#A Fighter helps ease their companions troubles

[cyten0]

A Symphony In Crimson

Act 2: A Movement in White

Chapter 3-A

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You awaken in a field of Spider Lilies. The sky is filled with stars, but with no moon. Lights shift on the horizon… Where are you?

✸ “Ah. Hello there, Fighter.”

You turn around, and see a single pale tree, with Loop sat upon it’s root, fiddling with a silver coin in their hands.

▲ “Oh, hey! There you are!… Wait, how did I get here?”

✸ “You fell asleep, and instinctively projected your mind into my realm. Due to your wish, it happens a little more easily then it would for most like you.”

Loop seems a little… Out of it? They had this weird chipper demeanor before, even during the fight. It feels odd to see it just… gone?

▲ “You doing okay?”

✸ “… I have no BLINDING idea!... I was privy to that little battle you had with the Empress. Even if only vaguely. Hard to see into each other’s realms!... But let’s just say, my feelings on YOU of all people nearly dying for my sake are… Shall we say, complex~”

Right that… would be complicated. You sit down across from them.

▲ “Sorry about that, Loop, couldn’t just let you sit alone for eternity!”

✸ “Sigh Stubborn one, aren’t you?… Regardless of all that, I’m also still grappling with my new nature. And… Minor personality shift?”

▲ “Personality shift?”

✸ “Right. Before, Loop- I was a puppet for the Fool Arcana. My or their representation. But after all that… Now, We’re the same being. I, as the Fool, decided to just. Fully incorporate ‘Loop’ into my persona. Didn’t have much of one before. But now… Neither side of it is fully adjusted to it?”

Ah, you get it. Reminds you of your days back at Jouvente’s house.

▲ “Yeah, changing is tough, huh? Bet the name confusion doesn’t help things.”

✸ “… Name confusion?”

▲ “Well yeah, you got a name for who you were, two actually in your case, but you don’t yet have a name for who you’re becoming? Hard to aim for a change when you don’t got a goal!”

Loop, or the Fool, just stares at you for a bit. Before bursting into laughter!

✸ “HAHAHA!!! Stars, it can’t be that simple, can it?!?”

▲ “Course not, but it helps to do little things like that!”

They laugh for a bit more before calming down.

✸ “Hah… Thank you, Fighter. You always were so smart… Hm. A name…”

They think for a bit, before plucking a single spider lily from the ground, and holding it up.

✸ “… Equinox. That sounds good.”

▲ “Nice! Equinox it is then!”

It’s a really nice name. Think you’ll call them Quin for short.

✸ “Now then. Please, catch me up to speed on what’s happening in the real world?”

You nod, You’re more then glad to. Maybe they can help give some advice…

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You wake up next to Sif. It was nice talking to Equinox. Gonna have to let the others know about the new name. But maybe after breakfast!

Oh right. You wanna test that thing Equinox told you. You ruffle Sif’s hair, making sure to get the spot right at the base of their horn. Right on cue, they start purring! Oh crab, that’s REALLY adorable!! You keep going till… There it is! The horn lights up brightly!

Equinox said that this would help them relax a bunch. Sif’s purring up a storm, so that sounds about right!

You hop out of bed, only for Sif to hop awake. Were they awake beforehand?… Also why are their eyes so wide? Their pupils are practically round with how much their slits have widened.

▲ “Morning. You good there?”

Sif just makes a little mrp noise? Are they not awake?

▲ “Uh? Sif?”

They shake their head.

✦ “Fa”

▲ “Ah, wanna go by that name? Sounds good!”

✦ “Happy.”

They cozy up to you, nuzzling into your side. Oh. Oh they are REALLY out of it… Why are… Crab, you’ve been pranked, haven't you? Change, you hope this doesn’t last too long. Even if it is utterly adorable… Your heart feels very conflicted right now!!!

✦ “Isa. Happy.”

Okay, Isa, relax. S-Fa. You quickly swap the names out in your head, like you learned back in Jouvente. Glad houses have tricks for this. FA is acting like a little critter. What to do now?

… Okay. Food first. But Start analyzing. You head downstairs. Fa starts following you like a puppy. But also they have increased movement tracking, noticing your movements before you've even fully made them. Perhaps allocating conscious thought into instinctive?

You see the others surrounding the table. All your stuff is mostly moved out to that cart you managed to get. You all still need to get a horse, but only after breakfast!

✦ “Food!”

Right, and that. Wonder what Bonnie’s made today? You take a seat with Mira and Odile on the table, and Fa just sort of stands there, looking around.

◆ “Morning? Are they alright? Their horn’s glowing and their eyes...”

▲ “They seem a bit out of it. Had a chat with the local starlit expert last night, who's now going by Equinox. Did a thing, cause Quin said it’d help them relax. Think they pranked me.”

Fa starts batting at your sleeve. Highly attracted to movement. Likely due to increased senses and decreased inhibitions. You wonder if that's how their feral stance works? Is it tied to this?

◉ “Um. Are you. Okay Siffrin?”

✦ “Fa!”

◉ “Oh, Okay! Going with that name officially?”

They nod, before going back to batting your sleeve. Hm. They are having a rather easy time with this. You'd think they'd have more anxiety? Unless this clears it? Might be useful...

Nope. Bad idea Isa. You don't want to be manipulative like that.

Bonnie walks out of the kitchen with a collection of fried wraps? Oh this ought to be interesting! Fa's eyes lock onto the tray and stare the whole way over. They still have priorities, clearly.

✿ “New recipe. Somethin called Jan-big.”

◆ “Jianbing?”

✿ “Yeah, that. Not from Ka bue, but like. A Neighbor? Filled it with chicken and stuff.”

The smell is fantastic as always!

◆ “The way Si- Fa is eyeing up those, we’d best grab our share now.”

✦ “Want.”

▲ “… Yep, better get our share fast.”

You all grab a wrap, and dig in. Crab YEAH, Bonnie really knows what their doing, as always!!

◉ “Oh this is so good!”

◆ “Thank you Boniface.”

✿ “… Thanks.”

Hm… Yeah, you're sure of it, Bonnie’s not doing good. They’ve had this odd face the whole time, and keep glancing at Fa. And it's clearly not about the new mindstate, given their expression. Some form of Upset.

Speaking of which, after you all grab some, Fa didn’t do anything. Maybe waiting for permission? You quietly push the tray over to them.

✦ “Have?”

You nod, and they instantly faceplant into one, eating it in one move, before falling backwards? WOW they're out of it!

They suddenly jolt upright! And their horn and eyes returned to normal!

✦ “Huh? Wha- what happened?”

▲ “You were a bit out of it. How much do you remember?”

✦ “Um… I was really cozy. And… Loop’s Equinox now… Foods called Jianbing? Don’t… remember the details.”

◆ “Well, that’s the important parts.”

And useful to know they can snap out of it easily! Plus decent memory retention, given the lack of focus.

Bonnie just keeps looking at Fa, then looking away when they think their looking back. Right, Time to do the friendly Isa thing!

▲ “Everything alright, Bonbon?”

Bonnie just stares for a bit. Then turns to Fa.

✿ “… You didn’t say you died in the time stuff.”

!!! They WHAT?!? Holy crab?! Also how did- Crab the wish! Of course!!

✿ “I remembered a few of them last night. Guess my wish is doin stuff. But. You crabbing died! In front of me! First you got crushed by a trap, then you got frozen, and then you took a hit from a sadness! You didn’t say THAT would happen!”

◉ “I-Is that true?! You actually DIED?!”

Fa just stares off. Refusing to make eye contact with any of you. They did, didn’t they?

✦ “… yeah. Most of the time that’s… How I had to go back.”

◆ “Gems… In hindsight, it makes sense, but… That’s horrific!”

Crab. They actually, legitimately died for you all. With how unfazed they are, almost certainly a LOT. They shouldn’t have had to do that at all!

✦ “I honestly didn’t mind too much. If someone had to die, better me then one of you.”

You hear them mumble something under their breath.

▲ “What was that?”

Fa just looks away. Yeah, no, You all know better then to just let that slide after all this.

▲ “… Fa. Why do you think it'd be better that way?”

✦ “… I figured… I figured it’s what I deserved.”

What the! Crabbing!!!!

◉ “Change, No talking like that! You don’t deserve anything like that!”

Fa doesn’t respond to that. They don’t even meet your gaze. They clearly don’t believe it. Crab it. You give them a big hug.

▲ “Fa… Sorry we couldn't have been there for you earlier.”

Fa still looks upset. But you get it. You get stuff like that isn’t easily gotten over. They must have all sorts of complicated feelings.

✿ “… Does that mean… I’m gonna see you die a lot more?”

✦ “Yeah. I’m afraid so.”

✿ “Is that what you were gonna warn me of, yesterday?”

Fa doesn’t answer for a bit. Change, there was WORSE?!... Crab, of course there was worse. Quin's proof it could be SO much worse.

✦ “...I… There were two loops where... I didn’t die first. One where everyone else died, cause I wasn’t there. But… But the other… I… The King… You...”

Fa starts gagging!?! Crab!!! It’s just like last time with Quin! What in Change happened that makes them react this badly?!

▲ “Fa? Fa! Take it easy!”

◆ “Gems, what happened?!”

Fa leaps up and bolts it out the door! You rush after, hoping they're alright! They get out the front door, and start heavily breathing as soon as they reach fresh air.

Fresh air? Wait- Crab!!!!

▲ “Anyone got a way to cover smells?”

Odile gets that look on her face. Seems it just clicked with her too.

◆ “Bonnie, that thing we purchased, now might be a good time.”

Bonnie, still a bit shocked, nods and runs over to their bag, and pulls out… Perfume bottles? They start spraying, and the room is filled with a floral scent. Fa’s gagging subsides, but they still look bad.

As Fa sits down, barely moving. Odile speaks up.

◆ “… During that fight, Lo- Equinox mentioned the king was involved the last time you tasted blood. I presume it's related?”

Fa doesn’t move. But slowly nods.

◉ “I-It’s okay, you don’t have to talk about it. N-Not until your ready.”

✦ “...Yeah. It’s… Bonnie won’t see that one for… a while…”

Fa takes some slow breaths. You hold them close for comfort. But it'd be best to change topics, so they don't have to dwell on it.

▲ “Why don’t we go get on the road? Take our mind off things?”

Fa just quietly nods. Alright, time to get that horse!

>>>

You drop by the stables, cart planted nearby. The guy in charge pops out to greet you.

“Ah, saviors! Heard you’d be by! Need of a horse?”

◆ “Correct. Any in mind?”

“Come on, let’s see which of them likes you!”

You all walk in, seeing various horses. You don't have a lot of experience with this, given your city upbringing. But, These animals seem pretty happy! This person must take very good care of them!

Oh. Well. Most of them. A near lightless horse sits in their stable, laying down. Crab this one’s lost a leg… Still tries to pick themselves up to see you all though. They're super friendly, what happened to them?

“Ah, yeah. Poor boy got hit by a sadness, protecting the others. Missing leg is a bad thing for a horse, the other legs will start breaking under the strain before long. I’ll have to put him down soon…”

▲ “Ah.”

Crab, right. You remember reading that at some point. Horses literally can't handle lost legs.

Everyone seems a little bummed out. He reaches his head over the gate, and Fa caresses it. He seems to like you all too… Crab, your poor heart.

✦ “Could?… No, no.”

▲ “What’s up, Fa?”

✦ “Nothing, it’s nothing.”

Well now you GOTTA ask.

▲ “It’s alright, you can say what you're thinking.”

Fa just looks at you. Then takes a deep breath, in and out. Before speaking, in the most quiet and timid voice you’ve ever heard from them. Barely audible, like a light breeze could overtake them.

✦ “I… If I changed them… It could save them. Maybe. But it’s a bad idea and not okay and-”

“Huh? You could save them?”

✦ “No I! I… It’s not natural, they’d be a monster and-”

...You know this is a bit manipulative. They clearly have reservations. But-

▲ “But they’d get to live. Even if you have to keep an eye on them. Y-Y-You don’t have to if you don’t want but...”

◆ “It’s basically what you did to the sadnesses in the house, right? In that case, this might be a good way to get a finer control over that ability, maybe find some benevolent uses for it?”

Exactly! Fa's been avoiding their monster stuff all this time! Maybe getting to do something good could help them a little?

“I can’t say I fully understand what’s happening but… Tell you what, if you can save them, they're all yours. I was already gonna lend them out cheap, savior discount and all but. They're on deaths door. You’ve got my go ahead to try at least.”

Fa looks at you all for a bit, then turns towards the horse.

✦ “...Okay. But. I’m gonna ask him first… What’s their name?”

“Bayard. Was the Best horse here.”

Fa nods and opens the door, going into the pen. They start to caress his mane.

✦ “Okay there. Relax. This will pinch a bit.”

Their hand stops, and you hear a sound of pierced flesh, right as the horse jolts, before relaxing. Fa seems to close their eyes, and focus, as they start to speak.

✦ “It’s okay. It’s okay. Steady. You're badly hurt. You might not make it…. Your legs can’t hold like this, you know that… Because I want to help. But it’ll change you a lot... You won’t be the same. Are you okay with that?"

✦ “…. Yes, they’ll be fine. You might have to come with us, but your master can take care of them… They’ll be fine too… Most of those are gone right now…"

✦ “Okay. You’re sure your ready for this?… Okay then.”

As Fa finishes talking, something starts to move under the Bayard’s skin. The surrounding horses back away in fear.

Then something starts to emerge from the stump of their missing leg with the sound of tearing flesh! Thousands of tiny strands of black flesh twisting and forming, bones ripping out of their body then secured in place, coalesce into the rough shape of a new leg. Dark bone-like flesh pierces out from it, like jagged plates of armor. It’s flesh continues to pulse, even after it’s made.

✦ “There, how does it feel?”

The horse gets up, moving it’s new leg and testing it. Well, that was... slightly worrying, but it looks like it worked!

✦ “Oh thank the Universe. Just tell me if anythings wrong, and I’ll do my best!”

Fa looks tired after that, but at least it's worked out well enough! Strange though, you figured they'd be more recovered by now.

“… I can’t tell if I just saw a miracle of the change god, or something out of a horror story.”

◆ “It’s certainly something, that’s for sure.”

Absolutely! And you guess you've got a new companion!

▲ “Welcome to the team Bayard!”

>>>

Bayard seems to have no trouble with the cart, and has been taking you off to the next town with ease. Fa’s been making constant checkups on them, but has relaxed a bit after Mira suggested they do some tinkering. Odile has been reading that book, Mira has been watching the road, and Bonnie has been trying their hand at paper cranes.

Hm. Fa. You’re curious about that change. Quin mentioned this might happen, so you guess it’s been on both their minds for a while, even before they had a name to aim for...

Well, if their changing, you want to help! Might as well ask more!

▲ “So Fa. Is that the full name or…?”

✦ “Oh! Um. I was thinking... Fantasia? It’s a style of music. I… thought it would be nice.”

◉ “Oh! I like it!”

◆ “More effeminate then I was expecting, but It certainly works.”

◉ “Madame!”

◆ “Ah, sorry? Was that an overstep? I’m not as used to this. Less common in Ka Bue.”

Huh, you'd heard about that. Something about bodycraft? You pretend not to know anything.

✦ “Right, that makes sense. I imagine the ban on bodycraft doesn’t help.”

Oh! That's convenient!

✿ “What! That's a thing?! Crabbing Weird!”

◆ “Yes, officials in Ka Bue have some paranoia about it, figuring it could get out of hand. Meaning those looking to change themselves like that need to go under the radar. I’m more used to it then most there, but It’s still fairly uncommon.”

✦ “Yeah. I get the feeling it wasn’t common back on the Island either, they were a lot more strict on stuff like this. So I’m. Still figuring a lot of this out?"

Huh. So they really don't have much knowledge at all. You'll have to be careful not to influence them too hard.

✦ “I just… knew I couldn’t be Siffrin anymore… Sorry if that makes things weird…”

▲ “Course it’s not weird. This IS Vaugarde! If you need any advice for anything, just ask! I’m looking forwards to seeing how exactly you change, Fantasia!”

Fa blushes a bit at that. Change, you really love them. You hope they get to be more comfortable with themselves! You'll just have to make sure they do it on their own terms.

But then their expression goes sad again.

✦ “I just… I know I’ve been putting you all through a lot lately…”

◆ “While I admit, there’s a lot to take in, and we are still processing them all, it doesn’t change that we are still sticking together.”

Fa still looks nervous about it. Then, Mirabelle perks up, and turns to you all with this strangely cheerful and calm look on her face?

◉ “I think So once said to you ’When everything changes, Nothing changes! In the end, you're still you!’ So even when all this is happening, that much will stay! They know in the end, you’re still you!

ヽ(￣ω￣)ゝ”

Mira quickly shakes herself, acting like normal again.

◉ “Oh! Change, that feels so weird!”

Another possession. Well, who are you to refute the words of Change itself on their own domain?

▲ “Wise and accurate words though! We care about you Fa, and we know that you’ll still be you, no matter how you want to express that! So yeah, we’re gonna help you! You’ve done the same for us more then once!”

✿ “Yeah! Even if you are a dumb crab sometimes!”

Fa smiles at that, and chuckles a bit.

◆ “Agreed. Also, may I remark Fantasia is a far better name then the original version.”

Wait, original version? Was Fa short for something beforehand?

✦ “What’s that mean?”

◆ “Apparently Song and Siffrin’s father liked to give nicknames based on the musical scale. Re, Mi, Fa, So, La. Rather interesting, I suppose. However, Siffrin combined it with a bad pun... FA-llen star.”

Pffftt Crab that’s actually really funny. You can’t help laughing!!!

◉ “Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, huh? Even if So was the only one to officially call themselves your parent… Wait what!?!”

Huh!?!!! Wait, that So character was Fa’s PARENT?!?!!! They looked pretty young for that!!! That shocks you out of your laughing! Oh Crab, you hope you made a good impression!!!

▲ “OH!!!”

✿ “Cool!!!”

◆ “Huh. Well, that’s good to know.”

Fa just stares blankly… Not sure how to process that information… Yeah, that makes sense, finding out that someone you just met actually raised you as their own kid! And Fa doesn't even have memories of them!

Well, better catch up on lost time!

▲ "We better get to know them more, then! Maybe we should take them up on that offer for a call?”

✦ “Oh! Right! I wanna see how their doing!”

Fa pulls out their... console, was it? Either way, it’s time to chat more with them!

[maximwtf]

“Should have known better.”

Kinich x Reader

Words: 2500

Google Docs Pages: 4.1

Warnings: Kinich character story spoilers, angst/hurt w comfort/good ending, saurian death?, platonic relationship

Opening: Kinich is not one for strong reactions, even when dealing with bigger issues. But does his composure falter when a pressure point from the past is pressed?

AN// G/N Reader. Tell me why I completely missed out on Kinich lore even after getting him the first day the banner came out :”D ANYWAY now that I’m in the loop, this just had to be done. Likely not going to write for him again, just felt like doing this one. Hehe, anyway I’ll now disappear to work on another Capitano fic ;; (Was excited about that so I'm sorry if the ending of this is ooc and/or rushed)

“Should have known better.”

Tagging along with Kinich while he was on the job wasn’t something you were used to doing often. But on the other hand, you knew he didn’t mind having you there. Company apart from Ajaw seemed to be something he craved every now and then, not that you blamed him for that. Plus, you never asked for any portion of the funds he was going to get for the commissions even after helping him complete it. Simply enjoying the time spent with him, which had been hard for him to understand in the beginning. Why would someone work on a commission for free, only taking his company as payment? But by now, he seemed to not mind whenever you tagged along. 

And it wasn’t like you were completely useless either. A rather seasoned warrior and a fighter as you were, allowed him to get through commissions faster which wasn’t something he’d turn down especially if it was for free. 

The area this time wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before. Some high cliffs that surely would have frightened the less seasoned, but by this point standing on the edge of one didn’t stir those feelings within anymore. Not even while in the heat of battle, like now. 

Your eyes followed Kinich, hooked onto a saurian after having just gotten rid of one. The pack was rather large this time, having caused so much trouble for the people near the cliffs that they’d asked for help from Kinich. 

Your attention was brought back to the situation at hand soon after. Dodging the saurian’s hook, taking a little more speed into your steps before raising your weapon against it. Eyes keen to follow each step of the creature, making sure the hit would land. But while your attention was occupied, Kinich noticed another one  behind you. An easy target, really. It hadn’t even targeted you yet, so getting it to fall off of the cliff would have been easier than having to spend time on fighting it. Kinich loaded his shot, aiming with practised ease and watching to make sure it hit the creature. Though, as soon as it did the saurian managed to hook itself onto your ankle before the explosion ultimately made it lose its balance. Slipping off of the cliff and into the ravine. Affectively throwing you off of your feet with the heavy pull, quickly starting to drag your form along with it down the steep drop. 

There wasn’t any vegetation to take a hold of, grassy ground with dried bushes and a few flowers. Your hands grasped the ground, digging up dirt along the way. Attempting to kick the hook off of your ankle, but it held on tight. Especially when the saurian was basically dead weight in the ravine. Hanging off of you, making its hold ever stronger.

Your eyes quickly moved to Kinich, aware how little there was you could do anymore. A moment flashing by as pure desperate panic flooded your eyes, no words coming out in the moment. Focused solely on trying to get your body back up as it was actively being dragged into what seemed like the end. But your companion appeared frozen. 

Kinich had but a few moments to react, if even that. Having noticed the hook attached itself and soon after you were already hanging on the edge. Grasping at anything nearby to hold on. But even that feeble moment had been enough to make his mind run a course into a dark pit of memories. 

The young yet such a tough boy who’d been chased out by his father. And by a mere mistake, had watched his by then fragile father stumble. Taking a step back a little too close to the edge of the cliff, and with a heavy thud land on the bottom. 

How his body had frozen just as it had on this day. How his whole body had felt the tremble going through it, something he’d never felt before. A warm pressure at the back of his eyes as his body began to move towards the edge. How he’d seen what remained at the bottom of what seemed like an endless drop, having pulled himself back straight after. Chest tightening by the minute. The young yet such a tough man from then on clutching his small hands into fists. Fighting the tears back down, gritting his teeth as his mind raced. The situation was more of a mess than anything he’d seen before. Yet by some miracle he was able to numb his mind enough to push himself back onto his feet and find a grapple hook to bring his father to proper rest. 

But all that was then. Something he thought he wouldn’t have to ever think about again. Yet the lump in his throat as he approached the edge of the cliff proved him otherwise. But what was he so frightened of? And just then, he heard a thud. Something that echoed for but a mere moment. But a sound that felt like something in him had shattered. No rational thought of ‘I haven’t even seen what happened yet’ was able to ease his mind.  Yet his body felt almost as if it was moving on its own. It had been from the moment he’d watched your fingers slip off the edge. Hurrying there to see what could be salvaged. 

Even if his mind had seemingly decided the fate of the situation, his body hadn’t. He wouldn’t allow something like this to happen again. This was not a way to go, for anyone. Least of all you. 

You felt the ground under your hands slip, the last bit of the cliff giving in under the weight. Falling alongside you and the saurian. The speed of the fall was so frightening you could have sworn your heart stopped beating for a minute, before even the thought of doing your all to survive came to mind. 

The walls of the ravine in certain parts were tight enough for roots to connect from one side to another. Not all of them would support the weight of a human, but a few of the older ones were thick enough to be worthy enough to give it a try. To try and wedge yourself between a pair of them. 

And by a miracle, the Night Kingdom wasn’t going to have you on this day. Not now, at the very least. You’d managed to grip a pair of the roots. Gravel, dirt and smaller rocks trickling down the sides of the ravine at the sudden pull on the old roots. For a moment fearing they would give out like the edge of the cliff had. 

You held your breath, eyes widened. As if even the most subtle movement would restart the fall. Even the saurian had mostly stopped thrashing around, almost like even it understood the gravity of the situation. And if it did, that was a problem. The roots weren’t going to hold up the weight of you and the saurian. It had to go for a chance to get back up to even be possible. 

As soon as the air stilled, confirmed the roots were going to allow you a chance. To watch you fight for your life while hanging off of them by your arms. You started kicking the saurian, wiggling and moving the ankle it was attached to. The hook’s hold had slipped earlier when you’d lodged yourself between the roots, so it was no surprise that the already frightened saurian couldn’t hold on for longer. Its hold slipping, keeping you on the edge up until you heard the loud thud that echoed at the very bottom of the ravine. 

The air was so still, only the sound of your heavy breathing and soft trickle of the gravel that fell from the walls of the ravine. Following the fate of the saurian. Leaving you hanging before even thinking of trying to find a more stable spot between the roots. Kinich being still up on the cliff having slipped your mind completely. Focusing all your energy and instinct on finding the most suitable spot to get on before even attempting to come up with a plan to get back up. 

Kinich so desperately wanted to hesitate, not look down the ravine. Not after the thud that had echoed from the bottom of it. The sound that had stirred those memories to resurface, powerful enough to make him wonder if he even wanted to check and confirm the source of the sound. 

But then again, Kinich couldn't just leave and assume what had happened. Peeking over the edge, keen eyes scanning the bottom of the ravine. Only being able to spot the saurian, unmoving at the bottom. His brows furrowed, eyes moving across the walls of the ravine in confusion. A silent breath escaping him after spotting your form lodged between the roots, having heard the rustle of the dirt falling down from around the roots. Not even giving himself time to be relieved before his mind started ticking. Trying to figure out a way to fish you back up. 

“Hold on, I’ll reel you back up.” He called out, voice stoic as ever. And if you hadn’t been in such an attention requiring situation, you could have heard the slight waver in his voice. 

You peered up, merely seeing the man’s shadow before he disappeared off of the cliff edge. Way to leave someone hanging, you thought. A slight snarl appearing on your face before at last making it close enough to the wall of the ravine to calm down for a moment.

Soon a few rocks fell from the top, catching your attention. A grappling hook slowly lowered itself to your level before Kinich appeared at the top. “Wrap it around yourself.” He instructed, the same tone of voice still there. Doing his all to hold it together. Panicking now would only lead to worse losses, and that wasn’t a price he was willing to pay. 

Though, he would have been a fool to not admit the way he was feeling. Having noticed how his hands had shook while fetching the hook. How his breath had hitched at the thud, how tense he felt even now. 

The tug at the end of the rope caught his attention, peering back down to make sure you were securely attached to the grappling hook. 

Trying your best to help him, you used the wall closest to you. Placing the tip of your boot to each crevice you could spot, making the weight a little lighter for him. 

Soon a heavy breath escaped your lips when the familiar grass appeared back into view, crawling back on the top of the cliff. Kinich taking a hold of you, easily lifting your form back up. Dragging you rather far from the edge without even noticing before he let go. 

You allowed yourself to lay on your back, breathing heavily as the seriousness of the situation slowly started to sink in. Staring at the sky, following the few clouds that travelled across in that time. Turning to look at Kinich, watching as he hadn’t allowed himself to sit down. Leaned against his knees, hair hiding most of his face as he stared at the grass. Breaths heavy. A relieved yet tense silence between the two of you. 

Observing him a little longer, it wasn’t hard to tell that he’d clearly been shaken up by the events. And maybe it hadn’t hit you just as hard yet, but you felt almost worse for him than yourself. It wasn’t often that you nor anyone else saw him like this. 

With a silent groan you sat back up, thinking for a moment before deciding to speak up. “You couldn’t have known it would attach itself to me…It’s okay.” Knowing he wasn’t going to let this slip with you merely telling him that it wasn’t his fault, yet still trying. He wasn't the kind of person to not blame himself when he’d been involved in something like this. “No, I should have known. Waited for you to get out of its range. I knew better than that.” Kinich replied, voice surprisingly calm as he stood back up. Completely dismissing your earlier forgiveness. 

You couldn’t get a word in after, not that there was much you could say. He wouldn’t believe you if you kept telling him that he was not at fault here. Merely watching as he kneeled in front of you, eyes scanning your form before doing a more thorough check up for injuries. Lifting each of your limbs, moving them to make sure that nothing was out of place. Mumbling something about the adrenaline wearing off soon and having to check up on you after that again. Gaining him a slight eye roll from you. 

The chuckle you let out couldn’t hide the nervousness still deep in your system, still feeling the need to make him understand. To make him listen, it wasn’t his fault. That there was no reason to think of how it had happened, but to move on and be glad you’d both made it out in one piece. 

You took a hold of his hand, stopping it from wandering around your form. Obsessively checking that everything was okay. Giving him a look before pulling the man down to sit and calm down. Feeling his hand still tremble, clear that he was still on edge about this.

You may have not known everything of his past, and you didn’t have to. No matter what he may have encountered before you’d even met him didn’t matter now. He was allowed to be shocked and panicked, but what you firmly believed he shouldn’t do was to force himself to be so uptight. To make himself move on so quickly. Especially when that didn’t seem to be an unconscious choice, it was one he forced himself to make. 

“Hey, we’re both alive and well…mostly in one piece. Calm down, eh?” You tried to smile at him. Watching as his eyes stared into yours, careful as he eased out and more willingly sat down. A breath escaping him, giving in. If just a little. 

You placed his hand against your chest, breathing calmly. In a way an attempt to calm yourself at the same time, maybe tricking your brain by doing this for him. Watching as wind so high up in the cliffs blew against the both of you, sitting there in silence. Waiting until the initial shock wore off. 

And likely would have waited for longer. If it hadn’t been for the subtle grunt that escaped you when letting go of his hand. Likely having sprained something in your shoulder due to the fall. But it was enough to bring Kinich back on track, quick in his actions as he tugged you back onto your feet. Mumbling something about not wasting any more time and having to go find a medic. Gaining him another eye roll.

[ranger-crow]

how do ur partner pokemon help out with ranger duties?

They help out a lot actually, it just depends on the circumstances! I’m a pretty skilled battler and since my team is pretty strong, a good bit of work I get assigned involves dealing with stronger Pokémon that can’t be removed through more pacifist means. Like, we’ll battle them till we either chase them off or subdue them for transport.

Ranger duties are also a lot more diverse than people seem to think. It’s our duty to keep pokemon and people alike safe, and to make sure our routes are habitable for these pokemon and safe for trainers to traverse. We act as guides and ,often for gym challengers, as obstacles for them to battle in order to pass. We assist professors with their research, calling in tagged ‘mons when their migrating, reporting anything interesting we find, to even raising pokemon ourselves for the sake of research. Etc, etc- never a dull day as a ranger!

And my companions all have a part to play in this. I couldn’t have asked for better battle partners, and they all have their strengths for traversing the diverse landscape of Unova too.

My Sawsbuck, Hibiscus, knows a lot of status condition moves like sleep powder and stun spore. She’s great with deescalating situations, like a pokemon that’s causing trouble and needs to be relocated. She’s also capable of doing some simple healing to other pokemon until we can get them proper help- and she’s a big help with transporting people, pokemon, or other heavier cargo.

Typhon, my Carracosta, helps a lot with water missions. He’s able to swim out far and deep in the instance of someone drowning, or being stranded, etc. He also hits like a truck. If I ever have to remove a tree after it falls down, Typhon usually breaks it apart and we can carry it off from there!

Pandora, my Scolipede, and my Hydreigon, Feste, are more skilled with battling than anything else. They’re pretty intimidating and I find that they sometimes deescalate a fight before it even has to happen. If a pokemon is picking a fight for food, territory, or even a mate then they usually won’t bother if they know they can’t win (and an eight foot giant poison/bug usually gets the message across lol). Feste‘s flight is great for travel and overseeing the area your patrolling. Pandora is also great with status conditions like Hibiscus, he’s just… more violent with it.

Marauder helps whenever we deal with the sandy deserts in Unova. He’s a great fighter too, but he’s honestly a lot more sneaky than other Krookodile- and with his impeccable eyesight he’s able to help scout things out before we even make a move. Marauder and Typhon are easily the heaviest hitters of the team, no obstacle stands in their way that can’t be broken with one swipe of a flipper or crunch.

And Anansi, my Galvantula, is a big help for cave systems. She can light them up and traverse them with ease. She’s also a big help for when I’m scaling a cliff. She helps move my hooks up so I can get up safely!

Overall, I’d say that my team and I are built for brute force and the dirtier work that comes with being a ranger. We’re the ones usually called to clean up after a heavy storm, or move snorlaxes out of the way, or take care of rouge pokemon that have wandered from their territory. And more than a few trainers have sought me out personally to battle. And it’s not that I can’t handle things delicately, it’s just that when a mission comes up where you need to break a bit of property- I’m usually the first one called lol

Another reason I chose to study in Galar though, these dynamax raids seem right up alley!

[yanderes-galore]

Xiao x adeptus reader would sound nice :)

I can see what I can do. I have trouble following Genshin's stories sometimes so go easy on me, lol. I wasn't sure how to write this as I feel I keep getting Xiao out of character, I'm sorry.

Yandere! Xiao with Adeptus! Darling

Short Concept

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Yandere-like behavior, Jealousy, Corruption, Obsession, Possessive behavior, Manipulation, Violence, Most likely OOC Xiao (my bad I have trouble writing for Genshin)

- Perhaps he met you around the same time he accepted dedication to Rex Lapis.

- You may have even fought alongside each other.

- This forms a bond between you, it's small at first but you two respect each other.

- Xiao's obsession isn't in full swing until most of the Adepti leave the human realm.

- Leaving just you and Xiao as active Adepti in Liyue.

- Xiao is thankful to have someone to ease his burden, while you're thankful for having a comrade in this realm still.

- You're both fighters... but Xiao is stronger than you.

- In fact, he's one of the strongest.

- Battling day and night, he dedicates himself to protecting human life in Liyue even if he's indifferent to them.

- You've also seen how he's like in battle during the war....

- You know Xiao is not someone you want to be on the wrong side of.

- So when Xiao shows signs of obsession and wants you to stay with him all the time, you bow, accepting this for now.

- He and you have been through a lot.

- You can understand if he just wants a fellow Adepti companion for company.

- He is a loner, you know that about him.

- Then you notice the possessive behavior...

- Xiao shows aggression and envy towards the humans that praise you.

- He's also been refusing you when you ask to leave for a little while.

- Something is wrong, you can sense it.

- If you can correct his behavior and fix it... you're unsure.

- Rex Lapis couldn't help you now....

- You remind Xiao that even if you two are partnered, he shouldn't be upset about the humans or you leaving.

- You don't plan on leaving this realm... that should be comforting enough.

- Yet Xiao ignores your comfort.

- Ordering you to stay beside him, to never leave his sight.

- You hate to fight him...

- He's strong and could overpower you with how much pent up karmic energy he has.

- But, you know that Xiao is in the wrong and must be corrected.

- If he wants to break you into listening to him, then he should know you aren't going down without a fight.

- "Xiao. What has happened to you? This is so unlike you!"

- "Unlike me? (Y/N)... we're the only ones here now. Why should I share you with those humans!?"

[eorzeanflowers]

FFXIV Character Roster

Hi! I’m Leigh! This is a simple, at a glance roster for the characters that (occasionally) appear between the random stuff that appears on this blog. There is much more random stuff and reblogs than character posts, just wanting to make that clear to new follows!

This my one and only blog, so everything is mismashed here. I tag my character stuff with their respective flower (i.e. the lily) and my personal thoughts with ‘the rare leigh’ Other than that, I really only tag spoilers for things for up to about 2-3 weeks. I just don’t have the spoons (usually) to tag anything else, apologies!

The Lily

Name: The Lily

IG Name: Orleien Lily

Age: Mid to late twenties

Race: Raen Au Ra

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Bisexual

Status: Single, but not looking

Looking for: Friends, treasure hunters

Available zones: EW (Malboro)

The Lily is a foreigner from the distant shores of Hingashi. Drawn to Eorzea by its incredibly varied geography and ease of disappearing from the world at large, Lily has traveled and explored much and more of the continent. Always on the move, she seems to be attempting to outrun a dark past, a lost liege and subsequent escape from Hingan authorities.

Nonetheless, Lily keeps a chipper attitude and is always up for an adventure or two. The odd job to take an item from someone or clean up a mess spices up her days of exploring old forgotten ruins and tombs.

The Azalea

Name: The Archaeologist

IG Name: Archie Archaeologist

Age: Appears mid to late twenties

Race: Rava Viera

Gender: Non-binary (She/her)

Sexuality: Demisexual

Status: Single, but not looking

Looking for: Friends/companions, people to run away from danger with

Available zones: ShB (Courl)

A quick quip from a Viera with eyes filled with a soul that appears to be older than time itself is how you find yourself speaking with the famed diplomat and eccentric wonder that is the Archaeologist. A cheeky and chatty individual, the Archaeologist will always listen to the woes of an individual and, if she feels the cause is just or she is just feeling generous, try to help them out to the best of her ability. Trouble does seem to follow her as she disappears from one person’s life and reappears in the next. If you ever meet her, be wary, as something exciting and adventurous is soon to follow!

The Rose

Name: Benoit Thibodeux

IG Name: Benoit Thibodeux

Age: Early forties

Race: Wildwood Elezan

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Asexual Biromantic

Status: Single

Looking for: Crewmates, fancy friends

Available zones: ShB (Malboro)

The typical scoundrel with a heart of gold, Benoit has seen much over his time on the waves. Meeting and wooing the various ports of Eorzea and beyond, he has many friends in high places. There is very little that his still dazzling smile and charisma can get him. He harbors a few dark secrets, as a chance encounter with a powerful figure alerted him to his true destiny.

The Sunflower

Name: A’tyla Tvera

IG Name: A’tyla Tvera

Age: Mid twenties

Race: Midlander Hyur

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Homosexual

Status: Single

Looking for: Friends, magic practitioners 

Available zones: Early Endwalker (Malboro)

A Scion from Thanalan, A’tyla is a cheerful and easily excitable mage. She is an elegant fighter, dancing across the battlefield with either chakrams or a sword and focus. She is a wanderer at heart, taking her from land to land, helping as she can. Her apprentice, Arya, and her are a welcome sight across Eorzea.

The Gardenia

Name: Yasha Raile

IG Name: Yasha Raile

Age: Early to mid twenties

Race: Highlander Hyur

Gender: Trans Female

Sexuality: Bi/Pansexual, Polyamorous

Status: In a Polycule

Looking for: Friends, other people to help her save the world

Available zones: ShB (Malboro)

A Warrior of Light, Yasha is quite a mystery. She seems more a background figure, rather than the legendary hero that has saved the realm countless times over. Those that meet her have to be told at a later time that they met her. And honestly, Yasha prefers it that way. The Warrior of Light is a grand figure, righteous, calm, collected, always knows the best way forward. She has never felt any of those things. She has just moved forward the best she can. Nowadays, she can mostly be found with her partners, Lyse, Fordola and Arenvald, enjoying life as a simple and honest soul.

The Snapdragon

Name: Tatiava Eir Arctah

IG Name: Tatiava Arctah

Age: Late twenties

Race: Half Garlean, Half Hyur

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Status: Committed to partner

Looking for: Friends, adventurers

Available zones: ShB (Malboro)

Operative Tatiava Eir Arctah was a member of the Garlean Infiltration Corps, a group of agents that has been gone deep undercover into the greater culture of the Eorzea alliance after the calamity. Long since her inclusion into that group, she defected to the Eorzean Alliance because of one man, the scoundrel intelligence officer of the Company of Heros turned Crystal Brave turned Scion, Riol Forrest. Her whirlwhind courtship with that man with its intrigue and careful slip ups showed her that the Garleans were more the aggressors and villains. Now she is a Scion like her partner, gathering intelligence for the group to help them handle the world ending threats that exist around them.

The Dahlia

Name: Archon Lhei Veha

IG Name: Lhei Veha

Age: Late thirties

Race: Keeper of the Moon Miqo’te

Gender: Nonbinary (They/She)

Sexuality: Demisexual

Status: Married

Looking for: Research aides

Available zones: Early Shadowbringers (Malboro)

An Archon from Old Sharlayan, Lhei Veha is a, as they define it, eternal student of the aetherological kind. They wander the lands of Eorzea trying to figure the changes that happened to the crystal aetherology of Dalamud’s descent. Brushing off all other worldly concerns (including their husbands increasing worry and frustration at them being gone so long.) they march to the beat of their own logic.

The Strelitzia

Name: Beat Caralli

IG Name: Beatrice Caralli

Age: Late twenties

Race: Corvosi Hyur

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Pansexual

Status: Committed to Partner

Looking for: Friends, rogues, scallywags

Available zones: EW (Malboro)

A Corvosi noble’s brat, Beat is a former pirate that seeks adventure with the love of her life, Mai. A brash personality, with a mouth that sometimes says too much, Beat is a fighter. She never backs down from a challenge and has a hard time admitting defeat. A skilled marksman, Beat keeps herself and her partner safe from all that would threaten their small slice of happiness.

The Tulip

Name: Mai

IG Name: Mai Muted

Age: Mid twenties

Race: Midlander Hyur

Disability: Mute

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Demisexual

Status: Committed to Partner

Looking for: Friends, those that need help

Available zones: Shb (Zalera)

Mai is a woman who has pushed past her traumas to enjoy life. A former slave of a crew operating out of the Rhotano Sea, Mai cannot speak. To combat this, Mai acquired an Allagan node to help her converse with people, but it is prone to not accurately projecting her thoughts so she gets annoyed with it easily. Mai has a head for numbers, keeping her and her love’s finances in check while they adventure through the lands of Etheirys.

The Triteleia

Name: Goes by Myste

IG Name: Myste Masked

Age: Unknown

Race: Looks Midlander Hyur

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Asexual

Status: Not looking

Looking for: the downtrodden, those that need healing

Available zones: ShB (Zalera)

A strange man that appeared following the Final Days, Myste is a traveling healer of those downtrodden. With his three part process, he can cure nearly any ailment. Only as long as the recipient believes. Most consider the man a false peddler of healing, and there are a few arrest warrants out for him. Myste is a being of pure Dynamis brought about by Etheirys to help alleviate the suffering on its face. As such he wanders and tries to ease as many burdans as he can.

The Gladiolus

Name: Jana Verity

IG Name: Jana Verity

Age: 28?

Race: Raen Au Ra

Gender: Non-binary (She/they)

Sexuality: Bisexual Demiromantic

Status: Not looking

Looking for: adventures, the excitement of a good fight

Available zones: EW (Zalera)

When people think of the Warrior of Light, Jana’s bravado and skills easily match that description. An accomplished fighter of many styles and a strong personality easily make people believe her title. As an uneasy member of the Scions, Jana has indeed helped shape events with their ‘sibling’ Anaj. Honest to a fault, Jana says what she means and means what she wants. This has her butt heads with the elder Scions quickly and often.

Unknown to her, she is a soul many more times rejoined, from a far distant timeline that nearly became the World that Was once more. Her amnesia does not bother her however, as the new memories she makes in this world are far more precious to her.

The Linnaeas

Name: Deta L’rae and Pola L’rae

IG Name: Deta L’rae and Pola L’rae

Age: 75 (Twins)

Race: Veena Viera

Gender: Female (She/they) (Deta) Non-Binary (They/them) (Pola)

Sexuality: Asexual (Deta) Pansexual (Pola)

Status: Not looking

Looking for: those that need help (Deta), those with coin (Pola)

Available zones: Mid EW (Deta) Late EW (Pola) (Both Zalera)

A nearly inseperable pair of wandering knights, Deta and Pola L’rae are the only suriviors of the Seventh Shard of Etheirys, escaping to the source through a very experimental and unconventional vehicle. The twins took to the new land they were now in with gusto and integrated themselves as adventurers eager for work. Now travelers with more than enough gil to support themselves, the twins enjoy seeing the new sights of this world that now call home.

The Hyacinth

Name: Eulanne aan Saforias

IG Name:Eulanne Saforias

Age: Mid to late twenties

Race: Ilsabardan Elezen

Gender: Non-binary (She/her)

Sexuality: Asexual Homoromantic

Status: Not looking

Looking for: adventures, people in need of a bodyguard

Available zones: Shb (Zalera)

Eulanne aan Saforias, Reaper, Scion, is a quiet reserved individual. Having made a pact with a very powerful voidsent, Eulanne has fits of murderous rage and destructive impulses that she has to stamp down deep in her soul. She is a dedicated member of the Scions, using them to do good while her soul and pact-partner call out for murder and death. For now she has a grip on her wounded soul, but she still worries that one day she will give in to her darker urges.

The Amaryllis

Name: Marisol Jahenna

IG Name:Marisol Jahenna

Age: Early thirties

Race: Turalan Miqo’te

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Bisexual

Status: Not looking

Looking for: adventures, people in need of a bodyguard

Available zones: Shb (Zalera)

A Viper from Tural, Marisol always had a desire to see the world that her four siblings did not share. So she stole to the eastern world and became a wandering mercenary to make gil. Once she had acquired a sizable fortune, she become instead a wanderer that does good and explores the magnificent world of Etheirys. Those that are saved by this savvy fighter walk away with stories of her elegance and beauty in combat.

The Lewisia

Name: Glifet Ortheia

IG Name: Glifet Ortheia

Age: Over three thousand years old

Race: Merycidian Roegadyn

Gender: Agender (it/its)

Sexuality: Asexual Aromantic

Status: Not looking

Looking for: fellow monster hunters, tech savvy people

Available zones: Shb (Zalera)

An ancient Merycidian given new life, Glifet is a monster hunter that gathers rare parts and ingredients for people. As a mechanical being and andriod, it is incredibly durable and knows when to take a hit or flee. It wields its great axe with casual efficiency, cleaving into strong prey with ease. Using its faith and lightning crystals, it can grow in size to better combat some of the larger beasts, occasionally throwing its axe to the side to grapple with the monsters with its bare hands.

The Iris

Name: Lucca Truce

IG Name: Lucca Truce

Age: Late twenties

Race: Sharlayan Lalafell

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Hopelessly bisexual

Status: Not looking

Looking for: engineers, inventors

Available zones: Shb (Zalera)

A member of Garlond Ironworks, Lucca is a prodigy of engineering. Or so would her flying boots insinuate. In realty the poor Lalafell can barely keep any other invention together. Techincally out on a years long assignment as a gleaner for her mother, Lucca enjoys the life of tinkering with magitek and allagan machines. It would be a perfect life if not for her hopeless crushes on her bosses, Cid Garlond and Jesse Jaye. She can barely handle the pressure of working for them!

The Aconite

Name: Tista-Moa Cailei

IG Name: Tista-Moa Cailei

Age: Mid thirties

Race: Lakeland Mystel

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Bisexual

Status: Not looking

Looking for: pawns, others with power

Available zones: Mid EW (Courel)

A former member of the Crystarium Honor Guard, Tista-Moa has embraced her new life in the void. A brilliant mind and a selfish edge, she plots to usurp all power that lords over her. The Light of a Warden protecting her from the Astral corrupting aether of the void and a heavy heaping of Draconic aether from her current lord Golbez, she now has the power to back up her smarts. Soon she will arrive at the Source, and carve out a place for herself to lord over.

The Dicentra

Name: Cissnei Eclaire

IG Name: Cissnei Eclaire

Age: Late twenties

Race: Raen Au Ra

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Demisexual

Status: Not looking

Looking for: a good fight, those that need defending

Available zones: EW (Courel)

A brilliant fighter from Bozja, Cissnei is a Scion that works by herself most of the time. Seeking fights and causes that she can defend is her modus operandi. She is a very skilled gunbreaker, having it be her specialty. Blessed by the echo, she fights to protect the star. And for her own enjoyment.

[mnmovdoom]

I spent one year away from digital art and return with Misty and his blankies. You can pinpoint when I gave up.

ANYWAY, I just fell in love with Misty and his sniper poncho and had to do something about it. 

White armour was not the best when it came to camouflage. At least, on normal planets that weren’t covered in snow.

Misty could perfectly use the standard-issued ghillie or mesh blankets on missions. 

But his blanket had sentimental value. It was the blanket he had brought from home, when he left his planet to join Imperial ranks. It was the blanket he had curled himself in to sleep at night. It was the blanket that had muffled his screams when training got too hard. It was the blanket that had accompanied him in every mission.

Whenever Misty needed to feel safe, he just had to wrap himself in his blanket.

So yeah, his blanket was special and he could perfectly fashion it into a hooded poncho with practised ease and the help of an inconspicuous pin. Misty took excellent care of his blanket, washing it with laundry detergent and fabric conditioner, and mending it by hand whenever necessary - which, considering his job, wasn’t too often.

Until his stupid new sergeant came along and dragged Misty and the others into trouble, that is…

It’s not like Misty has a problem with shooting close-range. Kark no, nothing like some close-up action to brighten the day. 

Crait, however, was a kriffing disaster for SCAR squadron and for Misty’s blanket. Sure, the armour did its job and protected Misty’s body. Mostly. But the blanket wasn’t in the armour. And no matter how skilled Misty is with a needle and thread, no matter the amount of detergent and fabric conditioner he uses, his poor blanket is never going to fully recover from Crait: there were so many blaster holes, the fabric was so charred that Misty had to cut off parts of it and desperately try to stitch together what remained.

His blanket is irremediably scarred and a lot smaller than what it used to be. Sure, it’s still wearable but… after such a close call, Misty isn’t certain he wants to risk his blanket, the one thing he has from home, the one constant companion in his life, out there in the battlefield. It seems Misty will have to deal with the standard issued ghillies or mesh blankets… no matter how inadequate, how wrong it feels. How treasonous it is to wrap himself in a mesh blanket before stepping out of the transport.

Misty is precisely contemplating professional life without the reassuring presence of his blanket (currently draped over his shoulders) when Sergeant Kreel walks in the barracks. Not that Misty bothers looking up from the stitched hem of his blanket…

At this time of the day, the barracks are usually empty - especially on therapy days. Each member of SCAR squadron has his own little ritual to be carried out before therapy, and Misty’s is wrapping himself in his blanket and thinking about life.

(Though, ever since the end of the war, Misty spends a lot of time alone, in the company of his blanket.)

Kreel’s steps approach, yet Misty remains impassive, thumbing at the hem of his blanket. 

Only when something meticulously wrapped in a TIE fighters-themed paper lands on his lap does Misty look up, to see Kreel standing with his arms crossed and his helmet tilted to the side. Immediately, Misty is wary of whatever might be in the package and he tugs his blanket a little more over his shoulders. 

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with that blanket,” Kreel comments as he invites himself to climb up to Misty’s bunk and sit beside him. “But you never mentioned that blanket during therapy.”

Maybe because it’s Misty’s blanket?? What’s the point of telling the therapist about his blanket, anyway? That’s just drawing attention to the blanket and Misty has been lucky enough that nobody ever tried to do as much as touching it.

“I noticed you fixed it after Crait,” Kreel points out, helmet tilted to the side. “I take it this blanket is important to you.”

Making a displeased face under his helmet, Misty scowls at Kreel. Crait was years ago and the sorry state of Misty’s blanket was never commented on, before:

“Your point, sarge?”

“My point is that I’m trying to hold this squad together and get my men back on their feet,” Picking up the wrapped package from Misty’s lap, Kreel smacks him on the shoulder with it. “And I know you’ve been upset over that karking blanket! That’s alright, I was upset over my lightsabre too.”

Except that Kreel’s lightsabre was fixed and is still functional. Misty’s blanket is but a sad shadow of what it used to be!

“With all due respect, sarge…” Though as things have been, SCAR squadron doesn’t exactly respect Kreel anymore. “... you didn’t have to cut off half of your karking laser-sword and stitch up the rest…” Misty grunts, holding Kreel’s gaze through the visor. 

“No” Kreel agrees in a patient tone. “But I can understand your attachment to that blanket,” A pause, and Kreel shoves the package into Misty’s hands. “And that you blame me for the karky state your blanket is currently in.”

Damn right, kriffer.

Reluctantly, Misty starts to unwrap the package. There’s a box under the wrapping paper, and without much enthusiasm, Misty picks at the flap to get it open. What is this kark, a new fancy way to give out assignments? Isn't SCAR squadron supposed to be off-duty during the 100 days of therapy (and all the days that lie in between…?)

Like the contents of the box can bite him, Misty slips his index and thumb into the box, carefully… and grabs something soft. Frowning, he pulls out a blanket. It’s green, the gentlest green Misty has ever seen, and he spends one solid standard minute staring at the blanket without being able to even form a thought.

Next to him, Kreel shifts slightly on the mattress, drawing Misty’s attention.

“What the kark, Kreel…?”

Like Misty is failing to see the obvious, Kreel gives him a noncommittal shrug:

“It’s an apology.”

Still too shocked, Misty looks between the blanket and his sergeant. Then, he actually starts to feel things.

The first is outrage. How dare Kreel think that Misty’s blanket can be replaced??

Next comes hate. This stupid sergeant and this stupid new blanket!

Then comes  bewilderment. Why would Kreel give Misty a new blanket?

Slowly, Misty pulls out a glove and runs his fingers over the fabric. It’s soft, softer than his blanket despite all the care he puts into it. It’s also the fluffiest thing Misty has ever touched, even fluffier than a Tooka kitten. It feels very nice to the touch and is probably very warm too. The anticipated cosiness is soothing, relaxing.

The more Misty pets the blanket, the more his thoughts quieten into nothing, until he’s just appreciating the feeling of fluffy fabric under his fingers.

It takes Misty arranging his blanket on his shoulders to remember that his sergeant is sitting right there next to him, watching. All of a sudden, Misty is awfully self-conscious and straightens up, letting his blanket fall down his back, then puts the green blanket away, standing at attention even though he’s sitting on his bunk. 

“I don’t understand, sarge…” Misty says, quietly. Warily. SCAR squadron aren’t regular troopers, but still, something rings too dangerously personal to having his superior officer knowing about… the blanket. Not to mention, watching Misty zone out thanks to another, fluffier blanket.

With a sigh, Kreel seems to deflate. 

“I realised I’ve been doing a kark job as your commanding officer,” Kreel usually talks in a fact-stating tone - or he’s being a sarcastic, corrosive bastard. This change is strange and, unconsciously, Misty grabs his blanket in one hand and the green blanket in his other hand. “And as I said, I’m trying to hold this squad together and get my men back on their feet. If you need blankets, I’ll get you blankets.”

Misty almost points out that a green blanket will definitely get him spotted on a job, but he keeps his mouth shut, opting instead to consider Kreel’s words. The sarge was the first to throw a fuss over the whole group therapy thing, even though Lord Vader himself commanded SCAR squadron to attend. 

And the core problem, as agreed by Misty, Aero, Cav, Shrap, Mic, and Zuke, is that Kreel sucks at being their sarge. Their old sarge was their friend, almost like a big brother. He had their backs. He knew them personally. He got them treats. He looked after them. He let Misty and his blanket be. He never got sidetracked by petty kark and never risked his men’s lives on stupid vendettas to show off and to soothe a bruised ego. 

Which… Kreel very much did just for the sake of beating Skywalker on lightsabre duels. The first time it happened? Misty wasn’t particularly annoyed. The second time it happened? Getting stranded was annoying. The third time it happened? That cost Misty his blanket. Not fun. And from then on, until being pulled into Lord Vader’s office, SCAR squadron had been at war with their sergeant. 

(Misty is pretty sure Kreel has been taking additional therapy from Skywalker. Everyone does, at some point. Misty himself has and will continue to.)

“So, if you don’t want to bring up stuff during therapy, or if you don’t want to tell Skywalker about something…” Another noncommittal shrug, and Kreel’s visor is fixed firmly on Misty’s. “... bring it up to me, Misty.”

Still holding both blankets, it’s Misty’s turn to shrug, like this isn’t a big deal. Like he doesn’t have Kreel in the crosshairs of his scope to take him out as he tries to build bridges. 

“You’re pretty observant when you want to, sarge,” Misty replies simply. That earns him a snort, and finally Kreel jumps to the floor. Without looking back, he heads to the far end of the room, towards the door. “Hey, sarge?” That gets Kreel to stop and glance over his shoulder. “Thanks.”

With a nod, Kreel looks away again and leaves. Alone, Misty looks between the two blankets, thumbing at both. 

It seems his blanket has a friend, now. Without bothering to remove his helmet or any piece of his armour, Misty, still holding his trusty old blanket, wraps himself in the new green blanket. The cosiness and comfort are immediate. Humming in content approval, Misty  remains perched on his bunk, his mind blissfully blank, until it’s time to go to group therapy with the rest of the squad - and their sarge.

[dmsden]

A History Lesson - Looking back at D&D’s history

Hullo, Gentle Readers. Well, this is the 5th Monday in March, and that means I get to write about anything I want! It’s also my birth month, which means it’s my anniversary of getting into D&D (42 years!), and that has me feeling nostalgic. Coupled with a discussion I had recently with some friends, I thought it would be fun to look back at the various editions of D&D and give you all a bit of history. I’m not going to get into Gygax vs Arneson or any of that. I’m only talking about the published game itself, not its creators or its storied origins.

The original D&D (or OD&D as it’s sometimes called) came in a small box. It had three booklets inside - Men & Magic, Monsters & Treasure, and The Underworld & Wilderness Adventures - along with reference sheets and dice. Each was softcover and roughly the same dimensions as a DVD/BluRay case. The game was pretty rudimentary - for one thing, it assumed you already had a copy of Chainmail, D&D’s direct wargame predecessor. It also recommended you have a game called Outdoor Survival for purposes of traveling through the wilderness. It had only three classes - fighting man, magic-user, and cleric - and nothing about playing other races. It did have the insane charts that 1st edition would ultimately known for, and it was possible to play a pretty fun game of D&D with it, as its popularity would come to show.

The game expanded through similar chapbooks - Greyhawk, Blackmoor, Eldritch Wizardry, Gods Demigods & Heroes, Swords & Spells. With the exception of the last one, each brought new facets to the game - new classes like Thief and Monk, new spells, new threats. It was clear the game was going to need an overhaul, and it got one.

I consider this overhaul to yield the real “1st Edition”, as so much of the game didn’t exist in those original games. The game split into a “Basic” game, just called Dungeons & Dragons and Advanced Dungeons & Dragons.

The basic game was a boxed set that included a rulebook, a full adventure module, and dice...or, well, it was supposed to contain dice. The game was so popular and new in those days that demand for dice outstripped production. My copy of D&D came with a coupon for dice when they became available and a sheet of “chits” - laminated numbers meant to be put into cups (we used Dixie Cups with the name of the die written on it), shaken, and a random number pulled out without looking. It was meant to introduce new players to the game, so it was a trimmed down version. Races were human, elf, dwarf, and halfling, and classes were fighter, cleric, magic-user, and thief. The box only included rules for going up to 3rd level, with the intention that players would then graduate into AD&D. This is where I joined, with the old blue cover box set and In Search of the Unknown, before Keep on the Borderlands even existed.

AD&D was the game in its full glory. Along with the races I mention above, we got half-elves, half-orcs, and gnomes. The four basic classes also had sub-classes, like paladin and ranger for the fighter, druid for the cleric, illusionist for the wizard, and assassin for the thief. There were rules for multi-classing, as well as “Dual-classing”, a sort of multi-class variation for humans only, which, when done in the correct combination, could yield the infamous bard...which didn’t actually yield any bard abilities until around level 13 or so.

This edition had 5 different saving throws for things like “Death Magic”, “Petrification & Polymorph”, “Spells”, and so on. It had the infamous Armor Class system that started at 10 and went down, so that having a -3 AC was very good!  It also had specific attack matricies for each class; you would literally look on a table to determine the number you needed to roll on a D20 based on your class, your level, and your opponent’s armor class. It was fun, but it was very complicated.

It also had some, frankly, shitty rules. There was gender disparity in terms of attributes, which my group totally ignored. Because the game designers wanted humans to be a competitive the game, and because non-humans had so many abilities and could multiclass, non-humans were severely limited in the levels they could achieve in most classes. In fact, some classes, such as monk and paladin, were restricted only to humans.

As the years went on, things got a bit muddled. It probably didn’t help that the rules in Basic D&D and AD&D didn’t perfectly line up. In D&D, the worst armor class was a 9. In AD&D, the worst armor class was a 10. All of this led to an overhaul, but not one considered a separate edition. AD&D mostly got new covers and new books, like the Wilderness Survival Guide and Dungeon Survival Guide, Monster Manual 2, and the Manual of the Planes. It got a number of new settings, too. In addition to the default Greyhawk setting, we got the Forgotten Realms setting for the first time, details of which had been appearing in Dragon Magazine for years, thanks to the prolific Ed Greenwood. We also, eventually, got the whole Dragonlance saga, which yielded the setting of Krynn.

In this new version, Basic D&D broke off into its own game system to some degree. Elf, Dwarf, and Halfling started being treated like classes rather than races, with specific abilities at different levels. Higher level characters could be created using progressive boxes - Expert, Companion, Master, and Immortal, each with its own boxed set and supported by Mystara, a completely different setting that got its own updates over the years. It was odd, because D&D essentially was competing for players with AD&D, and I remember arguments with friends over which version was better (I was firmly in the AD&D camp.)

In 1989, when I was in college, they finally brought forth 2nd edition D&D. This streamlined things a little. Armor Class still went down, but now attack rolls boiled into a single number called To Hit Armor Class 0, or THAC0. It made the whole process of figuring out what you needed to roll a bit less cumbersome, but it was still a bit awkward. The classes got a lot of overhaul, including making Bard its own core class. But what I remember best about 2nd edition was the boom in settings. This was the age of settings, and many beloved ones got started, including Dark Sun, Planescape, Ravenloft, and Spelljammer.

It was also the age of the “Complete Handbooks”. They brought out splatbooks about every class and race in the game, as well as books expanding several concepts for the DM, such as the Arms & Equipment Guide, the Castle Guide, and the Complete Book of Villains. There were also splatbooks about running D&D in historic periods, such as Ancient Rome, among the ancient Celts, or during the time of the Musketeers. The game got new covers for the rule books again, and a bunch of books about options started coming out. It was a boom time for books, but many people complained there was too much.

Without going too deep, TSR ended up in severe financial troubles. They declared bankruptcy, and there was real fear of the game going away. And then Wizards of the Coast (WotC) stepped in. They helped TSR get back onto its feet, and they helped produce some modules specifically engineered to help DM’s bring an end to their campaign...possibly even their whole campaign world...because something big was coming.

That something big was, of course, 3rd edition D&D. The game got majorly streamlined, and many sacred cows ended up as hamburger. AC finally started going up instead of down. Everything was refined to the “D20″ system we’ve been playing ever since. Races could be any class. There were no level or stat limits for anyone. After years of the game being forced into tight little boxes, it really felt like we could breathe. I had stopped playing D&D, but 3rd edition brought me back into the fold. I often say that 3E was made for the players who’d felt constricted and wanted more flexibility.

The trouble with 3E, and its successor 3.5, is that it was still a dense and difficult game for newcomers to get into. It’s been acknowledged that D&D essentially created many of the systems we see and know in other games - experience points, leveling up, hit points, etc. But trying to break into the experience for the first time was difficult. The look of 3E was gorgeous, but I understood that it must seem awfully daunting to someone who’d never played.

4E and its follow-up, Essentials, was an attempt to course correct that. They tried to make this edition incredibly friendly to new DMs, and, frankly, they succeeded. By creating player classes and monsters and magic-items that were all very plug and play, they did a great job of creating a game that someone who had never DMed before could dive into with no experience or mentor and start a game pretty easily. Encounter design was given a lot of ease, and there were promises of a robust online tool system that would help out with many of the more tedious aspects of playing.

There was also a lot of shake up in terms of choices. Suddenly, new classes and races were proliferating like crazy. We got the dragonborn, the tiefling, and the eladrin right in the core book, but we said good-bye to the gnome and half-orc at first. Suddenly the warlock was the new class everyone wanted to try. We got paragon paths and epic destinies that would really shape a character as time went on. The game went very tactical, as well, which some of us loved. The concept of rituals came into the game. Later books like the Player’s Handbook 2 and 3 gave us back gnomes and half-orcs, and also gave us minotaurs, wilden, shardminds, and githzerai. We got new psionic classes, brand new class concepts like the Runeknight and the Seeker...

But there was a tremendous backlash. People felt that, in making the game so very plug and play, they’d taken a ton of choice away from the players. Without the tools (which were never that robust, frankly), it was almost impossible to navigate the massive panoply of options. And, worse, it was harder and harder to develop encounters without those tools. People complained that the game had gone more tactical in order to sell miniatures and battlemats. Given that I have never played the game without miniatures and battlemats (since I started in the days when D&D was still half-wargame), I found this odd, but I also understand my style of play isn’t everyone’s.

The one argument I will never understand is that it didn’t “feel” like D&D, or it was somehow ONLY a tactical game and not a role-playing game any more. Again, given that the original game didn’t even call itself a role-playing game, this felt odd. Personally, I roleplay no matter what game I’m playing. If I’m playing Monopoly, I’m roleplaying, doing voices, and pretending to be something I’m not. I honestly enjoyed 4E, and I know a lot of folks who did, too. A lot of it may simply come down to style of play. But I also enjoyed all the games that came before, including Pathfinder. To paraphrase the YouTube content creator The Dungeon Bastard, “Does your game have dungeons? Does it have dragons? Great. I wanna play.”

As a sidenote, in the months leading up to 4E’s release, a lot of internet videos were released by WotC emphasizing the nature of change and talking about differences in the rules. They also released some preview books showing the direction they were heading. WotC must have anticipated that people were going to find this edition very different indeed. They also cleverly brought in some very funny folks - Scott Kurtz from PVPOnline and Jerry Holkins & Mike Krahulik from Penny Arcade - and got them to play D&D for podcasting purposes. Looking back, this must’ve brought in a lot of listeners who might never have played D&D and given them a reason to try it out.

After its release, WotC clearly noted that missteps had been made, as this edition of the game was losing them players. They began work on what they referred to as D&D Next, and, this time, they did massive amounts of playtesting, some of which I participated in.

I don’t feel like I have to describe 5E to any of you, Dear Readers, as you could go to virtually any store and pick it up. I am a big fan of 5E’s simplicity and elegance, and I suspect this is the edition of D&D we’re going to have for some time to come, especially given its popularity. Given the effect of podcasts like Critical Role (and I might save an article on Critical Role’s importance to D&D until my next Freestyle article), D&D is likely more popular now than it’s ever been, with a much wider and more diverse audience than ever before.

I know I’m painting with broad strokes here, but I hope this was, at least, entertaining, and maybe you learned something, Gentle Readers. Until we next meet, may all your 20s be natural.

[away-from-anthills]

prologue-

How did they do it?

Antstep mulled the question over as his eyes remained glued to the massive boulder that sat squarely between the four oaks. Four figures sat positioned at the top, their ears pricked as they listened to the groups of chattering cats around them. The smallest of them was exchanging pleasantries with a large blue-gray tom. The largest, a ragged yellow molly, looked away to the north. The sleek gray tom next to her twitched his tail with impatience.

“Those ShadowClan buggers are always late,” he grumbled, but just as he finished his sentence the big yellow molly besides him shoved his shoulder. A group of small, skinny cats entered the clearing, led by a rather handsome red tabby.

“Greetings,” announced the red tom. He effortlessly leapt onto the rock as the conversations died down. “Pardon us for being late. Our youngest queen was giving birth, and it was not an easy one.”

“It’s always something, isn’t it,” started the sleek gray tom, but before he could finish the thought the yellow molly draped her tail over his muzzle.

“Shall we begin?”

The others nodded, and so the smallest of the group, Tulipstar, cleared her throat to speak.

Antstep had always admired Tulipstar. She was impeccably small, about the size of an apprentice, despite RiverClan cats like her usually being large and girthy. Some say it was due to a birth defect- but others in the elders’ den opined that StarClan had made her so small because otherwise she would simply be too much of a force to be reckoned with.

“RiverClan has not been doing well as we would have wished it to,” she admitted. “Rogue groups have been on our borders. We have allotted them territory for the time being to shut them up- but come these next few moons, when our apprentices are ready for battle, we shall take our land back.” She dipped her head and awaited the next cat to come forward and speak.

“SkyClan, however, has been doing wonderfully,” started the sleek gray tom.

“It’s always wonderfully, ain’t it, Pigeonstar!” heckled some cat near the southern edge of the clearing behind Antstep.

Pigeonstar’s face furrowed, and then he continued. “Our most recent batch of apprentices became skilled warriors, and I am pleased to introduce them to you by their proper warrior names at this Gathering. Everyone welcome Birchtail, Nettlebark, and Stoneclaw!”

Pigeonstar doesn’t usually mention new warriors so fast, thought Antstep, and then he looked over in the direction Pigeonstar was gesturing to to see three gray tabbies identical to the SkyClan leader. Oh- Of course he’s introducing them so fast. They’re his kits.

“The greenleaf drought has been merciful to SkyClan this year, and we thank it for that. Besides the apprentice graduations, little else of note has happened in SkyClan since we last met.” He sat back down. The red tabby stepped up to speak.

“While we in ShadowClan are not doing as well as we had hoped we would, we are doing quite well. You may have heard about the fire that recently destroyed part of our territory. While we are lucky that most of us have emerged safe, three of our warriors- Turtlewing, Darkwhisker, and Stormfoot- unfortunately lost their lives to the blaze.”

A ripple of condolences echoed throughout the clearing. Currantstar eased his body slightly, leaving the clearing a moment to understand. Antstep noted burn scars at Currantstar’s feet- clearly, despite Currantstar’s young age, this was a cat who took up the mantle of leadership fully knowing what it would entail. He seemed… almost perfect. The fact he was quite a handsome thing- especially for a ShadowClanner- didn’t help.

“However, tonight we celebrate new life within ShadowClan. Just before we left, Nightwater gave birth to four healthy kits, all her spitting image: Ravenkit, Blackkit, Sharpkit, and Juniperkit!”

Another ripple, this time of celebration, echoed throughout the clearing. Pigeonstar seemed slightly disgruntled that his children’s warrior names had not received as much applause.

As soon as he had begun, Currantstar stepped back. A gaunt, blue-gray tom stepped up. His face was long and bony, and his pelt was crisscrossed with scars. His eyes were weary, and the bumps of his spine were visible from age.

Antstep felt his chest swell as he watched the tom open his mouth to speak. After all, this cat had been his leader, his mentor, the closest thing to a father Antstep had known.

Shalestar, the almighty leader of WindClan.

“WindClan has been faring well this past Greenleaf. Like our SkyClan friends, we are lucky to be treated kindly by the drought.”

Antstep looked around. Rainleap, the WindClan deputy, stood just below the great rock, a proud grin on his face as he studied every syllable that left Shalestar’s lips. It was generally accepted within WindClan that, as Shalestar was upon his final life, Rainleap would soon ascend as Rainstar- and everyone deeply anticipated the spotted tabby’s leadership. He was charismatic, he was courteous. He knew everyone and everything in WindClan like the back of his paw to the point that, if you brought him a leaf from any weeping willow within the territory, he could tell you not just what tree it was from but the exact bow and branch it had resided upon. Rainleap was to become a wonderful WindClan leader- even Pigeonstar, the grumpy sod, seemed to appreciate him.

“However, the last moon has not passed by without its troubles. An illness swept through our camp. Nearly all of us survived- unfortunately, our dear Palefeather passed from the illness.”

There was audible sadness from some cats near the northern end of the clearing.

“You may recall her as our former medicine cat, who served us many moons before she retired to the elder’s den last leaf-fall. She was a wonderful companion to me in the darkest hours of my leadership. She was an extraordinary teacher, she was an adamant follower to the stars above, a devotee to her kin, and a gifted healer for all of us in WindClan. We miss her terribly.”

The medicine cats, who were in their own little corner off to the side of the Great Rock, seemed heartbroken by the news. Whitetooth, the WindClan medicine cat and Palefeather’s apprentice, looked more alone than ever, despite the sympathies uttered to them.

“However, with the end of a time, another always begins. I am proud to introduce  our two newest apprentices- warrior apprentice Twigpaw and medicine cat apprentice Marblepaw!”

Twigpaw, who was directly behind Antstep with his mentor Molethroat, was lapping up the attention. Marblepaw, however, seemed alarmed. She leaned into Whitetooth’s side, and her mentor draped their tail around her.

“We also have a litter of kits to announce,” continued Shalestar. Molethroat couldn’t hold in his excitement. “Those are my kits!” he exclaimed to the mingling cats from other Clans. “They look just like my mate! I love them so much!”

Shalestar, however, was calm, even though there was a sliver of optimism in his voice. “We are proud to announce Cherrynose’s kits- Olivekit, Rosekit, Amberkit, Brindlekit, and Patchkit.”

“Oh, all of them are so wonderful,” continued Molethroat, his whiskers twitching with sheer joy. “Rosekit and Amberkit are so smart! They amaze me every day. And Brindlekit is so bold, and Olivekit is so thoughtful, and Patchkit is so kind… They sneak out of the nursery to wake me up from the warriors’ den nearly every morning. And my mate is so patient with them, I’m the luckiest cat in the world to have her. I tell you, I could go to StarClan tomorrow and I still would think I had the greatest life…”

Antstep looked around. WindClan was as peaceful as he had ever known it to be. Goldenpaw and Milkpaw, two WindClan apprentices, signed to each other, poking fun at the other leaders. Russetfoot, Rockscratch, and Emberheart, three WindClan warriors, were chatting to a trio of RiverClan cats. Even Sandwhisker- the sister of Palefeather, and the oldest WindClan warrior- looked content, despite the loss she had suffered the prior moon.

Antstep never knew if he would fully fit in WindClan. But this is a WindClan he was, for the most part, content living alongside.

A cold chill snapped Antstep out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see the largest cat take the stand as Shalestar stepped back.

Tatteredstar had been ThunderClan leader for a very, very long time. She had been one of the most formidable fighters ThunderClan ever knew- and the scars crisscrossing her pelt gave plenty to show for it. She could kill a rat just by looking at it from the right angle, they said. No leader dared to mess with her.

“ThunderClan has been doing pleasantly enough. Juncopaw, who you may recall from his introduction last Gathering, has elected to train as a medicine cat, and so he will be trained by Emberblaze. I expect her to pass down all she knows to him. We have many mollies due for kits within the next moon. We are all very excited about it- but it will undoubtedly mean ThunderClan has more mouths to feed.”

Without warning, she turned to Tulipstar. She was nearly thrice as large as the RiverClan leader, and she easily had dozens more scars. “I am making a request that RiverClan gives up Sunningrocks to us immediately. I understand this is sudden news- but RiverClan, if they know what is best for themselves, will back off of the territory.”

Many incensed RiverClan cats jumped up to speak- but most of them found their words lost when Tatteredstar shot them a pointed glare.

Tulipstar, however, stepped towards Tatteredstar, nothing breaking her green gaze as she stared upwards to the massive yellow molly. “RiverClan has fought for seasons to keep Sunningrocks. We, too, need the territory, for our own mouths to feed. I thought we had reached an agreement last leaf-fall that RiverClan could hold the territory until the leaf-fall after. We still have a season left on that agreement.”

“Old agreements mean nothing now.”

“If ThunderClan wants more mouths to feed, expand the territory elsewhere, Tatteredstar. We both know your warriors are capable. They will not be intruding on RiverClan’s hard-earned territory.”

The two mollies slowly inched towards each other, their noses wrinkled and their lips slightly curled. The tension between them was palpable, and no other leader dared to speak. This was Tulipstar and Tatteredstar’s score to settle and theirs alone. Their respective deputies, Trufflepelt and Eelwhisker, tried to shuffle towards them- not only to back them up but to pull them away from each other if claws were unleashed.

The clearing went dead silent.

Even though WindClan was in no way involved, Antstep felt fear coursing through his veins as he watched the two leaders stare at each other inches apart.

Then, Tatteredstar sheathed her claws into the matted fur that bunched at her feet. “You’ve got a nerve in you, runt,” she said, with hints of respect and perhaps even something resembling affection. “RiverClan can have Sunningrocks for now.”

The two backed away from each other, Trufflepelt and Eelwhisker eased, and the tension slipped away as the murmur of Clan cats returned.

“I suppose the Gathering is over, now,” Shalestar said. “Let us return to our camps in peace.”

As Rainleap began to organize WindClan, Antstep still felt adrenaline rush through him from the confrontation between Tulipstar and Tatteredstar- as well as a bit of awe. The way all the leaders composed themselves so well. The way Tulipstar didn’t back down, the way Tatteredstar knew when to call it quits. The charisma of Currantstar, the pride of Pigeonstar, the wisdom of Shalestar…

How did they do it? How did they all do it?

Antstep felt a kitlike wonder- and a kitlike envy. He turned to see Rainleap nod towards the journey home, the light of the moon shining in the WindClan deputy’s lime-green eyes. As Molethroat and Rockscratch chattered behind him, Antstep let himself get lost in his thoughts. Rainleap will make a wonderful leader- I wonder how his first gathering will go…  I wonder how I’d do. I mean, of course Rainleap will be the next leader. Everyone knows that. But it must feel nice to be up on that rock, to be there with the greats… To be loved by your Clan. I wouldn’t want the stress, of course, but… I would want that.

Wouldn’t anyone?

Little did Antstep know, his life was on the cusp of changing forever.

[restmyheadatnightcontent]

febuwhump day 5 - ‘take me instead’

this is the product of me watching the witcher and the man from uncle repeatedly to get myself through lockdown so enjoy a little geraskefer as spies ft horrible creepy stregebor

geraskefer | 1414 words | cw: drugging, violence, referenced experimentation

_______________________________

He should have known it was too good to be true, he’d had a bad feeling ever since they had started the mission but he’d had no reason for that feeling so he’d just ignored it. Which was stupid – rule number one of being a spy is trust your gut.

It had been too easy, he and Geralt had snuck into the facility with relative ease, there were no guards to be seen, and he had cracked the safe with no trouble. They were on their way out with the files when they had turned down what they thought was an empty corridor only to be accosted by a swarm of guards. He and Geralt had managed to fire off a few shots but it wasn’t long before they had tackled him and were pressing a syringe into his neck.

He winces now at the memory of the cold metal sinking in. He hates it when they use drugs – it’s cheating. If you want a fight at least do it properly.

When whatever they had injected him with had worn off he awoke to find himself in a sterile laboratory, stripped almost naked and strapped to a cold operating table, with Geralt still unconscious on a table next to him. The fact that the other man was not yet awake means that they whoever has captured them were prepared for them and for Geralts mutuations. They had been lured into a trap and now Jaskier is just left wondering why.

He hopes that Yennefer had managed to get away, that she had heard the fight via the bugs that he knows she planted on him and Geralt before they left and she called in for help. As soon as he and Geralt had not made it to the agreed meeting point, he hopes that she had left her position and gone to get back up rather than trying to stage a dramatic rescue. But knowing Yennefer, its almost certainly the latter.

His fears are confirmed when the door opens and the guards carry in a familiar body. He tries to get a good look at her as they strap her down to table on his other side, and he cannot see any visible wounds. However his heart drops when he sees the dimeritium cuffs that have been placed around her wrists. Gods knows what they did to her in order to get them on but he knows it can’t have been pretty.

He turns his head back towards the ceiling and tries to figure out how the hell they are going to get out of this one. He waits for a sign that either of the other two are awakening but he is just met with the sounds of the steady breaths of his companions. Normally, that noise brings much comfort to him but only in the confines of their bedroom, here in the unfamiliar room it does nothing to soothe his nerves. He’s without his lockpicks which is making his escape from the table much harder. And whoever it is that has trapped them will be ready. They had measures in place for both Geralt and Yennefer, which means they knew about them and they managed to fake information well enough to fool Vesemir. They aren’t amateurs, whoever they are.

Before he can get much further in his investigations the door is opening again. He lifts his head to see an elderly man in a white coat coming into the room. He seems to be just an ordinary old man – grey hair and a small beard – he looks like someone you would walk past in the street. But as he gets closer, Jaskier gets a glimpse of something in his eyes. Or rather a lack of something – his eyes are cold and calculating and seem to devoid of any light. Paired with the almost hungry smile the man has on his face, they send a shudder running down Jaskiers spine.

“Hello Mr Pankratz,” he says “Yes, yes I know who you are and who you work for so let’s not bother with any of that feigning ignorance act I’ve no doubt you’re terrific at, hm?”

He walks up to Yennefer and Jaskier clenches his fists as the old mans hand lifts to stroke her face. “It’s such a pity that the others aren’t awake yet. I must have made a mistake with my calculations. But no worry, we’ve all got plenty of time to get to know one another.”

He turns back towards Jaskier and he finds himself staring again into the soulless eyes.

“Who the fuck are you and what the hell do you want?” Jaskier asks angrily.

“How rude of me, not introducing myself. I am Stregobor,” he says calmly. Jaskier has heard the name before but he can’t quite place where. The doctor continues“And as for what I want – well I am a scientist you see. And I have always been fascinated by your organisation, about the people that work there. About what is done to them.”

“Yes, yes, I know all about the Witchers and their mutations. I’ve been trying to recreate the process myself for many years but I have never quite managed to get it right – never managed to get them to stick. And now I have one of my own to study and practice on, as well as one of the most powerful mages on the Continent,” he says, with an air of fascination “Yes I think this is will be one of my most productive studies yet.

Of course that’s where Jaskier knows the name – Stregobor was the one responsible for Project Black Sun, the systematic murder of the young girls who were all born during the eclipse and all seemed to show the same strange mutations. He’d heard horror stories about the man from Renfri and that was well over 20 years ago. Gods knows what the man has been up to since then, but it can’t have been good.

Stregobor crosses over to Geralts prone form “I think I’ll start with this one, see if I can figure out what makes him so special.”

“No,” Jaskier says, struggling against his ties “no, you can’t.”

“Oh I think you’ll find I can dear boy. And there’s not a lot you can do to stop me.”

“Take me instead. You won’t find out anything from him – from either of them – but I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” he pleads. He knows it’s stupid, showing his hand this early, letting Stregobor know how much they both mean to him but he doesn’t care if it means that they will be safe, that Stregobor won’t touch them.

“How sweet,” Stregobor says coming to stand next to Jaskier’s head. His hand comes to rest on Jaskier’s cheek and Jaskier flinches away from the contact. “I’ll tell them that you offered up yourself in their place, I think it will help lessen the pain. Or perhaps it will make it worse, who knows.”

He leans in closer and Jaskier can feel the other mans breath ghosting his cheek “You see, I am going to study them but I have much, much bigger plans for you, my boy. With everything I learn from them, from their bodies, I’ll finally be able to perfect my experiments and I’m going to use it to transform you into the perfect fighter. And then you’re going to kill them for me.”

He can see the images in his mind but the thoughts feel unfamiliar in his head, and he realises that Stregobor must be placing them in there, showing Jaskier his plans. Jaskier holding a sword in one hand, knife in the other, walking towards Geralt and Yen. He can hear their pleas as he pushes the knife in, feels their blood coat his hands, their eyes filling with tears as they stare at him, mouths open in shock as he twists the knife—

“No. No,” Jaskier whispers “I won’t.”

“Oh but you will,” he says and then he is calling for the guards and Geralt is being wheeled away.

“If you touch so much as a single hair on his head, I will burn you and this place to the ground,” Jaskier growls. He struggles against the bindings holding him to the table as he watches Geralt’s white hair disappear through the door.

He’s going to get them out of this and stop Stregobor if it’s the last thing he does.

[xsparklingravenx]

to the heavens

Title: to the heavens

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Characters: Venti, Diluc, Venti’s Friend, Amos

Rating: T

Word Count: 6,619

Summary:  Venti has lost more than most in the pursuit of freedom. One, unassuming evening, Diluc asks a question that prompts him to share those losses.

AO3

“Oh Mondstadt let me tell you,

Of violent tales of old,

Where a boy, no name or stature,

Took on a journey bold”  

In the corner of a darkened tavern, a boy dressed in green sang. His fingers danced nimbly across a tinkling lyre, drawing forth sounds that could only be matched by divinity itself. Every word brought forth a new listener, drunkards, guild members, even the bartender himself, who stood steadfast behind the counter with his arms crossed. The story spiralled in song, Mondstadt’s past told to its present.

This boy, a bard, no fighter,

Took Mondstadt in his hands,

Saying no despot will hold on

To these gorgeous, sacred lands  

The song itself was a new one, though the green bard had told the story in many forms before. In celebration, in joy, in a simple sharing of knowledge, but never had he sung it like this. The tune was haunting, like it had been possessed by a ghost. His attempts to liven it up had not worked entirely, it seemed.

Eyes closed, the bard carried on. How easy it was, to get caught up in song like this. He’d taken his time writing this one, had bought in his oldest companion to listen in on it. When he’d asked the dragon, Dvalin, how he thought it sounded, the dragon had replied simply, “It sounds like a ballad for a funeral march, Barbatos.”

It was neither a ballad nor a funerary song, the bard thought privately, and he also thought that Dvalin very much needed an updated education in the art of music. That being said, when he opened his audience looked very much morose, as if he’d struck them down with some kind of malady born from tune. Even the bartender, who the bard rarely ever saw look anything other than stone-faced, had his mouth downturned a fraction further.

None of them offered to purchase him a drink, though they did clap for him, and many showered him with coin at the end of his performance, some wiping away inexplicable tears. “Why, thank you! Thank you! Your generosity will be remembered—right when I go and get myself something from the bar with all your wonderful donations!”

Lyre still in hand, the bard marched up to the counter with all the confidence of someone twice his height. Pushing several coins onto the counter, he said, “One dandelion wine, if you please, Master Diluc.”

Diluc looked down at him, one eyebrow raised. His red hair was tied up as it always was. The bard thought it looked like a scorched sunset.

“If I start serving you regularly, people are going to think that I make a habit out of serving the underage," Diluc said.

“Oh, come now, I hardly show up that much!” The bard pushed the coins further across the table, as if that would somehow sweeten the pot. “I’m a paying customer. Angel Share’s most famous one at that. You know, I could write a whole poem about this place, bring people flocking in from all over Teyvat! I have friends in high places too, they’d spread the word even farther…”

“Business is already good enough.”

“And I’m not even underage, so your argument is void and forgotten.”

“Venti—” Diluc stopped, rubbing at his temples. Venti snickered, knowing victory was in reach. “I don’t understand it. Something as old, and as powerful as you, and yet you choose to appear as a child. Why not change? Then you’d encounter no trouble at all.”

It was a valid enough question. Venti leant back on his stall, placing his lyre on the free one next to him. How did he explain it? “It’s…a long story. One that I’m always happy to tell, but you’re free to listen, if you want.”

Dilic’s eyes flicked up to the clock that sat on the wall behind the counter. “Guess it’s a slow enough night. We’re still open for a while, so if you want to talk, then talk. Make it worth my while, though.”

“Only in exchange for a dandelion wine, of course.”

“At which point did I say I even wanted to hear your story?” Diluc asked, his expression utterly flat. “You get one wine, that’s it. I’m not dealing with your drunken antics. I’ve seen them, and I’m not impressed.”

Despite his reluctance, he got the glass and the bottle. Venti hummed as he watched him pour it. It was his favourite; if you could get comfort in a liquid form, then dandelion wine was it. Even old Morax enjoyed it, whenever Venti was willing enough to share it. He’d have to get them together sometime, so they could partake in some festive activities of their own.

Venti cupped his hands around the glass when Diluc handed it to him. He was eager to take the first sip, but he held back. Though he loved his wine, there was perhaps one thing he loved even more. Storytelling was in his blood. It was the reason he was still here after thousands of years of life and more to come.

“I didn’t always look like this, you know,” he said, eager to hook, eager to draw Diluc’s attention fully. And then, he winked.

Without his lyre, he sung once more.

“Master Diluc, let me tell you,

Of violent tales of old,

Where a boy, no name or stature,

Took on a journey bold”  

~x~

The sky was a veritable nightmare of storm and fury, and yet, beneath it, life went on as it always did.

Mondstadt was a gilded cage, a prison where its people were protected and safe, yet wanting only for freedom. That was what the wind spirit had learned on its travels through the city. That was the wind spirit had understood upon listening to the singing of the young bard who made his home in the desolate cathedral.

The wind spirit came to listen to him often, for there was no other who could compare to him, not even outside the city. His voice carried on the wind like Decarabian himself favoured him, and maybe he did, enjoying how his songbird sang for freedom while locked in its cage. The young bard worked his lyrics to the bone, conveying so much with so little, emotion and feeling packed not just into his words, but into his nifty work with the instrument he carried. The wind spirit did not know the name of it, but it did love how it looked, how the boy made it sing too.

He wore his hair in braids, and the wind spirit never saw him without his brown cloak, which billowed in the storms that trapped them all. This was a human, it thought. So big, so powerful, with the ability to turn words into inspiration, to make thought into action. This boy was far stronger than the wind spirit, who was a simple thread of a single element, who could be blown away with even the simplest of gusts.

But even as skilled and as powerful as the boy was, it was a difficult existence. Though his magic was in his music, it was not a lucrative position. Much of his audience were struggling themselves, and there was little money to go around. The wind spirit watched from the shadows as the boy suffered; he was an orphan, hiding within the cathedral’s walls from the turbulent weather, sometimes going days without food when he could not afford it. Not even Decarabian helped. As his songbird starved, he paid no attention.

But the wind spirit did. One evening, after dark, when his audience had dispersed, it went searching. The market stalls had been cleared away, but, in a stroke of good fortune, the tiny spirit found something red and round and almost unbruised, tucked away near a tavern. An apple, it had heard the people call this particular fruit. It was not much for a human as big as the bard, but it was better than nothing.

So, with all its might, the wind spirit began to push the apple. It used all its very limited power over the wind, and slowly, it rolled the apple out of its hiding place. The trip back to the cathedral was long, and arduous—though not many people noticed the strange apple and the tiny spirit, for they were hardly important in the grand scheme of their own lives.

After much effort, the wind spirit arrived at its goal; though it soon found itself blocked by an object it had not expected; a heavy set of closed doors barring the way into the cathedral. Irritated, it puffed up its cheeks and kicked its tiny feet at the door. Let me in, it cried silently. I have a gift!

During the day, the doors were always open! How could this happen? Its poor bard was on the other side, starving, and the wind spirit had the answer right there. There was nothing for it; the little spirit would have to get his attention, no matter what.

As a being of the wind, it was easy to manipulate its form into almost nothing at all. It slipped through the cracks between the doors with ease, but the apple remained stuck outside. Popping back into existence as its usual form, the spirit fluttered its pixie-like wings and floated towards where the bard was curled up, his face screwed up as he slept. He was not the only one who called this abandoned cathedral home; there were others sleeping too, boys and girls with no parents, who had nowhere else to go. They were stuck here too. There was nowhere to escape to, not when Mondstadt was closed off to the rest of the world.

The wind spirit stopped in front of the boy’s face. What was he dreaming of, to look like that? Was it a bad dream? Something cruel? Did Decarabian himself appear, taunting the songbird that his freedom would never be near? Likely not, but the wind spirit could not help but consider the possibilities as it shook its stubby arms free of its tiny, white cloak.

It prodded the boy in the face. Once. Twice. The boy stirred a moment before rolling over entirely. No, thought the wind spirit in frustration. Pay attention to me!

So he floated over to the other side, and began again. Prod. Prod. Prod. Nose. Lips. Cheeks.

Finally, the boy cracked open an eye. “Who—”

He cut himself off when he spotted the wind spirit. There was a moment of tense silence, and suddenly, the boy bolted back with a gasp. The wind spirit, equally as shocked, fell onto its back with a shrill little cry.

So alarmed as it was, it kicked its little legs, its wings trapped behind it. It was not until the boy scooped him up and said, “Shh,” that it calmed. “Sorry, little guy. I didn’t mean to scare you. You just…well. Scared me.”

The little spirit placed its stubby arms on its waist in an imitation of what it had seen the bard do when he was irritated. This appeared to charm the boy, who let out a tinkling little laugh. “Sorry, sorry. Were you the one poking at me?”

His voice sounded different when he spoke. Still sweet and nice, but not nearly as lyrical. The wind spirit hopped off his hands, and poked at the boy’s stomach. Then, it went flying off towards the door, hoping the boy would get the hint.

“What are you doing?” the boy whispered, keeping his voice low as to not wake the others.

The spirit chirped. It didn’t quite have the facilities for speech, so it could only communicate through gestures and sound. It pointed to the door, and the boy clicked his fingers in triumph. “Ah! You’re trapped in here, and you want to be let out, right?”

Not quite, but at least it would get him to open the door. The little spirit chirped again, and the boy came over, finally pushing the door open. Free, the spirit immediately descended down to perch itself on the apple, arms at its waist again this time as it puffed up its chest in pride.

The boy stared at the apple and the spirit both. After a moment, he knelt down, and the spirit hopped off the apple to push it towards the boy. He took it in his hand, asking, “Is this for me?”

The wind spirit nodded. There was a lot to tell him, but nothing it could say, so it chirped once more. How it wanted to share its appreciation for the music the bard gave so freely, how it wanted to step in where Decarabian wouldn’t, but the apple would have to do for now.

“Thank you,” the boy said, looking at the red shine of the apple, and oh, what kind of words could he come up with to describe it, the spirit wondered? “Really. You don’t know how hungry I am…this means a lot. Do you have a name, little guy?”

The wind spirit shook its head left and right. It had been born from the elements, it had no parents like the boy once would have, and so, it had nobody to name it.

“You look a little like an elf…” the boy said, but the spirit shook its head at that too. “Oh, well, I’m sure I can come up with something for you, if you wouldn’t mind.”

The spirit could hardly believe its luck! A name! Something humans had! All in exchange for an apple? Surely it was not a fair enough trade. It would have to bring even more to make up for it.

Floating upwards, the spirit tugged at the bard’s sleeve. What’s your name? It wanted to ask so badly, but all it could do was hope that its intent was understood.

The bard tilted his head. “What is it?”

Name! The spirit chirped again. It flew to the bard’s chest and poked him in the chest. You. Tell me!

“Oh! Me?”

The spirit nodded. Finally! It floated up to the bard’s face, listening intently. It didn’t want to miss the moment. It wanted to commit this to memory forever.

The boy chuckled at its antics, and his laugh was such a wonderful thing. Decarabian was a fool, for staying up high, for ignoring his citizens, because listening to this, the wind spirit didn’t know how he could ever justify keeping his people locked away. If only he came down, then maybe he would understand. But he wouldn’t, because, as the people always said, the Archon was a tyrant who only cared about keeping his rule.

But that didn’t matter in the moment. The boy opened his mouth. The spirit listened.

“My name is—”

~x~

  “So your story is tied to your song from earlier,” said Diluc, who had poured himself a drink of his own now. Hardly the most responsible act from the owner of Angel’s Share, but who was Venti to judge men on their responsibilities when he barely did anything from one day to the next? “The boy the wind spirit—you— met and the boy in the tale is the one and the same.”

“Well, yeah, but you didn’t have to jump ahead like that!” Venti huffed, taking a sip of his wine. The sweet, floral taste exploded over his tastebuds, the bitter hint behind it only strengthening the flavour. “Back then, Mondstadt was…boring. Stagnant. Everyone was trapped and lonely. They yearned for nothing but freedom, and music was a close way to get it—but the economy was suffering too, and the bard could barely make ends meet.”

“So, what was the name he granted you?”

“Oh, that. Yeah, he named me after some character in a book he was reading at the time. Barbatos, you might be familiar with such a moniker.”

“Interesting,” Diluc said, not sounding very interested at all. “Making Venti a…stage name?”

“Psh.” Venti waved a hand dismissively. It was not a stage name, but they would get to that eventually. The cosy, dark atmosphere of the bar was making him a little drowsy, but he couldn’t just stop here now he’d started. “From there, I always came front and centre to his performances, but I soon came to realise that something was missing. Though he always sang of freedom, though he inspired the people around him to also yearn for it, he didn’t ever sing of what came after. He never sang about what to do with that freedom after their independence had been gained.”

The memories were still clear, despite having taken place over two millennia ago. It was easy to recall how the storms raged over Mondstadt, how they grew and grew, how, one day, Venti had realised how they nearly swallowed up his bard friend’s voice. It was as if Decarabian had grown tired of his singing, as if he’d figured out the truth behind his words and wanted to drown out his songbird before it grew restless enough to try breaking the cage.

“One thing to say, another thing to actually do,” Diluc said, but the way he said it suggested that he knew that better than most. Venti knew a little of his story, but not all of it, mostly gathered in scraps from others. There was a rift between him and that knight, Kaeya, that seemed like it would be difficult to patch. “But, we’re having this conversation right now, and I already heard the ending to your song earlier. He didn’t just sit on his hands.”

That was another memory, one so stark and clear that it might as well have been caught on one of the traveller’s kameras. Venti nodded, and he sung, into his drink.

“I want to see those birds in flight,”

A declaration swift,

But with it came a reckoning

That would set their fates adrift

Diluc said, “Is that really what he said?”

“Word-for-word,” Venti said. Now he really did need another sip. Remembering that statement both warmed him and tore his heart apart. Had the bard never said it, maybe he would have lived his life long, not content, but alive regardless—but Venti knew that a life imprisoned was no life at all. He was desperate to see those birds. To see even one in flight, to see the world outside and know it was accessible, it was a wish worth dying for.

“He wanted to write a poem so great, and he was going to use the birds to do it,” Venti explained around the wine. “I think he could have done it, too. He just…didn’t get the chance, unfortunately.”

In a rare act of compassion, Diluc topped up his glass. Noticing the delight in Venti’s eyes, he warned him, “Just once,” and then set the bottle back down. “So, none of this has actually explained to me why you’re so intent on showing up like you are. Are you actually going to tell me, or is this an elaborate hoax all so you can listen to the sound of your own voice?”

“Hey! I was getting to the point, you’re the one jumping ahead!” Venti glared at him over the top of his glass. “Anyway, my voice is great to listen to. You should be so honoured that the great bard Venti is taking time out of his personal schedule to tell you this.”

“Taking time out of his personal schedule to badger me into serving him wine, I think you mean,” Diluc said.

“Yeesh.” Venti shook his head. “Alright, where was I…oh, yeah. Birds in flight. Okay. Buckle up, Master Diluc.”

And so, he sang once more.

With companions at his side now,

The bard took forth his plan

To topple Mondstadt’s tyrant

And free his fellow man  

~x~

The scrolls were scattered all across the cathedral’s floor. Images of sun, sea, and grassland glittered upon them, everything that laid beyond the storm able to be touched, visualised, dreamed of.

The wind spirit floated next to the bard as they both looked at the illustrations. Decarabian’s lover had bought them to show him after she had heard one of his songs. So touched by his tales of what might be awaiting them outside, she had stolen the scrolls from Decarabian’s personal affects, and brought them down to them.

The spirit knew that she was a beautiful woman, in the sense that he knew that the words to describe her would be the same ones traditionally used to describe beautiful women. Her hair was so blonde, it was near white, and it tumbled down her back in waves. Her smile was pleasant and pink, and her hands were slender and thin. They did not seem suited to the bow she carried with her, the bow that she did not need given her status, but she had learned to use anyway.

They were not the only ones looking upon the illustrations. Among the boys and girls who also lived in the cathedral, another new face had joined them; the knight, with hair as red as the sunset one of the images depicted. He carried a claymore wider than his body, and held knowledge of every wine in Mondstadt. Like the lover, he had also heard the bard’s songs of freedom, and he’d been enticed by them.

Somehow, their duo had grown to number four, all of them dreaming of something better. The wind spirit had not left Mondstadt in sometime, for it felt terrible to traverse the storm-clad sky without its friends, but it mattered little when everything it needed was right within the city’s walls. What was there to leave for, when home was right there?

The bard was strangely quiet as he looked upon the scrolls. The wind spirit sat on his knee, looking at them also. It watched in silence as he ran his fingers over the images of suns, of creatures unknown to them all, of gemstones and ore that could not be found in Mondstadt. So much awaited outside, and yet there was no way to reach it.

“There is little left in this city to see,” lamented the lover as she too looked over the scrolls. “Decarabian thinks he loves me, but he only loves his rule. I’ve told him so many times how I wish to see what is outside for myself, and yet…we remain here. Trapped.”

“If only battle were enough to see it done,” said the knight, sat on the pews with his sword at his side. “I would fight my way out of this prison if I could. I would take every man, woman, and child with me.”

The wind spirit chirped sadly, for it could do nothing but watch them. It had no power of its own, no ability to wield a weapon, no Vision to do magic with. It was simply a puff of air, an wayward shard of elemental power, to little to make an impact.

It floated upwards, looking upon a scroll depicting sky so blue, with birds flitting across it. The boy looked at it too, chewing at his lip. Was he so hungry that he had to eat that too?

“But what if…what if we could fight our way out of this prison?” asked the bard, drawing the attention of both the lover and the knight. He was like that; he could garner eyes like Decarabian garnered power. “I want to see the birds in flight. I want to write a poem so great. But…if we stay here, I’ll never do either.”

The wind spirit didn’t understand. What fighting could they do? The knight and the lover were strong, but the bard had little but his lyre, and the spirit had nothing at all. It wanted to ask, but the knight responded for him. “Preposterous!”

“Is it?” asked the lover, one hand at her chest. “Perhaps…perhaps if we go to him, if we show him with our own power what he has done wrong, Decarbia will open his eyes. Maybe he will see me for who I am…!”

“We would have to incite all of Mondstadt into joining us,” said the bard, and the knight looked positively dumbfounded. “It would be no easy rebellion…but maybe it would change something, right? Or, we’re all just going to live our lives caged like this, and that’s…well. It’s not living at all, is it?”

The spirit chirped. But what of the danger! Was freedom worth the possibility of fighting a god? Was that what the bard was trying to tell him?

“You’re mad,” said the knight, shaking his head fondly. “Yet…I can’t deny what you’re saying there. Our entire lives have been spent this way. People have lived and died for hundreds of years, never once seeing outside this storm. It steals our words and our opportunities…and yet nobody has ever challenged it. Not once.”

Was it out of terror? Or acceptance? Did the people take their lives for what they were because they knew there was no way out? Or were they just frightened of change? The spirit didn’t know enough to come up with an answer. It didn’t understand humanity enough to say. But it knew its friend, the bard, and it knew that he would never be scared of change. Instead, he would only ever fear life staying as it was.

The life of a caged songbird was an easy one, but it offered no opportunity for growth. There was no experience to be had within these walls, and at the least, the spirit knew that. So, when the bard turned to it with determination shining in his sky-blue eyes, the spirit understood that change was in the air.

There would be no going back from this. The bard inspired with his words. That was his power. With a hand outstretched to the spirit, he said, “Let’s do this, then. Let’s cast out the tyrant, and tear down the walls. We can take our plight to the masses and garner allies. If all of the city will fight, then what can one single Archon hope to achieve?”

Strength in numbers. That was the key to their locked door, the solution to the puzzle before them. If they showed the scrolls to the people, if the bard sung of the outside and what awaited there, then they could sway opinions.

That night, the wind spirit made a decision. It left Mondstadt for the first time in an age, and it traversed the mountainous region until it found an eagle. It watched it in flight, beating its wings against the midnight sky, stars twinkling above. It thought that, maybe, in the future, there should be a place to watch for sights just like this. Somewhere to view the stars. The sky.

As the eagle flew, a feather fell from its plumage. Inspired, the wind spirit leapt into action, snatching it from the air and cradling the large feather close to its tiny body. It was taller than it, and most definitely heavy, but it was inexplicably beautiful. Brown and soft like an embrace, it would make a wonderous gift for his bard friend.

But, oh, when to give it? Now felt too early. But what if the spirit was to stash it away? Keep it safe and present it to the bard when the battle was won, when the outside world was accessible to them all? Yes. To give it now would only upset the bard. It would only reinforce how he was still locked away.

So the wind spirit took the feather back to Mondstadt, hiding it within the cathedral. Its time would come. Once the rebellion was over, he would hand it over proudly.

After all, it thought, I’ll follow you anywhere, my friend.

~x~

  “Hey, Master Diluc…do you have any regrets?” Venti asked.

He’d come to an abrupt stop while telling his story. Thankfully, his glass was still half-full, which was good because he knew he was going to need it for the last part. Diluc, who had been cleaning his own glass, stopped sharply in his movements.

The bar was much quieter now than it had been when Venti had been performing. Most of the other patrons had left by now. It was getting late, and yet Diluc had not done his last call. Instead, he’d carried on listening to Venti’s story, giving him his undivided attention.

“I…have my own, yes,” Diluc said stiffly. “None that I’m willing to share.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to.” Venti sighed, his earlier cheer having vanished entirely. “I have tons. Guess it’s hard not to, though. Comes with the territory and all. Being old is tough. I dunno how Morax does it.”

“Liyue’s Archon?”

“Yeah. He’s even older than me. He’s seen a lot of death and war in his time. Lost people close to him. That’s how it is.” Venti paused, leaning his elbow on the counter, and then his head on his hand. With his other hand, he circled the circumference of the glass. “I’m not even half his age, did you know?”

“I didn’t, but Morax doesn’t have anything to do with you being underage in my bar.” Diluc put his glass behind the counter and stood back. “So, I can make an educated guess here. You should have given the bard the feather when you had the chance.”

“It’s one of those funny things, huh? When you look back, you can see exactly what you should have done.” Venti thought on it any time he saw an eagle. If he could go back, he would never have stashed the feather. “The rebellion moved fast, once it began to assemble. Decarabian’s lover, Amos, she was swift and deft and eager to join the battle when it finally broke out. She went to the frontlines; she stormed the tower she’d once called home. The knight, he played the part of protectorate. I remember being so impressed, but…then, the God of Storms descended from his tower. And Amos was nowhere in sight.”

Venti’s fingers twitched. He still had her bow, and he sometimes wielded it into his own battles. It was all he’d managed to retrieve from her body, when he’d found it, rent asunder by Decarabian’s winds. Until that moment, he’d never known how damaging his element could be. Anemo was a wonderous thing, but so destructive too. That was the lesson he’d learned.

“You still haven’t gotten to your point, bard,” Diluc said. “I’m waiting with bated breath.”

He certainly didn’t sound like he was, but who was Venti to deny him? Smiling wryly, he began his song once more, building to the climax.

But the war was not without loss

And friends he loved were lost

And as those arrows flew free

For freedom, his life was cost.

~x~

In the aftermath of the battle, as the sun dawned on Mondstadt for the first time in ages, it was the lover that the wind spirit found first, though she was recognizable only from her hair, pale, near white where it hadn’t been stained red with her blood.

Debris had been cast across the city. The God of Storm’s anger had ripped it apart. The lover’s bow was held loose in her fingers, and the wind spirit touched it in sorrow. It was not big enough to take it in its hands. Freedom had been so close for her, and yet she had died in her pursuit of it.

In the storm, the wind spirit had been thrown from its companions, and now it sought them in the wreckage. There were bodies, countless, and the wind spirit found itself wondering, was liberty worth such loss? It had to be, surely. This was what the bard had been dreaming of.

Survivors sought their loved ones. The wind spirit searched too for its own. It had to bring them back to the lover, to retrieve her bow and lay her to rest. She had gone ahead, but the knight had remained behind alongside the bard. He would have protected him. That was his strength.

And indeed, it was the knight whom the spirit found then, hair as red as the apple that the spirit had forged a friendship with. He was knelt over someone as he cast his gaze at the decimated tower of Decarabian, and oh, how the wind spirit’s heart soared. It fluttered through the air, desperate to get to him—

Only to stop short when it laid its own eyes on the body that the knight held close. Arrows riddled their chest, turning their well-worn cloak red with blood. Their braids, so familiar, hung loose and undone. Almost unrecognizable was he, the bard whom the spirit had so dedicated his existence to.

Death was not something the spirit understood well, for it was not something that happened to elemental spirits. Surely the bard was simply injured. He did not look so bad as the lover did. Humans were tough, after all. A little Hydro magic, and he would be perfectly fine. They just had to find a healer.

But as the spirit drew closer, it began to realise that it would not be so simple. Healers only worked on those who still breathed, and the bard was as still as bedrock in the hold of the knight. The knight himself wore an expression so stricken with agony that the wind spirit could hardly believe it. He didn't look like the same man he had been before.

When he noticed the spirit, he ducked his head low in sorrow. The bard did not stir; he was not sleeping. Even when the spirit poked at him, he did not move.

Prod. Prod. Prod. Nose. Lips. Cheeks.

The boy did not crack his eyes open, because he was no longer with them.

A strange, brittle noise split the air. The spirit did not realise it was its own wails until the knight took it in hand and held it close. Why did it hurt so much? It was not injured, and yet it felt as if it had been torn apart by Decarabian himself.

In many ways, it had.

“I am sorry,” said the knight, whose remorse bled into his own voice. “Even my best was not enough to save him.”

But all the little spirit could do was blame itself. If it had not been separated, it thought, then could it have done something? It would have followed the bard to the end, but now, he had gone to the one place that the spirit could not follow. The caged songbird was dead, murdered in its search for freedom.

The eagle’s feather was nothing more than an empty promise, one that would never be fulfilled. As birds flitted their way across the unbound sky of Mondstadt, that was all the spirit could think.

~x~  

“There were discussions, after, but I won’t bore you with the details. All you need to know is that Boreas chickened out of responsibility, so yours truly took up being the new Anemo Archon—and, well, that meant I got a whole lot of new powers too.”

Angel’s Share was near empty now, just Venti and Diluc left. Venti’s glass had been drained dry, and he was beginning to feel the buzz of it. Good. It was better that way.

Diluc took the glass and said, “Meaning you were a wind spirit no longer.”

“Well, yeah, and no. I’m still the wind spirit inside. If I dissolve this form, that’s what you’d see. Tiny little elf, that’s me.” Venti grinned and swung his legs off the stall. “But…I’m not gonna dissolve this form. Or change it. Because if I did, it’d hardly be honouring my friend now, would it?”

Diluc’s sigh was so heavy that even his shoulders deflated. “I had a feeling that might be the case. Still weighs on you even now, doesn’t it?”

Venti nodded. At least Diluc was clever enough to read between the lines. “I loved him. My friend, the bard—I did everything I could to honour him. He was a bard, so I learned how to sing. He wanted freedom, so I made that my core. He was Venti, so Venti was who I became—but the stories didn’t remember the name of the bard, so I decided to keep his memory alive like this. Barbatos is my true name, the name he gave me, but Venti is who I am when I want to live a little like he did. Free.”

“So, that new song tonight,” Diluc said, packing away the glass and the rest of the countertop. “What was that? An elegy for him?”

“An elegy? Nah. That’s more a lament for the dead, but this…well. I don’t wanna lament his life. There’s no point, he wouldn’t want it. I’d rather celebrate it instead. But everyone says it sounds sad. I guess my idea is different to everyone else's. huh?”

Diluc frowned. Times like this, he reminded Venti of the knight, with that stern expression. Maybe they were not so different, even with the thousands of years between them. “And what was the final verse again?”

Picking up his lyre once more, Venti let his fingers strum at it for the backing tune. Though the initial verses were indeed tragic, the final verses were not those of remorse or grief, but of the happiest ending he could come up with. Yes, his bard friend was long gone; nothing would bring him back, and yet Mondstadt stood tall and proud, free as it had been that day two thousand, six hundred years before.

But in his death, he found it

The freedom he’d so sought

To the heavens his soul flew on to

His struggles not for nought  

So Mondstadt let me tell you,

Of violent tales of old,

Of that boy, no name or stature,

Took on his journey bold

Diluc closed his eyes as Venti continued to play the lyre, even when the song was finished. Sometimes, music was soothing in its own way. It didn’t need a literal story; the notes told its own.

“Thanks for the story,” he said eventually. “But that song still sounds like an elegy. Anyway, don’t think of this as a pass to come drinking in here looking like that all the time. At least do it when it’s quiet.”

“Diluc!” Venti gasped. “Is that an invitation to come singing in here more often?”

“I have no idea how you managed to get that out of what I just said,” Diluc narrowed his eyes. “If you want to play here, I don’t care. It’s me getting a charge for serving a child that I have to be worried about.”

“Like I’d ever let that happen!” Venti hopped off the seat, hands on his hips as he stood proud. “You know who you’re talking to?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Fortunately, yes,” Venti corrected. “And anyway, Jean would never let you be ruined for serving me, right? You’re fine. But…hey. Thanks for listening. Sometimes, it’s nice to tell the full story. Even if it hurts, it’s good to share it. Helps pass on the memory a little.”

Diluc nodded, answering only with a soft hum. Picking up the lyre, Venti continued to play it as Diluc finished his duties behind the counter, counting up his coin and clearing up the mess.

Until he snuffed out the final candle and the two departed, soft, dulcet tones rang out, telling a story all of its own.

[fangirlings-things]

|| Trouble Sleeping ||

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A/N: my first TLK one shot, I hope it's good, I had some inspiration for Finan! I intend to write more for this fandom so let me know what you guys think xoxo

Fandom: The Last Kingdom

Pairing: Finan x female reader

Word count: 2.2K

Warnings: mentions of violence and sex ; set on season 4

Gif credit: @bbcthelastkingdom

Summary: (Y/N) is travelling with them ever since they saved her from the danes. She does not show will to leave them behind, nor they want her to

➥ "I have nowhere else to go, do I?"

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"So we're staying here? Permanently?" your voice was anxious, filled with curiosity and some hesitation. After such a long time on the move, it seemed unreal to just settle down. 

"Perhaps" Uhtred's tone was calm, yet he seemed as anxious as you. His eyes were fixed on his cup of ale and he looked around as if the whole inn was paying attention to his words, which was not true. "The King has offered me the Lordship of Mercia" 

"And you took it?" Sihtric sounded amazed by the idea of his Lord becoming a King. His smile was big and bright, as he occupied himself with taking another sip from his own cup. 

"He gave me time to think on it" Uhtred sighted heavily and then, averted his eyes to the man sitting at his right side. His best friend in the whole world. "What do you think, Finan? Sihtric clearly approves it" the Lord smiled a little by the Dane's agreement. 

"I think it is a great opportunity for all of us to enjoy some comfort and have a place to call ours, after so much time on the road. We would have money, influence" the Irishman spoke his mind, hands joined over the wooden table while he thought on the matter. "But is this what you really want, Lord? To stay here and deal with politics? You hate politics!" 

"Yes, he does" Osferth added in agreement and all of those around the table laughed, easing the tension a little. 

"What do you think, (Y/N)?" Uhtred turned his attention to you as you sat at Sihtric's left side, calling you as he thought about Finan's words. "I value your advice, please tell me what you think about it"

You squeezed your lips in a thin line as you heard your Lord's words, a proud and yet nervous expression taking a hold of your features. All the eyes around the table were focused on you as you gave Uhtred a questioning look.

"How will Lady Aethelflaed feel about it?" the question surprised everyone but Uhtred. As soon as he made the question seeking advice, he knew you would not think only about them. That was not of your nature. They all had learned that very quickly. "She has sacrificed a lot for Mercia, Lord, you know it. Shouldn't she be consulted about this matter of such importance?" 

"I should know you would be this reasonable about it" Uhtred smiled at you, who returned the smile with another one. "I will talk to Aethelflaed, tell her what her brother has offered me. It probably would be good to solve this matter before I make a decision" he gave out one of his hands over the table for you to take it, and so you did. The Lord squeezed your hand tightly with affection. "Thank you for your advice, my friend. I really appreciate it"

"No problem, Lord" you squeezed his hand back and then closed your hand around your cup of ale, taking it to your mouth for a sip. 

"Alright, no more ale. Tomorrow whatever happens, I need you all sober" Uhtred finished his drink, then got up from his stool and walked out of the inn, attracting a few looks as he did so. 

"The Lady is going to be mad at him, mark my words" Osferth sighted, giving the matter some thought. 

"That's a undeniable truth" Finan said as he raised his cup towards his lips. 

"No more ale!" you slapped him in the arm, making him spill some of the drink at the table. The other two laughed at the Irish's surprised expression. You just raised her eyebrows at him in challenge. 

"Do not face her, Finan. You will lose" Sihtric said and when you looked at him with a smile on your lips, the Dane winked at you. 

"Alright, alright" Finan placed the cup on the table and then raised his arms alongisde his head in a sign of surrender. A little smile played on his lips as well. "No more ale it is" 

─━━━━━━⊱❉⊰━━━━━━─

"Trouble sleeping?"

Finan walked through the room they had booked at the inn for the night, after getting up from under his furs. He and the other men had layed on the floor, giving the only matress to you. 

You were sitting on it, your back against the headboard as you had your eyes sat in an inexistent point in front of you wih much attention.

"A little. I'm not tired" you answered his question as he layed on the empty side of the bed, with his arms under his head. Your tones were low, as you tried not to wake Sihtric and Osferth who were already sleeping. Lord Uhtred was probably with Lady Aethelflaed. As you felt the mattress move under his movement, you turned to him with curious eyes. "You?" 

"I had too much ale" the Irishman explained, his eyes fixed on the roof over their heads. It was not usual, for them to sleep in such a comfortable, warm place. "My head is killing me" 

"Maybe that's a sign that you would drink less" you said, leaning your head against the headboard as well. 

Finan turned his head a little, so that he could see your face under the few candle lights they had lighten up earlier. They had been travelling together for months now and through everything they had faced together following Uhtred, you had grown to know each other very well. He could see something was on your mind. 

"Wanna tell me what's troubling you?" he placed his eyes on the roof again, trying not to put too much pressure on you. For the way you sighted and pulled the furs upwards over your legs with exasperation, he knew he had been right on his observation. 

"It just that..." you inhaled, now looking down at your joined hands over your lap. Finan waited patiently for you to continue, the silence in the room suddenly seeming too great to bare. "Tomorrow, I may be serving the Lord of Mercia. Of course, to serve Lord Uhtred was more than great but now... he could be a King" 

"What's the problem with that?" Finan frowned, getting confused by the conversation. 

"None, that's exactly my point" you turned your body slightly so that you could look down at him, your eyes meeting under the candle lights. "What amazes me is the fact that someone who almost became a slave, might be tomorrow serving the Lord of Mercia" 

Finan smiled, as he understood what you were trying to say. You were grateful. Happy for your life's outcome. He more than anyone, understood that. "I see what you mean" 

"You guys changed everything for me. You saved me" you sighted heavily. "Sometimes I wonder if I deserved it" 

"How can you say that?" it took only a second for Finan to rise up in one of his elbows, bringing your faces closer so that he could stare right back at you with a serious expression on his face. Hearing you say that, disturbed him to the most of it. 

"I can't help you with a lot" you explained yourself, talking as if he was mad by not seeing the point you were trying to make. "I'm not a fighter, often I put you guys in danger because of it. More than once, you all almost died trying to save me. That's not fair. Maybe you should have left me behind in my village, or whatever was left of it" 

"Stop this nonsense right now" Finan's voice got higher and realizing it, he turned to the sleeping men to see if they had awaken. Noticing that they didn't, he turned his attention back to you. "We saved you because it was the right thing to do. We allowed you to travel with us because it was the right thing to do. And you have helped us before. More than you know" he smiled and placed a string of your hair behind your ear with gentleness, then retrieved his hand slowly. "And if the problem is that you don't know how to fight, I'll teach you. Men of all the Kingdoms will fear the mighty (Y/N)"

You laughed, placing your hand over your mouth to not disturb the other travel companions. Only when you were able to contain yourself, you removed your hand from your mouth and with a few movements, layed alongisde the Irishman. 

For some time you only layed there in silence, eyes on the wooden roof as many thoughts ran through your minds. Different thoughts, yet with the same amount of importance. 

"So, if Uhtred accept the title of Lord of Mercia, you will stay here?" Finan asked the question hesitantly, after so much time that the thought that he had fallen asleep had already crossed your mind. You were wrong, though. He was pretty much awake. "You have not swore an oath to him. You could leave"

"I have nowhere else to go, do I?" you smiled, and there was a sadness there that he recognized and feared. "The family I had, my few possessions, they were all lost in that Dane attack, on the day you saved me. You are my family now and I'll stay, for as long as you want me here" 

Your answer made Finan's heart beat faster inside his chest, the feeling of satisfaction running freely inside his body because of the words he had just heard. Because he finally had made the question that had been troubling him. 

"Good" his voice came out as a whisper, and he had to clear his throat to make it sound a little higher. "It's good, that you will stay. Uhtred values your advice and presence. Osferth enjoys your company. And Sihtric would miss you"

You smiled, raising yourself in one elbow as he had did before, you then had your face hovering over his, a situation he very much enjoyed. "Only Sihtric would miss me, Finan?" 

Slowly, the Irishman raised himself too. Your faces were almost touching, you could feel each other's breaths in the skin of your faces and on your lips. You closed your eyes and inhaled his scent, one that was more than welcome to you. Always had secretly been. 

"No" Finan answered, touching your right cheek with one of his hands as he also closed his eyes. "I would miss you too, (Y/N)" 

You were the one who leaned in and kissed him, capturing his lips in yours in a slow, insecure touch that only lasted a few seconds before you pulled back in fear of rejection. 

You didn't even have time to open your eyes to see his expression, before he kissed you again. Harder and longer now. His beard tickled your face softly, and the sensation was far better than you had previously imagined. Your tongues danced together, fighting a beautiful fight that would have no winner. 

A battle with no victory, but won by both sides. 

"If you two have sex right now, I'm going to kill you both" Sihtric's voice suddenly filled the room, making both Finan and you pull back from each other slightly, laughing. Looking at the dane on the floor, you saw that he hadn't even turned back, his back still faced you two. Yet, he knew what was happening. The sound of shallow breaths and light moans were not unfamiliar to him. 

"We were having a moment here, friend. You just ruined it" Finan said, caressing your skin with his fingertips, your noses touching. 

"No sex" Sihtric said again, and then his voice was gone. He had drifted back to sleep. 

"Wanna test our luck?" Finan said suggestively, more than willing to do so. For you, he would do anything. 

"No, Sihtric is right. It is a disrespect to them" you said with a sight, showing that you too were disappointed with the outcome. 

Smiling for your comprehension, Finan layed back on the matress and opened his arms for you with a smile. You returned the smile and placed your head on his arm, passing one of your own arms over his chest. 

It was peaceful, comfortable. 

Full of love. 

"We really should get some sleep. Tomorrow, we might become the advisors of the Lord of Mercia. Imagine me, in fine robes, plenty of silver" he said, adoring the feeling of having you so close to his body. To have you in his arms.

"You don't need any of that to be a great man" you said simply and after leaning in to press a kiss to his lips again, you whispered in his ear. "Besides, I like you in your armour"

[argent-vulpine]

Achieving the Ever After

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Rating: G

Characters: Sylvain/F!Byleth

Read it on AO3

To say that he was amazed that she had chosen him, after everything he’d said and done, would have been quite an understatement. Sylvain wasn’t sure if there existed a word for how truly amazed, ecstatic, thrilled he was that she had agreed to marry him. This woman had become everything to him, and the journey of her own growth was astounding in so many ways.

Ashen Demon. Professor. General and master tactician. Archbishop. Queen of Unification. And somehow, despite all that… she’d chosen to also be his wife.

He hadn’t really wanted to be Margrave before then, and he didn’t think she would have cared even if he hadn’t taken the title, but he knew what people might have said, and while he had never cared what they’d said about him, what they said about her meant a lot more.

So. He took the title, and married the love of his life.

——————

He knew that she struggled, sometimes, with the finer arts of diplomacy. As Archbishop and Queen, she had a lot on her plate, so he stepped in wherever he could, whenever he could.

He helped her decide the appropriate speech to give when they announced their alliance to Almyra, fostering better relations with the new king, Khalid - otherwise known as Claude, their close friend, who had left after the end of the war to take his own throne, leading to this very day.

A day that he and Byleth - and eventually Sylvain - had dreamed of, hoped for, and worked so hard to achieve.

It wasn’t an easy transition, of course, but House Goneril was happier to help than the populace might have thought. It turned out that Holst and Nader had a great many things in common, once they weren’t fighting each other, and their mutual respect had eased the alliance somewhat.

Nader and Judith of Daphnel’s relationship eventually coming to light didn’t hurt, either.

Byleth treated Sylvain exactly as she always had: a valued ally and partner, and a sound tactician, both on and off the field.

One of their first joint efforts had been to make a decree regarding heirs and the existence of Crests.

A year later, Byleth quietly announced her pregnancy to their innermost circle of friends.

She had told Sylvain about her own troubled birth, shown him her father’s journal, and he spent the nine months worrying about her, hoping the same fate would not befall her or their child. He said nothing when Claude came from Almyra for the last month of the pregnancy, determined to be there for them.

——————

Over the years, their family grew. Claude eventually married Hilda, which Byleth stated had been bound to happen, as Hilda seemed the only person other than herself who was willing to put up with his mischief, and who was strong enough to placate Almyrans in the turbulent times following the alliance.

Sylvain had fully settled into his role as Margrave and King Consort by that point, taking the bulk of the burden of raising their children, teaching them the ins and outs of nobility and what their parents were hoping to achieve.

Not once did they test their children for crests. All three were treated equally, with love and compassion. All three would have the chance to choose their own path. Byleth did not wish to be Archbishop forever, after all, and eventually there would need to be a new Margrave, and a new ruler of the united Fódlan.

That they had been blessed with three children was something of a miracle for the both of them, all things considered.

——————

“Sylvain.”

He looked up from the paperwork on his desk, blinking blearily up at his wife. “Did you say something, By?”

“I’ve been trying to get your attention. We have visitors,” she said, moving to his desk and leaning in to brush a kiss against his cheek. “Felix and Annette just arrived, and I’ve received word that Khalid and Hilda are almost here, as well.”

“Already? I hadn’t realized it was that late. I’m sorry,” he replied, pulling her in for a soft kiss.

“Mm. You need to get ready. Do you know where Alessia is?” Despite telling him he needed to get ready, she settled into his lap, leaning back against him when his arms wrapped around her, holding her close.

“She said she was going to the tower, I think. I’m sure she’s still there.” Their youngest daughter certainly seemed to enjoy the tower. He wanted to blame Claude, but in all honesty, with her green hair and eyes - so like her mother’s - he thought it was perhaps more that she felt drawn to it.

“I’ll go get her, then, while you get changed. Raina and Connor are keeping our guests occupied.”

“You mean that Raina and Connor are currently wiping the floor with Felix.”

She smiled slyly, giving him another kiss before slipping out of his arms. “Perhaps.”

He huffed out a laugh as she left the room, putting down his quill and capping the jar of ink before he stood, stretching, and went to freshen up. That didn’t take him long at all, and soon he was downstairs, headed for the training ground where he knew Felix and his other two children were waiting.

To his surprise, it was not Raina and Connor both. Connor, in fact, was off to the side, conversing with Annette and pointing excitedly at some spell or another he’d found in a book while she did her best to explain it to him.

Which left his eldest child alone with Felix… and holding her own. More than.

Sylvain leaned against a column and watched with a wry grin. Raina had definitely taken after her mother in this sense, a skilled fighter, quick on her feet in both thought and action. Unlike her mother, however, she preferred the lance, like Sylvain, rather than the sword. Then again, she was also looking to be taller than her mother even at age 10. Byleth had definitely not pouted when she’d come to that realization. Absolutely not. Or so she’d say to anyone that asked.

“Oh, look, there’s your old man,” Felix said after his next yield, grinning as he got to his feet.

“Papa!” came from both his children, abandoning their places to come and wrap their arms around him, almost knocking him over.

Sylvain laughed, tousling their hair with an indulgent grin. “You should go clean up. The rest of our friends will be here soon.”

They ran off, calling out their partings as they did. Byleth entered the training ground soon after, likely having sent Alessia off to do the same. She smiled warmly at their friends, giving Annette a hug and clasping arms with Felix, promising to spar him the next morning.

They chatted amiably, leaving the training ground to wander around the monastery while they waited for the rest of their dining companions. Byleth, of course, was stopped from time to time by clergy, students, and visitors alike, though everyone who caught her attention wisely did not take long, noting that she had company.

By the time they made their way up to the Archbishop’s floor and out onto the terrace, the children had changed into fresh clothes, and Claude and Hilda had arrived, joining them shortly after.

It was a nice evening spent with friends, though their children lamented the lack of their own companions. Claude and Hilda’s children were under the watchful eye of Nader and Judith back in Almyra. Felix and Annette had elected to leave their son at home, still too young to comfortably travel from Fraldarius to Garreg Mach.

Conversation flowed easily amongst the friends, with Byleth and Claude commiserating over the woes of ruling entire nations, their spouses exchanging tips on ways they eased those burdens. Byleth and Felix discussed a new forging technique that had arisen, talking blades until they were dragged back into general conversation with the others.

It was that night when Byleth brought up the idea of finally retrieving all of the Hero’s Relics and laying them properly, finally to rest. It was time.

It had been time, to their minds, for a long while now, but with small uprisings in the first few years following the war, and then the matter of successions across the continent, it hadn’t seemed like a good idea, despite the desire.

Byleth, especially, was ready to lay Sothis to rest, a final parting for her first friend.

——————

A year later, on the anniversary of the end of the war, Byleth and all the other wielders of Hero’s Relics assembled in the Holy Tomb. One by one, each of them laid to rest the relics, thanking them for their service.

Byleth was the last to go, whispering her thanks to Sothis and placing the sword - the goddess’ spine - into the sarcophagus meant for the goddess herself. She thought, for a brief moment, that Sothis responded, but the sensation was gone almost as soon as it began.

This was the final ceremony that would ever be held in this tomb. She had given Rhea, Seteth, and Flayn the option to say goodbye in private, after the ceremony, and then it would be properly sealed, never to be opened again.

The world had no need for relics such as these, and all they had ever done was cause pain. She was determined to put an end to that.

Sylvain loved her perhaps even more than ever for it.

——————

The academy had been reformed long ago, opening up to students from outside Fódlan. The houses were not renamed, but no longer were students sorted into them by their homeland. Instead they were sorted at random, though they hadn’t been able to completely do away with some of the older traditions.

Their children were the heads of their houses in the years that they attended.

After Alessia’s graduation - and only then - did Sylvain and Byleth finally announce the intended successions of their titles. Alessia would enter training to replace her mother as Archbishop; Connor had elected to become Margrave, preferring the smaller but still important duties of maintaining the Gautier lands, which left Raina the heir apparent for all Fódlan.

The family couldn’t be happier. Their children had chosen for themselves, and amongst themselves, what they wanted.

They still didn’t know - or care - if any of their children bore a crest.

This was the life that Sylvain had always wanted, and he was so, so glad to have achieved it.

[capricornus-rex]

Someone Left to Save (2)

Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon | Prompt in Chapter 1 link

Summary: The Mantis crew arrives to the capital of Ulfin, in the planet of Pevera, under siege. They meet the local rebel cell spearheaded by the former Republic admiral, Jax Beneb, who seeks to destroy the Empire’s occupation that was aggressively imposed upon while exploiting the planet of its natural resources. A plan is devised to destroy the Imperial’s main base of operations—as well as their influence—in the planet; however, it was a do-or-die mission that you and Cal had gotten yourselves caught in.

A/N: Sorry it took so long! I kinda enjoyed my weekend a bit too much that I must have overstayed by break 😅 it’s always a busy work week for me so I allowed myself to relax. I’ll try to pick up the pace from here on out though! ☺ And I can see this fic has gotten a few of y’all’s attention >;3

Tags: Force-Sensitive! Reader, Inquisitor! Reader, Jedi! Reader, Fake Death, Jedi turned Inquisitor, Seduction to the Dark Side, Turn to the Dark Side, The Dark Side of the Force, Aftermath of Torture, Torture, Psychological Torture, Redemption Arc! Reader, Possible Redemption, Premonitions

TW: Graphic depictions of violence, physical & psychological torture

Also in AO3

Previous: Part 1 | Next: Part 3 | Masterlist

2 of ?

THE DAY OF THE COUNTERATTACK

The operation proceeded as planned.

All of you have been preparing for this since the fall of dusk that night.

You had help in hitching a ride from the temple ruins in the jungle to Ulfin. Some rebels drove landspeeders, but only until you got to the city walls that shielded it from the wilderness. Cal caught you by the arm before you regrouped with the detonations team.

“Hey, see you later?”

You smirked, “Yeah, like always.”

Despite your recurring nightmares and anxiety, Cal aided in keeping those inhibitions at bay and encouraged you enough that everything will go as planned. It was worth pondering why his worries were transferred to you ever since you had those nightmares—but you swore to yourself that it wouldn’t happen, you will not allow it.

You and your group were equipped with live trackers—your signatures will appear as blips to the assault division’s, including Cal’s, radars. The redhead constantly stared at your signature marked with your name’s initial, it moved at a natural pace on the radar but something troubled him as they crept through the fortress like scrap rats.

“They’re close to the reactor chamber,” Cal reported to his team.

“Good, they should be going down there and sticking those claymores in a matter of minutes,”

“Come on, [Y/N]…” Cal mumbled through the grit of his teeth.

The destination was the base—the location of the main reactor chamber—and you were carrying your share of the explosives. The leader made it transparently clear of who goes where and which goes to whom. You had to navigate your way through a metal maze—and while doing so, you’re memorizing your path in which will also be your way out—until you found the enormous pillar brimming with electricity and energy.

Your eyes were filled with the light of the energy at the very base of the reactor. You could only imagine just how catastrophic the explosion will be and how far the blast radius can reach. You could’ve sworn you felt your heart drop to your stomach upon the sight of the reactor pillar.

“Don’t be intimidated, little spark! Once you paste those bad boys up, this reactor will pale in comparison to their punch!”

“It’s not that…” you mutter, supposedly to the boisterous female partisan, but you kept it to yourself as she would not comprehend what you’re sensing.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this…” You thought to yourself, and it’s got something to do with the plan.

The rest of the fighters approached their designated pillars, producing the explosives from their packs and then adhering them to the metal surface. Meanwhile, the adult rebel noticed you hesitating.

“Well, come on, kid, we don’t have all day!” the older lady coaxed.

Eventually, you took your own claymore and attached it on the pillar’s base. You set off the timer for 30 minutes, enough for everyone to get out of the chamber safely and regroup with the ones in the surface. In the middle of your configuration, the weird feeling you detected became stronger—only you had their senses spiked. Your abrupt turn caught the woman’s attention, she shot you a quizzical look, your eyes surveyed the entire reactor chamber… until you spotted a shadow perched on the beam above her head.

“Kid, are you okay?”

“LOOK OUT!!” you screeched but it was too late.

The shadow had made its presence known—the watcher descended from the high beam with ease and drove his crimson saber straight into your companion’s spine, killing her instantly.

“NO!!!”

All of your other companions were on high alert as soon as they heard your first cry. They set their blasters to kill, all barrels pointing at the enemy fully clad in jet black armor. Without a doubt, this was an Inquisitor—everything about him was a dead giveaway from the helmet down to the saber. You brandished your own while the rebels surrounded the Inquisitor, inept to comprehend the sheer power of one individual.

“Well, hello,” the Inquisitor cooed in a singsong manner, tilting his head as he spoke. It appeared that he had his eye on you, for you were the only one standing out amongst these rebels.

“You’ll pay for what you did!” you growled.

“Oh, this?” he nudged the body with his boot. “Sorry, but we all have our accidents once in a while, eh?”

You found his remark revolting. Not once, not even in a single inch, did you remove your eyes from him. From what you can tell, you sensed that he is elusive—he’s made a good example of that before he made your fellow rebel a landing cushion for himself and the other end of his lightsaber.

“You’re quite young for a Jedi, a youngling during the Purge no doubt,”

“What do you know about me?”

A throaty chuckle was your reply; he positioned himself in a stance, as well as his saber, in the offensive.

“Perhaps, you could show me,” invited the Inquisitor.

It was he who made the first move. He cut through the wind like a dart, swift and sure, until you broke his lunge with a block. You prepared yourself for impact, but you didn’t expect it to be this heavy! You’ve found yourself caught in a frenzied dance of blades, waving and swinging your saber at the Inquisitor who’s keenly refusing you a chance of a jab at all.

This new enemy in the lines, the shadowy Second Brother, was a blade in the dark.

You’ve got to hand it to him—he is very stealthy and acrobatic, he almost makes it impossible to catch up to him. Not even the sharpshooter of your team can land a mark, let alone graze his armor, as the Second Brother leaps from one parapet to a platform and so on.

Spinning in place as you followed his movements was an old tactic to tire you down, that much you’re certain, and he was impressed that you read through his plan. He didn’t linger from his high ground too long; for someone of a heavy stock, he appeared and moved as light as a feather while he’s perched on the safety banister of the platform. Holding out his dual-edged saber in one hand, he tucked his knees and sprang off from his perch, darting through the wind again towards you.

You prepared yourself again for another heavy landing. Little by little, you determine his attack pattern: he prefers confusing his enemies visually by leaping from one surface to another—like a Kowakian monkey-lizard—and when he’s in an optimum position, he’ll buckle for a heavy, dart-like attack as he bolts through the air, propelled by the take-off caused by the balls of his feet.

“You’re a smart one, aren’t you?” his voice rung muffled through his helmet as he strains his weight against yours, making you some sort of anchor.

Compared to him, you’re half his size and strength, but you didn’t let that intimidate you. You destroyed his stance by kicking him in the knee, straightening his leg from its tucked position, and follow it up with another foot to the stomach. The pain was tolerable, nonetheless, he wordlessly commended your courage and boldness.

“A thorny one, too!” he cackled.

You turned to the rebels.

This fight was obviously a trap for you and the rebels to lose time. Despite the compromise, you urged everyone that the plan must pull through.

“Switch on the timers now!” you ordered for everyone as you held fast against the Inquisitor.

As soon as you gave the order, one of the rebels sprinted towards his reactor, stretched out a hand as he ran so his fingers could at least touch the button…

Until the Inquisitor extended his arm, aimed at the scampering rebel, and essentially seized the man’s capability to move—leaving his fingertip just a mere inch away from the button to start the countdown.

“Ah-ah-ah!” the Inquisitor chirped in a mocking, singsong tune. “You wouldn’t wanna ruin the fun, now would you?”

Using the Force, you break off his connection with the man and drew his attention to you. Apparently so, ruining his own sick definition of fun is something one must not do—not even a Jedi.

You fixated your eyes on him, you watch him slowly crane his head from the rebel to you—obviously vexed by your interruption—and so he lowered his arm, subsequently releasing the rebel. His throaty growl prevailed the low-pitched machine hum of the reactors.

Bemused at you, he snarls, “Thorny one, indeed.”

“Careful not to prick yourself then!”

The Second Brother liked your snark. The two of you resumed the whirlwind of blades as the rebels took advantage of the preoccupied Inquisitor and made a run for the explosives already glued to the pillars.

“[Y/N], COME ON!” another rebel vigorously swung his arm in the air, repeating a beckoning gesture at you as he let the rest of the partisans scale the ladders and make their escape.

“JUST GO, I’LL FOLLOW!!” you cry while struggling in the block against the Second Brother.

“Are you sure about that!?” he shifts more of his weight against you, in an attempt to make you fumble and finally give him a window to attack.

The rebels make their way out of the reactor chamber with less than thirty minutes ticking behind them. Engaging the Second Brother has cost you ten minutes already. A shortcut was made, courtesy of the bombardment caused by the skirmish on the ground. They pass through the obliterated hallway with a hole in the wall, a few Stormtroopers’ bodies strewn across the floor, and a row of busted turrets.

Back on the ground, Cal is the singular crutch that gave the rebels the advantage they so desperately want and need. This is a large playing field, and so he had the equal amount of room to practice, experiment, enhance, or improve. Cal was confident as he deals more hits in the vanguard along with the rest of the rebels in the front; eventually, he had to fall back from the bulk of the action as he felt something wrong.

“Bee-boop?”

“I’m not hurt, BD… I sensed something… quite bad,” Cal panted, clutching his chest as he struggled to calm his breathing.

He shook it off and fished out his compact radar from his pocket. His eyes followed a cluster of red blips moving in the same direction—which is south in his perspective—though, he spotted your blip which remained in the reactor chamber. He stared at the red dot, your red dot, pondering why it has remained in the same location or only moving in what ought to be just paces in real life. He clenched his teeth hard enough for this molars to grind against each other. He puts away the radar and returns to battle.

Where are you, [Y/N]? What are you still doing there?! He thought to himself as he cuts down the trio of Stormtroopers aiming at him.

Meanwhile, you’re still busy with the Second Brother; there seems to be no end to his energy—still acrobatic and swift as the first time he made himself known. Another clash and long intertwine of your blades, he finally saw through you—in your eyes, lit by the contradicting colors of your weapons—and discovered the determination slowly transmogrifying into desperation.

“Ahh,” he purred, and then chuckled. “Now I see what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

“You know nothing, you treacherous oaf! Nor will you ever!”

“There it is!” he voluntarily withdrew from the clash of blades, evading your overhead strike, and gestures with his arms thrown open to the sides as if he had an epiphany.

He pointed the end of his saber to you.

“There’s that darkness, you’ve buried it so deep within you… but now it has emerged,” he tauned.

“Keep quiet!”

Out of frustration, you charged and lunged at him. A reckless move in the heat of the moment.

The Inquisitor had no problem whatsoever in deflecting you; he’s confident that he has attained the upper hand of this duel—now that he’s spotted a weakness in you that you’ve unintentionally let out.

This collision of blades was the most intense than the ones that came before it. You could almost see his sinister grin through the plate of his mask as your sabers—a dramatic contrast of color and of virtue—illuminate your faces.

“Let me…” he hissed and slowly brought his one hand from his hilt to your forehead. “Shine a light in that darkness.”

[valorsworn]

@knightsvows : hawke: pins cullen against a random building in kirkwall

The night sky was clear for once, stars shining uncharacteristically bright above them. Cullen would have marveled at the sight and appreciated the pure beauty of it, were he not running for his life. Typical, that Kirkwall’s coastal fog would be so conveniently absent on a night like this, Hawke running beside him, bolting from alley to alley with a speed and agility Cullen had no choice but to envy. 

Maker, but his armor was not made for this, the constant high speed, the sharp corners, the sudden movement of Hawke feigning right, only to turn left. Their pursuers were still hot on their trail ; Cullen could hear their shouting far too close behind them. He turned his head to instruct his companion ( or curse him, whatever felt most natural in the moment ) only to find him missing from his side. Of course. Of course Hawke would drag him down to this part of town, get him in all manner of trouble, only to leave him to fend off ten ( twelve… Andraste help him, closer to fifteen ) scoundrels all by himse---

The world spun wildly for a moment, the dark blues and purples and reds of Kirkwall at night flashing before Cullen’s eyes before his back collided hard against a stone wall, pushing the very breath from his lungs. The sound was muffled a moment later, a gauntlet pressed over his mouth. Cullen’s vision swam for a moment. When it cleared, all he could see was Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall, Pain in Cullen’s Backside. The other man held the index finger of his free hand against his own mouth, indicating silence. As though Cullen could do otherwise, with Hawke’s great big bloody paw effectively cutting off his airway. 

Even so, Cullen held himself as still as he possibly could, heart pounding in his chest. One second, two seconds, three… The group of ragtag fighters ran right past their little alcove, its two occupants unseen. Maker, but they really had been right on their tail. Slowly, Hawke lifted his hand, and Cullen greedily gulped down a handful of breaths as the back of his head hit the wall behind him, the burn in his chest easing with each inhale. 

A few moments passed before Cullen realised the other man, having withdrawn his hand, had yet to move back. As the spike of danger faded, other sensations became more apparent to the Knight-Captain. Such as the press of one body against his, holding him in place. He flushed warm for a second, and only barely managed to suppress a shiver right after.

“ Hawke. ”

Cullen lifted his head from the wall to look at the other man, only to find Hawke’s gaze already pinning him in place, much like his body was doing. Inexplicably, Cullen’s pulse ( already quick and hard ) leaped wildly, a sharp breath catching in the back of his throat. The sound made Hawke’s eyes drop for a moment, and for the second time that night, Cullen’s vision briefly blurred. Maker’s breath. Dual sensations warred within, the urge to lash out violently and reclaim his space at odds with the even more primal urge to pull the other man a great deal closer.

“ Champion. It would appear the danger has passed. Step back. That’s an order. ” 

[writers-blogck]

Opposites ( The Mandalorian x Reader ) 02

Chapter Two: Silence in the Sand Dunes 

"So, this little thing is what caused all this fuss?" You looked over at the wrinkly baby in his arms. This thing that looked like an old green man had been shrunken down into a fun-sized toy? On some other planet, this thing could be the hottest kids' toy. Even with the recent battle that just ended, the child looked no worse for the ware. He wasn't bothered in the slightest! Instead of crying or whining, the little thing was just reaching up towards your hair with his tiny three fingered hands. Mando nodded, rifle slung over his back as you made your way back to his ship. He wasn't sure why he was allowing you to come, curiosity perhaps. When he gathered up the Child and began to travel back to his ship, you started to follow him. Even his continued silence hadn't dissuaded you. You continued to hurry alongside him, allowing the blanket of silence to cover the two of your save for the few questions you had asked. Each had been answered with a curt nod or a few gruff words. The Mandalorian was used to people giving him a wide birth when they were around him. He gave off an aura of intimidation as easy as a king gave off an aura of authority. Mandalorians were ruthless warriors who would give mercy to no one. Yet, here you were, walking side by side to one you had met no less than an hour ago. You had no reason to trust him and yet here you were, following him back to his ship. Were you brave? Stupid? There was a fine line between those two and he couldn't find which side you teetered on.  He was tempted to chide you on how dangerous your actions were but instead decided to ask something that had been bothering him. "That staff," His voice cut through the wind, bringing your attention to him instead of the child. With a simple nod of his head in your direction, he began to speak again, "-Where was it? Did you have it stashed in the cantina?"

"Oh no!" You chuckled as your hands ran across the metal of your faithful companion. It had seen you through all of your adventures since you turned eleven. It had been hard at first but you luckily grew into the weapon and learned how to use it with the ease of a fish swimming through water. It looked old but you made sure to keep it in working order. No shocking needed, it didn't work when you initially found it anyway. When you first found it, you used it as nothing more than a bridge to get across the larger gaps in the abandoned ships. "I did some tinkering on it and made it retractable. It didn't take much, just some time at the saw and strong springs. It is a lot easier to get it out than putting it back in. Can't do that as fast as I can pull it out. Same as anything retractable I guess. But, anyway, I keep it on me at all times. Never know when a staff can come in handy. Even just as a walking stick like now!" Mando glanced at you through the side of his eyes, keeping his helmet looking forward. He would rather die than be caught looking. You were small- not in the thin way. Your weight had nothing to do with what caught his attention. It looked as though someone had left clothing in a dryer for too long and it had shrunk. The electrostaff looked so big when compared to your own size. All of the Bohemians he had seen were like that. Perfect for squeezing in between people and getting lost in crowds. Had evolution turned your people this way or did they simply take advantage of their size?

Perfect for being thieves and sneaky like the weasels that inhabited deep jungles. It only crossed his mind briefly that he may be basing his thoughts on stereotypes. All of your people may not be like that. Yet, it was true what people said about Mandalorians. They were fierce fighters who were emotionless. That was what Mando was. If the rumors were true about him, why wouldn't they be about you? Just as he had been taught to fight, you had been taught to move without a sound.

Yet even with your size, you had no trouble taking on those bounty hunters. You moved with the grace of the wind itself and the force of the rapid waves of rivers. Had you been taught by someone? You looked trained but the rest of your group had fled when the first blaster shot rang out. Just like rats caught sneaking in the pantry. With a sigh quiet enough to escape his modulator, he tried to push those thoughts to the back of his mind. Perhaps he wasn't being fair. He knew his people skills could use some work.

While the man's eyes were trained on you, you instead were taken aback by the ship you were travelling to. Not because of how big it was. Not because of how fancy it was. It was neither of those things. Instead, you were surprised it continued to work. It didn't look that different from the ships you found in the graveyard out in the dunes. A patchwork job of a ship, definitely not those of fancy traders or royals. You had never been on a ship before...Well, that wasn't exactly true. You had never been on a ship that worked and actually could fly. The closest thing you had been on were hover bikes.

When you were younger, you had spent every free second pouring over books that went into exact detail on how different ships worked. You had a dream of going far away and having some grand adventure. It felt as though something in your blood pulled you somewhere far past the stars. You needed to go find it. For that to happen, you would need a ship. You learned which were the best and could take most common ships apart and back together again. With the books as well as the abandoned ships, you had perfected your skill.

That is to say, you perfected it in theory. You had never worked on a working ship so you couldn't necessarily see if your actions worked or not. With everything you knew and the diagrams from your books, it looked perfect. You were sure it was right. It had to be. Yet, never once did you see your work in action. This little detail was one you kept hidden whenever working with the townspeople. You may not have experience with ships but you had tinkered around with a few vehicles when travelers found themselves with a broken bike or car.  

"You know, when I said you were a bum, I was joking," You said as you followed him up the ramp into the heart of his ship. It wasn't much better inside than it was on the exterior. It still looked rundown but it was nowhere near as intimidating as the outside. The ship was like a porcupine with scrap metal looking like sharp quills. It was a tactic to keep others from coming near.  Yet, the body was different. It looked lived in, messy but not as if it had lost the touch of a person. It held a warmth in it that the many ships you explored lacked. Your eyes crossed the shiny armor again and wondered if the Mandalorian was just like his ship. On the outside, he seemed to have no emotions and more a weapon than a person. That couldn't be true, no matter how hard he tried to convince others that it was. An emotionless fighter wouldn't be caring for a child that brought so much trouble with it. What was left as the question then was what was hidden under all that metal and blasters? "I can still kick you out."

Nodding silently, you followed the heavy footsteps of Mando as he made his way to the cockpit of the ship. It seemed to be the best kept area which only made sense. This was where the actions of life and death resided. If something went wrong here due to rust or clutter, it could mean a useless ship all the way to the death of all of those aboard. In all the books you had read, that was repeated time and time again. Respect the ship. The child was placed in what looked to be a makeshift crib made of scraps of metal and cloth. This didn't seem to matter to the green being as he fell asleep almost as soon as his big ears hit the blanket that padded him in. With the passage of time, it was becoming more and more clear that this man didn't know what he was doing. He was on the run with this kid from dangerous people. That was all you were told but these small details expanded on the situation. It was obvious to you that this man had never dealt with children before.  At least not something so young.

You hadn't until the Bohemians had taken you in at age ten. They lived by the proverb 'It takes a village to raise a child'. This included other children, who were left responsible for different chores and tasks. Younger ones would be given simple tasks such as getting blankets or water while teens were given much more responsibility. There was never a guarantee of having a child in your family circle but it was expected that every member help as if every child was their own. As you grew yourself, you learned how to take care of babies and younger children. Before you could perform at the cantinas, your job had been one of the watchers of the children. It was nice but once you hit sixteen, you were expected to use your talent to better the clan. These thoughts circled your head as you attempted to put this puzzle of a situation together. This was obviously much bigger than you and yet, that tugging in your chest seemed to only grow stronger. It felt as though this was being handed to you. For so long you had dreamed of leaving this planet and helping in something bigger than yourself, somehow helping others in more than just gathering coin. You knew you would be overstepping your boundaries with this man you just met but nothing happened if you didn't take a chance.This could be it...A Mandalorian, some strange green child, a group of bounty hunters- you couldn't ask for a more interesting adventure. You would have thought Mandalorians couldn't be shocked if not for how fast the one in front of you turned his head in your direction as you said: "I want to go with you."

[afni-fics]

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 6: Enter Lucien Flavius

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 6: Enter Lucien Flavius by C_R_Scott Chapters: 6/? Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Red Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Tim Drake, Lucien Flavius Additional Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Skyrim/DCU crossover, Reluctant Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Not Beta Read

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Summary: Tim returns to Riverwood before attempting to trek to Bleak Falls Barrows. However, instead of gathering supplies to prepare for his assignment, he ends up picking up a companion.

(NOTE: I'm in the process of reblogging the initial chapters of this story because, for some reason, Tumblr won't let me edit the earlier versions that I created using the Tumblr app on my phone. I'm also in the process of creating a masterlist for this series)

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

The next morning, after spending the evening at the Bannered Mare Inn in Whiterun and visiting the apothecary to pick up some salve for his burns, Tim reversed his journey back to Riverwood. As he walked, he thought about something the woman in the apothecary shop said as he made his purchase that morning.

***

"A severe lingering wound like that really needs to be looked at by someone with skills in healing arts. The damage is deep and basic healing potions aren't going to be strong enough to heal it completely. Perhaps if I had some stronger ingredients I could brew up a potion powerful enough to fix this, but I don't have any in stock," the elderly alchemist Arcadia said with concern. "There's a temple of Kynareth up the steps in the Cloud District.  It would take a few days, but my friend Danica and her apprentice could heal that completely for you."

Tim had sighed and shaken his head. "I wish I could, but the Jarl's given me an assignment that needs to be completed as soon as possible. I don't have a few days to spare." At the even more concerned look Arcadia gave him, one that was very similar to the kind Alfred used to give him when he'd overwork himself, Tim relented. "When I complete the Jarl's task and return to Whiterun, I promise I'll visit the temple."

***

The salve Arcadia gave him would ease some of the pain and prevent the burn from becoming infected, but it wouldn't heal the wound outright, and she was insistent he visit the temple as soon as he returned to Whiterun. Tim wished he could have taken some time to do this, but Balgruuf was right. With that dragon on the loose, the Jarl and his wizard needed as much information as they could get to protect the people of the hold.

Besides... He was used to working while injured. It almost felt... normal.

What wasn't normal was how little money he now had. The medicine, though necessary, had eaten up nearly all the Septims he had leftover after his night the Bannered Mare Inn. With a deepening sense of dread, Tim realized he couldn't remember ever being so broke before. It was an unsettling anxious feeling that he really didn't like. Is this what it was like for people who had to live paycheck to paycheck, just one medical disaster away from financial ruin? Is this what it felt like to be forced to work on a job not just out of a sense of duty or responsibility, but because if you didn't you'd have to potentially starve or be homeless?

***

"Ah! Good to see you again!" a friendly voice shook Tim from his thoughts. Apparently, while lost in his thoughts on his journey to Riverwood, he'd entered a sort of autopilot and hadn't been aware of how far he'd travelled. He glanced up, startled, to see he was already on the bridge entering Riverwood. He glanced at the sky, noting the color of twilight and the few stars starting to peak out across the expanse. Then he turned to the voice, which belonged to Gerdur. 

"Oh. Hello," Tim said.

The blonde Nord woman smiled. "I see that your meeting with Balgruuf went well," she said as she walked over to meet Tim at the gate leading into the town. "The guards from Whiterun just arrived a few hours ago and set up camp on the other end of town. They're already patrolling the area between here and Helgen. Thank you so much for seeing the Jarl for us."

Tim smiled as well. "If it makes Riverwood safer, I'm glad to have been able to help."

Gerdur inclined her head toward the Sleeping Giant Inn. "Come on, let me treat you to a meal and some mead.  I'm meeting my husband Hod there, and we would love to hear about how things went with the Jarl over a pint or two."

By reflex, Tim almost declined. But he swiftly remember his current financial state and, of course, he didn't want to be rude to Gerdur. "A meal and some mead sounds wonderful. Lead the way."

***

Because Riverwood was such a small town, news apparently travelled like wildfire among the townsfolks. As Tim settled in at the Sleeping Giant Inn, he had folks coming by every few minutes to thank him for speaking with Jarl Balgruff and sending the guards. So many people were offering to buy him drinks he just couldn't physically consume that the owner of the Inn, a woman named Delphine, actually set up a tab for him that she allowed the citizens of Riverwood to pay into. In the end, as long as he was in Riverwood, Tim would't have to worry about food or drink for a good week at least. 

"So the Jarl's mage wants you to fetch something from Bleak Falls Barrow?" Hod, Gurder's husband, asked curiously. 

Tim nodded. "Something called a Dragonstone. Have you or anyone else heard of it?"

Gerdur shook her head. "I've lived beneath the shadow of the Barrow nearly my entire life and I've never heard of such a thing."

"What is the Barrow anyways?" Tim asked.

"I forget you're not from Skyrim," Gerdur started. "Back in ancient times, during the Merethic Era, when there was a cult who worshipped dragons instead of the Nine Divine, Bleak Falls Barrow used to be both a temple for them to worship and a place to bury their dead. Of course, now there is no Dragon Cult, and the Barrow are ruins. However, a dark magic lingers in that place, and rumor has it that the halls of the Barrow are still walked by the restless dead, forced to serve their ancient dragon cult masters even now."

"So dragons, magic, and zombies... great..." Tim muttered sullenly into his mug of ale before draining the last bit of it. 

Hod regarded Tim with concern. "Are you sure you want to go to the Barrow? Last we saw you, you weren't in the best of shape after Helgen."

Tim force a reassuring smile. "I'm fine now. I visited Arcadia in Whiterun and she gave me some medicine. Nothing to worry about."

Hod breathed a small sigh of relief. "That's good. Even a healthy warrior visiting the Barrow would find exploring that accursed place a challenge." 

***

Gerdur and her husband lingered a bit longer at the inn with Tim. But as the hour grew late, they rose to leave. Being woodcutters, their day started early. "Make sure you come to our home after you're done here," Gerdur insisted. "Don't go wasting your coin on the inn for the night."

"Of course. I won't be much longer. Just want to finish this pint."

By now most of the patrons of the inn had gone, and once Hod and Gerdur left, there were just one or two left. Tim's smile faded as he stared into mug.

"What am I going to do?" he whispered to himself.

"Excuse me, sir. I don't normally do this, but... erm... have you got a moment to talk?"

Tim barely heard the footsteps approaching him, but he did notice when a stranger took a seat on the bench next to him where Hod had been just a short time before. Tim glanced at the man. He clearly wasn't a Nord. The accent was more... British, and he wore clothing that clearly spoke of someone with money. It confused Tim and immediately put him on guard. "I might," Tim responded cooly before feigning taking a sip from his mug.

The stranger smiled. "Marvelous. My name is Lucien Flavius. I'm a scientist, philosopher, amateur wizard, and something of a musician, though I supposed that's more of a hobby..."

Tim narrowed his brows as he stared hard at Lucien, silently willing him to please get to the point. 

Lucien appeared to get the hint. "Ah- I couldn't help overhearing that you are going to be making a trip up to the Bleak Falls Barrows in the morning."

"I might... What is it to you?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, I'm here in Skyrim on an expedition - academic mainly. I'm currently employed as a researcher for a new museum based out of Solitude. I was sent to this region on a few errands, and one of them is investigating those same Barrows. I'm to investigate the ruins and determine if they're of enough significant archaeological importance to fund a fully manned excavation into it.

"Alas, when I got here, I found out that in addition to the Barrow being crawling with Draugr, the outer area around the ruins has become the infested with bandits. 

"Trouble is, I'm really not much of a fighter. I know a few spells and can just about swing a sword, but beyond that I'm pretty useless in combat. Skyrim's no place for a... 'milk drinker' like me - not on my own anyway. So I'm looking for someone to travel with. 

"My original plan was to make my way to Whiterun in the morning and hire a mercenary to escort me through the Barrow, but since you're already heading that way, perhaps I could tag along with you instead? It would save me a couple of days of travel between here and Whiterun."

Tim began to shake his head. "It wouldn't be safe--"

"I will, of course, compensate you most handsomely for putting up with me."

"Really, Lucien, I don't think--"

"Would three hundred Septims up front be enough?"

Tim was so startled by the amount he couldn't mask his wide eyed look of surprise and his protest against Lucien seemed to be cut off at the knees. Sensing a crack in the young man's resolve, the scholar pushed forward, sweetening the pot even further as he pulled out a bag bulging with coin and set it on the table between them.

"Here. You can have this now. After that, I'll top you up every time we come across something useful to my research. This is all at your discretion, of course. No obligations, save that you take me with you, and assist in keeping me alive wherever possible."

He wanted to say no. Tim wanted to push the bag of coins away and encourage the scholar to go to Whiterun and hire a proper mercenary to keep him safe. It would be better for him that way. However...

"I suppose we have a deal," Tim finally relented with a sigh as he picked up the bag of coins and weighed it thoughtfully in his hand.

Lucien's face lit up. "Oh, splendid! This is going to be quite the adventure!"

  -------------------------

NOTE: Lucien Flavius is an original character Joseph Russell that can be downloaded and added to your Skyrim game as an immersive, fully voiced unique follower.

(https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/20035)

Normally, you would find him in the inn of a different town, but I've made some adjustments in this story so that Tim meets him w/out going there. In this story, Lucien is a scholar working for a special new museum based out of Solitude (https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/11802) and he's actually on the "relic hunter" initial storyline that comes if you use the "Alternate Start - Live Another Life" mod where your main character chooses to go to Solitude via ship and you have a life where you are a relic hunter invited by the museum's curator to Skyrim (https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/272).