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jaskiersvalley · 3 years

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Witchers didn't have daemons, that was a known fact. They were terrifying in their solitude, unfeeling and unaffected. Monsters made to fight monsters, they didn't need part of their soul for that. What the general public didn't know though was that the daemons weren't imprisoned somewhere, nor were they dead. The mages had figured out a way to separate daemon from child and force it into the most unnatural of shapes, another human. It meant two Witchers from a single child and the best part was, neither child nor daemon felt any connection to their counterpart once the process of the trials was complete.

In an effort to make sure full separation was certain and not even a sentimental link remained, daemons and children were separated and trained in different schools. Lambert had arrived at Kaer Morhen, still tripping over unfamiliar human feet and seething at being separated from his human. Over the years he tried to remember his human but, like all Witchers, they were given new names when they got their medallions and Lambert didn't think Luca still went by that name, nor would he be the scrawny kid Lambert remembered him as.

Whenever Lambert met another Witcher, he couldn't help but wonder whether it was his Luca that he was meeting. Though he wanted to believe that there would be a spark some kind of recognition there. He had been a little relieved when he met Letho and there was nothing there between them.

Of course Geralt had to be the first one to find his daemon. The smug bastard had found a bard who told people his daemon was a flea which was just like him; unnoticeable until he causes a nuisance. Most pitied him but Geralt had seen through the charade. He watched the bard without a daemon, curiosity and caution allowed him to permit Jaskier to tag along. The story tumbled out eventually.

"My great grandparents bought me. I was some kind of freak novelty some merchants were selling."

That was all Geralt had needed to hear and he was all but dragging Jaskier back to Kaer Morhen in the winter. Nobody had expected Vesemir's face to close off completely.

"I remember you!" Jaskier said in way of greeting. "You were a dick."

"Julian." The reply was terse and tight.

Lambert got a front view seat to seeing Geralt's face flit through more emotions in one second than he usually did in a whole year. The embrace was tight, Geralt's nose buried in Jaskier's hair.

Jealousy trickled through Lambert's veins. For all he knew, his human was already a dead Witcher. There was no link between Witcher and daemon, the trials severed it all completely so when one died, the other didn't even notice, let alone die from it.

"Why isn't he a Witcher?" Eskel asked, eyes glued to the happy reunion.

"Kaer Morhen needed money. Your cohort, the daemons didn't become Witchers. We sold them to the highest bigger."

Lambert didn't expect Eskel to punch Vesemir across the jaw but he was sure as shit glad he saw it. It meant he didn't need to do it on behalf of Geralt and Eskel. For the first time though, Lambert had an optimistic thought.

"It might mean he's living a happy life somewhere. I mean, look at Jaskier. He's had it better than us."

That was a topic that came up repeatedly over the next few weeks. They dreamed up all sorts of fancy lives Eskel's daemon could have lived, the wonders he would have seen. Through it all, Lambert bitterly wished his daemon could have been anything but a Witcher. Alas, Vesemir rapidly disillusioned him from that idea.

"He's become a Witcher, probably dead by now. And if you met him, you'd probably wish he was."

"Is that so?" Lambert drawled, emptying his tankard with a disappointed sigh. He couldn't believe it was empty again.

"You suffered the same shit fate I did. Your human was trained by Cats. Guxart turned into an utter dick."

The words were muttered darkly and Lambert tried not to take it to heart how much hatred Vesemir oozed. It made him all that much more determined to not go the same way as the bitter old man. Instead, he turned to Geralt with a leer. "So, is it gay or is it masturbation to want to get off with your own daemon?"

To say the table erupted in uproar was an understatement. Geralt was scowling somewhat fierce, arms crossed over his chest in protest. It only egged Lambert on further.

"I think it's incest," he declared with a shit eating grin. "Technically it's part of your family because you have the same parents."

"It's masturbation at most." Geralt was growling and glowering. "Because the daemon was still part of you."

Through it all, Eskel stayed rather quiet. It was only when the other two looked to him for opinion that he leaned forward, propping himself up on the table with a serious crease to his brows.

"I think-" the words were low and measured, "-that as long as everyone involved consents, it's fucking hot is what it is."

"The only thing it is," Vesemir finally butted in, "is a disaster waiting to happen. You don't want to meet your counterparts. Trust me."

Except that only made Lambert all the more keen. He wanted to both prove Vesemir wrong and also have what Geralt and Jaskier seemed to be hurtling towards. So, come spring, he set out with the intent of fulfilling one contract only. It was one that he would pay himself for in emotional fulfilment. He was going to find every Cat he could until he found Luca.

He met Gaetan along his travels who laughed in his face and said he was much more into snakes than wolves. That was an encounter Lambert was more than eager to cut short because he did not want to think about how Letho and Gaetan were oddly complementary. It was also another jolt of bitter jealousy, another Witcher and daemon had been reunited while he was still out there looking for his own. Assuming Luca had survived.

Meeting Guxart was a bit of an accident and Lambert wished he'd not encountered the old Cat. He growled and hissed about his stupid daemon who would probably have turned into a useless pigeon if left alone. There was obviously no love lost between them and Lambert desperately hoped he wasn't going to have the same fate.

Third time lucky, as the saying went. Lambert had trailed the new Cat for a few days, learning his habits and watching him work. There was no ounce of recognition or familiarity. But then again, the last time Lambert saw Luca, they were being dragged away from each other, foreign hands on his rapidly shifting body so his eyes could barely adjust enough to see the screaming, tear filled face of his human. It was quite possibly the worst last image he could have had of Luca.

Satisfied that the Cat wasn't someone Lambert wouldn't want to associate with, he approached in the evening when the campfire was still bright but slowly settling.

"I was wondering when my shadow would make himself known," the Cat said easily enough, barely glancing up from where he was whittling something.

The last two times Lambert had tried to be careful with exploring the idea of the Cat Witcher being his human. He was tired and cut straight to the point.

"Luca?"

By the fire the man froze. It was only luck that meant Lambert could hear the shuddering exhales of someone trying to keep up the façade of calm and collected. Finally, the man set his carving aside and stood with an easy smile that felt like a thousand lies.

"I go by Aiden." It wasn't a reply and Lambert knew it.

"I don't remember my name," he admitted softly, desperately hoping he wasn't about to make an utter tit of himself. "People call me Lambert. But I'm looking for my Luca."

He didn't expect to suddenly have an armful of Witcher clinging to him like their very lives depended on it.

"It's really you!" Aiden sounded close to tears. "You never did have a single name, usually going by Idiot, Pain In The Butt, Menace and so many other equally flattering names."

"Guess that never changed," Lambert laughed wetly. He held Aiden close, wishing he could feel as he used to when they were connected. "We have a lot of catching up to do."

It was just that start of something Lambert never thought he'd have. Easy companionship, shared disdain for the whole Witcher thing, stories upon stories of contracts gone well, gone wrong, or just plain gone. By the time winter rolled round, Lambert was firmly of the opinion that he and Aiden would travel together, fuck the Path and all the teachings about it being lonely. If Geralt could have his bard then they sure as hell could have each other.

Getting to Kaer Morhen, Lambert gleefully had an arm slung around Aiden's shoulder, introducing him to the rest of his family. He especially delighted in the flaring of Vesemir's nostrils as he took in the situation.

"Cats and Wolves don't mix. You of all people should know that."

"And you should know it's my life's mission to prove you wrong, old man," Lambert shot back.

Perhaps the most curious part of the whole winter was that Geralt was already back with not one, but two guests. Jaskier was a known quantity and Lambert greeted him warmly. The other though was a near silent man who watched them through eyes that looked way too old for his body.

"This is Cahir," Geralt said when the man didn't even introduce himself. "We'd heard rumours of a Nilfgaardian without a daemon and went to investigate."

"Not a Nilfgaardian," Cahir grumbled with a half-hearted glare.

It took Lambert a moment to figure out just why Geralt would bring such a man back before his eyes widened in delighted realisation.

"You think that-"

"Mhm."

That was the extent of their conversation because Lambert was cackling in delight. He looked Cahir over with a newfound interest. Young, like Jaskier but so very different in behaviour. As much as they'd wondered about Eskel's daemon's fate, this wasn't one they'd predicted.

Three days later Eskel was leading Scorpion into Kaer Morhen's courtyard. Lambert and Aiden were all but bouncing with excitement, not wanting to miss the moment Eskel met his daemon. In their opinion Geralt was drawing things out and making it less fun by not having them all meet in the stables. Instead, Eskel was allowed to venture into the kitchen in the company of Lambert and Aiden who were vibrating in anticipation.

"Eskel," Geralt greeted him with a warm hug. Jaskier and Cahir were behind him, even Vesemir had ventured out to see what the outcome would be. "It's good to have you home. Allow me to introduce you to Cahir."

The two looked at each other with guarded gazes and Eskel gave a terse nod. It was as anticlimactic as fuck. No recognition, not interest, nothing. Just a slow once over which, if Lambert had thought about it, was pretty much a mirror image of each other, equally considering and closed off.

Despondent, he dragged Aiden off, helping lay the table for a shared meal. Vesemir was quick to follow, there was no way to tell whether he was disappointed or relieved by the lack of drama. Geralt and Jaskier wandered out, oddly deflated. Not two seconds later there was an almighty crash from the kitchen and they were all racing back. Only to turn right around and flee after a glimpse of Cahir pinning Eskel to a wall and kissing him like Eskel was the last gasp of air for a drowning man.

"So, are they?" Jaskier asked, glancing towards the kitchen. Something else crashed and thumped but it was best not to investigate.

After a moment it was Vesemir who tiredly said, "Does it matter? It doesn't seem like they much care."

All in all, Lambert didn't think he cared either. Cahir and Eskel seemed happy enough in their new acquaintanceship, trying to figure out their past could wait, if they even wanted to explore it. Though Lambert had a hard time imagining Cahir as a goat. Over the years he'd heard Eskel lament enough about how his daemon preferred to take the form of a goat.

Regret came the next morning at breakfast when Eskel and Cahir appeared at the table, seemingly indifferent. If the rest of them hadn't see the two almost violently making out in the kitchen before disappearing to a bedroom, they wouldn't have guessed anything had gone on between them.

"Hey Geralt," Eskel called, face passive. "You know the difference between a goldfish and a mountain goat?"

"A mountain goat could live in Kaer Morhen but a goldfish couldn't?"

Eskel rolled his eyes. "No, a goldfish mucks around a fountain."

"And a mountain goat fucks around a mountain," Cahir finished the joke. He and Eskel high fived without looking at each other. Lambert only smacked his head on the table when Cahir continued, "And I am no goldfish."

#geraskier #lambden #eskhir #geralt/jaskier #lambert/aiden #eskel/cahir #unhappy vesemir/guxart #geralt of rivia #jaskier #lambert #aiden #eskel #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #vesemir #daemon au #tldr: witchers' daemons are humans when the connection between them is severed

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its-snicket-here · 3 years

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Being sister of Ainz?? *Whisper from the dark corner*

*Whispers from the deep abyss of personal drafts* Hell fucking yeah

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Due to you being much more younger and more prone to gaming. I can see your character to have more of a monstrous form than a humanly look.

Ainz can now rest on having to spend money on your account, due to you doing multiple side jobs. Though, that doesn't let you escape of sharing your half of rent.

Your character is a demon; clad in a tattered yellow cloak with the hood always up, blocking any prying eyes from seeing your face. What it only peaks out is grey hair. Though the sleeve aren't long enough to cover your bandaged and shackled arms. In an ombre fashion, the arms are shown to go from black to blood red at the finger tips.

Though when unhooded, it's shown that your face is also pitch black. Your mouth is replaced with something more inhumane, having no teeth nor anything. Though it's capable of breaking and tearing through anything with such animalistic powers. Strange red substances dribble out, though nobody dares to try even touching it.

Your eyes is blindfolded, though when unraveled, it shows only a void where the sockets are. All oozing the same red substance that dribbles from the mouth. You have a long black tongue that oozes a stank smell when activated for fighting.

Your chest had an open hole, where your ribcage pops out in the flesh and where your spine could be shown. Where the heart is supposed to be lies a giant plasma ball. Though like Ainz's, it's indestructible.

Like the mom, you and Ainz have special perks when you have family members joining in the game. Unlike mother's rage, the two of you have now gained "Sibling's Rivalry."

When the two of you were transported into the new world, instead of spawning inside the Tomb with Ainz. You were spawned inside a cave, deep inside the forest where Hamsuke was at.

It took you a little while to get out of there, but you did it.

But it did took you long time getting your sense of perception because your sight has been replaced black and white outlines. You were tripping over multiple shit in the cave and the forest: trees, rocks, a lizard, a corpse, you name it. You were tripping everywhere.

Though despite your struggle of having a different sense of perception. You were able to detect life sources somewhere, but couldn't exactly pinpoint the direction it was coming from.

So, it caught you off guard when you "see" a giant hamster right in front of you doing a piss ass job of threatening you.

Thus the hilarity ensued when you activated your intimidation skill on Hamsuke.

So, you have now a hamster ride and a new roommate to sleep with. Though, you do enjoy the furry rat hamster's company. At least she'll be your guide around the forest.

Thus the two of you were dubbed the "The Wise King of the Forest" and "The Demonic Puppet," much to your annoyance. You're not a damn puppet that's for sure.

When Ainz heard about you and Hamsuke in the forest, he was highly interested in you. Rumors had it you were the supposed puppet/rider of "The Wise King of the Forest." So of course he wanted to either recruit you or to at least collect you like he was planning to do for Gazef

It was surprise when he finally noticed that it was his sister that was labeled as "The Demonic Puppet," but is relieved that he isn't lonely now

Breathes

That doesn't escape the fact you're now a gremlin

Might as well make you the prankster demon, because you do a shit ton of light hearted tricks

The classic plastic wrap on the doorways, replacing bombs with glitter dust, making swords break at the first contact before reconnecting all together again, toothpaste filling in Oreos/pastries, you get the drill.

Demiurge wants to experiment and study your red ooze that drips out and see its effect. You have now gained Demiurge's interest on studying you, especially your reasons to be shackled.

I would say that you're aren't specifically in the guide but is considered to be because of your connection and how frequently you've visit the guide.

Though, you can't gain a human look no matter how hard you can transform

As if you can actually transform lmaooooo

So, you are forced to wear a mask and lots of long sleeved shirts, bandages, long pants, your coat, and/or dresses when you go outside with Ainz and Nabe in E-Rantel. Though you can't seem to take off your shackles off you.

I can see you and Evileye being acquaintances in heroes term. Other than that, she sees you as a gateway on trying to hook up with Ainz/Momonga and an interesting person. A strong mage always hiding behind a mask like her.

Though unlike cosmic demon eldritch mama, you don't gain a following. The last thing you want is idiots trying to summon you, despite saying a very hard no on accepting their praises and begging.

There is times where you go onto a blood frenzy uncontrollably out of the blue that Ainz had to put Demiurge and Cocytus in charge in containing your blood frenzy. If it goes out of control, then Ainz would reluctantly WILL and HAVE to put you out for himself.

So when the war happened between the two kingdoms, when Ainz was making everyone thinking he was an actual fucking monster. They all should be fearing you. You. Go. Nuts. With. Full. Intent. of. Excitement. For. Blood. And. Fear.

Before the whole war even happened, you and Demiurge were setting up the battlefield with traps, hidden demons/beasts, hiding poison containers somewhere in the water supply that will open at a specific time, portals from hell, etc. You are on full intent of destroying the kingdom with all of your might.

Just hope they don't get inside [Death's Parade] ok? :)

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[Sibling's Rivalry] - Due to you having a connection with another player via email/phone number confirmation, you and your connector have now gained a new skill set [Sibling's Rivalry]. When in a 40 meter radius with your sibling, you have now gained an increase of 125% ATK speed, 45% AGILITY, and a 200+ MP boost.

[Blood Lust] - Every physical kill increases your ATK power by +15%. Maximum is +150% for 15 minuets. Though when passive, when not killing, the player will have a meter that will slowly goes up until 100%. If any kills hasn't occur,

[Death's Parade] - One time use, afterwards you must rest until [Death's Parade] can be used again. Upon use, within 75 meter radius of the caster shall turn into an arena. Those who inside the radius can not escape nor those outside the radius can join in. Multiple demonic summons and undead summons shall appear and will fight to the death to the players that are trapped inside. The arena will stay on until either the caster's MP reaches to 1 or the players inside the arena is dead. 145% ATK speed, 65% spell power, 145% casting speed.

[F. E. A. R] - Fear Energy Acid Radiation. Those who are not immune to the fear energy radiation or has consumed fear acid would now experience a multitude of nightmares and hallucinations until they have escaped the radiation or after 2 hours if digested. It is possible to die from [F. E. A. R].

[Tier 1/2/3 intimidation] - Tier 1 effects low leveled beings through 1 - 25. Tier 2 effects mid level beings through 25 - 75. Tier 3 effects higher level beings through 75 - 100. When under the intimidation, they will be frozen in fear for 10 minuets. Though if using a higher level fear on a lower level being it can have a lasting effect until turned off.

[Blood Cult Garbs] - 'Worship is meaningless when given prayers and offerings. What THEY need is blood to be spilled, screams to be heard, flesh being wounded!' 195% spell power, 145% casting speed

[Sacrificial blade] - 'This is a gift from the Gods...' A blade that has already taken the lives of many unbelievers and its willingly followers. Though it has been unwashed over the years of use. 175% life leech, status: bleeding, status: hemorrhage, status: infected

[Status: Holy Imprisoned] - Due the angelic shackles containing your sins, you have been now suppressed of demonic urges and have now gained morality and emotions. Though the older the shackles are, the harder it will stop the demonic urges and sins seizing through. Every time a demonic ability/spell has been mustered, the host will go through intense pain that will take 25% of their health, but will never go down to 0. -250% holy damage resistance, demonic damage nullified, status: imprisoned, -110% casting speed [Holy Imprisoned is inflicted by Angelic species that is the same level or higher than the host. Can be effected again.]

[Orb of Trickery] - Due to you now infused with the orb, you are now able to cast illusion spells, psychic spells, and hypnotic spells much faster with 3x of the effect.

#ainz ooal gown #lord ainz #overlord x reader #sibling reader #sister reader #demonic reader #overlord x sister reader

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goineedsleep · 3 years

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i am cursed, and also delusional

i got sick recently(not covid, i am a fully vaccinated bitch), so i'm writing this on caffeine and pain

i hope you enjoy the shitshow

-trials of octopath is todays awful fusion idea

-for those of you unaware of trials of manas existence, it's a lot like octopath(and vice versa). trials is a game where you pick 3 characters out of 6 possible options to play as, and the story changes drastically depending on who's in your party. im' gonna have to cut a couple of the octopaths to fit this AU, but i'll be putting them elsewhere- you'll see them eventually

-i'm not even getting into story pairs! every two characters in trials of mana has the same final boss. if you put two characters together who have the same story(say, the fighter/duran or the mage/angela), it gives more information on those characters and their shared story.

-we have olberic the fighter(replacing duran) first. after an invasion of his home, he trusts erhardt with protecting it while he chases after the perpetrator

-then there's cyrus the mage(replacing angela)- he is the prestiged son of a famed scholar. he cannot use the same powerful magic his father could, and thus is chosen to be executed by him. cyrus unleashes enough magical power to teleport out of that situation(this happens in-game), and runs away to seek guidance from the Archbishop of the Church of the Sacred Flame.

-now we have therion the thief. he is a close friend of the leader of the Thieves Guild of the Ravuses, a man known as Heathcote. Darius, an "old friend " of his, saved Heathcotes life from being missing. this results in Heathcote acting very weird from the day he returns- at least, if you ask therion. Heathcote has never expressed the want to start a nation and invade another country until now! he gets help from Heathcotes son, the doctor of their group, to find out what's going on with Heathcote. It turns out... that Darius is using mind control to manipulate Heathcote to follow his bidding. man come on therion was just starting to not punch you in the face every night just when you were about to fall asleep again

-Darius uses dark magic to seal Alfyn away to another realm, and frames Therion for the kidnapping. Therion can't tell the truth about the situation either or kill Darius- Cordelia, Alfyns little sister, will die as well if he even dares due to a cursed article of clothing given to her by Darius.

-luckily for him, Tressa has mercy on him a couple months later and breaks him out of jail. therion decides to investigate the curse in order to find out how to stab Darius in the most affective way imaginable. Also to save Cordelia, but that isn't his priority at the moment

-now we have the warrior princess Primrose

-she's the captain of the woman-led guard of the country of Azelhart

-her mother died during childbirth whilst giving birth to her little sister tressa, and so she decided to take care of her to the best of her ability. her father is very proud of her for taking charge like this, but he still is the parent in this version. he is the one that technically raised tressa since I do not want to force primrose to parent someone when she's like 6

-primrose was just a dedicated babysitter

-she wants tressa to practice her dancing, and when she finds her she's being held at knifepoint by 2 thieves. the barrier protecting Azelhart from enemy forces is broken, tressa is kidnapped, and -Azelhart is no more. Now Primrose is no princess or noble- she's just Primrose

-She goes to the Priest of Light so she can pray for forgiveness from Aelfric before she kills all of the Ravus thieves guild

-H'aanit is the princess of the werewolves. they've been oppressed and marginalized by humans for years, so they've taken up the forest as their home. she's a hunter like most of them are, yet she's never been able to harness the power of her bloodline: it may be due to her being half-human, but she's never been capable of transforming into a beast like her brethren.

-she meets the snow leopard Linde in front of her dead mothers corpse, and starts feeding it

-she has a new pet now -linde and herself work together and they sometimes do better than full-blooded werewolves when they work together

-Z'aanta forms an alliance with Mattias, a man who's worked with the Church of the Sacred Flame a million times -immediately following the forming of this alliance Linde attempts to kill H'aanit -H'aanit doesn't wish to hurt her friend, but she has no choice: she turns into a werewolf for the first time in her life and loses control of her thoughts in her despair

-oh welp the cat's dead(I'M SO SORRY LINDE YOU ARE A VERY GOOD KITTY) -H'aanit heads back home to cry for a minute... then she overhears Mattias admitting that he killed her cat -H'aanit attempts to attack him, and then gets yeeted to Jadd -good job ham, you complete and utter pokemon trainer

-last up, we've got ophilia -she's the adoptive daughter of the Archbishop of the Sacred Flame -she hears Lianna's gonna be going somewhere, she gets an awful vision of Lianna never being seen again following this mission, and goes with her in secret -Lianna gets kidnapped regardless by Mattias -so ophilia decides to find this guy and punch him in the face

-alright that's all of the character backstories

-THANK GOD

-all of these people(save alfyn and tressa, who is being held hostage by the ravus thieves guild) go to jadd first- h'aanit is yeeted there by mattias

-h'aanit notices that her people are invading this town and will be invading Flamesgrace- her next goal is to stop this -olberic wants to stop this as well, so he and h'aanit team up first

-Primrose looks for Tressa in some desperate search, and meets Cyrus during this search. they decide to journey together to Wendel, figuring going together would be better than being alone -they think it's a dumb idea to fight the beastmen, so they decide to escape at night like the bartender suggested

-ophilia finds therion at the bar while looking for food, and overhears his story while she eats soup and bread -she leads him to Wendel, wanting to do help another adventurer before she goes off into the unknown herself

-olberic and h'aanit free the town from beastmen and go to the cavern that leads to flamesgrace(which i am going to keep calling Wendel on accident because that's what it is in trials, srry) -they get there and there's a barrier -archbishop put it up to protect them from the beastmen, and then h'aanit and olberic find the lakeside town of astoria -the villagers keep mentioning how a divine light has started appearing in the area, and olberic shrugs it off and takes a very long nap. the poor man is very tired -ophilia and therion head there as well and follow the light to where it falls- ophilia touches this flame and has to fight a giant robot w/ therion -they win, and ophilia doesn't see it anymore -she shrugs and heads back to astoria, where beastmen have wrecked the town. it is g o n e -ophilia holds a memorial service for them, where she tells therion about how she's a cleric of the Sacred Flame -therion shrugs and suggests they keep going. they don't have much time before it's day and the beastmen attempt to attack Flamesgrace, too

-h'aanit, olberic, cyrus and primrose are having a picnic at the barrier when ophilia and therion arrive -ophilia attempts charging into the barrier, and then it sets on fire and they can all go through -after a long and awkward icebreaker, they all decide to travel together. it's pretty dangerous out there anyways, with the beastmen attacking and atlasdams rumored invasion of Hornburg. the ravus nation is also a major worry, therion reminds them, but they arent' gonna be in the area for a while

-these guys make it to flamesgrace to receive advice on what's coming next -olberic is told to become stronger before challenging atlasdam, and not to do so alone. he continues being in the group due to this -cyrus is told to learn how to understand his emotions- magic is not the forms they teach at school, but rather what comes from the heart. he decides to accompany the travelers so he can escape imprisonment by atlasdam forces -therion first learns of how the dimension Alfyn's been tossed into is inaccessible by humans. it is the birthplace of galdera, and is a realm of which sinners reside after they've lived their lives. Alfyn is probably not going to last very long in this realm- he's as good as dead -therion is then told of how ancient and deadly of a magic the cursed choker is, and that darius is not human. what he is is a mystery, and to save cordelia he must find the sword of aelfric. he cannot save alfyn, so he may as well save his sister -primrose is advised to find her sister and that if she chooses to destroy the ravus nation, aelfric will not support her actions, though they are understandable. if she finds the Sword of Aelfric, she may gain the power she needs to destroy the Ravus nation. -h'aanit is told that Linde will live on through her, and that Mattias is a warlock of Galderas. he has been rejected by the Order of the Sacred Flame as a result, though he does lie very affectively. to save the Kingdom of S'warkii, she must take down Mattias. and since mattias is going after the Sword of Aelfric she may as well accompany Ophilia and make Mattias's efforts worth nothing at all -ophilia is told to find Lianna, since she has been chosen by the Ember. she is now the only person who can rise the Sword of Aelfric from its resting place

-the Sword of Aelfric is hidden within the Sanctuary of Aelfric, which needs an insane amount of power to be opened. normally this power can be leached from the Aelfric Stones, but doing so could let loose ancient and terrible demons. therefore, the 8 gods that reside next to these stones need to be called upon in order to open the portal to the Sanctuary. -Therion suggests going after Aelfric first, since he's the closest one to them. after that, they need to find someone who knows where the rest of them are and also how to get there -they all agree that it's a good plan, but cyrus brings up that the Aelfric Stones each belong to a specific nation or people. going there and borrowing the gods power would be going after large civilizations that have grown around these stones -olberic suggests that they plan this out later, when they have more information and time -they all agree and go ahead to find the first of 8 gods

#trials of mana #octopath traveler #olberus #will happen eventually trust me #i am trash like that

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srose-foxfire · 4 years

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Can you write a Damirae prompt on like their first date??

A/N: I been wracking my brain all day to pick just ONE idea for this particular prompt and being Valentine’s Day today. I wanted to give you all a small gift that I hope will bring you smiles. ^_^ Happy Valentines Day!!!

Enjoy!!!

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

“Hold me, whatever lies beyond this morning,

Is a little later on,

Regardless of warnings,

The future doesn’t scare me at all,

Nothing is like before.”

~ Simple and Clean by Hikaru Utada

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

A soft summer breeze swept Raven’s short hair, the young mage allowed the night cool air to sweep away her worries she had that evening. She didn’t understand why she was feeling uneasy. She has faced countless enemies before, and they would bring even the best hero some fear. But tonight, was a different battle, one she had never experienced before and could only rely on the knowledge she knew from her books. Her first date.

Raven always imagined and even dreamed what her first date would be; spending valuable time with someone who would understand better than she understood herself. Perhaps reading certain novels together, going to watch some movie at the cinema, or even just having a drink outside a nice small café. Raven had dreamt her first date would be awkward since it was just the start of their relationship, but she wasn’t sure if the feelings she was currently feeling were right. Raven felt restless, like she had no control over anything happening tonight. To make matters worse she felt her stomach turn inside of her, making Raven fear she would ruin the night if she hurled whatever she may consume.

Raven had prepared herself mentally not to act different. To keep being true to herself, but no matter how much she had meditated earlier that day it didn’t help. Who could act like nothing had changed when her date was none other than Damian Wayne? Publicly he was seen as Bruce Wayne’s second son and the heir to Wayne Industries. Internally? Raven knew him as the new Robin who had joined the Titans just five years ago.

The two would train and patrol together Jump City most nights. Now it was all different, Damian had come to her room one night asking for her presence in the training room. When Raven had gotten there, she assumed he wanted to continue her lessons in close combat training. Instead Damian wasn’t dressed in his Robin uniform he was wearing his civilian clothes with a bouquet of assorted purple flowers in his hand. His face had turned the strangest shade of red, before handling her the bouquet.

“I have feelings for you, I don’t know if you feel the same way, but I needed to tell you. Raven would you like to go out with me?”

And here she was. For their date, Damian had brought them to the same amusement park they had gone when he first joined the titans. Raven was sitting while Damian had gone off to get a snack while they rested. Raven lowered her head onto the cool metal table, she had acted foolish around him all night. First of all, for transportation Damian brought them on his cycle. Making Raven hold him tight for dear life and also making her very well aware of his hard abbs. Then throughout the evening she tried making small talk and somehow confess her own feelings. Though every time they got around to that specific topic Raven would go silent or change the topic. What was she evading? Did she not like him? Damian did make her feel differently, but she couldn’t quite put the words to it. Maybe-

Her train of thought was stopped as someone cleared their throat behind her; “I thought you would like something to drink?” Damian placed a soft drink in front of her.

“Thanks.” With shaky hands, Raven grabbed the drink from him. Damian sat down on the chair next to hers and opened up a small box of fries and onion rings. He gestured to her with a nod of his head and Raven timidly gave him a small smile before grabbing a fry, dipping it into some ketchup. They ate in silence, yet Raven wished she had the courage and speak to him about how she truly felt.

“Is there a particular ride you want to get on?” Raven looked up to find Damian looking through the park’s map. “We have three hours till the park closes.” He then added.

“Um… there’s that new rollercoaster Gar mentioned, we can do that?” Raven suggested, she put her drink down and she scooted her chair closer to his to take a peek at the park’s map and schedule. She found an event that would be good to end their most awkward night. “And there’s a firework show happening at midnight we can watch that… if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Damian added gently, without even realisng it Raven had rested her head onto his shoulder. Raven looked up, to see his emerald eyes looking down warmly at her. Raven had never noticed how green his eyes had been or how they seem to almost glow. She could feel her own face start to flushed, she quickly sat up and took the final sips from her drink.

Damian stood up and went to throw away their trash, he then returned extending his hand towards her. Raven took it but she couldn’t help but look away from him as her face grew hotter when Damian tighten his grip. He gently pulled her and the two started walking towards the rollercoaster. Was this it? She questioned herself, would her spun her around spontaneously and crushed his lips onto hers? No Damian wouldn’t do that, deep down she could feel he wanted to respect her and give her all the time she needed. Damian would act like a complete jerk to the team sometimes but underneath the bad boy act he was kind. Raven had seen it first hand.

Screams of terror were heard from above, she looked up as a speeding coaster whooshed by very quickly. From this point she saw two loops and a few spiraling twists. The ride looked amazing. Raven felt all giddy and before she knew what she was doing she gave Damian a big smile and pull him towards the ride’s entrance.

“I am glad to see you smiling and enjoying yourself.” Damian said in between huffs after the ride. They both had screamed their lungs out and now they were out of breath. “I couldn’t help but notice you’ve seemed distant all night.”

“I am not good with all this, it’s new to me and I just want to- I don’t know make it memorable for you as it’s for me.

“Raven, you accepting my invitation is most memorable for me, these past few hours with you have been amazing. Shall we continue?” Raven could only smile and take his hand once again.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

The night was nearing to an end, the fireworks were about to start, Damian had gotten them on a Ferris wheel before the show. Damian had even given a generous tip to the ride operator to have the ride stalled for when the fireworks started. They sat their together, awkwardly glancing around. This made Raven remember the first time they had share a ride on a Ferris wheel. From the corner of her eyes, Raven noticed Damian hand was trying to reach for hers while he looked away.

Raven could see his cheeks start to flush, she smiled as she reached and took his hand in hers. She looked up into the night sky and saw the full moon radiate of its silver glow. She turned her head and saw Damian was also looking up to the sky. That’s when it all made sense to her.

Raven let go of his hand, Damian turned looking at her with a lifted brow. She leaned in and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his very loud beating heart.

“I have feeling for you too, Damian Wayne.”

Raven couldn’t help but let out a deep sigh as she buried her face into his hard chest. As Damian wrapped both his arms around her, holding her tight against him. She felt silly to think she was dreading this night at the start, but now here in his arms Raven felt nothing but peace consumed her very soul. It made all sense now, when she and her friends imprisoned her father Raven had felt she couldn’t have a home anymore. That she would have to live out her days in Trigon’s hellish dimension, all alone. Then Damian came, in her darkest moment he brought a small speck of light that warmed Raven’s world. Damian Wayne brought her home, he was home.

Raven was content and she couldn’t stop the tears streaming down her face as the night starry sky was illuminated with thousands of fireworks. But she couldn’t see them, all Raven could see was Damian. Carefully Raven slipped her hands up to cradle his face, she smiled and pulled him in for their first kiss.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

A/N: This was the second prompt that was requested. Feel free to send me any prompts ideas you may have though my next plan is to update the next parts to “First Impressions” and “Under an Autumn Moonlight” afterwards share the first two chapters to a longer Damirae fic (aprox. 15-20 chapters). So I have lots to write and I am very excited to share with you all what I have envisioned in my brain! Till next time!

~~S.Rose

#damirae #damirae fan #tumblr request #demonbirds #Damian Wayne #raven roth #damian x raven #i had too much fun with this #hope you enjoy #dc fanfic #fanfic writer #happy valentine's day 2021

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sky-scribbles · 4 years

Text

Party banter with Inquisitor Essek

(Because this ridiculous crossover has taken over my life. A brief explanation, as much as explanation is possible: a mis-cast spell has yote a post-campaign Essek through a planar rift and into Thedas, and he happened to land in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. These banters go up to the destruction of Haven, which is why Cole isn’t here - but he will be in later instalments!)

Cassandra: Leliana has found no information about you. Not a thing. Essek: Considering that most mages are met with disgust and imprisonment, it would be... imprudent of me to advertise my presence. Cassandra: Living in secrecy is one thing. Leaving no mark on the world at all is another. Essek: And you would prefer, I think, for all my secrets to be at your disposal. Cassandra: Are you surprised that I suspect you have something to hide? Essek: Is hostile intent the only possible reason for secrecy, Seeker?

Solas: It would appear that your mark is affecting you physically, Herald. Essek: My hand was not green before, no. Solas: Aside from the obvious. While I tended to you after the conclave, you did not always seem to be asleep. At times, you lapsed into true unconsciousness. At other times, you seemed to trance, half-sleeping. Essek: Ah. Yes. I suppose... the connection to the Fade has altered the way I sleep. I find I can enter these trances at will, as a substitute for sleep. Solas: That is fascinating. The ancient elves could enter an endless dream called uthenera. Perhaps this is a related phenomenon. Essek: So one would assume.

Essek: So, Sera. I was going through my research notes - Sera: [Sniggering] Essek: And I found that they had been expertly illustrated. Sera: That's what your weird rifty timey magic shite needs. All the butts. Essek: They certainly add interest. Although... that drawing of me closing a rift full of demon butts? You should have shaped my cloak so that it looked like a dick. Sera: [laughs] Like a dick! You're all right, Herald Weirdyhand. Essek: And you are quite the jester.

Varric: How is it you can just walk around pitch-black caves without a problem? Don’t tell me you're part-dwarf and it's stone-sense. Essek: Ah, no. I would assume it is yet another change from the mark. Varric: So this thing lets you fix the sky, and it's a free torch? Who knew that being Andraste's chosen came with a multi-purpose toolkit? Essek: There is no evidence for my being chosen by anything other than political convenience. Varric: You’re not crazy about the whole Herald business, are you? Essek: About people deciding that I am the mouthpiece of an unproven god who does not speak to anyone, and yet whose name and teachings people use as an excuse for war and conquest, without investigating the truth behind those teachings? No. I am not.

Blackwall: So what does an apostate do, if he's on his own for... I don't know, how many years? Essek: Arcane research, mostly. Why, what does a Grey Warden do when he's on his own for however many years? Blackwall: Kill darkspawn. Recruit for the Wardens. Kill more darkspawn. Essek: And your fellow Wardens do not accompany you? Blackwall: You don't need more than one person to say 'how do you feel about fighting darkspawn for the rest of your life?' Essek: Did you... ever find yourself becoming lonely, in your solitude? Blackwall: I... sometimes, I suppose. Never gave much thought to it. Easier that way. Essek: Mm. I know the feeling.

Dorian: So you think Alexius’s perception of time was fundamentally flawed? Essek: I do. Time is not a straight line, through which one can jump ahead, skip back and rub bits out. Dorian: How would you have done it differently? Aside from the whole ‘conjure a world infested with red lyrium and catastrophe’ part. Essek: Imagine time as a branching thing. Every choice we make causes potential timelines to fade into non-existence. Essek: But their potential remains, waiting to be tapped. Alexius should have attempted to manifest a timeline in which I was never here, rather than removing me from this one. Dorian: Well, don’t tell everybody how to make it work. Wouldn’t want them to get ideas. Though perhaps you’d like to compare notes, later? Essek: I... would like that.

Vivienne: You carry yourself remarkably well, Herald. Almost like nobility. Essek: Only 'almost'? I shall have to try harder. Vivienne: And despite your youth, you deflect personal inquiries with the deftness of a seasoned player of the Game. Quite remarkable, from a hedge mage. Essek: I'm mildly curious: 'hedge mage'? Vivienne: A self-taught mage, dear. One who has gone without the instruction of a Circle, or even a Dalish clan. If you ever require tuition, I am at your disposal. Essek: I’m sure you are. But I am not especially interested in whatever you think you have to teach.

Sera: You’re proper weird, you are. You go all swanny around the noble piss-bags, all smiles and pretty words like Lady Josie, but you put teeth in it, like Vivvy. Essek: Like Vivienne? I should hope not. Sera: And then you screw the nobs over like Josie does, ‘cept she makes them love her for it and you make them scared. Leliana kind of scared. Essek: When people don’t know you, or what to make of you, they fear you. It makes them... malleable. It’s something I’ve learned to use. As has Leliana, it would seem.

Varric: You doing all right, Smiles? Essek: 'Smiles'? An intriguing choice. Varric: Same reasoning as Iron Lady and Sparkler. Meet as many messes as I have, and you get good at spotting masks. Essek: Indeed? Varric: You fell out of the sky, got attacked by a shit ton of demons and put in charge of an army, and never once stopped smiling. Kind of impressive, actually. Essek: Thank you. Varric: Also, creepy as shit.

Solas: I'm curious about your name, Herald. Essek: My name? It's Essek. Sera: [laughs] Solas: I meant that it isn't elven, though your family name sounds very like it. Solas: ‘Thelyss’. I wonder if it is is a result of syllables from the name 'Lethallas' being lost and altered over the years. It means, 'a gift to one's kin.' Essek: Ha. Solas: You don't find that likely? Essek: Me being a gift to my kin? Highly unlikely.

Iron Bull: So, boss, what do you make of my guys? Essek: They clearly have an array of talents. Iron Bull: Oh, come on. I didn't ask for what the Herald thought of his new recruits, I asked what you make of my guys. Essek: Very well. They are... unusual. Enthusiastic. I think that some would underestimate them, some would be thrown off-balance by them, and many would do both. Iron Bull: Ha. Yeah, we like to keep people guessing. Essek: I like them. They are... lively.

Sera: I don’t get it. You can screw over noble shite-faces without being scary. And you’re not scary! I know you and you’re not scary, so why be scary? Essek: Well, I don’t find you scary either, Sera. But I’m sure our enemies do, when they’re on the wrong end of your arrows. Sera: That’s different things, though. I learned arrows because arrows mean nobs are dead and I’m not. Essek: Exactly. Like you, I have had to fight for survival in my own ways. And unlike you, for a long time, I was without friends. Sera: So... you learned how to do scary because you’re scared? Essek: I would say more... aware of potential dangers. Sera: So, scared.

Solas: As for your first name, the final syllable is not even a sound that occurs in elven. Is it Qunlat? One of your parents is Qunari, I assume? Essek: Ah. Yes, of course. Solas: So it is Qunlat? Iron Bull: Nah, that’s not Qunlat, whatever it is. Almost sounds like it, though. Kinda like ‘isskari’. Name for Ben-Hassrath who get hold of weird magic crap. Essek: Oddly appropriate. But since I'm not in contact with my family, the truth shall have to remain a mystery.

Blackwall: Are you all right, Herald? Essek: Fine, thank you. I simply have somewhat sensitive eyes and skin, and it is a very bright day. Blackwall: If you need to stop, I could... I don’t know. Hold a shield over your head? Essek: I appreciate it, but no, thank you. It is tolerable. Blackwall: Didn’t meant to offend. Essek: It is all right. I - [sighs] I apologise. That would help, if you could. Years of solitude have made me... reliant on my own self-reliance, I suppose. Blackwall: I know what you mean. Shield parasol it is, then.

Sera: Don’t need to be scared, right? Anyone gives you shit, I give ‘em arrows. Or just pies. Or worms in their shoes. Essek: [chuckles] Thank you, Sera. Please do. Sera: Did think you were scary at first, you know. Essek: What changed your mind? Sera: Scary wouldn’t grin when I drew butts on things. Essek: ... Are you at all fond of cupcakes, Sera?

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #critical role #inquisitor!essek #essek thelyss #is a lying liar who lies. but he's trying his best #his relationship with vivienne will improve i swear #sky's writing

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wolf-and-bard · 3 years

Text

Resigned To Fate

Prompt: Memory Alteration / Gaslighting

Relationships: Guxart/Vesemir (from one of the witcher-centric cards), Lambert/Aiden (background)

Rating: M

Content Warnings: heavy angst, suicidal tendencies, grief, mild gore, self-harm allusions

Summary: In the aftermath of the betrayal of the Cat school, Vesemir has not only his own school to hold together, but also a traumatised lover to care for. In which: Vesemir is strong and Guxart is weak and they find it hard to meet in the middle.

Word Count: ~2k

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Witchers survive.

Witchers endure.

Witchers outlast.

No matter the tragedy that befalls them or how difficult the contract. When they're being persecuted and beaten, starved and denied basic human decency. There's always a way forward.

Survive. Endure. Outlast.

Those are the thoughts Vesemir clings to, each sentiment falling as a whisper from his cracked and splintered lips to puddle at his blood- and gut-soaked feet, each word accompanied by the low wheeze of his shovel penetrating dry earth.

He couldn't fight for them, has to bury them. All of them.

He doesn't cry like the pups do, they haven't yet understood.

This is no genocide. This is merely a manifestation of what has been a long time coming, a natural course of history.

Vesemir cradles that truth tight to his chest. He survives, endures, outlasts. It's his birthright, duty, privilege, honour, burden, curse, cure, calling, punishment. It's a law of nature, the first one the new recruits learn when coming to the keep.

Nothing breaks Vesemir.

II.

When the wolves all sleep, the living in bed rolls pushed together in the great hall, the dead in their forever resting places of hard-packed dirt, the new day is already sloshing over the horizon in waves of muted scarlet. Vesemir finds no beauty in that, he doesn't think he will find any beauty in and around Kaer Morhen ever again. All that was tranquil about this place has been soaked in blood and so, it seems, has the sky. He fills a pack with their sorry dinner's leftovers - stale bread, hard cheese, dried berries - foregoes the soup and the spirits. Two deerskins of water and a faded quilt blanket. It smells like cinnamon and honey, like comfort he hopes. It's not cold enough to warrant any kind of coat yet, but halfway across the courtyard, Vesemir finds himself shivering. He unpacks the blanket and wraps it around his own shoulders, then briskly walks out of the keep's enclosures, the sun a cool caress on his stained cheeks. He's never hated her more than in that moment.

III.

She follows him even into the dingy half-dark of the outpost's only bedroom. The curtains are drawn, the room lit by a single artificial torch, but Vesemir finds another echo of the red horizon in Guxart's eyes as they meet his across the few paces that separate them. Seeing him is somehow still a bit of a surprise.

Guxart doesn't look haggard and wrung-out the way Vesemir knows he himself does. In the wake of their shared misery - the imprisonment, the wait, the release to find their schools in ruin and their charges mostly dead or mutilated - Vesemir aged a century while Guxart is frozen in time, barely more than a shell of the witcher Vesemir begrudgingly fell in love with.

His salt-and-pepper hair falls in curls just below his ears and his greyed beard looks freshly groomed, obscuring the permanent tremble of his lips, pressed together to contain the creature of mourning that grows in his chest. His slitted pupils are constantly thin so that they nearly drown in the red hue of his irises. There are but two things about Guxart that have changed in their trudge through agony - in physicality that is. He is pale now - almost as pale as Vesemir, who always used to look like a wraith next to Guxart's light-brown skin - and his voice has lost all its natural thunder. A husk, yes. But not irrevocably so.

Guxart may be broken, but Vesemir is barely more than cracked and he can hold it together for the two of them.

"Ves," Guxart croaks from his perch on the bed and Vesemir doesn't pretend like this is a happy meeting. He draws the door shut behind himself and opens the curtains with a precise blast of Aard. The light that filters in is grimy still and Guxart turns his back on it. It's the only thing he can do. In an act of protection, born from love, Vesemir had to shackle Guxart's wrists and ankles, just so the other witcher wouldn't hurt himself. Last time, Vesemir was nearly too late and that is not something he will stand to experience again. It's a precarious arrangement, temporary, but Vesemir didn't know how else to help either Guxart of himself. Bringing him to the keep would have been certain death for them both.

"I brought food."

"I'm not hungry."

Vesemir puts the pack down by the window and slips out of his boots, then crawls up on the bed and drapes the quilt over both their legs. The sight of it puts his gut in a twist.

This is where he used to let go. Relax his shoulders and drop the teacher, the torturer. Just be. Guxart gave that to him and he to Guxart. Had he any imagination, he would let his head fall to the brick behind himself and close his eyes, imagine it's just another morning after a night spent tangled up in each other, relishing dawn's kiss and each other's presence.

Vesemir is exceptionally bad at self-delusion.

"Will you have water?" he asks. Guxart shakes his head, remaining in his strained position, even when Vesemir jerks his chin to the side in an invitation to sidle up to him.

Guxart, for his part, is exceptionally bad at accepting love and pain at the same time.

"I'm not thirsty."

"Fine," Vesemir replies and they look at each other. It's not a staring contest like they sometimes held across the training fields when their students were locked in combat. It's searching for some remnant of joy and coming up short.

"There's dirt under your nails," Guxart murmurs without breaking the eye contact. "You buried them."

"I did."

"Mine also?"

"They took them back to the Camp."

Vesemir can still hear the hisses of cats, wolves, and swords alike as the witchers collected the bodies of their fallen comrades to separate and honour them. Vesemir suspects that what he feels for Guxart will be the last love ever lost between the two schools.

"It's all my fault."

"Come here," Vesemir says, keeping his tone levelled, understanding. He opens his arms a fraction, a more blatant invitation.

Finally, Guxart slumps against Vesemir, a heaving dead weight. Vesemir brings his arms around Guxart and presses his face into his curls. He finds little comfort there and lots of reminders to all that he lost at the hands of Treyse and Radowit's damned mage. Guxart presses into Vesemir with all the strength his restrained body can muster. They don't fit together quite so well anymore.

"They gave me a choice," Guxart says. "They gave me a choice."

"What choice?" Vesemir asks, mouth dry. He blinks rapidly as he rubs soothing circles over Guxart's sharp shoulder blades. In a moment here, he will have to think about how to feed the other witcher against his will, a painstaking process. Why keep at it?

Because he has to.

Nothing breaks Vesemir.

"They took me away one night," Guxart continues. "When you were asleep. They took me away and told me how I was to arrange it. Their death sentence. And they gave me a choice."

"What. Choice."

"They said they would spare them. All of them, all of our beautiful pups and kittens. They said if I throttled you, they wouldn't make me act out the treaty. It's why we were put in the same cell after that first week."

No such thing happened.

Vesemir knows.

He feared for their schools during their time in Radowit's dungeons, but his mind was sharp always, awake and waiting. Even then, he knew of Guxart's tendencies to slip from reality into madness fashioned by others. A consequence of the meddled-with cat mutagens perhaps, or a personal disposition. Doesn't matter. What does is that Vesemir was awake in the cell opposite - never sharing, never touching - watching his lover pass from one fever dream into the next as they kept him drugged, whispering to him, sentiments Vesemir himself managed to deflect when the guards - or his own mind - threw them at him.

This is your fault.

You brought this upon them, mutant scum.

They will die for your sins.

Nothing. Breaks. Vesemir.

"A lie," Vesemir sighs and presses his lips to Guxart's scalp. The other witcher shudders and the worst part about this is that he knows they will have this conversation again. And again. And each time, Guxart will believe a little less.

"They were our children, Ves. They were our children and I betrayed them. Traded their life for yours. If you had been given the same choice, would you have been strong enough?"

They both know the answer to that. If it had been between Guxart and his wolves, Vesemir wouldn't have hesitated to kill his lover. But that is entirely beside the point.

"There was never such a choice and what happened is not your fault."

"But it is. My fault. I spared you. And then I went on to kill them all. Treyse, he tried to stop me once we got out, but I gave the command anyway. We could have stood together, could have flattened all Kaedwen to dust, but I was greedy. I wanted you and the reward. I wanted... I wanted..."

Nothing ever. Breaks...

"You're talking nonsense. We were only released after the massacre took place, remember? Treyse was the one to commit treason, he gave that command."

"I have to die," Guxart says numbly. He doesn't listen now and his bound hands paw at Vesemir's thighs. "I have to die. You have to kill me."

"No."

"Please, I cannot live with this pain. Knowing it was all my fault, I cannot... how can you?"

Vesemir closes his eyes. Nothing. Nothing has yet broken him.

IV.

There is no containing Guxart forever. Vesemir knows this, Guxart knows this.

He waits, tends to his lover until such a time that he feels he's coaxed Guxart away from the brink of self-destruction at least. At the end, most of what hangs between them is fatigue and resentment, indistinguishable from the scraps of nostalgic affection they yet harbour. Vesemir does not remember what it felt like to love without care. He has to let go.

"I'm sorry, Ves," Guxart says when it's time to part, a whisper over Vesemir's lips in what will likely be their last ever kiss. "I know you mean well, but I cannot believe you. I have to repent."

There is no penance for a crime uncommitted. The only forgiveness you should want for is mine once you leave me here to grief on my own. You will wander and you will weaken and you will wither. Nothing will break me like you will, the moment you fade from sight.

Vesemir bites down on these thoughts. They're silly, selfish, and he is neither.

"Take care of yourself."

Guxart nods and turns and walks away.

And Vesemir doesn't break.

Decades pass.

Vesemir fixes up whatever fissures did sneak up on him, he remains whole, he moves on.

Guxart may be out there, he may not. Vesemir will never know what fate Guxart has resigned himself to and that is acceptable.

It is acceptable.

Until the day Lambert comes home, announcing that he has given and lost his heart to a young cat by name of Aiden. He howls through the night and Vesemir holds him, the way he himself needed to be held back then perhaps, and he understands that all the glue he has been applying to his own heart was a sorry fake.

Vesemir has been broken for a long, long time.

And once he accepts that, he feels the years fall off his shoulders like leaves from an old tree, preparing for another winter. Possibly its last.

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seventfics · 3 years

Photo

Blind Owl

Written for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Prompt: Temporary or permanent blindness Relationships: Triss Merigold/Philippa Eilhart Rating: M Content Warnings: None (Mild Gore, Blood and Injury) Summary: It's hard, but Triss finds a way to help Philippa.

Read on AO3

* * *

“Philippa.”

At the mention of her name the sorceress turns, her head held high. Too high, Triss notes, to be facing her directly.

The edges of the blindfold over Philippa’s eyes are stained red.

“Triss. I must say, of all the things that have happened today? I didn’t expect to meet you.”

Triss quirks a smile at her. “Disappointed?”

“No, never,” she says with a graceful wave of her dirtied hand. “Surprised. I overheard that all the mages had dipped from Novigrad. I should have known you would stay behind.”

“I wasn’t going to, to be honest. Geralt convinced me.”

“Yes, he’s good at that, isn’t he?”

Triss’ portal had taken them from Sigi Reuven’s bathhouse to her small room at the Rosemary and Thyme. It’s not her room, really, but a kindness of Geralt’s friends, and one she immediately took up. Better than the Bits, where she lived in tight quarters on a lopsided building. Now she has actual furniture she picked herself, a full bed that can support her weight without sinking, and a lock on her door. It is much more to her liking.

Philippa would hate her decor, if she could see it. They’ve always had different taste in furniture.

“Circumstances aside…I’m glad you’re with us, Phil.”

Philippa hums. She walks the room carefully, a hand tense with magic held forward to sense for objects. “And what are the circumstances, exactly?”

From her pocket, Triss brings out an agate.

“Geralt stumbled upon this, some time ago.” The stone glimmers from old traces of Philippa’s magic. “You want the Lodge back together. Well, so do we.”

“Ah. Our interests align.”

Though she is blind, Philippa props herself neatly on the lone bed’s edge as Triss explains the looming threat of the Wild Hunt. In all things she is flawless artistry. Her hands cross over a hip, as she lifts her legs to lounge over Triss’ bed—and oh, how familiar, the sight of her like that. It distracts her mid-speech more than once.

“In my state,” she drawls, gesturing to her blindfold, “I am not much help.”

Triss is less artful, but just as coquette with her lilting voice. “You are, Philippa,” and more seriously, she adds, “You were the best of us.”

“Quite. You understand that this is a matter most crucial for the survival of magic.”

After a moment’s pause, Philippa sits upright against the half a dozen pillows Triss hoards at the back. She presses a hand to her temples, sighing as if displeased by something.

It is the closest sign she’s going to give to her exhaustion. Her pain.

Triss’ heart aches to help. But Philippa is proud. She is strong on her own, and protective of that right. She would not accept an ounce of pity nor mercy, no matter how well-intended.

Years of her acquaintance have taught Triss how to work around that.

“We need you at your best. Phil,” she says, sitting by the weary sorceress to take one of her hands between her own.

Philippa tilts her head up then. Again, too high, and slightly left of Triss’ ear.

“Tell me what I can do.”

* * *

The wet stones under her fingertips harbor the cells of Philippa’s experiment. It’s grotesque, she knows. Some sections have grown beyond control, eye-masses with mutated pupils, multiple irises, some even larger than a megascope’s crystal. But as Philippa does her best rebuilding the Lodge, reforming allyships, and planning the Wild Hunt’s defeat, Triss must do this unpleasant work. For Philippa.

She nearly slips and falls down to her doom twice. The stones are at such a precarious altitude, at a precise distance from the cavern waterfall to promote cell growth without washing off the results. What was Philippa thinking? Growing eyes in such a dangerous place?

But here she is, carefully extracting the cells from the stone with her magic. She suspends them in a sterile magic seal, to store in her purse. For some reason, that makes her laugh, a sound that echoes back to her ears three times. She has Philippa’s eyes in her bag. Philippa’s beautiful eyes that had been gouged out by an angry and paranoid king. The amber of them is now indistinguishable from moss.

There is no time to rest between quests, and yet, once she is finished gathering the most that she can, Triss climbs to safer ground on shaky hands and knees, needing a second to breathe. Just a second. She cannot spare more than that to mourn, or cry, or remember how Phil used to tease her with just a stare and a raised brow.

It will be fine.

She will have new eyes. They won’t be the same, but Philippa won’t care. It’s just Triss who needs a second.

Back when they were a powerful Lodge of Sorceresses, and not the tattered survivors of imprisonment and war, Triss had mooned over the proud advisor to the crown of Redania. She didn’t make her attention obvious, but nothing goes under Philippa’s notice. The woman had made herself friends among spies and, like in all things, absorbed some of their skills.

They spent many nights in each other’s company. Sometimes, it was just to forget the cruelty of war, the greedy men who broke what they could not claim. Triss was lucky to be considered important. A sorceress has more worth as a power to be wielded than a woman to be abused.

And after the Battle on Sodden Hill, Triss had little trust in men.

Maybe that’s why she started this...liaison. And maybe it had been a shallow, poor excuse at first, but. Somewhere between disillusionment and distraction, her heart stole away in the owl’s nest of Philippa’s making.

“Do you think one day we could be happy?”

With a single candle to illuminate the room, Triss braves the words. This world is not made for them to find happiness, but they are powerful. They could make it so.

Philippa doesn’t move from her limp, careless spread over silk red sheets. The dim firelight paints her skin bronze. Nothing covers her, and it is beautiful.

“Happiness has never been my dream,” she says, her back to Triss. “My vision remains on the future of the Northern Kingdoms and the conservation of magic. A sorceress’ dream.”

That is Philippa. Sturdy. Focused. Her hedonist streak is a sparse creature, easily ignored.

Still, Triss hopes. That is who she is.

A long pause ebbs the nervousness buried in Triss’ chest. No one disturbs them, which is rare. No megascope call. No xenovox. No letter from either of the kings they serve.

Triss nearly dozes off, warm and content with things, when she hears a quiet, “Do you see me, in your dream of peace and leisure?”

“I do.”

She opens her eyes to the jostle of movement. Philippa has finally turned around to stare at her, her dark hair a wild fan over her shoulders and breast.

“Perhaps,” she says as she brings up fingers to play with the loose fire-red strands over Triss’ ear, “perhaps one of us should keep that possibility in our mind.”

* * *

“Ah, you’ve returned.”

The surprise lilt in Philippa’s voice tells her that she did not expect Triss so soon. She understood the hard undertaking of retrieving her growing eye cells from the deepest caves of her most secret hideout.

But where Philippa is clever, Triss is eager. Of course she would go as quickly as possible. The Wild Hunt does not wait. The witch hunters of Novigrad will not cease their chase. There is no time to be dallying.

“Well darling, hand them here," Philippa starts, her palms opened to receive Triss' hard-earned work, "so I can get to the matter of fusing them in.”

“Let me.”

She pauses at the plea. If she had eyes, Triss imagines she would have blinked.

But it’s only a short lapse in time, her mind running through a million scenarios.

Eventually, she nods, deeming the offer acceptable. “If you insist. But do not take too long, I hear our brave witcher is to return soon with our esteemed Cirilla, and I have much to talk with her about the future of our Lodge.”

Slowly, Philippa undoes her blindfold, unknowingly as Triss goes to kneel in front of her.

She does flinch at the sight. It is a nasty healing wound, dark and sunken where eyes should be. The skin around the sockets is black. But her own chest, glamored to hide snarled skin, bares worse scars from battle.

The cells take time to transfer from her purse, and they are not yet fully nurtured. They will have to grow into place. With Philippa’s magic to amplify sight, it would be enough to maneuver buildings and streets on her own. It is not by any means a perfect resolve.

Triss puts great care in choosing the healthiest cells. She tries not to cause too much discomfort—any sort of magical procedure that modifies the body would be painful, at the very least uncomfortable—but if it is unbearable, Philippa bears it.

When the last sliver of magic dissipates, Philippa voices a tense but honest, “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”

There, still knelt between pale thighs and gazing up at the newly-healed flesh around mossy eyes, Philippa kisses her.

A wound Triss did not know she still had in her heart opens. Fresh blood pounds through her body like a blaze set free on a forest. It burns, the kiss like a match against her lips, and the world narrows down to them, now, together after everything. Her arms cannot hold onto Phil any harder as she kisses back with all her being. All her fire and pain and love that never waned.

When they separate, Phil whispers, “Do you still see me in your dream of the future?” like a secret that should not be named in fear of shattering it.

“I do.” They don’t have time to second-guess their dreams or the choices that got them closer to achieving them. Just a second is all they can spare, to doubt.

One day, Triss hopes they can finally stop running, stop fighting, scheming, surviving, and simply be.

It will be fine.

They stay in each other’s arms, breathing each other’s air. Philippa’s fingertip lingers above Triss’ lip, almost playful in its upwards tug. This time, when Triss stands up and Phil raises her head, it feels like she is looking at her.

“Well, then we better stop this world-ending business first.”

Triss gives her a smile through her eyes.

One day.

#merihart #triss x philippa #rarepair summer bingo #myfics #tt

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rjhpandapaws · 3 years

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Something Familiar

Chapter 2: Lessons in Good Faith Tw: PTSD and mentions of torture and death

Living with Daniel was a lesson in many things. A lesson in patience, trust, and it was a constant trial in checking is biases. Daniel was one of the few good humans, and Silas’s fear still ran unchecked. He knew it would take time to work through all of his baggage, and that Daniel was willing to wait. The thing was that Silas wanted to trust him, but couldn’t because there was still too much in the way. Daniel had even given him space after they sealed the contract. Silas bore the mark of it on the inside of his left wrist. A small circle of red, yellow, and blue lining. Daniel had the same on his left wrist as well. It marked them as equals, but it still felt like imprisonment to Silas. He was grateful for the week alone though. It gave him time to get used to his human shape again. He spent a lot of his time on the upstairs balcony watching the world go by with out him. Being outside like this was something he hadn’t been able to do for years. He would have preferred to change shape and wander, maybe even fly; but he was still on the mend and under strict orders not to shift unless it was an emergency. Daniel wasn’t here to stop him. He could have run away, and yet he stayed. Like a good Familiar.

When Daniel came back Silas’s private moments gained a witness, and his nightmares gained an exit. Daniel was always gentle when he woke Silas. He made sure he was genuinely awake and then let him come back to the real world on his own. He would offer to listen and Silas would always turn him down. There were nights that were worse. Nights when he didn’t dream, but remembered. The sleep he got was always more restful on those nights, but waking up always hurt worse. He woke up buried under the weight of all the things he should have done; could have done if he was a better person. On these mornings the only thing he wanted was space to think. So he would quietly make himself coffee and head up to the balcony. Daniel always came up eventually, and he usually brought breakfast with him. He would set the tray down on the small glass table and take a moment to observe Silas. He never said was he was looking for, but Silas assumed he found it because he would go back inside after a while. As a healer it wasn’t in Daniel’s nature to leave things alone, but he seemed to understand that Silas needed time to himself every once in a while. It was something Silas was grateful for. Someday he would let Daniel in, he deserved to know what he had gotten stuck with.

He woke suddenly from a dead sleep and sighed. He could still see Connor clearly in his mind, the fear in his eyes as they were separated almost felt accusing now. He should have stayed. He should have done a lot of things, but he was a coward and ran away instead. Silas got up with a practiced silence and started on his coffee. The house was still dark, but he had the kitchen layout memorized. By the time his coffee was ready he could use the early rays of dawn to make it up to the balcony. Today was going to be long and painful. He leaned against the front railing of the balcony to watch the sunrise and let his thoughts run loose with him. If he got it out of his system now, then maybe he could be something close to composed by the time Daniel came up to check on him. So for now, he would let himself remember. They were good things at first. His childhood, play fighting with his brothers. Learning the importance of the ancient magic they carried with them. The rush of freedom that came from knowing a thought was all it took to become any creature he wanted. The sacred bind that came with choosing a patron mage. There was a complexity that came with choosing to be a Familiar. It was a bond based on sharing strength and it lasted a lifetime. Different from a contract.

He remembered the day everything changed. The day the world as he understood it would come to an end. It was a normal day, he and his brothers woke up and did their chores, but never made it back to the house. Traps had been set in the night and each of them fell victim to one. He remembered waking up in the dark and in pain, surrounded by everyone from his village. All of them had been taken. They were given a week to recover and adjust to their new life before the Conditioning started. Each of them was branded with a unique number. Something that could be used to find them in the event that one of them escaped. The ones that the Conditioning worked on disappeared. Bought by mages that believed them to be Creature Familiars. Those who didn’t take to the Conditioning were tortured until they broke. It went on like this until their anger finally outweighed their fear. Their revolt; if it could really even be called that; was a failure in Silas’s opinion. So many of them had died. Freedom for the few of them that had made it out was paid for in the blood of those who hadn’t. Silas had taken his new freedom and run to the nearest mage. Signed it away in exchange for survival. Even if Daniel saw them as equals; Silas had still done the exact thing they had fought so hard to be freed from. He would have almost rather having died. Almost.

He could feel Daniel’s eyes on him and had the feeling he wasn’t going to be able to get out of this one without talking. He knew Daniel wouldn’t ask outright, but would linger until Silas said something. It Gave the illusion that he had other options; but if he wanted to be alone he would have to say something. “There were three of us, you know, that made it out.” He began and did what he could to keep the emotion out of his voice, “Me and then two of my brothers. I lost them in our mad dash to get out, and now I don’t know if they’re even alive.” He tried to blink away his tears, but they only rolled down his cheeks instead, “After everything we’d been through; I couldn’t be bothered to stay. I ran away like a fucking coward and sold myself out in a desperate bid to survive. Some fucking brother I am.” Daniel was quiet for a long while. This was the most Silas had ever ‘willingly’ said to him. “In a few weeks you’ll be healed enough to handle mildly strenuous activity.” He said eventually, “We could go looking for them if you would like.” Cold heavy dread settled in the pit of Silas’s stomach, “Why?” He snapped, “So you can add them to your collection? So you can have the complete set of the last shapeshifters known to man?”

“No.” Daniel replied sharply, “So you can have some damn closure and a place to stay once the contract is up. I actually want you to be safe, believe it or not.” Silas flinched. He knew Daniel wasn’t the same as the other humans he had dealt with, but he was still afraid. He set down his mug of long forgotten coffee and breathed out a defeated sigh. It was too early in the morning for a fight. On top of that, Daniel hadn’t done anything to deserve this. The contract was a means of protecting him. He understood that. “I’m sorry. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, and yet I still fear completely offering you my trust.” He said after the silence had long since grown uncomfortable, “You may very well be the only human with my best interests at heart and I keep pushing you away.” He took a deep breath and tuned to face Daniel, “I’ll think about it, but that is asking a lot of faith from me; and for now, I think I would rather be alone.” Daniel looked away from him and his shoulders slumped, “I understand.” His voice was almost level, but hurt lingered just beneath the surface, “I’ll be in the house if you need me.” Silas watched him leave and wondered if he should have been gentler. It wasn’t Daniel’s fault he’d gone through all that, but he had nothing else to do with all his anger. Burying it clearly hadn’t helped.

He picked through the food Daniel had brought up for him and tried to gather himself a little more. Daniel didn’t deserve to bear the brunt of his anger. He wasn’t responsible for what was done to him. He was the only person that was trying to help. The least Silas could do was give him the results he wanted. Even if they were fake. Time to see if he could even manage to be a convincing liar. The sooner he seemed well, the sooner he could get out of here. He didn’t know where he would go, yet, but he was sure he would find his place eventually. On top of that Daniel wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore. He could go back to whatever it was he had been doing before Silas had come crashing into his life. It was late in the day when Silas had gathered enough of himself back together to handle being around another person. He didn’t say anything to Daniel when he came back; because he looked busy, and because he simply didn’t feel like it. He got to work on the dishes so he would have less to do later in the evening. “I’m sorry Silas.” Daniel broke the silence after a while, “For this morning. It was insensitive and out of line.”

The laugh that hitched and bubbled it’s way out of his chest was bitter and humorless. It surprised him, this was the first time he had laughed in years. “Was it?” He asked coolly, “Are you rescinding your offer to help me find my only remaining relatives then?” “Well, no.” Daniel scrambled, “I just; I wanted you to know that I meant no offense by it.” He explained and Silas relaxed some, “I feel like I’ve messed something up, and I want to know how I can fix it. I hate seeing you so upset.” “It’s a matter of learning to trust you.” He said and looked down at his hands, “My whole life up until now has been spent in fear of humans. I just have to keep in mind that you haven’t posed a danger to me yet. Sorry for being so... defensive, I guess would be the word.” “You’re alright.” He replied kindly, “These things take time. Even at that, you have a lot of trauma to work through and-” “Daniel stop.” Silas interrupted, “I need someone to listen to me, not psychoanalyze me. Believe me, I am well aware of all my trauma and the power imbalance of our dynamic. I really don’t need the reminder.” “Right.” He agreed with a sharp nod, “It can be difficult to turn my doctor off sometimes.”

“I understand.” Silas replied as he leaned against the counter to face Daniel, “It’s the only way people will acknowledge you, so it has become your primary mode of existing.” He watched with mild amusement as Daniel’s jaw dropped, “You’re more than that to me, you know. You’re the closest thing to a friend I’ve had actually.” “First of all, ow.” He said with a laugh and put his hand over his heart, “Secondly, what happened to not psychoanalyzing each other? I’m glad you think of me as a friend though.” Silas smiled, and it felt strange after not having done so for so long, “I figured that you’ve done it to me enough times that I deserved a turn.” “Fair enough.” Daniel replied as he began to put his things away. “How many weeks?” Silas asked once his curiosity got the better of him, “Until we can leave?” He was quiet for a long while before he replied, “Six, if you mind your limitations; eight to twelve if you keep ignoring them like this.” His smile fell away, “That was a lot more than I was hoping for.” Daniel just shrugged, “You’ve been stubborn. Agitating your old injuries and coming back from your little excursions with new ones. You need to rest.”

“Fine.” He said as he made his way to the bookshelf to go through the travelers’ guides, “I’ll be a better patient from here on out.” He settled on his bed with the books he had grabbed, “Six weeks should be enough time to find a place to start.” “Of course it will.” Daniel replied with a gentle smile Silas felt like he hadn’t been meant to see. It was finally time to venture out into the world. He just hoped they found Connor and Richard before anyone else did. If he lost his brothers he wouldn’t have anyone left. There was no way he could survive that.

#Something Familiar #SF AU #daniel60 #dbh daniel #dbh sixty #dbh fic #dbh #PTSD tw #mental health tw #torture mention tw #death mention tw

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d-pennants · 4 years

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Everything we know about Aaravos

This includes stuff from the books, interviews and ComicCon, so spoilers. Updated with a few things from the artbook. I’ll try to keep updating when I come across new info.

Timeline

From Book 1: Moon

Callum’s Spellbook

Historical texts

The Art of the Dragon Prince

And a third page written in Italian was added to the historical texts.

“Last of the Great Ones” is interesting, because Zaird says to Sol Regem his staff was a gift from one of the Great Ones. Sol Regem is alarmed but doesn’t immediately know who Zaird is talking about. So apparently between that conversation and when this text was written all Great Ones except for Aaravos died, and even he ‘fell’.

Also this note about Aaravos not being at full power.

As a ‘fallen’ Startouch elf Aaravos can only access a fraction of his former power.

The spell Zaird used to absorb the sunbirds to create the fireball he used against Sol Regem and the spell that Aaravos casts for Viren to absorb Zym’s power are meant to resemble each other in their swirling vortex. The symbol for Dark Magic also has a swirl in it around a diamond shaped like the one on Aaravos’ chest. This absorption vortex seems to be pretty central to Dark Magic, and it only seems it can be done with the staff Aaravos most likely crafted.

The Show

Zaird staff is the same staff Viren uses. Aaravos recognized it. Given the historical text Aaravos is the “Great One” who gifted Zaird that staff.

Transcripts of all his lines in this post.

Aaravos is the narrator in the opening.

First appearance in S1 from the first war between humans and elves & dragons 1000 years ago.

Elves don’t seem to ride horses, but big cats, dogs, lizards, etc instead. Yet Aaravos choose to depict himself riding a star primal horse (He could make Viren see any creature he wanted). Considering it turns out that unicorns and Startouch elves are the only two star primal creatures humans know about, is he just being dramatic or does this have a deeper meaning?

Mirror in the Dragon King’s lair.

Cocoon

Dragon Prince Website

Bio;

Mysterious and charismatic, Aaravos is a rare kind of elf few have ever seen. He is secretive yet charming, and even Viren finds himself compelled by Aaravos’ cryptic words and gifts.

Height: 6’6 (6’9 with horns) Birthday: November 14th Age: ???

Birthday Vignette;

Aaravos does not count the passage of time in minutes, nor hours, not even days — he counts candles, one after the other, burning themselves down to the wick and a puddle of hot wax. He would run out of candles if it weren’t so easy to reform them with a wave of his hand, as though the burn had never happened.

He thinks sometimes about the way humans count their years: one day every year marks a precious point in their short life spans. They celebrate. They feast. He thinks that if he cared for the idea, he’d like to remember the taste of a smooth red fruit a human had plucked from a tree for him, once.

It had been so crisp, and so sweet.

AMA, Tumblr, Instagram Live

Who are the First Elves?

AE: First Elves are startouch elves, or possibly a subset of startouch elves...

When did the idea of Aaravos come up? How early in the planning of the saga did you guys come up with him?

AE: Justin and I came up with Aaravos very very early. In the early stages we referred to him as "Mirror Mage." We always knew he would be the secret long-game mystery villain... Aaron

Is the Key of Aaravos actually the key of where he was imprisoned?

AE & JR: We can’t tell you.

JR: We don’t even know. We haven’t even discovered the answer yet.

AE: We know! Actually, that was one of the first things we knew at the very beginning. We’ll get to it.

Did Aaravos create dark magic?

AE: No, it was discovered not created. Did Aaravos turn them onto it or help them discover it? That’s very possible. Whether Aaravos played a role in developing their ability to do dark magic. Exploring the possibilities of dark magic.

How could Avizandum (Thunder) imprison such a powerful creature as Aaravos? Can archdragons do such magic or who helped him? This required some collaboration between archdragons and elves

Were you surprised by all the thirsty reactions to Aaravos? Judging from everyone who worked on the show and their reactions, no we weren't surprised :)

Where is Aaravos walking in epsiode 6? And how and where did he a get a horse?

Aaravos can basically make Viren “see” him however he wants, so he chose to appear on the back of a purple horse. There was actually a line in there at one point that we had to cut for time that clarified a bit more heavily -- Viren grumbles at him, “Must you appear... that way?” as Aaravos is floating in the air, and Aaravos replies, “Ah, I can appear more naturally if you’d like,” and then he flips backwards onto the horse as you see in scene in episode 6. :P

which FFXIV classes would the rest of the cast be?

Aaravos - mysterious benevolent ascian

Interviews

There is no Startouch elf society as they’re not numerous enough.

Hot Brown Morning Potion Ep 5

Hypothetically, if Aaravos knew about his own fandom, how would he feel about them?

AE: He takes a special interest in humans, so he would be very pleased that humans appreciate him.

Wondercon 2019 panel Q&A

“The goal of healing and rebuilding the world is going to be a hard one, and especially a hard one when Aaravos, who may have been one of the mysterious forces who pushed the world into this situation, now seems to be on the cusp of returning or trying to return to the world.”

Inverse Season 4 interview

“Practical usable powerful magic, is drawn from the six Primal Sources, but there’s this idea that there’s this kind of earlier, less differentiated power. A kind of magic that’s deeper and more, (I don’t want to kind of say what all of them are). It’s not that important now. It has more to do with the history of beings and interactions and now I feel like I’m talking crazy, but Aaravos cares about some of this stuff and it’s funny, people have worked on a speech in season 5 where he kind of goes into some of this.”

...

“I think he’s complicated. I mean it’s, I think there’s a part of him that is kind, that is generous, that is giving and I think there’s a part of him that is arrogant and desiring to be, you know, worshipped and revered...

He never lies, I don’t know if he’s never lied about anything, if you understand where he’s coming from, he’s not lying about anything. But you don’t necessarily know where he’s coming from. He never lies, he always tells the truth. You’ve heard us talk about Aaravos before, is it Lucifer or Prometheus, who has a relationship with humanity and the gifts and sharing that he has historically have been, you know, you can interpret it differently.”

...

Q: We know he’s mastered all the primal sources, it that like could all of us do that or just him?

A: He’s very special.

Cartoon Universe Season 3 interview

kn: What’s your favorite Greek myth? AE: There are so many intriguing myths to choose from – I think if I have to choose I would say the Prometheus myth. The titan stole fire and gave it to humans, elevating them – and was punished by the gods for this. I feel like there are parallels to the biblical story of the serpent tempting Eve to eat the apple, and its effect on humanity… and the comparisons are sort of fascinating. I am interested in both the mythic/divine messenger who stole/shared these gifts with humanity, and the story of what humans chose to do once they had these gifts.

Korranews interview

Can I just jump back for a minute to the Star elves, can you talk a little bit about them?

Richmond: We can tell you their name, so they’re Startouch elves, is the type of elf they are and kind of no. [Laughs] They’re super, duper rare, they’re very mystical and we have a lot of plans for them, but that’s kind of all I want to give you. Ehasz: They’re mystical, mysterious - the mystical, mysterious Mr. Aaravos. [Laughs] Richmond: That’s the spinoff. [Laughs] Ehasz: Yeah, they are more - I mean, they’re Star Elves and they’re more associated with the heavens and they’re not immortal, but they have more of a time scale that is more like the stars than other elves, so they’re a little bit removed and big picture, but Star Elves have a, I mean, they’re part of mystery and myth and we’re going to meet one this season. I love the actor who plays him is Erik Todd Dellums, who I worked with on Avatar [the Last Airbender] who has an amazing voice and he’s perfect to embody a character like this and we’re excited about this character. We hope the audience is intrigued and ready for more.

Screenrant Season 2 interview

Going back to Aaravos for one second. We’re assuming there’s a reason why he seems to be telling this story — we see his hands at the beginning of each episode in the opening sequence. AE: Yeah, so he’s a Startouch Elf, and they are closest to the heavens of the elves. They’re kind of the most god-like, in the sense of they span much more time than more Earth-bound or Xadia-bound elves. So yeah, he has this thousand year perspective. This kind of mythic role. So he’s like this mythic character who now, suddenly, is kind of popping up in this contemporary story. JR: And obviously, he’s bad enough that they tried to literally erase him from the books. AE: He’s complicated. JR: He’s interesting enough that they tried to erase him from the books. AE: He’s disliked. That’s not the same as bad.

Hyperable season 2 interview

“The name of a very important person to Aaravos will be in the map of a novel, but it will be a long time before you know what that means,” Ehasz said. “A lot of his motivation comes from that relationship.”

Hyperable Season 3 interview (Possible names on the map are Skall’s Hook, the Ruins of Elarion, and Mount Kalik).

The team also teased The Orphan Queen, a new story they hope to tell in the series, books or even in a feature film, which follows a young human girl who starts from nothing and grows up without parents. She takes a dangerous journey to Xadia and ends up saving the world. She’s also Ezran’s first royal ancestor. Ehasz and Richmond said the idea was born when they were imagining where the Key of Aaravos comes from.

Ehasz and Richmond also dug into the timeline of Xadia, and how certain eras will impact both the books and the series. Five thousand years ago, Xadia was in its “mythical, Biblical first days,” a time long before elves and dragons were allied in which humans suffered and struggled. The “rise of Elarion” came around 2,000 years before the events of the series, and saw humans find their way to magic. Around 1200 years ago finds the arch dragon of sun, Sol Regem, as king of the dragons during this era, when dark magic became problematic and humans poached magical creatures for their parts. Shortly after came the division of Xadia. The next big turning point for the world was 300 years before the series, a time Ehasz and Richmond dub “the era of Avizandum.” Two stories they want to tell take place during this era: The Fallen Star and The Orphan Queen. We don’t know anything about The Fallen Star yet ... but we will. The team noted that history will one day know the modern era as “The Return of Aaravos.”

Polygon season 3 interview

Concept Art

Dorothy Yang’s design 'Fallen Star.’ Check out more of her work on ArtStation.

When they were first brainstorming ideas for the show Aaravos had a blindfold, but that was scrapped for being “too on the nose.” This is Giancarlos Volpe’s early sketches that he posted on Twitter.

#aaravos #my notes #tdp analysis #tdp spoilers #spoilers

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5lazarus · 3 years

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Labyrinth, Chapter 3: The Anderfels

"Anders made no attempt at escape during the years they were together." This story is meant to explore everything absolutely horrible about that statement. If the core part of Anders' identity is his refusal to submit to imprisonment, then perhaps listening to Karl was a violation of his sense of self. Things get better, and then things get worse.

Chapter 3/3, the Anderfels: Anders visits the Thekla village chantry.

Read Chapter One: The Circle and Chapter Two: Kirkwall on Tumblr, or find the story on AO3 here.

Everyone has a mother and a mother’s-land, even Anders. As the war rages through the Free Marches and factionalism breaks out in Orlais, Anders is left wondering: where next? So he wanders.

Kirkwall is out of the question. There is nothing left once the war spreads through Ferelden and Orlais. Tevinter would discredit the mages, so he dismisses it. Rivain is too close to the Qun, and after the annulment at Dairsmuid, everyone is too shellshocked to shelter another renegade mage. Then Fenris, who knows how to flee, suggests, “What about the Hissing Wastes?” Isabela comes up with a better option: the Anderfels. No one would ever think to look for him there.

So he grows out his beard, and they wander. Hawke and Merrill head to Ferelden, looking for Varric. Aveline returns to Kirkwall, to build its defensives against Vael. But Isabela and Fenris take him home, because no one else will, with Kirkwall gone. They sail the river bordering the Free Marches and Antiva, through Nevarra all the way to the blasted lands of the Silent Plains. It is hard for Isabela to abandon their little skip, but they get enough money out of it to buy a wagon and mules. The animals are sick. Everyone is sick, eking out a living on Blighted land. Anders remembers this, but he had thought it was the fear of his magic that had made those memories so uncomfortable. Hadn’t Karl said something about that? The first time he ate food grown in clean soil, a plate of strawberries with a child-sized spoon: I don’t want to remember. You shouldn’t forget.

They make for the Hunterhorn Mountains, skirting Tevinter. Fenris knows the way, and they find markers of others winding through this wasted land. Fenris looks grimmer than usual, lyrium-brands burning in the gray half-light. He stops at a set of footprints, pressed hard into the scanty grass of the trail.

“Qunari have come this way,” he says, studying the tracks. “Must be Tal-Vashoth. Strange. Normally refugees from Seheron go east, not west.”

“Well, there’s a war on,” Isabela points out. “Why go from one war right into another one?”

Fenris says, “It’s a bad time of year to go through the Hunterhorns. Too dry. I doubt they’ll survive to make it to the Volca Sea, or the Donarks, wherever they be.”

Justice does not need to prompt them. “Then we should help them,” Anders says. “It’s not like we’ll be facing bandits. With my magic, I can at least bring down rain.”

Fenris and Isabela exchange a glance. Anders is getting angry, and Justice is pushing under his skin. He says, “You’re not going to let them die.”

Fenris says, “Following you this far has been enough of a suicide mission. I did not flee Tevinter just to die this close to Minrathous. If you want to die, do it by yourself. Go see how charitable people dying of starvation are, as they break from the Qun. But I will not come back for you.”

Anders flares, but Isabela holds up her hand. “The blue-and-angry stuff is hot, but I’m not getting caught in the middle of this. Anders, you know he’s right. We don’t have enough food for all of us. If we go after them, we’re just condemning ourselves. And—well—I’m not dying on land. Not after Kirkwall. We have enough food to make it through the mountains. If you go after them, you’re just going to get us killed.”

Anders says, “Fuck off.” But they’re right, and Justice has proved that there are no easy answers. In this case, he must do right by his friends. Andraste has led him thus far. He prays She guides the Tal-Vashoth true, and follows Fenris and Isabela down the winding mountain path.

At night, the Tal-Vashoth attack, and they kill them quickly. Preparing their bodies for burial, Anders asks Fenris, “Who do they pray to?”

Fenris looks at him oddly. “Does it matter?”

Isabela sighs. “They don’t really do that. And if they’re Tal-Vashoth, who knows if they’d want prayers said for them anyway? They were going to kill us, Anders. Just burn the bodies and let’s go.”

It’s not right that these lives end a smear of ash on a grainy mountaintop, the blackened bits of their pyre preserved in the arid air of the Hunterhorns. They’re more than just a desperate end. People will go through this pass and see the ashes and know some battle took place, but Anders wants to be remembered for something besides death. He wants them to be remembered for something beyond dying.

Justice says, All you can do sometimes is keep living. And carry the dead with you. That’s the important part. Take them with you, but don’t let them weigh you down.

Shut up.

They find a shallow recess to rest in, before the path bends down the mountain and towards the steppe. Fenris lets the mules out of the yoke but ties their reigns to his waist and curls up among them. Anders watches him curiously. He’s clearly done this before. That’s a flash of a life outside his purview, and maybe beyond Fenris’ memory too—working for that magister Danarius, guarding his master’s trade caravans. Fenris catches him staring.

“What?” he growls.

“You look warm,” Anders says. Isabela curls up next to him, and gestures at Anders to join them. Fenris looks impassive.

“Come on,” Isabela says impatiently. “We can’t light a fire, everyone down the mountains will be able to see it. Come here. Keep us warm.”

Fenris sighs and makes room.

He wakes up to the sun a watery gold, filling the valley below and easing through the crevices of the mountain range. It’s freezing, despite Isabela and Fenris and the mules all curled around him, and he tucks his hands under his cloak as he shivers. A bird calls, and then another: some Maker-forsaken creature has built a life in this forgotten corner of Thedas.

It is all too familiar, and he wonders if this is the path the templars took when he was a boy: no. Karl told him this, didn’t he? In letters he burnt before the war. The thin sunlight resolutely insists on laying the plain below bare. He can imagine the high grass Karl promised him, and perhaps there are two adventurous young men galloping below, towards freedom, towards the promise of—what? More life than this, a better kind of hunger.

He’s got tears in his eyes, and he wipes at them angrily. Fenris stirs.

“Is there a problem?” he inquires.

“It’s fucking cold,” Anders says.

Once they leave the the Hunterhorns, it is not long until they find a village nestled in the reeds of the river Lattenfluss. Isabela leans against a mule and looks at it wistfully. Justice nudges him, at some point he needs to help her get back to the open water again, it’s only right after all that she has done for him. They see a weatherbeaten woman dragging a stubborn donkey to the water. Anders goes up to her, making sure to hobble on his staff like it’s a walking stick.

He reaches for the words of a language he has barely spoken in the past two decades. “Guten Morgen. Wie heißt dieser Dorf?”

The woman looks at him strangely. “Thekla,” she says shortly, and goes back to trying to force the donkey to drink.

“Fuck,” Anders says. That needs no translation.

She looks at him again. “Wie heißen Sie, Ausländer? Woher kommen Sie?”

She is being exceedingly formal with him. He almost says his name, but isn’t she Anders too? Instead he walks away, where Isabela and Fenris wait.

“Well?” Fenris says.

He wants to keep moving, but Justice stops him and instead he says, “Let’s rest here for awhile. We can fish from the river, at least.”

“We should move more inland,” Fenris says testily. “Gossip travels fast. We should get to the Donarks as quickly as possible.”

“I want to stay,” Anders says firmly. “Just for a moment. I need to say my prayers. It won’t be long. You can even leave without me, and I’ll catch up.”

“We’re not splitting up,” Isabela says. “We’ve separated enough. Not until we all have a place to go back to.”

“I won’t be long,” he says. “Just give me ten minutes to pray. And then we can move on.” Fenris fixes him with an unimpressed stare. He’ll wheedle it out of him eventually, and he’ll tell them, because despite everything he’s more than proven himself, he’s guided him here, hasn’t he? Andraste’s grace works in mysterious ways. He walks to the village chantry, head bowed, hackles raised at the villagers’ stares. The last time a stranger must have passed by would’ve been the Blight, and then the time before that? When the Templars took Karl. At least Karl grabbed his name before he left. Anders has left all that behind.

There is a name he has trained himself from flinching when he hears the first syllable, that he left behind when he realized he would never hear his mother call again. He had refused to hand it over to the templars, so they named him after his country: “that Anders child,” eventually simply Anders. He shapes his lips to it, mutters it under his breath, and walks into the town square, a flattened dusty piazza. There are perhaps five families in Thekla village. Not all of them have black hair and blue-gray eyes, but enough of them do for him to wonder.

The Chantry looms over the weatherbeaten limestone cobbles of the piazza, made from the same mountain stone as the rest of the village. Anders opens the familiar weather-scarred door, remembering suddenly the smell of wood made sacred by years of worship before he even realizes, this is Andraste’s house and that is Andraste’s incense, her sweet-burning flesh. Harsh sun softens through the stained glass windows into Andraste’s trials. Anders kneels as he faces the altar, and shuffles into a pew to pray.

At first there is no words, just the bleak exhaustion. He stares up at the gold mosaic of Andraste wreathed in flames, illuminated shockingly by cleverly designed windows above the door of the church. The whites of her wide eyes glimmer, recently polished. Her mouth, a slash of red glass, is resolutely closed. Her silence is what convinced Hessarian. Anders is not so sure. He would have preferred that she screamed. He would’ve, but he is no Andraste. Still, why must they suffer in silence? What good does that do? No one takes pity on those who are too weak to protest. She fought a whole fucking war for them! It’s the Maker who’s silent, not her. She pointedly wasn’t, not in the face of injustice.

Andraste bid him, fight for my people. Mages are the Maker’s children, as much as any other. Magic is meant to serve man, not to rule over them, and that meant the fear of magic as well. There is nothing in the Chant that says to rip away the spirit of any mage who falters. There is nothing in the Chant about Circles, templars, Tranquilty, or Exalted Marches either. There is, though, quite a lot about Justice. There is the demand of martyrdom. There is collective sacrifice.

Anders sings, “Let the blade pass through the flesh, let my blood touch the ground, let my cries touch their hearts. Let mine be the last sacrifice.” His voice reverberates in the dull space and grows silent. He waits, but the Maker does not answer.

He leaves the Chantry blinking blindly into the mute silent and as he stumbles towards where his friends wait with the mules he sees a man that could have been Karl, if Karl had been allowed to grow old, with a weatherbeaten face and sour expression and a mercifully clear brow, beard rather longer and whiter than he would have ever allowed. Anders opens his mouth but nothing comes out, there is nothing to say, so he keeps on walking.

#dragon age fanfic #dragon age fanfiction #kanders #anders #karl #anders/karl #karl thekla #labyrinth #the anderfels #fenris #isabela #dragon age 2 #awakening #fanfic #da2

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four-loose-screws · 3 years

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I call this a “section” because it is not a separate part of the chapter in the book, but divided from the rest of the chapter by a scene break.

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Chapter 6: The Castle On the Lake

Atop the cold, clear lake towered a castle.

And surrounding the castle was a thick forest. The green of the trees, the blue of the water’s surface, and the white of the castle… those subtle colors all blended together, creating beautiful scenery, like that of a painting.

However, right now, there was no way that Eirika could afford to enjoy such a view. The white castle walls were like a monster that kept away all intruders.

Waterside Renvall was an impenetrable fort built atop the lake. There was only one path leading to it, a simple bridge suspended over the water.

The Grado Army, under the assumption that Eirika’s army was in the area, had already placed soldiers around the bridge, and hardened their defenses.

Eirika’s army had no need to hide themselves anymore, either. They stood in battle formation, tall and proud, before the bridge. If they were to attack and take the castle, then clashing with the army stationed there head-on was their only option.

Inside was Eirika’s brother. The enemy had likely taken his freedom, and locked him away in a cell.

Eirika suppressed the urge to attack immediately, and turned towards her allies. “Everyone… We traveled a hard road to get this far. My brother… Prince Ephraim of Renais is being held inside of this castle. Please lend me your strength.”

Colm bowed politely and said “Wow, formal much?” with a laugh.

Neimi elbowed him.

“We expect the enemy to come at us at full strength as well. This battle is likely to become a harsh one…”

“And that’s what we want!” Ross yelled out at the top of his lungs. In just a short span of time, he had become very muscular, and grown into a full-fledged warrior.

It looked like Garcia was telling him “Not yet!”, but he was too busy swinging around his giant axe, his readiness to boldly rush into the enemy lines inspiring bravery in the young soldiers.

Several others cheered one after the other in agreement with Ross.

Eirika looked around at all of her allies.

She thought it incredibly amazing that so many dependable people had gathered around and lent their strength to a powerless person like her, who knew nothing about war.

Eirika had no strength on her own. It was because of their shared resentment towards the Grado Empire’s tyranny that they had been able to combine their power like this. It was all because their lives had been destroyed by the empire’s sudden invasion, and so many had suffered losing their family...

Eirika was silent as she turned around and faced the enemy army. Then, she raised her sword, and shouted as loudly as she could, “Move out!”

The cavalry unit all galloped ahead in unison. Then, the axe and sword fighters behind them all started running. After that came the archers and mages. And on the rear line, Moulder, Natasha, and the other healers waited on standby from a safe position behind everyone else.

Eirika joined in with the other infantry and ran as quickly as she could. She was now completely used to the sounds of horses neighing and weapons clashing, and did not feel afraid. Only her feelings for her brother grew stronger.

When they'd reached the point where only a few enemy soldiers were left, the cavalry unit forced them to scatter, and Erika's army marched further.

Eirika found Seth among the cavalry, and ran over to him. "Seth, let's use this momentum to storm the castle and save Brother!"

"Yes, Milad..." Seth started to answer, but looked over at the Castle gate, and pulled his horse's reins.

The giant doors slowly opened, and a single person came out from within. The person stepped over the dead and injured to approach Eirika.

When she saw his face, Eirika could not help but call out to him. Though he looked like he was feeling terrible and his face was pale, he was undoubtedly a person she knew very well.

He was the leader of the Renais cavalry unit, Orson. He was a serious knight who had long served the royal family, and a person her father trusted very deeply. He was currently supposed to be serving and aiding Ephraim, as he'd been ordered to do so when Ephraim deployed to protect the border.

It made her very happy to see him safe, however, she felt uneasy as well. Why had he come out of an enemy castle all by himself? Just what had transpired at Renvall Castle?

Orson stopped before her, and said in an utterly exhausted voice, "Lady Eirika… Seth…"

Seth dismounted his horse and faced him. "Sir Orson! Why are you here? What about your orders to serve Lord Ephraim?"

"You're safe, Orson!" Eirika ran over to him and looked up at the fatigued knight. "Where is Brother? Is he inside this castle?"

"Yes. We were captured by the Grado Army, and became prisoners of this castle. I broke free from my cell, and had a chance… to escape…" A painful coughing fit cut his words short. He looked as if he was about to collapse at any second.

Eirika extended a hand to help support him. "Are you alright, Orson? Your face is so pale… The Grado soldiers must have treated you so terribly…"

"This is nothing. Please save your worries for Lord Ephraim."

"What do you mean? Where is he?"

"He should still be in his cell. I will take you to him before enemy reinforcements arrive." Orson turned around and returned to the castle.

While it was strange that only he had been able to break free from his cell, she could sense even from behind him that he had coldly decided to reject all questions.

"Hey, should we really trust that old man…?" Ross whispered worriedly.

Eirika nodded. "He is Orson, a knight of Renais. It'll be alright. Let's go with him."

"Somethin’ seems off about him…" Ross’ suspicion of the man was so strong that everyone else could feel it. He gripped his axe tightly.

It wasn't as if Eirika did not know how he felt. Orson’s behavior was certainly strange.

However, her hopes to finally reunite with her brother were greater. She jogged to catch up to Orson.

Merely few of her allies followed her. The only sound echoing off the stone floor was that of Eirika’s army’s footsteps. Not one enemy soldier was in sight. Perhaps they had all been defeated in front of the castle gate? She couldn’t believe that.

“Orson…” Feeling discouraged, she tried to call out to him, but he did not stop walking.

He continued down the complex hallways without even a moment’s hesitation, and led them further inside the castle. “This way. Lord Ephraim is in the inner dungeon.”

“Let’s hurry…”

Because it was a castle atop a lake, the atmosphere of Renvall Castle was damp and gloomy. And they could not sense any other human presence within the castle, nor could they hear even a single noise, further intensifying that atmosphere. The thought of her brother being held in a cold, damp stone cell made her all the more worried.

However, when Eirika tried to speed up, Seth swiftly stepped in front of her and spread his arms out, blocking her path. He then asked Orson in a stern voice, “Sir Orson. How long has it been since you were imprisoned here?”

“...Half a month, roughly…” Orson looked down, trying to avoid Seth’s gaze. His answer was devoid of feeling. “We were forced to surrender before Grado’s large army. We have been locked away inside this castle’s dungeon ever since…”

“Did the enemy soldiers give you any information about what has happened?”

“No, nothing… The only people to bring us our meals were villagers living nearby… I do not know anything about the current state of the battle. Seth, how is Renais currently fairing?”

“The capital fell, and Lord Fado is dead.”

Orson finally looked up at them, but his mask-like expression did not change. Only his whispered words were sad. “I see… How terrible… please forgive us, Lady Eirika. It is all because my unit was so worthless…”

“You fought well. We should focus our thoughts on the future rather than the past. I know what the enemy is after. The Grado Empire is trying to steal the bracelets that Brother and I wear.”

“Your bracelets…?”

“Yes. Brother also wears a bracelet that is the same as this one.” Eirika showed him the bracelet on her wrist.

“I cannot imagine that Brother would simply hand it over to anyone who demanded he give it to them, so I am worried that they might have done something terrible to him to get it…”

“A bracelet…? He certainly was wearing a bracelet that resembled that one, but…” Orson thought deeply for a moment, then continued speaking. “In that case, Lady Eirika, isn’t it dangerous for you to wear your bracelet? The enemy is likely going to come for it again, and plotting to attack you… I think it would be best for you to entrust it to someone else.”

“...Huh?” Eirika felt herself become anxious, though she did not quite understand why, and took a step away from Orson.

She did not mean to doubt his sincerity. Orson had served the royal family as a member of the cavalry unit ever since she was a child.

Before she’d known about the bracelet’s secret, she may have done as he asked without question. But now, she was well aware of the great significance it held. She could never give it to just anyone. No matter how kind their words, if someone told her to entrust it to someone else, then she couldn't help but feel suspicious.

Orson smiled a lonely smile, seeming to have picked up on how she felt. "Lady Eirika, the Sacred Stone is Renais’ most valuable treasure. We cannot allow Grado to steal it, so that is why I suggest you entrust your bracelet to someone else to protect it. It should be someone you can trust… Like me, or Seth. I say this only because I want to lighten the burdens that you carry.”

Orson’s words pierced her heart.

She had doubted Joshua, and now Orson… it saddened her to see herself become quick to be suspicious of her invaluable allies. It was all because of their help that she had been able to succeed in every fight so far.

Eirika started to place her fingers on her bracelet, but Seth said in a voice even more stern than before, “Sir Orson, I’m sorry, but I must ask you to give me your weapon.”

“Seth…?” Eirika was shocked. She looked up and saw his face from the side. His expression was so serious that it terrified her.

Orson looked at his feet and laughed. “My weapon? What are you talking about? I was a prisoner. My weapons and all of my other belongings were taken by the Grado Army. As you can see, I am currently unarmed…”

“If I am mistaken, then I will apologize afterwards. But there are far too many things here that do not add up.”

“There are things that do not add up… what do you mean?”

“Why aren’t there any enemy soldiers inside the castle? I cannot fathom that the soldiers we fought outside would be the entire force stationed at this castle. And if you were captured alongside Lord Ephraim, why were you the only one able to escape your cell? And one more thing… how do you know about the relationship between the Sacred Stone and the bracelet?”

“...Because Lord Fado told me, of course. Seth, you couldn’t have thought that you were the only person Lord Fado confided his secrets in…”

“Well then, you told us you are unarmed, so for what purpose are you hiding a dagger against your chest?”

Eirika turned towards Orson.

He was wearing plain clothing that unquestionably looked like that of a prisoner, and he did not look like he could possibly be hiding a weapon anywhere.

‘You are mistaken!’ she tried to cut in and say, but Orson whispered under his breath, “Of course… You’re as sharp as ever, Seth. If she had been alone, I would have easily been able to deceive the princess… But of course, you got in my way.”

“Orson…?” Orson’s voice was so cold and full of malice that Eirika instinctively hid behind Seth.

Seth asked calmly, “Sir Orson… No, there’s no need to show you respect anymore, is there? Orson, why did you betray Renais?”

“For him.” A small smile appeared on his face. He was not panicking over the fact that his betrayal had been found out, rather, his eyes glittered with happiness.

"’For him…?’ You mean the Grado Empire?"

"He granted my wish. For my wife… for my Monica to come home to me once again."

"Orson, what in the world are you…?" EIrika’s words were cut short when she heard the sound of footsteps echo from behind her.

She turned around, and saw several well-dressed men.

The middle-aged man standing as the leader said in a polite voice that was obviously fake, "You did well, Orson. I will take it from here. You may return to your beloved wife."

Orson nodded slightly and quickly walked away without once looking back on Eirika's army.

"Who are you?" Seth asked.

The man sounded high and mighty as he answered, "My name is Tirado. I am General Valter's aide."

"Valter? Of course...!" Just thinking about that wyvern riding general's face and his creepy snake-like eyes made Eirika’s entire body shiver.

“I was ordered to capture the princess, however… you troublesome lot tagged along with her. No matter. Lord Valter likes warriors with guts."

Eirika, still looking in the direction Orson had disappeared in, asked, "...Where is Brother?"

Strangely, she did not feel hate for him well up inside of her. Though his betrayal had led to her brother's capture, she could not bring herself to hate him. And that was all because of the blissful expression he had shown before he left.

It worried her. He'd mentioned his wife, but what did that mean? Perhaps Grado had taken her hostage?

"If it's Prince Ephraim you are talking about, he isn't here." Tirado waved his hand in disgust. “He was so stubborn… He shook off Lord Valter’s pursuit, and escaped from this castle.”

"Then that means Brother is…" Her voice lifted despite their current situation.

He had been safe this whole time. The news that he was captured was completely false.

All of the tension built up in her body vanished in an instant. She felt as if she had seen him with her own eyes swinging around his giant lance and breaking through a wave of soldiers surrounding him.

“But there is no point in getting excited. Prince Ephraim may have escaped, but you will die here. Do not worry that you will be lonely, as your brother will join you in heaven soon enough…” The man turned toward his subordinates and ordered, “Tear down the bridge! Cut off their only escape route!”

Eirika and Seth turned around to see who was standing behind them. They saw Ross, Joshua, and then Lute. Everyone else was still fighting outside.

Ross gripped his axe and glared at Tirado, while Joshua was swiftly confirming the number of enemies. Lute was as calm as always.

It would be rash to raid the castle with such small numbers. If the bridge fell, they would be cut off from all of their other allies. She was unsure that they could sneak around the castle and take on all the enemies in this small of a group.

However, the noise coming from the area around the castle gate was getting louder and louder. Tirado furrowed his brow in displeasure.

One of his men rushed up to him. “I apologize, Sir Tirado! We tried to lower the bridge, but it was too late… the enemy had already rushed inside the castle!”

“What’s this…? An obnoxious group of uninvited guests has arrived…?”

“Stand down! They are gathering strength. It is dangerous here!” Said a voice that reached Eirika’s ears.

Next came the sound of many sets of footsteps jumbling together, then the sound of blades clashing.

Eirika unsheathed her sword. Seth and the others had already started fighting. Tirado panicked and ran inside the castle.

It was much more important to regroup with their allies first than take him out. Eirika and the others gave up on trying to chase him, and hurried out to the castle gate.

“So, is this your first backstabbing?” Joshua asked as they ran.

Eirika bit her lip and nodded.

“Well, I think it’s a good experience. The worst thing you can do is drag out the pain.”

“...Were you betrayed by someone?”

“It happens to me all the time. I’ve been in the mercenary business for many years. You can’t trust anyone besides yourself.” He burst out into a cheerful laugh.

Eirika realized that she was still shaking over what had happened with Orson, and Joshua was trying to cheer her up. It surprised her. She didn’t think that he was the type of person to notice such a thing.

“...I need to apologize to you, Joshua.” She found herself saying.

Joshua raised an eyebrow. “What for?”

“You must have noticed, right? I doubted you. I thought that you might turn back to Grado.”

“Yeah, but that’s fine. You can’t trust someone like a mercenary. Don’t worry about it. I’m used to being the object of suspicion.”

“I trust you now. You’re different from Orson. You have honest eyes.”

He seemed to not be used to being praised. He shrugged his shoulders as if it were a joke.

The area around the castle gate was currently the site of a gruesome battle. Eirika noticed that Colm was at the forefront of it.

“Hey, you’re okay! You disappeared so fast that I thought you died!”

“You came to help? Thank you…”

“Sure, but not really! I heard there’s a ton of treasure in this castle, so I just wanted to try sneakin’ in…”

“Save the chatting for later, kid!” Joshua cut him off.

Colm didn’t even notice it, but Joshua swiftly moved in to kill an enemy that was trying to attack Colm from behind.

Colm didn’t seem to like being called “kid,” as he ran back over to Neimi with an irritated look on his face.

Just then, they heard a voice say “The bridge has fallen!” from the direction of the castle gate. Tirado’s men seem to have finally been able to carry out his order. Eirika’s army no longer had an escape route.

In a battle where the difference in numbers gave one side an overwhelming disadvantage, the most important factor was determining when to retreat. However, that was not an option for this battle. The only way they could win was by defeating all of the soldiers in the castle.

Eirika’s army put up a good fight, but the enemy continued to close in on them. The soldiers they’d defeated outside of the castle had likely been decoys to draw them towards the castle, as the soldiers hidden inside the castle were far greater in both numbers and strength.

The allies she could see around her were starting to tire out, and there were so many injured that Natasha and the other healers could not keep up. It was only a matter of time before the battle was decided… No matter who she looked at, everyone had fatigued and impatient expressions on their faces.

As she wondered how much time had passed since the battle started, she heard a commotion break out from inside the castle. It was now not just around the gate, but also inside the castle that something was going on.

Was this a good sign, or a bad sign for her army? She strained her ears, and the first voice that she heard made her entire body freeze.

“That’s the prince of Renais! Get him!” Someone screamed.

She lost all strength in her sword arm, and forgot what was going on, standing frozen in place.

Surely she heard wrong. Tirado told them that Ephraim had fled, right? He shouldn't be in the castle.

However, Franz rushed up to her, completely out of breath, and confirmed that she was not imagining things. "Princess Eirika! Did you hear that!? That voice from inside the castle!"

"Y… Yes. It sounded like he said… the prince."

"I heard it, too! Lord Ephraim is inside this castle!"

"But Brother… he…" She had no time to think about it. The enemies were closing in on her, one after the other. Strength once again flowed through her tired body.

'Brother is here. And very close to us.' She had no idea what was going on, but at the very least, he was in the same building as her.

The news that the prince was in the castle spread like a ripple, and not only did it surprise her allies, but also her enemies.

Many even screamed "Impossible!" and their faces stiffened.

Eirika's army was reenergized. There were a lot of people among them that weren’t even sure what he looked like, but what they did know is that Eirika had fought all of their difficult battles so far for him, so the news that he was close by gave them strength.

Eirika ran towards the source of the noise. She cut down every enemy that tried to block her path, shoving all of her exhaustion aside and continuing to move.

After passing through several rooms, she burst into the southern corridor and found a familiar figure standing with his back to her.

“Forde!” She cried.

The young man, with his long, blonde hair tied up in a simple ponytail, whirled around.

Though he had chiseled features, his expression was as aloof as always, to the point that he even looked naïve. He really was Forde, one of Ephraim’s most trusted knights.

When his eyes met Eirika’s he burst out laughing, then ran over to her with open arms.

“Lady Eirika! We knew you’d be here!”

“Forde… what about Brother? Is he with you…?”

“Of course he is! He’s chasing after some enemies. He’s been running around for a while… Lord Ephraim! I found her! Lady Eirika is here!”

A response came almost immediately when a young man came running from around the next corner. He had a lance in his hands, and his hair was disheveled. He was indeed none other than Prince Ephraim of Renais, and his eyes lit up when he saw his little sister’s face. “Eirika! Are you okay?”

“Brother… I should be the one… asking you that…” Her voice got caught in her throat, and tears began to pour down her face.

Ephraim laughed and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I certainly am! And better than ever!”

“I heard you were being held in Renvall Castle… It worried me so much...”

“Did that creep Valter tell you that? Do you really think a man like him could capture me?”

“We were in a pretty rough spot.” Forde leisurely cut in.

The serious young man standing behind Ephraim glared at him. He was of course Forde’s partner, Kyle, who also followed Ephraim wherever he went.

Ephraim frowned and nodded. “I mean… it is true that we were almost captured, but we struggled and managed to break through Valter’s men. Then, we were going to continue sneaking through Grado territory to retaliate against the Grado emperor, but we heard rumors that you were in this area, so we came back here.”

“But how? From what I understand, the bridge to the castle should be torn down…”

“We’ve been hiding in here since morning. We blended in with the Grado soldiers.” Ephraim laughed so hard as he reminisced on it that his shoulders shook.

Forde cut into the conversation once more. ”And this isn't the first time he's been so daring, either. We attacked the guards and stole their armor and helmets, then waltzed right in here like it was nothing. We were scared half to death. I mean, it was fun too, but…”

“We waited for an opportunity, then caused an uproar the moment we heard that an army led by the princess of Renais was attacking.” Ephraim smiled from ear to ear and ran a hand through Eirika’s hair. “I couldn’t believe that you were leading an army and attacking an impregnable fortress.”

“It wasn’t by my power. I had help from Seth… and everyone else.” Eirika turned around. Everyone was standing around her from a few feet away and waiting to see what she would say.

Eirika noticed that Franz was among them and having a difficult time staying back, so she waved him over.

He stepped forward and first bowed deeply to Ephraim before greeting Forde.

“Have you been well, Brother? I was worried.”

“Yeah, and you look full of energy yourself! Were you able to be of some help to Lady Eirika?”

“Yes… I think so.” He nodded shyly.

“...Did he just say “Brother?” Ross asked in disbelief.

He studied them both for a minute, then his eyes widened. Though their personalities were totally different, they had many of the same facial features. “Franz, you have an older brother!? And he’s even a knight serving the prince! You never told me a word about him, did you!?”

“I didn’t really think it was necessary to…”

“Why not? You were worried about him, right?”

“Yeah, I was, but… we were marching all this time to save Prince Ephraim, weren’t we? I didn’t think it was necessary to talk about my family.”

Ross didn’t seem to understand how Franz felt. “You really are weird!” He said with a tilt of his head.

Forde laughed out loud. “He is very serious. It makes him pretty weird even within our family.”

“I think that between the two of us, you’re the weird one, Brother, but...:”

“Anyway, you seem to have become quite the knight yourself, so I’m happy. I want to see just how much you’ve grown. Come with me.” Forde immediately ran off.

Franz panicked and chased after him.

Eirika refocused her mind. “We’re going too, Brother! There are still enemies left to fight. We’ll have to enjoy our reunion after the battle.”

“Yeah. You’ve become so brave, Eirika. Even though it’s only been a few months since we parted, I hardly recognize you.”

“Please don’t tease me…” She told him, but within his smile was only happiness. She felt as if all the sadness and suffering she’d experienced until now was already entirely gone.

Eirika and the others ventured deeper within Renvall Castle. The enemy army was in turmoil over the appearance of Prince Ephraim, and the soldiers were all very agitated. Towards the end, some even dropped their weapons and fled.

ー

By that evening, Renvall Castle had been completely seized by Eirika’s army.

They defeated Tirado, then Eirika once again ran over to her brother.

Even Seth showed a smile of satisfaction unlike any that he’d made since their journey had begun. “What’s most important of all is that you are safe, Lord Ephraim.”

“Yeah, I really made you worry, didn’t I? Thank you for protecting Eirika, Seth. When I think of what might have happened if it wasn’t for you, it sends a chill down my spine.”

Eirika looked up at him, feeling the exact same way, but Seth was being straight to the point. He quickly changed the subject.

“More importantly, Prince Ephraim, I’d like to ask you about Orson. I’ve been wondering why he betrayed Renais.”

“...I don’t know. I still can’t believe it.” Ephraim’s eyes clouded over. “It was because of his communication with Grado that our movements were leaked to them. Whenever I think that if I had noticed it sooner, then I should have been able to lower the number of sacrifices, I blame myself.”

“Orson was known as a knight who was twice as serious and loyal as any other man. Of course you trusted him. For him to betray us…”

“He chose the Grado Empire over me, right? Though I hate to say it, it is because I am still so inexperienced.” Ephraim looked up at the ceiling.

“No, he…” Seth’s words were cut off before he could finish them.

Eirika followed his line of sight, and was surprised to see a child she did not know standing there. She was a young girl who looked completely out of place on this bleak battlefield, and had an innocent face.

She’d likely been hiding somewhere within the castle during the battle. She tiptoed over towards Ephraim with a nervous look on her face.

When he noticed her, Ephraim said to her in a kind voice, “Oh, Myrrh! I’m sorry I left your side. But the battle is over now. The Grado soldiers are no longer here. You can relax.”

Though his words were soothing, the girl's unsure expression did not change. She simply looked up at Ephraim with eyes that conveyed a look of pure and genuine trust.

Her hair was a rare indigo color. Eirika felt as if it reminded her of something, but she could not remember what.

She tugged gently on Ephraim's sleeve to get his attention, then said, "...Something is coming from over there."

"Hm? What is it?"

"It is black… and big... and there are many of them…" She whispered, her voice shaky, while looking towards the window.

Eirika looked out it as well, but only saw a partially cloudy sky. “Brother, who is she?”

“Her name is Myrrh, and I met her during my travels… Sorry, but it’s a long story. I can take my time explaining later. For now, we should move out of this castle quickly.”

“Yes… But…” The soldiers were tired, and it had been a long time since they’d slept in a decent place with a roof, so she wanted to let them relax at the castle for at least one night.

But Ephraim shook his head. “Myrrh’s premonitions are very reliable. If she senses that it is dangerous, we should do what she says.”

‘Brother trusts her so much… just who is this girl? What kind of power could someone who’s still only a child have?’ She wanted to ask him, but he had already walked away, and was giving everyone orders to leave the castle.

Some people may not have looked happy, but Ephraim didn’t let them get even a single word in.

Eirika’s army left Waterside Renvall just as the sky was beginning to darken.

#fire emblem #fe #fe8 #sacred stones #nintendo #gba #game boy advance #japan #japanese #translation #novel #light novel #eirika #fe8 novelization translation

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jaskier-cult · 4 years

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the witcher Avatar AU

The Blue Avatar; part one

Benders came to be after the Conjunction of Spheres, a cataclysmic even that took place approximately one-thousand five-hundred years ago. During the occurrence, the unmarked and magic lacking universe collided with another unknown universe. From that reality poured in monsters, the forces of Chaos amongst other forms of Life and Power.

Multiple creatures acquired the ability to bend the elements of the world, including but not limited to certain magical animals (new species from the Conjunction of Spheres, such as badger-moles and sky bison), monsters (dragons and mermaids), elves, dwarves, and humans. Those who acquired what was coined as “bending,” though only if an anthropomorphic creature utilized it, were random and undetermined. Criminals and peasants, heroes and royals, anyone could be a bender. At first, it was considered a gift of magic, one that didn’t have to be sacrificed for and bent under force and control, like the Chaos many humans called “mages” and “sorcerers” did. Bending was its own unique magic, tied infinitely to the other realm that collided with theirs. Bending was connected to the world in a way Chaos could not ever be.

But bending was limited. Those who were benders could only bend one of four elements; fire, air, water, and earth. Some benders were prodigies, could move whole mountains, could level entire forests; some benders could just barely heat their pot of tea, could freeze a pint of water.

Bending techniques were developed over time, over centuries, and nations among humans formed surrounding respective bending disciples.

The Air Nation, the Earth Kingdom, the Fire Nation, and the Water Tribe.

Centuries passed with these nations, with bending being cemented in culture, and then it was revealed one person could bend all four elements; but only one person in the whole Continent.

No one knew why, in the beginning. It had never been seen before.

The first person to bend all four elements was discovered in the Fire Nation; the royal prince, heir to the throne. The term “Avatar” was coined, for the royal prince was the incarnation, embodiment, and manifestation of bending. He could harness all four elements, and through training and discovery, was revealed to also have a connection to the Forgotten World – the universe that caused the Conjunction of Spheres. While it was most often referred to as the Forgotten World, it was also soon called the Spirit Realm, for it was where the magic, monsters, and spirits of the world presided.

When the Avatar died, the world went into mourning.

Then, naught a seven years later, another person was discovered to have the unique talent of bending all four elements; a young elven air acolyte from the Air Nation. The young acolyte was named the New Avatar, and she was trained in all four elements, just like the one before them.

Every time the Avatar died; another one would pop up a few years later, young and knowing. The first Avatar was from the Fire Nation, the second from the Air Nation, the third from the Water Tribe, and the fourth from the Earth Kingdom. The Avatar was human, was dwarven, was elven. Anybody could be the next Avatar.

This pattern continued.

Soon, it was discovered that the Avatar was continually reincarnated; it was the same spirit cycling through all four bending cultures.

But then the world started to turn dark.

Often referred to as the golden age, it was overshadowed when the Avatar was reincarnated once more into the Water Tribe. The chief wanted to use the Avatar to expand their influence and claim on land; but the tribe split in half with protests. The Avatar refused to help with the chief’s selfish and dangerous agenda; they were accused of not being patriotic, of being a traitor to the Water Tribe. The chief’s brother, using his influence, convinced much of the tribe to separate from the chief to protect the Avatar, and to stop the Water Tribe from inducing war with the other nations.

Thus, a civil war broke out, creating the Northern and Southern Water Tribes, respectively.

The Avatar died and was reborn in the Earth Kingdom.

There, they were treated as something Other than human. Not less than, but not equal. They were treated as a mere spectacle, an over-glorified warrior for the Earth King. The Avatar, knowing the power and influence they held, refused to swear fealty to any one power; they were neutral. They announced for every nation to hear, that their purpose was to ensure peace in the world. They were there to smooth the ripples between the Forgotten World and the New World.

This created chaos in the Earth Kingdom, for the Earth King ordered the Avatar be beheaded for treason. Many claimed that was not within his power, for the Avatar was its own power. But the novelty of the Avatar had worn off through the centuries, and they were chased from their homeland, where they were eventually found, gagged, and executed by an elite military team before they could master the four elements and save themselves.

The Earth Kingdom shattered the day the news of the Avatar’s execution went public. The news spread like wildfire, and soon the royal Earth Family was hunted and burned at the stake. A power struggle formed in the Earth Kingdom, shattering it into pieces of smaller territory, the north, east, west, and south all separated with their own powers, with hundreds of ranks of new nobles and “royal” families vying for authority.

The next Avatar was born in the Fire Nation.

They were but a mere six years old when they awoke screaming one day from a nightmare, and shakily told their mother that they had been killed by the Earth King.

This marked the first time their past lives could affect their current one.

Solemn, knowing their child was the next Avatar, the mother took them to the Fire King.

The Fire King kept them as their pupil and taught them fire bending, and they soon learned the other three disciples of bending underneath their king. It was almost a father-child relationship. They were more beloved than the king’s own child. This caused tension among the two, and one day the heir to the Fire Nation goaded the Avatar into a fight. They laughed and told them that they were just being groomed to serve the Fire Nation; that they weren’t truly neutral, because they served the Fire King.

In anger, the Avatar lashed out and killed the heir on accident, for that was not their original intent. The Fire King, enraged, had the Avatar imprisoned for treason, but they would not make the same mistake as the Earth King.

So, there the Fire Avatar sat, and withered away for the rest of their life, tortured, malnourished, and delirious from the years spent in a dark room with only isolation and cold rock.

The Avatar was reincarnated into the Air Nation but was hunted by the other three nations for their power and influence over magic and the Forgotten World. So, the Avatar ran. Desperate, they bent and used the land to their advantage, but they were so young and only with their nomad mentor to help, who soon died because the young Avatar accidentally killed them with their bending. It wasn’t long before they, at a mere eight years old, were found and brought before a council of benders, and judged to be executed for their crimes; thievery, murder, breaking law and treason in all four nations.

The people saw how the Avatar, at such a young age, could wield such power and tried to abuse it for their own sake. They saw the Avatar try to escape, to use the world to their advantage.

Around this time, after years of struggling and through years of selected bloodlines, humans eventually mastered some extent of control over the forces of Chaos, the first magical force to be conquered by humans without the power of bending. And so, the first sorcerers came to be.

This was the beginning of the oppression of benders.

With Chaos, there was no need for benders, who only oppressed those without their gift. There was no need for the natural magic and order of benders, when sorcerers with Chaos could accomplish feats tenfold, with much less limits, and with far more restraints to be bound to help humans.

Striving to find their place in this new world, that had been plagued with benders and magic and monsters, humans declared war on the elder races, who did not anticipate such arrogance. After all, the humans had been co-existing with them for centuries upon centuries. But that all stopped when they stopped having to rely on benders, and began to rely on Chaos, and began to feel that they were more than those who utilized the natural forces from the Forgotten World.

Due to passivity or inability to contain the barbarism, the elven, dwarven, and halfling populations were pushed back and eventually conquered. It was in this way that humans came to rule the world.

Benders were suppressed all throughout the Continent, believed to be equal to the elves and monsters that roamed land conquered by the humans. Benders were ostracized, were treated as less than human, until the practice and ability became almost extinct. The cultures left over from the Golden Age of bending remained, cemented in history, but the founders were erased.

Instead, the mages and sorcerers, who would not dirty their hands in pest control for forcing back the monsters that started to intrude on human lands, created witchers.

Through their Chaos, they forced a mock ability of bending upon human children, making them Other, for it was not truly bending that they possessed. These new benders deemed “witchers,” were stronger, faster, and better than the average human. They had enhanced senses and longer lifespans. They were still ostracized for their mock bending, but they wouldn’t be increasing the population of benders anytime soon, so they were a necessary evil. (For the Chaos made them sterile, a sacrifice for the power they were forced to wield, when bending should have no need for sacrifices).

Thus, the Order of Witchers was created after corrupted bending was made.

There were seven witcher school, each with a different bending discipline.

School of the Wolf; Kaer Morhen; fire bending.

School of the Cat; Stygga, Dyn Marv; air bending.

School of the Griffin; Kaer Seren; earth bending.

School of the Viper; Gorthur Gvaed; water bending.

School of the Bear; Haern Caduch; earth bending.

School of the Manticore; fire bending.

School of the Crane; air bending.

Two fire bending schools, two air bending schools, two earth bending schools, and one water bending school, because water bending was considered a weaker offensive bending discipline, and limited by their element (for you could never truly run out of air; there was earth all around, structures made of stone; and fire came from within you; only water needed a constant source).

Bestowing this corrupted form of bending, forcing Chaos and the Trials upon the young boys, mutated the boys. Their eyes turned yellow and cat-like, they were hopped-up on testosterone and their muscles grew twice as fast as a normal man’s. They became super-humans, almost immortal; for all benders were naturally physically enhanced, but witchers were benders with corrupted bending.

In the early stages, though, the mages tried to create a mock-avatar.

They tried to bestow more than one bending discipline on the young boys, but they all died from the Chaos. The only reason the Avatar was able to harness all four elements was because of their connection to the Forgotten World.

Through all this, the Avatar still existed.

But instead of being treated as a hero, as a symbol of peace and power and the world, they were always hunted down and killed, to make sure that there would never be an uprising of benders ever again.

The moniker “Avatar” was shunned for centuries because it was believed the Avatar oppressed the poor non-benders and abused their abilities; propaganda spread that the Avatar’s mission was to bring a world ruled by benders and magic.

So, every time the Avatar is found, they’re tracked down and either killed, enslaved, imprisoned, or have their bending forcibly locked away by a team of mages and sorcerers.

<><><><>

Cue Jaskier being born.

#i have more written but does anyone actually want to read something like this #this was just the backstory setup #it would be mainly jaskier centric #the witcher #avatar jaskier au #water bender jaskier #powerful jaskier #non human jaskier #don't worry guys he's not dying anytime soon #tldr; jaskier is the avatar #tldr; jaskier is op. hell yea

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jokertrap-ran · 4 years

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(时空中的绘旅人—For All Time—) Clarence Route Translations (Chapter 13-1 暴食: Gluttony)

*For All Time Master-list / Clarence’s Personal Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Maintaining Si Lan’s name as Clarence *Route Tag is #Chapter of Legacy

I faced Clarence within the Cell. He looked at me calmly, as if nothing had just happened.

MC: Clarence, you...

MC: I'm guessing that you'd initially planned on letting the Ice Butterfly out to distract me, while you take the opportunity to sneak behind me and attack me from behind, and then imprisoning me right after.

He muttered to himself under his breath, but didn't agree nor disagree.

MC: What made you change your tune?

Clarence: I have a strange feeling when it comes to you.

Clarence: That's right. I had planned to use the Ice Butterfly to incapacitate you, and then use this chance to cage you, locking you away until the time of the Advent Festival.

Clarence: But… I can't bring myself to utter the spell when I see your back as you fight.

He watched me with something profound hidden within the depths of his dark blue eyes; it was almost as if he was trying to see through me from the inside out.

Clarence: You have a familiarity about you that makes you feel like you're one of my comrades-in-arms.

Clarence: But me, hesitating over a mere "feeling"? ...That makes me a little disappointed in myself.

A look of annoyance appeared on his face and he gently shook his head.

Clarence: I've already told you all the secrets that lie within this Mage Tower now, so there should no longer be any need for you to continue staying here.

He was trying to dismiss me. His words were shrouded in ice, but I couldn't help but to feel that he was being quite hasty by the way he was trying to chase me away...

Besides, I didn't intend to let him escape.

MC: I don't want to leave. I still haven't fully understood the secrets of Mages, because I don't know a single thing about you at all.

He gave a slight frown, looking at me in suspicion before opening the door and walking out of it.

Clarence: Let's talk elsewhere.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

He was still staring at me when we were at the dimly lit stairwell.

Clarence: What an interesting question you ask of. What do you wish to know about me?

MC: I’ve always been observing you, Master Clarence. You’re different from the other Mages. If Mages will all eventually turn into Ice Butterflies, then theoretically speaking, Mages do not live long.

MC: But this Mage Tower was built during the era where the very first Emperor ruled. It’s said that you looked the same as you are now, back then. If that’s so, then why is it that you have perpetual youth and longevity despite the short lifespans of the other Mages?

MC: You painstakingly worked to cultivate powerful Mages and even collaborated with Rorschach to usurp the throne… What other motives do you have, other than the matter of the Advent Ceremony?

MC: You’ve told me personally that the power of a Mage lies in their “desires”, Seven of your “Nine Seats” are criminals, so tell me; what is it that you desire?

Clarence frowned yet again. Looks like he didn’t like the questions I was bombarding him with.

Clarence: You ask too many questions; it’s overbearing. Not to mention the fact that I, personally, do not fancy sharing my personal and private affairs to someone whom I’ve only just met.

Clarence: You are too dangerous...

However, in an instant, his hand was already at my neck.

He slightly moved his fingers, fingertip pressed firmly on my neck. I knew; I was aware just what sort of power these seemingly slender fingers could summon within a heartbeat—

His fingertip brushed lightly against my neck. It tickled, but I knew that that finger of his could summon a magical light filled with killing intent at any given moment.

But instead of flinching away, I looked up at Clarence, smiling.

MC: You're afraid.

MC: You won’t be thinking of getting rid of me to solve the problem if you weren’t guilty of being afraid.

MC: Chief Mage Clarence, why don’t you dare to answer my question? Unless, that is to say that, you’re a coward who dares not face your own past and desires?

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Saying so, I reached out, grasping onto his wrist and moving it away from my neck.

Blue light did not appear from his fingertips.

He allowed me to push his hand away, retracting it back afterwards.

Clarence stayed silent for a while. He nodded towards me, signaling for me to continue walking with him.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

I never thought that he'd actually bring me back to that Red Maple Tree that was protected by magic. I had woken up way too early, so it was still dark out now, with only a few stars decorating the sky.

He slowly walked under the tree, a couple of leaves falling onto him. There was already an abundance of fallen leaves on the ground, but because the tree itself was being maintained by spells, it'll never completely wither away.

A moment later saw him brushing his fingers gently against the trunk of the tree; he stepped away after that one touch.

Clarence: You asked me… Why have I lived for so long? That's right, I have indeed lived for a couple hundred years now.

Clarence: ...I was also just an ordinary Mage at first.

Clarence: I should have originally died just like the other Mages, losing control of my magic, hence turning into an Ice Butterfly. I'm only alive now because of the many strokes of good luck I've had that helped me tide the calamity.

Clarence: I have an ally. I don't know what they look like, but they've always held my hand whenever I fall into the pits of despair.

Clarence: I don't even know why they wish to save me. They'll always appear whenever I'm close to passing out. Even now, I can't even remember how their voice sounds.

Clarence: But I know the warmth of their palm every time they do hold my hand; one that's uniquely theirs.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Just then, a Red Maple leaf fell from the tree; Clarence reached out, catching it and letting it rest on his palm.

Clarence: I know that what I'm saying is far-fetched and bizarre. Not to mention the fact that I can't answer you even if you asked me for more details. I don't even know their gender.

Clarence: They don't wish for me to see them, but they promised; that the day will come where we'll cross paths… So long as I continue living on.

Clarence: They saved me, they influenced me… My entire life was brought about by them.

A gust of wind blew past as he spoke, making him hold on tightly to the leaf, almost as if he was afraid that it'd get blown away by the wind.

Clarence: If I absolutely have to name what my desire is, then I suppose its probably life.

Clarence: I can't help but to feel that the only way I can meet them again is to continue living on.

Saying so, he lowered his eyes to stare at the leaf that he held in his hand.

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Clarence: But this desire of mine can never be granted, because I've already decided to die during the Advent Festival.

Upon reaching this point, he made no move to continue this conversation.

Logically speaking, I knew that I should continue asking him, pressing him for more information. I needed to know how he'd avoided "losing control" like how all the other Mages did, and how he'd managed to prevent himself from aging like humans do...

But it was a little hard to bring myself to do that.

What I saw within his eyes had been loneliness, true and real.

This was the first time he'd ever shown me his true emotions.

Clarence stood under the Maple Tree as the leaves fell on his hair and shoulders.

The person he was talking about must be a senior that's very important to him…

He lowered his eyes, falling back into his own memory palace.

───⋅𝕿𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊…⋆⋅☆

⊹ ˚✩ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦ ✥Chapter of Legacy✥ ◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ✩˚ ⊹

Previous Part: (Chapter 11) | Next Part: (Chapter 13-2)

#时空中的绘旅人 #For All Time #Otome #Translations #Netease #司岚 #Si Lan #Clarence #传承之章 #鳥海浩輔 #toriumi kousuke #Toriumi Kohsuke #Chapter of Legacy

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