#FAR EAST SIBLINGS MY BELOVED | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

evereinefaust · 1 year

Text

*.·:·.✧ 𝐋𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐜𝐞 ✧.·:·.*

January 25th.

This day held special meaning to a particular group of people. After all, it is the birthday of one of their beloved co-workers...

Lumie Miratisa.

A young woman with hair the same color as a clear, sunny sky and eyes as pink as rose quartz. Other than being an actress working for LOH, she was also a well-known professional figure skater taking part in competitive figure skating. And despite taking a break from her professional career, she still uses her skills to teach younger kids ice skating as a side job.

Ever since January started, [Y/n] was racking her brains on how to celebrate Lumie's birthday. She wanted the woman to enjoy the day as much as possible and even let her co-workers accompany her on such a precious day. The [h/e]ette deeply admired Lumie, and that goes to show when she decided to plan something big to celebrate her birthday this year.

"This year's winter is still cold as ever..."

A particular female blew air into her gloved hands, before rubbing them together. Her [e/c] eyes darted around the bustling streets, witnessing the crowd maneuver their way toward their desired destinations. Tiny white snowflakes cascaded down from the clouded skies, the chilly wind passed through ever so often, and the afternoon sun slowly descended from the horizon.

Once more, [Y/n] surveyed the area. She sat patiently by a vacant bench in the city plaza towered by establishments all around when all of a sudden, she felt a vibration in her pocket. She immediately fished out her phone and checked the caller ID — Dietrich.

She then answered the call. "Big brother, where are you guys now?"

"Ah, we're by the far end of the mall. Just on the east side."

"What? It's already been half an hour; we're gonna be late at this point," she scrunched her brows, groaning. "Have you guys even bought a present yet?"

"We already did," came her older sister's voice from the other line. "We're just waiting for them to finish wrapping then we'll head out right away."

"Ugh, fine. Just please hurry up," [Y/n] sighed. "You guys are supposed to be at the ice rink by now and instructing the staff in decorating the place. It's nearly 5:00 and Lumie's gonna be here soon."

"Yes, yes. We heard you — don't worry."

With a final farewell, the call ended. [Y/n] stared at her phone screen, her [e/c] eyes twitched in annoyance as the digital clock displayed went by a minute. Sighing, she pocketed the device and waited.

"I guess I have to stall Lumie once she gets here... I just hope that my older siblings will finish the preparations during that time. I can't believe that they forgot to buy a present. Jeez..."

The next minutes were spent in anticipation. As the clock kept counting every second, [Y/n] began to think about the gifts that her older siblings could've bought. Her mind drifted off as her thoughts started to wander. And after what seemed like ages, the sound of footsteps could be heard getting nearer. Soon enough, a familiar girl dressed in casual winter clothing appeared at the corner of the pathway and made her way toward the bench that [Y/n] occupied.

"Ah, you're here!" she smiled at her friend when she reached the bench.

"[Y/n]! You didn't wait long, did you?" Lumie greeted her with a warm smile on her face.

The [h/e]ette waved in return, before getting up from her seat. "No worries, I didn't. And hello, Nine, Laphlaes."

"Good afternoon, [Y/n]," Laphlaes gave a gentle close-eyed smile.

Nine waved in reply. "Hey."

Briefly taking out her phone to check the time, the young woman then pursed her lips before facing the trio. "How about we explore the mall first?"

At that suggestion, Nine's magenta orbs lit up. He then faced the redhead. "Dad! Can we go have desserts?"

"Sure, dear," the older man chuckled, seeing his adopted son bounce excitedly.

"Okay, then. Let's go."

Once entering the mall, [Y/n] immediately messaged her older siblings about Lumie's arrival in the plaza and reminded — pleading — them to hurry up with the preparation since she can only stall the birthday girl for so long. The mall's warm air engulfed their bodies, inhaling its iconic scent as they weave along the crowd. Nine's eyes sparkled as he admired the various shops lining up inside.

As per the ravenette's request, they headed straight to the sweets department and began browsing around the displays. [Y/n] gazed at the shelves full of delicious chocolate bars, lollipops, popcorn balls, candies, and pastries, while listening to the soft music playing from somewhere nearby. In a moment, her phone buzzed. Opening her device, she saw a message from her older brother.

Dietrich You're with Lumie now, right? Just keep her busy for about an hour. We're almost done with the preparations and the others are already here. I'll text you again later.

Her face softened, huffing in satisfaction. [Y/n] felt that she haven't had a chance to spend much time together with Lumie recently, which made her want to make sure that everything would go smoothly this time. And not only that, she really wanted to celebrate Lumie's birthday in a unique way. She figured that she should make good use of this opportunity to treat them all to a good night out, as well as to celebrate this special occasion. So, why not have some fun now?

As she returned her phone, a certain bluenette glided toward the younger girl. [E/c] hues met with sherbet ones.

"Hey, [N/n]!" Lumie greeted with her usual bright smile.

"Hey," she smiled back. "I'm glad that you accepted my invitation. I didn't get the chance to ask but how was your day earlier?"

"Oh, it's no problem! It's you who invited me, after all. And my day went fine. I was just teaching ice skating to my students as usual."

The younger girl nodded in understanding. "I see. How long are your sessions?"

"I have three sessions today. I have my 8-9 AM teaching kids who are below 10 years old. After that, I have my 11-12 sessions with teenagers. Then 2-3 PM to teach another batch of young children," Lumie explained, reminiscing about the wonderful time she had with her students. "It's pretty fulfilling. They really love me!"

[Y/n] giggled softly. "That sounds great. What do you usually teach?"

"Well, if they're under 10, I teach the basics like balance drills. For teenagers who have experience, I usually teach them advanced moves."

"Mhm. I see. What is your usual schedule?" [Y/n] inquired.

"My hours of teaching change frequently, from two days a week to three or four times a month. My schedule is flexible since this is just my side job. Besides, I have to make time for LOH and other things as well."

"Yeah, you're right," the younger girl chuckled. "Are there many kids in your class that are struggling with ice skating? There aren't any who stopped, are there?"

"Well, everyone does their best, especially the older ones. Though, sadly, a few of my students dropped the lesson. Some said that wasn't what they want while others said that the lesson per session is expensive," Lumie said as she clasped her hands together, her rose-colored eyes containing brief sadness. "I understand their concerns, it's just heartbreaking since I enjoyed our time together."

"Cheer up, Lumie," the younger girl said, sending a sympathetic smile. "I'm sure that those kids will remember you as their former teacher. The moment you spend with them won't be in vain."

Glancing at the [h/c]ette girl and seeing her gentle expression made Lumie's heart melt. She, too, sported a smile. "You're right. I guess I am being a little silly."

As they wrapped up their conversation, Laphlaes and Nine approached the two girls. Judging from the paper bag that the ravenette boy had in his arms, [Y/n] had assumed he just finished his candy shopping. Smiling at them, the four of them exited the store and proceeded to roam around the mall more.

"We're almost there... Ah, careful, Nine! Lumie might trip!"

"I'm holding her properly!"

"Don't fight you two," a certain male chuckled.

After an hour of just roaming around the mall, Dietrich messaged his little sister that everything was done and that they can bring Lumie to the ice rink right away. As soon as she received that message, [Y/n] led the three of them to the ice rink. Of course, since it's a surprise, Lumie had to be blindfolded all the way there. And now they were by the entrance of the ice rink, [Y/n] and Nine assisting and guiding the blindfolded birthday girl up the stairs and into the premise.

A small smile emerged on the blue-haired woman's face. Soon enough, the two teens whose arms she was holding stopped, making her halt in her tracks as well. Nine and [Y/n] moved away, making Lumie remove her hands from them. Soon, she felt a presence behind her. And after a moment, the blindfold was removed from her eyes.

As Lumie opened her lids...

"Surprise!"

Party poppers exploded, confetti filling up her vision. Everyone present cheered for her — some of them were holding the party poppers, some were clapping, and others were giving her a smile. As Lumie took in her surroundings, a smile formed on her face once again.

All that was visible in her peripheral vision were dark walls, decorated with balloons and streamers. On one side stood tables filled with different kinds of snacks, drinks, and desserts. And on the other side of the room sat a large table covered with different-sized boxes, presumably the presents gifted to her. But the most noticeable thing to Lumie was the huge ice rink at the center of the room. She then looked down, noticing that the carpet under her feet was colored a dark blue with a white diamond design. She instantly recognized the place. It is the 'Ace of Diamonds', one of the largest ice-rink in the city.

To be able to rent this whole place for the evening was astounding. Not only does it surely cost a lot, but they were able to receive permission from the manager supervising this large establishment just to celebrate her birthday. Furthermore, even a few of their co-actors were able to spare some time to celebrate her birthday with her and even bought presents along.

Lumie's sherbet pink orbs watered. She placed her fist over her chest, feeling her heartbeat churn in strange happiness. "Thank you so much, everyone."

[Y/n], who was observing her older friend's expression for a while, simpered. All of their friends walked over to Lumie and gathered around her. They said their birthday greetings to her one by one, often engaging in short chit-chat. As this was unfolding, [Y/n] decided to watch from the sidelines. Soon, her gaze landed on a pair of ravenettes off to the far end of the group, looking ever so fatigued.

The girl giggled to herself.

"Well, I guess I gotta give credit where credit's due. My older siblings did great in preparing everything in just a short time."

"Yosh!" clapping her hands together to garner the attention of her friends, a large smile emerges on [Y/n]'s lips, her [e/c] eyes twinkling in excitement. "Now that the birthday girl's here, how about we go celebrate and have fun? After all, we're at the skating rink~"

"Yeah!"

"You're right!"

"Mhm!"

"It'll be fun!"

"I can't wait!"

It didn't take long for everyone to put on their skating blades and enter the ice rink. And as expected, most of them were grouped together by the sides, hanging on the barrier for support. Some of them were having a lot of fun on the side, playing around, or just talking. Only a few who had experience with ice skating were hogging the vast middle to themselves.

"Wow, you guys sure know how to enjoy yourselves..."

A satisfied expression washed over [Y/n]'s face upon seeing her friends having fun. She glanced back at her older siblings, seeing that they were busy chatting with each other by the barrier. Deciding to leave them to their own devices, she skated towards where Lumie is, passing by her friends.

Lumie, Laphlaes, and Nine were grouped together by the side. The redhead adult was leaning against the barrier for support, watching as his son was struggling to balance on the skates. As for the blue-haired woman, she was at arm's reach from the boy, ready to assist and guide him along the ice. It didn't take long for a particular [h/c-haired to casually glide over them.

"Heya," [Y/n] grinned, her skates slowing to a stop. Her gaze then landed on the younger boy. "You okay there, Nine?"

"Ngh... I'm... fine..." he huffed.

The boy had both arms out for balance, his knees bent and his upper body almost horizontal. [Y/n] had to control herself from laughing at Nine's ridiculous posture, but the amusement plastered on her face was evident. Laphlaes was watching wordlessly, his expression was nothing else but tender. As for Lumie, she had her signature smile while watching the youngsters interact.

Noticing her staring at him, Nine turned to the teen. Instantly, his face bloomed and he pointed at her accusingly. "S-stop laughing at me!"

"But I wasn't?" the girl rose a playful brow, [e/c] hues glinted with mischief while covering her mouth to hide the grin gracing her lips.

"Grr!" dropping down his arm, Nine pouted with a red face.

Ignoring the girl, he focused back on what he was doing earlier — trying to find his balance on the ice. He wasn't able to move much, and even when he did glide a few inches, his upper body would be dragged. This resulted in him flailing his arms around to regain balance. Thankfully, he didn't fall... Yet. [Y/n] burst into laughter at the sight of Nine, unable to contain herself anymore. The [h/c]ette girl wiped the tears that formed at the corner of her eyes as she attempted to catch her breath.

"Now you're laughing!" he exclaimed, huffing in embarrassment. He glared at the [h/c]-haired female, but his eyes held no animosity in them.

"I-I'm sorry!" [Y/n] managed to wheeze out, feeling her cheeks burn. "Oh my! You just look cute, Nine!"

"Hmph! I'm not cute and I'll show you that I can perfect this," Nine replied, turning around and skating off. "You're just lucky that you got to practice before."

His legs weren't steady yet, resulting in a few falls here and there, but he managed to recover quickly. Laphlaes slowly followed his son, keeping a watchful eye while he also attempt to move without falling. They just moved a few distances away from the two girls.

"He's really so cute~"

Finally, her laughter died down. She face Lumie who was unusually quiet during the whole ordeal. She saw the woman's expression, a hint of joy evident in the slight crinkle on the corner of her eyes. A tint of pink spread across her fair cheeks. A smile crept its way to [Y/n]'s face too as she watched her friend having fun.

"What do you think, Lumie?" the [h/c]ette strike up a conversation, pushing her left foot forward to glide a bit. "About the celebration, I mean."

"It's lovely, [N/n]," Lumie turned her head in [Y/n]'s direction, her sherbet-pink orbs gazing fondly at her. "Especially now that we get to spend more time with each other like this finally. Thank you for celebrating my birthday like this."

Butterflies fluttered in the younger girl's stomach upon hearing those words, and a happy blush decorated her cheeks. "Honestly, for the past week or so, I was thinking of unique ways to celebrate your birthday with everyone else. I wanted to do something special for you and the others and this is what I thought of."

"Hm... Isn't this difficult to pull off, though?" Lumie pondered, resting a finger on her lips. "Despite being later in January, Ace of Diamonds still has tons of regular clients using the rink. Besides, it must be expensive to rent the skating rink."

"Ah, well..." stopping just in front of the bluenette, [Y/n] let out an awkward chuckle, rubbing her temple sheepishly. "I actually had to beg and convince Rouin to help me with it."

Lumie chuckled. "Oh, tell me everything about it~"

"Well, I pinched in the idea during the first week of January. I was extremely nervous since knowing Rouin, he wouldn't usually agree to impractical things like this. Fortunately, my older siblings supported my idea. I spent at least a day racking my brain for ways to convince him. Eventually, he agreed. Though I'm not sure if it's because he was persuaded by my words or that he has no choice but to give in to my demands. Hehe..."

"Fufu~ Considering your tenacity, I wouldn't be surprised. I assume Rouin handled most of it, right?"

[Y/n] let out a sheepish laugh, sweatdropping at the older woman's words. "Yeah. Lucilicca and Laphlaes also helped. They contacted the manager to book the rink in advance. Fortunately, the date was open and we were able to rent it for about five hours in the evening. The cost was way more expensive than I thought but everyone here agreed to contribute a certain amount to pay for it. Then we invited everyone. Though, as you can see, only a few of us are present. But even though the others weren't able to come, they still gave a present. It's stacked over there."

"Mhm. I see," humming softly, Lumie took note of every little detail from the story. She then smiled, skating around [Y/n]. "It's unfortunate that we weren't able to have everyone here, but it's the thought that mattered most. Besides, we ought to enjoy today and make memories so we have something to talk about with everyone else!"

"You're right," [Y/n] giggled, recalling that Lumie loves having someone to talk with.

"Oh! By the way, [N/n]. How many times have you ice skated?"

"Only two times. Both with my family. This is the first time I experienced it with friends, although not everyone is here. Though I hope we get to have everyone present next time."

"I see, I see," the blunette nodded. She placed her thumb and forefinger under her chin, thinking. Suddenly, she beamed. "Oh! I have an idea!"

"What is?" raising a curious brow, [Y/n] leaned closer to Lumie who was gesturing for her to come close.

The adult woman cupped her hand and whispered something in the younger girl's ear. Once she finished, she removed her hand and watched as her [e/c] orbs widened in surprise. Immediately, the girl gasped. The bluenette giggled at the reaction, pleased.

"Ohhh... That's brilliant, Lumie! Why didn't I think of that?!" she exclaimed happily. Her hands immediately found themselves clasping together as she stared at Lumie's face with sparkling eyes. "I'll be looking forward to it!"

"Okay," Lumie nodded happily. "I'm keeping you here for too long. You go and enjoy skating, [N/n]."

"Mhm! Catch you later, Lumie!" waving, [Y/n] skated away from the blue-haired adult.

Lumie's roseate orbs followed after the [h/c]-haired girl. She watched as the youngster returned her to her older siblings. Eliciting a gentle smile, she then turned around at Nine's call, skating to where they are.

"Hallo~ I'm back~" [Y/n] chirped, her skates slowly stopping right in front of the twins.

"Oh, hey," Dietrich acknowledged, raising a hand before dropping it.

"What were you talking about with Lumie?" Zelda asked.

However, [Y/n] smirked, placing both hands on her hips. "It's a secret that I'm not going to tell you two~"

"Wow..." the ravenette man said as he and his twin sweatdropped. "That must have been interesting...."

[Y/n] attention drifted to her friends. Nearby, the group of the Blake cousins, Charlotte, Fram, and Johan were together. Mikhail was standing still, his arm out for the blonde girl to latch on to for support. Lyn sat on her legs, cheeks squished against both fists with her elbows resting on her thigh. Her face contained a hint of boredom, squabbling with her older cousin once more. Something along the lines of "I really want to see you fall on ice," and "I doubt you can skate properly without any help," were thrown at each other.

As for Charlotte, her gaze was fixated on poor Johan struggling in front of her. Her round green eyes blinked innocently, however, the words that flew out of her mouth were backhanded encouragement targeted at the other blonde. She didn't mean any harm, it's just the way her words were delivered that felt like an insult towards the bespectacled man. Fram was also observing her friend, a hand on her hip while another was scratching her head. Her half-lidded blue eyes stared at Johan, lips pursed into a thin line.

The [h/c]-haired girl pushed herself forward, inching closer to the group to eavesdrop on their conversation and enjoy watching Johan suffer from humiliation. Speaking of the blonde, he was struggling even more. His shoulders were hunching upwards while his legs were slightly bent backward. His arms were spread out for balance, though, whenever he moved his legs, instead of moving forward, he was sliding backward. One sentence coming from Fram made the [h/c]ette laugh, however—

"Maybe you should really consider using skating aids. You know, the one for kids."

Flustered, Johan still manage to reply. "I don't need it."

"Welp. Alright, your call," the ravenette shrugged.

Johan's face was mixed with emotions, [Y/n] could tell. Frustration from his inability to skate. Embarrassment from being watched as he struggles. Humiliation due to his friend's comments and unintentional insults. And the determination to pull through and make progress. Although, seeing his tomato-red face and his quivering lips was a sight to behold. And [Y/n] wanted so badly to join in bullying Johan and tease him incessantly about it.

But for now, she decided to be forgiving and spare him another wave of embarrassment. It's not like she doesn't have any chance to jab at the blonde's ego... After all, [Y/n] is the epitome of a darling rascal.

She glided towards them, stopping just an arm's reach from Johan. Every gaze landed on her as everyone had various reactions to her arrival.

"Oh, you're here, [N/n]!" Charlotte beamed, waving cheerfully.

Fram placed both hands behind her head and grinned. "Hey."

Lyn stood up, dusting her clothes as she sent a wide smile. Mikhail also had a soft smile upon seeing the girl. Meanwhile, Johan glanced up from his almost crouched position. Despite being in a ridiculous situation, he managed to bring out a sheepish smile, the pink tint hasn't left his fair cheeks. For some reason, [Y/n]'s heart fluttered upon seeing such a rare sight.

She chuckled, inching closer to him. "Are you okay, Johan? Your face looks quite red."

"I'll be fine, thanks."

"No. No, you won't be fine," Charlotte shook her head with a huff, crossing her arms. Her face was serious — eyebrows knitted and lips pouted. "You won't be able to move on if you can't balance yourself! You can't skate to save your life!"

"Please, Charlotte..."

At Charlotte's remark, everybody laughed. Except for Johan whose features twisted into inevitable defeat and Mikhail who held a sympathetic look. The former hid his blooming face from the group by covering it with his hands, attempting to ignore everyone's laughter. As a result, his face burned hotter.

"Cute..."

[Y/n] giggled at his misfortune as she approached him. Reaching out, she gently touched his shoulder, shaking it a bit. Hesitantly looking up, his dark pools met with her [e/c] ones.

"I'll give you a tip so you don't have to suffer further," she coaxed. "Please stand straight."

And just like that, [Y/n] began advising the older blonde on how to stand and balance on the ice. Of course, she was narrating all the tips she had used from the first time she tried ice skating years before. The rest of the group watched in awe as the young girl manage to get Johan on his feet and is now gliding through the ice with little difficulty. And now that Johan was able to fend for himself, Charlotte doesn't need to watch his struggles and actually skate with him.

It didn't take long for the five of them to skate around — Mikhail and Lyn were trying to catch each other and push the other off balance while Fram, Charlotte, and Johan were making small glides, matching with and making sure that the bespectacled blonde doesn't trip and ended up injuring himself.

"I didn't expect that he easily learn from me. Am I a great instructor?"

Smiling triumphantly, [Y/n] decided to let them enjoy themselves and move on to her next set of targets. Nearby, she saw a particular duo. Her eyes glistened as she made her way toward them.

"[Y/n]!" a certain magenta-haired female greeted, grinning widely. Her same-colored eyes sparkled with happiness, making the [h/c]ette chuckle softly. "Yo! Wassup?"

"Hey, Astrid. I'm here to check up on you two," she returned the smile. Her gaze then landed on the man leaning against the barrier. "You're not looking so great, are you, Joshua?"

"Ugh..." the man groaned, trying to find his balance. His narrowed eyes were directed at [Y/n], distress showcased in his pink hues. "You don't say... I was taking my time to relax here when Astrid came to bother me."

"You're no fun!" Astrid crossed her arms, frowning. "What's the point of attending Lumie's birthday celebration if you're not going to enjoy it?"

"Well, I prefer to be left on my own devices for a while," he sighed in exasperation, face-palming.

"Boo!" The magenta-haired female stuck a tongue at him.

A smirk finally emerged on [Y/n]'s lips, and a hint of mischief sparkled in her [e/c] orbs. "Oh, well. I bet this is Joshua's first time on the ice. I can see that he wants to save himself from potential embarrassment~"

At her words, Joshua whipped his head in the young girl's direction. The shock was evident on his face for a brief moment before he went poker-faced. He huffed, aggrieved by her accusations... Though, judging by the embarrassed blush on his cheeks and his desire to be left alone screams that he's really a first-timer in ice skating. [Y/n] wasn't complaining though — since a certain red-eyed ravenette wasn't present today, she had to find other victims to tease incessantly.

Astrid stifles a laugh. Then, she had a brilliant idea. Grinning, she faced the younger girl. [Y/n], noticing her stare, glanced in Astrid's direction, meeting her mischief-filled orbs. And as if they were telepathically communicating, [Y/n]'s smirk grew.

They then both faced the pink-haired man. Joshua noticed their gaze, and he felt like prey caught by two predators. He tried to keep his calm, but the sweat cascading down the side of his face was certainly an indication of what he was currently feeling.

"Hey..." he said, watching as the two approached inch by inch. "Stop it."

Yet, despite his pleas, Astrid and [Y/n] grabbed each of his arms away from the barrier and began pulling Joshua into the ice.

"H-hey!"

"You'll thank us later~" Astrid nonchalantly grinned, using all her strength to pull Joshua and skate into the middle.

"Enjoy~"

Once they were a few feet away from the safety of the barriers, both girls let go of Joshua. Due to inertia, the man went gliding a few more inches, almost losing his balance when the ones holding him left. Fortunately for him, he was able to keep his body steady with little difficulty for a brief moment...

Until the sudden weight loss caused him to lose concentration on which foot to use. His legs wobbled, and suddenly, he fell on his backside. Astrid and [Y/n] watched the entire time, even hearing the thud when he fell on the ice. [Y/n] winced, closing an eye during the impact. Although, her worry for him was brief when amusement immediately washed over her at Joshua's misfortune.

"Ow..." the man painfully drawled out, rubbing his backside with one hand while the other was flat against the cold ice.

"Yeesh..."

Even Astrid felt Joshua's pain. Though, she could only give a low whistle as if none of what happened was because of her. Instead, facing [Y/n], she raised a hand. The younger girl understood what that gesture meant. So with guilty pleasure, she high-fived the woman.

"Ugh... I hate you two," after he recovered, Joshua glared hard at the two girls, still sitting on the cold ice.

He was definitely embarrassed... but his annoyance overshadowed that. His fair face was covered with a red hue, his eyebrows knitted and his eyes narrowed. His lips were pursed into a thin line, the corner dipping into a frown. Despite his look of annoyance, [Y/n] only giggled in amusement. She couldn't help it — he looked so cute.

"Alright, alright. Let's stop embarrassing poor Joshua," [Y/n]'s grin became apologetic. After all, she did cause a scene. "We'll help you up. Will that make you forgive us?"

The girls skated to Joshua, stopping in front of him. They both extend a hand and he took them without hesitations. In just a moment, they were able to pull him up and help him keep steady on his feet. Once he was stable, Joshua exhaled deeply, letting go of their hands. After dusting his wet butt, he gave them a stern glare.

"I'll think about forgiving you two later."

[Y/n] smiled playfully. "Aw~"

"Take your time, Josh," chimed in Astrid. "You know that you can't stay mad at our cutie over here."

Joshua turned away, his face becoming flushed again, unable to hold back his embarrassment. Though, what Astrid said was definitely true. Despite [Y/n]'s pranks and intense teasing, her charm and innocence would make them give in. Though, it only works most of the time.

The man huffed, trying to figure out how to return to his original place. Surprisingly, he was making small progress. However, Astrid won't let him have it.

"Nuh-uh-ah! You won't get back there!" once more, she grabbed his forearm and skated away, pulling him even more in the middle of the open rink.

"Astrid!"

Joshua's panicked scream could be heard throughout the room as he was dragged across the rink by his arm. He tried his best to tug free but Astrid was surprisingly strong for someone who isn't that muscular. As he attempted to shake off the woman's grip, [Y/n] snickered quietly at his expense, watching them from afar.

"Well, there they go..."

The young girl pushed forward, skating towards a particular dark blue-haired adult not that far away. Helena was struggling just like the others, but surprisingly, she was able to get her balance right away and was doing something else.

"Hey, Helena," [Y/n] called out when the older woman caught sight of her.

Helena perked up upon being addressed, her brow quirked in surprise. "Ah, [Y/n]! What brings you here?"

"Well..." [Y/n] paused as she looked away, spotting the Valkarios cousins zooming across the rink like they were in a race. "I was just checking up on everyone here just to see how they're doing. How are you, though? Struggling?"

"I'm fine," the woman assured. "I was struggling at first but I got the hang of it. I'm glad that my ballet skills are useful here."

"Mhm. I kinda expected you to be one of the first to actually master ice skating," [Y/n] smiled. "After all, figure skaters learn ballet first before they get on the ice."

Helena's golden orbs glinted with interest. "Do you have experience?"

"Hm?" facing the bluenette, [Y/n] let out a sheepish chuckle as she waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, no. I just discovered that ballet goes hand-in-hand with ice skating when watching an anime about figure skating. I don't do ballet. And ice skating is just for fun."

"Oh, I see."

"Though, I saw you trying something out earlier," the [h/c]ette mentioned. "Were you implementing your ballet earlier?"

"You saw that?" Helena rubbed her temple, averting her golden eyes in embarrassment. "I didn't think anyone noticed."

[Y/n] grinned. "Well, I did~"

At the younger girl's comment, Helena chuckled. "Yeah, just like you said earlier, figure skating is like ballet on ice. I haven't tried ice skating before so I was curious as to what techniques I can pull off."

[E/c] orbs sparkled in awe. "Wow... That's great!"

"Hehe, thanks. And oh, do y—"

All of a sudden, a large figure zoomed past the duo, almost knocking into [Y/n] if it wasn't for Helena's quick reflex, and pulled her in. [E/c] hues were wide in surprise, her heart rate speeding up from whatever had occurred. The young [h/c]ette was in the taller girl's hold, Helena's arms wrapped protectively around her.

Golden eyes glared at the culprit, yelling at the man. "Hey! Watch where you're going, Axel! You almost injured [Y/n]!"

"S-sorry!" Axel apologized, slowing down to a halt. He turned back to see Helena still hugging [Y/n], her heated glare aimed at him. He sweatdropped, rubbing his head.

"I told you to slow down, didn't I?" a certain redhead approached her cousin, sighing.

Axel just frowned, refusing to say another word. After a bit of reprimanding, he and Alev left, skating away but this time, slower. Helena sighed in relief, glad that there wasn't any big incident that happened. She eventually let go of the younger girl, fixing her slightly disheveled hair.

"Sorry I suddenly pulled you in like that," she said, giving [Y/n] an apologetic smile. "It just happened all of a sudden."

"No worries! Actually, if it wasn't for you, I would be on the ice right now with wounds all over my body," [Y/n] got goosebumps at the idea of broken bones and lacerations all over her body. She felt her heart thump, fearful of the possibility. "I doubt I could handle Axel's body slamming me into the ground. Not to mention on ice with literal blades on our shoes."

Helena's expression softened, but the worry hadn't left her face. "I'll give the idiot a big scolding so that he won't do that again. In the meantime, be careful."

"Mhm. I guess I'll see you later, Helena!"

Waving goodbye to the blue-haired adult, [Y/n] skated towards the last group she hadn't spent time with. This time, it consisted of Lucilicca, Lairei, and Vanessa. Eager to be with them, the girl skated faster to reach them who were basically on the opposite side of where she was with Helena earlier. Fortunately, it didn't take long for her to approach the three women.

"[Y/n], were you alright?" Vanessa asked, concern clear on her face.

The [h/c] girl nodded with a smile, showing she was okay.

"Thank goodness. We saw what happened earlier," Lucilicca mumbled to herself while shaking her head. "Axel's gonna be heavily reprimanded by his uncle once he hears of this."

[Y/n] just chuckled at their worrying expressions. "There's no need to worry! Besides, Helena saved me from harm. I'm alright now, see?"

"If you say so," Lairei smiled.

"So, are you ladies okay? You aren't struggling much, are you?" [Y/n] questioned, noticing that they were just standing around and talking.

"We're fine. We're getting the hang of it," the short-haired brunette simpered, clasping her hands together in front. "I ice skated when I was young, so it doesn't take long for me to adjust."

"Dhurahan would be enjoying this if he's here," Lairei commented, sighing softly.

The younger girl tilted her head, curious. "Oh, why wasn't he able to come?"

"He said he can't. Something came up with his family that he has to resolve."

"Oh. That's unfortunate," a frown settled itself on [Y/n]'s face after.

"How about Rouin?" Lucilicca asked, her attention directed at the younger female. "I thought he would be here considering he did most of the process of renting the rink."

"Ah, well. Sadly, he's busy with paperwork," the girl responded, looking downward with regret. "I can't bother him much, can I?"

Considering the hard work he put on to fulfill [Y/n]'s wish of a grand birthday party for Lumie, it's only natural for him to come as well. However, his responsibilities with his work prevented him from attending. [Y/n] would like it if he was to come as well, but bothering him even more when he did everything for her was a bit too much. So, instead, she just hoped that the next time they would go ice skating, everyone would be present.

A smile was plastered on the silver-haired woman's face, patting the girl's shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry. There'll always be next time."

"Mhm. And I'm sure all of us would be present," Vanessa added.

"The rink wouldn't be able to accommodate all of us when that happens," Lairei chuckled.

"Now, go and have fun with your siblings," Lucilicca said, leaning her head in the direction of the two ravenettes.

[Y/n] held a smile with her own. "Sure! I'll catch up with you three later!"

"Sure."

"See you later."

After bidding farewell, [Y/n] began making her way across the ice and back to her siblings. As soon as she reached her older brother and sister, the twins greeted her enthusiastically with warm smiles upon seeing her return safely to them.

"I didn't expect you almost get in an accident, [N/n]," Dietrich's lackadaisical comment was a clear sarcastic remark.

"Stop it," Zelda nudged at her twin, earning a pained grunt. Facing her younger sister, she showed concern that was absent from the male. "You're not injured, right?"

"I'm fine, big sis," [Y/n] reassured, bringing her arms out to show that she was indeed alright. She faced her older brother, smiling sweetly. "Besides, I bet big brother Dietrich will be able to handle Axel's body slam on the ice."

The man gulped, a nervous sweat trickling down his forehead. Despite the innocent smile, the aura that the younger girl exudes was nothing but dangerous. It sent chills down his spine. Dietrich had to look away from his younger sister, chuckling awkwardly and mentally praying that she won't resort to violence once they get home after the celebration.

"Anyway, I've been skating around and being with everyone else but," she looked between the twins, scrutinizing them both. With her hands on her hips, she huffed. "It seems that during the time I am away the two of you aren't leaving this place."

Zelda and Dietrich shared looks. They knew exactly what the girl meant, but it was either they can't be bothered or just refused to skate. [Y/n] rolled her eyes at them. Then, she grabbed each of their wrists, surprising them both. Just like what she was doing with Joshua earlier, she used all of her strength to pull the twins away from the barrier, albeit with much difficulty considering they are on ice.

"Guh! These two are heavy as heck! If only I have help!"

Two pairs of obsidian orbs watched as the youngest tried her hardest to pull two adults on her own. Her face twisted into one of determination, determination mixed with annoyance. The twins couldn't help but chuckle at how stubborn she is. Even though they were also struggling to keep their balance while being pulled, the two found their younger sister's strength admirable.

They watched in silent awe as [Y/n] was finally able to drag them onto the ice. Her lips curled into a triumphant smile, happy to win this little fight against the twins.

"Alright! Now it's time for the real fun!" [E/c] eyes burning with resolve, she turned around and clasped her older siblings' hands on each hand — Dietrich on her right and Zelda on her left.

Knowing what she wanted, they both eventually complied. They then pushed their foot forward, gliding along the ice gracefully, slowly but surely.

An hour and a half later, everyone was getting tired and hungry from their activity. One by one they left the rink and settled comfortably on the provided benches in the lounge. Some of them went in the restroom to change or fix themselves, others were getting a drink and some snacks by the table nearby, while a select few — Joshua, notably — were so drained that they were ready to fall asleep right away. Only a few people remained in the rink, notably Lumie and [Y/n] who were busy chatting with each other.

A certain magenta-haired adult noticed this. And although it wasn't anything out of the ordinary, something was definitely up with them. Driven by curiosity, she went over to the only people she could ask about it.

"Hey, Zelda, Dietrich," Astrid plopped right behind the bench they were situated, resting her arms on the top of the backrest.

"Oh, hey," replied Zelda, wiping the sweat off her face. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just wondering what's lil' [Y/n]'s up to. She's chatting with Lumie for a while now."

"Well, it's normal for her to talk with the birthday girl," the long-haired ravenette shrugged. "Maybe they're just sharing a bunch of stories. You know how Lumie gets..."

"And considering [Y/n], she won't tell a single soul anything about her secret," added the other twin, sighing. "We asked her earlier what she was talking about with Lumie but we didn't get an answer. So, yeah."

"Hm..." Astrid puckered her lips in thought.

Zelda's words do make sense. But today, Astrid knows that something fishy is certainly going on with the two. Nonetheless, she dropped the idea and returned to resting and chatting with the others. She knew that there isn't any point in trying to question [Y/n] or Lumie. All she knows is that there was something going on with them, and she had no doubt about it.

A few minutes passed, and a certain light-blue-haired woman and [h/c]-haired young girl finally leave the rink. Together, they went over to the table where Lumie's gifts were stacked. They searched through the countless boxes, taking the one that seemed to contain what they want. It was a rather flat box with a white wrapper and light blue ribbon. Once they were done, they exchanged a few words before Lumie went in the direction of the restrooms while [Y/n] went over to the staff present.

While everyone was busy resting or having a snack, the lights in the rink suddenly dimmed. Confused chatter enveloped the room as the actors were wondering whether the staff decided to lower the electricity by turning off the lights that aren't used. It didn't bother them much, that is until something earned their attention.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!" a familiar voice boomed through the loudspeaker scattered around the ice rink.

"[Y/n]?"

"Is she in an announcement room? What?"

"Oh boy, what is she up to this time?"

"That girl..." Dietrich face-palmed. "No wonder I hadn't seen her for a while now."

Zelda looked around, trying to find where she could be despite the darkness. "Was she even permitted to use their components?"

"In a normal circumstance, she wouldn't. I wonder what tricks she used to let the staff allow her to use the PA system."

"Please turn your attention towards the rink," [Y/n] instructed.

Although confused, everyone ambled towards the empty rink, careful not to stumble in the dark. They lined up around the rink, the barrier separating them from what was inside. Although dim, some of them could see a figure in the middle of the ice. Without warnings, a spotlight turned on and it was focused on the lone figure standing in the middle of the ice rink.

They instantly recognized the person's light-blue hair tied in an intricate hairstyle. Their head was bowed, preventing them from seeing their face. The cloth this person was wearing was undoubtedly a figure skating dress. However, what made them stare in awe was the design that looked similar to Aurea's outfit she made for one of the actors — Morning Brilliance.

No doubt, it was Lumie Miratisa. The birthday girl.

Everyone's confusion instantly washed away, replaced by surprise. They stared with bated breath at the woman, watching in awe, waiting for what was next. This was definitely new. Never did they expect this scenario in the first place.

"Ah, no wonder I feel like something was off," Astrid mumbled to herself, letting out a huge breath before a smile graced her lips. "You really are full of surprises, [Y/n]..."

After a good moment of silence, Lumie raised her head and faced the audience. A wide grin was planted on her features as she waved at them.

"Let's give a round of applause for Lumie Miratisa! Tonight, she's going to perform for everyone here!"

At the [h/c]ette's words, loud thunderous applause resonated in the entire venue. The crowd was clapping enthusiastically, cheering for the blue-haired figure skater. In a moment, the music started playing and Lumie began her performance. Every eye was fixated on her, seemingly captivated by her every move. From her dancing to the graceful movements she would make as she twirled and swerved across the ice; it was mesmerizing.

[Y/n]'s expression softened as she focused her gaze on the woman. Her mouth curved into a smile as delight glowed in her glossy, [e/c] eyes. She could feel her heart churn, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Just seeing Lumie enjoying her special day like this was enough for the young adult.

She had accomplished her goal.

#fanfic #fanfiction #alternate universe #oneshot #one shot #reader insert #x reader #fluff #drabble #lord of heroes #loh #female reader #moments in archive

5 notes · View notes

bunnywabbit2 · 2 years

Note

Bunny tell me about your OCs (this is Gleam I’m just too lazy to log in dhdjdj)

omg omg ily gleam ok ok so

disclaimer these r the characters I made with my elementary school friends in 5th grade but I’ve been talking to one of those friends and we talked a lot about our little guys and I just hold so much fondness for them

we would get on our family computers each night and type out roleplay stories on google docs (legit istg we wrote like 4 books (docs) that were like 80pgs each…where is that creativity and motivation now huh!!)

also ive forgotten a lot about them </3 but thats ok!

so. theres 9 of them. yea kjdshfsfdhdsjk XD 6 'good guys' (ivy, iris, alex, jake, christa, carson) and 3 'bad guys' (justin, jade, madison)

where do i begiN

oh yea also they all have powers and fancy colored eyes bc i mean thats just the fifth grade elementary school girl experience yk

also their base characters were created back then but a lot of the more specificy stuffs like heights and headcanons (which? ig would technically be canon since its our characters? but?) were kind of all thought up like a week ago at 2am on discord <3333 also friend & i queer-ified them

so!

ivy: wasian, pan, she/they, 5'5, libra, brown hair dark green eyes, plant powers i believe..?

alex: chinese, demiro, agender & transmasc, he/any, 5'11, capricorn, black hair black eyes, prob something like shadow powers or whatever i forgot

justin: chinese, aroace, nor/mal (/j), 5'9, black hair black eyes, also prob something like shadow powers

iris: wasian, bi, she/her, 5’3, libra, dark brown hair purple eyes, light powers???

jake: cishet white man (derogatory). 6'0 but says he's 6'3, august leo. blond hair blue eyes. gym bro. i forgot powers lol

jade: east asian, lesbian w major comphet, they/fae/she, 5'7, black hair green eyes, ice powers prob

christa: southeast asian, she/her, omniro, demisexual, 5'9 (taller than justin), aries, black hair red eyes, fire powers??? mayperhaps???? forgot

carson: white boy, bi, 5'1, gemini, brown hair something eyes, something like poison powers idk

madison: hispanic, aro, she/any, 5'2, red hair brown eyes, animal powers??????

they're all like 18 ish except justin whos early 20s prob?? ivy & iris are twins, alex and justin are siblings uhhhhh

ivy and alex are in a wonderful very soft and sweet relationship <333 ivy makes alex flower crowns and alex paints her nails and does her eyeliner and <3333 its kinda prep(?) shy cottagecore girl(?) x goth yk

so in fifth grade we made this whole iris jake jade love triangle thing and i think we were giving jake too much credit back then. jade gets one of those incredibly Gender haircuts and iris has her bi awakening <3

christa and carson! are also together i believe..? mwah i love them very much <333 christa is buff and is on some sports team prob basketball or whatever and carson is just this little guy. she gives him her sports jackets to wear. the height difference my beloved. girlboss x little loser man.

but also carson had his bi awakening from jake which is. so funny to me like jake is one of those flirts with his friends and says 'no homo' except it actually made carson Feel Things and that was a dark time <3

and justin and madison are just too cool for this <333

im prob missing a few things but yea :D if you actually read this far wow lol sorry for this being so long <333

#asks #gleam ily <3333333

2 notes · View notes

b10000p · 8 months

Text

Ashes / Dust

"Abandon all your stupid dreams/about the girl I could've been"

Shout out to my beloved fake brother Balls who suffered endless agonies in my google doc comments.

Word Count: 6296

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

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

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

Her story will end here, on this tower.

Ada is sure of it as she stares ahead. Every bone in her body is aching, begging to be taken back down onto the cold concrete of the sidewalk. She refuses to look down, staring straight at the horizon. Her eyes sting, wind whipping hair and debris into them.

I am going to die today. Holy shit, I’m gonna die.

Fear wracks her body as her eyes trail downwards. She snaps them back to the horizon, breathing heavily through her nose, before forcing her eyes up higher still, staring at the stars. Count the constellations, she thinks, opening and closing her hand tightly as sweat slicks across it.

One

Ada imagines the starlight reflecting off her eyes. The moment is cinematic in her mind: her silhouette would be cast in the moonlight romantically, a dreamy 40s haze flickering over her face. the camera pushing in, catching the money shot. TwoThe shot would be used in all the trailers. The director would brag in promotional interviews how it was done organically. “Those are real stars,” he would say, “We wanted to be as authentic as possible.”

Maybe even it would be the poster. A solitary eye, shockingly green, reflecting starlight back at the viewer. No, that’d be a stupid poster. Let Freya make the posters, Ada.

She chuckles to herself and hangs her head. Her mood shifts immediately as the cars below roll by obliviously, reminded of the imminent death she’s currently dancing with. Goddamn it, she thinks, gritting her teeth and squeezing her eyes closed. She shakes her arms a little, takes short, quick breaths. Her body tensed as wind blew on her back. She wonders if it’s taunting her. Or maybe it’s trying to comfort her, like an older sibling’s hand on your back as you stand on the diving board. Three

Ada shakes her hands at her sides, shifting on her feet. Again, she looks down. The concrete is far, far below her as she stands on the Library Tower. Its outcroppings were so pretty to her from the ground; up here, they looked like a stone cold, gory death. For half a second, the image of her body slamming into one of the jutting edges forced its way into her mind before she shoved it back out. Ada stared; the toe of her shoe stared back, peeking over the edge of the raised ledge, the curve of her sneakers frowning back up at her. She sucked in a harsh breath through her teeth, then another, then a third. Quickly, before she could stop herself, Ada walked forward.

She does not jump, does not leap artfully as she hoped she would. Instead, in the blink of an eye, she is gone, the horizon emptier with her absence.

Let’s go back to the beginning, just for a second. Her name is Adaline Eleanor Castillo. Her eyes are green, the color of toxicity. Her hair is black, dark brown in certain lights (or so her girlfriend says). She was born and raised in East LA, making a home out of a city that had no space for her left.

She met her aforementioned girlfriend at a party in Beverly Hills. Ada had been invited by some guy that was trying to get at her, eager to introduce her to the life he promised he could provide. She saw her first, standing in the corner, the red lights of the party blinking off her hair. It was blonde, surprisingly, but she wore it well. Freya, she had shouted over the music at Ada when she asked her name, her brown eyes never looking away. To this day, Ada swears she felt the universe shift in that moment, opening up and making space for the two of them.

She is the oldest of many cousins, the first daughter, niece, granddaughter. The pressure of her family legacy weighs her down, exacerbated by her choice of partner, but she would never say that out loud. She is her father’s clone, and therefore prodigy, easy jokes and biting curses rolling off her tongue. It broke her heart the first time she brought Freya home and he’d disappeared into his room, locking the door behind him, refusing to see her for weeks.

She wants to bleach her hair desperately, but Freya won’t let her. Ada would argue the pros (I would look amazing, we would match, and if it’s bad, no one will try to steal me from you.) Freya would smile back softly, like a friend watching you do something stupid, and counter each one (You would not look amazing, people would think we’re related, you get zero play anyways). Her tone would be condescendingly soft in any other circumstance, but Ada knows this conversation like the back of her hand. The argument is familiar, a staple in their relationship. They read it like a script, putting emphasis on new sentences each time, ad libbing when it fit, changing a word here and there.

Ada thought about Freya as she fell. She imagined Freya’s disapproving but amused stare, imagined her shaking her head and crossing her arms. Ada had memorized the lines formed by her smile years ago, and she saw each one clear as day now, wrinkling Freya’s face and scrunching her beautiful dark eyes. Ada hated her smile, only because it made her close those eyes every time, shutting her out of their hypnosis for seconds longer than she could stand.

She managed a gasp before her air was gone. Ada couldn’t tell if the tears in her eyes were from the thought or the wind as it whipped past her face. She fell faster with each second, the tears being forced from her eyes as she closed in. She wondered how the concrete would feel as she bounced off of it, exploding like a sack of flour.

Ada’s eyes slipped close as she shot a web, using the momentum of the fall to swing herself into a flip. Her toes glanced the sidewalk as she pointed her feet, twisting her body like an acrobat. Again she imagined the potential cinema of this moment, and for a second, she was at peace; the image of her body arching across the moon filled her mind's eye, silver light catching the symbol on her chest as she fell back to the earth.

This is the story after the story, after Ada has lost and won again. This is not the Ada from before, nervously counting the stars above her. This is not the Ada that Freya knows, all smiles and wild eyes as she argues with the cunning wit of a world-class lawyer. This is not even the person that Ada saw in the mirror and watched grow over 20 long years.

This is Araña. .

“I think I’m pregnant.”

“You’re not pregnant, Ada.” Ada grinned, watching Freya move around the apartment. She was hanging upside down on the couch, legs slung over the back. Freya bumped into them occasionally during her cleaning rush. Her mother was coming over later; therefore, the shared apartment was the dirtiest it had ever been in the history of its existence. Freya had spent all morning scurrying around the one bedroom, dragging Ada along with her in her quest to destroy the existence of dust. Finally, after hours, Ada was exhausted, but Freya chugged along, dutifully sweeping the wood floor of the living room with a hand broom. “Yeah, but imagine if I was.” Freya paused her manic sweeping and stood upright, dustpan in hand. She turned at the waist and stared at Ada blankly. “Are you gonna help me?” She gestured around the room with the pan, and frowned as specks of dust floated back into their position on the floor. Like tiny dancers. Pin that, Ada thought to herself as she watched them. Huffing dramatically, she swung herself upright, planting her feet on the hardwood floor. “Would you help me? Or would you walk out on me, never to return.” Ada grinned again, mocking a transatlantic accent and slumping backwards onto the couch, arm draped over her head. Freya finally laughed, and warm joy bloomed in Ada’s veins. I win, she thought, grinning wider when she felt Freya plop onto the couch next to her. Her head on Ada’s chest was a warm comfort as it dug into its familiar spot. She wondered if, somehow, her chest had been formed as the perfect headrest for Freya. “Maybe I would. Maybe I would leave you, and find a nicer Ada, who helps me clean and doesn’t leave the windows open” Freya smiled at her teasingly as Ada rolled her eyes. “No way, baby. I’m it. Open windows and all.” The movie reference rolled off her tongue, almost like a habit as she smiled down at Freya, wrapping an arm around her. They kissed once, twice, three times before Freya rested on her chest again, getting comfortable. “Seriously, though. What if I was?” Ada asked, her voice a little softer. Instead of looking down at Freya’s head, she studied the way the light filtered into the room through the shades of the window. How…picturesque? Warm, hazy light shining in during the main characters’ heart to heart. Definite foreshadowing. Freya’s hand on her stomach brought her back. “I would name him Rafael.” A mix of emotions bloomed inside Ada, like liquid blooming into a glass. Love, sadness, guilt - but above all, devotion. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, and she bent over slightly to kiss Freya’s temple. “Dad would hate that. He always wanted me to be original, y’know” Freya laughed, and the world stopped for a second. “Maybe you are pregnant.” Freya jokes. A tear escaped, falling right onto Freya’s cheek. Ada watched it run down before she swiped it away with her thumb, leaning down again to kiss the trail it left behind. They were silent for a moment, watching the dust flutter through the morning rays of sun. This has to be a dream, Ada thought, closing her eyes. No way I’m this lucky. “What if I did run out on you?” Freya’s voice broke the silence. It was small and contemplative as she swirled circles on Ada’s thigh absently. “Or the father, I guess. What if he did?” Ada laughed softly, rubbing Freya’s shoulder soothingly. She could practically feel the prickles of anxiety popping from the back of her neck as she lay on her chest. “Number one, I’d never leave you for some guy, Freya.” Ada started, running her hand up and down her bicep, “Sorry to say, you’re stuck with me.” Freya winced, snapping her fingers jokingly as she laughed. “Number two?” “Number two, if, and this is totally and completely impossible, but if I somehow acquired brain damage-” Freya coughed loudly and humorously, side eyeing Ada. Ada looked back, narrowing her eyes at the interjection.

“-and I decided I did want to leave you for some guy, and then get utterly destroyed emotionally by him…” Ada paused, staring at the wall and contemplating the scenario for a moment.

Goddamn, why is it so cold in this fucking compound?

Ada shivered in her bed, curled on her side in the fetal position. The thin blanket did little to help keep her heat in. The bed itself was just big enough for it to feel small, the twin size mattress spilling over the edge of the metal frame. She imagined it being lugged from an unused room, a room where the bright yellow sheets made a little more sense, design-wise. The visual of the mattress being ripped unceremoniously from its bed frame filled her head, a hazy filter covering the fine details. She watched – imagined? – it being lugged down the hallway, hastily thrown into the bland scenery of the dorm, certifiably out of place. Ada huffed out a cynical laugh, and immediately another wave of cold overtook her, sucking the air from her lungs as her teeth chattered.

The room she was holed up in was no better; it was dark and gray, bare walls adding to the depressing atmosphere. The walls were metal, the floors were metal. Even the bed frame, the doors, the singular table and chairs in the corner; all fucking metal. She’d picked it out quickly, delirious from another fight and without care. It didn’t help that her fangs had started coming in at that same time; every step Ada took made her jaw jolt, and every jolt sent lightning shooting up her face. The pain wrapped itself around her eyes, squeezed her brain stem, turned any coherent thought into a mess of curses and internal sobs. By the time the fight ended - which had been hours - she was exhausted and out of her mind with the pain. Miguel didn’t have to tell her twice when he’d mentioned she should pick a room.

Huddled under the blanket - which was more of a sheet than anything - she cursed her past self. Ada’s knees dug into her stomach, the pliable flesh giving way to her kneecaps. It was almost painful; the pressure against her organs made her mildly nauseous. The shivers didn’t help, nor did the way her spine curved uncomfortably in on itself.

The only parts of her outside of the blankets were her hands. Despite the intense chill, Ada kept her hands next to the pillow, clasped together; the blanket was tucked between her shoulder and chin, but the opening made the attempt moot. She imagined a birds-eye shot of herself: the room, devoid of belongings or decorations, its metal walls and floor only exacerbating the cold, her exhausted form beneath the blanket, each crease of her limbs visible through the fabric. Like I’m praying. Praying for what?

Praying for relief, she decided. Relief from the pain shooting through her fingertips, the pressure of points begging to push through the pads of her fingers and slice up through the tips, splitting open the edges, claws replacing fingernails, a gory display of what–

No, she thought, turning her mind away from the train of thought, I won’t think about her. Her anger warmed her slightly, and she wondered if she should continue that line, if only to build some heat under this shitty rag Miguel had given her.

A knock rang out from metal the door, the sound echoing? around the room and reverberating? in her head. Speak of the fucking devil.

“¿Qué quieres?”, she shouted out, turning her head over her shoulder towards the door. She tried very hard to growl the words out, but the attempt died on her tongue. Instead, her voice cracked, mucus lining her throat from disuse and cold. If he tells me to open that door, I’m gonna kill him.

“Open the door, Ada.” She groaned and turned her head back over, tucking her chin into her chest. She contemplated listening to Miguel for once, but the image of those claws splitting open the tips of her fingers stopped her. Ada clutched her hands together, a tiny jolt of fear running up her spine, her breath catching in her throat.

“I can’t,” she croaked.

The sound reverberated off her chest, bouncing back in her face. His silence on the other side of the door was deafening. The soft slide of the door opening was just as loud to her. Ada scrunched her eyes shut, the light of the compound’s hallway casting his shadow over her. He just stood there for a while, in her doorway, watching her back. She felt a little grateful for the blockage, the darkness he cast protecting her from the pounding headache the light was sure to give her.

Miguel finally stepped through the doorway. “Gwen dropped off some of her old clothes. I thought you would..” He trailed off, his silhouette holding up an indiscernible blob against the light. Great. Charity. Love that.

She squirmed under the sheet, tucking her elbows into her stomach to hide her hands. Miguel noticed anyways, watching the tangle of fingers disappear. After a couple more seconds of silence, Ada felt the bed shift next to her calves. “Is it your hands?” he asked softly, his hand resting on her hip. Hesitantly, she nodded, pressing them against her chest, the joint of her thumb jamming painfully against her breastbone.

“It’s…I realized if I’m touching my skin they won’t pop out,” she whispered, turning halfway to look at him, “They’re right at the surface, I can feel the points against my fingers.” Tears welled in her eyes, the fear creeping up her neck again. Miguel looked at her, nodding, almost sympathetic if she didn’t know better. He moved up the edge of the bed, shuffling her sheet as he reached over her waist.

“It’ll be okay,” he murmured, pulling her up by her forearms. She shifted back slightly, sitting up fully, her knees bents and leaning against his back. Miguel pried her fingers apart, not particularly gentle as he pulled against the tension, slowly unsticking skin from skin.

“Miguel, please, I’m scared,” she whispered, feeling like a child in his hands, “they’re not like yours, they cut through my fingertips, all the way to my nail. Pad to tip, Miguel.” He’d undone her fingers by now, but she kept them pressed together, palm against palm, each finger carefully lined up with its twin. His mouth pressed into a thin line, and his eyes shifted up to hers, in an ‘are you serious’ kind of way.

“Mija, you’ve got to just let it happen,” Miguel sighed. His tone burned her cheeks, made her feel small again. He usually did that: made her feel small, the way a dad embarrasses their child for asking for help with a project. Miguel was more of a dad to her than she’d like to admit, in all the worst ways.

She couldn't help the quiver of her voice when she spoke again, the anticipation of pain choking her. “Miguel, please. Don’t make me do this.”

He didn’t look at her when he pulled her fingers apart and he didn’t look at her when she howled, her fingertips splitting open, the skin splintering around the claw like a piece of wood with an ax down the middle.

He did rub her hands, his thumb pressing gentle circles into her palm as blood trickled down her fingers. It wasn’t enough. She cried anyways, her fingertips sending jolts of pain down her hands. She half-expected him to leave with an ‘I’ll give you a reason to cry,’ but he stayed, soothing her like it was his solemn duty. Her claws were sharp, made of bone and rage and desperation. They ached against the cold air, the edges of them blending with her nails. She visualized them breaking the skin–she had closed her eyes in the moment–like a switchblade, the joint lying just underneath her nail bed. A closeup of her skin, the bone pressing against the raised pad before slicing it open, blood spurting past the camera lens dramatically. And then Miguel’s hand against hers, thumb circling her palm, blood streaking over his tanned skin as he comforted her. There’s a metaphor there, somewhere, she thought to herself, her tears drying on her cheeks. Some pretentious director would equate this to….

She couldn’t pull it together, the train of thought flying off faster than she could chase it. Pin it.

Miguel brought her back like he usually did nowadays: with a command.

“Lay down,” he ordered, pushing her back down onto the mattress with a groan and standing up. His knees popped loudly, which earned a small smile from Ada.

“You’re so old,” she teased, re-adjusting herself and sniffling. He looked down at her blankly. The look would convince anyone else to turn tail, but she knew better; she saw the softness in his eye, the small quirk of the corner of his mouth before he turned away. He grunted and then the harsh hall light blinded her suddenly. Ada blinked and kept looking, mourning the absence of his steady indifference, but he was gone. She turned onto her side again, back to the door, still clutching her hands to her chest. Carefully, she unfurled them, inspecting the bloody tips. Already she could see the skin healing, stitching itself back together around the new extension.

Freya would love this.

The thought snuck into her mind before she could stop it and sent a pang of heartache straight through her chest. Freya had done this to her–why would she get to examine the after-effects? Hot tears welled in her eyes. Ada curled into herself again, tucking fully into the fetal position, the cold chill of the room hitting her back harshly. She cried a little, the ice seeping back into her bones, the blanket once again doing absolutely nothing to warm her.

When she looked up again, she was startled by the familiar shadow cast along her wall opposite the door. “Ice helps,” Miguel said gruffly, re-entering the room. Ada sniffed again and twisted at the waist to look up at him.

“I don’t want ice,” she started, “it’s cold enough in here. Are you trying to freeze me out?” Her quip was funny, she knew it, but he didn’t laugh. Instead he jabbed his knee in her back, prodding her with a grunt. She obliged, protesting even as she scooted herself closer to the edge. The bed gave way to Miguel, just like she did, creaking as he settled in next to her.

He wasn’t nearly as warm as Freya, but he’d do.

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmured against her hair as he wrapped his right arm under her head. Ada wondered if he was talking about more than her fingers. His left arm draped across her waist, reaching over to press her hands together with the pack of ice between them. It was oddly intimate, his chest against her back, her hands in his. A comfort. Freya was the only one to ever hold her like this, the heat bleeding into her skin and infesting her bones. This touch felt different to that. He was warm, sure. But it seemed to Ada that Miguel was seeping the warmth out of her, pulling the heat into himself and holding onto it like a vice.

“Are you sure?” she asked, almost whispering as she studied his hands. They were broad and tan, veins protruding along the back and disappearing as they met his knuckles. Spots littered them - grease scars, knife stabs, even the gentle callus of his suits sharp edges rubbing against his joints. His silence dragged on, but Ada didn’t notice, too invested in the stories she was creating for every mark on his hand.

“I promise,” he said gruffly, his voice whispering against the top of her head.

And suddenly, the bed wasn’t so small anymore.

Freya sits on the couch, blankly watching the TV in front of her. She’s only vaguely aware of what’s playing–some late night infomercial, with the way the host smiles at her, their white teeth almost as bright as the background. She huffs, blinking rapidly. Her eyes burned in the pale light shining through the darkened living room. Freya adjusts the blanket she had slung over her lap, her sweats shifting against her legs. She crosses her ankles, uncrosses them, then lifts them onto the coffee table and crosses them again. A breeze blows through the apartment, the chill making her shiver as it settles in her bones. She rubs her arms, turns away from the TV, looks at the open window to her right. Looks away. Pretends she’s not looking, her eye shifting in the socket to the side. Stares at the TV. Too bright to stare at, she rationalizes as she looks again.

The sheer white curtains blow in the night air. The fabric makes a hazy picture of the skyline outside, fluttering across the street. Freya waits and watches, bleary eyed. She rubs her arms again, then rubs her face, fingers pressing into her eyes, running through her hair, massaging her cheeks. When Freya reopens her eyes, there she is.

Ada, in all her glory, crouches silently on the windowsill. The curtains blow, unaware of the obstruction in the air. She looks almost ghostly; her white suit reflects moonlight off her back, the gold accents catching the flickering TV and shining back into the room. The suit contrasts starkly with her hair, the dark curls tucked behind her ears and curling around her neck. Freya couldn’t make out Ada’s expression – her face was hidden completely by the mask and opaque goggles. Finally, after forever, Freya moves, reaches forward, takes her feet off the coffee table, grabs the remote and mutes the TV. She looks at Ada, and Ada looks at her.

“You didn’t come out tonight,” Ada said blandly, breaking the silence. It’s more of a statement than a question as she maneuvers herself off the sill and into the living room. Her boots click against the wood flooring, the dancing heel hitting the varnish with purpose.

“I made dinner,” Freya evades. Ada doesn’t look at her, or at the kitchen as she strips off her face coverings. Freya watches silently, trying to get a read on how Ada was feeling. “It’s your favorite,” she continued, a little quieter, “The rice and chicken. The arroz.” The word falls off her tongue clumsily, the r stuttering behind her teeth. Usually, Ada would laugh at the attempt, tease her awful, awful accent, as brown as they both were. But Ada only nods in acknowledgement and sits on the edge of the couch, untying her boots.

“I followed the recipe exactly,” Freya says, a little desperate. She flings the blanket off from over her legs, poised to stand, staring at Ada’s back, waiting for a response. “Are you gonna eat?” she asks after a beat of silence. Ada sits up straight and sets the boots on the floor under the coffee table. Then she turns to Freya–finally–and shrugs, humming noncommittally. Freya watches Ada stand and pull her shirt up and over her head, mussing up her hair in the process. Quickly, she jumps up off the couch, moving towards Ada anxiously.

“Here, let me–,” Freya reaches a hand towards her bangs, and Ada flinches. Flinches. Freya blinks, pulls her hand back, holds it up stupidly. Ada’s face changes for a second, concern, fear, something else she can’t pin in her eyes, before they turn unreadable again. Slowly, Freya reaches forward again, and breathes an internal sigh of relief when Ada stays still. She runs her fingers through Ada’s curls, the pattern breaking into waves as she moves through them.

“Why didn’t you come out tonight?” Ada asks softly, her voice mixing with the wind as it blows through the apartment. Freya bites her lip, presses her forehead against Ada’s, cradles her cheek gently.

“You won’t like the answer,” Freya says, matching Ada’s tone, covering the fact that she doesn’t really have an answer. She doesn’t know why she didn’t don her suit, hadn’t gone out to support Ada like she usually did. Usually had, she realized; it had been a few weeks since she’d actually joined Ada in swinging around L.A.

Ada purses her lips, nods, pulls away from Freya’s touch. Her hand feels empty without Ada’s cheek in it, her forehead cold. “I have to shower,” Ada says, walking away from Freya and shutting the door to the bathroom. The latch clicking echoes throughout the apartment, echoes in Freya’s head. All she could do was stand there stupidly in the dim living room. She looks again at the TV, its flickering lights burning her eyes as she stares. The same infomercial was playing–a loop, it seemed–the infuriatingly sunny host smiling at her through the screen. Angrily, Freya moves to the coffee table, grabs the remote, shuts off the TV, plunges the apartment in darkness. The grandfather clock hanging above the TV chimes one, two, three times, the notes taunting Freya as she grits her teeth together.

The walls creak when Ada starts the shower. Freya stands dumbly in the dark, listens to pipes ache as water runs through them, lets her eyes adjust. Takes a breath, makes out the shape of the couch in front of her, then the edge of the sunken living room. She examines the way the wood transitions to tile in the kitchen, the hazy darkness giving way to the vague shape of a fridge, an island, a range hood, a stove with a pot of hot rice centered on top of it. She takes another breath, sucking anger into her lungs, embarrassment at the effort burning her hot. She is careful not to trip on the lowered floor, stomping towards the kitchen to put away the food. She passes the hallway on her way, looks down its foreboding maw. The light of the bathroom is not on, but the creak of the pipes persists. She grits her teeth, grinds her jaw, balls her fists, takes a deep breath and releases it all. She will not blow up on Ada; she is not her mother.

An orange flash behind her eyelids, a ping, nails on a chalkboard. The noise is short, sweet and succinct, but it digs into Freya’s head like a parasite. It strums at her nerves, pulls at the tendons that make her eye twitch, laces itself around the muscles that close her fists again. A new course for Freya, down into the abyss. The darkness swirls around her ankles. She listens.

Again, an orange flash. A screen lighting up, she realizes. The light beckons her towards the bedroom, door half open, room half illuminated. A ping again, taunting her, enticing her in. She moves, one foot in front of the other, past the bathroom, past the water closet. She pushes the door open.

There it is, undeniably futuristic. A watch, sitting so inconspicuously on the bed. The orange glow of its interface lights up half of the room, pointing towards the second bathroom door, behind which is her sweet sweet liar of a girlfriend.

The water shuts off. Freya lunges forward, grabbing the watch and holding it tightly. Proof of concept, proof that Ada can’t squirrel away. The apartment is silent. She assumes Ada is toweling off. There is no time for her to think about what she’s doing, no time to throw the watch in some dresser drawer, no time to leave this moment, to return to the kitchen and put away the food. No time at all before Ada opens the bathroom door into the hallway.

“Frig?”, she calls, innocent and oblivious. Freya pants softly, clutching the metal tighter, so tight she thinks the glass will crack under her fingers. Good. She looks down at it finally, listening to Ada pad her way down the hall to their bedroom. Comprehends the text just as Ada enters, a sentence dying on her lips.

“You promised,” is what Freya eventually chokes out, throat closing around the words. “You. promised.” Ada moves forward, Freya moves back, holds the watch defensively against her chest, looks at Ada. Her shirt barely reaches her mid thigh; She can see the goosebumps rising against her skin. Water drips haphazardly onto her shoulders, forgotten towel in hand. A decent person would let her dry her hair first, put on her moisturizer, and let her settle in for a second. Inherited anger burns away any decency she had, leaves toxic sludge in its wake, chars the door leading to her heart, lets it harden it beyond repair.

Maybe she will be like her mother, just a little bit, just for this moment.

“Frig, just..” Ada trails off, steps forward again, holds her hand out. Freya steps back and her knee hits the bed. She stumbles – almost falls, steadies herself – and holds the watch tighter.

“No, no don’t ‘Frig” me. You promised you would stop with this shit, Ada.” Freya runs a hand through her hair, hooks it on her neck, takes a deep breath. She is not her mother.

The watch pings again, glows orange in her hand. Half a second of silence passes before Ada lunges forward, grabbing for the watch. Freya shrieks and dodges, slipping past Ada as she lands on the bed, her wet hair sending droplets flying onto Freya’s cheeks. Freya stumbles back, pressing herself into the space of wall between the bathroom and bedroom door. Ada crouches on the bed, turns towards Freya, and holds her hand out.

“Freya, just…give me the watch.” Her voice is low and dangerous, the threat of violence barely concealed. Freya has only heard that tone pointed towards the people they fight; never to her. Her chest heaves underneath her hand, the metal edge of the watch stabbing into her breastbone. She looks at Ada’s outstretched hand, and at that moment, the clouds decide to part and allow moonlight to flutter into the room.

There are many windows along the wall opposite Freya—floor to ceiling glass, separated by thin sections of wall, covered in sheer white curtains. The room becomes illuminated by soft white light, revealing the details of Ada’s face. Freya takes them in, more out of habit than anything: the wrinkles in her forehead, the radioactive glow of her eyes, the fangs that poke out from her open mouth, glinting in the moonlight.

“Freya.” Ada says bringing her back to the moment. Her tone is softer, but no less authoritative – she thinks there's even a little bit of desperation deep in there. “Please.”

She hesitates, takes a deep breath, then another. Shakes her head slowly. The movement is barely noticeable, her hair moving around her shoulders and falling down her back.

“No,” she starts out quietly, her voice rising steadily, “No, you promised you would stop going back there. You looked me in the eye and swore you would stay.”

Ada settles down a little, sitting back on her heels, her hands poised on the mattress. She sighs, closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. “Freya, that’s not fair,” she whispers out.

“What’s not fair? That I expect you to hold to your word, Ada?”

“No, that you expect me to let go of the one chance I have of figuring this out!”

“Figuring what out?” Freya shouts. Her voice rises in pitch, and she takes a step forward, bolstered by her newfound confidence.

“This!” Ada shoves her hands forwards, palms to the sky, and lets her claws extend through her fingertips. They are not as long as they used to be, Freya can see that clearly. They don’t switchblade out the way they used to either – instead, they are short and hooked, skin colored instead of the white they were before. They looked…polished, to her. Modified for a more practical usage.

“You don’t know how awful it was with those fucking shanks coming out of my fingers all the time!” Ada shouted at her, shaking her hands towards Freya. Freya steps back, pressing herself into the wall again, shrinking into the corner in the face of her mistakes. “You don’t understand, Frig.”

“So help me understand then!” She steps forward gingerly and kneels next to the bed, digs her elbows into the mattress. The watch falls forgotten next to her calves. She takes Ada’s wrists, grips them tightly, like she might disappear if Freya doesn’t hold on. “Talk to me, Ada. We’re in this together,” she begs, desperate, and maybe afraid.

Ada looks down at her, softly at first. The light shines around her head, through the frizz that is setting in as her hair dries. Freya is almost inclined to touch Ada’s face, bring her down to her level and kiss her desperately, proving herself to the woman she loved. Ada leans down, her hair falling forward, the damp strands brushing against Freya’s cheeks as she looks up at her. She expects to find love, kindness, or maybe even a cold anger in those green eyes she loves, but all she gets is a blank stare.

Ada pulls her wrists out of Freya’s hands, shifts herself off the bed and stands. She doesn’t look at Freya at all as she bends down to pick up the watch. Freya grabs at her wrist again, but Ada is quicker, snatching the watch off the floor. She puts it on, clicks the latch closed around her wrist, taps away at the interface, and doesn't look at Freya.

“Ada,” she rasps out as Ada walks past her wordlessly, leaving the bedroom, “Ada,” she calls again, a little louder, no less heartbroken. She turns on her knees to face the bedroom door just as Ada exits, hears her pad her way down the wall, her bare feet almost soundless against the wood floor. Freya stands to follow, holding the door frame, watches Ada dip into the bathroom and exit with her crumpled suit.

“Ada, please, don’t go,” she begs, walking forward to follow Ada as she walks down the hall back into the main room. She can see her fiddling with the web shooters around her wrist, clicking them into place. “Adaline!” She is pathetically desperate, she hears it in her voice, sees it in Ada’s eyes when she finally faces her again, her wrist back in Freya’s hand. Ada says nothing, only wrenches her wrist away again, but not before Freya catches a glimpse of Miguel’s name on the interface of the watch. Ada moves to the open window before Freya can say anything, sticks her legs through the opening, then her torso, sits on the edge of the windowsill. The curtains blow over the glass. Freya can make out her form through the semi-transparent fabric before she is gone.

And then the tears come.

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

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

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

A/N: i love posting spiderverse fic 7 months after the movie. Don't ask me how long this took. She is 14 pages long and only part of what i've actually written.

These bitches have been rattling around in my brain for so so long....anyways enjoy k thx peace and love <3

#spiderverse #oc #writing #miguel o'hara #hiiiiii miguel #astv miguel #spiderverse oc #across the spiderverse #shoutout to balls again look at my baby #spiderverse has taken me OVER #i have no idea what im doing #is it obvious i dont know what im doing #writing worm

0 notes

miko2495 · 1 year

Text

Once upon a time, there was a prince.

The prince searched far and wide for a maiden to be his beloved bride.

Until one day, he found her in a small cottage; this maiden with hair as black as the night and eyes that shined like stars.

The Maiden's siblings glared at the Prince. They did not trust him were jealous of the Maiden's beauty.

"What a beautiful maiden." the Prince said, "Will you be my princess?"

The Maiden smiled and politely declined.

He happily announced that he and the maiden were to be wedded and ALL was welcome. Despite her protests.

Almost Everyone was happy. Except for the witch.

"I will take away what the Prince loves most." the Witch declared and cursed the Maiden into a hideous beast.

The Maiden's mother pleaded the Witch to undo the curse but the Witch refused.

"If you really wish to save your daughter." the Witch said, "Then head far to the East."

The Mother was determined and headed East.

When the Prince returned, the cottage that the Maiden lives in...

... was empty.

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

How long has it been since I did any original writing?

Anyway, here's a little something that has been in my head the whole time I had a walk.

#original writing #long post

0 notes

thetravelerwrites · 3 years

Text

Courtship of the Headless King: Chapter One

Rating: General Audiences Fandoms: 忘却の首と姫 | Boukyaku no Shirushi to Hime | The Princess and The Forgotten Head Relationship: Female Human/Male Headless King Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Political Marriage, Power Dynamic, Headless King Words: 4366

This is not my original work!

This is a fan retelling of one of my favorite mangas, Boukyaki no Shirushi to Hime, whose original mangaka sadly passed away in 2014, leaving the series unfinished. I will start at the beginning of the manga and go through the entire story that has already been written. Once I reach chapter 20, which is the end of the published chapters, I will have to start extrapolating and imagining how the story may have played out. I hope I can do the original story justice and not disgrace the original author.

I will say that I will be fixing a few things that made me uncomfortable about the original manga, in that the female protagonist was 15, which I didn't like. Otherwise I will try to stick as close to the original story as possible, though I will be arranging it so that it's a bit more linear.

I hope you enjoy!

“Blessings to you, my lady,” The visitor said, bowing deeply in greeting. “My name is Aquamarine. I am a servant of the high king of Banfarie and a chosen attendant to the future queen.”

The summons wasn’t necessarily a shock, but it was definitely a surprise. Lilya, the third princess of the former kingdom of Tritsia, had come of age during a bloody war between kingdoms to either side, and her small, impoverished land had been caught in the crossfire. Tritsia had been absorbed by the victorious kingdom to the east, Couliea, and was now a vassal state. As such, the royal family of Tritsia were now hardly more than paupers in their own kingdom.

Lilya assumed that she would no longer be eligible for the marriage interviews that were famously, or perhaps infamously, conducted five times every month in the largest empire in the continent, Banfarie. The interviews had been happening since before she had even been born, but as of yet, no queen had been selected. Or rather, no woman had accepted.

The rules for who would be chosen for the interviews was standard for most monarchs looking for a queen: a woman of royal or noble blood with proof of lineage, at least eighteen years old but no older that twenty five, no previous marriages or engagements, no children, and… well… consent.

Lilya met most of the criteria… except for one thing: she wasn’t a high born woman anymore. Her family’s royal status had ended when the kingdom was absorbed into another. Besides, even when her father had been king, they had never exactly been what anyone would consider proper royalty. Her father worked in the fields with his people, doing the same back-breaking labor as his subjects. Back then, she could hardly be called princess, but now she was nothing more than a peasant farm girl, more suited to feeding chickens and mucking out stables than attending grand balls and high teas.

So there had been quite a stir when their unusual guest came to deliver the summons. She was a woman who appeared very young in age, no more than perhaps sixteen, though she spoke as if she were a far older creature. She had a short bob haircut and a thick fringe, but it wasn’t enough to hide her pointed ears, her sharp eyes, and her upswept eyebrows, belying a nature that wasn’t human.

Her cloak was plain, but well-made and of fine cloth, likely silk or satin. She had all the hallmarks of a servant of a wealthy, prosperous nation. She had been given entrance to the house by the only servant Lilya’s family employed, Sebastian, and was standing in the receiving room with Lilya’s mother and aunt.

“I come with greetings from my Lord King, to relay a question and to present a gift to you, beloved princess.”

Lilya tilted her head. “A gift? His Majesty didn’t need to send a gift.”

Aquamarine simply chuckled and bowed. “From his Majesty, with his kindest regards.” From her cloak, she produced a velveteen box and opened it, revealing a tiara of breathtaking beauty. Sizable diamonds and sapphires lined the circlet and rose up to create a lovely sloped and winding style like that of wind on water. It was a crown that would suit any head it rested upon.

“Oh!” Lilya breathed. “It’s breathtaking!” She rushed to her mother in delight. “This is the answer to the famine on the outskirts in the south! If we sell the tiara at the biggest market in the neighboring kingdom, we could feed the farmers for months, maybe a year!”

“Lilya!” Her aunt exclaimed in horror. “How could you suggest such a thing? This was a gift from a king, for goodness sake, you can’t just sell it!”

“But, Auntie, I can’t hoard something like this when people are starving!”

“You would not wear it?” Aquamarine asked, her face shrewdly assessing. “Is it not to your liking?”

“Oh, no, that’s not it at all!” Lilya insisted earnestly. “It’s lovely, more so than anything I’ve ever seen. I’ve never worn anything so extravagant. But… truly, for me to wear it would be like putting silk ribbons on a pig. It would be far less useful as a trinket in my wardrobe and better as a tool to feed the hungry. I’m afraid that Couliea doesn’t pay much attention to our struggles, so we have to fend for ourselves. This,” Lilya gently took the box from Aquamarine and turned it so that she could see the tiara properly. “This is indeed a kingly gift. This will save lives. There is no more noble a gift as that.” She bowed her head and handed the box back gingerly. “If his Majesty would not be pleased with my conduct, I understand, but I would hope he would see the sense in my actions.”

Aquamarine laughed a little. “I do not think his Majesty will be displeased. Quite the opposite. Even still,” Aquamarine set the box down on the table and carefully pried a dangling jewel from the very center, threading it through a silver chain she had worn around her own neck, and placed it on Lilya. “His Majesty will want confirmation that his gift was received. This will suffice.”

“Then I shall wear it to the marriage interview,” Lilya said, patting it fondly.

Aquamarine’s head cocked back in surprise. “I had not even had the chance to ask you, and yet you’re agreeing to go?”

“Well, yes,” Lilya said. “That’s why you’ve come to call on me, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” Aquamarine said with a smirk. “But usually it takes much more convincing on my part. I don’t believe I’ve ever met someone so… eager.”

“At the very least, I have to thank him for his generosity,” Lilya said. “Even if he decides I’m not a good match for him, I have to express my gratitude in person.”

“You’re not scared? I’m certain you’ve heard the rumors about my Lord King.”

“Well… yes,” Lilya admitted. “I won’t lie and say I’m not apprehensive, but kindness like this can’t go unacknowledged. It’s only right that I meet with him.”

Where Aquamarine’s smile had been playful and mischievous before, it was now wide and warm. “I will happily go now and inform his Majesty of your decision. My sisters and I will return in a fortnight to collect you for your interview. You may bring a guest with you, if you wish, though I assure you that you’ll be quite safe in our care.”

“I have no doubt that’s true,” Lilya said, bowing. “Would you like some refreshments to take with you on your trip back?”

“How kind of you, dear, but that won’t be necessary,” Aquamarine said, patting Lilya’s cheek. “We shall return in two weeks. You make sure you take care now. Our Lord King would be much distressed should something happen to you in the meantime.”

Aquamarine snapped her fingers, and there was a flash of light from which everyone in the room had to shield their eyes. When they blinked, the young woman was gone.

“Witch...” Sebastian said in horror. “My Lady, you can’t meet with this monster! What kind of king employs such demons?”

“Likely someone who understands that people like them also need to earn a living, I’d imagine,” Lilya said reasonably. “Besides, I’ve already agreed and accept his gift. I can’t go back on my word.”

“I can’t believe you’d actually sell such a treasure,” Your aunt said disapprovingly. “You’re so like your father.”

She didn’t mean that in a good way. Lilya’s mother’s sister, Kiya, had always disliked her father and resented him for being too weak a king, unable to protect his people during the war. She had also resented Lilya ever since she had been born. There was worry that Sophie would not be able to carry another child at her age, and that the royal line would end as there would be no male heir to Tritsia.

The birth of Lilya’s little brother shortly before her father’s death was not enough to warm Kiya to Lilya. In fact, it seemed to drive the wedge even further, as Sophie and her brother were both terribly weak afterward and there was concern they wouldn’t survive. Kiya had gone so far as to blame Lilya, telling her that it would have been her fault if they died. As a nine year old, she couldn’t imagine what she’d have done to cause such a terrible thing, but now she understood it was just her aunt lashing out.

Perhaps it was because Lilya resembled her father the most out of all her siblings, or because she was most like him in temperament, but she doubted Kiya would ever view her favorably. She was still family, though, and Lilya tried not to take her criticism to heart, though her aunt’s cutting eyes often wore into her painfully.

“I’m doing this for our country, even if it no longer exists,” Lilya said, determinedly putting the box away in a case so that Sebastian could take it to the neighboring kingdom for appraisal. “The king has called for me. The least I can do is answer.”

“Lilya’s right, Kiya,” Lilya’s mother, Sophie, said reluctantly. “It would be improper for us to take his gift and ignore him. Though I can’t say that I’m pleased with the idea of this.” Sophie sighed unhappily. “Lilya would have been expected to marry soon as it is. I supposed we couldn’t hope for better than a king.” Sophie took her daughter’s hands in her own. “Still, I’m very worried. I should come with you.”

“No, Mama, they need you here. You’ll have to be the one to make sure that the tiara gets a fair price and oversee the distribution of the food to the needy. I’ll be fine on my own, and besides, Aquamarine said that she and her sisters were part of the Queen’s guard, and I liked her very much. I couldn’t be any safer.”

Lilya’s mother grimaced. “That doesn’t make me feel better. You have many lovely qualities, my sweet child, but being a good judge of character is not among them. All anyone needs to do is tell you a sad story for you to want to take them under your wing, regardless of their true intentions.” She smiled fondly. “You’re much like your father in that respect.”

Lilya smiled in return. “Father was not a good king,” She said sadly. “But he was a good man.”

“With that, I cannot argue,” Sophie said, but she frowned in distress. “You’re elder sisters had married before they got the summons, so I’ve never met with the king. Your father met with him only once, during a conference of kings, but he never told us anything about him other than he found him to be… striking. I think he didn’t tell us more because he want to frighten us.”

“Have you heard much about him?” Lilya asked anxiously.

“Reports are varied and hard to believe; that the king is a headless monster, thousands of years old, ten feet tall, winged and hulking, who eats the women who refused him. I’m not sure I believed any of that, but the rumors are still enough to make me trepidatious.”

Sebastian grumbled, his mustache shuddering. “It is the rumors that could be true that make me uneasy.”

“How do you mean?”

“I am an old man now,” Sebastian said. “Well into my seventies, so I remember when the interviews began sixty years ago. In all that time, and no queen of Banfarie has been chosen. It concerns me. The king himself may now be an old man.”

“Is that why he’s being turned down?” Lilya asked.

“No, young madam,” He said. “You see, even before the interviews began, Banfarie had no queen in nearly one hundred years. In fact, since that time, no new kings had been crowned, either. The king from one hundred years ago was an elusive man who few had ever met, and those who did were terrified of him. If the current king is that man’s successor, it’s certainly distressing. But if he is the same man, then he is a creature of deeply evil magic, and Lady Lilya should stay far away from him.”

“Even if he were the same man, which should be impossible, his reputation is less than ideal,” Sophie said pensively. “The house of Banfarie is known historically for it’s cruelty and harsh punishments, even of neighboring kingdoms. It instituted a law that allowed Banfarie to make judgments on the conduct of royals, indict them criminally, and even sentence retribution against them, up to and including execution. The neighboring kingdoms pushed back against this, of course, but eventually they all fell in line and wrote it into their countries’ laws. I don’t trust any man who could wield that level of power over others.”

“But think of what that level of influence could do for Tritsia!” Kiya said. “A king with that kind of power could protect us and provide for us!”

Sophie shivered. “I don’t want to know what he would want in return for that protection.”

“Well, I would think that’s be obvious,” Kiya said, looking pointedly at Lilya.

Sophie, normally a mild, even-tempered woman, grew angry. “And you’re alright with that, are you? You’re willing to sell my youngest daughter to a monster if it benefits you?”

“Sophie, don’t be sentimental,” Kiya said, folding her arms. “Political marriages are common for royalty. If we had been a stronger country, this would be completely normal, even for a third daughter.”

“We’re not royalty anymore,” Sophie said firmly.

“But we could be, that’s the point!”

“Please, don’t fight,” Lilya said, getting between the two sisters. “I’ve already made the decision. Kiya is right; if I were to marry His Majesty of Banfarie, our kingdom would then be his responsibility rather than that of Couliea. However he treats that responsibility, it can’t be worse than the wanton destruction from the war or the indifferent cruelty of Couliea. If he accepts me, even if it is only a political marriage and nothing more, it would greatly benefit us both. He would at last gain the queen he’s been searching for and our country will be protected. I will meet him. Perhaps the rumors are wrong.”

“I can only hope,” Sophie remarked grimly. After throwing an angry look at her sister, she pulled Lilya away from Kiya and spoke in an undertone. “But… is this what you really want?”

“I want my family and people safe and well above all,” Lilya said. “If this king can offer that, then I can ask for nothing more.”

“If this is what you wish,” Her mother said slowly. “Then I will respect it. But… it is not what I would wish for you.”

“I know, Mama,” Lilia said. “We don’t always get what we truly wish for. But this is as close as I can get.”

“If the king accepts you,” Lilya’s mother remarked sadly. “We may never see you again.”

“That may not be true. I would hope that his Majesty wouldn’t prevent me from seeing my family once I settle in.”

“Just be careful, my love,” Her mother said, pulling her into a hug. “Be careful.”

As promised, Aquamarine returned in a fortnight to collect Lilya to take her to the capitol of Banfarie, Rukruf. A carriage had come with them for Lilya’s comfort.

“Couldn’t you transport me like you did the day you first came?”

“I’m afraid that’s a rather disorienting way to travel for humans, My Lady,” Aquamarine said, taking Lilya’s luggage. “It would require some degree of acclamation, and I don’t think his Majesty would want you to be sick during your interview.” She lifted Lilya’s bag up with one hand. “Is this all you’re bringing with you?”

“This is all I have,” Lilya replied simply. “You admit that you’re not human?”

“I was never attempting to hide it. I’m a spirit, specifically an stone spirit, as are my sisters. There they are now.”

She jerked her head toward the carriage. There were two more women identical to Aquamarine near the carriage, one in the driver’s box and another holding open the door to the carriage. All three women had short, pale lavender colored hair and large, glittering eyes. They wore identical uniforms similar to that of an attendant, but the skirts were rather short, stopping just below the knee, giving them a freer rang of movement. Each one had a dagger hanging from their hip.

Both new sisters bowed deeply as Lilya approached.

“My lady,” They said in unison.

“Garnet,” Aquamarine said, pointing to the driver,and then to the coach-woman. “And Peridot.”

“I don’t doubt the three of you are sisters; I can’t tell you apart,” Lilya said.

“Ah, but see?” Peridot said, pointing to a white bow on the right side of her hair in the shape of a butterfly. She then pointed to Garnet, who wore a black butterfly bow on her left side, and to Aquamarine, who wore no bow at all. “Even people who know us well have trouble distinguishing us from the other, so we’ve taken to wearing these. Only his Majesty can tell us apart without them.”

“Here, my Lady,” Peridot said, swinging a beautiful, fur-lined, snow-white cloak around Lilya’s shoulders. “We’ll be going through the mountains and it’s likely to get cold. His Majesty had this made for you.”

“Oh, it’s lovely,” Lilya said, petting the soft, veltvety collar that ruffed around her neck. “I’m starting to get anxious about meeting him.”

“In a good way or a bad way?” Peridot asked ash she helped Lilya up into the carriage.

“I can’t tell,” Lilya replied, laughing nervously.

“Don’t be nervous,” Peridot said as she came in and closed the door behind her, rapping sharply on the roof before settling. “His Majesty is only a threat to humans.”

Lilya looked at Peridot in alarm.

“It was a joke,” Peridot assured her, giggling. “…mostly.”

The carriage lurched forward and Aquamarine put a hand out to steady Lilya before she fell out of her seat.

“When will we arrive?”

“Around sunset tomorrow,” Aquamarine replied. “We’ll continue on through the night rather than stop at an inn. His Majesty is eager to meet you.”

“Won’t you be tired?” Lilya asked.

“Not to worry,” Aquamarine said. “Spirits like us don’t need much sleep, only a few hours a week. We’re all rested up.”

“That’s amazing. I wish I could do that.”

“Yes, it is awfully handy,” Peridot said rather smugly. “Are you hungry? We’ve brought things for you to eat.”

The two days passed pleasantly and Lilya spent the time having long, friendly conversations with all three sisters. Lilya had never had lady friends her age, and though the women were spirits and likely far older than she was, they seemed to enjoy her company and asked her many questions.

“Oh, Lady, come and see!” Garnet said, pointing out of the window. “You can see the capitol city from this vantage!”

Delighted, Lilya looked out of the window where Garnet was pointing. “It’s huge!” She exclaimed. “I can’t even see the end of it! It must be as large as my entire country!”

“Your country is larger by about fifty miles, in fact,” Aquamarine said. “It’s the smallest country on the continent.”

“Yes, that sounds right,” She sighed. “I mean, I didn’t know that for sure, but I’m not surprised.”

“Are you sad to be from such a small country?”

“No,” She replied. “My country is beautiful and my people are good. I just wish we were better able to defend ourselves.”

“Well, you may not have that problem anymore,” Aquamarine said. “We’re nearly there.”

“Will I meet his Majesty today?”

“No, you will be tired from the trip and will rest for tonight. He will conduct your interview tomorrow after you have your breakfast. His Majesty has instructed us to see to your every comfort.”

“That’s just going to make me more anxious,” Lilya said.

“The best things are worth waiting for,” Peridot said.

That evening, they arrived at the castle, which was every bit as colossal as described. Over it was a cloud of purple, blue, and pink particles, as if it were perpetual sunset over the castle.

“What is that?”

“It’s called the Aurora,” Garnet said. “It’s a magical field that has existed over the castle for hundreds of years and is the source of the royal family’s magical power. It ascends and descends over the castle, depending on how the king feels. It’s highly reactive to his emotional state.”

“Oh, goodness,” Lilya said. “It’s rather low right now. What does that mean?”

“Hmm…” Garnet said. “I believe he may be feeling rather withdrawn.”

“I wonder why that would be,” Lilya mused.

Standing at the front steps of the castle as they pulled up were two young men in uniform, one blond and one dark haired. The blond wore glasses and seemed to be the junior of the two. They bowed as Lilya exited the carriage.

“Miss Lilya, these are the King’s personal attendants, Larima,” She gestured at the dark haired one first, and then to the blond. “And Raba. They are meeting you in place of his Majesty today.”

“Does that mean his Majesty is watching?” Lilya asked, looking up at the windows.

“Whether he is or is not,” Larima said as he straightened. “We are pleased to meet you, My Lady. Please allow us to show you to your room.”

“Yes, thank you,” Lilya replied. Curiously, she noticed as they turned that there appeared to be leaves growing out of their hair.

The sisters were following behind her at a short distance. “Are they spirits, too?” Lilya asked them in an undertone.

“Yes,” Peridot said. “They’re tree spirits. All of the staff employed at his Majesty’s main castle are not human.”

“Why?”

“His Majesty distrusts humans,” Aquamarine replied.

“But isn’t his Majesty human?” Lilya asked in confusion.

“Yes,” Peridot responded.

“And no,” Garnet said.

Lilya made a noise of uncertainty under her breath.

“Don’t worry, my Lady,” Garnet said. “You’ll understand tomorrow.”

“This is all very ominous,” Lilya said uncertainly.

“Yes!” Peridot said. “Isn’t it exciting?”

Before she could answer, she was lead to an opulent guestroom, far larger than any of the rooms in her home, filled with luxurious furniture and carefully crafted decorations.

“This can’t be my room,” Lilya said with a laugh. “What would I do with all this space?”

Raba and Larima exchanged looks. “Do you dislike it? We have a number of other rooms. You’re free to choose any one of them.”

“Oh, it’s not like that,” Lilya said hastily. “It’s beautiful, I adore it. Please, it’s not that I’m ungrateful, I just feel like… I don’t know… isn’t it wasted on me?”

The triplets sighed sadly, having become used to Lilya’s unusual behavior, but the men continued to look confused.

“You do realize that if his Majesty chooses you and you accept, you’ll be queen?” Raba asked. “This,” He gestured at the room. “Is nothing compared to the queen’s suite.”

“Oh…” Lilya replied, a little disconcerted. “This will take some getting used to.”

“I understand,” Larima said. “You’re the princess from Tritsia, correct? The smallest, poorest kingdom on the continent, now a captured vassal state of Couliea. I suppose you must not be accustomed to living so resplendently.”

“Larima!” Aquamarine hissed. “Don’t be so tactless!”

Lilya laughed a little, relieved. “No, it’s alright. I’m not used to this at all, that’s true. Will that bother his Majesty?”

Larima smiled and shook his head. “No, I shouldn’t think so. Don’t worry so much about what’s appropriate and just enjoy your time here. Come.” He lead Lilya inside and showed her two cords right next to the bed, a small blue cord and a larger red cord. “The blue cord is attached to a bell in the queen’s attendants’ quarters. If you need for anything, just ring it and one of the triplets will be here in an instant. The red one is an alarm. If you pull it, bells will go off all throughout the castle. Ring it only if it’s an emergency.”

“I understand,” Lilya said. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

Raba and Larima bowed and left, and the triplets ushered Lilya into an adjacent dining room to have dinner.

After a restless night of sleep and a breakfast she barely touched, Lilya was dressed in a lovely blue gown that complimented her hair, which was pulled back with matching ribbons. The bodice was tight but comfortable, the cut of the dress was simple but elegant, and for the first time, Lilya felt like a proper grown woman.

A knock on the door revealed Raba.

“His Majesty is ready for you and is waiting in his office,” He said.

Lilya stood and clenched her hands to stop them from shaking and followed Raba out of her quarters with Garnet and Aquamarine following behind her.

“Don’t worry, my Lady,” Garnet said. “I think the king will like you very much.”

“You do?”

“Oh yes,” Aquamarine replied. “We’re more concerned whether or not you’ll like him.”

“Why wouldn’t I like him?” She asked.

“Well…” Garnet began regretfully, but then stopped.

“Here we are,” Raba said, gesturing to a set of large double doors. “One moment please.” Raba knocked on the door. “Your Majesty, I have retrieved Lady Lilya for her interview. Are you ready?”

There was silence, though Raba tilted his head as if he were listening.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Raba opened one of the doors and stood aside. “You may enter.”

Gulping, checking that the pendant was in place, and taking a deep breath, Lilya stepped inside.

There, standing rail-straight behind a desk, was a tall, thin man wearing elaborate garments in keeping with his status as a king and emperor, as well as a sash and badges of his station. Almost immediately, one of the many rumors about the king was confirmed with Lilya’s own eyes.

His Imperial Majesty, the king of Banfarie, had no head.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider becoming a Patron or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Boukyaki no Shirushi to Hime #The Princess and the Forgotten Head #Manga #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Manga Fanfic #Manga Fanfiction #Exophilia #Headless King

96 notes · View notes

roc-writes · 3 years

Text

Blooming Ventus

I only started playing Genshin Impact this week but I HAVE FEELINGS and I WILL share them. In fan-fiction form B)

------

Pairing (If you squint): Venti x Traveler Warnings: It’s a tad bit melancholic but the ending isn’t!

------

"Dandelion, Dandelion, ride the wind to a faraway land," The story began, as it always did, and the memories of your favorite story flooded back once you turned the page. It was evening in Windrise, underneath the titanic oak tree the people of Mondstadt associated The Falcon of the East with. Its broad leaves had become something of a comfort for you whenever your travels brought you back to your first home, where you had awoken in Teyvat. You paused from rereading the anthology clutched in your hands to laugh. No, calling Mondstadt your first home would be doing it a great injustice. It has, and always will be, your only home. It sounded ironic, calling this place your home when Barbatos himself declared this the city of freedom and never remained so rooted to one spot, one home. Or that’s how you saw it, anyway. You called this your home, but it and your entire life remained a constant and forever.

What would he think, you wondered to yourself. Actually, he would have just teased you, the answer was clear as the stars above Teyvat. Barbatos… Venti seemed to have no greater pleasure in this world than popping as many of your veins as possible in a single sitting. You loved that though. No matter how turned around the Anemo Archon made you, how many jabs and jokes were played at your expense, they always seemed so soft and playful. He would sound of the softest wind-chimes whenever he laughed and you could never stay upset. And if you had the right mind to jab back at him his laughter only grew before both of you ended up in a fit of laughter. It reminded you of your sibling that still evades you no matter how far and wide you search for them. That is why you were here, underneath the tree and down on your luck. Zhongli may be a retired Archon, but even he couldn’t make the search instant and you understood that. His connections asked you to wait for more information, and thus you found yourself back in Windrise with a copy of your favorite book at your side.

“The Fox in the Dandelion Sea? How odd, I never considered that your type of read.” Lisa murmured one day while she approached your table with two plates of food. It was return day for the books lent out of the library, and she somehow always managed to rope you into tagging along. It was her turn to pay and you had taken to reading your book in the time you were apart. The witch eyed the leather binding, worn in places along the spine where you rested your palm against, but the foiled pages within were kept in immaculate condition. “But I can tell it is very beloved. That’s so hard to find these days.” You finally snapped yourself out of the passage you were reading to eye a beaming Lisa.

“Ah… about that, interesting story…” You trailed off, feeling a heat rise to your cheeks as your fingers drew anxious circles into the leather. Lisa immediately cooed and plopped down onto her chair beside you. There was no way out of this now. “It was a gift. Or, almost. A friend of mine showed me around the city one night. He kept raving about how he thought of me when recalling this story, but it just made me angry at first.” Lisa quirked her head to one side, almost frowning.

“Oh?”

“I skimmed the last book before reading the first ten. The ending left a sour taste in my mouth.” There was a resigned sound coming from your friend and you shook your head quickly. “I gave it a shot, nonetheless. And it changed everything entirely for me. The story is beautiful, and bittersweet. It’s hard for two worlds to collide, I mean just look at me. Mondstadt is what I know and love, no matter how much I travel it feels… strange to be away from home.”

You smiled softly as you came back to the present. Visiting past memories that are full of happiness and friendship is what you did most days. Everyone has a life, people they care about, and your life was pulled from normalcy, thrown off course, and shattered all your preconceptions. When you were with friends, that truth was easy to hide. When everyone was off with their responsibilities, the truth came crashing down onto you. And you felt much too imposing to ask to tag along. You sighed softly, looking at the spaces in between each leaf that hung above you as they rustled in the breeze. At least the wind was always there for you. Closing your eyes, you nearly fell asleep underneath the massive oak, but that was nothing new. You spent more time here than your own room offered to you by the Knights of Favonius during your stay.

“…?” You opened your eyes as something distinctly sounded like a voice with no words, finding a small wind sprite directly above you. You had spent many nights under this tree, but never have you seen this one. You offered a small smile.

“Hello there, I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.” You spoke softly. The sprite floated upside-down, watching you with two small pinpricks of eyes. Something about the carefree floating spirit just made you laugh softly. “But it is lovely to meet you.” Satisfied, the sprite flitted down to sit on the book at your lap. “Ah! You’re wondering what I’m reading? It’s my favorite book, The Fox in the Dandelion Sea.” To clear the way for you, the sprite switched positions to rest atop your shoulder. It tilted its head just a bit and you were reminded of Lisa in that gesture.

“You want me to read to you? I…” A moment of pause came from you and you swallowed thickly. “I… I can’t. I’m sorry. The only person I’ve read to before, you see, showed this to me in the first place. And the night before I left to travel across Teyvat, I read the first chapter aloud…” Unable to control the sudden pain you felt in your chest and eyes, you clutched the fabric of your clothes and stop thinking about the book’s history. “I never saw them again and… I’m afraid someone else will leave if I dare utter another word aloud.” The first droplets of tears collided onto the parchment and you quickly closed the book shut before your unplanned show of Hydro could damage anything. The sprite’s little feathers drooped at those words, eyes looking down. The wind that had been quiet shook awake once again, lifting the droplets of tears into the air. You inhaled deeply.

“The wind amongst the branches feels good, I love the way it smells… That’s what we say when we’re down on our luck, right?” You spoke to the wind, wondering if it would carry those tears to Venti in some poetic manner. You wanted both for it to happen and not. Clutching the book close to your chest, you pulled your knees up to lean against. “I miss you so much Venti… Had I been born a fox, I could transform into a dandelion and float to you. I just want to see you.” The ground you were staring at stopped shifting, the wind had stopped. And then it suddenly blew harder than it had ever before. You could hear it howling against your eardrums, deafening, frigid, and powerful. You had closed your eyes, hugging your precious book close, the only physical memory you had of Venti. You could handle the sorrow of the universe, but not the possibility of losing him.

It was then that something squeezed your shoulders, urging you to open your eyes. Bright cerulean ones blinked back at you, braids that ended in an ombre blue dancing wildly around them. Your eyes welled up in more tears.

Venti.

#Genshin Impact #venti #venti x reader #kind of?#I love this short little man #I'm gonna cry now that I have to wait for his banner though #Also I love The Fox in the Dandelion Sea #It's so cute and bittersweet #roc writes

48 notes · View notes

dragons-bones · 4 years

Text

FFXIV: A Rising Chorus

A/N: \o/ It’s done! Been working on this off and on since Balmung finished its Firmament, and I’m so happy I finally get to share it.

RATING: G WORD COUNT: 3032 WARNINGS: Spoilers for the final Ishgard Restoration quest line that begins with “Not By Bread Alone;” tooth-rotting fluff. Crossposted to AO3!

After months of hard work by Ishgardians and outsiders alike, the Firmament lies finished: the last of its homes ready to welcome the indigent of the Brume; its new businesses awaiting eager customers; and the warmth of Snowsoak prepared to soothe the aches and pains of its residents.

They’ve already had one impromptu party...time for an encore!

---

Hoarfrost Hall cast a long shadow over the Firmament as the sun set, the welkin overhead shading from gold to rose to inky blue with the first of the stars beginning to twinkle into existence far to the east. The image of the Hall’s belltower crept down the Abacus, ever closer to the crowd gathering at the far end of Saint Roelle’s Dais, but the growing gloom was offset by the work of the lamplighters, steadily making their way from Featherfall to the New Nest and Eastern Risensong, and the warm glow of candles and hearthfires spilling from the windows of newly-occupied homes. A low susurrus of noise echoed from the Dais as the assembly talked amongst themselves, the sound broken by the occasional bright peal of laughter or the strident twang of a violin being forced back into tune.

Synnove leaned on the railing overlooking the Dais, chin propped in her hand as she watched the Risensong Players warm up for their encore concert. The piano wasn’t Rereha’s usual choice of instrument—she was fonder of violin and lute and harp—but she had cracked her knuckles and thrown herself into that first practice before the first concert with relish, pulling a swirling song from the instrument even as she had complained about being horrifically rusty, the show-off. And better Rere than herself.

She shuddered. Just because she could hear aether as music did not mean that she had any talent or inclination for the art. And wouldn’t that have been the omen, a Warrior of Light and participating skybuilder mucking up the Firmament’s celebratory concert?

At least Rere could say she had participated during the Restoration; her creative talents lay strictly with music and storytelling, but she could plane wood into lumber.

She caught the sound of footsteps coming up behind her, and Synnove turned around in curiosity—and smiled. “Fancy meeting you here,” she drawled.

Aymeric, dressed down in simple leathers, laughed softly as he came to stand beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Synnove pushed herself to her tiptoes to kiss his cheek—he beamed at her, as pleased as any knight when their love bestowed their favor—while he said, “I hope this time I’m not too late!”

“Just in time, my love,” she said fondly, leaning into him. “They’re finishing warm ups, by the sound of it.”

Her knight pressed a kiss into her hair, causing her to beam in turn, and they settled into comfortable silence, looking out to the Dais as a similar hush fell on the crowd. Synnove could vaguely see familiar forms in the press of people, even at this distance: Uncle Edmont with Artoirel (no doubt still wearing that expression of bewildered delight at having his own composition as the showcase of these concerts) and Honoroit; the Haillenarte siblings clustered close to where Francel sat at his piano, radiating pride so fiercely they nearly flavored the aether of the Firmament with it; Heron, off to the side so she wouldn’t block anyone’s view, Amandina and Roksana perched on either shoulder and Arvide with his jaunty beret beside her. Alakhai lurked among a group of Forgotten Knight staff and regulars and Tailfeather hunters at the back of the crowd, and not far from there, Lucia successfully snuck up on Hilda and her Hounds.

(Nobles, commoners, outsiders, even a few of the dragonets who perched on streetlamps and statues. The sight of so many disparate peoples coming together set a warmth in her chest.)

Even this far from the Risensong Players, anticipation made the air nearly hum, no less potent than it had been for the noon show, and Synnove drew in an expectant breath along with Aymeric beside her as the Players raised their instruments or bows to the ready. And then—

—the first notes from Rereha and Francel’s pianos rang out, and their fellows—Handeloup and Emmanellain still on flute, Elaisse and Lizbeth still on violin, and Potkin and Augebert still on cello—joined the symphony.

For all that she didn’t consider herself musical, Synnove found herself humming along, and both felt and heard Aymeric do so, too. She recognized some of the melody Artoirel had used as part of a popular Halonic hymn, but rather than the martial or dirge-like tones of the versions she had heard when she had first come to Ishgard, it had been transformed into something happy and brilliant and celebratory and hopeful. The Firmament was practically giddy with the music, its ambient aether overwhelmed…or perhaps it was harmonizing instead.

Aymeric drew away from her, and she twisted around to look at him in surprise that quickly morphed into delight when he bowed and held out his hand to her, smiling fit to burst all the while. “May I have this dance, my lady?”

Synnove took his hand with a grin and replied, “My lord, it would be my honor.”

He pulled her close, his other arm going around her waist as she brought her other hand to his shoulder, and he dropped a kiss on her nose. As she giggled, he twirled them around, turning her giggles into breathless laughter. They made up the steps as they went along, an awful mix of a minuet and a rigaudon, nearly tripping over their own feet, Synnove’s laughter becoming inelegant snorting cackles and Aymeric snickering into her hair. Over the sounds of their mirth, Synnove could hear the crowd clapping along with the music, and out of the corner of her eye she spotted the movement of other spontaneous dancers.

Aymeric and Synnove collided to a halt as the song ended with a final flourish and the crowd cheered, pressing their foreheads together as they tried to catch their breath between residual giggles. The air between was white from their panting, and she was about to suggest they go to try one of the new food and drink stalls in Featherfall for something hot when the cheery twang of a fiddle rang out across the Dais.

They turned their heads, and even from here they could both see Rereha had abandoned the white piano in favor of her beloved violin, and her bow whipped across the strings to begin a popular reel that was quickly picked up by the other Players, flutes and cellos and piano. Another raucous cheer went up from the crowd, and without prompting, they began to clear a large, open area where lines of dancers quickly formed of both Ishgardians and skybuilders; couples like Lucia and Hilda were hand-in-hand, and friends and family dragged loved ones into the merry scrum. The hulking form of Marcelloix, shaking his head and hunching his shoulders, was easy to pick out, and though the person leading him determinedly through the crowd to the lines couldn’t be seen, there was no doubt in Synnove’s mind that it was Audaine. Those that weren’t lining up to dance instead clapped in time, and in a few more beats, the dancers had begun to dip and spin and whirl about one another in a fast-paced cotillion.

“Turning it into a proper party, this time,” Synnove laughed softly. “Shall we join them?”

Aymeric kissed her temple. “In a little while,” he said. “I’d like to have you to myself for a bit; I’ve barely seen hide nor hair of you in the past sennights.”

“That likely could have been mitigated if a certain someone hadn’t been holed up in parliamentary meetings for whole days at a time…”

“Now that, my love,” he said as they began to dance again in a proper waltz, turning up his nose in faux affront, “is unkind and unjust.”

“But not untrue!”

Their teasing continued as they danced, stepping lightly as the laughter of the crowd and the joy of the music echoed from the Dais. They were coming to the end of the song and slowly twirling towards the Abacus to head to the Dais proper, when—

[Oh! Oh! Is that dancing?!]

The pair glanced up in surprise at the voice that rang out, just in time to see Ehll Tou swoop out of the lamp-studded gloom to gracefully backwing and land a few fulms away. Hautdilong, in a boy-sized fleece-lined leather jacket popular with airship pilots, slid off her back and pushed his flying goggles up to the top of his head, blinking rapidly against the light. His dragon friend, meanwhile, dashed over to the railing, placing her dexterous front hands on the stone and leaning forward with an excited, gravelly trill.

“Oh, goodness,” Hautdilong said, looking out at Saint Roelle’s Dais with wide eyes. “What did we miss? Ehll Tou and I were visiting Gullinbursti and the moogles at Bahrr Lehs the past few days.”

“We finished the Skybuilders’ Monument,” Synnove said, grinning down at the boy when he looked up at her, mouth dropping open. She fought the urge to burst out laughing when Hautdilong’s gaze slid from her to the man next to her and he registered just with whom she had been dancing, and saw Aymeric give a brief half-bow to the lad in acknowledgement. “To make a long story short, a few of the residents wanted to put together a thank you for Francel for his work in overseeing the restoration, and put together a music troupe that performed for the first time earlier today. This,” she gestured at the reforming lines of dancers and the swelling crowd as the Risensong Players began a new song, “is the encore!”

“That explains why I saw Lord Tarresson begin to pack for a trip just as we left this morning!” Hautdilong said. “Someone must have sent him word; he had been speaking to us of how excited he was to see the Firmament finished.”

Ehll Tou suddenly barreled over in the manner of a dragon who sometimes forgot she was much bigger than she used to be, skidding to a halt before she could topple into her two-legged friends. [I want to learn to dance like a child of man!] she said, hopping from foot to foot and wearing her wide, excited smile. [Will you teach me? Please?]

Synnove blinked, momentarily stunned, but it was Aymeric who recovered first. “It would be our honor, Sky Lady,” he said warmly. “Perhaps one of the circle dances to start?”

[I have no idea what that is,] Ehll Tou said, her smile still in place. [But it sounds like fun, so yes!]

“You’ll have to teach me, too, lover-boy,” Synnove teased good-naturedly, poking him in the arm. “You, Hersande, and Baptistaux taught me quadrilles and other court dances, but none of the properly fun ones.”

“Then we will correct that deficiency posthaste,” he said cheerfully. “In fact... Master Hautdilong?”

The boy whipped his head around to Aymeric. “Ah, yes, Lord Speak—er, Ser—” The poor thing had the look of the suddenly nervous and overwhelmed.

“Just ‘Aymeric,’ is fine, especially among friends,” her knight said with a broad wink. Hautdilong slowly smiled back, while Aymeric continued: “Would you happen to be familiar at all with Coerthan circle dances? Particularly the ones from Eastern Coerthas like the branle?”

“I am!” Hautdilong said. “My mother is from the Eastern Lowlands and I was fortunate to travel with her to her home village for the spring planting festivals before the Calamity.”

“My own mama was from the Eastern Highlands,” Aymeric said. “And there’s just enough similarity in some of the town traditions that I believe we’ll manage to teach the ladies well enough. And perhaps some of our other friends, too?”

At that last, he raised his voice, calling out in the shadows, and a with a whoop, a gaggle of children came pelting up the Abacus and rounded the corner to their overlook. Synnove recognized Maelie, Noalle, and some of the Rolanberry Fields children—Lycelle, Peyraquile, and Julchiezain at the forefront—among the group, and following them were a handful of the shier dragonets whose names she had yet to learn. She had been so intent on Aymeric and the music and their mutual joy that she had completely missed the audience they had acquired.

Hautdilong was beaming and, without prompting, began organizing the group of Ishgardian and Dravanian children into a proper circle, with Ehll Tou and her cousins obediently tucking their wings close to avoid knocking other dancers off balance at his suggestion. Synnove dutifully allowed herself to herded elsewhere, exchanging a grin with Aymeric as she was shuffled into the circle between a blue dragonet on her left, who stood on tippy toe to ensure she could properly reach, and Julchiezain on her right. Synnove took a moment to ruffle Julchiezain’s hair—the boy tried to duck around Maelie on his own right to get away from it, but Maelie deftly dodged in turn and shoved him back into his spot and Synnove’s reach with a giggle—before her attention was drawn to the little dragonet tugging at the bottom hem of her vest.

“Hello, little one,” Synnove said, bending down so her face was at level with the dragonet’s. “What can I do for you?”

[My name is Ahm Sorn,] she said shyly, and Synnove melted only a little bit at the sweet, fluting notes of her mental voice. [May we teach this dance to the moogles and our other friends when we return home?]

“You absolutely may!” Synnove said with a smile. “Dances like this are the kind to be shared.”

Little Ahm Sorn made a small, purring little burble in the back of her throat. Synnove’s heart skipped a beat, but she absolutely did not gurgle and try to yank the dragonet into a cuddle. Aymeric shot Synnove a warning look anyway, which she ignored with only a slight pout as she stood up straight once more. She wasn’t actually going to forcibly adopt every sweet little dragonet that crossed her path!

(…She would ask Ehll Tou later who Ahm Sorn’s dam was, and if her dam would like an occasional minder for her daughter.)

Finally, once everyone was settled and hands and paws firmly linked, they all turned to Aymeric expectantly. He smiled at them all and said, “All right, the first set of movements goes like so…”

The next handful of bells were spent stumbling, tripping, and laughing their way through multiple circle dances, most of them Coerthan, until Aymeric made a sly, off-hand comment about Gyr Abanian dances that had the group of children clamoring for Synnove to teach them what she knew. Then Ehll Tou took lead to show them a grounded version of the fluttering, hopping dances that the moogles and dragons of Bahrr Lehs performed, and finally, as children always did, they took turns in making up new dances from what they had learned, until their laughter nearly drowned out the music soaring out from the edge of the Dais.

But all good things came to an end, and eventually the children began to droop with exhaustion and the party wound down. They fit in one last circle dance—a bit too slow for the song the Players were performing to end the encore show, but easier on tired feet wanting to shuffle rather than skip—and finished to the applause of parents and guardians come to take their charges home. They dispersed to all corners of the Firmaments, though most headed south into the New Nest; Noalle passed out almost as soon as her father picked her up, her cheek pillowed on his scaly green shoulder, and Marcelloix and Audaine fell into easy conversation with Rasequin, Gontrandoix, and Pehainel for the trek home while Lycelle, Julchiezain, and Peyraquile helped herd their fellow orphans along, with the older children each carrying one of the smaller ones piggyback. Ehll Tou crouched down to help Hautdilong onto her back, and they—and Ahm Sorn and the other dragonets—waved goodbye before winging off into the night for the sanctuary of Ehll Tou’s workshop roost.

Synnove and Aymeric collected the twins from Heron, off to the Forgotten Knight with Alakhai, and they meandered arm-in-arm up Quill’s Trace while Roksana and Amandina dozed in the crook of Synnove’s opposite arm. When they reached Bright Ballad’s Passage, without saying anything, they simultaneously turned to look out over the Firmament.

The district glowed with golden light, a mirror to the river of stars spangling the black velvet of the sky above. The soft blue glimmer of the new aetheryte system provided spots of color among the shadows, and the faint shapes of people passing in front of windows could be spotted in the houses closest to the Passage. And even with midnight nearing, the Mendicant’s Court still bustled with the night owls of the skybuilder corps, hard at work crafting goods for the residents of the Firmament or lifting off in manacutters from the Skysteel Workshop for the Diadem.

Sighing quietly, a sense of pride and satisfaction settling in her chest, Synnove leaned her head against Aymeric’s shoulder. Her knight kissed the top of her head before resting his cheek on her hair, moving his arm to wrap around her waist and squeeze tightly.

“Even seeing it,” Aymeric said, voice hushed and reverent, “it’s difficult to believe the work is finished. The repairs to the Brume and Foundation are still ongoing, of course, but knowing so many of my countrymen no longer need to worry about where to sleep at night…”

“It’s difficult to fathom the hopes for one’s home coming to fruition within your own lifetime,” Synnove replied, leaning into him. “I never thought I’d see Ala Mhigo free. I never thought a cure for tempering would be found. But here we are: griffon flags fly in Ala Mhigo; capture by a primal is no longer a death sentence; and Ishgard stands at peace and ready to do whatever is necessary to take care of her people.”

Her knight sighed, as satisfied sounding as she felt. “Our star is far from perfect, and its people less so,” he said. “But by Halone, it’s wonderful to see them try, and succeed.”

Synnove hummed her agreement and together, they turned, the Firmament at their backs, and wandered home.

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #ishgard restoration #ishgardian restoration #oc: synnove greywolfe #aymeric de borel #aymeric x wol #aymeric x synnove #ehll tou #hautdilong #dt's writing #IT DONE

71 notes · View notes

nottheleavesarecinders · 4 years

Text

ACOFS Prythian Map Appreciation Post

So, the fandom is in a bit of an unrest right now, so I’ve decided to offer you the best distraction I could think of: an appreciation of the Prythian map that came inside ACOSF, since it is absolutely GORGEOUS and I don’t feel like we talk about it enough!

One thing I’ve always loved about the ACOTAR maps it’s the fact that every single book there are new details included in them, either due to an stylistic choice or to portray new locations that become relevant in the book. With time, more and more things have been popping up, leaving us with the work of art that is the ACOSF map.

For those of you that may have not seen it yet, this is the map! Look how pretty it is!

I’m going to leave my fangirling after a read more because this will be very long!

So, first things first: obviously you can see Hybern, Prythian and The Continent, with the Mortal Lands and Fae Realms portrayed where they are. There are a ton of little details added to them, mostly portraying different locations, so let’s look at them more closely!

First there is Hybern. As you can see, there is a little crown and a castle drawn in it! The crown probably symbolizes the fact that Hybern is ruled by a King instead of High Lords, so it’s a way to show the influence of royalty in that land. The castle signals... yeah, the castle we went to in ACOMAF. I don´t really think its location it’s accurate, since as fas as I remember we weren’t really told were it was... but to be honest, it being near the shoreline DOES sound familiar, so probably it is a good approximation of its real location. Also, let’s take in how many mountains there are, it gives Hybern a very wild feeling that I think fits it REALLY well!

Now, let’s switch to Prythian! As you can see, The Wall is clearly signaled with a thick, black line, but my favourites are the borders between the Courts (divided by The Middle, with the Seasonal Courts below it and the Solar Courts above)- shown as thorny branches, which really portray the feeling of nature that suits the Fae so much. There is one interesting detail, though: the only missing border is the one between the Day and Night Courts. Maybe it’s because they are already divided by a mountain range? Hmmm I wonder...

So, I’ll talk first about the Mortal Lands and the Seasonal Courts, then about The Middle and Solar Courts!

The Mortal Lands don’t have a lot of detail in them, but you can see a tiny drawing of Feyre’s village under The Wall! It’s obviously not in scale, but I love the level of detail you can find in it- specially the tiny tower that seems to belong to a church! It really gives the “kinda-medieval-village” vibes Sarah seemed to want to portray in ACOTAR, and that little tower just makes it perfect!

Then you have the Seasonal Courts!

First there is the Spring Court. There is one detail I personally find REALLY interesting about it, and that’s the fact that the Manor doesn’t appear- in fact it hasn’t shown up in any of the maps we have seen so far. You would think that such an important location would be shown, at least with a little skecht like Hybern’s Castle... but no, it’s missing. I wonder why... One of it’s features that has appeared since the beginning is its eastern river, which hasn’t appeared in the books so far. I wonder if it’s going to become relevant at some point or if it’s rather an stylistic choice. It seems there is a river in the UK near the same place, so maybe it’s simply based on it.

Next up it’s the Autumn Court! My favourite! Yay! There is something I absolutely LOVE about how it appears in this map, and thats the fact that it has the most amount of forests by FAR, which I think really fits it. Another detail I find charming is how we can see the Forest House and then a drawing of some kind of big cottage or almost farm house representing it. Knowing what we know about the people in the Autumn Court, I’m pretty sure they would resent seeing their home shows as just a “simple” building. There is something else than I like, and thats the fact that, except from the mountains in the north that separates it from the Winter Court and all the forests, the rest of the terrain is flat, which makes sense knowing that they have lots of fields. I simply love this Court.

Now let’s focus on the Summer Court. This one doesn’t have tiny drawings of castles either, but you can see Adriata and one arrow showing us where it would be. As you can see, its placed next to a river’s delta, which makes a lot of sense taking into account the huge ammount of emphasys the Summer Court has in ships and sailing, it’s natural that its capital is not only in the shoreline (as we saw in ACOMAF), but also near a river they could travel in too. I also love how you can see a spatter of forests in the east and some mountains near Adriata and in the North, but the rest of the terrain is flat. I feel like it has a very summery vibe, clear but also with a little bit of everything else.

Lastly, the Winter Court. This is the Seasonal Court we know the least from, at least when dealing with geograhy. The only thing we have learned is that Viviane held a small city during Amarantha’s Reign, which sadly doesn’t appear in the map, not even with a small drawing. What we can see it’s really close to canon, tho. We know that there is a mountain range between the Winter and Autumn Courts, which it is indeed shown in the map. On its north side there is The Middle, which means mountains as well, and there are also represented here. The rest of the Court seems to be flat, which again makes sense, taking into account the short description we get from Feyre in ACOWAR, when she’s running away with Lucien from Eris and his brothers. The idea of flat, icy fields and lakes surrounded by snow capped mountains REALLY fits winter, so I really like how this map transmits it!

Now, this is probably my favourite detail about the Courts: all of them have symbols drawn in them that symbolize their nature! In the case of the Seasonal Courts, they are flowers! They used to appear in random spots inside their territories, but this map has moved them so they frame the Court’s names! Please, feel free to correct me if I mess up with any of the flowers, but in this map I think they are: lavender for Spring, oak leaves and acorns for Autumn, magnolias for Summer and Holly for Winter!

Let’s go North now. The Middle and the Solar Courts: Dawn, Day and Night.

In The Middle you can see Under the Mountain and the Weaver’s Cottage (I just noticed I cut the name out Oooops). The Mountain is suitably big- there is no way you can mistake it for a normal mountain. I also love how much sharper it seems compared to the others near it. The Weaver’s Cottage is... a cottage. I would have liked to see the forest surrounding it and the Bog of Oorid, though. Maybe they’ll show up in the next book?

The Dawn Court. We get another tiny drawing: a castle (signaled by its own arrow) which looks suspicioulsly medieval-looking (it even has a tiny flag on top, which is unbelievably cute). I wich it were a little more stilized though, since it doesn’t fit at all the image I had of the Dawn Court Palace in my mind. I mean, Feyre was almost jelaous of the decoration, there is some fancy stuff in there. Appart from that, there are a bit of trees and several mountains. It’s likely that the entire territory is mountanous, but we cannot see that because they need a blank space so we can see the court’s name, same thing with the Day and Night Courts. Mountains everywhere seems to be a theme in the Solar Courts. It looks very similar to the Day Court, which i guess makes sense, taking into account that they are sibling courts. The Night Court does look different but... I mean, we already knew that.

The Day Court! Again, no drawings and no cities and no nothing, which makes sense because that’s the exact ammount we know about this Court, since it’s the only one none of the POV characters have been in. I cannot wait to travel there in a future book, Helion is the best and it’s pretty sad there are no noteworthy features in its map. If in the next book there isn’t at least a tiny pegasus drawn somewhere I’ll riot.

Then the Night Court. Of course, since it is the court version of the Main Character, it is the one with the biggest ammount of stuff in it... except for Ramiel, or a mountain in The Prison. I’m still salty about this, I would have LOVED to see Ramiel portrayed as a huge mountain, with a slender monolith on top and three starts crowning it. This would represent the Night Court perfectly as well, and I’m sure it would have looked GORGEOUS. And I’m noy going to lie, I would have also enjoyed having the three sacred mountains protrayed at the same time, mainly to draw lines between them and feel like a investigator. Anyways, what we DO have is the Court of Nightmares, Velaris and The Prison. I think there are no drawings of castles or houses here because they wouldn’t really fit, but I do appreciate that you can see that Velaris is near the sea- and quite away from the Court of Nigthmares. It would have been lovely to see the Sidra and the location of the Cabin as well, but I guess there are just so many locations in the Night Court that it’s impossible to fit all of them.

This Courts also have their own symbols next to their names! A sun peaking out for Dawn, a full sun for Day and a bunch of stars for Night!

Nooow to finish off the locations, let’s go to the Continent! Compared with all the info we know about Prythian, they show very little. We can see Scythia in the Mortal Lands, the home of Vassa. Then, in the Fae Realms the territories of Montesere and Vallahan are clearly marked (with simple lines, not thorns like the Courts in Prythian. I approve, since there is no denying Montesere and Vallahan cannot compete with our beloved Courts in seer amount of DramaTM, so it’s a fitting choice). Then Rask is also shown offmap with an arrow. To recap (I had to look this up because my knowledge of this territories is shaky at best): Montesere is one of the territories that allied themselves with Hybern with the goal to defeat Phythian. There is nothing else noteworthy about it for now. Vallahan was also part of this alliance, and it’s the place where Ianthe was born and run away from. This is also the country Mor spends a huge ammount of time in during ACOSF. Rask also allied itself with Hybern... and I think we know nothing else about it.

What IS interesting about this map is that it shows what I think it would be fair to agree it’s Koschei’s Castle. There is a huge lake in the middle of that mountainous-and-forestal formation (which I think looks eerily like South America, which I’m sure you cannot unsee now), and on top of that the drawing of a tall, narrow castle. How cool is this??? I think it was featured in the ACOWAR map as well, which I LOVED. This only seems to further confirm the importance of this place in future books, and I honestly cannot wait to see more of Koschei and this continent.

I also need a map with all the Mortal Queens’ territories asap, I would LOVE to see their borders!

Now, to put an end to this Map Appreciation post, I want to point out some details that I think really complete it, are very fitting and also absolutely gorgeous.

The first one it that over Hybern you can see a very simple compass Rose (it shows only the north), but in this map it is The Cauldron! It’s tilted and pouring water, so at first it looks like something melting inside a circle, but when you pay attention to it it’s clear that it represents the Cauldron, maybe in a moment of creation! I LOVED this detail, it’s so perfect!

Also, now that I,ve brought your attention to this image: on the left there is a column, and on it you can see symbols of the Summer and Spring Courts, represented with a wave and a rose and shining oh so bright. In fact, every single Court appears in the map like this! I also love how they are surrounded by roses, it’s SO beautiful!

This is the other side of the map, where you can see the Autumn (acorns) and winter (snowflake) courts. Again, with the roses running up the column and the light rays around it. UGH SO GOOD.

But my favourites are the Solar Courts, which appear in the center of the map and let me tell you, I almost feel like using this as a screensaver because it’s sooo beautiful.

You have the Sun (Day court) shining bright in the middle, with its rays influencing the entire map, another Sun rising from clouds (dawn court) at the bottom, and it looks just so soft and ethereal, and lastly the Moon (night court) at the top, surrounded by stars, which you can see at the top of the entire map. I seriously love how this combination looks, it’s just so beautifu!

So, that’s all I have to say about this map! I hope you discovered details you may have not seen before, and if you have noticed something that I haven’t ttalked about PLEASE let me know, I would absolutely love to hear about it! I hope you enjoyed the Post!

#acosf #acosf spoilers #acotar #autumn court #night court #summer court #winter court #map #rhysand

38 notes · View notes

write-a-bad-romance · 4 years

Text

Two Hares Running Side by Side [Part I]

Characters: Jean d’Arc, Napoleon Bonaparte, Sebastian, Comte de Saint-Germain, minor characters adapted from historical figures

Pairings: Napoleon x MC, Napoleon x Jean, Sebastian x Saint-Germain (main)

Words: 2939

Their first encounter was twelve years ago, in a training and recruitment camp in the east.

It was a slow and uneventful afternoon. Leon yawned as he watched sons and young fathers line up at the administration table, each of them carrying a conscription letter with their respective names.

The prolonged war had taken too many of their older, more capable men. Leon snorted at the sight of snot-faced, butterfingered lads not even old enough to venture far from their parents' farm.

Nothing had been amiss until he heard his sergeant, Sebastian, arguing with some country boy.

The boy was about his height, clearly younger by a good four years and too ethereally pretty to join the army. His expression was nonchalant, and Leon noted the same lack of enthusiasm in his baritone voice.

"The letter clearly called for Jacques d'Arc, a veteran. You are clearly not him. What's your name, boy?" Sebastian inquired. The word "boy" did not suit his actual, affable demeanor in the slightest.

"Jean d'Arc, Sir. I've come in my elderly father's place as my brothers are unsuitable to partake on the journey to camp," The boy explained levelly. "I just turned seventeen this summer, Sir."

Leo stared at the pale boy. Broad shoulders, a sharp contrast to his ridiculously modest waist, and long legs leaner than an average man's.

If this was what a farm boy was supposed to look like, Leon wasn't impressed. They were drafting soldiers to fight off the goddamned Holy Roman Empire, not chevalier servants for a house of pleasures.

Napoleon's patience grew thin. He disappeared between the encampment's gates, not bothering to see the end of Sebastian's quarrel with the dispassionate recruit.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The haughty farmboy turned out to be one of his cadets in the artillery.

He wasn't half-bad, Leon supposed. The boy was clearly a quick study and obedient, to boot. Somewhat distant from his fellow trainees, but still handy nonetheless.

D'Arc clearly preferred the company of horses, as Leon came to learn when he found the latter loitering around the stables. The unwitting boy was gingerly brushing Leon's beloved mare, Angé.

Napoleon cleared his throat. "You do know it's my horse you're brushing, don't you, soldier?"

Jean d'Arc started at the sound of Leon's voice. Even so, he didn't stutter. "Forgive me. I hadn't been aware."

But Napoleon signaled him to stay at ease, seeing how easily Angé leaned into his touch. No doubt a skill he brought from home.

"I couldn't resist approaching such a magnificent horse," d'Arc spoke to Leon's surprise. "Such a gentle steed."

“Tame” wasn't the right word Leon would use when describing Angé, especially not regarding how she'd usually react to new faces. "Did you bribe her with a carrot?"

Leon was joking, but Jean answered him like his entire month's salary depended on his answer. "No, sir. It was an apple I offered instead. Although this time, I had been meaning to give her a carrot." The dark-haired youth answered, holding out a spindly carrot for Leon to inspect.

Napoleon couldn't help but chuckle. "I hope you didn't steal that from the kitchen."

"No, sir. I procured this out of my own pocket." Jean replied earnestly as if the dark brown mare wasn't trying to chew on his uniform shoulder.

It was dangerous for Napoleon to allow himself to laugh. There was no stopping him once he laughed, Sebastian once said. In the end, Leon only smirked and turned to exit the stables. "If I had known you were this skillful at handling horses, I would have turned you over to Cavalry instead."

There was a solemn glint in d'Arc's eyes, one Napoleon couldn't find in himself to ridicule.

"I enjoy being in the artillery, sir." Sharp, once-glazed iolite eyes held Leon's gaze. "There is so much I have yet to learn."

And master, Leon wanted to add. Given time and the opportunity, it's intelligent men like d'Arc who were quick to advance in the military.

"Is that so? Good to hear." Leon replied, just as sincere. "We're glad to have you."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

True to Leon's word, d'Arc scaled the ranks in no time. He was promoted to Sergeant Major, just as Leon himself rose to Second Lieutenant.

It had been a snowy night when Leon and the now-Adjutant Sebastian were making their way to their temporary base, located not too far from the town’s business district. The streets were relatively quiet, save for the distant jeers and shouts of soldiers making merry in brightly lit taverns.

The lanterns reminded Leon of Paris, of home. Of the face of his mother and siblings.

And of his fiancé with strawberry blonde locks, who is no doubt currently enjoying the holidays with her family, waiting for him to arrive home.

"Everybody seems quite spirited, aren't they?" Sebastian smiled fondly. "I mean, literally.

Napoleon didn't answer. He was too absorbed watching black figures dance on the light pouring from the door of a tavern. They reminded him of a shadow play he watched once in Paris with his fiancé

Which meant he was caught off guard when a body was flung to his side from the open door. He struggled to maintain his footing as he propped the other man.

Only to be met by a familiar face, now flushed red from drinking.

"D'Arc!" Leon exclaimed, "You frightened me! Are you alright, man?"

Judging from the sweat clinging to his skin (despite it being midwinter) and his vehement groans, it became evident that d'Arc was far from alright.

They were soon joined by d'Arc's friends: fellow officers whom Leon quickly recognized as the three young nobles who constantly hung around the farm boy for some reason.

"Jean! Where are you— ack, Second Lieutenant Bonaparte! Forgive us! We didn't mean to—" One of the lads shrieked. What was his name? d'Alencon? "See, see? This is why we shouldn't have forced him to drink!"

Leon glared at his subordinates. "You made your friend overdrink?! Why?"

Sebastian glanced back-and-forth anxiously as a burly man with raven hair stepped forward. "We didn't mean to, sir. D'Arc's birthday is approaching, and we thought about celebrating since we may not be able to get off camp by then." He explained.

"D'arc birthday? Oof!" Leon grunted as he felt Jean slipping from his side and onto the cobblestones. "That is still no reason to make your friend this intoxicated. If this were the barracks, I'd have all of you thrown out and never mind your parents!" he barked.

D'Alencon piped up. "It was a small pint, sir. Jean went down immediately after that one shot."

Leon's bewilderment was cut short as he felt d'Arc's breath caressing the side of his exposed neck. The Second Lieutenant nearly yelped and threw d’Arc off if it wasn’t for the vice-like grip on his waist.

"If you'd allow us, sir." Another dark-haired youth approached to pry d'Arc off Leon. "We'll take him back inside."

But d'Arc's iron hold on Leon proved too much for both men (three, as Sebastian rushed to their aid). Napoleon let out a defeated laugh as d'Arc only clung tighter to his victim.

Sebastian eyed Napoleon with a look that said well, he's your problem now.

The unconscious d' Arc somehow managed to climb even higher and grunted audibly against Leon's ear. The sound sent shivers down Leon's spine.

"So, what do we do now?" d'Alencon asked.

"Get him to the base," Leon breathed laboriously. "Let Saint-Germain treat him."

It was overkill for a drunk soldier, but d'Arc was no ordinary drunk. Leon feared the inebriated youth might get himself into trouble if they let him loiter outside the base

And, God forbid, do something that will besmirch their corps' name.

Leon looped one of d'Arc's arms behind his neck as he held the sergeant-major's ridiculously thin waist close. "Leave this to us. We're taking him back to the Doctor. Don't try anything else and report to me in the morning." He informed the officers, all of whom reacted differently: d'Alencon with wide panicked eyes, the tall, dark man who stayed silent (he was clearly drunk), and the quiet one, who regarded the commotion with well, silence.

"We'll take it from here then," Sebastian hurriedly added. "If you'll excuse us, gentlemen."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It didn't take long before the trio finally reached the base. By now, Leon had resorted to piggybacking d'Arc as the latter suddenly seemed to have lost every bone in his (surprisingly light body).

"Friends, they say." Leon heaved. "And they don't even accompany us back to base."

"There's not much to do at the base if they choose to return," Sebastian answered. "And they're still afraid of you."

"Me? Do I still come off as threatening?" Leon laughed. It felt like ages since he last barked orders on the field to the then-recruits. Now, they were officers with a third of his burden and responsibilities.

Someday, they'd be in his shoes too, growing older as the never ending war raged on. Ah, how time flew.

"Not as my long-time friend, no." Sebastian giggled. "You don't often show your friendlier side these days. Imagine your subordinate's shock if they found out you're a charismatic, passionate man who laughs, eats, and speaks as if every moment was a gift."

Napoleon smiled at the dove-haired man.

"So, like a normal man?" He chuckled. "You flatter me too much, Sebastian."

It was the increasing body count. It was the uncertainty one faced before heading off to battle, and not knowing whether it would be their remains that would be scattered across the fields the next minute.

"At least you're with me from the start, Sebastian. That's all I could ask,"

was all Napoleon could manage. It elicited a hearty laugh from his best friend.

"Save those words for your fiancé, Monsieur Bonaparte," Sebastian grinned. "You're making me fall for you all over again."

The Corsican grimaced, and both men continued their walk through the military complex, which was dead silent as a cemetery.

They managed to reach d'Arc's quarters, which he shared with d'Alencon after clambering through several corridors and a flight of stairs.

"You, get Saint-Germain or anybody else who's still around." Leon panted after he successfully hoisted d'Arc's body onto the bed. "Remember, time of the essence. No fooling around with the good doctor."

"Didn't expect you to say that," Sebastian grinned. "But you can count on me."

"Didn't expect you to say that," Sebastian grinned. "But you can count on me. I’ll be right back." And with that, he disappeared.

If he were shameless, Leon would have joined d'Arc on the bed beside him. But not even exhaustion could conquer the Corsican, and so Leon sat straight-legged by the foot of the bed.

D'Arc's side of the room was as bare as bones, Leon noticed. There was the Holy Book on the bedside drawer and a gold rosary, but not much else.

"I wonder what your family would think if they caught their good, Christian son drinking until he's plastered." Leon chuckled to himself. "You'd be in so much trouble."

Leon's idle hand groped around until he felt a piece of paper under his palm. Picking it up, he recognized it as a manual on newly produced cannon types, which he penned.

Around the illustrations and diagrams were d'Arc's chicken-foot scribbles, cramped next to each other until there was barely any space left on the paper.

Like his former fellow cadets, he too had grown.

Leon sighed and leaned against the bed, gazing at the ceiling. This year marked d'Arc's third New Year with the company. He was no longer the solitary boy hanging around the stables feeding Angé carrots. D'Arc was now a man with dozens of cannons under his command and his own soldiers to lead.

The war has yet to strip his innocence, Leon mused. There was a time when he wished farm boys like d'Arc remained boys, away from the dangers of shrapnels and enemy bayonets.

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt gloved hands coming to grope at the back of his head, the sides of his face. Was d'Arc awake?

"D'Arc." Leon turned. "You—"

He was cut off when he was suddenly knocked down towards the floor with full force. Leon's head was full of how and why he felt d'Arc's body slide down from the bed and cover his.

"D'Arc!" Leon shouted frantically. "Get off me! You're heavy, for heaven's sake!" But resistance was futile as d'Arc began to boldly crawl all over his prone form, the former's chest firmly pressing down on his back.

"K-keep still," The man on top of him slurred, his nose burrowing into Leon's hair. "Y-you're moving too much."

This idiot! Leon screamed internally. His energy had been wasted to the point where he couldn't just roll over and dislodge the other man. "You keep it together! You dared to tackle your Second Lieutenant, and now you're crushing him to death!"

Leon continued struggling against his predicament until he realized he had no more hope than a cockroach flipped on its back. In the end, he gave up and stopped thinking until slender fingers began to wander all over his neck and face.

Just like a banshee with her clawed hands. Leon sighed to himself.

Just when he thought nothing could surprise him anymore, d'Arc somehow had to whisper right next to his face, hot air grazing against the shell of Leon's ear.

"Pierre, 's that you?"

Leon's prior mortification faded. There was the smallest hint of a sob in d'Arc's otherwise unwavering voice.

"Pierre, 'm so sorry." D'Arc sniffled. "I went ahead without telling you."

Leon stilled. Who was Pierre? His brother? He remembered d'Arc mentioning male siblings who were unfit to enlist, so he went in their stead. Was this Pierre one of them?

"Dun want you to go," D'Arc continued. "Please...be happy with Émile."

Leon was an imaginative man, and he was convinced d'Arc had taken his brother's place as he had been newly married. It was easy to position himself in the situation. If he were d'Arc, he'd go in place of his brother too.

But his career in the military as a second was a given. What he didn't understand was why d'Arc would trade a peaceful life in the pastures for bloodshed.

It's not every day that a boy woke up and decided he was brave enough to kill a man. Or risk getting himself killed.

But none of it mattered as more words flowed out of the Sergeant Major's mouth.

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt gloved hands coming to grope at the back of his head, the sides of his face. Was d'Arc awake?

"D'Arc." Leon turned. "You—"

He was cut off when he was suddenly knocked down towards the floor with full force. Leon's head was full of how and why he felt d'Arc's body slide down from the bed and cover his.

"K-keep still," The man on top of him slurred, his nose burrowing into Leon's hair. "Y-you're moving too much."

Leon continued struggling against his predicament until he realized he had no more hope than a cockroach flipped on its back. In the end, he gave up and stopped to think until slender fingers began to wander all over his neck and face.

Just like a banshee with her clawed hands. Leon sighed.

Just when he thought nothing could surprise him anymore, d'Arc somehow had to whisper right next to his face, hot air grazing against the shell of Leon's ear.

"Pierre, 's that you?"

Leon's prior mortification faded. There was the smallest hint of a sob in d'Arc's otherwise unwavering voice.

"Pierre, 'm so sorry." D'Arc sniffled. "I went ahead without telling you."

Leon stilled. Who was Pierre? His brother? He remembered d'Arc mentioning male siblings who were unfit to enlist, so he went in their stead. Was this Pierre one of them?

"Dun want you to go," D'Arc continued. "Please...be happy with Émile."

But his career in the military as a second was a given. What he didn't understand was why d'Arc would trade a peaceful life in the pastures for bloodshed.

It's not every day that a boy woke up and decided he was brave enough to kill a man. Or risk getting himself killed.

In place of sobs spilling from his mouth, d'Arc's nose dug even deeper against the nape of Leon's neck. What worrying behavior, Leon thought. Other people will be sure to take this the wrong way.

"D'Arc? No, Jean?" Leon called softly, wondering if calling the soldier by his given name would work better. "Jean, I need you to—"

"Jehanne," d'Arc murmured.

"What?"

"It's Jehanne. Not Jean, not...d'Arc. Jehanne." D’Arc repeated as if his own name were a litany. The added syllable lent more personality to his unremarkable official name, given to a million men across the country.

And shaped a clearer image of Jean d'Arc as a whole, a person.

It wasn't much but enough to distinguish him from the lonely d'Arc who was no longer alone. And from the resigned beauty who seemed more at home on the distant moon than the lines of cannons and armed men.

God, Leon was starting to sound delirious. Even more than the actual drunk on his back.

"Excuse me, I believe someone requested medical help — oh dear, I didn't mean to interrupt!" a voice alerted Leon from his reflection. He noticed Saint-Germain by the door, followed by a disheveled Sebastian.

"Good evening, Doctor. You sure took your time coming here," Leon smirked. "Would you kindly free me from Sergeant Major d'Arc? Careful, he bites."

⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋⚋

Recommended BGM: (X)

Notes: yeaaa, so I changed the nature of Napo and Sebas’ relationship here because they’re supposed to be more or less equals (Sebas still thinks of him as his superior, but still).

Also, I kinda had to tone down Napoleon’s prince charming tendencies and up the arrogance somewhat. He’s supposed to be a military officer here and not just somebody’s boyfriend.

#ikevam fanfic #ikemen vampire #ikevam jean d'arc #ikevam napoleon bonaparte #jeanpoleon

46 notes · View notes

mynanapost · 3 years

Text

Who am I? Who I am was a question I kept asking myself all my life. I figured lately that I am a transported tree, plant, land, and home that is always gravitized to Palestine. I am a citizen of the world and my passport is a threat to all the bordered states I visit or stay in. I am recognized for many things that I am not; and, I am labeled for many things that I disapprove and do not recognize. I am a star that is always censored and tracked by foreign militaries and intelligences. I am a unique reminder of the failure of the zionist progress towards the ethnic cleansing of Palestinians.

In this article, I am aiming to take you on a speed tour consisting of no more than 1200 words about the resistance mechanisms of a second generation displaced person living in Gaza and is originally from Yafa.

Fighting like a Palestinian is as tough to us as you might see on your headline news. Substantially different though, I promise. Hello, I am Wasim, I am Palestinian (I fight) and I want to make this world a better place. And I fight. The fear of being hated and judged as a Palestinian is as bad as your fear of missing out (FOMO). Our FOMO is usually one of three things, first, the fear of missing out on a strike of bombs in your neighborhood. We usually fear not being there to calm and assure our family that we are home and that they could at least not worry about us. Second, the fear of missing out a chance to buy groceries on a ceasefire. Third, not being awake or home to use the four to eight hours of electricity we get per day. This includes cooking, charging phones and laptops, using WiFi, heating water, and doing laundry.

We as Palestinians do not resist or fight through machinery. In fact, our machinery compared to others in the region might be the least effective. Hence, we use our words, education, knowledge to fight and resist. I will be resisting and fighting in this article as you tour with me.

My grandfather was forced out of his home by Zionists. And I resist. I resist and fight through presenting a negated history. Yafa, a beautiful place and also an occupied city in Palestine, is where my grandfather lived. He assured us to have hope. We fight, resist, and FIGHT trying to explain that we have the right to return home. He adds that one day he will take us all back home, may his soul rest in peace. My home in Yafa might now be a dancing club or even better a dating bar. Who knows but it is there in Yafa. He, my grandfather, would always say that if I would bring him a granddaughter, I shall name her Yafa. He would always say that she will be beautiful just like the city.

Visualizing my beloved Gaza is easy. North and East, we have IDF blockage isolating us from the rest of Palestine. West, we only have three miles of the lovely Mediterranean Sea where fishermen struggle for their livelihood and pray to get back home safe every day. And south, we have Egypt’s borders. Gaza is a piece of land that is guarded by the most powerful powers in the region. Well, it is not really guarded for our precious souls, but from them.

I survived three brutal aggressions on Gaza before celebrating my 17th birthday. We fought and resisted during and after each of these aggressions. We learnt how to fight by picking up the rubble and turning it into something to build with. We had nothing but rubble and a 4 digit number stating the number of deaths. We have constructed the roads of our seaport in Gaza with the rubble of destroyed buildings. We have also managed to turn the ash of coal and wood into building bricks that are used in construction buildings now with great demand. We as Palestinians fight our way through every aspect of our day through education, art, history, theatre, innovation and many more. We resist our ethnic cleansing by surviving, and then, by reproducing. We fight, everyday, endlessly.

To make it easier for everyone to visualize, I will use recently used concepts on world news to explain a long living experience. Curfew, as a concept, has been a huge highlight of our lives for as far as I can remember. Similar rules are imposed in the curfews set like the ones we all had during the pandemic. You can only leave when having an extreme reason to do so, however, you are assured that you will not be safe if you decide to leave, even if leaving means saving your life or the life of a loved one by going to the hospital.

The curfews were always there to remind us that we are occupied. Our usually failed ceasefires were similar to the end of pandemic related lockdowns. We try to secure food, for God knows when the next time we might have the option of leaving the house. However, unlike social distancing post-lockdowns, we hug and kiss our beloved ones knowing that it might be the last time we do so. The next digit number by one of us.

We live with post-traumatic stress disorders (PTSDs) as if they were our closest friend. These PTSDs are censored to the sound of planes, the sound of screaming, the sound of explosion and anything similar. They also adapt as part of our human nature as they develop to assure us, when being abroad, that the planes flying above us are not the same ones that were once attacking us. The PTSD is also quite conscious during New Years and other big celebrations when we do not realize that the fireworks are noises of happiness. It is exactly how we used to lie to assure our younger siblings that they will be safe. (+18) Their shock realizing the sorrow might be as bad as when children of western side of the world discover that Santa Clause is not real. (+18)

I believe most people living abroad during the Pandemic have gone through a slightly similar experience of the Palestinian’s daily struggle. Not being able to go back and feeling unwelcome in their home because there might not be space. And not being able to go anywhere else because you will always be a suspect holder. Yes, we are always suspects; accused of having a terroristic mentality. Unfortunately, we could never disprove their false accusations with a certified document saying that we are negative to their biased misconceptions. I would wait for a week and pay the 90$ for this certification. When you are a Palestinian holding dual citizenships, life changes; as I hear from my brother and witness my friends not having to stress a lot before entering any check point. Being respected and accounted for human rights are things they encounter after traveling with their other citizenship.

You could always be concise and go straight to the point. Why don't we stop fighting or why don't we just accept the peace talks. Well, lately we have been accepting of almost anything, but people would still see us as terrorists. Nonetheless, there is nothing concise about this struggle besides the daily headline news mentioning the number of dead and injured due to a “conflict”. I would have to explain all the intersections and the cross-borders and their history to be able to go through the complexity of my beloved Palestine.

In remembrance of Murid Barghouti, “Palestinians have a unique story that's similar to none of the stories of others, but one at the same time because what is shared is huge: the sense of loss, exile, being displaced, being oppressed, being voiceless, being of a negated history and geography”. - may his soul rest in peace.

#palestine #freedom for palestine #gazaunderattack #savesheikhjarrah #freedom #human rights #life #palestinian lives matter #انقذوا حي الشيخ جراح

15 notes · View notes

thanatosangels · 4 years

Text

Liquor On Her Lips

a Matthew Fairchild one shot

disclaimer - this includes the elusive Italian Girl who is to appear in Chain of Iron. as i am writing this in July of 2020, i have no more knowledge than anybody else on the matters of this Italian Girl. Therefore, any and all mentions of her in this are entirely from my imagination, sent to yours. i really hope you enjoy! <3

Matthew lounged by his pillar, the one he had taken to stationing himself at during events like these, and surveyed the room.

The ballroom of the London Institute was alive and whirling with colour and dancing and music and chatter and laughter. The middle of the room was filled with couples: some awkwardly swaying together for mere convenience, simply because they did not want to be appear socially outcast, some smiling together, friends or siblings, who were lightly conversing as they moved their feet in time to the music, and some - those who made Matthew roll his eyes - stared longingly, lovingly into one another’s eyes as they spun perfectly around the hall, as if they knew each others movements better than their own.

And then there was James and Cordelia.

They were swaying together, near the middle of the floor, as they should be. They were engaged. It would have been, if not scandalous, a bizarre occurrence had they been dancing with anyone else, save a sibling or relative. Matthew could not tear his eyes from Cordelia, her hair ablaze in the bright witchlight, her beautiful face turned upwards towards her fiancée’s, beaming at him. She’s a good actress, Matthew observed A damn sight better than him. James, too, was smiling, although it was rather absentminded, distracted almost, his gaze periodically flitting towards the shock of silver spinning very nearby. His black hair was tumbling into his eyes, a waterfall of ink dripping down a white page, and he looked positively dashing in his black and white three-piece that set off Cordelia’s burgundy dress wonderfully. Even Matthew had to admit they made a pretty pair. To the happy couple. he thought ruefully, as he took a swig of gin from his flask.

Matthew watched Cordelia, as Cordelia watched James, as James watched Grace.

She was, naturally, dancing with Charles. They moved together disjointedly, borderline awkwardly, and Charles looked as if he would rather be anywhere else. Matthew knew he was a bloody git, and he didn’t think much more of Grace either, but he thought he might have at least had the presence of mind, the manners, to have plastered a smile on his face in front of all these people. Grace was smiling sweetly, her grey eyes wide as she stared pathetically at Matthew’s brother. They turned his stomach. He scanned the room, searching for Anna, pressing the flask to his lips again.

“You love her.”

Matthew jumped at the feminine, accented voice, almost spilling gin down his new waistcoat. He turned indignantly to see Reneta Malatesta standing just behind him. He’d almost forgotten the latest addition to the London Institute, an Italian girl on her travel year, who had arrived the week before. She had been polite and kind so far, if rather withdrawn. Matthew had a vague recollection of someone saying this ball had been thrown to welcome her, but his memory was foggy. It always was.

“Pardon?” Matthew made no attempt to hide his flask.

“I said,” She leaned towards him, her soft, brown eyes steady but bright. “You love her.” The corner of her mouth quirked up at one side.

Matthew raised his eyebrows at the girl. She was pretty, but she was not Cordelia. Her brown hair was long, tumbling over her right shoulder and down her lilac dress, highlighted here and there with sunbleached strands. Her skin was tan from the hot Italian summer, and she appeared to be covered from head to toe in freckles. They danced delicately across her high, flushed cheekbones and chased down her Marked neck and arms like stars across the night sky. What really struck Matthew, though, was not her face, or her freckles, or even her accusation; it was that she seemed… familiar, somehow, despite the fact he’d only had one or two conversations with the girl. Something in her eyes, the half-smile, rang a bell.

“Well, Miss Reneta, good evening to you too,” he smiled, his most charming smile, and cocked his head. “If I may be so inclined to inquire, who am I in love with?”

She breezed passed and positioned herself next to him, leaning against the pillar with her hands behind her back and her skirts brushing his leg, so she was facing away from the dancing couples.

“Reni. Please call me Reni,” She looked at him, her eyes dancing. “and one Miss Cordelia Carstairs, of course.” It appeared Matthew had not been the only one watching that evening.

She smelt like whisky. The realisation, the familiarity, dawned on Matthew.

“You’re drunk, Reni.” It was not an accusation, for he was in no position to accuse, but a statement. A fact.

Reni laughed, clear as a bell, let her head loll back against the pillar, and met Matthew’s gaze directly. “But am I wrong?”

He broke the eye contact, slightly unnerved by the sense that she could see directly into his soul. He did not know what to say, so he said nothing at all. He simply took another swig of gin and held the flask out to her in offering. She took it and, in a fashion most unladlylike, gulped greedily. Then, transferring Matthew’s beloved flask to her left hand, she reached down the front of her dress and pulled out a flask of her own. Matthew decided, right then and there, that he liked this enigma of a girl. Her’s was smaller than his, shining silver, decorated with delicately carved flowers and butterflies. She handed it over, and Matthew drank from it, looking at her quizzically.

“Why whisky?”

She leaned in closer to him still. “It burns.” Her voice was low. Her eyes flared. “I like it.”

Matthew had been carelessly leaning, facing her, but he moved to stand over Reni, his right hand - still holding her flask - on the pillar just above her slim shoulder, his left in his pocket. He could not help it. Here was a pretty girl, with liquor on her lips, shamelessly flirting with him. It was not that he was not used to being flirted with, by man or woman, it was that she was so forward, so brazen, he was so used to that particular burden falling on his shoulders that he could not help but be enthralled by this Shadowhunter girl’s electrifying air. She’s not Cordelia! a voice at the back of mind insisted, but he pushed the thought back. His blonde hair fell into his twinkling eyes, and he smirked. She raised her face to meet angles with his, their lips centimetres apart, the smell of the alcohol on their breaths hung in the air between them.

“I have to say, Reni darling, I think I rather like you.”

She smiled then, a deceptively innocent smile, that lit up her freckled face. She’s not Cordelia.

“I’m glad to hear that, Mr Fairchild.”

Unbidden, the wispy, half-memory of a dream about waking up with Cordelia in his arms, showering her with sweet, morning kisses drifted through his head. Again, he pushed the thought back.

“You can call me Matthew.”

He was about to bend his head ever so slightly down, to close the distance between him and Reni, when a flash of burning red caught his eye.

Cordelia, in all her glorious, fiery perfection, all skirts and long hair and graceful arms, was spun rapidly past the pillar by James. Matthew could not help but stare. She was so elegant and poised, like the sun rising in the East, blazing over London and washing away all the grey and black of the night with a coat of glittering golds and sparkling reds. His head followed her, almost involuntary, as she turned and turned away from him, unknowingly knotting the strings of fate that entwined her and James and Matthew together even more tightly than before.

Suddenly, awakening him from his reverie, there was a small, scarred hand gently grabbing his chin. Reni repositioned his face directly above hers, as they had been before, and looked him dead in the eye through thick eyelashes.

“You know,” Their lips were millimetres away from each other, he could taste the whisky on her breath. “I have been told I am an excellent distraction.”

And, with that, he closed his eyes and kissed her.

90 notes · View notes

mythriteshah · 3 years

Text

The Valide’s Pride

WARNING: Upon clicking the read-more link below, several cutscenes will play in sequence. It is recommended that you set aside sufficient time to read these scenes in their entirety.

Furthermore, while this will reveal some major details regarding Thiji and the Regalia, some of the content disclosed within may be offensive for some audiences. As such, should you find yourself discouraged to continue, you may close this page/tab at any time and no dishonor shall be brought upon you.

Another moonlit night graces the Near East, though Menphina's light shone with a golden intensity as opposed to its usual silver luminescence. Save for the towers strewn about the land, all was relatively peaceful as the Telophoroi had been driven back yet again. Everyone is fighting tooth and nail for the salvation of the star - as they should. Should these ruinous portents continue, there would certainly be untold chaos engulfing the realm. With a reprieve finally in sight, the time had come to reflect and contemplate.

Upon the balcony within her azure and ivory chambers, Mimizo Higuri, Valide Sultan of the Higuri Regalia, stood in silence, a bladed fan obscuring the lower half of her face as she gazed upon the vast jungles of Thavnair which surrounded the city-state of Radz-at-Han. Her husband Fafastima slept soundly in his chambers, blissfully unaware that she was still up and about during so late a bell. One would suspect that something was weighing heavily upon her mind so that it was difficult for her to even rest. And sure enough, the Valide Sultan did indeed have some introspection of which to take care. Mimizo directed her gaze upward, towards the gilded moon which shone proudly against the night sky, drinking in the scenery of the sunless sea until she slowly closed her eyes. Her mind then whisked her away to a similar moment: she stood on that same balcony, gazing at the moon, though silvery, with her favored son, Thiji. They had been talking for a good half-bell, it seemed, discussing matters which pertained to the developments of the other lands. Nyra was perched upon a post, resting peacefully. Fafastima was absent in this scene, apparently returning from an excursion with the Wavetraders. It was then that they would hear a knock upon the door to Mimizo's chambers. "Enter," she promptly ordered. The double doors would open, revealing the beautiful platinum-blonde Dunesfolk of aqua eyes: Veeveena Veena, Higuri Regalia Main Branch Advisor. Her unannounced arrival surprised Mimizo and Thiji both, expecting Thiji's dear Angel to have been within the sweet surrender of sleep for at least two bells now. Wearing her evening gown along with the Periapt of Patience, she gave a curt bow before she crossed the threshold, hands folded at the front. An expression of sorrow was evident on her face, for her eyes seemed to have begun welling up... "Miss Veeveena..." Thiji greeted. "'Tis something the matter?" "Yes, My Sultan," the Advisor replied immediately as she came closer, stopping at the center of the chambers. "Something most certainly is." "Speak freely, dear," Mimizo followed. Though Mimizo was good at reading the hearts of particular individuals, she already knew what Veeveena was doing here. Nevertheless, she decided to play along. "No more, Valide..." Veeveena said, her head bowed low, hiding her tears, which had begun to shed as she spoke. "I cannot bear this anymore. The truth must be revealed!" "Miss Veeveena -" was all Thiji could get out before he would be interrupted by his Advisor. "Forgive me, My Sultan, but pray hear me and do not speak," Veeveena interjected. The Mythrite Sultan trusted his Angels - his Advisors especially - and complied, putting his arms behind his back, watching and listening intently to Veeveena. He - and his mothers - would expect a lengthy statement to be made. "I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive us, my lord, but your mother and I have been keeping a secret for some time now. We decided on a private ultimatum that you and I would be wed should you fail to find your Sultana by your thirtieth Nameday." Thiji's eyes went somewhat wide by this. Mimizo was taken aback that she had revealed their plan so far ahead of schedule. Veeveena's tears glinted like silver stars from her face before they stained the rug, desperately fighting back the urge to bawl. "I am... truly flattered, Miss Veeveena," Thiji began, "but you know of the policy put in place." "I do, My Sultan..." she replied. "However, I cannot suffer this any longer - and nor should you. This is not what Lady Mamai would want - may she rest peacefully in the Lifestream. She would want to see you happy, as would any of us who have been with you for many summers. And though I am your Apsara of Patience... even mine can run thin, and I will not deny my heart any longer." She revealed her tear-stained face, bright pink from her sobbing, before she stood ilms before her lord. Mimizo was shocked, to say the least, but beamed in eagerness to see this event play out in its entirety. She took a step back and spectated, placing her fan within her palm as she did. "I have had the pleasure of witnessing all the amazing feats and events you have done, my lord. You are truly a blessing to this realm, and anyone who thinks or says otherwise will meet the swift and brutal sentence of death by my hand, personally. Your dream - your ambition that is sweeter than any lassi or berry - of becoming a Sorceress' Knight - is so precious and touching that hearing of you ending it shattered many of us. You have been through loss after loss; trial after trial, and though you came out stronger as a result, you were never truly given the comfort you so rightfully deserve. It crushed me, watching you from afar, alone at night with naught an audience but the stars above as you cursed Menphina and Nymeia for conspiring against you since when first you arrived in Eorzea. I hated seeing you so distraught, and yet I sat and stood idly by: my beloved Mythrite Sultan, whom I have served with unwavering loyalty for many summers, suffering in silence. And yet all this time, you soldiered on, using your wealth and resources to bring smiles to the less privileged and destitute; uplifting the spirits of others with your presence, and establishing alliances which I know will transcend the test of time. You've hid this away for so long, and that smile on your face - the one you make when a project has come to fruition - is the one thing I loved seeing with each turn of the sun. But my heart cannot bear this burden any longer... I wish to see that smile more; I wish to see your dream come to fruition; I wish to see my Mythrite Sultan truly happy... " Veeveena then took Thiji's hands, placing hers on his as she stared at the Mythrite Sultan with a gaze and a countenance that could only be emulated by that of a lover's. Mimizo and Nyra - who had flew over to the former's side during Veeveena's speech - were moved by her words, though she still had more to say... "Which is why... if you'll have me, My Sultan, I will abdicate the position of Advisor, as well as my status as an Angel... to become your Mythrite Sultana." Nyra's eyes went wide - wider than normal for an owl - upon hearing her declaration. A quiet gasp was the only thing which escaped Mimizo's lips. As for Thiji, his gaze softened as a result - he knew Veeveena harbored feelings for him, but he was not aware of how passionate she was about his situation. The policy established by an agreement between himself and his Angels stated that he, under no circumstances whatsoever, was allowed to court his Angels in a romantic setting, or vice versa. Thiji means to deviate from the corrupted form of a harem, which alone earned him the respect of his peers and even his maidservants. With Veeveena's intent made clear, her abdication from being an Angel meant that she was no longer fettered by the stipulations heretofore placed. Thiji's eyes slowly moved to the left, thinking back to the countless suns where he had a vacant space beside him - a lone merchant-lord who disregarded his own shortcomings (Lalafell pun not intended) in order to bring joy and the enlightenment of high fashion to the realm. Though it was no small secret that the Higuri Clan was secure thanks to his brother and Umimi - along with having seven other siblings - he still bore the burden as the head of the Regalia. Everyone knew that Thiji was Mimizo's favored son - her greatest pride and joy - and it was a notion well-deserved. As a man of twenty-eight summers, he was definitely growing sick, tired, and even jaded by lonely days and lonelier nights. His only true companions were Glacius and Nyra - both of whom have already spawned progeny of their own. Everyone seemed to have been winning in this race, and Thiji has been left in the dust for quite a while. There may have been times where he did not care, but having someone near and dear beside oneself was truly an incredible feeling that could never be replaced. He turned his gaze back to Veeveena, tears still falling from her limpid aqua orbs, staring intently into Thiji's ice-blue-and-silver-white eyes. He sighed and shook his head, but not because he had intended to deny Veeveena, but as a sign of the lifting of his burden, like a ten-tonze weight finally being removed from his shoulders. Thiji would then direct his gaze towards Mimizo... "Mother," he spoke, "Inform the other Angels. They must know; they must come... And they must see their Sultana." "No need, Lord Thiji!" A voice was heard from within their ears. Apparently a linkpearl was active sometime before Veeveena's arrival. It sounded like Sesena's! "We're already en route to Radz-at-Han via airship to see our beautiful Veeveena become your betrothed! We're so happy for you both! Within the sennight, Veeveena Veena shall become the Mythrite Sultana! And don't worry - no one else but the Regalia will know of this. I like the gossip coming from people calling Lord Thiji the 'Mythrite Bachelor', so this marriage will be secret!" "Thank you, Miss Sesena," Thiji acknowledged before cutting the transmission. Mimizo was absolutely elated by this, her grin wide as she walked over to give them both a pat on the shoulder, leaving them both alone for now to make preparations for the coming wedding. Veeveena then fell into Thiji's arms, catching her in a loving embrace. She then whispered to him: "My Sultan... never again at night... shall you be welcomed by a cold and empty bed." Snapping back to the present, Mimizo gave a quiet sigh, the recollection causing some beads of sweat to fall from her brow. She fanned herself for a brief moment and made her way to the dresser, whereupon she gazed at a mythril-framed portrait of Thiji and Veeveena, happily married and brought into the family as her Daughter-in-Law. She smiled at this sight, proud of Veeveena's bold yet caring heart. Her efforts had finally bore fruit as her dearest firstborn would have a Sultana both strong and beautiful. A second time she would close her eyes and delve into the confines of her memory. This time, her mind's eye would show Veeveena in luxurious garbs befitting of a Sultana, resting upon the sofa where she spent many a bell beside Thiji during his moments of reflection. Another moonlit night upon Radz-at-Han, and Thiji was away tending to other matters in Eorzea. A blissful smile was bare on Lady Veeveena's face as she reclined in light slumber, before a voice was heard from amidst the shadows... "Sister. You're looking well already." Veeveena stirred from the voice, sitting upright to properly address this woman, whom was apparently her sister. Out from the shrouded chambers and into the silvery spotlight stood a Dunesfolk lady with hair and complexion to similar to Veeveena's, but with one distinction: her eyes were an emerald green. From afar, these two would seem identical, though this woman had a more stern look upon her face as opposed to Veeveena's smile-prone antics. She secured her platinum-blonde tresses with a bow and the excess dangled over her left shoulder. She was adorned in the ice blue dancer garbs of her people, but sported serrated daggers of purest mythrite holstered at her hips. "Veeveera," the Mythrite Sultana spoke, though softly. "Full glad am I to see you. I am sorry recent events had forced you out of hiding." "Think naught of it, Veena," she replied with a wave of her hand. "Someone had to fill the role of Advisor, and it only made sense that I'd return from my work in Uznair to take care of my elder sister." Veeveena giggled, rising from her seat to turn to Veeveera. The latter came to the former's side, bowing to her as she faced Veeveena. "House Higuri is secured - as is our house - thanks to you, Your Grace. You took well of our lord's seed, and have given birth to two strong and beautiful heirs - a son and a daughter both - for our Mythrite Sultan. Two pure Dunesfolk, as the Valide desired."

"I am merely happy to finally bring joy to my lord and love," Veeveena said back with a smile. "Though I am his wife, my duty to him still remains. Ours are souls yearning for battle, and now that I've experienced motherhood just as Lady Umimi, our savagery can only be amplified tenfold!" "Spoken like a true warrior, Veena," Veeveera acknowledged as she began pacing the floor. Still, I would not have it any other way - nor would Lady Mimizo. She would have been incensed beyond belief if our lord sullied his family's genes with any other race. And don't even get me started on those feral kittens and fragile lizards whose body structures are akin to that of twigs. Honestly, I do not see the appeal behind these tailed waifs. Being the traditionalists that we Dunesfolk are, the mere notion of hybrids is right out. Thavnair's nobles should not be tainted by such wanton, disgusting acts of interracial breeding..." "If it is any consolation, Veera," the Mythrite Sultana interjected, "Our lord has caught the eyes of many a courtesan, with the intent on bedding him! His charisma alone is a testament to the attention he is receiving as of late. Also, some of the other races are from Thavnair as well; are they not kin?" "Of that I am well aware..." Veera retorted with a sigh, arms crossed. "Whether they choose to have the honor and privilege of taking deep of our lord's seed and bearing his children is entirely up to them. The truth hurts, and if they wish to protest, they are more than welcome to see me personally. Though I cannot guarantee they will leave without a dagger or three in their throats. As for your latter question, Your Grace, I said nary a word regarding the origin of individuals. I was merely commenting on the principle of the overlying matter: copulation with other non-Lalafell, be they from Thavnair or otherwise, is frowned upon, regardless of it being... openly practiced in other areas of the realm. There is a reason we have none with tails within the Regalia’s employ. And to be quite honest, I pray it stays that way. Were it not for these recent events, the noble houses would not even be getting together to discuss the welcoming of adventurers." "Such venom, Veera... but I would be inclined to agree!" Veera exclaimed. "The Angels are so relieved to know that my Lord Thiji finally has progeny to carry on that beautiful man's legacy... He has suffered overlong - far, far overlong. Valide Sultan knew it, and still we hoped; still, we dared. But that is in the past, and we must move on from it, lest we be consumed and held back by it. Now all that matters is to ensure our children remain safe and secure Thavnair from the Telophoroi. I refuse to let my Sultan's beloved heirs meet a terrible fate. A repeat of the Nanago tragedy will not reoccur." "Hmph... that bitch," Veera seethed. "This is all her fault; good riddance to her. First she secretly indulges in contraceptives to deny our Sultan his rightful heirs, and on the eve she forgets them, she is at last with child, only for moons later to supplement her aether reserves and perishes out of existence, leaving behind only her Sorceress powers. An infanticide-suicide in one fell swoop... As if a good night's sleep and healthy meals would not have done the job just the same - if not better - than gorging oneself on the stored aether of Anima weapons." It was certainly clear as day that Veeveera was livid by all the misfortunes that befell Thiji to so passionately address them before her elder sister. She balled a fist in anger and turned sharply around towards the shadows, grumbling to herself. Veeveena simply laid a hand upon her sister's shoulder, giving her that Near Eastern sun smile. "I know, Veera... I know," she assured. "She wasn't worthy. Very few are. But this is the path he chose, and I feel he would gladly make his decisions again. His power has grown by leaps and bounds since he was but a lordling learning the ways of weaving and gemcraft. And now, here we are, at the crux of the Regalia's prosperity, whose golden age will now be extended with the introduction of Thiji II and Sesera. I am grateful to you for keeping me safe during my time in labor, and though I am still resting, I will be looking forward to the day I once again fight alongside Veeveera the Sanguine." "Good," Veeveera concurred. "I'd love to see just how much deadlier Veeveena the Visceral becomes now that she is a mother. But I've lingered overlong. I believe your husband is returning soon, and you've a bed to warm, sister. I'll return to the jungles in the meantime." Veeveera left with a before disappearing into the shadows, once more leaving Veeveena alone with her thoughts. She disrobed herself down to her smallclothes as she approached the bed, neatly placing her lehenga on a chair by the dresser. "Every eve, My Sultan, so long as I am your wife, you will know naught but bliss." Snapping back once more, Mimizo placed the portrait down upon the dresser, and directed her eyes to the mirror, finding Fafastima standing beside her with a smile. She turned around and greeted her husband with a soft hug and a gentle kiss upon the lips. "Dearest wife of mine!" he greeted, "You're still up?! What troubles you so? It is not like a Thavnairian jewel such as yourself to look so down!" "My beloved Fafa," sighed Mimizo, "I am simply... reflecting on all that has happened. I cannot help but feel guilty making our beloved boy wait so many summers when we could have simply arranged a joining with him and Veeveena. She and I wanted to cling to hope - hope that someone out there in Eorzea would fall in love with our son. But we should have known better." "Sweetheart! Don't be that way!" Fafastima interjected, lightly shaking her by the shoulders. "Mimi, I've never doubted your judgment! You've got a gift when it comes to matchmaking. I'm sure you just wanted to see if there were any worthier suitresses for our Thiji! Don't be so hard on yourself; he's powerful as all hells, a master of his craft, showing the realm at large the power of high fashion, and his charisma and philanthropy has given the Regalia so much exposure and adoration than I would ever dare to imagine! All the meanwhile you’ve groomed Veeveena to be the ideal woman and warrior our son deserves as a contingency! I've always been proud of our son, Mimi, and though I, too, wanted to see him with a pretty little something around his arm, he had other matters to attend, especially now that I passed on the reins to him!" These words gave Mimizo some comfort; she beamed at her husband before kissing his cheek. She definitely had no means of being so tough. "Be prideful, Mimi!" Fafastima urged triumphantly. "Our firstborn son made it! And we're officially grandsires! HAHA!" "Fafa... we've been grandparents thanks to Horu and Umimi," Mimizo retorted. "You know what I mean, love!" Fafastima returned. "But our Mythrite Sultan is coming home! Let's go for a stroll and meet him as we enjoy this well-earned victory while we can, yes? After all, there are still matters to attend regarding the other noble houses!" Mimizo responded with a nod as Fafastima stretched and got his sherwani ready. Mimizo slowly approached the balcony as she saw the sails of the Mythril Wavetraders on the horizon - Thiji was finally home. She unfolded her fan, returning to her original spot and kept her gaze fixed on the approaching vessels, still lost in thought...

"Everyone is going to miss you dearly, my son... When next they see you, it will be here, in Thavnair. I know our talks will succeed, and we will ensure that your secrets are well-hidden. You've endured far too much in this life, and at long last, you have what you so rightfully deserve. I cannot shake the guilt so easily, but it is but a flicker compared to the pride swelling within my breast. This realm may not be ready for you as you say... but it is definitely time for them to get ready. The Near East awaits our foreign allies... perhaps the peerless beauty of our land will serve as the perfect diversion for the Regalia. For after all, there is always Power... in Beauty."

#thiji higuri #Higuri Regalia #Lalafell #lalafell master race #short story #valide sultan #mythrite sultan #thavnair #hannish #radz at han #thavnairian

3 notes · View notes

twentiethcenturymoviesandtv · 4 years

Text

The Wizard of Oz: The Story

At first glance, the plot of The Wizard of Oz seems pretty simple and chock full of clichés. A girl from Kansas and her dog find themselves in a wonderful land, and meet a Cowardly Lion, a Tin Man, and a Scarecrow, traveling on a feel-good journey to find the titular Wizard of Oz, the only person who can send Dorothy home.

Pretty straightforward and obvious, right?

Well, there’s a bit more to it than that. (Spoilers below, so on the off chance you haven’t seen the movie, go check it out and come back when you’ve seen it!)

Here’s the setup:

The film opens with Dorothy Gale (Judy Garland) and Toto running along a road in the dull, brown land of Kansas. They are running just ahead of their bike-riding, witch-like neighbor, Ms. Gulch, who is trying to have Toto put down for biting her.

Dorothy, in an understandable panic, tries to tell her Aunt Em and Uncle Henry (who she lives with) about the situation, but they blow her off. She turns for advice instead to three farm hands, who express sympathy and interest in the problem. It is here where Aunt Em tells Dorothy to find somewhere where she won’t get into trouble, and here where Dorothy sings the most famous song in all of cinema.

Now, we’re already looking at quite a lot of setup that will be hugely important later.

First, the templates for the future characters of Oz. Ms. Gulch and the three farmhands are introduced immediately with clear personality traits that will be echoed in their Oz counterparts later on. Ms. Gulch is appropriately antagonistic and witch like. The three farm hands quietly display the traits upon which their dopplegangers will be fixated: brains, heart, and courage.

Then there’s that song. Somewhere Over the Rainbow, while being a song with seemingly little to do with the story has a lot to do with Dorothy’s character. Feeling pushed aside, ignored, and helpless, Dorothy’s famous song is a window into her desires: leaving and finding a place where her dreams will come true.

Long story short, there’s a lot of foreshadowing in this scene.

Ms. Gulch (Margaret Hamilton) arrives on the scene with a sheriff’s order to put Toto down. When her aunt and uncle do nothing to stop it, Dorothy takes Toto and attempts to run away from home.

She doesn’t get far.

She is stopped in her tracks by a kind, traveling con-artist fortune teller (Frank Morgan). The fortune teller, by looking through Dorothy’s things to surmise enough about her situation, uses his crystal ball to cause Dorothy to believe that her aunt is in serious trouble. Worried, Dorothy races home just in time for a cyclone to strike, knocking her on the head and carrying her, Toto, and the house, into the skies, along with Ms. Gulch, who transforms into a witch aboard a broomstick.

When the house lands, it’s in an entirely different place. Gone are the brown-grey tones of Kansas, replaced with bright color and vivid imagery of Munchkin land. Dorothy emerges from the house to be greeted and hailed as a hero by both the Munchkins and Glinda, the Good Witch of the North. Dorothy has slain the Wicked Witch of the East when her house fell atop her, and freed the inhabitants of Munchkin land. Cue song.

Dorothy is understandably confused, especially when the dead witch’s sister, the Wicked Witch of the West (Also Margaret Hamilton) turns up to claim the powerful ruby slippers that belonged to her sibling and are currently sticking out from underneath the house.

Glinda transports the slippers onto Dorothy’s feet instead, enraging the Wicked Witch of the West, and causing her to swear vengeance for her sister. Not powerful enough to hurt Dorothy in the presence of Glinda the Good, the Wicked Witch vanishes in a flash-bang of smoke.

All Dorothy wants is to get home.

Glinda assures her that she can get home by going to see the most Powerful Being in All of Oz: The Wonderful Wizard of Oz of the Emerald City. She can do this, of course, by following the Yellow Brick Road.

Cue another song as Dorothy skips her way out of town, down the road, and towards her goal: getting home.

Already we’re seeing some irony here. Not fifteen minutes ago, Dorothy’s goal was to get Somewhere Over the Rainbow, to be in a magical place. Oz is as magical as they come, and Dorothy was immediately beloved and befriended, and yet, worried for her family (especially her aunt) the goal seems to have flipped; now her desire is to return home. This is unusual for both a fantasy movie and a coming of age story, and The Wizard of Oz is both.

Even stranger, throughout the story, Dorothy never wavers from this goal, leading directly to the lesson at the end. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

Dorothy comes to a fork in the Yellow Brick Road by a cornfield, where she meets an unusual figure: a scarecrow (Ray Bolger), stuck on a pole. Dorothy immediately goes to his aid, helping him down and listening to his woes: he has no brain, which he explains through song. (Aren’t musicals wonderful?)

Dorothy has a solution. She suggests that he joins her, so that he may ask this Wonderful Wizard for some brains. He agrees, and they continue along into a grove of apple-trees. Dorothy, being hungry, goes to pick an apple, only to realize that the trees are alive, and aren’t happy about having their children ripped from them and eaten in front of them.

They don’t word it like that, but that’s the gist of it.

The Brainless Scarecrow takes action, enraging the trees to instead pelt them with the apples, no doubt breaking the hearts of several parents who witnessed their children used as ammunition.

Mission accomplished, Dorothy moves to collect the apples when she stumbles on something else interesting: a man made of tin, rusted nearly solid.

Sensing another opportunity to help, Dorothy uses an oilcan to restore mobility to the Tin-Man (Jack Haley), who thanks them and expresses his own problem: he has no heart, and this just about moves him to tears.

It moves him to song, anyway.

In the end, Dorothy suggests that the Tin Man join them in their journey to Oz, so that he may ask the Wizard for a heart, and he agrees. The Wicked Witch appears again, this time as a more sincere threat, revealed through a demonstration of her fireball-hurling abilities. She disappears in another puff of smoke, and the Scarecrow reveals that fire is his only fear, as it is the only thing that can truly destroy him.

The group continues on into a deep forest, full of ‘lions and tigers and bears’ (oh my!), and are suddenly jumped by a Lion (Bert Lahr). They scatter in terror before his might, all except for little Toto. Faced with this challenge of a tiny dog, the Lion pounces after him, to the outrage of Dorothy, who viciously slaps the Lion on the nose and scolds him. The fierce Lion responds to this attack by bursting into tears.

The Lion explains, in a song, that what he wants most in life is courage, sealing out our rule of three. He too joins the group in the desperate hope that the Wizard will give him the courage he desires, and the three emerge from the forest, across a field of poppies. There is a brief and pointless attack by the Witch, deflected by Deux Ex Glinda, and the group merrily makes their way to the Emerald City.

The guy at the gate briefly stops them, but lets them in after seeing Dorothy’s Ruby Slippers and hearing that they know Glinda the Good. Cue another song, this time describing the joy it is to live in Oz, however they are cut short by the main conflict kicking into high gear: The broomstick-riding Wicked Witch of the West blazes a smoke trail in the sky that says simply: Surrender Dorothy.

The lack of comma is a little confusing as to whether Dorothy is to surrender, or if the people of the Emerald City are supposed to surrender her, but either way, the idea comes across pretty clearly. In the face of this danger, the message returns from the mighty and wise Wizard of Oz: he won’t see them, due to the danger Dorothy has brought.

In desperation, Dorothy starts to cry, mourning her situation, which, despite three new friends, is pretty bleak. Her outburst convinces the Wizard’s guard to let them in, where they meet the famed Wizard.

He’s pretty scary, all right. He insults the group for a few minutes as the group stutters out what they want (a brain, a heart, a home, the nerve), and then lays down his deal: He’ll give them what they want if they bring back the Wicked Witch of the West’s broomstick.

Left with no other option, Dorothy and Co. head into the forest after the witch, and here I want us to pause for a moment and look at where we are in the story.

For one thing, this is kind of a weird structure for a movie. The setup is fine, a girl finding themselves in a magical world is a normal fantasy format. The main antagonist was introduced quite some time ago, but she hasn’t really been too much of a threat until now. We got a few reminders to let us know she’s still in the movie, but we’re really just now getting to see the main ‘conflict’, Dorothy vs. the Witch, and we’re really close to the end of the movie.

It almost seems like we’re just now entering third act climax after a very long first act of rising tension/inciting incident. It feels as though we’ve skipped right over a second act. The quest to defeat the witch, which in other stories would be starting at the end of the first act, is at the beginning of the third.

The ‘quest’ wasn’t even for Dorothy’s own sake. She’s doing this because the Wizard is giving her no other choice. Dorothy isn’t a fantasy hero in the normal sense. She just wants to get home, and there’s no sense of ‘good vs. evil’ struggle in this film.

So where are we in the story? Where we are right now is a scared, but determined, little girl doing whatever it takes to get home, with three friends and her dog at her side, marching into the woods to kill the Wicked Witch of the West, a powerful woman who’s been trying to get at her this whole movie.

The Witch’s horde of flying monkeys arrives in the forest, carrying Dorothy and Toto off, mauling the Scarecrow, and subduing the Lion and Tin Man.

Once in the Witch’s castle, threatened with her dog’s death, Dorothy agrees to let the Witch have the slippers, but wouldn’t you know it, the slippers won’t come off her feet. Enraged, the Witch locks Dorothy in a tower with an hourglass that is counting down time until the Witch kills her. (The reason she didn’t do it right away is that ‘these things must be done delicately’. Maybe she needed a spell or something to do it with the Ruby Slippers on her.) During her imprisonment, she is shown images of her aunt, worriedly calling out for her.

Meanwhile, Toto gets away and rushes to fetch help: the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Lion. After putting the Scarecrow back together and surmising what must have happened, the trio immediately decide to go rescue Dorothy.

In a display of brainlessness, heartlessness, and gutlessness, they sneak into the Witch’s castle to save their friend, beating up three guards and taking their uniforms in the process. Seconds before the hourglass runs out, the Tin Man finally gets to use his axe and chops down the door to the room Dorothy is locked inside. Their reunion is cut short, however, by the Witch and her guards, who, after a brief chase, manage to corner them.

The Witch gleefully informs Dorothy that the Witch intends to kill them all, one by one, saving Dorothy for last. Making good on her promise, she sets the Scarecrow on fire, which, as previously stated, is the one thing that can really kill him.

Horrified, Dorothy grabs a nearby Deus Ex Bucket of Water and douses the Scarecrow, putting him out and saving his life. In the process, the Witch gets soaked too, and let’s be honest, you all know what happens next.

“You cursed brat! Look what you’ve done! I’m melting! Melting! Oh, what a world! What a world! Who would have thought a good little girl like you could destroy my beautiful wickedness…”

So the Witch vaporizes away, leaving Dorothy and Co. stunned and surrounded by the Witch’s guards, who thank Dorothy profusely for murdering their leader. They gladly give them the broomstick they were sent after, and the gang immediately heads back to the Emerald City, full of joy and confidence.

Once they arrive back in the Wizard’s presence, however, he immediately begins wavering on his deal, telling them to come back tomorrow.

Dorothy, having recently (if accidently) vanquished the most feared person in all of Oz, is having none of it. She stands up to the Wizard and is just setting in on giving him a piece of her mind before Toto rushes to an ignored corner of the room, pulling back a concealing fabric and revealing a scared little man behind the curtain, working frantically at his machinery in an attempt to draw their attention away from him.

The man (also Frank Morgan) admits the truth: he is the Wizard of Oz, and has no wonderful powers whatsoever, but he does stave off their anger with a few items from our world, where he is apparently from. To the Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Lion, he bestows gifts that officially grant them the traits they were ‘lacking’.

A diploma, medal, or clock won’t get Dorothy home, however, but the Wizard has an idea. He arrived in Oz several years ago by a decidedly less fantastic way than Dorothy had: he had come by hot air balloon, and it just so happens that it is in perfect condition. The Wizard decides that it is time for him to go home as well, and offers to take Dorothy with him. Of course she accepts.

However, while the departure is taking place, there is a scuffle involving Toto and a cat, and the balloon takes off with the Wizard, but not Dorothy. The girl is now in complete despair about ever getting back to Kansas, and even though she’d be welcome in the Emerald City, she’s coming to the realization that there’s no place like home.

Cue Deus Ex Glinda.

The Good Witch arrives in their midst and tells Dorothy something that probably would have been helpful before if not for The Plot: The Ruby Slippers that Dorothy has been wearing could have taken her home any time she wanted, simply by clicking her heels and saying ‘There’s no place like home’.

(I wish I had a pair of those. That’d make social gatherings much less uncomfortable.)

Dorothy tearfully wishes her friends goodbye and with Toto in tow, follows Glinda’s instructions and wakes up in familiar, gray Kansas, surrounded by her aunt, uncle, farmhands, and Professor Marvel. It was all Just A Dream.

Contrived? Maybe. Or maybe not.

A lot of people have quite a few problems with the ending of the Wizard of Oz (besides the Scarecrow’s math slipup, which we aren’t addressing today). For example, if Glinda knew the slippers did that this whole time, why send Dorothy on this dangerous adventure and have her murder a Witch?

(Or maybe it was Manslaughter. It was accidental, after all.)

For a while, I subscribed to the theory of it just being an easy way to end the story. In the original book, the Good Witch who sends Dorothy off and the Good Witch who helps her get home are two different people. I just assumed that the scriptwriters just crammed them into one person, didn’t realize the Adaptation Induced Plothole, and just hoped no one would notice. (I didn’t like this movie for much of my childhood, and I was rather cynical towards it.)

However, when I watched it again, I had another thought.

First off, this entire adventure was a dream, and if we can accept talking lions, scarecrows, and men made out of tin, we can sure as heck accept the fact that Dorothy’s subconscious wasn’t thinking of a plot-sensible way to get home.

Secondly, and more important thematically, this way home matters to Dorothy’s journey. In the beginning of the first act, we see Dorothy’s desperation to be elsewhere, somewhere where her dreams come true, somewhere brighter and Better than Kansas. And then she gets her wish.

For any other fantasy hero, this would be amazing. She immediately is hailed as a hero and makes three good friends, defeats a villain, and has the opportunity to stay behind in this magical land where she has learned so much. But what does Dorothy say at the end?

“If I ever go looking for my heart’s desire again, l won’t look any further than my own backyard, because if it isn’t there I never really lost it to begin with.”

Right from the beginning, as we’ve mentioned, all she wants is to go back home, to be with her family and friends, and to be content with the life she had. Her ‘Hero’s Journey’ isn’t learning to strike out on her own and be Independent. Her ‘Hero’s Journey’ is gaining the same things her friends did: brains, heart, and courage.

She proves her own intelligence, her own caring, and most importantly, her own bravery. She learns agency. In the beginning of the story, she is helpless, running away from her life because the adults in her life are unable to help her. The story of Dorothy is of being able to affect where you are in life, not by escaping, but by dealing with your problems yourself.

By initially going to the Wizard to be sent home and finding out she had the ability to do it herself, Dorothy realizes that she has power and agency in her own life, and that she can’t, and shouldn’t, totally rely on others to fix her problems. So in a way, it makes sense that she had to go through all of that before she could go home.

By the same token, she’s also learned that she belongs with her family at the moment. Dorothy is still a child, and does spend a good deal of the movie worrying especially about her aunt. Where she begins the movie feeling swept aside by her family, Dorothy realizes how much she cares about and needs family and friends in her life. She has learned to be self-sufficient, but not alone.

That’s a pretty good message for a kid, and indeed, for people of all ages. With that in mind, it makes a lot of sense that people have kept coming back to this film for its heartwarming story. There’s a reason this movie is a classic, after all.

In the upcoming articles, we’ll be taking a look at some more of the fascinating facets that make up The Wizard of Oz, so please, stay tuned for next time! Thank you all so much for reading and feel free to message me with your own thoughts. I hope to ‘see’ you in the next article!

#The Wizard of Oz #The Wizard of Oz 1939 #1939 #30s #Film #Movies #Fantasy #Adventure #PG #Judy Garland #Margaret Hamilton #Frank Morgan #Ray Bolger #Jack Haley #Bert Lahr #Billie Burke #Victor Fleming

7 notes · View notes

sansa-of-oldstones · 5 years

Text

@jonsa-week : Day 2 : Tropes

Arranged Marriage (canon divergent)

Three weeks after her sixteenth nameday, Sansa’s parents travel to King’s Landing. The intent of this trip is to visit her father’s sister, Lyanna.

Lyanna has lived in King’s Landing since before Sansa was born. She’s never heard the entire story, but from what Sansa can gather, it was an ordeal. Sansa’s uncle and grandfather were killed. So was Lyanna’s husband. He was defeated in battle by Robert Baratheon, her father’s good friend. Lyanna lives in King’s Landing because she believes it is what is best for her son, Jon. Sansa has not met either of them.

So, it comes as a complete shock when her mother shares that Sansa is to marry Jon.

Arranged marriages are common in Westeros, but it isn’t at all what Sansa would choose. She dreams of marrying someone who truly loves her. Instead, she is marrying Jon to mend relations between the north and south. It makes her feel used and cast away. She has very little say in the matter, and this upsets her the most.

She thought her parents would care more about what she wants. They do not, as far as she is concerned. Jon is the king’s beloved half brother, and this is what will make them all happy. It doesn’t matter if she is happy. Even her brother Robb believes she should consider herself lucky to not have been promised to someone before this. Only Arya shares her outrage.

Sansa makes a promise to herself then and there. If she ever has a daughter, her daughter will be allowed to make her own choices. Within reason, of course.

She does not speak to her parents for nearly a month, but this does not stop Lyanna and Jon from visiting. Mother and son ride in on horseback, and are met by the Winterfell Starks at the East Gate.

All of the stories Sansa heard throughout her lifetime were true. Lyanna is quite beautiful, an older version of Arya. She steps down from her horse with an elegant ease, and hugs Sansa’s father.

Jon inherited much of his mother’s looks, with his dark curls and gentle smile. She might even think him handsome, under different circumstances. Sansa did not bother to ask much about him before his arrival, but he seems to be of an age with Robb. A bit smaller, but just as strong. A boy who works in the stables takes care of their horses, and Jon shakes her father’s hand before other introductions are made. Sansa remembers her courtesies, and does not embarrass her parents.

Jon is quiet, but polite. As is expected, she sits beside him at the feast that evening. He makes conversation with Sansa and her siblings, and she actually begins to enjoy herself.

Jon stands when she does, and he offers Sansa his arm. Perhaps her mother is right, and he will make a fine husband.

“Could you show me the godswood?” He requests while they walk the grounds. “My mother speaks so fondly of it. There’s one in the Red Keep, but it feels all wrong. Like a plant that didn’t take to being repotted.”

“You keep the old gods?”

“Along with the new.” He nods, allowing her to guide his steps. “I gravitate towards the old gods, I will admit to you.”

Yes, they will keep each other’s secrets, as husbands and wives do. They sit by the lake within the wood, like she has seen her parents do many times.

Jon observes the godswood with contemplative reverence. She does enjoy his company, but there seems to be much more on his mind than he wishes to say.

“I do think I will like it here.” He surprises Sansa with his words. Does he mean while he is visiting, or something else?

“Do you plan for us to live in King’s Landing?”

“We can certainly discuss it, and decide together.”

“You would miss your family.”

“As would you.” He argues, calmly. “My mother wanted me to grow up with my brother and sister, and I am grateful, but they have their own families now. I’ve always felt more of a connection to this part of me. I’m looking forward to exploring it.”

“I was prepared to move.”

“Do you want to?”

“It would be exciting to experience elsewhere.”

“You’re not going to find anywhere as beautiful as it is here.” Jon tells her. “People think it dreary, but trust me, dreary is a hazy day in King’s Landing when the air is so thick you can barely breathe. Up here it is easier to breathe.”

“I will take your word for it.” Sansa places her hand on top of his.

“We can travel if you’d wish.” Jon smiles, gazing over at her with those soft, kind eyes.

“That would be wonderful.”

“I know this isn’t what either of us planned.” Jon shares. “I thought I would serve in my brother’s King’s Guard, but that isn’t the life my family wants for me.”

“What do you want?”

“I want us to be happy.” Jon answers. “I’m willing to do everything in my power to make that a reality. We’ll have a great life, Sansa. I promise.”

“I do not doubt it.” Sansa clasps her hands behind her back. She desperately wants to believe him, but actions speak louder than words. He will have to show her he means to keep this promise. “It will take some time, and I want to believe you are a man of your word, but forgive me for needing proof.”

“I will prove it to you.”

They agree that there is no need to rush into marriage. They take their time getting to know each other. They travel to Riverrun, and to King’s Landing. They are very fond of each other by the time they are married a year and a half later.

#jonsa #jonsaweek #day 2 #tropes #arranged marriage #mallory writes sometimes

84 notes · View notes

avantegarda · 5 years

Text

Wonderful 1000: The Merry Misadventures of Chopin the Pig

@cherepashkadrabbles requested a tale featuring an assortment of Kiraly-von Holstadt family pets and somehow this happened. Enjoy!

It was all Anna’s fault, really.

Not Anna Király the elder—that esteemed matriarch had gone to her reward over a decade prior, though Andras insisted that her spirit still kept a watchful eye over the family, particularly around Christmas. The perpetrator this time was Anna Király the younger, aged three, the apple of her mother’s eye: a plump, auburn-haired little elf with strong opinions on absolutely everything.

The opinions, this time, were regarding the family dachshund.

“Wolfgang is sad,” Anna insisted, with a fervent tug at her mother’s skirts. “Sad sad sad.”

Marta reluctantly put down the letter she was reading—a rare missive from her friend Sophie in New York—and regarded her daughter with surprise. “What on earth do you mean, Anna darling? Wolfgang is the happiest dog in Vienna. He has lots of food and a warm bed and you and Sofia and Zoltan to play with him. He has no reason at all to be sad.”

Anna shook her head firmly. “No, he sad. Lonely. He need ‘nother dog. Or kitty.”

“He’s lo…” Marta paused, her stomach twisting in sudden worry. How exactly did Anna, still practically a baby, know that word? Was Anna lonely? It couldn’t be terribly easy to be the youngest in their family, that much was true. Sofia and Zoltan, while affectionate and kind older siblings, had a tendency to disappear into their own artistic pursuits, just as their father did; Sofia with her singing lessons and Zoltan with his drawing. Leaving little Anna...well, out.

Perhaps it wasn’t Wolfgang who needed another animal around the house.

“I’ll tell you what, darling,” Marta said slowly. “Your uncle Heini spends most of his time out in the country and he knows all sorts of animals. Perhaps he’ll have a kitten or a puppy who needs a new home.”

Andras might have some objections to another pet being brought in without warning...but at the smile on Anna’s round face Marta really couldn’t bring herself to care.

Heini’s reply was swift and enthusiastic.

Dear Marta,

I was wondering when you were going to ask me this very question. Three children and only one old dog around the place to keep them company? It’s obscene.

I have just the beast for you, too. You’re expecting a barn cat or some such, I’m sure, but I have a slightly more unusual suggestion. I’ve convinced Father to let me acquire a new kind of miniature pig from the East (I won’t bore you with all the agricultural details), and one of the sows has just produced an excellent litter of piglets. Would Anna like one? As babies they’re the size of a cat, practically, and they don’t grow to be more than two feet tall. Once he gets older he might have to spend most of his time in the back garden, but I can guarantee the children will love him.

Your affectionate brother,

Heini

“A pig?” Andras said incredulously that night, as he and Marta got into bed. “In the house? I always knew your brother was just as mad as you are but this seems like a bit much.”

“But it’ll be wonderful for the children, darling,” Marta replied. “Think what an educational experience it will be for them to have a new kind of animal to learn to take care of!”

“They’ve already got more animals than I ever had as a child. I had to make do with Erszi the pigeon, while our youngsters have Wolfgang and Nyafi and all the animals at Burg Holstadt…”

“Nyafi is a wonderful cat,” said Marta, “but she spends all her time in Pest and so the children only get to see her about half the year. And Andras, I think that…” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “I think Anna needs this. Yes, she’s still very young, but she needs something that’s hers. Why not a pig?”

Andras sighed, though it was obvious that his resistance was softening. “I still say pigs belong in the barn, not in the house. Is this one of those things that’s so lower-class it’s gone full circle and somehow become fashionable?”

“Undoubtedly.” Marta snuggled closer and planted a kiss on her husband’s cheek. “And we’ll be the most fashionable family on the Wipplingerstrasse.”

“Hmm,” said Andras wryly. “If it’s a matter of fashion, I suppose I can’t possibly refuse. Now come over here and give me a proper kiss.”

Marta grinned triumphantly as her husband pulled her into his arms. If anyone ever asked why she’d given up a title and a fortune to marry a musician—as they still occasionally did—it was moments like this that she pointed to. Every single time.

The newest member of the family arrived two weeks later, carried in a basket and delivered by a beaming Heini. It was certainly a fetching creature; small and bristly and ivory-colored with dark splotches and shining eyes. And the children, of course, were utterly enchanted by it.

“What should we call him?” six-year-old Zoltan demanded. “Should it be a Hungarian name?”

Sofia rolled her eyes. “No, silly, Nyafi the cat already has a Hungarian name. The pig needs an Austrian one.”

“But Wolfgang already has an Austrian name…”

“Well, Wolfgang is named after a composer,” Marta cut in gently. “So perhaps this little fellow should be too. Andras, what music does he make you think of when you see him?”

“He has rather melancholy eyes, doesn’t he,” said Andras. He scratched his chin thoughtfully and hummed a few bars of something slow and romantic. Both Sofia and Zoltan screwed up their faces, thinking deeply, until finally Sofia clapped her hands in triumph.

“Of course!” she cried. “Chopin! It’s perfect.”

“Well, I certainly like it,” said Marta. “But Anna should have the final say. What do you think, love?”

The entire family looked down at Anna, who was crouched by the basket softly petting the piglet’s bristles. At the sound of her name, the little girl looked up and beamed.

“Chopin,” she said. “My piggie.”

There appeared to be nothing more to say on the subject.

“I am going to make that damn creature into kolbasz,” Andras growled. “I mean it, Marta. This is the last straw.”

Marta’s eyebrows went up. “Final straw? What were the first straws?” She had to admit, the last month having Chopin as a pet had been slightly less peaceful than expected, but she hadn’t been aware of anything too terrible. Besides, the children loved him.

“Well, first of all, Anna insists on letting him sleep in her room, and he knocks everything over and chews on all her toys. And then Zoltan put paint on his hooves for some piece of art he wanted to do—is that what art is coming to in this country?—and Chopin tracked it everywhere. And now,” Andras said with bitter triumph, “he has destroyed my work.”

Marta inhaled sharply. “He hasn’t broken Clara, has he?” Though technically an inanimate object, Andras’ beloved violin had been a part of the Király family since 1861, and if something happened to her…

“No, thank God. If Chopin damaged Clara he’d be at the butcher’s shop this very minute. But what he did do isn’t much better. I have a performance in three weeks, at which I am supposed to be debuting my No. 4 in B Minor which I have been working on all week, but that creature,” said Andras grimly, “has gone and defecated on it.”

The snort of laughter that escaped her lips was one Marta immediately regretted, and at Andras’ scowl she quickly apologized. “But how did he get on top of your sheet music, darling? Was it on the floor?”

“I don’t see how it matters where my papers were,” Andras said primly (which translated to “yes, they were on the floor, due to my excessive absentmindedness”). “We need to get that thing properly trained or he’ll be going right back to the country where he belongs.”

“I’ll take care of it. Now get back to work.” Marta wagged a stern finger in her husband’s direction. “If you give a performance that isn’t a success my parents still may find a way to annul our marriage.”

It was a generally understood rule in the Király household that when Andras was in his study composing, he was only to be disturbed in the event of an emergency. This was less because it would annoy him and more because when he was focused on music, he was temporarily incapable of thinking about anything else.

All of this was to say that, when Sofia cautiously entered the study shortly before dinner on Saturday, it was clearly a matter of some concern.

“Papa?” she asked. And, when her father neglected to look up, a bit louder: “Pa?”

Andras, whose world for the past two hours had consisted entirely of the concerto he was writing, jolted out of his reverie to find his hands nearly black with ink and a worried-looking eight-year-old staring at him. “What’s the matter, Sofia?”

“Have you seen Zoltan?” Sofia blurted out.

“Sofia, your brother will be holed up in his bedroom or out in the garden. Is this really…”

“He’s not, though. I’ve looked everywhere, he’s missing.” Sofia sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “And it’s all my fault. The von Braumark twins came for a visit today and Zoltan wanted to play with us but Lottie said he couldn’t because he’s a boy and Liesel and I went along with it and he was so upset, and after the twins left I went to find him to say sorry and he’s gone.”

Having grown up with three temperamental younger sisters, Andras was quite accustomed to children going missing and then reappearing at the oddest of times. Therefore the news of Zoltan’s evident disappearance was no cause to panic.

Not yet, anyway.

Two hours later, through concentrated search efforts and several hastily dispatched messages, the Királys had been able to establish a list of places where Zoltan was not.

He wasn’t anywhere in the house or back garden.

He was not at his grandparents’ house (as far as anyone could tell, though the von Holstadt mansion had eighty rooms and it took considerable time to search all of them).

He was not at the homes of any of their family friends, nor was he in the nearby park.

And while all of this information was technically useful, it was not making Marta and Andras any less worried.

“I don’t want to call the police, but I think we might have to,” said Andras, pacing back and forth across the sitting room floor as he had been for the last ten minutes. “How else are we supposed to track the wretched boy down?”

Anna, who was crouched on the floor patting Chopin, looked up eagerly. “Chopin can find him.”

“Anna, darling,” Marta sighed. “Chopin is a very nice pig but I don’t think…”

“No, Mama, she’s right. Pigs have a good sense of smell, even better than dogs,” said Sofia. “And they’re very clever too. If we give him something of Zoltan’s to smell, and then we follow him…” She trailed off, looking up at her parents hopefully.

Marta and Andras looked at each other for a long moment, until finally Marta sighed and nodded. “I suppose it’s worth a try.”

The five (four and a half?) of them made a rather odd sight on the rainy Viennese streets: Andras holding both Anna and a bright red umbrella, Marta clutching Sofia’s hand and Chopin’s lead. A proper traveling circus, that’s what they were. Marta would have found the situation more amusing had she not been scared out of her wits.

Chopin, at least, seemed to have understood his instructions. After getting a good whiff of Zoltan’s nightshirt he appeared to recognize the boy’s scent and was now trotting along briskly, pausing occasionally to snuffle at the ground. If he actually found Zoltan, Marta decided, she would feed him the finest scraps to be found anywhere in the city.

Finally, after what seemed like hours but was probably only ten minutes, Chopin halted in his tracks at the imposing gothic facade of St. Maria’s am Gestade. He snuffled at the ground for a moment as though confirming a suspicion, and then grunted with satisfaction.

“Is it sacrilegious to bring a pig into a church?” Marta inquired.

“If we’re looking for a missing child, then I’d say we’ll be forgiven,” Andras replied. “And this door had better be unlocked.”

It was, thank goodness. And when Marta’s eyes had adjusted to the gloom, she detected, in one of the front pews, a small dark-haired figure sitting completely still.

“Zoltan!”

The little boy looked up in surprise as his family all but ambushed him. “Mama? Papa? Chopin? What time is it?”

“Past time for you to be home! I am so glad you’re safe.” Marta pulled her son into a tight hug before pulling back with a frown. “But darling, what on earth are you doing here?”

“I like that painting,” Zoltan replied, pointing up at the glorious gold-hued altarpiece. “It always makes me feel better. So I thought I would come and sit here until I stopped being cross with Sofia.” He looked down at his feet and kicked his legs guiltily. “But it was naughty to run away, wasn’t it.”

“Very naughty,” Marta said, with considerably less sternness than she intended. “You’re lucky that we found you.”

“No, Chopin find him,” Anna insisted from Andras’ arms.

“Chopin was brilliant,” gushed Sofia. “Pa, you like him now, don’t you? You won’t have him made into sausages?”

Andras let out an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose so, but I expect you lot to keep him in line. Train him up. No feral pigs in my house, if you please.”

As the children launched into a debate about what tricks, if any, Chopin could be trained to do, Marta reached down and scratched the piglet gently between the ears. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I knew you were worth the trouble.”

While none of the other members of the family would believe her, Marta insisted that Chopin replied to this with a very cheeky wink.

#it's tooo loonnggg #but here tis #wonderful 1000 #my writing #unshakeable #we stan chopin the mini pig

14 notes · View notes