took a deep breath, taking a step further. 

Caleb prepared the spell again. Molly knew that this was going to hurt, but he would survive this. He had to get to Caleb, get to Trent to stop this. 

Molly got it five steps. The three fireballs hit back to back. His coat burned off. His skin tinged. 

Pain made itself apparent. Molly could fight through it. He needed to. Every step was painful, the air thinned from the heat as ash and dust was kicked up into the air. Molly could see the dust and such stick to his skin with the sweat. He didn't care about any of it.  All that was important was getting to Caleb. 

Molly took his eyes off Caleb for a moment, maybe less. He blinked. 

Caleb had been a near-corpse, with ashen gray skin, black veins framing his face, his blue eyes hidden behind milky gray and white fluid. His skin was pulled taunt against his bones. His pulse was visible with how tight the skin was against the skin. Molly's blood hunter instincts were telling him that this was a monster and an undead thing that had to be killed. Molly's husband instincts told him that this was someone in pain. This was someone who needed to be saved. 

None of that mattered now. None of that was relevant anymore. What Molly saw now was…

The color had returned to Caleb's face. The skin plumped out, and his eyes regained their color. There was also a dagger sticking out of the center of his chest. 

Trent Ikithon looked younger. His hair was jet black with the hints of silver on his temples. His halfway was less obvious, with there now being a whole head of hair. 

Oh. Ok. 

Molly growled and rushed towards Caleb. Caleb was gasping for air, blood soaking his hair and shirt. Blood dripped from the corner off his mouth. Trent Ikithon backed away and prepared to teleport himself away. 

"We can fix this. We can-" Molly brushed the hair out of Caleb's eyes, smearing blood into the hair and skin on the forehead. 

Caleb just smiled and slowly shook his head. There was no sound of crows overhead. There was only the sound of Caleb choking. He couldn't speak anymore. Molly could see Trent vanish in the corner of his eye. He didn't care. All he could do was comfort his wizard. Molly's voice cracked as he cradled Caleb. Things became quiet as the last puff of air forced itself out of Caleb's lungs. Still no Ravens. Of course there wouldn't be, Trent had to use something to fuel that kind of spell. Shock and rage pushed back the grief.�� He could think clearly. 

Trent wasn't going to get away with that. Molly lifted his head to the sky and released the fury in his heart with a scream. His infernal magic was infused with pure hatred. His voice gave out. Caleb's heat was slowly dissipating. 

Molly's eyes glowed and looked at the general place where Trent teleported away from them.

The rest of the group caught up with Molly. Jester and Beau jumped at the sight. Jester and Beau grabbed Caleb from Molly. Molly stumbled to his feet, still covered in Caleb's blood. Molly stuck his hand outwards and the area that Trent had used to teleport started to glow bright red. 

Trent Ikithon was pulled from the teleportation spell and was floating in the air. Blood poured from every orifice in his head. All the pride that was normally plastered over his face was gone. He was scared, vulnerable. He was screaming. Good. 

Molly clenched his fist and the screaming stopped. The fear gave way to nothingness. Ravens cawed. Molly dropped the disappointment that was an archmage. 

"FUCK!" Beau screamed. 

Molly turned to face the group. Jester had broken into tears and Beau frowned into her fist. Fjord was holding Jester to his chest. Caduceus was just looking at Molly, eyes unreadable. Yasha looked at Molly as well, but with sadness in her eyes. 

Molly numbly walked up to them. 

They closed Caleb's eyes. He almost looked peaceful. Molly dropped to his knees. 

"Rest well, Firefly." 

[legendofthematriarch]

Prologue

A vampire gentleman of some repute in his own corner of the world was napping comfortably in his puffy chair. Where in this world was he? Indeterminate as far as he was concerned, likely somewhere in Europe considering the accents he was surrounded by. He had one of his own but it had been a couple centuries since his homeland was relevant to his own interests. Where in time was he? Also irrelevant, his style was gathered from the local evening markets. There were some pretty frills and puffy sleeves which he found more comfortable than he originally expected. Last he checked it was somewhere in the 1800's but once more, he stopped bothering to keep track. He was of the old blood, one of several dozen bloodlines that dates back a thousand years, perhaps even two. His face contorted into that of a bat when the call of the blood demanded him to feed himself, or perhaps at times when he just felt like it. The world suited him just fine, and some decades ago he had essentially retired to a special cliffside estate. 

A marvel of an estate it was, built inside a mountain that was originally commissioned to have the recent invention that was steam powered locomotives, later to be dubbed as trains, to fly through the mountain in a winding path. This idea was shot down and shelved, but the local vampire hierarchy still scammed the officials out of the funding needed to make such a plan happen and replaced it with their own; a Grand, multilayered hotel of a thing. The eventual structure was borrowed from their fellow vampiric neighbors in Mexico. Now, this particular vampire in question was hired on to deal with the money involved in such a coup, and was just given a room and office as he managed to filter their crimes through the ages, though in this case he had only been employed for a couple of decades. They kept him comfortable due to his importance, as he was dubbed ‘the money man’. As time went on, it became an absolute nexus of vampire kind. A bastion of trade, pleasure, and influence. It would go on to house hundreds within its walls, and the hallways became busier than a festival in New York. Something was wrong, he managed to notice. One of his pets, sheepish and terrified, stammered out an emphasis while pointing at the man’s face. Confused, he reached up and noticed that his glamour spell had faded (he was reaching up in the years, and had to resort to magic to keep his visage applicably young). This was odd, he thought, considering that glamour spells require very little effort and can even maintain beyond sleep. There was also a spot of tinnitus in his ears, something he hadn’t experienced since his turning. Also very odd. He stepped up from his nab and located a nearby mirror. Worthless to him, as his old blood did not allow for a reflection but they still had their uses; that of communication. Indeed, like the fairy tales that even his age are familiar with… mirrors were used as a form of long range contact. He hadn’t bothered learning the art of telepathy, only for a short range across-the-household type of way. He felt the faux-silver lining of the mirror and found that his call went… unanswered. Well, that was irregular. He felt his heart sink, if not beat just a touch, as he heard a frantic shuffling of steps all around him and heightened vocals. It hit him then; The estate had just been mass dispelled. They were under attack.

The sounds and feelings of the attack were like nothing he had heard or felt before. A loud booming, not unlike cannonfire but precise. The foundations shook, and he started hearing the vocals become further frantic yelling. He told his pet to flee and inform others, and she did as he commanded, running off into parts unknown or rather, irrelevant, for this retelling. He ran into the hallways and immediately, the wooden fixtures in the hallways exploded and splintered around behind him. The shards of which, large enough to have impaled and ashed a few of his neighbors. The sight alone shocked him, the mere suddenness of such an explosion. The frantic vocals of the estate had now become outright screaming, and he only took a few steps before the foundations crumbled beneath him, his movement became entirely out of his control and he fell through the floor and landed one floor below, where he managed to regain his composure fairly quickly and delve deeper into the halls. He had recalled the test of naval artillery when it was first being introduced to the French military, but the sounds he was hearing were far too rapid for his understanding. Try as he did, he could not find any proper cannonballs lodged into the walls. The holes were also far too narrow, though certainly large in their own right. 

He yelled out commands and orders, and most of them were related to getting into the undercroft so that all may flee into the relative safety of the inner mountain. He found one of the higher nobles, having retreated to the residential areas to give like minded orders. She recognized this gentleman and quickly approached him. “Do you know what is happening?” “No, no, I was just…” He tried to reply but before they had a chance to blink, a sharp and deafening sound shot through the hall around them. Some form of projectile had just entered her throat, only allowing her a shocked cough before she immediately burned into ash, followed by another explosion that sent her ashed corpse straight into him. It was if some green magic had entered her neck and engulfed her jawline before fading entirely. Madness, he thought, what manner of weapon could kill a vampire so damned quickly? Some kind of chemical, he thought, entered her veins but did not have nearly enough time to act as a poison. She was just shot and then… gone. Her ash had entered his nostrils and lungs at this point, causing some coughing. He tried to regain his composure but the shock of the situation begins setting in while one, overbearing directive enters his mind: Survive.

He fled, through the hallways and towards the stairs. The very floor he stood upon buckled and cracked at various points, causing him to have had to jump across a small gap. He went down a single flight of stairs, and the entire woodworks were crackling. The red and black themed rugs were slipping through said breaks, and he had a moment to look up as others came behind him. The stairs cracked too severely and some fell, but the force of the stairs snapped by and impaled another woman, ashing her immediately. The cries of her followers were seen and heard as they jumped down after this gentleman, and he gave the universal signal to continue onward. He did as well, fleeing through the gothic hallways and trying to make his way towards one of the main lobbies or lounges, the nexus in which the various wings were connected.

He had made it, following the sounds of terrified shrieks but another realization came upon him as a hallway that flanked the direct outside was breached. It was roughly noontime, a point of horror when the cornered roof above them exploded open, leaving the shine of sunlight to unleash its wrath upon several vampiric civilians, killing several instantly in a painful display of fire and seared flesh. Sunlight can be survival for some bloodlines, but some succumb to it within seconds and he was surrounded by very old blood, where the sun holds incredible sway over their lives. He continued on.

He found another hallway to traverse (there were many, after all!) but his advance was blocked by another explosion, trapping dozens. After witnessing another bout of ashing, he found himself in a position of proper investigation. The sunlight was not beaming at the immediate angle that would do him harm, and this allowed him to peer outside to find out what was attacking. He could barely comprehend what he was seeing. A type of ship that was flying on its own, no sails, and had the silver sheen of pure metal. It had mounted guns beneath instead of atop, which he recognized and were horrifically put to use as they let loose upon the crackled hallway where many vampires were trapped by the sheen of sunlight. Most died, but not before he had the abysmal memory of watching limbs fly off from being shot from some kind of enlarged bullet which he had never seen the likes of before. His reflexes and senses allowed him to see the shape of it, but they were still far faster than the rifles he had seen before. 

Horror, madness, murder, was all he could think of. So many of this estate were simple civilians, working for the higher nobles to keep the vampiric hierarchy running. Through the likes of himself and his superiors, they were simply operating to keep the peace with the outside world and to make sure no harm could be done to either side. It was all he could think about, but what could have enticed such a brutal attack. He knew of some of the darker elements that his superiors would get up to, but even then if evidence was mounted then surely justice would have been served? This is nothing but a slaughter, he thought.

He hadn’t the time to dwell on what manner of sorcery or technology that was assaulting them, but that particular route was no longer viable. As he turned back, once again the foundation buckled and cracked, and he was forced once again one floor below. He quickly saw a shattered log fire upon him, and he narrowly avoided the same fate he saw so many others befall. Everything shook at all times, but he was in the position to face the lobby he was seeking, which had access to more points of escape. He ran on through, finally getting what would be at ground level. At least, as ground level as the cliffside allowed, but near one of the several main entrances that at least held the stables and horses. He found a small family, some of which he recognized. There were several, not all related but adopted each other through time and bond. An old blooded vampire matriarch, her face contorted into batlike features not for thirst, but for battle. However, there was no fighting, there was only fear. All their hopes for an escape were quickly annihilated as some of the roofing collapsed in just the way to force sunlight near the front. They could go back, but everything was collapsing around them. They were trapped, and he approached the huddled few to help protect them and give time to think of plans.

Beyond the matriarch, there were two younger men, three women, and two vampiric children, neither could have been older than eight or ten. One of them was fully turned, but the scent of the bloodline was unfamiliar, and the older of them might have been stuck in that youth’s body for some time. They barely spoke at all, as a loud humming engulfed the collapsed nexus. A type of fan perhaps, but far too loud, and the dust of wind and ashes washed over the group as they heard footsteps approach the wreckage of the entrance. Deep, heavy footsteps entered the front door, or what could be considered the remains of a front door. Through the ash that seemed to have been permanently affixed to the air surrounding them all, a pair of glowing red eyes was seen through the veil. They seemed to smoke on their own, a magic he did not recognize without proper study. As the creature approached, he once more could not recognize the technology they wielded. It was a man. Massive, something to the tune of eight feet or so and the broadness to match, that of an incredible warrior. His armor looked like plate or steel, but was layered oddly. It also clicked has he stepped, as well as some lights throughout that were sharp, small, and precise. It was once again like nothing he had ever seen. His eyes drifted towards the massive hammer he wielded in a single hand, easily half of his own height. A special, runed hammerhead that was crackling with some red-orange energy that matched the man’s own eyes. His grin, filled with wickedness and untoward thoughts. His teeth were unnatural as well, pointed in their own way but not like a vampire’s. More of a demonic nature, but he couldn’t tell. All the gentleman could ask was, “What are you…?” The voice of the being was deep, guttural, and coordinated. His words were carefully chosen, if strangely playful, and seemed to originate straight from his deepest bowels, “I am the result of thousands of years of your kinds baaaaad decisions..” Then, he lifted his hammer to bring it down and… there was nothing at all.

[westmeathlibrary]

Need some inspiration for our #wmreads2018 prompt #2? Here are a few biographies that might be of interest : 

The diary of a young girl by Anne Frank Check the library : https://goo.gl/EiW76v Download the ebook : https://goo.gl/JE57L5 Today, The Diary of a Young Girl has sold over 25 million copies world-wide. It is one of the most celebrated and enduring books of the last century and it remains a deeply admired testament to the indestructible nature of human spirit. Anne Frank and her family fled the horrors of Nazi occupation by hiding in the back of a warehouse in Amsterdam for two years with another family and a German dentist. Aged thirteen when she went into the secret annexe, Anne kept a diary. She movingly revealed how the eight people living under these extraordinary conditions coped with hunger, the daily threat of discovery and death and being cut off from the outside world, as well as petty misunderstandings and the unbearable strain of living like prisoners.

I am Malala by Malala Yousafzai Check the library : https://goo.gl/jf4zd6 When the Taliban took control of the Swat Valley in Pakistan, one girl spoke out. Malala Yousafzai refused to be silenced and fought for her right to an education.  This book  is the remarkable tale of a family uprooted by global terrorism, of the fight for girls' education, of a father who, himself a school owner, championed and encouraged his daughter to write and attend school, and of brave parents who have a fierce love for their daughter in a society that prizes sons.

Angela's Ashes by Frank McCourt Check the library : https://goo.gl/DRGyuH Wearing rags for diapers, begging a pig’s head for Christmas dinner and gathering coal from the roadside to light a fire, Frank endures poverty, near-starvation and the casual cruelty of relatives and neighbors—yet lives to tell his tale with eloquence, exuberance, and remarkable forgiveness. Angela’s Ashes, imbued on every page with Frank McCourt’s astounding humor and compassion, is a glorious book that bears all the marks of a classic.

I know why the caged bird sings by Maya Angelou check the library : https://goo.gl/LWxA6L Sent by their mother to live with their devout, self-sufficient grandmother in a small Southern town, Maya and her brother, Bailey, endure the ache of abandonment and the prejudice of the local "powhitetrash." At eight years old and back at her mother’s side in St. Louis, Maya is attacked by a man many times her age—and has to live with the consequences for a lifetime. Years later, in San Francisco, Maya learns that love for herself, the kindness of others, her own strong spirit, and the ideas of great authors ("I met and fell in love with William Shakespeare") will allow her to be free instead of imprisoned. Poetic and powerful, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings will touch hearts and change minds for as long as people read.

When breath becomes air by Paul Kalanithi check the library : https://goo.gl/yCnqiR download the ebook : https://goo.gl/xbTsiE At the age of thirty-six, on the verge of completing a decade’s training as a neurosurgeon, Paul Kalanithi was diagnosed with inoperable lung cancer. One day he was a doctor treating the dying, the next he was a patient struggling to live. When Breath Becomes Air chronicles Kalanithi’s transformation from a medical student asking what makes a virtuous and meaningful life into a neurosurgeon working in the core of human identity – the brain – and finally into a patient and a new father.

Wild Swans by Jung Chang check the library : https://goo.gl/wT2eYg download the ebook or eaudiobook : https://goo.gl/UFGD5x Through the story of three generations of women in her own family – the grandmother given to the warlord as a concubine, the Communist mother and the daughter herself – Jung Chang reveals the epic history of China's twentieth century. Breathtaking in its scope, unforgettable in its descriptions, this is a masterpiece which is extraordinary in every way.

I was a boy in Belsen by Tomi Reichental check the library : https://goo.gl/RrB2J2 download the ebook : https://goo.gl/JMzj5A Tomi Reichental, who lost 35 members of his family in the Holocaust, gives his account of being imprisoned as a child at Belsen concentration camp. He was nine-years old in October 1944 when he was rounded up by the Gestapo in a shop in Bratislava, Slovakia. Along with 12 other members of his family he was taken to a detention camp where the elusive Nazi War Criminal Alois Brunner had the power of life and death. His story is a story of the past. It is also a story for our times. The Holocaust reminds us of the dangers of racism and intolerance, providing lessons that are relevant today.

A Time To Risk All by Clodagh Finn check the library : https://goo.gl/As9p4o Clodagh Finn has travelled throughout Europe to piece together the story of this remarkable, unknown Irish woman, meeting many of those children Mary Elmes saved. Here, in a book packed with courage, heroism, adventure and tragedy, her story is finally remembered.The children called her ‘Miss Mary’, and they remember her kindness still. She gave them food and shelter and later risked her life to help them escape the convoys bound for Auschwitz.

It's not yet dark by Simon Fitzmaurice check the library : https://goo.gl/r4VSxF In 2008, Simon Fitzmaurice was diagnosed with Motor Neurone Disease (mnd). He was given four years to live. In 2010, in a state of lung-function collapse, Simon knew with crystal clarity that now was not his time to die. Against all prevailing medical opinion, he chose to ventilate in order to stay alive. Here, the young filmmaker, a husband and father of five small children draws us deeply into his inner world. Told in simply expressed and beautifully stark prose - in the vein of such memoirs as Jean-Dominique Bauby's The Diving Bell and the Butterfly - the result is an astonishing journey into a life which, though brutally compromised, is lived more fully and in the moment than most, revealing at its core the power of love its most potent.

Grandpa the sniper : the remarkable story of a 1916 Volunteer by  Frank Shouldice check the library : https://goo.gl/wSfMSj Drawing on prison letters, personal diaries and secret military and police files, Grandpa the Sniper retraces a remarkable journey by a reluctant hero. Part biography, part memoir, it offers readers a rare insight into one of the quiet men who gave their all for Irish freedom.

[ofmsfortune]

the door to her office was open, and for a moment, freya stilled. there were not many who would have the nerve to break in — security was tight and there was not much a thief could get from her office — but as she quietly approached, she noticed how the number pad next to the door was almost mocking her as it blinked green. whoever had decided to stop by uninvited, they had cracked the number combination and this . . . this was something freya had to respect a bit, despite her wariness.

though in a way, this narrowed down the field of intruders considerably. few could have gotten up there without being stopped by her staff, even fewer could have done this  and  cracked the code. no name freya could think about belonged to someone she would want to see after an exhausting day, but she could not ignore her guest either, could she now? that would be bad form, and bad manners were inexcusable for someone of her heritage. 

“ i can hear you think from here, freya, would you mind coming in? ” a far-too-familiar voice drawled, and the blonde cursed under her breath. she had hoped for almost  any  other potential intruder, but her luck was not with her, it seemed.

squaring her shoulders, she took a deep breath and stepped into her office, sharp blue eyes meeting darker ones, ones that blazed in the dim light like traffic lights. of course. auburn  would  be quick enough to evade all staff  and  she knew freya well enough to guess the code, perhaps not right away but . . . eventually. if they were on better terms, freya might have asked how long it had taken the redhead to break into her office, but . . . not like this. and it was not like there was an answer that would be actually not frustrating.

“ i would've thought you could read, ” the blonde said as she pulled back a chair and sat, hands flat on the table between them. “ this area is staff only. ”

auburn's slow smile was infuriating in its exaggerated  innocence  as she shrugged. “ how could i've seen a sign if i took the scenic route? ” she mused aloud, far too much badly hidden amusement in her voice as she mentioned into the general direction of an open window. “ i only opened the door, too, because you made me wait. ”

there was no point in saying that climbing up to a window on the second floor was not okay either and that freya had not made her wait — auburn was pushing her buttons and freya would not grant her the satisfaction of pointing out just how difficult she was being on purpose. the only mercy — and it was a small mercy — was that freya had recently changed the code to the door; knowing auburn, she would have had a field day with the old one — and her entertainment was almost unbearable for the poor soul who had caused it.

although auburn was looking like a shadow of her usual self, like an echo that had become worn out, there was a spark inside of her and it was still real, was still dangerous. once, a broken rib had told the story of what had happened the last time freya had counted her out too soon, but no matter how badly it had healed; it had ceased to be a problem once the blonde had drowned alongside many others when the titanic had sunken.

the older woman was motionless where she sat, a blood-stained marble statue — harsh and cold, a little cracked yet unbroken. once, a long time ago, freya had underestimated her, had fallen for the soft face and the gentle curls. a mistake that had cost them both highly. and though the blood had long dried and then been washed off, her hands felt sticky as they clung to her dress.

she should have seen this coming. ultimately this city  ( like any other city )  was too small for them both, and so, it had been merely a matter of time until one of them would grow tired of waiting for the inevitable and seek the other out. time had run out for freya, it seemed. it was strange how calm she felt, despite knowing that she had never really won when she had played against auburn. no one could win against a woman who would always have the last laugh because for her, the game only ever ended with her standing tall.

there had always been something — otherworldly about the redhead, a ghostly fire that burnt her to ashes from the inside out. others saw this fire, too, and it was why no one else would call her  cold.  they did not see,  could  not see what freya saw: a woman who would compromise her morals a million times over if it meant that she got to keep the shreds of happiness she was holding in bloodied hands.

“ i know about you and dylan. ” the redhead's voice was quiet, which matched her obvious exhaustion, but her calm had never been trustworthy. a lit candle seemed tame, almost docile, but one wrong move and it would still burn down a house.

freya swallowed down the mixture of guilt and amusement that was threatening to choke the air from her lungs. then, she shook her head. “ i really doubt that, ” she said quietly. she knew neither sibling half as well as she should, but she did remember what it had been like to have siblings — brothers — of her own. and she  knew,  in the depths of her heart, that dylan would do many things but that he would never tell his sister about this chapter of his life. she knew because she would not tell claude either, would it be an option.

a thin eyebrow arched gracefully as auburn chuckled gently. “ what makes you say that? ” she asked, almost absentmindedly.

because i know that your brother wouldn't tell you. he would never tell you because he would only disappoint you, freya thought as she fought to maintain a vague smile. she had come as far as she had because people had seen her secretive nature and thought her to be mysterious, but this time, it was difficult to maintain the mask. she knew that though dylan might not ever admit it, he did care a great deal about his sister's opinion, just like auburn would seldom do something that would earn her dylan's disapproval. they were alike, in that way.

“ because i haven't ever known your brother to be someone who'd tell his sister about his involvement with someone who has killed said sister, ” she began and tried very hard to keep her voice airy and casual, all to keep the deeper truths hidden. “ plus, you could snap my spine like a twig so why would i lie to you? ”

this was not the actual reason why freya thought it . . . unwise to lie to auburn  ( despite having done it multiple times already ).  there were many other reasons, but this excuse was almost mean, and freya was good at being mean, good enough, in fact, to make people expect this of her instead of sweetness. the redhead was one of them.

on the other side of the table, auburn scoffed. “ i  do  need dylan to not hate me, ” she replied, her voice deceptively gentle. but there was an edge to it. there was always an edge to it. sometimes, it was difficult to guess what auburn was trying to hint at. but this time, it was obvious. she knew her brother’s feelings, just like she knew freya’s own heart.

or at least: she thought she did. if she actually knew anything of relevance, this conversation would be — very different. but it was . . . strange, freya mused. auburn's idea of what had happened was making her believe that dylan would want to get involved. just as strange: the idea that freya would tell him.

auburn had never struck her like this before, like a hopeless romantic, but looking at the facts, it was hard to deny the possibility that maybe, she was. in all the years they had known each other for, freya had never had to wonder about this, about anything that was not connected to how dangerous the other was. apparently, this had covered up the fact that next to this facet of her personality, there was something softer. not that freya would rely on auburn's kindness.

red hair spilled over pale shoulders like blood over marble as auburn moved, but freya did not flinch. if auburn had come with the intention to shed blood, she would have woken from the dreamless sleep by now. even she could count eleven potential murder weapons within the room, and this was not even considering the weapon auburn was. women like her did not have to rely on poison, they were perfectly lethal in their own right.

“ i never thought you'd be a romantic, ” she said, giving words and purpose to her confusion.

auburn raised an eyebrow and her eyes gleamed. “ underestimating me again? ” she asked. there were too many teeth in her grin, now, and they were all too sharp, too knife-like.

“ a habit i can't seem to kick. ”

at this, auburn laughed, and once more, freya understood why so many people were captivated by her. when she laughed, she seemed softer.  safer.  younger and calmer were two other words that came to mind, though just as they had come, freya pushed them away. contemplating who auburn was as a person was something that had never gotten her anywhere, because whenever she had thought that she had figured her out, she had changed. almost as if it was a game to her. a game she would always win.

other immortals, like freya, like the frustratingly cunning child and even dylan, were static. they were set in their ways, were always a tad predictable. once someone had figured them out, once someone had cracked the code, it was over. being predictable was dangerous, a fact freya knew well, but she could not slip out of her skin and into another, no matter how much she would like to. auburn was not bound to her own rules, much less to anyone else's. it meant freedom, surely, but sometimes, freedom was just another word for not-belonging.

“ and, ” freya continued as she regarded the other warily, “ i'm calling your bluff. you don't know anything substantial. ”

“ a risky gamble, accusing  me  of bluffing, ” the redhead replied, not even losing a shred of her composure. “ i  do  know about the letters you did not send. ”

at this, freya paled, her face turning almost as white as the other woman's. this, this could not be a bluff, because no one put freya knew about the letters she kept tucked away in the safe at her apartment. she had never told anyone about them, had never even sent a single one. 

and if auburn had read them, she would know enough for freya to have little hope to talk her way out of it. sure. she had been mostly vague --- no need to explicitely explain what dylan already knew --- but between the lines, there was still a story. a story that told one version of the truth . . . the version that was centred almost solely on the --- breakup. it was not the version of the story anyone could want a  romantic  to know.

lifting her hand, auburn continued to speak before freya could come up with any lies, with any excuses. dylan was the one she had promised honesty to, lying to his sister was fair game. “ i didn't read any letters, though fay did find them so you may want to talk with her about it, ” she said softly, her voice gentle and genuine. “ i'm here to bring them back. and to say --- i forgive you. i hope you'll forgive me too; i'm tired of the bad blood between us. ”

there were not many things that could stun freya into gasping silence, but this was doing the trick. she had never known the other to be a saint, quite the opposite. she knew the other was a blood-stained, furious mess of intentions that, had they ever been good, never lead to something good. and still, here she was, pulling the rug out from under the blonde by forgiving without having been asked for forgiveness and, instead of vowing bloody revenge, asking for forgiveness in turn. it was mad, it was absurd, it was ---  hopeful.

“ i'll . . . i'll need a moment, ” freya finally managed to say. “ sorry. ”

auburn smiled, almost saintlike. “ take your time, ” she said calmly, “ after all --- it's the one thing we have in spades. ”

[dragonsteps-a-blog]

character  truths,    bold  =  always / often   ;   italic  =  sometimes

1.   smoking:   the  action  or  habit  of  inhaling  and  exhaling  the  smoke  of  tobacco  or  a  drug. 2.   binge  drinking:   the  consumption  of  an  excessive  amount  of  alcohol  in  a  short  period  of  time. 3.   drug  abuse:   the  habitual  taking  of  illegal  drugs. 4.   nail  biting:   a  common  body  language  sign  of  anxiety/tension. 5.   lip  biting:   a  common  body  language  sign  of  anxiety/tension. 6.   night  owl:   a  person  who  is  habitually  active  or  wakeful  at  night. 7.   early  bird:   a  person  who  rises,   arrives,   or  acts  before  the  usual  or  expected  time. 8.   negative  attitudes:   a  philosophy  of  approaching  life  with  criticism &   pessimism. 9. positive  attitudes:   a  philosophy  of  approaching  life  with  optimism   &   confidence. 10.   swearing:   the  use  of  offensive  language. 11.  superstitious:   an  irrational  belief  that  an  object,   action,   or  circumstance  not  logically  related  to  a  course  of  events influences  its  outcome. 12.  inspecting fingernails: a common body language sign of boredom. 13.   scratching  your  neck:   a  common  body  language  sign  of  uncertainty. 14.  foot  and  finger  tapping:   a  common  body  language  sign  of  stress/impatience. 15.   nose  touch:   a  subtle  body  language  sign  of  deceit. 16.   flipping  hair:   a  common  body  language  sign  of  craving  attention. 17.   twirling  hair:   a  common  body  language  sign  of  flirtation. 18.   cracking  knuckles:   a  common  body  language  sign  of  readiness. 19.   hands  behind  back:   a  common  body  language  sign  of  confidence. 20.  finger  pointing:   a  common  body  language  sign  of  authority. 21.   hands  on  hips:   a  common  body  language  sign  of  readiness. 22.   hands  in  pockets:   a  common  body  language  sign  of  mistrust/reluctance. 23.   frequent  touch:   a  common  body  language  sign  of  warmth/familiarity. 24.   throat - clearing:   a  common  body  language  sign  of  rejection/doubt. 25. jaw - clenching:   a  common  body  language  sign  of  hostility. 26.   eye - rolling:   a  common  body  language  sign  of  irritation. 27.   head - tilt:   a  common  body  language  sign  of  interest. 28.   whistling:   to  emit  high - pitched  sound  by  forcing breakthrough  a  small  hole  between  one’s  lips  or  teeth;   usually  to  a  tune. 29.   humming:   make  a  low,   steady  continuous  sound  like  that  of  a  bee;   usually  to  a  tune. 30.   perfectionism:   refusal  to  accept  any  standard  short  of  perfection. 31.   photographic  memory:   the  ability  to  remember  information  or  visual  images  in  great  detail. 32.   paranoia:   a  mental  condition  characterised  by  delusions  of persecution,   unwarranted  jealousy,   or  exaggerated  self - importance,   typically  worked  into  an  organised  system. 33.   exaggeration:   a  statement  that  represents  something  as  better  or  worse  than  it  really  is. 34.   intuitive:   using  or  based  on  what  one  feels  to  be  true  even  without  conscious  reasoning;   instinctive. 35.   quick - witted:   showing  or  characterised  by  an  ability  to  think  or  respond  quickly   &   effectively. 36.   interrupting:   breaking  the  continuity  of  a  conversation  with  one’s  own  statements. 37.   doodling:   to  scribble  or  make  rough  drawings,   absentmindedly. 38.   irritable:   having  or  showing  a  tendency  to  be  easily  annoyed. 39.   gambling:   to  play  games  of  chance  for  money;   bet. 40.   travel - sick:   suffering  from  nausea  caused  by  the  motion  of  a  moving  vehicle,   boat,   or  aircraft. 41.   sensitive:   having  or  displaying  a  quick   &   delicate  appreciation  of  others’  feelings. 42.   melancholy:   a  feeling  of  pensive  sadness,   typically  with  no  obvious  cause. 43.   chewing  gum:   the  exercise  of  chewing  flavoured  gum  which  is  not  intended  for  swallowing. 44.   fidgeting:   to  make  small  movements,   especially  of  the  hands   &   feet,   through  nervousness  or impatience. 45.   sceptical:   not  easily  convinced;   having  doubts  or  reservations. 46.   neat - freak:   compulsively  obsessed  with  cleanliness. 47.   gossiping:   divulging  personal  information  about  others. 48.   prim:   feeling  or  showing  disapproval  of  anything  regarded  as  improper;   stiffly  correct. 49.  abbreviating:   giving  others  nicknames/shortening  names/giving  pet  names. 50.   having  a  catchphrase:   having  a  sentence  or  phrase  typically  associated  with  a  specific  person.

TAGGED BY - @weapondanced , thank u so much<333

TAGGING - @skyvar , @dcscrtwind , @desclateblue , @pinkestaura , @caospotente , @chakrabite , @exsanguinationx & whoever wants to do this, steal it !!

[dragonsteps-a-blog]

is it actually known what happened to her at the end of the series? She got defeated but then?

good that you ask my friend !! & yes it is actually known what happened afterwards… !!!!! SPOILERS AHEAD !!!!! well, to a certain point, at least. so, we all know that after mai & ty lee betrayed azula, her sanity slowly started to fade away & more of her schizophrenic symptoms started to appear ( i.e. hallucinations of her mother, irrational & uncharacteristic behavior such as cutting her own bangs resulting in an imperfect outer appearance ). after being defeated by zuko & her mental breakdown, she was actually put into a mental facility located on an island near the palace. after one year of being monitored, her brother came to visit in order for her to speak with their father in prison. the reasoning behind this was that he wanted to get information from the former firelord as to where their mother resided. 

a lot of things happen after that, azula escapes from the straitjacket she was put in & burns letters that were hidden in a secret chamber within the fire palace. those letters were from her mother & could eventually guide them to where she may reside now. the former fire princess claimed to have read them all already & hid one of them from zuko’s sight, coaxing him eventually into bringing her with him on the journey to find her mother. from there, everything just goes downhill at first because not only does she attack & threaten the members of team avatar countless times, she also behaves recklessly & has hallucinations of her mother due to her psychosis. azula seems to believe that all this time, ursa, her mother, had been scheming against her & manipulated everyone around her in order to betray the maiden & turn against her. upon arriving hira’a, the birthplace of her mother, she has more hallucinations of her with ursa telling azula that she should go back & find her own destiny & that she actually DID love her. 

a wolf spirit appeared & attacked the group later on. as they were being overpowered by moth wasps coughed up by the spirit the maiden asked zuko to free her from the ice she was encased in, due to a angry katara, so she could help, convincing him that she could not possibly make things worse for them & stating that if he could not even trust his own family, there was no one left to be trusted. he melted the ice & azula stayed true to her word. after that, she created a large lightning bolt & shot it away from the group, drawing the light-oriented moth wasps & wolf spirit with it. 

after that, they find out that there is a place called the forgetful valley by two local inhabitants called noriko & noren who happen to have a daughter named kiyi. the forgetful valley is home to many spirits such as the mother of faces who knows every face & every story to it while also granting somebody with a new identity if they want to. however, upon arriving there, they find out that they were not the only ones searching for the mother of faces; two siblings rafa & misu needed the spirit to give misu a new face because it was stolen by koh the face stealer. aang brought the great spirit to them & wanted the wish of the siblings to be granted since they have resided in the forest for more than 20 years, i believe. however, azula stormed between them & quickly asked where her mother was.

turns out that her mother was actually noriko who had given up her whole identity, memory of her children & face to start a new life. azula promptly took off to hira'a with her brother & sokka chasing after her. they broke into noren and noriko’s house & azula was finally able to confront her mother, demanding to know if kiyi was supposed to be her replacement because she was such a monster. after that, she pinned her to a wall & wanted to kill her with one of her blue flames.  she teared up when her amnesiac mother apologized for not loving her enough, but after being separated from her by zuko, she began attacking him. the maiden then asked her brother why he would not allow her to take the throne, saying he would be free of something he did not want, while it would rid her of the nagging of her mother within her head.

upon being told that she was wrong, azula protested, reminding him that he had the opportunity to throw her over the cliff and be rid of both her & the letter. zuko answered that he knew the throne was his destiny and went on to say that no matter how messy their relationship was, she was still his sister.  while crying she burned an opening through a nearby wall & ran outside, dropping the letter in the process. she ran into the forgetful valley & although zuko tried to find her in the weeks before he returned to the capital with his family & friends, azula stayed hidden, which caused him to believe that she did not want to be found.

that was like mostly what happened within the promise trilogy & the search trilogy which are both canon comics you can read online !! after that, she also plays a big role later on in the smoke & shadow trilogy where she kidnaps children to manipulate her brother into a firelord after her beliefs. i would definitely recommend reading the comics on your own because i definitely enjoyed them & loved seeing how human azula can actually be when it comes to her mother in particular. i still hope that i could be of some use in providing information so you kind of get the gist of what had happened to her after the finale 8)