#* ❁ ( lia ) — ⋆ setting off like fire in the wind / main

[aetrnalis]

-- lia parsley tag dump

[wakacreations]

Rolan: Before Being Found

Word Count: 2355

Summary:

Rolan's backstory before meeting Cal and Lia's mother.

Rolan’s life prior to Cal and Lia was not as tragic compared to others but of the typical unwanted tiefling child scenario. He was simply abandoned at an orphanage in Baldur’s Gate a couple of days after taking his first breath. Rolan had to admit he was the lucky few who didn't need to be found then brought to an orphanage. He lived in Baldur’s Gate till the age of five. The orphanage was to be shut down due to a lack of funds. The head of the orphanage sent the children off to other facilities across the Sword Coast that were willing to take them in. Rolan was to be transferred to a troubled youth center in Elturel. Things didn't go as planned as he was loaded onto the cart, the journey brought them to the outskirts of Elturel.

The life at the new orphanage was more hostile compared to his stay at Baldur's Gate. He only had to stay quiet to seem invisible against the roughest of children, now he was the main target. Pushing and shoving were commonplace, things he could tolerate. Tripping and hair pulling to get his attention, he can still bite his tongue. Stealing his clothes and food was something he was used to at his previous orphanage.

Things escalated when beatings first occurred. Later they became daily. Rolan's breaking point was reached when he was beaten badly enough to leave him with a permanent lisp. In that instance, Rolan casts fire bolt for the first time at his attacker, scarring their face. "I knew it! You were a monster with those horns on your head!" he heard over his shoulder as he fled the orphanage. Rolan only lasted there for a year and a half.

He was a six year old tiefling just shy of seven wandering aimlessly down a dirt road that led to Elturel. Nobody questioned the sight of a lone tiefling child. They were commonplace, he had passed by them when he first went into that orphanage. He can walk to the city. It was there on the horizon but why does it not get any bigger? The air was nice and cool from the summer breeze. The sun was slowly setting. Rolan made his way into the underbrush off the side of the road. A small meadow of dandelions came into view. Is this a dream?

Rolan laid among the small yellow flowers. He winced as he sat down on the ground. The grass was cool against his sore muscles. This hurts too much to be a dream? The whistles of the wind filled what would have been empty silence. Would anyone come looking?... Who would even notice he was gone?... Would anyone notice he was gone?... He stared up as the sky watching the warm yellow grew orange then purple. Why did it hurt? Rolan reached out to the stars above. He examined the back of his hand. Yellow, orange and then purple.

He didn’t know why he was crying. The tears just kept falling out like a faucet that was over filling the tub. He didn’t cry when he learned why he was in the orphanage. He did not cry when he was forced to move to the new orphanage. He did not cry when he first started getting beat. He tried to wipe away the tears but they just wouldn’t stop. It hurts to breathe. Rolan’s breath kept stuttering as he tried to gasp for air.

Why him?

Why did everything have to hurt?

“Please,” he softly whimpered.

Rolan didn’t know what he was begging for. Exhaustion was too much as his body slowly shuttered. He tried to curl into a ball but was too sore to move much more, small sniffles escaped him. He hugged his tail close to his chest. The stars twinkled brightly against his wide-eyed empty stare. The sky was a blanket of blue with streaks of silver stars. “No one knows I am here,” he mumbled. Sleep called to him and he answered. 

Found tiefling children were common but reports of a wanted one always created a stir. “Commander Sir!,” a female voice called to attention. “At ease Private Tilses, I have heard of the report. I will be taking care of this task personally,” the man behind the desk rose from his seat. His tall stature is on full display as he handed his Private the report. “The little hellion was already dispatched with and served his time. Do I make myself clear? Private Tilses.” the Commander said with certainty. “Yes, Commander Sir,” as Tilses gave her commanding officer a nod in agreement. “Thank you. I shall be back tomorrow morning. You know where to find me should there be an emergency. Good night Private.” as the door of his office closed shut. 

The rush of the night breeze and the clear skies overhead, today was a beautiful time to ride. The sound of hooves echoed under his boots. The last sighting of the hellion was in the direct path to Elturel. Of all the days to be lost, the boy was lucky. If it were to rain, who knows what state he would be in. “He could not have walked far from the orphanage,” the Commander thought. Painful wails grew near as he made his way to the underbrush. There laid a wide open meadow. Alone laid a boy no older than five covered in large purple bruises, surrounded by yellow dandelions. He let out a breath of relief as the boy was not in any imminent danger.

The little hellion with soft brown hair and warm orange eyes wept and shuddered with every breath. Too innocent, too vulnerable to be alone. “This wasn’t the first time he had come across such a sight. Each time will never get any easier,” The Commander sighed. To be alone at such a young age is too cruel of a fate to be bestowed. He watched the boy sob till all that was left from their small frame were small sniffles. The Hellrider turned to his mount and grabbed the supplies he always carried. With a blanket in hand, he turned to walk towards the boy. The sky had set with a wave of stars overhead.

The Commander took great care in wrapping the hellion in his blue and silver blanket. The boy was already fast asleep, curled up in a little shell. Do what you can to protect yourself little one but life won’t always be so cruel. He lifted the small tiefling and cradled him in his arms. The boy winced as the Hellrider changed arms positions. “My apologies,” he whispered, getting comfortable in the reins. He waited as they stirred in his arms until they found themselves settled. “So, you must be Rolan. You have left quite an impressive impression,” he chuckled to himself. The boy nestled closer to his chest.

The Commander looked up at the stars as he rode. The stars streaked across the sky as if they wished to join them in tandem. “I will bestow you a prayer as I have always done so for the ones in my care. I pray to thee that Helm watches over you. I pray to thee a safe passage to wherever fate has in-store for you. I pray to thee you will find more joy than sorrows, Rolan.” The candles now dimmed, the little hellion is neatly tucked in, and it is time to look forward to the days ahead.

Rolan awoke to the sounds of birds chirping their morning song. He refused to open his eyes but the sunlight on his face made it impossible to get more rest. Everything ached as he moved to sit up. What am I feeling? His eyes remained unfocus as the waking world slowly came into view. Is this a bed? A blanket? Rolan took a sharp inhale. His eyes wildly darted around his surroundings. The room wasn’t anything strange. If anything it seems the most normal a room could be. The room contained everything you could need; a bed, a desk to his side, a bookcase, a wardrobe and a tall mirror. What more could you ask? The room was surprisingly clean too! Rolan went to rub the sleep out of his eyes but paused for a moment. His hand was neatly wrapped and bandaged. Who would do this? Rolan rose out of bed with unsteady legs. I walked too much yesterday. He limped towards the mirror. The reflection looked foreign to him. Was that his face?

A young brown haired tiefling with big puffy black eyes stared back at him all covered in a patchwork of bandages. One to his temple, another on his cheeks and one to his chin. He looked as if he survived torture. With a tentative finger he touched his swollen split lip. Is this really me? From the reflection of the mirror, a note on the desk caught his eye. What have I gotten myself into? Rolan made his way to the desk, tail anxiously flicking about. 

The note read:

Take as much rest as you need. What you find in the wardrobe is yours. Feel free to explore the house. If you are hungry there is breakfast prepared for you on the table. You may help yourself to whatever is in the pantry. 

- Hellrider

All the anxiety that held his frame washed away but fear slowly crept up his spine. “How did he end up in the home of a Hellrider,” he thought. Rolan nervously paced back and forth. Out of all the places to be, a home of a legendary soldier was not one of them. A large growl reverberated from his stomach. Whomever this Hellrider was, they could have been a chef. There laid on the dinner table a feast of a breakfast spread. How can anyone finish all of it!?! On top of a large wooden board laid thinly sliced meats, cheeses and fruits. There were plates of grilled vegetables, and meats. Freshly baked breads and pastries were nestled in small baskets.

Another note read:

Have your fill of food. I hope it is to your liking. Eat slowly to avoid a stomach ache if you can help it. Should you need it there is medicine in the bathroom cupboard. There is plenty of food to go around. You are free to live here so long as you’re willing. I will return at noon to prepare for lunch. If this note were to be the last words you hear from I, you are a tiefling but that is not what you solely are. You are no monster. Allow your emotions to flow, you are a person first and foremost.You are of boundless potential brave hellion. Life won’t always be kind, but there are those willing to offer a kind hand. There is more strength in accepting a hand offered. Take care and trust your instincts.

- Hellrider

P.S.

Should you find yourself in need, you are always welcome to return. Here is the address of this home should you ever be in danger. If you much prefer it, here is the address of a good friend of mine in the city. She is a lovely sweetheart. You would surely love her and she makes the most delicious baked goods. Let her know a Hellrider sent you.

The tears ran down his cheeks without him realizing. For the second time in his life, Rolan wept. His eyes still stung from last night's sobbing but he didn’t care. What good was it to deny what he felt? He ate his food in silence, not even bothering to wipe away the tears. The warm food filled the emptiness in his stomach. When was the last time he ate anything this delicious? “The cookie he stole from the kitchen. That tasted good. Really good,” Rolan giggled. I can’t stay here. “For how kind this Hellrider is, they were too kind,” he sighed. I would only be a burden to them. “They have more lives to save,” as he packed up his backpack from the wardrobe. I promise you, Hellrider. I will make you proud. Rolan patted the letter in his new trouser pocket. The safe refuge now just a small white speck behind him.

He was not surprised when he returned to an empty cottage. The hellions always fled and he did not blame them. It was hard to accept help much less from a stranger. “But still they were too young to be off on their own. They were tieflings of course. They were more resilient than most but still they were just children,” the Hellrider couldn't help the deepening frown. He made his way to the dinner table. “Well the boy must have been truly hungry. That is quite the sight,” a smile played on his lips. Half of all the dishes were eaten. A sheet of paper still laid where the boy must have eaten but the handwriting was not of his own.

Dear Hellrider,

Thank you for taking care of me. You didn't have to but you did it anyways. You are a really nice person and you make delicious food. My name is Rolan and I am six years old almost seven. I am sorry I couldn't stay. I did not mean to be rude and not meet you. I will come back and visit you when I am older. I do not want to be a burden. I am tired of being so weak. I will get stronger and make you proud. I will protect you next time like you protected me. I promise.

- Rolan

P.S.

I took some food from the pantry and the blanket that was on my bed. I am sorry. I promise I will return it next time.

The Hellrider couldn't help but chuckle. “Such a sweet boy. He will grow to be a fine young man,” he carefully folded the letter. If we do meet again young master Rolan let it be when you are surrounded by loved ones. That is a promise and I'll pray to Helm to keep it.

[little-paperboat]

What We Owe To Each Other (2&3)

HELLO ROLAN NATION

I come bearing gifts for the very patient readers and to make amends for my three-months break, namely 7,000 words split into two chapters, a fight, a hug, and lots of emotional rollercoasters.

I am very sad that it took me so long to finish this part of the story, but I am very relieved that it's finally out - I can now focus on the main story and bring more Tav and Rolan into everyone's lives. I'm not too sure when I will be able to post next, maybe in a week or two, but I will let you know. You can follow the tag “series:forbidden fire” here on tumblr to not miss when it comes out! :)

In the meantime, a little sneak peek under the cut, as usual.

It's good to be back :)

Read on AO3 (2 & 3/3)

Read Part 1: Wild Winds Are Death To The Candle (2/2)

Read Part 2: Through Shadows To The Edge Of Night (3/3)

If the sun failed to rise today, Rolan didn’t think he’d care.

It was still dark outside when he woke up from another sleepless night; his body sore and aching, heart barely beating anymore, the overwhelming bitterness of desperation the only tangible proof that he was still alive.

His fingers grazed his cheekbone and he flinched at the pain, a sharp hiss leaving his lips. If Lorroakan kept beating him like this, he’d surrender his last breath before the next tenday.

Another day meant another torment, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to simply take it. To say, yes master, sorry master. To keep up the charade, to pretend that he couldn’t break Lorroakan in two by snapping his fingers. Day after day he felt it: his magic growing, pulsing; yearning to break free and to flood every cell of his body. It would surge and soar, a blinding wave of power that would annihilate everything around him, calling the Weave to his aid so intensely that Mystra herself would have no choice but to command him for it. A part of him feared this— if the dam were to break, he’d be pulled under the tidal wave too and would drown in it, overwhelmed. But a part of him craved it: to tame the storm and to unleash his rage, to ride the high of his wrath and take revenge on the tyrant.

Rolan had never been a violent man. Truth be told, he despised violence: one should know how to behave. To resort to fists was most unbecoming of a wizard and any self-respecting gentleman: if he ever fought, it was out of utmost necessity - to protect his siblings, or himself. He wasn’t too proud to admit that he had had a few altercations back in Elturel, but there had been no other choice. Once to defend Cal from a vengeful human who assaulted him, blaming the Descent on his infernal heritage. And before that, when he had been a child himself with no one to look after him. The memory of brutality he experienced back then had never fully disappeared, even after so many years; faded but never forgotten. Now, it was back in full force, and in him stirred a dark, maddening urge to burn.

He sighed, anxiety tightening his chest, his unsettling thoughts adding to his unrest. Mornings like this, he wondered what was the point of it all; to walk out there, take the spot that he hated so behind the wooden counter to let the world see his shame, for his master wouldn’t let him heal nor conceal. If they ask, you’ll tell them the truth: that you are a careless, worthless apprentice who should learn his place before he can pretend to learn real magic.

The humiliations blended together: fresh bruises replaced the older ones, and the light in his eyes dimmed with every rising sun.

But surely he could endure a little longer.

Just a little longer. For Cal. For Lia. To show them he was brave, to prove to them that he would still make it.

With a groan he got up, taking off his nightclothes with care to not reopen the wounds on his ribs. Despite his pain he refused to give up and kept putting on a set of respectable nightclothes after sunset, out of principle, because it still mattered to him. Whatever was left of his dignity, he had to preserve it.

Yes. He could endure a little longer. If anything, because Tav had asked him to.

Tav.

Annoying, meddlesome, infuriating Tav, who showed up out of the blue to turn his world upside down once again.

Frustrating, vexing, obstinate Tav, who couldn’t take “no” for an answer and bent the rules of the universe to do as she pleased.

He used to think he hated her; now he couldn’t remember why. But maybe it would be better if he still did, for hate was such an easy emotion to feed and such a great outlet for all his sorrows. He could never do that anymore though; not when she was the reason why he was still alive and his family too. Not when she had been so kind while he had been so rough, not when she had made a point to prove him wrong twice. Not when she had planted the seeds of hope back in his heart, to which he held onto with all his strength with a desperation he didn’t know he had.

A few days, at most.

With every sunrise he waited to see her walking back in the shop, fierce and proud, with her signature shit-eating grin and that lovely pout of hers.

Back for him, somehow, to save the world and his sorry self at the same time.

But every sunset dashed his expectations. How long were a few days supposed to be?

— Read the rest on AO3 :)

(c) divider by saradika

[timetrickster]

For the drabbles ask :: Nurse Me & Invite Me w/ my main girl, Mirabelle from my Gold Crown wip ! & you can choose to write both prompts together or separately & w/ whoever you want in your wip ✨ Have fun !

Universe Designation: 625

Location: Basil

It was night time in this seaport town, the sweet smell of saltwater rode on the breezing winds. Justin ran through the darkened alleyways of the town, carrying an unconscious woman. Pale and hair colored deep grey ash. His hands were bloody, as the crimson red liquid was seeping through her clothes. An open wound on the surface of her flesh, opened by a thin blade. His heart racing, having to act fast and quick as the situation turned dire.

“Enoch, teleport me now!” He shouted aloud.

A light envelopes them and teleports them back to the Eternity.

“Enoch prepare the Med-Bay.”

Rushing through the hallways of the enormous ship, the two enter the Med-Bay. Setting her down in a bed, pressing the screen by the side, a flash of light scans her.

“You’ve managed to get her on the ship on time. She’s nearly lost a lot of blood.”

“Prepare the Bio-Printer.”

“I need a sample of her DNA in order to re-stitch her skin.”

Justin places his still wet and bloody red hands on a tray near the wall. It inserts itself into the wall, stepping back to allow Enoch to do her work. Justin cleans himself off, washing his hands of the red liquid. 

“DNA processing complete, beginning procedure.”

A thin pole of light aimed at the wound, slowly beginning to erase the cut like it was a drawing on paper. He took a sigh of relief and pushed himself against the wall then slide down to letting himself fall. 

“Thank God.” He said. “An adventure to a new universe and I’m already saving someone.” He begins to groan out his stress, “Just once, I would like to vacation properly?” 

Looking over toward the girl, he asked Enoch aloud. “Is she gonna be okay?”

“She will, some rest will do her some good.”

“Good.”

“Captain, rest was also a suggestion for you.”

“I’ll stay up for a bit. I have to make sure her shop is okay from those pirates.”

“Well, another endless night for the Time Trickster.”

Justin laughed at his given nickname, “Night, Enoch.”

It was morning now, Mirabelle had woken up from her long sleep. Finding herself in something all too unfamiliar.

“What palace is this?” She said to herself.

Wandering the hallways of lights, shining mirrors, and endless corridors. She found herself on the bridge of the ship, seeing the mysterious stranger that appeared in her shop just yesterday. He was tinkering with tools and weapons unfamiliar to her. Was he a fellow Magician? She wondered. The last she saw he stood his own against three pirates, a hulking earth smasher, a fast fire puncher, and a quick blade water pirate. 

He was okay and not a single scratch on him. She checked her chest from her wound from Quickblade, only to find it perfectly healed. Her thoughts were firing, questioning, wondering, who this, mysterious stranger was. Her first instinct was to be a little weary and hostile. There was no earth or rock around so using gold magic was her only choice. 

She breathed in and closed her eyes, once she released, her eyes opened. Her grey pupils turning into glowing gold. The surge of pain began to rise in her, as a bow manifested in her hand. Its physical shape was shining underneath the lights of this palace. She held her bow in the right position and pulled back the string.

Aimed at this blue-coated stranger, she walked out from the corner of the hallway and yelled.

“Who are you?!”

Her aim was true and her hands were steady, he didn’t seem phased. 

“Just, calm down. No ones here to hurt you.”

The pain of using this powerful form of magic was increasing every second she held onto the string of her bow. The striking power of the arrow began to strengthen, leading her to grip the bow tighter and wince. She accidentally released the string, thus firing the arrow at the blue stranger. Her eyes widened from worry, not meaning to fire but the use of this magic was too painful to handle.  

 The next thing she witnessed completely stunned her. He catches the golden arrow with one hand. He snapped the arrow in two causing it to disappear.

“How did you?! What are you?!” She asked.

She was completely at a loss for words, as this stranger was able to withstand the power of Gold Magic. No one was capable of such a feat unless he earned mastery over the magic. Seeing a plant on his desk in the room behind her, she rushes toward it. It was strangely unique, Its petals were like any quartz you’d ever seen. Dark purple with cracks of green within it. It looked like a star…

Justin was immediately concerned, as he knew what she held was dangerous.

“Put that flower down, it’s dangerous!”

With her earth magic, she waved her hand over the flower but a new sensation was felt. She had absorbed the dormant power within this object of nature. The tips of her fingers slowly began to turn to crystal clear diamond, freaking her out. This new sensation was magic, foreign magic she’d never seen or felt before. She fainted from the overbearing stress of the gold magic lingering on and this new surge of unknown magic power.  

Her golden bow vanished from sight, Justin sighed, then walked over to her. Removing the power and returned it to remain in the flower. He picked her up and carry her back into the Med-Bay.  

A few hours had gone by, she woke up but this time with Justin in the other bed waiting for her to wake up.

“You’re up. Good.”

“Hi, did I faint?”

“You did.” He laughed a little in the awkwardness in the room.

She sat up and began to stand on her own, waiting for an explanation.

“What are you? Who are you”

“Let me take it from the top.” He briefly paused. “Hello, my name is Justin. I’m an alien time traveler. Nice to meet you, Mira.”

“Alien Time Traveler?” Mira said. “You’re a man from the stars?!” She felt surprised.

Her first time meeting someone that left stardust in his wake. “You’re actually from the stars?!” Mira had baffled written on her face. 

He got a kick out of it when people are surprised to learn he is an alien. 

“I am.” 

“What were you doing in Basil?”

“Traveling. I’m a traveler, new things to see, new things to experience. Interesting people to meet.” He said. “Wanna come with me?”

“What?”

“Come travel with me. I’m in a new world, Id love to have a friend and a tour guide.”

She felt reluctant at first, a meeting a man from the stars was big but now he’s offering to travel this world with him.

“I- I don’t know what to say. This is all so fast, it has been a strange day.”

“Take your time. Breathe, do whatever it is you need to do.” He told her. 

“I need to let my apprentice know ill be gone.”

“Of course.”

She felt the palace rumble beneath her feet, 

“Enoch, ya heard the lady.”

The Eternity lands in front of Mira’s apprentices home. She knocked on her door and her apprentice Lia answered.

“Mira?”

“I’m gonna be traveling for a while, protect Basil while I’m gone.”

She ran away before Lia could get another word in, she looked up to see her teacher waving at her from a flying ship. Now off to venture to explore the world she lived-in, set off for fun, thrills, and a whole lot of potential fighting with her new friend, Justin the Alien.

[seoultraveller]

[A/N: I am kind of writing this for myself (ngl) but I thought it would be interesting to see how something like this plays out. A multi-part AU where the characters are attending university in South Korea. The main female character is black/African-American but that will later become more of a factor as the story goes on. Seonghwa and the MC exchange letters through a book in one of the libraries on campus and without know each other, grow a connection through that. Hongjoong is the classmate and group partner of the MC but has no idea that they are exchanging letters to each other until further on in the story. This part is just a quick introduction to the characters and their overall placements in the story.]

Her Secret Scribe, His Winter Dream (1)

Pairing: Seonghwa x Black Female MC & Hongjoong x Black Female MC

Genre: College!AU

Word Count: 2,885

October 29, 2020 ~4:50am

Waking up at around 4:50am, Seonghwa notices that his textbook, notes, highlighters, and pen are all still neatly placed on his desk. He placed it there with the intent to get some early morning studying in before his shower and a little bit after his shower, just before he left for his first class of the day. He wills himself up from his warm, soft, and comfortable bed to walk to the bathroom to freshen up. On his way to the bathroom, he passes by his roommates partially opened door and takes a peek to see if he made it in last night. Or more like, early this morning. Poking the top of his head through the door opening Seonghwa sees his roommate. There lies Hongjoong, fully clothed, face-first, bag still hanging off of his shoulder, lying on top of his bed, and in the starfish position. All Seonghwa can do is shake his head at his friend, knowing how bad his sleeping habits are and how much is is hardly at the apartment nowadays.

After checking on Hongjoong, Seonghwa goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. Then he strips himself of his pajamas and gets into the shower. Showers have always been a bit of a meditative practice to Seonghwa. His average time is forty minutes but there are occasions where he has spent up to 50 minutes or an hour in the shower. He prides himself on his cleanliness, both in how he physically presents himself and the spaces that he exists in (apartment, bed, desk, etc...).

Once his shower is done, he wraps his towel around his hips and then makes his way to the kitchen. There he takes out four eggs, a container of rice, and some steak that he grilled left over from the night before. Next, Seonghwa fills up a pot with water, sets it on one of the eyes of the stove and puts the fire on 8 (one of the highest settings). After dropping the four eggs in the water he rinses his hands off and proceeds to his bedroom to get changed.

Never one to make to much of a fuss of what he wears, Seonghwa puts on an undershirt, then throws on a grey long-sleeved thermal and a pair of black jeans. Long black socks to warm his feet, and he takes out a sweater and a jacket to keep himself warm on his way to class.

It’s around 6:00am by the time he is finished getting dressed and now, he tends to the food that is set out in the kitchen. Reheating the steak and rice, turning off the fire underneath the pot and taking out two of the hard boiled eggs for himself. He puts it all in a bowl that he takes back to his room, and eats at his desk, while going over his notes.

Seonghwa broke up his study time into two 45-minute sessions, which allows him time to prepare a bowl for Hongjoong for breakfast (if he eats it) and make it down to his bus before it pulls up at 8:30am.

Having followed his schedule to a ‘T’ this morning, he was proud of himself for making it to the library before the morning rush and acquiring a desk, with a view, on the third floor before they were all occupied. Instead of pushing himself to study a bit more, since today’s schedule was not Seonghwa’s usual schedule, he decided to write a letter on the off-chance that he can bring comfort to someone during mid-term season. Instead of writing on bathroom doors, or in the dark corner of a desk, Seonghwa decided to write a letter. Writing a letter and stashing it in a random book. It’s getting a bit chillier in South Korea, so although it was a long shot, perhaps he can create a pen-pal through this and maybe even get close and intimate during this period as well. However, that is a very, very, very long shot.

So with romantic thoughts of meeting someone who shares a like mind or sees life from a different perspective, he writes.

“Dear Student that is Enduring Mid-Terms and an Incoming Winter,

We are nearing the beginning of a new month which could mean a fresh new beginning for some. It could also mean nearing the end of something larger, like the semester. I know that it’s mid-term season but I am unsure if it has ended for you. I could only pray that you stay warm as the winter will be harsh as it usually is, but I am sure you knew that.

I honestly thought I would have more to say... but obviously not. I figured a formal letter would be better to connect with someone during this time, then short, informal, and weird messages written aimlessly. Now, I’m getting embarrassed... Sorry.

No one will probably read this so...

With Care,

The Secret Scribe”

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

October 29, 2020 ~10:52am

Waiting in a hallway right outside the classroom, she, scrolls through her student email account on her phone and sees an email from her linguistics class. Linguistic Acquisition through Different Ages - LIA 3006. Although she knew, that to pass this class she must complete a project, she totally forgot that it had to be completed with at least one or two other people. A group project... “how despicable” she thought. The email that the professor sent, laid out the regulations of the project and even placed the class in neat groups of two or three. She was lucky enough to get paired with “Mr. Fashionably-Late because Staying Up to Work on My Art is More Important”. As the time got closer and closer to 11:00am, Hongjoong is still nowhere to be seen. She’s just praying that he comes through at least ten minutes into class and not twenty minutes before it’s over. However, she could only pray for such a thing.

At 11:11am on the dot, Hongjoong comes through the door quietly. Chest heaving up and down because he was sprinting through the campus and hallways to make it to class... not too late. She notices him out of the corner of her eye and does a slow eye roll as he tip-toes his way in her direction.

“Was that a look of displeasure on your face? Or are you just containing your excitement to see me?”, he whispers into her ear while trying to quietly slither down into his seat, quickly, while the professor has her back turned.

“You are one minute late past our deal, Hongjoong.” She scolds.

“So you will not share your notes with me from today?”, he asks while giving her a pout.

“There is nothing to share. She is still reviewing the content we learned two days ago before starting a new lesson.” She retorts.

“Why did you roll your eyes then?” He questions again, as if his academics are the last thing he cares about.

“Hongjoong- “, she starts. “If there is something that you two would like to share with the class, please come up to the front.” The professor cuts in.

The look of two deer in the headlights is what can be seen from the professor’s viewpoint. With mouths agape and eyes wide, the two whispering chatterboxes were rendered speechless.

The professor continues on, “Please stop whispering behind my back. Also, I need to speak with the two of you after class.” The two of them shake their heads rapidly affirming their professor’s request.

Their class is currently on the topic of children acquiring their mother tongue and how the brain develops as the children learn how to speak or bring attention to their wants and needs as they grow. A topic such as this excites her all the more because it ties into her study abroad research topic. Learning how to speak amidst all of the culture that one’s language is tied to really fascinates her. Seeing as how her major of study in her home country is Linguistics and she took Korean because of the small intimate nature of the class, she has wanted to do and learn so much more.

As the lecture winds downs to a close for this session, Hongjoong becomes more and more anxious about what the professor wants to talk about before letting them go. Then, he hears the professor harp on,

“As for the email I sent earlier today-“, Hongjoong’s ears perk up. “You will see that for the group project you will have two different options to choose from. It can be turned in as a 10-page research paper, or completed as a presentation. Your groups have been chosen for you, by me. Please consult me if you have any questions on the project or the partners that you will be working with.” After the professor gives her parting words to the class, her eyes fall onto the two little songbirds that had her interrupt her lecture earlier.

With a knowing look, they make their way to the front of the class with a downcast gaze. As if they were to be physically reprimanded. “You know that you two are partners for this group project.” The professor starts. “Hongjoong you must be a reliable partner. I set you two up together because I’ve noticed a great partnership between you two throughout the semester. Your partner is also fairing better than you are this term. You can learn a great deal from her, in fact, you can learn quite a bit from each other. I want you to succeed Hongjoong, and I know you can.” The professor softens her gaze and turns to his partner. “She’ll do everything she can to help, won’t you?” She shakes her head ‘yes’ then looks down again. Then the professor continues to finish, “well, that was all I needed to say. Any questions?” The two students shake their head ‘no’ and bid their professor farewell before leaving the class.

“Buddies until the Christmas break?” Hongjoong says as he winks at her.

“Group partners, more like.” She says back to him.

“Wanna talk about the project over lunch?” He asks.

“Ah- that sounds like a really great idea since we’re both free at this time, but...” she trails off, but then picks up again. “Where are your eating? On campus, or off? Just asking because I figured I should check out a few language and culture books to get some foundation on our project. I’ll meet you wherever you are.

His eyebrows raise at her go-getter attitude. “Sure. Meet me at the small Vietnamese spot two blocks down.”

“Got it.” She winks at him as they break apart.

She has her mind filled with countless ways to approach the project, while his is filled with hunger and images of a big flavorful dish filled with meat and vibrantly colored vegetables.

Before aimlessly searching around the library for what she needed, she looked up the language, literature, and culture and linguistic sections of the library. Literature happens to be in the basement, while language, culture, and linguistics just happen to be on the third floor. So, she sets off for the third floor.

Although quiet, the third floor is warm and the ambiance is calm. Compared to the rest of the library, this is the floor that most people like to be on, and she could tell, because there was not a place to sit. However, her journey to this floor was not for studying but a quick search. So she set off. The part of the library she set off to was a little empty, and not as cramped as the other parts but she liked it that way. The first book she pulled from the shelf had to do with children’s speech patterns and babies recognizing sound. Noticing that there was a folded piece of paper sticking out from the top, she flipped to that spot in the book thinking there might be valuable information on that page right from the start. Nothing out of the ordinary was written on the page. No sticky notes, no annotations or drawings, just words. Next, she took to opening up the folded sheet of paper and to her surprise, it read as a simple greetings letter.

A random letter in a random book. What was the point? Was this fate, or was it meant for someone else? She thought it was cute; with the well wishes to stay warm during harsh Korean winters, and the impending embarrassment of the writer, as well as the writer giving themselves a name. She fell for it. She fell hard. Almost immediately she began having romantic notions of trading love letters to someone in a new environment. However, romantic thoughts quickly left her as she thought it could also be a woman, instead of a man. There is nothing indicating the gender of the writer and she honestly feels a little bad for passing such a judgement so quickly. Her train of thought comes to a halt as she feels the buzzing of her phone indicating a text messsage coming through.

🎧 HJ: should i order ahead for you too?

HER: sure, you’re there already?

🎧 HJ: yeah

what do you want?

HER: something mild. not too spicy.

🎧 HJ: got it

when are you coming down?

HER: actually on my way now. see you in a bit.

🎧 HJ: 😉 😉

She rolls her eyes at his latest text. She puts the letter back in the book, skim a few other book titles, take them off the shelves and makes her way over to the check-out counter.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Now, sitting and eating in the small restaurant they begin talking about why Hongjoong is late all the time, their interests outside of the classroom, and plans for the Christmas break after the project is done.

Hongjoong reaches for one of the books and questions to himself whether she’s started taking notes already because he sees a folded sheet of paper sticking out at the top. While she is busy eating and busying herself with her phone, she doesn’t notice Hongjoong going through the book. Him being as perceptive as he is, notices that it’s a small note signed by a “secret scribe”. Did she know this was here? He asks himself. In fact, taking a closer look at the writing, the tone feels oddly familiar and so does the handwriting. Or maybe he is just thinking too hard about this. Either way, he tucks the note back in its proper place and continues with skimming through the index and other parts of the book.

Hongjoong brings her attention to him by breaking the silence. “Since you have four books, how about I take two to read and you take two?”

“Sounds good.” She responds. After making her choice of books to take, they set up a time to meet, outside of class, to get started on the project.

She makes her way back to the library, while Hongjoong walks through another part of the campus to work on his music. After making it safely to the library, she struggles to find a spot. Settling for the floor in the basement, she sets off to write a letter to the “secret scribe”.

“Dear Secret Scribe (?),

I came upon your letter by chance for a project but for some reason I feel as if I am imposing. As if I was not supposed to read it and respond, but here I am writing to you anyway...

My writing may look odd and the sentence structure may be weird, but it’s because I am a foreign student.

The weather is not too bad so far, however, I am doing my best to stay warm. The change of seasons in South Korea is very beautiful to experience. Not only can you see it and smell it, but you can also sense it. Does that make sense? Anyway, my mid-terms are over, I only had two. Now, I am working towards finals. The final project that I am working on is for my Linguistics class. Actually, I am a Linguistics major. What are you majoring in? Also, are you a man or woman? I am a woman if you were curious.

I truly hope that you are managing to stay warm and stress free as the semester is coming towards an end.

You’ll Be In My Thoughts,

Your... Winter Student... A Winter Dream

P.S. I kind of need to take this book with me for research, but I’ll keep it here for you until we can agree on a place to drop off our letters... Only if you would like to continue this correspondence... Your Choice.”

With that, she leaves her letter in the book and goes up to the third floor and places it back on the shelf that she took it from. Her heart is racing, but she doesn’t know why. He probably will not respond too quickly, she thinks to herself. “You did your part, now let it go”, she tells herself as she makes her way back to her apartment for study and research.

[crowkingwrites]

War Creatures (Ch.34)

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Summary:  In a crossover of the Nine Realms and Westeros, you find yourself in the dawn of a rebellion. Odin, Lord of Pyke, has made alliances with your family, House Grover of Highgarden. Your father’s army will join Odin’s army to overthrow the King and take the Iron Throne. There is just one cost to this alliance.You must marry the dark, young prince Loki.In a world where Kings do as they wish, where war is an oncoming storm, and peace is nothing but a dream, you are lost but brave. Loki is more powerful than he seems, and love will grow from the flames of war.

Words: 2060  // [AO3 Link] //  Seasons 1-3 of War Creatures - Chapter 31 - Chapter 32 - Chapter 33

:Loki’s POV:

Loki pulled his sword out of a man. He watched him bleed out and choke on his own blood. His eyes rolled back and his soul left his body. Loki looked to the struggling man on his left. Another one of Frey’s sons. Loki didn’t clean off his sword and poke him through the back, ending his life.

“That was too easy,” he commented. Loki was surrounded by dead Frey men and women. King Malekith sent no support to his most loyal man. Walder Frey paid for it. His body was strung on the bridge. The rope twisted as his body hung there like seaweed sticks to the sea. Loki’s army moved on from the blood shed on the Twins and headed north towards his own people.

He remembered tales from his mother when he was sick. Frigga would sit next to him and tell stories of the terrible Frost Giants.

“They were savages,” Frigga said. “People who knew nothing but how to survive.” Loki considered himself a survivor of his own family. They fed him lies. Covered up his true heritage and for what? A lifetime of betrayal, war, hate? It hurt him to his core. To know that he did not belong his own family, but to a family who did not know him.

The northern roads grew colder at night. He watched some of the boys freeze in their metal cages and look upon him with disgust. Other boys looked upon him with gratitude. Either way, Loki did not care of the boys’ opinions. They were safe from the mad king. He would return them home to their families. He would not stoop to the king’s level.

The roads turned to ice and snow when his army reached the North. It was a large and wild land. Every southerner lived in fear of north’s men and the Frost Giants. Old magic was said to be more dangerous than the gods themselves. Still, Loki moved forward. He had no fear. He had old magic of his own.

The Frost Giants did not live in a village like most assumed. They had a fortress built to last every winter that befell the Nine Kingdoms. Winterfell belonged to the men. World’s Edge belonged to the Giants. The fortress bordered the sea on the Grey Hills. Their homes craved into the frozen rock. Their fortress towered Winterfell by thirty feet. Any man who approached it felt the hard stare of the giants who guarded the gates and the road.

Loki was at the head of his army when they approached the main gates. He was met with the same cold stare by three guards.

“Who comes?” the first giant’s voice boomed.

“Loki of House Laufeyson. Dark Prince of the Iron Islands. Future King of the Nine Kingdoms,” Gryff’s voice boomed back. He may be a dwarf, but his voice carried more weight than anticipated.

“Loki…,” the first giant’s voice trailed off as he took in the sight of him. A long, black cloak covered Loki. His golden-horned crown stood out against the white landscape. His grey fur collar kept his face warm. His banners whipped in the wind behind him. His familiar blue eyes struck the giant.

The first giant left the other two and the army waited in silence. Soon after, the gate was opened to World’s Edge. Loki and his army rode inside to discover the true size of the fortress which was unlike anything they have ever seen before.

:Lia’s POV:

Weeks went by without hearing anything of Loki’s status. No one said he was dead, but no one could confirm his safety either. My belly swelled to a larger size now. I could feel the weight of our child. My hand rubbed along the size of my stomach and I felt it. A kick! It was unlike anything I ever felt before. I felt so many emotions that I didn’t realize what I said.

“Loki! Come here! Our child—

My voice trailed off when I realized who I called out for. I felt myself sink into the chair I sat at. A tea made for a new mother’s health warmed me, but it was not the comfort I wanted. Out of the corner of my eye, a visitor came onto the balcony.

“I heard you calling, dear,” Eir said. “Did you need something?”

I shook my head. “I was speaking out of turn, I guess. I may as well be calling out to a ghost.” I frowned. Eir sat down next to me.

“I heard what you said. Do you miss him?”

“Very much so.”

“I have heard tall tales of your marriage to him. I was there at the wedding. He didn’t look so happy.” Eir chuckled. I laughed with her.

“He wasn’t. He didn’t enjoy the spectacle of it all.” I blinked and remembered a particular memory of that night.

“Did you like the food?” I asked him. “The fish was wonderful, but I’m sure you have had better.”

“It was okay,” Loki exhaled. He continued to look around at everyone else. His eyes narrowed to the right of me. I looked in the same direction, but I only saw Ser Petra talking to a high merchant.

“Is something wrong?”

“Don’t speak,” Loki answered right away. He kept staring at the pair, sitting forward a little more. I sat back, confused. People watching was interesting, but to do it so intensely was concerning. His eyes narrowed on Ser Petra as if he knew something.

“I remember Loki was suspicious of one of my knights that evening. Ser Petra, I believe,” I laughed. “I’m not sure why. He’s one of my father’s most loyal knights. He protected my family during the siege here. Loki just kept staring him down as if he meant to set him on fire.”

“Men,” Eir said. “And they claim women are more emotional. Speaking of emotional, how are you feeling?”

“It’s been almost three months, and I don’t know whether my husband is alive or dead. News of that battle is old and yet I know nothing of it. It weighs on me. Mostly at night when I can feel his absence. I want our child to have a father. I felt them. They kicked!”

“Ah, my summer child. What you felt was movement,” Eir corrected me. “You are only four moons along in your term. The baby will kick later.”

:Loki’s POV:

Loki and three of his men were lead to the center of the fortress. A tall and narrow room with no windows. Candles lit in several corners gave the room a dim but manageable light. The current leader of the Frost Giants sat there. His eyes were darkened by the little light in them. His deep wrinkles could tell you stories of his long life. His face lit up when Loki entered the room.

“Loki. Little Loki,” he chuckled.

“Excuse me? I come into your home—

The Leader raised his hand, and Loki shit his mouth slowly as if a ghost had gently squeezed his lips together. The Leader laughed and coughed as if he was clearing the dust in his lungs. His black feathered crown moved on his head.

“I only jest,” he shook his head. “I never thought I would meet you. Now that you stand before me, I feel joy in my chest. My nephew has come home.” The wrinkles in his face deepened when he smiled.

“Nephew?”

“My name is Yik’in. Your father, Laufey, was my younger brother,” Yik’in explained. “A warrior and a hero if there ever was one. He carried our name proudly. He fought with dignity, divinity, and with grace. When we rebelled against the kingdom, I was so sure we would win. We only wanted to live by our code. Our laws. Laufey led the invasions.

“He traveled along the border, going south, bringing blood and gold to the King. I didn’t think Lord Odin would be his end. I thought he killed all of you. Laufey, your mother, and you. News of your survival never reached here. I cried for years, feeling guilty and weak from it. My daughter, bless her, she wanted to be at peace with it all. Until I heard the news.”

“News?”

“Of Iced Steel and your touch,” Yik’in smiled. “I knew it had to be you. Only you. When the news reached me, I wrote to your father immediately. I wanted nothing to do with him and his rebellion anymore.”

“Which is why you wrote to me?” Loki’s breath was shaky. Everything started to make sense. A weight Loki never knew was there lifted from his chest. He felt like breathing was easier here. Tears started to line his eyes. “You wanted me to come here for an alliance, but you wanted me to come home.”

Yik’in’s arms reached out to the young boy. Loki embraced the old man and held him as long as he could. Loki fell on his knees in front of his uncle. His uncle’s hands touched Loki’s face, turning it blue under his touch.

“Welcome home, Loki,” he said to him.

Loki and his men were welcomed into the fortress. The Frost Giants had treated them warmly, feeding them hot food and good ale. Some of the men smoked sourleaf around the fire in bonding ceremonies. Loki found himself bonding with his uncle and helping him walk around the fortress and the surrounding under cities.

“I am glad I have met you,” Loki said. “And I am glad that you support my cause. But why me? Why quit your alliance with Odin?”

“Lord Odin is an awful man. He fights with little to no honor at all. I expect hi golden-haired son to be every inch like him,” Yik’in confessed. “I hate him. He took my brother from me. He took my nephew from me. He took my freedom from me, and yet he is a better man than King Malekith.”

“And you think I am a better man than Lord Odin?”

“I know you are. I have been following this war, boy. I’ve seen your victories and your losses. I’m impressed. You would make a better king than both of them combined.” Loki felt a warm feeling of pride wash over him. He felt the weight of Iced Steel at his side.

“I hope I don’t disappoint you.”

“You won’t. I have a faith in you that burns from the same fire that burned my hatred for those men. I heard they made you marry a southern girl. We can fix that. You could have one of our girls—

Loki held his hand up. “No, I’m happy, uncle.”

“Happy?”

“Yes. Lady Cecelia is everything I wanted. I was arranged to marry her, but ultimately she has my heart and my child.” Loki’s eyes widened. His child. He was set on the task of being here that he had forgotten about his own future child.

“Happiness and a child? Why do you look so worried, boy?”

“I forgot I was having a child!” Loki put his face in his hands. He groaned. “Oh, I am awful.” Yik’in patted his back.

“Boy, you are at war. Her belly swells. She is at work. You are at work. Let the girl worry.”

“She is not a girl, uncle,” Loki’s tone changed. A darkness fell over his eyes. “If you support me as your king, I will remind you that she is your queen. You may be my uncle, but she is mine. That will be the last time you insult what is mine.”

Two guards rushed to Yik’in’s side as Loki towered over him. Yik’in waved them away and looked at his nephew seriously. His old eyes saw a fire burned behind his young nephew’s eyes. The same fire that burned in Laufey’s eyes.

“That is why you’ll be King,” Yik’in said. “You defend what is yours. You destroy your enemies. You wield Iced Steel as if it was made for you.”

“You speak of me like I am your hero. I just threatened you,” Loki looked to his uncle’s guards.

“I know. You threatened me. Your own uncle. I can only imagine the horrors that await your enemies.”

“How many men will you give me?” Loki pushed his boundaries. Yik’in stood straight.

“How many men do you need?”

Ultimate Tag List (People who wished to be tagged in EVERY work I post.)

@angelicshinigami​​​ @sugarwastaken​​​ @carilov09​​​ ​​​ @i-theredqueen​​​@sleepylunarwolf​​​  @loki-0fasgard​​​  @ravenqueenbr

Loki Tag List (People who wish to be tagged in everything Loki related)

@thisisaclusterofablog​​​ @markusstraya​​​  @affabletimelady​​​@inumorph​​​ @1v-kayla​​​@quinzzelx​​​

To be added or removed or switched from these taglists, just ask!