#Forest Bathing Techniques

[anielskaaniela]

Healing Power of Shinrin-Yoku: Explore Forest Bathing

In this post , you will learn on Shinrin-yoku – forest bathing. Check out my japanese products [here]. In today’s fast-paced world, finding moments of peace and connection with nature is increasingly important. Shinrin-Yoku, or forest bathing, is a practice that goes beyond just walking in the woods. It’s about immersing oneself in the forest atmosphere and mindfully engaging with the natural…

[silk-fl0wers]

"Moments with them"

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Characters: Kaeya, Diluc, Albedo, Zhongli, Tartaglia, Kazuha, Thoma, Arataki Itto, Tighnari, Al-Haitham

Warning(s): None

Genre: Fluff

Summary: What kind of random moments happen with the men?

> GnReader!

❅ ᴋᴀᴇʏᴀ

: ̗̀➛ If horses were still a thing in Mondtadt, he would've loved to take you horse riding in Whispering forest and near the shore lines of Windrise. You could have your own horse to ride on but he would like it much better if you rode with him instead - he wants to feel your arms around his waist and your face leaning on his shoulder - to keep you safe incase of any random ambush, the cavalry captain has to make sure no harm happens to his significant other otherwise his title would be of no point to have.

: ̗̀➛ There's just some days where he just wants to be genuine with you like showing a smile that goes all the way to his cheeks and to the point where they end up hurting a lot or either it being where he spills out his emotions and feelings little by little. It's not a lot but it's a sign to show that he trusts and loves you a lot to let you know these little secrets of his that he doesn't tell anyone.

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❅ᴅɪʟᴜᴄ

: ̗̀➛ Whenever the grapes are ready to be plucked from thier vines for wine making, you convince him to let you join even though in reality he would never decline you of helping as long as there's nothing that can harm you. Adelinde and Elzer will also be out giving a hand so if you feel like going back inside just give them a heads up, they'll also throw you a warm bath if you want one too.

: ̗̀➛ His body suddenly feels warmer knowing that you tend to wait for him at the front doors of the mansion whenever he's out doing his duty to protect Mondstadt at night. He doesn't wish for you to stay up really late at night knowing how long you've been waiting and that you should've gone to bed without him but it generally warms him up how you have chosen yourself to patiently wait for him to come back to know that he's at least okay.

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❅ ᴀʟʙᴇᴅᴏ

: ̗̀➛ Taking notes of his observations - studies of abyssal mobs, primordial Albedo, Durin, the traveller, the known and the unknown - hung up on the boards in his lab all soon to be the known if he can solve them. You find his viewings and studies engrossing. If you find them interesting then he wouldn't mind to tell you about them and what he had conjered up so far. Doing this also starts to have an effect on him, he now feels a warm sensation inside knowing that his significant other loves to hear him chat on about his studies, more different to when he tells them to Sucrose or Timaeus.

: ̗̀➛ Due to his habbits of staying up at the latest of times to continue with his work, you would have some candy prepared in a small box and gift it to him before leaving his lab. He stated it himself at the start of the relationship that they help to give him an energy boost for when he feels like he’s starting to go off track so he’s very thankful and happy that you have gifted these to him.

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❅ ᴛᴀʀᴛᴀɢʟɪᴀ

: ̗̀➛ Helping him with babysitting Tucer if he ever comes for a visit in Liyue. He feels bad that he has to dump his responsibility of his brother on to you for some time but he wants to keep his real job a secret from him, at least when he's older enough to understand this he'll stop doing this but at the end of the day it does come with a reward for compensation of having you babysit such as having late night talks, hugs, kisses, cuddles or dinner. He even slips out a little apology his actions.

: ̗̀➛ If you're good at weapons, mainly the bow, he'd be pleading you to help him and to teach some techniques of yours to help him really master the art of the bow. You'd help him with his posture and aiming, doing the thing where your hands are over his and guiding his arms to a better position to get a more precise shot of the training dummy in front of you two.

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❅ ᴢʜᴏɴɢʟɪ

: ̗̀➛ Gives you some of Liyue's specialities, more so of the Cor Lapis. Whenever he gifts them to you on a date or on any special occasion, he likes to tell you the backstory about that speciality and give little facts. He probably knows himself about how much he does talk during these so forgive him if he does end up talking your ear off too much, he can't help it and genuinely wants to share off his knowledge to you. His beloved significant other.

: ̗̀➛He finds it entertaining how you also try to get along with his other friends and cared ones like Ganyu, Cloud Retainer, Mountain Shaper, Moon Carver, Madame Ping and Xiao. Few of them are harder to befriend and will take some time but for ones like Ganyu and Madame Ping the three of you have become good acquaintances and will every so often invite you to have some tea and food over a relaxing chat. Zhongli very much loves you a lot, it wasn't required to friend them just because he has some relation to them but you chose to so it makes him really delighted.

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❅ ᴋᴀᴢᴜʜᴀ

: ̗̀➛Accompanying him to go on a walk near the shores of Guyun Stone Forest for a break while Beidou and the other Crux members party on the Alcor. The walk is breezy, cheering and laughter is heard throughout the forest from the Alcor, light sounds of the birds calling to each other from above and the rustles of the vines and bushes against each other. The two of you sitting next to each other, his hands in yours, chatting about whatever you want to.

: ̗̀➛ When stopping by at Inazuma, he always goes to the spot north-east of the Grand Narukami Shrine to pay his respects to his long-term friend Tomo and to the cat that would always be inside of his kimono. Whether you know him or not but still pays your respect to his old friend Kazuha cannot help but show a small smile on to his face. He also may have sometimes came here without you and talk to the blade stuck in stone all about you, how you met and how wonderful you are. He knows Tomo would've liked you a lot if he was still here.

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❅ ᴛʜᴏᴍᴀ

: ̗̀➛He catches you on a late night enjoying the company of the animals around the city and feeding them little treats. He hasn't moved from his spot yet because he's admiring you from just behind a tree, he doesn't mean to look like a creep but he wants to take some time to allow for his brain to keep this moment before joining you in your late night activity, that is if you don't mind of course.

: ̗̀➛If you do happen to know how to knit or crochet then you can imagine yourself already making some small sweaters and toys for the tamed animals around the main city. Just the two of you enjoying your favourite drinks and sinking into the pleasure and cosiness of the room and the chat the two of you have between yourselves. It's not a lot but Thoma really enjoys this, just him and his love making things for animals, what else could he wish for?

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❅ ᴀʀᴀᴛᴀᴋɪ ɪᴛᴛᴏ

: ̗̀➛ The one and oni allows for you to paint and polish his horns, paint it any colour you wish for cause he doesn't mind it one bit since he loves the care and attention you have on his horns. Later on he's already running to the gang and Shinobu about his horn colour and how you were the one who did this masterpeice.

: ̗̀➛ Speaking about the gang, he also loves how you treat them. The citizens of Inazuma do treat his gang members quite more better than they do to himself but seeing you also get along with them and their little escapades he can't help but to be very ecstatic and very chirpy, almost as if he was walking on clouds kinds feel.

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❅ ᴛɪɢʜɴᴀʀɪ

: ̗̀➛ Listening to his lectures about the native floral and mushrooms of Sumeru. He appretiates it alot that you really take note of them and put the information to use; being you telling offt the other forest trainess for eating a poisinous mushroom or genuinely because you want to chatter on about the different kinds.

: ̗̀➛When you get the permission to brush out his tail and maybe his ears if he's not dotting down notes into his book. He always seems to go into some serene like state whenever you do brush his fox features, you can see it on his face too whenever you peek over that's he's dozing off and lightly jolts up upon realising he has fallen asleep not knowing himself. Sometimes he really does go into slumber and doesn't wake up from it so you take it as your cue to carefully turn off any light sources and place a blanket on the both of you before going to join him in a peaceful slumber too.

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❅ ᴀʟ-ʜᴀɪᴛʜᴀᴍ

: ̗̀➛Despite him being reserved and closed off to most people he's quite different when it comes to you. He still has the same facial expression but his actions towards you contrasted ones he displays to others such as waving to him and he waves back or when greeting him with a wave he copies your exact motions, to a point where the others in the Sumeru gang finds it amusing that he only waves back at you only.

: ̗̀➛He also doesn't mind at all when you climb into his lap whenever he's reading and just looking at the books pages as well. He doesn't make any move or sound to show that he doesn't want you off of him so you continue to stay up until you've fallen asleep. During this, you cannot fully make it out but some weight goes on to your waist and wraps around it. You can only smile a little after guessing what he really did do was correct to your amusement.

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[studentbyday]

cheap and easy ways to romanticize your life ~it's about the little things~

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ speak to yourself lovingly. you have the potential to be your best cheerleader because your mind is the only one you can read. when you find yourself feeling down bc of automatic negative thoughts, try to think of something about the situation that is genuinely good, however small it may feel. on a similar note, every night, try to come with at least 3 good things that happened or that you felt that day. they don't have to be big things. even just the absence of smth negative is a positive. (this is still taking sm practice after getting stuck in a pessimistic habit and struggling to keep myself accountable to change it, but it's so worth it, i promise. 🥲)

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ start your day with music that puts you in the mood to...well, start your day. | personal favorites 🥰 morning coffee lofi • happy morning jazz • cozy jazz for when you don't want to think about anything

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ get cozy. 🧣 hold something soft. 🧸 savor that texture, that comfort.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ forest bathing 🌲🥰 look out your window or better yet, step outside. breathe the air. get some sunlight. look at the sky. the clouds. trees. stars and moon. all the colors. all the shapes. listen for birdsong. the crunching of snow or grass under your feet. isn't it wonderful that we get to experience all this? when i'm feeling lonely and i step outside and look for any sign of nature, i realize just how much i'm not alone and there is good in the world.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ set up a nice ambience. there are many for free online that can sound as real and comforting as you want them to be for the days when indoors studying or what have you. study with me videos have literally tricked my brain into feeling like studying even if it's really just pseudo-external accountability (i can never wake up to watch them live lol).

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ you are worth taking care of. so take care of yourself. start with smth really really small like leaving a glass of water by your bedside to drink first thing after waking up. then gradually add in slightly bigger things as you feel ready like taking care of your hair (literally did not know about proper washing technique until i watched this 😵) and skin (bare minimum: cleanser, sunscreen, and moisturizer), getting enough sleep, and exercising. "true self-care is not salt baths and chocolate cake, it is making the choice to build a life you don’t need to regularly escape from."

[dasenergi]

it’s very out of the blue, but I feel like you might have an answer: do you mind sharing a way to ground or open your sacral chakra? I was told that might be something I need to work on but engaging with it eludes me

Hello, Friend,

First, let’s clarify a few concepts:

Grounding refers to becoming more centered in your body and present in the moment. It's about connecting with the earth to bring your energy down from the upper chakras and distribute it evenly throughout your body. Grounding stabilizes and connects you, forming a foundation for removing blockages and allowing energy to flow freely through your chakras.

Opening a chakra, on the other hand, is about activating and energizing the chakra.

As a reiki healer, I have worked with clients who have experienced different blockages — overactive (which can feel hot) and underactive (which can feel cold) chakras. In my experience, while reiki and sound baths can support chakra healing, the most significant progress happens when clients actively engage in their own healing process. This work requires patience, consistency, and commitment to a daily practice.

I am curious why you specifically mentioned the sacral chakra. Understanding your experience with this chakra could help identify what might be blocking it and how best to balance it. Below I will speak in broad general terms about my experience with grounding, the sacral chakra, and ways people recommend to balance it.

The Sacral Chakra: Creativity, Emotional Expression, and Sensuality

When the sacral chakra is unbalanced, it can manifest in various ways:

Emotional instability Insecurity and anxiety Addictive behaviors (overindulgence) Resentment and guilt Lack of creativity Feeling unmotivated Lack of desire

When this chakra is balanced, you feel emotionally grounded, creatively fulfilled, and physically vibrant. You are inspired, creative, sensual, passionate, playful, energetic, joyful, balanced, and connected.

Grounding Techniques When I work with clients on grounding, we usually use meditation, breathwork, and visualization.

Tree Visualization/Meditation: We hold hands, close our eyes, and synchronize our breathing. I then guide them to imagine themselves as a tree, with roots extending deep from their feet into the earth. They feel the energy from the earth rising up through their roots, stabilizing and centering them. Their arms and hands become branches reaching for the sun, feeling its nutrients invigorate them. They imagine their branches swaying in the wind, taking in carbon dioxide, and releasing oxygen back into the atmosphere. Their body is the tree trunk, feeling strong, connected, and supported — energy flowing freely.

Barefoot Walking: Another effective grounding technique is walking barefoot on natural surfaces like the earth, grass or soil. Whether it’s a walk in a park, forest, or beach, this direct connection with nature can be incredibly grounding.

Connecting with Nature: Touching nature, hugging trees, talking to plants, and listening to their responses are other powerful ways to ground. Gardening can also be a deeply grounding practice, even if its just potted plants inside of your home. If you don't have any plants, visit a plant nursery and become a plant parent. If you are nervous about being a plant parent, start-off with a small succulent. They tend to be easier to care for, although a few have died while in my care.

Physical Exercise: Physical activities like swimming, walking, or going to the gym can help ground your energy and bring awareness to your body.

Water Connection: Water is especially beneficial for grounding. Whether it is taking a dip in a stream, river, ocean, spa, swimming pool, or even a bath or shower, water can help you reconnect and stabilize your energy. Practice luxurious bathing. Water is my personal #1 healing & spiritual practice. (It is not out of the ordinary for me to take 3 showers a day.) If I don't swim every day, I feel it. I just got back from a multi-week silent meditation Buddhist retreat in the mountains, and I brought with me a glass bottle of my swimming pool water to anoint myself everyday. (I also used it to water some of the trees and plants around that I was connecting with.)

Dance: Movement is another way to ground yourself AND release blocked energy. Don’t worry about how you look—just move! Create a playlist of three songs that get your body moving, and let your body guide you. Dance as if no one is watching, allowing your intuition to lead the way. (Here is a link to a Spotify playlist of songs for intuitive dancing.)

Sensory Connection: Engage in activities that bring pleasure and engage your senses, like:

Enjoying a favorite meal mindfully. Turn off the TV and electronic devices. Close your eyes and take your time to chew slowly, savoring each flavor as it unfolds on your palate. Pay attention to the sensations of eating, how the food feels in your mouth, and how your body responds to it. Allow yourself to be fully present, appreciating the nourishment and pleasure that each bite provides.

Mindful Tea or Coffee Drinking. Make a ritual out of it. Pay attention to the sound of the water boiling, the aroma as it brews, and the warmth of the cup in your hands. Sip slowly, savoring each flavor note and texture, and allow yourself to be fully present in the experience.

Textural Exploration. Spend time exploring different textures with your hands. This could be anything from soft fabrics, like silk or velvet, to natural textures, like stones or leaves. Close your eyes and really focus on how each texture feels against your skin, allowing yourself to be absorbed in the sensation.

Opening & Balancing the Sacral Chakra involves a combination of the grounding techniques (above) and also some suggest the below:

Color and Crystals: Some believe that the sacral chakra’s association with the color orange means that eating orange foods (like oranges, carrots, mangoes, and cantaloupe) or carrying orange crystals (like Amber, Carnelian, Orange Calcite, Gold Tiger’s Eye, and Moonstone) can help balance it. This also includes wearing orange clothes, perhaps a new orange scarf or shoes? October is coming up!

Yoga Poses: While I am not trained in yoga (and only practice sporadically) certain poses are often recommended for opening the sacral chakra, such as Mountain Pose, Tree Pose, Warrior Pose, Crescent Pose, Goddess Pose, Forward Bend, Bound Angle Pose, Triangle Pose, Pigeon Pose, and Butterfly Pose. Aromatherapy: Mindful breathing with scents. Using essential oils like jasmine, sandalwood, ylang-ylang, orange, or patchouli can also support sacral chakra healing.

Creativity: Expressing yourself creatively is key to sacral chakra health. Write, draw, paint—let your creative energy flow. Even if you are not feeling particularly inspired, just start. A single brush stroke or word on a page can lead to more. Make creativity a daily practice, whether it is doodling, writing a sentence, or something else.

And probably the most important recommendation on how to balance your sacral chakra—

Emotional Exploration: Since the sacral chakra is closely tied to your emotions, consider exploring any underlying emotional issues or traumas that might be contributing to the imbalance. Journaling daily, therapy, or talking with someone you trust can be powerful tools in this process.

Even though I tried to be as thorough as possible above, I should note that I am NOT actually an expert in the chakras. I disagree with the common western belief that there are only seven chakras. I believe that there are A LOT more. Each finger has at least four! Chakras are energy vortexes. And I have a lot of opinions about them.

But like I mentioned above, doing the grounding work that I mentioned along with a daily practice, should help you.

If you want to come off Anon and send a personal message, I will be happy to provide more thoughts on the subject specific to your circumstance.

[aegon-targaryen]

Ghosts That We Knew

Zelink Week Day 2: Fading | TP Zelink | read on AO3) | @zelinkcommunity

Link dreamed of a golden wolf.

He bounded through a forest of mist, weaving through the towering trees that stood guard over this ancient place. Link’s paws kicked up leaves as he raced to catch up. Snatches of sound caught his attention from time to time—music, voices, a child’s giggle—but he kept to his course.

Yet the bright coat of his quarry disappeared from view, and when he slowed to a halt, he found himself in a clearing he would recognize anywhere. A sword waited at its center. He was padding forward to answer its call when the golden wolf emerged from the fog, his single eye glowing with crimson sorrow.

Turn back, he said with all the terrible gravity of time. Go and do not falter, my child.

Link sat up sharply, grasping his surroundings with the speed of someone shaped by deadly times: Ordon, safety, a sword within reach, Zelda in his bed.

Zelda in his bed. A foolish grin tugged at his lips. They’d spent plenty of nights together in the castle, but something about having her here was so enthralling. She was stirring now, rolling over to face him, and he tried to wipe the stupid look off his face.

“Link?” she mumbled sleepily. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“Just a weird dream,” he assured her, laying back down under the dark oaken ceiling of his treehouse. Dawn and the journey back to Castle Town were still a few hours away. As always, a part of him longed to stay, but at least he would take with him the memory of Zelda dancing under the harvest festival lanterns, of Ordon welcoming her the same way they’d welcomed Link when he was only a lost little boy.

“I had one too,” Zelda said. “The scribe’s meeting minutes transformed into a Chu that terrorized my Council.”

He laughed. “You would dream about meeting minutes.”

“Now tell me about yours. It’s only fair.”

Go and do not falter, my child. Those words had been with Link when he dealt Ganondorf the ending blow, the final mercy, just like he’d been taught. “Well…did I ever tell you about the Hero’s Shade?”

“I don’t believe so.”

“He was a spirit, I guess. Sometimes a wolf, sometimes a skeleton in armor. He brought me into some…other realm and taught me some of his techniques.”

“The Hero’s Shade,” Zelda mused. “He called himself that?”

Link frowned, trying to remember. “I’m not sure. But it felt right to me.”

She was quiet for some time, though he could practically hear the gears of her mind turning. Eventually she reached through the darkness to touch his cheek and said, “Can you go back to sleep? Or shall we take a walk?”

Wide awake now, he followed her outside, where the harvest moon bathed the sleeping village in its silver glow. Other than the crickets singing in the tall grass, Ordon was quiet in a way Castle Town never was. Link loved his tiny room above Telma’s bar and his work in the Resistance; he’d even grown to love Hyrule Castle, because Zelda was there. But coming home was always like drawing his first breath after days underwater.

They passed by their sleeping horses and continued on to the Light Spirit’s spring. This place always felt different at night, cast in a strange glow unlike either the sun’s heat or the moon’s gleam. Zelda’s boots sank into the white sand as she wandered along the water’s edge.

“I know you don’t like to be called Hero,” she said quietly. “But—you are aware there was one before you?”

“Yeah.” Link had worn his tunic, carried his weapons, walked in his footsteps. “I figured the Shade had something to do with him.”

“He lived hundreds of years ago, but perhaps some part of him…lingered, as ghosts sometimes do.”

He’d seen plenty of ghosts as a wolf, but only one had spoken to him. Without asking a single question, the Shade understood who Link was and what he needed to learn. He’d understood the enemy, too. “He faced Ganondorf, didn’t he? Before the Sages sent him to the Twilight Realm?”

“Yes. The hero’s story is largely forgotten across Hyrule, but he was close with an ancestor of mine. She kept a journal, if you’d like to know more.”

Link couldn’t help but remember the curse Ganondorf had uttered with his last breath: The history of light and shadow will be written in blood. There had been so much weight to those words, a sense of that history reaching back further than Link could conceive, a sense that it would continue long past his lifetime.

The full force of it felt suddenly awful here in this spring, where fate had come roaring out of the forest to claim him last year, where he’d returned as a wolf and killed his first shadow beast in the same spot where Ilia used to bathe Epona. His predecessor had been hurt in the same way. All that sorrow had been evident in his rusted armor, his heavy sword, his single crimson eye.

Yet he hadn’t been alone. Link looked at Zelda and remembered hearing her name in passing as a child, thinking to himself: I know her. Remembered meeting her eyes in that tower, feeling like the sun had broken through stifling twilight to clear away any doubt: I know her.

“There was another you,” he breathed. “And there was another me.”

Her brow creased thoughtfully, such a familiar expression that his heart twisted in his chest. “I hadn’t thought about it that way, but…yes.”

“It happened before. Will it happen again?”

Zelda drew closer, glowing like magic in the spring’s unearthly light, her dark hair spilling loose over her white nightgown. She touched the scar on Link’s cheek and said softly, “Not for a long time, I hope. But if it does, we will face it together.”

.

.

.

After breakfast came the hardest part of home: saying goodbye. While Uli stuffed Link’s saddlebags with as many snacks as possible, Beth tried to convince Zelda to bring her back to the castle and make her a princess. Rusl lost the battle with his wriggling toddler and handed her to Link, who was happy to bounce her up and down on his hip until she settled.

“She likes you more than me,” Rusl grumbled.

“Hey,” Link said, tapping the Triforce on the back of his left hand. “I already had this when you found me in Faron, right?”

Rusl raised his eyebrows. “Yes. Are you wondering about your birth parents?”

“It’s all right if you are,” Uli said, pausing her struggle with the saddlebags. “I only wish we were able to find you some answers.”

Link was wondering more about the wheels of time, the Goddesses who spun them, and an ancient ghost who called him my child. “No,” he answered, ruffling his little sister’s hair before he handed her back to Rusl. “You gave me everything I needed.”

Uli inspected his face with a smile, then turned to hug Zelda, who accepted the embrace with her slow smile—the kind that bloomed so uncertainly across her face, as though she was afraid someone would come and take it away. But she held onto it this time, beaming at Link over Uli’s shoulder, and the sight made him happy enough to lessen the pain of leaving.

.

.

.

Tucked away in a forgotten corner of Hyrule Castle was a graveyard accessible only to those who knew its secrets—at least, that was what Zelda said as she waved the illusory entrance away. It felt like stepping into a different realm blanketed by silence and thick grey mist, where there had just been sunlight and clear skies on the other side of the wall.

Since the Twilight, the crooked headstones had been straightened and the rubble cleared away. The thought of her coming here alone to weave her magic through her family’s resting place made Link proud and sad in equal measure.

“I’ve…actually been here,” he admitted sheepishly. “I was looking for a key to get me inside the castle, so…I burrowed under the wall. Sorry.”

Zelda’s mouth twitched. “Don’t be. My mother, at least, would have found that amusing.”

She halted under an enormous oak tree, its branches reaching far enough to brush the courtyard’s stone walls. Link still remembered the words inscribed on the tombstone, because they’d itched at the back of his mind on his first visit: The cursed swordsman sleeps beneath the sacred tree.

“He’s buried here?”

“I don’t believe so,” Zelda replied, pulling a weathered book from the pocket of her cloak and flipping through until she found a certain page and handed it over. “This is what my ancestor wrote.”

All they found were broken pieces of his armor, the journal said. People keep telling me he could have survived. But I am old enough to prefer hard truths over false hope. He’s gone. I know it in my soul. 

Tears sprang to Link’s eyes. “Where did he die, then?”

Far away, said a voice that creaked like the branches of the old oak, and they turned to find the golden wolf behind them, his image blurring and reforming into the spectral skeleton who had trained Link. Too far.

“It’s you,” Zelda breathed.

The Shade’s gaze snagged on her face as she drew closer, and he went still, his sword hanging loosely from his ruined fingers. His translucent form pulsed in and out of being with every breath. Princess, he said in a faint whisper.

Zelda had been queen for some time now, but she just smiled at him sadly. “Have you been here all this time?”

His red eye shifted to Link. I returned when the beast did. It should never have fallen on anyone else.

“No, that’s…” Link’s throat was tightening. When Zelda touched his arm, he swallowed hard and continued. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault. You made me strong enough to win.”

And now you have won. Stay the course. Leave the sword where it lies. Do not falter as I did.

“I—I never do, thanks to you.”

Stay with her, the Shade insisted. Treasure her. Be there long enough to say goodbye.

Zelda raised her head suddenly, digging around in her cloak pocket. Link only caught a brief glimpse of what she produced—a painted miniature of a golden-haired woman—before the Shade choked out a sound that was undoubtedly, devastatingly human.

“She treasured you too,” Zelda promised. “She felt you go, and knew it wasn’t your fault. She…she wrote…” Her free hand brushed Link’s, tilting the journal towards her so she could read aloud. “I buried those pieces of armor in a garden we both loved. The cursed swordsman and all the weight he carried will rest here. But the rest of him is free. I can feel him in the earth, in the wind’s song, in the beat of my heart.”

“She was right,” Link realized. “You’re what he left behind. But the beast is dead, and we’re—we’re going to be okay. You can rest now. Is that why you’re here? Because you’re ready to rest?”

The Shade stared at him in wordless disbelief.

Zelda wiped her eyes and kept reading. “Neither of us were strangers to regret—how could it be otherwise with the lives we’ve led? But we had so much sweetness, too. It was worth the sorrow. I hope he remembered that at the end.”

I did, the Shade whispered. Of course I did.

“She would want you to find peace,” Zelda told him gently.

She…she would. Yes. I believe it’s time.

His form was blurring around the edges. Link blinked hard, finally allowing his tears to fall, and searched himself for the right words to give the spirit of his predecessor, who had fought so hard and lost so much, who had returned to help him take down their common enemy.

In the end, all he could say was, “Thank you.”

The Shade looked down at the portrait, then at Link and Zelda, huddled together in the graveyard with tears in their eyes. Write a happier story, he told them as he faded slowly into the mist, replaced by a golden wolf that bounded towards freedom.

Wind gusted through the courtyard, so sudden and so strong that Link wrapped his arms around Zelda to keep them both anchored to the earth. When he raised his head, the tears had dried on his cheeks, and the Hero’s Shade was gone.

Zelda brought the portrait closer, turning it around to study the golden-haired woman. Though the only crown she wore was a simple circlet of rubies, there was something in her proud shoulders that made it clear she was a queen. Her forehead was creased with worry lines, but her smile was bright, and her eyes…

Link took Zelda’s face in his scarred hands, meeting her gaze: the color of an early morning sky, after the dawn dwindles and a new day begins. No wonder he’d known her so instantly, so naturally. And that was before he understood what it was like to love her, to be graced with the trust she found so hard to bestow, to unravel the parts of himself only she could understand.

Maybe she was thinking the same thing, for she pressed a soft kiss to the scar on his cheek.

“I wouldn’t choose anything else,” Link breathed when he finally found his voice. “I—no matter what happened before, or what happens next…”

“I wouldn’t either.” Zelda held the portrait close to her heart, and though her eyes were her ancestor’s, that small, precious smile he’d first fallen in love with was all her own. “She was right. It was worth the sorrow.”

.

.

.

[princessamahle]

a tour of the hashira's estates… part 2

Tengen: Tengen and his wives are unfornately short due to not much shown in their inhabitants

Here's what we do know: He lives out south. He lives out near the mountains. There is a possible explanation as many things have happened

Number 1: He may have lived near the entertainment district as he is familiar with people brothels and its resources and economy. But after it was destroyed he may had to go into hiding as he needed to recover his wounds with his wives. We didn't see him again after 3 months.

Number 2: He has a craving for hot springs… And where can he dig one? in the forest of course! in Demon slayer one winged butterfly novel he had zenitsu with the help of inosuke dig out a hot springs for his training. Tengen loves a good bath with many of earth's nutrients to heal his wounds.And feels his wives deserve just as much. He's even shown going again after the defeat of muzan with his wives and giyu being a constant visitor.

number 3: The wives tend to use many outdoor cooking supplies to get lunch done during the day. its possible this was due to the hashira training they had to support but also they had quite alot of slayers to feed and assist. This is why they have a shed to place all the cooking ware. the only problem with this logic is that when tanjiro went to other hashiras they all had their training at their estates minus gyomei who is use to outdoor activity. Even sanemi had aloud the slayers to stay on his estate for his gruesome training. And their estates are very huge.

The only explanation I could think of is due to how he grew up and that ninjas tend to live very humble lives. Many ninjas were from low-ranking backgrounds, including farmers and villagers, and were not part of the nobility. They were often hired as mercenaries and learned to fight using stealth and poison to protect themselves. Ninjas were also known for their survival skills and guerrilla fighting techniques. Tengen tends to keep this hospitality but still wants to lead a flashy superior life to it.

so i'm giving tengen a 2 out of 5. While it is nice to know he probably has a smaller estate we have not truly seen it. But guest would enjoy the lovely forest scenery and hotsprings.

[punks-never-die205]

Honeysuckle: Red

afab!reader x Vampire!Eustass Kid

cw: Vampire AU with blood, violence, gore, some very marginally dubious consent, 18+ only

Summary: Vampires are real, and the World Government has ways of maintaining the balance of power and peace between humans and Vampires. Most of it is simple extortion, but one person's desire for freedom threatens to upend the delicate balance and change the world completely.

Tag List: @keiva1000

Chapter 1: Seeing Red

The bright light of the moon is enough to run by, but if you can see, then they can see you. Your feet are steady beneath you, and your breathing is under control. You’d rather find a place to hide and let them wear themselves out, but it’s too bright. You need to keep moving as quickly and as silently as you can.

You weren’t practiced at running through the woods like this, but you had done your best. Immature prisoners like you were ignored most of the day, so you had set up your room as an obstacle course. For ages you had run around in as big a circle as you could, leaping over furniture and exercising for hours a day by the time you felt you were ready.

No one had ever escaped.

No one had ever tried, as far as you knew.

For prisoners, you were treated well. Large living areas, private baths, a steady supply of media and clothing, and you even got to socialize with the others. You were fed well, educated, and cared for. Everything that was needed for a good life was provided.

Everything except freedom.

The one thing you longed for that no book could sate, that no food could dampen, that no drink or promise could dissuade.

You let the moonlight sink into your soul as you ran. You felt your body exalt in the pleasure of running, you reveled in the burn of your lungs, and sting of exertion in your muscles. To move your body and move through the world was a pleasure you hadn’t known until tonight.

Twenty years of life. Two thousand, nine hundred and twenty days of preparations, of secrecy, of duplicity, of tenacity. Eight long years dedicated to a single goal. If you were caught you would never be left unsupervised ever again. It was possible they would disable you so you couldn’t even walk.

Capture was not an option. You would run like this again tomorrow, and the day after, and any day after that when you wanted to. That was the goal.

Freedom meant you would do what you wanted, and if that brought you to the end of your days, then so be it. No one in your position ever died free. They never died young. Protection paid for in blood – a cost and a benefit exchanged without question.

Without consent.

Without freedom.

Moonlight shimmered across the forest floor and the unnatural reflection catches your attention. Smoothed stones, a proper path. The very beginnings of one, but just beyond the thin under brush you could see it.

Veering toward it, you step lightly on the stones. You had mashed mud and clay onto the soles of your shoes long before now. Anything to make you quieter as you ran. You had used the technique to muffle your running in your own room as well, so you hadn’t even needed to adjust when you had ran away earlier.

The thick muck and mud on your shoes wasn’t enough to muffle your steps completely at the stones became more and more well-defined. You slow your steps, choosing silence over speed as the path became more of a path. The tress and underbrush you would’ve used to cover yourself were far too sparse anyway.

The trees pulled back away from the stones and the moonlight washed over you completely. You took in a deep breath. Somehow the pale moonlight felt warm and comforting.

Continuing down the pathway, you realize that the area around you is less wild and more cultivated. Care was being taken with the plants around you, and there was a pattern and conscious decision within the otherwise wild appearance.

The conscious decision left you with the distinct impression that visitors were not welcome.

With no signs or other warnings however, you had little reason to turn away. Hopefully, those who still pursued you, if there were any left, would assume you to be turned away by such a reception. You hadn’t heard anything behind you for some time, and you imagined that those who were after you hadn’t expected you to be physical able of getting very far.

The pathway became so smooth and well maintained it was almost like walking through the marble halls of the facility. It was a darker material, but it glinted and glimmered in the bright moonlight like pieces of black glass. The hard surface had knocked most of the mud and muck from your shoes and there were soft clicks as you approached the gate.

Agony and torture seemed to be the words for the gate, large twisted beams of metal that were functionally capable of being decorated with bodies. At least, you assume so, given the terrible hooked ends, and the blackened metal that seemed to suck the moonlight into it, instead of reflecting it.

Despite the gruesome appearance, it took barely a finger to swing the well-balanced gate open, and you step through.

The manor before you was as intimidating as everything else you had come across, but there was something oddly welcoming in that intimidation. The facility that you grew up in had been designed as a lure, and its allure was driven into every fine detail. Beautiful threads woven about the captives within, fine lines of shimmering webbing, more trap than trappings.

By comparison, this place was refreshing in its honesty.

Neither manor nor land wanted you to be near it, and it was likely one of the most dangerous places you could’ve stumbled upon. There were no servants moving about, but the land was well-tended, and the manor was nearly immaculate in the moonlight. As you approached the doors you realized that a place like this would need a small army to keep it maintained.

It was not the home of a Celestial Dragon, and no Noble would build a house so aggressively against visitors. You knew the name of the beast whose home you were stepping into, and you found yourself relieved.

You knock on the door, stretching to your tip toes to reach the heavy cast iron knocker that rattled the door when it slipped from your fingers. Seconds slip into minutes, and you feel yourself uncomfortable with how exposed you suddenly feel. Trying the door knob you find it’s not locked, and push the door in, peeking your head inside.

“Hello?” You hear your voice bounce off the walls you can’t see, and step inside tentatively. “I’m – I’m sorry to intrude, but, well, I don’t have much of a choice.”

Stepping inside you close the door behind you, staying near the entrance as you let your eyes adjust to the interior. There were no lights inside, at least none that reached where you were. The darkness was unsettling in its own way, but you felt safer inside than you did outside. You took the time to clean the bottom’s of your shoes off, no matter what happened, it seemed unwise to track mud through someone else’s home.

The time you needed to clean your shoes allowed the trickle of moonlight from outside reflected into the manor’s interior and reach your eyes. It was soft and subtle and it took many long minutes before you manage to adjust to the diffused light.  The outlines of furniture, walls, doors and stairs began to fill your vision, though if you looked around too quickly it all blurred together easily.

Taking a few tentative steps away from the doors and deeper into the hall, you looked around. Nothing moved, and aside from you, nothing breathed. Your own heart was a orchestra in your chest, and you had to slow your breathing to force it to calm down. You wanted to be able to hear, especially since your vision was so limited, and your nervous heart wasn’t helping.

“Hello? Um, again?” Your voice is barely a whisper in the silent hall, your shoes clicking thunderously loud no matter how softly you stepped. “I’m really sorry to bother you.”

Your stomach knots, but you press a little further in, turning toward a room that looks like it’s designed to accept guests. You can make out a couple couches facing one another, a coffee table between them, the shifting shape of a fireplace beyond that.

“I could really use a place to hide. J-just for a night… or day… perhaps?” You know you’re practically rambling now, but the sound of your own voice softens the sheer emptiness of the dark manor, and it’s the closest thing to comforting you have available right now.

Your fingers slip along the edges of a smallish box, and you recognize the rough sensation on one side of the box. Picking it up and sliding it, you find several long match sticks. Just enough length to light the fireplace.

“I apologize for using one of your matches without permission.” You say softly, running the match against the strike pad and flinching at the hiss and burst of light.

The small flame was enough to illuminate the room you were in, bringing relief to your straining eyes as the sucked in all the light they could, and all the details available.

There was nothing lacking in this room. The fireplace was intricately carved, detailed scenes etched and pulled from wood and metal, the shiver of the flame seemed to bring them to life. All sorts of mythical creatures dancing along the flowing and smooth vines that were woven between them. Faeries, beasts, dragons, and unicorns spun together.

You run your fingers over the work lightly, and there’s some part of you that’s sure there’s a story begin told, but you’re not familiar with it enough to even try to guess. Hopefully you would have the opportunity to ask later.

Walking around the room is enough to make you relax. The appearance of what you can see looks normal, if not a little expensive. It’s elegant, and well thought out, not too different from the effort put into the landscaping you saw on your way here. While that had the intent of turning unwanted people away, this felt far more inviting.

A reward, maybe, for making it this far.

“Congratulations, you made it past the scary garden, have some tea.” You mutter to yourself.

“Heh.”

You freeze at the sound. Your entire body is on edge, every sense you have reaching out into the dimly lit room. The match is coming down to its final moments, and something about that realization makes you wonder if you are as well.

The hairs on the back of you neck prickle, and you can feel a strange sensation roll through you. A physical response to the realization that someone was behind you.

There’s a short gust of air and the match is blown out.

Something pulls it gently from your fingers as you press your lips together. Closing your eyes for a moment you let out a shivering gasp, barely a wisp of air in it, and turn to look behind yourself. Plunged into darkness again, your eyes could barely make out any details of the room, and frantic memory was all you had.

Facing the presence behind you, you looked up.

Two red eyes, blood-red and bright, gaze back at you. The light from their depths was neither inviting nor comforting. The moon itself seems to light the toothy grin that splits across the creature’s face as it regards you.

The was the master of this house. Perhaps the true master of the entire island, allowing the marines and the facility you fled to exist by some strange sense of boredom and little else.

Your education within the facility was lacking in many ways, but you knew enough to know what loomed over you right now.

Vampire.

“…Shit.”

[everyones-fangirl]

Delectable Little Pet

Warnings: 18+ This will be about after ascension Astarion so expect some extreme dark romance and future triggers. This chapter does contain descriptions of death.

Word Count: 3,810

Chapter 1

Cassara

Naivety. It’s a word I grew extremely familiar with, especially after I left home. At home, I was considered unruly, a brat, and much worse. In my village, however, I was practically royalty, being the heiress and daughter of two extremely powerful wood elves. My father was a magnificent protector, a master of the forest and its creatures, while my mother excelled in healing, her touch capable of mending the deepest wounds. With those two traits, our family quickly became the cornerstone of our small community, a haven for refugees seeking shelter from the ravages of war and strife. We built our enclave from the ground up, nestled deep within the ancient forests of Faerûn. Our village was a hidden gem, a sanctuary cradled in the embrace of towering trees and verdant foliage. The canopy above was so dense that sunlight filtered through in a mosaic of green and gold, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor. Our homes were seamlessly integrated into the natural landscape, crafted from living wood that bent and shaped itself to our needs under the guidance of skilled elven artisans. Vines and flowering plants wove through the walls, creating a sense of harmony and unity with the forest.

The heart of the village was a large, open clearing where a majestic oak tree stood, its branches spreading wide to form a natural pavilion. This ancient tree, known as the Heartwood, was a symbol of our community’s strength and resilience. It was here that we gathered for celebrations, council meetings, and communal meals. Around the base of the Heartwood, a series of interconnected platforms and walkways, built into the trees themselves, created a multi-level village that felt like an extension of the forest.

Our village was a place of perpetual twilight, the thick canopy above allowing only the gentlest rays of the sun to reach us. Bioluminescent fungi and magical lanterns provided a soft, ethereal glow at night, bathing the village in a serene, otherworldly light. The air was always fresh, filled with the scent of pine, wildflowers, and the occasional hint of woodsmoke from our hearths. A crystal-clear stream meandered through the village, its waters sparkling as they caught the light. Bridges of woven vines arched gracefully over the stream, connecting different parts of the village. Children often played by its banks, their laughter mingling with the gentle babble of the water. Our homes, though simple, were beautiful and functional. Each dwelling was uniquely designed to blend with the surrounding trees, with balconies and windows that opened to the forest. Inside, they were cozy and warm, filled with handcrafted furniture and adorned with tapestries depicting scenes of elven lore and history.

The training grounds were on the outskirts of the village, a series of clearings where the young warriors practiced under the watchful eyes of seasoned fighters. Nearby, the healing huts stood as a testament to my mother’s prowess, filled with the rich, heady scent of herbs and the gentle hum of restorative magic.

Gardens and orchards were scattered throughout the village, providing fresh produce and herbs. These plots were tended with care, using ancient techniques that ensured the land was never overworked and always remained bountiful. The village’s self-sufficiency was a point of pride, and everyone contributed to its upkeep in some way.

Our sanctuary, while idyllic, was not without its defenses. Hidden watchtowers were strategically placed around the perimeter, and secret paths known only to our people allowed for swift movement through the forest. My father’s bond with the forest animals ensured that we were always aware of any approaching danger. In this tranquil setting, it was easy to forget the outside world’s turmoil. Yet, for me, the village was both a haven and a cage, its serene beauty a constant reminder of the freedom I yearned for but was denied. Word of our sanctuary spread far and wide, drawing elves from distant lands to our secluded spot.

My father, with his uncanny bond with animals, led our defenses, commanding both the beasts of the forest and the brave men who trained from a young age to protect our home. The forest itself seemed to come alive at his command, a living barrier against any who threatened us. Meanwhile, the women, myself included, took on the roles of caregivers and teachers. Domestic duties occupied most of our time, but the most thrilling moments were those spent mending the injured warriors who returned from battle. I especially enjoyed hearing their stories, even as a youngling. Their tales of bravery and danger, of distant lands and fierce battles, filled my imagination with visions of a world beyond our forest. Each scar carried a story, each wound a testament to the harsh realities outside our sanctuary. It was through these stories that I began to understand the true meaning of courage and sacrifice, and yet, it was also through these stories that I learned the extent of my own sheltered ignorance. My world was safe, my life blessed with the privileges of my heritage, but beyond the trees, a far harsher reality awaited—a reality I was yet to fully comprehend.

My parents were no help preparing me for the real world, steadfast in their refusal to let any woman train, especially their very own daughter. They believed that a woman's place was in the home, tending to domestic duties and healing, not out in the wild learning to wield magic or weapons. Their overprotectiveness stifled my spirit, and my mischief around the forest was my way of retaliating for not being allowed to learn how to do more with my magic than heal. Even as a child, my mischief in the village was legendary. The elders would often shake their heads and mutter about my antics, but secretly, I think even they were amused. My favorite pastime was sneaking into the armory, where I would borrow—without permission, of course—my father's weapons. The sight of a small girl attempting to wield a bow twice her size was enough to cause both laughter and mild panic among the guards.

Then there was the time I decided to "improve" the herbal mixtures in the healing hut. I had observed my mother blending potions so often that I was certain I could do it too. The result was a concoction that turned a patient's skin a brilliant shade of green. Luckily, it was a temporary effect, but my mother made sure I spent the next month sorting herbs as penance. I also had a penchant for leading my friends on daring escapades into the deeper parts of the forest. We would play hide and seek among the ancient trees, their branches twisting into natural labyrinths. My companions were often in awe of how I seemed to know the forest as well as my own home. However, our adventures frequently ended with a search party sent out to find us when we failed to return by nightfall. The relief of the adults was always quickly replaced by stern lectures and extra chores.

One of my more infamous pranks involved the village's festival preparations. I convinced a group of younger children that the decorations would look better if we "borrowed" some of the shimmering scales from the forest's sacred dragon statue. The elders were not amused when they found their revered monument looking rather bare, and the ensuing task of reapplying the scales was a tedious one. Despite the trouble I caused, my mischief was never born of malice. I was simply a child seeking adventure and excitement in a world that often seemed too small for my imagination. Each escapade, each prank, was a lesson in disguise, shaping me into the person I would become—restless, curious, and always eager to push the boundaries of what was possible.

My defiance began to crystallize into a plan. I managed to manipulate one of the younger warriors around my age, a boy named Aric, into showing me fighting styles and magic. Aric was a kind soul, eager to share his knowledge and excited by the prospect of a secret training partner. Under the cover of darkness, we would sneak away to hidden glades where the moonlight filtered through the ancient trees, casting ethereal shadows on our training grounds. Aric taught me how to channel my magic into offensive spells, how to hold a sword, and the basics of combat stances. Each lesson was a thrilling defiance of the rules, a secret rebellion against my parents' constraints. However, our clandestine sessions did not go unnoticed forever. One fateful night, we were ambushed by a patrol led by my father himself. The look of betrayal and fury in his eyes is something I will never forget. Aric was immediately dragged away, and despite my pleas and protests, my father decreed that he was to have no further contact with me. My heart broke as I watched Aric disappear into the darkness, his eyes filled with regret and apology.

My father’s punishment was swift and severe. He made sure Aric would never speak to me again, assigning him to a remote outpost on the very edge of our territory. I was confined to the village, my freedoms curtailed even further. The lessons Aric had imparted to me were now my only connection to the world of combat and magic that I so desperately yearned to master. My defiance had been met with harsh consequences, but it only fueled my determination to find a way to break free from the suffocating expectations placed upon me. I spent my days dreaming of escape, my nights planning how to continue my training in secret. Each act of rebellion, each small victory in my clandestine practice, was a step closer to the independence I craved. My parents had tried to shield me from the dangers of the real world, but in doing so, they had only ignited a fire within me—a fire that would one day lead me far beyond the confines of our forest home.

But if only I knew how hot fire burned and how quickly everything could be taken away. If only I had understood the weight of my wishes, the peril of yearning for freedom without comprehending the price. How could I have possibly foreseen that one mistake would cast me into the clutches of a bloodthirsty monster, reducing me to the status of his slave? What surprised me most of all were the dark desires he dug from deep within my subconscious, desires I tried my best to bury and ignore.

The day of my downfall began like any other. I was practicing my secret spells in a secluded part of the forest, a hidden glade I had discovered weeks earlier. It seemed a perfect spot for my training, untouched and silent, surrounded by ancient trees whose leaves whispered secrets in the breeze. But I did not realize that my presence had triggered an ancient trap, a warding spell set to alert the dark creatures lurking in the shadows.

I was deep in concentration, channeling my energy into a swirling orb of light, when a sudden chill ran down my spine. The atmosphere shifted, the once serene glade now thick with a foreboding presence. Before I could react, they were upon me—dark, hulking figures emerging from the shadows. Their eyes glowed like embers, and their snarls echoed through the glade. They moved with unnerving speed, their claws extended and teeth bared, reflecting the dim light in sharp, menacing glints. My heart pounded, but I forced myself to stand firm, summoning the defensive spells Aric had taught me.

The first monster lunged, its claws slashing through the air. I barely managed to conjure a shield of shimmering light in time. The impact sent vibrations up my arms, and the force of the blow pushed me back a step. I retaliated with a burst of flames, the fire erupting from my hands and searing the air between us. The monster recoiled, its fur singed, but another quickly took its place, closing in with terrifying ferocity.

Lightning crackled from my fingertips, striking one of the creatures square in the chest. It howled in pain, but the sound was quickly drowned out by the growls of the others. They surrounded me, a circle of malevolence and fury. I spun around, casting spells in every direction—flames, bolts of energy, gusts of wind—but there were too many. For every monster I struck down, two more seemed to take its place. Their claws raked across my skin, drawing blood and shredding my clothes. Pain shot through me, but I couldn’t afford to falter. I drew upon every ounce of magic within me, forming a vortex of energy that pushed the creatures back momentarily. The air crackled with power, the glade illuminated by the glow of my magic. Yet, their relentless assault continued.

Realizing I was outmatched, I turned to run, my heart hammering in my chest. Branches and low-hanging bushes seemed to conspire against me, tearing at my skin and clothes, slowing my escape. I could hear the creatures behind me, their breath hot on my heels, their snarls filling the air with dread. Panic surged, my steps faltering as I glanced back. That was my mistake. I tripped over a hidden root, the ground rushing up to meet me. Pain exploded through my body as I tumbled down a steep hill, branches and rocks bruising and cutting me. The world became a chaotic blur of green and brown before everything went painfully black. When I came to, dried blood crusted the right side of my forehead and face, and my head throbbed with a relentless ache. I was face down at the bottom of a large drop-off, and it was a miracle I was even alive. Night had fallen, casting the forest in deep shadows, and there was no telling how long I had been unconscious. Slowly, I stumbled to my feet, the world spinning around me as I made my way back up the hill. Every step was a struggle, my limbs heavy and uncooperative. As I reached the top, the first thing that hit my senses was the smell. Smoke mixed with the acrid stench of what I now know was burning flesh, a scent so vile it made me gag. Then I saw it—the sight of a blazing inferno in the middle of the night, flames licking the sky like the fiery fingers of some malevolent deity.

Panic surged through me, and I broke into a run, my legs barely holding me upright. As I neared the village, the oppressive heat of the flames pressed against my skin, stinging my eyes and filling my lungs with smoke. The once serene and harmonious village was now a scene of chaos and destruction. The towering trees that had sheltered us were now engulfed in flames, their branches crackling and collapsing under the intense heat. I fell to my knees as I reached the clearing where my home sat ablaze. The silence was deafening. I briefly wondered why I didn’t hear any screams, why I saw no one running around in frantic desperation. The homes, once seamlessly integrated into the forest, were now little more than skeletal remains, their living wood structures consumed by fire. The bioluminescent fungi and magical lanterns that had once bathed the village in a soft, ethereal glow were now reduced to molten globs, their light extinguished.

Then I saw them—charcoaled bodies lying in the burnt grass, twisted in grotesque shapes. The air was thick with the sickening scent of burning flesh, and my stomach churned. Horror gripped me, cold and unrelenting. I could feel the malevolent magical essence that had assaulted me in the glade, lingering in the air like a toxic miasma. It clung to the ruins of my home, a dark signature of the evil that had visited our sanctuary. I stumbled forward, my legs barely carrying me, as I tried to comprehend the magnitude of the devastation. The Heartwood tree, once the proud symbol of our community, was now a towering inferno, its majestic branches consumed by fire. The gardens and orchards that had provided us with fresh produce were now blackened and barren, their plants reduced to ash.

I crawled through the ashes, my hands and knees blackened with soot, my mind numb with shock. The destruction was total. Every structure, every tree, every piece of the life I had known was reduced to smoldering ruin. I reached for one of the bodies, my fingers trembling, but recoiled at the sight of its blackened, unrecognizable form. The training grounds, once a place of discipline and learning, were now a battlefield of charred remains. The healing huts, filled with the rich, heady scent of herbs and the gentle hum of restorative magic, were now silent, their contents burned beyond recognition. In that moment, the weight of my wishes crashed down upon me. My desire for freedom, my defiance, had led to this. Everything I had ever known and loved was gone, taken from me in the span of a single night. The beautiful, harmonious village that had been my home was now a nightmare of flames and death. And as the reality of my loss settled in, a new fear took root—fear of the unknown future, of the bloodthirsty monster who now awaited me, and of the dark desires he had already begun to unearth within my soul.

There I lay, unrelentingly coughing on the smoke that filled the air around me. Each breath was a battle, the acrid fumes searing my throat and lungs. The heat from the dying fires pressed against my skin, a constant reminder of the devastation surrounding me. I curled in on myself, clutching my knees to my chest, the world reduced to a blur of pain and grief. Tears streamed down my soot-streaked face, cutting clean paths through the grime. I wanted the earth to take me too. I wished for it to open up and swallow me whole, to end this nightmare. The weight of loss pressed down on me, a suffocating shroud of despair. My eyes closed as I prayed to whoever would listen—any deity, any spirit, anyone who could end my suffering. I begged for them to take me instead, to reunite me with my family and friends, to free me from this agony. But the night passed slowly, each minute an eternity. My prayers went unanswered, the silence around me as cold and unfeeling as the ashes beneath me. As the first light of dawn pierced the smoky haze, the reality of my solitude settled in. The village, once a bustling sanctuary, was now a graveyard of charred remains and smoldering ruins. I stirred, my body stiff and aching from the night spent on the ground. As I came to, the morning light revealed the full extent of the devastation. The trees that had once formed a protective canopy over our village were now blackened husks, their branches like skeletal fingers reaching towards the sky. The stream that had meandered through the village, its waters once crystal clear, was now choked with ash and debris.

The silence was overwhelming. No birds sang, no insects buzzed, and the only sound was the faint crackling of the dying fires. I pushed myself to my feet, swaying unsteadily, my legs weak and trembling. My dress, once a symbol of the elegance and grace of my wood elf heritage, was now in tatters. It hung from my frame in ragged strips, torn and dirtied beyond recognition. The delicate leaf patterns, painstakingly embroidered with silver thread, were obscured by soot and grime. The rich, emerald green fabric, which had shimmered like the forest canopy in the sunlight, was now dull and stained with blood and ash. The sleeves were shredded, leaving my arms exposed and covered in cuts and bruises. The bodice, which had once fitted snugly, was ripped at the seams, barely clinging to my shoulders. The skirt, designed to flow gracefully with each step, was now a torn mess, the hemline uneven and frayed. Large gashes revealed glimpses of my scratched and bruised legs, evidence of my desperate flight through the underbrush.

As I moved, the remnants of the dress rustled softly, a sad echo of its former beauty. The once soft and comforting fabric now chafed against my skin, each movement reminding me of the chaos and violence that had led to this moment. It was a far cry from the elegant attire I had worn with pride, now reduced to a pitiable state by the night's horrors. Each step through the village was a journey through a memory turned nightmare. I passed the remnants of homes, their walls crumbled and burnt. The once lush gardens were now barren patches of scorched earth. I stumbled upon the Heartwood tree, its massive trunk split and charred, the symbol of our strength and unity reduced to ruin. My heart ached at the sight, a fresh wave of sorrow crashing over me. I sank to my knees, my fingers digging into the ash-covered ground. The faces of my family and friends, their laughter and warmth, haunted me, now nothing more than ghosts in a destroyed paradise. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, its light harsh and unyielding, I realized the truth. No one was coming to save me. The world outside our village had always been a mystery to me, a place of unknown dangers and uncertainties. Now, it was my only option. I had to leave, to find a way to survive in a world that had already shown me its cruelty. I gathered what little strength I had left, my determination hardening like the cooling embers around me. I would not let my family’s memory fade into nothingness. I would find a way to honor them, to fight against the darkness that had taken them from me. My journey was just beginning, and though the path ahead was shrouded in uncertainty, I knew I could not give up.

With a final, lingering glance at the ruins of my home, I turned and began to walk. The forest, once a place of safety and comfort, was now a daunting wilderness. Each step was heavy with grief, but also with a growing resolve. I would survive. I would find the monster responsible for this, and I would make him pay. My destiny lay beyond the ashes of my past, in the unknown world that awaited me. As I moved forward, the first rays of sunlight broke through the canopy, casting a hopeful glow on the path ahead. Despite the overwhelming loss, a spark of determination ignited within me. This was not the end—it was the beginning of a new chapter. And I would face it with all the strength and resilience my parents had instilled in me.

[arc-misadventures]

Rebirth au: How is sword training going with Juniper has she taught the twins aura slash as a ranged aura attack

Mother Knows

Juniper: Alright kids, watch carefully.

Juniper held her sword aloft, enveloping the blade in her violet aura growing brighter, and brighter until she swung her blade, discharging an arc of pure aura outward. Carving up the ground until it reached its zenith, and exploding, revealing a small crater in the ground as the dust cleared.

JJ: Ohhhhh~! (Clap, clap, clap, clap!)

Juniper: Thank you, thank you~! So, how did I do this kids?

Jaune: Well, you extended your aura so it covered your blade…

Jeanne: Then, as you swung it out, you ‘cut’ it off your sword, and sent it flying?

Jaune: And, then: boom.

Jeanne: Yeah… Boom.

Juniper: Oh how observant of you. You’re right on the money; that’s precisely how I did it.

Jeanne: Seriously?

Jaune: Is that really it?

Juniper: Yep, that’s all there is to it.

Jaune: If it’s that simple, then why is this a family secret? Seems like something anyone could do this.

Juniper: It’s a family secret because if its not taught properly, or if you do not have sufficient enough aura reserves, it can kill you.

Jeanne: Eh?

Jaune: Beg pardon?

Juniper: This technique draws upon a rather large reserve of aura. As you start to master this ability, it will require less aura to form, but the more aura you put into it can cause a greater effect of the blast.

Jaune: And, if someone with a low aura were to do this it could cause them to break their aura, and exhaust them from aura excretion.

Jeanne: And, if they didn’t discharge their aura properly, it could explode in front of them. Like a grenade going off by their feet?

Juniper: Precisely. This is why it is a family secret; Because, Arc’s naturally have large aura reserves. So even if it does explode in your face you should be able to handle it. But, still, we’ll be starting off easy becore we go about blowing things up.

Jaune: Like focusing on encompassing our aura’s on our blades?

Juniper: Bingo bango bongo! So, on your feet you two! And, you should also stand a few feet apart from each other while you’re at it.

Jeanne: In case it explodes?

Jaune: Why would it do that?

Jeanne: Well, we got to put our aura on our blades, which also means we’ve got to put it back.

Jaune: Ahh, like drawing, and sheathing the blade: Practicing so we don’t cut ourselves, or something. Right, Mom?

Juniper: Well it doesn’t appear like I’ll have a hard time teaching you how to do this. Well, get practicing you two.

JJ: On it, Mom!

~~~

Jeanne: Ughhhh…

Jaune: That hurts…

Jeanne: It would hurt less to have my aura broken from having someone beat my face in than this.

Jaune: I can handle a beat down, but that felt like someone was jacking me for all my blood…

Jeanne: Gods I wish we had your semblance for this…

Jaune: Shut up…

Jeanne: Right! Sorry…!

Juniper: What was that?

Jaune: Jeanne wishes she could use this technique with her semblance!

Juniper: Hmm… It… could work… Possibly without the use of your aura at that.

Jeanne: Ohh! Maybe I should try practicing with that instead?

Jaune: It would still blow up in your face.

Jeanne: So, I could do it!

Jaune: And, what about the other side effects of using your semblance?

Jeanne: …

Jaune: You said so yourself; You’re still lacking in fine control over it.

Jeanne: Grrr…! Curse you, and your sound logical responses to my brilliant plans.

Jaune: Hehehe!

Jaune: Alright kids, that’s enough for today, we’ll try again tomorrow, okay?

JJ: Okay.

Juniper: Good, no go, and take a bath you two; You reek of sweat, and dirt.

Jeanne: Yay!

Jaune: Separately.

Jeanne: Naww…

~~~

13 Days Later

~~~

Two large explosions echoed through the air as the dust cleared, and dozens of craters littered the ground. The two, Arc twins fanned the air about them, blowing the dust away from them as the inspected the carnage they wrong upon the forest. They spared a glance at one another before jumping up, and cheering loudly into the sky, it may have taken them a while, but they finally did it, they had mastered the secret Arc family aura slash.

Jeanne: Whoowhoowhoo! We did it!

Jaune: Ten consecutive uses of the aura blasts! We did it! Hahaha!

Juniper: Well done you two! Honestly, I thought this was going to take you longer to master this. Well, you still have some work to do to truly master it, but you have done well. I’m so proud of you!

Jeanne: Thanks, Mom! It was absolutely…! Exhausting… I’m so, so exhausted… Gods I wish you had your semblance already…

Jaune: My semblance would have refilled your aura, you would still be exhaustion from our training.

Jeanne: But, I’m tired from aura exhaustion, I wouldn’t have been so tired if you could replenish my aura after every blast.

Jaune: …

Jaune: That’s a fair assessment. But, you know my semblance wouldn’t help you. At most, you muscles wouldn’t hurt as much, but you’d still be tired.

Jeanne: But, I would still feel better!

Jaune: Look, I don’t have my semblance yet. So I can’t place my arm on you, and force my aura into you.

Jeanne: Then would you care to explain why your hand is glowing?

Jaune: …

Jaune: Oh…

Juniper: What the…!! Jaune, your hand!

Jaune held his hand on his sister’s shoulder, and a golden light spread from him across, Jeanne’s shoulder. She exhaled in relief as she felt the soreness in her muscles fade away, and her aura refill back to its full cpacity.

Jeanne: W-Was that your semblance?!

Jaune: Yeah… That was my semblance…

Jeanne: You got your semblance back! Congratulations, Jaune!

Jaune: I finally have my semblance back! Yes!

Jeanne: This is amazing! Wait, you said your semblance boosts the power of other people’s semblance, right?

Jaune: Yeah, what abou… Wait! No, Jeanne don’t do…?!

Before, Jaune could stop her, a golden ball of fire was sent flying, causing a massive explosion, creating a massive crater where it landed. Lighting the ground on fire in its wake.

Jaune: …?!

Jeanne: Whoa… That was fucking awesome! Hey! With your semblance boosting me, maybe I can trigger the second stage of my semblance!

Jaune: First off: Never do that again! Second, put that out! And, what are you talking about: Second stage?!

Jeanne: My semblance has a second stage that I can trigger when I’m stressed out. I’ve only done it a few times before. But, maybe with your semblance I can activate it more easily!

Jaune: Great, back are the days of, ‘Booster Arc.’ People using my semblance to help boost there own, peachy…

As, Jaune finished grumbling, his body was enveloped in a golden, white light as he stretched out his muscles. Giving a relieved groan as he got the kinks out of his neck.

Jeanne: Uhh… What was that…?

Jaune: Hmm…? Oh that! I can use my semblance on myself to replenish my aura.

Jeanne: That’s amazing!

Juniper: That is quite amazing indeed…

Jaune, and Jeanne’s bodies froze on the spot. They were too engrossed in the fact, Jaune got his semblance back that they forgot that their mother was there. And, worse of all, she overheard everything that had said, or more importantly: What they shouldn’t have said.

Juniper: You know… Your father, and I, as well as the rest of your siblings have noticed some things that happen between the two of you. Small things like knowing how a movie ends yet the movie has yet to come out. Knowing precisely how to swing a sword, despite never holding one before. Or, my personal favourites, your cryptic comments on how you wish to prevent something from happening again. Not from something happening, but from happening again. You’ve mentioned these things so many times before that we started writing it down in a book. Well, enough is enough! You knowing precisely how your semblance works despite the fact you just got it! This is the final nail in the coffin! You are going to tell me, and your father precisely how, and why you know all these things, or there will be hell to pay. Understood?!

Jaune: U-Understood…

Jeanne: We’ll tell you, Mom… But, I don’t think you’ll believe us…

Juniper: I’ll be the judge of that… We’ll talk later; Tille then, go and have a shower.

And, with that, Juniper Arc left, leaving the twins with a dark mood hovering about them. The two shared a look before they slapped themselves in the face.

Jeanne: Damnit… If I wasn’t so excited I wouldn’t have let that slip… I’m sorry, Jaune.

Jaune: It was bound to happen eventually… Besides, you heard what she said; They’ve been writing down all the ‘weird’ stuff we’ve said before.

Jeanne: So this outcome was inevitably going to happen?

Jaune: Fraid so…

Jeanne: So… Now what, what do we do then?

Jaune: We tell them the truth…

Jeanne: And, pray that they believe us?

Jaune: Yeah…

Jeanne: And, what if they don’t believe us; What do we do then…?

Jaune: I… I don’t know…

Jeanne: I was afraid you were going to say that…

Jaune: Yeah… Me too…

\\\

Hahahaha!!!

Rook three tries, but I finally finished it! Damn internet, cutting out on me.

Do enjoy~!

[jadegretz]

Miharu Hirano: Dance of Fists and Fury by Jade Gretz

Miharu Hirano stood at the edge of the dense forest, her breath visible in the cold night air. The moon was full, casting an eerie glow over the ancient trees that seemed to whisper secrets of the past. She tightened her grip on the leather-bound scroll in her hand, the key to mastering an ancient fighting technique that had been lost to time. The journey ahead was fraught with danger, but Miharu’s resolve was unshakeable. She had come too far to turn back now.

The scroll had been passed down through generations of her family, each custodian adding their knowledge to its contents. The final, elusive technique was said to grant its master unparalleled power, but no one had been able to decipher it fully. Legends spoke of a hidden temple deep within this forest, where the secrets of the technique could be unlocked. Miharu's mission was to find this temple and complete her training.

As she ventured deeper into the forest, the trees seemed to close in around her, their branches forming a canopy that blocked out the moonlight. The path was barely visible, overgrown with thorny bushes and twisted roots that seemed to reach out to trip her. She moved carefully, her senses alert to any sign of danger. The forest was known to be haunted, and the stories of those who had entered but never returned weighed heavily on her mind.

Hours passed, and the forest grew darker and more foreboding. Strange sounds echoed through the trees – the rustling of leaves, the snap of twigs, and the distant call of an unknown creature. Miharu pressed on, her determination unwavering. She had trained for years, honing her body and mind to peak condition. This was her destiny.

Suddenly, a shadow flickered at the edge of her vision. She spun around, her heart pounding, but saw nothing. The silence that followed was oppressive, as if the forest itself was holding its breath. She continued forward, each step more cautious than the last. The path narrowed, leading to a clearing bathed in moonlight.

In the center of the clearing stood a stone altar, weathered and covered in moss. Miharu approach …(see the rest of the story at deviantart.com/jadegretzAI). For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)

[floydhat]

Magic Assault Practices Opening and intermediate

(Esp video/En post w/ translation)

@prince-kallisto Here is the translation of this event ^^

(LOL, video translation is a little bad, but meh, Hikari (@sebbyphantomhive08) makes her own video with my raw -> here)

(I'm trying, notice me for any mistake)

Opening:

Here are all together, all in time, I'm glad to see all of us here.

We are near to the hour to start the obligatory "Practical Formation" start it? Ah, yeah.

By the way, hear me. As I did not have much time longer, I went to the mountains, I noticed up that a new gibier restaurant, I be dying to go there. I want in the queue to 3pm. I don't know if it was a meal or an early dinner. It tastes tepid but really flavourful.

You know it? Gibier, for its own nature, the meat is fron different species...If it's not properly care, it can make some smells of it will turn dry and stiff. It's requires qualified techniques based on experience.

In a lot of situations, u need to make hard decisions quickly in that place. That's not something that u can learn on a day.

That's really hand made, u will fall in love with it

...

Can u stop seeing me as u don't matter this? This story concerns u, too!

Being able to make decisions based on experience is important, and mages are not different. This lesson of "Practical Formation" is obliged because the good mages need practical experience. We would like our students to be aware of the importance that therse lessons have, and for the lessons in the lecture hall too.

"It will be funny to use all magic that I want." If u think that way, U WILL REGRET THAT FRIVOLOUS IDEA!

Then, additionally, I would like explain this lesson.

"Practical Formation" is a lesson when u use the knowledge that u learned in the classroom.

From now on, u will dare your limits using your magic thoroughly in a virtual area in the Coliseum.

I supervise and calificate if the learning in the classroom is used in practice.

Yeah? Why is it in a virtual area?

EXPRESS GRATITUDE TO ME FOR THAT!

Before, the "Practical Formation" was made in non habited islands or fields rented for that. But some students escape from teachers' eyes, we have a lot of blind points and they take advantage of that to don't make the lessons. We had a lot of disputes between teachers and students who tried to escape to their responsibilities, I was a lot of work!

Ah ...ah... today by today, go so further has no make sense.

Today, magical projectors' technology improved a lot. They're can show locations and enemies identical to the originals. With it, u can walk in the desert, take a bath in the forest, or explore the sea. From your home, we don't need to cancel by the bad weather.

In the past, how many lessons will be suspended by storms or blizzards? I mean, I'm glad about the technological advances.

In the virtual area, u will fight with the enemies generated by the projector.

Me, Dire Crowley, I will be the generated enemy!

For ur own security, the magic level of my vitual version is really low compared to me. I'm the headmaster of Night Raven College, I'm really strong, please, be prepared for this.

Yeah, I know that u would say: "The "wall" is really big, right?

But, if u try to pass those "walls," u will grow

U will be conscious of that, Now, let's start the Practial Formation!.

C'mon Dire Crowley instruction will begin, U will pass this successfully!

("Walls" like barriers of that)

Intermediate:

Good job, u have passed this training very well! Excelent! It's a really confusing feeling see how my student hit me even though it is a virtual me, it's werid, but if this is the way, I will accept it with tears because I'm so kind!

Now, the Practical Formation will be more difficult. Let's do a little break to pass to the next stage. Considering how many time I need to configure the projector , u have around 15 minutes.

Yeah? If I completed this Formation?

I ask u, "You see me like that type of person that assign task to their students that he own can't complete?"

U can't see it, but I can clear it. Obviously, I can clear it! After all, I'm the headmaster of Night Raven College.

Eh? U want to know what I think about your work? I can't tell u don't, no, no, no matter how kind I am.

Actually I never do it, but I'm sure that I can do it

While u are answering the sentences on a text, u never will hear "Up to now, the number of right answers are 5" right?

If I tell u, others teachers will be upset with me. I don't want that that's would be pretty embarrassing for me in my position.

But if it's my personal opinion, I don't matter tell you in secret

I'm honestly surprised with the high level of my school. As a headmaster, I'm proud of that.

With that rhythm, maybe u can exceed me in the hard mode.

Please~ do your best! That's they way to the development of the school.

Now, I'm going to adjust the projector and make sure to be relaxed to the next levels.

[12pt-times-new-roman]

lore! lore! lore!

This thing bears way too many resemblances to both Obann, the Punished and Cognouza for it to be a coincidence. The mini even looks the same. And both of those are directly related to Tharizdun.

For anyone wondering, because I had to look this up -- Imogen has resistance to psychic damage from a 6th level aberrant mind sorcerer ability. It also gives her advantage on saving throws against charm and fear effects.

"I'm gonna cast....... blight." the entire top table immediately looked up at that. they know.

"It's trying to find a form, but can't." Semblances of the party's faces can be seen beneath the skin, like a head under fabric.

ARBY'S: WE READ THE MEATS

A close second to "Arby's: What's in the meats?"

Them not putting out this fire when Matt has given so many hints that they should is legit hurting my rogue-playing soul a little bit

The illusory wall follows the same rules as the doors in Aeor: it requires a certain level (and possibly school) of magic to open. A 3rd level enchantment opened it. Behind it is a little cubby with a leather satchel, and it isn't trapped.

Deanna has a staff of healing!

Holy shit, that wolf king mini is fucking amazing and terrifying and I love him

As Ludinus' tower burns, the Bells Hells flee into the city, then into the forest. They find a large abandoned nest, where they build a fire to camp for the night.

They open the satchel. Inside, it's "empty" -- but it's a bag of holding. Upon asking for "Ludinus' notes," FCG brings out a cluster of vellum and parchment, some sections of half-bound journals.

"Toy transfers out of Rexxentrum"?? Chetney??? Got a bag of holding from a "credible source" within the city?

And he turns the bag inside out. There are coins, gems, a staff, more papers, and half a piece of armor.

All the papers are blank. Using the same technique as before, plus an Investigation check of 22, Chetney can see that these papers have something written on them, but can't make anything out, let alone discern what language it is.

It seems like this satchel was either a rainy-day fund, or "something left behind when the owner left in a rush." The coins and gems together amount to a little less than 3000gp.

There's also a tiny piece of dark burgundy wood. "It's a dildo!" "NO!"

The armor looks like a harness of some kind, like a torso harness. (Matt walked right into that one.) It's mostly dark-stained leather, and it's almost a vest, but it has a brass-gold inlay on it and it looks like where some of that metal is, it continues into an "emerging, arisen portion, almost like a... it rises like a metallic volcano, like an open funnel, but there's an empty space there." They're not sure if it's the front or the back, but it seems like there's space for something to fit in -- a gem (though none of the gems in the bag fit it), a vial, a beacon.

With detect magic, the armor is faint, the burgundy wood is faint, the staff is very strong. The staff is a "staff of dark oddessey," which has 8 charges that can be used to cast a whole bunch of spells. It requires attunement by a spellcaster. It has teleport, which can be cast using 6 charges. It regains 1d4 charges each day at dawn, and when it's used, it deals 1d4 to the user for each charge expended.

All the papers have a script that Deanna can see and read. LORE TIME! LET'S GO!

"The first bath of notes seem to be revolving around experiments on divine magic. Attempts to distill the base nature of divinity as an energy that can be replicated or destroyed... you also see notes that have designs, sketches, almost engineered blueprints for that strange harness that you saw. This is not in elven -- the text here is specifically arcane glyphs, like it's instructions for an enchantment. There are some notes in elven that follow those initial blueprints that speak of a physical regiment of magical infusion. As you continue on, they note on a synthetic recreation of the powerful natural magics that sustain the venerable wardens of the wilds. Beyond that, there are addition notes on dryads and fey, different fey entities that have locations throughout Wildemount, with eight crossed off... notes about 'feeding the root.'"

A nat20 investigation check to follow Ludinus' shorthand logic. "These notes are definitely batched with this harness. They are the next stage past its design. These are the resources needed for it to function. The dryad and fey entities, the locations that have been crossed out, are probably powerful dryad or fey entities that have, in the past, been discovered and utilized to power whatever this harness was supposed to be... the way it's designed, everything seems to funnel inward, so you imagine whatever resources presented into that portion of the device is funneled into that portion of the device. The last bit of notes speak of expanding his 'restoration sources' into the fey realm." So Ludinus was feeding this harness with fey and dryad magic. Travis clarifies that the elven word for "root" here refers specifically to the root of a plant, not the root of a phenomenon. Keep in mind that this was all written over 300 years ago.

"Oh my god, this Gildamesh motherfucker is grabbin' Smurfs!"

One of the marks delineating a fey-ish fane is "deep in the northeastern part of the Flotket Alps, one is in the lake deep in the Rimeplains, three are in the Savalirwood (though it's referred to here as the Veluthil), one within the Ashkeeper Peaks, and one that exists on an island to the northwest, past the waters." oh I will be COMING BACK TO THIS, JUST YOU WAIT

Best that they can tell, the portion of this chestplate that extends outward has an almost diamond-shaped gap. This probably rules out a Luxon beacon, because each of its sides is a pentagram.

The next cluster of notes is "about Ruidus, the red moon. Studying its curious superstition and religious scripture imploring its curse over Exandrian fanes and magical currents... he makes a lot of assumptions that the great temples fear this moon, and he wishes to know why. He theorizes that the gods continue to push to not even question or look in its direction, and you can see where this study is an obsession... for all the great shadows and villains that have been written about through the scriptures of history, there have been deep understandings to inform the populace of faith that what exists in evil should be understood so it can be avoided. But this is the one thing that exists int he skies of Exandira that the gods just say, 'look away.' That has been something on his mind since Moalesmyr. He notes the odd flares, odd notes mentioning the historical Ruidisborn. He quietly curses that he was not born under, wishing for the gods' fate. He hopes to employ a communion ritual timed under a flare to understand and decipher it. He talks about forgotten gods, about divine unravelling, of an ancient primordial that wasn't sundered after the Founding, all these theories of the red moon trying to ascertain its nature. Another entry complains of the Emerald Cross priests undermining his research, but he still managed to contact something, like reaching into an alien dream. He can't quite reach it yet -- it exists on the peripheries, and needs something stronger to break through."

The third and final batch of notes is "on the slowly expanding chaotic nature of the arcane crystals that form the power well beneath Molaesmyr. It notes of Aramond, who theorized that the well was a gift from the Archeart that was lost in the Calamity and rediscovered in the founding of Molaesmyr. Others believed it to be of Arcanum descent, fallen from one of the floating cities... harnessing this long-buried power source interests Ludinus' endeavor. In his final notes, he theorizes that if this crystal well is focused through his design without them knowing, while Ruidus is above during the solstice, he hopes a channel of consciousness could be opened, and that which is calling his attention to the red moon could be contacted."

Laura connected the dots! Maybe this "well" was a collection of Luxon beacons, or a singular one that was somehow elevated -- whether by unleashing or by malfunction -- beyond the power we've seen so far, or one that was infused with the divine magic of the Archeart, or any number of other things.

End of lore dump

Chetney on Rexxentrum: "there's a king, but we know who's really in charge."

The party contemplates who they should take this information to. The king and queen of Uthodurn, the king of the Dwendalian Empire, the Vellum Steeple, Vasselheim, Ivodel...

And Imogen suggests the Cobalt Soul. (please. i am begging. also, Fearne and Imogen being absolutely enamored and turned on by Beau's abs and ass is absolutely peak)

Goddamn, I thought I would never see the day-- SAM being the voice of reason, and TRAVIS being the lying voice of chaos?? I mean, at least Fjord had some kind of logic to his voice of "fuck it we ball," but Chetney's straight-up lying!

Hey, there we go! Religion check on "emerald cross priests." FCG recognizes that some of the symbology of the Archeart leans on cross designs and verdant colors, so the "Emerald Cross Priests" may have been a faction of their worship. This tracks, since Molaesmyr itself was built on the belief that its location was protected and preserved from the 100-year fire by Corellon themself.

They decide to sleep in the abandon nest instead of teleporting, and Imogen and FCG are set to dive into Frida's mind using a dual detect thoughts.

oh my god Christian had matching sweaters made. he gets one in FCG's colors and gives Sam one in Frida's colors. my heart can't take this. gift giving as a love language is so special to me.

Into Frida's thoughts! (Deanna cries in Chetney's arms.)

First, it's a familiar space for FCG, but for Imogen, it feels like a waiting room. It's different, organized, segmented, separate -- unlike organic minds. Even FCG's mind leans more into the chaotic space of organic brains, while Frida's has a clarity.

The three of them come to rest in a room, and FCG and Imogen see Frida as a mist, standing before a doorway waiting to be opened. Through it, it's like being pulled down a lazy river. It's dreamscape, comfortable -- "a trek through a consciousness where you pick up memories. A waking moment, a hooded figure with a metallic mask rousing them from a dark, closed space. (Imogen recognizes them as D.) Struggle, survival in a harsh wilderness, wandering through unfamiliar streets and fear in the eyes of people as the consciousness of Frida steps, seeking connection but being fled from. You see children, playing, and that protective energy swelling, and that fear fades. You see the laughter and smile on Deanna's face over a cooking fire, the polishing of armor. A smattering of memories, but much like FCG's -- a fresh existence. It's like peering into the memory of a child, though there is a more extended, sourceless confidence and maturity."

Frida focuses on the names that he heard in the tower -- Laerryn, Vatora, Vishtaron, the child that FCG saw -- and (with a straight d20 roll of 5) Frida gets lost in the current. Memories begin to bleed into images of the child from before. "You have images that completely envelop the horizon for just a moment, of warfare. Of weapons, of people being cut down, then back to the river. [Frida] has had these dreams, rarely -- but it couldn't have been you, right?"

When Frida looks down, they see the river of energy that pulls them through the memories, and it obscures the lower part of their body. But they see their spiritual self, a bipedal entity of energy.

FCG and Imogen try to push deeper into Frida's memories.

NAT 20 FROM LAURA, and Matt makes a roll with a glance at Frida. They feel a pain in their mind, like a headache even though they've never had one -- the pain builds, and the others see the image of Frida fold and emit white light.

"That flash of warfare seems to emerge once again. It's less a battlefield -- stone hallways, bodies on the ground. Somebody rushes out of a room, and you watch as they fall to the ground. Standing before them is the spiritual form of Frida. A warrior, cutting through enemies in some sort of a structure. A very beautiful, unrecognizable structure... [Frida pushes forward, not knowing who's a friend, who's an enemy.] Some have brown and gold robes with gentle leather chestplates or armor. Some are preparing to cast spells before a blade catches their throat. A soldier runs up with a spear and shield toward Frida, who takes a hit before grabbing the spear and breaking the soldier's neck before pushing forward... [for Frida], it's an odd experience, like you're riding another person's experience. [Frida feels this is right. They know an objective when they see one. They keep going. They roll a d20, for a 10.] The details are fuzzy, but the people around you -- you begin to realize, it's not you pushing into a stronghold, you're defending. But the people you're fighting at the sides of and the people you're fighting against aren't dressed all that differently, and you feel a sadness at what must be done. You are not fighting an enemy from outside -- you are fighting an enemy from within."

Behind Frida, they see what they're defending: a beautiful structure, long halls, tall arched sealings with pipes or metallic tubes. The floors and walls are metallic, polished. Very much like the description of the A2 crash site, with the metal walls and "plastic" tubes. Frida is defending whatever's behind them, and they turn back toward it. Others go past them -- "what are you doing? Where are you going?" The hallway goes on, and on, and on as individuals walk past. The hall widens, and they see a central, massive chamber where "there is a contraption of such immensity, you've never considered or seen something on this scale. All manner of glowing crystalline devices and whirring mechanical devices, funnels and tubes and glass domes, sparks and dozens upon dozens of architects and engineers and magical practitioners all focused in this space. A voice shouts in Aeorian, 'protect the factorum!'"

The room carries a buzz, a hum that grows to a growl. "An engine of such immensity within this space that the chamber itself, the ground beneath you, vibrates and shakes. Stones and fallen instruments just move and cascade across the ground by the immensity of what is growing. The crystals are alighting. The space itself is preparing for something incredible. Then, it's just white." Everyone takes 8 points of psychic damage (no save, no roll to hit, no nothing) as they are shunted out of the vision.

Chetney puts the dots together, between the malleus factorum and the malleus keys. In Aeor, Frida was defending it from assault. Frida remembers one thing: "when you were discovered by D, you were ruined... he didn't just resuscitate you, he repaired you, brought you back from the brink of annihilation and set you free."

Frida was drawn to Aeor, and Deanna implies that that's why they went to Eiselcross.

Imogen recognizes some similarities between the energy signature, the structure, the vibrations between the malleus factorum and the malleus key -- but the key in Marquet was far smaller, far less powerful, far less immense.

Chetney recognizes that the crystals in the malleus factorum are distinctly different than the arcane batteries on the malleus key.

Facets of the clothing was semi-recognizable to FCG, but nothing about the location or the project rings a bell. Travis and Aabria suggest that FCG was in Avalir, not Aeor, hence why they recognize the clothing but not the location.

"Xhorhassian"? Deanna, where the fuck did that come from??

Deanna and Frida were in Eiselcross because Frida felt drawn to Aeor's central ruins, like Imogen felt drawn to Ruidus.

Frida feels a twinge of memory at the back of their head at the names Laerryn, Vishtaron, and Vatora, but they don't know why. But they know they were protecting the creator hammer -- whether it was because they believed in the anti-god sentiment, believed wholeheartedly in Aeor itself, or were going along with their orders.

(Meta note: Aabria says she "saw a room full of people doing what one person did" in relation to Laerryn.)

Chetney gives Frida a little wooden robot! It moves and everything. "A pillar of protection and I feel a connection to you, because you protect children and I bring joy to children with these [toys]." Fearne tries to comfort them too -- "you were being commanded then, but now, you're free to do what you want." The cast makes the connection between "Frida" and "free to."

I'm honestly loving the suggestion that Morri and Ludinus are exes, and that's part of why the Nightmare King hates him so much.

"But wherever we go... what about you two?" FCG.... honey.......

Deanna feels like Frida is moving on, and she's afraid of being left behind again. They have FCG now, and all of them have a mission, and maybe she should go back to Uthodurn -- no. Chetney's with her. They would've been swiss cheese, would've been ground meat without her. "I just don't want anything to happen to you." "I... made something for you, too." It's a little cup, like the ones they used to drink out of on the Menagerie Coast.

"Just-- a real quick question-- is the werewolf thing only for fighting?" "Y'know... there's... only one way to find out." "(full of sarcasm and irony) Help. Chetney has gone feral. Oh no. Anyone. Preferably Fearne, if you're into that. Help. The safe word is parmesan." And Chetney, Deanna, and Fearne run off into the woods.

Oh, how far Travis has come. This is character development. and it's canon now, fuckers!!

Now, they need to find out where to teleport. Uthodurn, Rexxentrum, Jrusar, Whitestone, Bassuras, Zephrah -- they could go anywhere. But they need to find out where the other group would think of to meet up.

FCG casts commune. And Matt does make an interesting point -- "should we go here" is different than "should we go here to accomplish this task."

As they cast the spell, they feel their consciousness rise "to a space within all horizons, at a crossroads, paths spreading out from you in all directions that converge here. There's a sign post, and it's blank. On the sides your vision, you see strands of hair, and you turn, and you see once more a feminine form upon the same horizon. She looks two inches tall, two miles tall, you can't tell -- it's strange. But she's present. [Hi. First of all, thank you, for all your guidance and for sending me Frida. We're trying to find our other friends, and we're wondering if we go to Jrusar, if we would have a chance to find them there at some point.] While previously, there was an inference of an answer, this time you hear a voice on the wind. 'Yes.' [Are they alive, Changebringer? Are they okay?] 'Yes.' [Even if I never know about my past, even if I never find out who made me or why I'm here, will I know Frida for a long time?] The wind picks up, and blows past.. the answer challenging to write, when the future has not been... In an immediate rush, this towering woman appears before you, her dark skin, her light brown hair that entangles around you. Her presence is bold, terirfying in proximity, her eyes these golden, open spaces, an intensity about her presentation as she looks upon you. 'A terrible fate looms for all of Exandria. An alien malice menaces the skies of the Marquesian sands. If you indeed wish to show your faith, to walk my endless paths beyond, then rise to our call. The winds of change blow cold against us all, yet hope remains unmoving in you. Our grace guides those who carry our banner. Hold it high, and traverse the path that I alight with purpose and fated destination. Do not turn from this road, for only shadow and solitude awaits beyond.' The light on the horizon grows cold, she grows more immense, you feel even more insignificant. 'The red end stirs in its slumber. Do not let it wake.' And she looks over her shoulder, and you see the distant gleam of the red moon, before--"

At the same time, the rest of the party watches as a sudden, almost sleepiness comes over Deanna. "Deanna, you sit for a second, before suddenly, this bright light fills your consciousness, the immensity of a star burning before you, something you've not experience at this proximity in some time, and comes with it a strength and a frustration long-felt. You try your best to avert your gaze, but the source of this light burns your retinas, and there you see before you the Dawnfather, encompassing the sky, nothing but his light. 'Mortal arrogance makes union with a forbidden scourge. The ruddy moon beckons over the skies of Marquet. Child, reborn of my grace and my will, I command you: strike out against those who would snuff our light. The gifts I grant you are the sword and shield against the darkness. Forsake these gifts, ignore our charge, and be abandoned... faith needs not logic, nor truth, but unerring conviction... the red end stirs in its slumber. Do not let it wake.'"

There is a warmth to the coin in FCG's hand, and it looks shinier. They identify it as a "coin of the Changebringer," and it... does a lot of things, according to Sam. (I bet it's an improved amulet of the devout +1, which by default gives them an extra use of channel divinity per day.)

Deanna gives Chetney her ring of temporal salvation. This is a ring that, when the wearer would die, instead they're healed for 3d6 hit points.

She also identifies the little piece of wood as a tuning fork for the planeshift spell, which is tuned to the fey realm.

Chetney took orders directly from the Cerberus Assembly. He made enchanted furniture. Allegedly. (This is a reference to C2E48/49, if anyone doesn't know.) Also, "RTA" may or may not stand for "Rexxentrum Toy Authority." Most of them were fine -- Ludinus was an ass, and Traversky was his best customer. This means that Chetney likely knows Delilah Briarwood by name, and knows her...... toy preferences.

Using the rod, they all teleport to Xhadana's house.

[de-fright-ful]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐗 𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐓 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐅𝐓. 𝐀 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐘'𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍 𝐍𝐎 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑

DRIFBLIM final evolution of driftloon, evolved at level 28 or through extraordinary circumstances

❝ It drifts along at dusk, perfectly silent. Its transient, melancholy aspect touches some people deeply—every so often, one will come upon a song or poem devoted to Drifblim. ❞

❝ Some say this Pokémon is a collection of souls burdened with regrets, silently drifting through the dusk. ❞

PRE-EVOLUTION— ❝ Said to lure away young children and carry them off to the afterlife. Some whisper that Drifloon is formed of reincarnated human souls, but these rumours are as yet unconfirmed. ❞

ARIADOS final evolution of spinarak, evolved at level 22

❝ It attaches silk to its prey and sets it free. Later, it tracks the silk to the prey and its friends. ❞

❝ Every night, it wanders around in search of prey, whose movements it restrains by spewing threads before it bites into them with its fangs. ❞

PRE-EVOLUTION— ❝ It waits intently until its preferred prey, Cutiefly, gets caught in its web. In fact, it's quite a patient Pokémon. ❞

NOIVERN final evolution of noibat, evolved at level 48

❝ Flying through the darkness, it weakens enemies with ultrasonic waves that could crush stone. Its fangs finish the fight. ❞

❝ In the dark, even Hydreigon are terrified of this Pokémon. But in the light, Noivern is the one that avoids battle. ❞

PRE-EVOLUTION— ❝ No wavelength of sound is beyond Noibat's ability to produce. The ultrasonic waves it generates can overcome much larger Pokémon. ❞

UMBREON, final evolution of eevee, evolved through max friendship at night

❝ Umbreon evolved as a result of exposure to the moon's waves. It hides silently in darkness and waits for its foes to make a move. The rings on its body glow when it leaps to attack. ❞

❝ It is most active in the wee hours of the night, when moonlight bathes the land. Its large eyes can pierce the darkness and perceive prey with absolute clarity. ❞

PRE-EVOLUTION— ❝ It can evolve into a variety of forms. Eevee's genes are the key to solving the mysteries of Pokémon evolution. ❞

BRELOOM, final evolution of shroomish, evolved at level 23

❝ It scatters spores from holes in the cap on its head. It loves warm and humid climates. It feeds on trees and plants in fields and forests. ❞

❝ Breloom closes in on its foe with light and sprightly footwork, then throws punches with its stretchy arms. This Pokémon's fighting technique puts boxers to shame. ❞

PRE-EVOLUTION— ❝ Shroomish live in damp soil in the dark depths of forests. They are often found still under fallen leaves. This Pokémon feeds on compost made from fallen, rotted leaves. ❞

LUNATONE, final form & doesn't evolve

❝ Lunatone becomes active around the time of the full moon. Instead of walking, it moves by floating in midair. The Pokémon's intimidating red eyes cause all those who see it to become transfixed with fear. ❞

❝ Its health ebbs and flows with the lunar cycle. It brims with power when exposed to the light of the full moon. ❞

POLITOED, final form of poliwag, evolves from poliwhirl when holding a crown rock

❝ They gather on moonlit nights to form a large chorus. Their cries sound angry and not at all pleasant, but they are certainly distinctive. ❞

❝ Although its cries sound like screams, a composer created a beautiful ballad that was influenced by the sounds. ❞

PRE-EVOLUTION— ❝ The surface of Poliwhirl's body is always wet and slick with a slimy fluid. Because of this slippery covering, it can easily slip and slide out of the clutches of any enemy in battle. ❞

[optiwashere]

Also Shadowheart/Asheera, B9? I swear you did write something like this before but hey, new angles,

I have written something to this effect before, but like you said - new angles and all that. Plus, it's not like it's something that Shadowheart just "gets over" you know? Either way, thank you for requesting this one!

Let's end the prompt bash with my two favorite ladies 💜

---

B9. Convinced that their past makes them irredeemable, Character A struggles with Character B's affections (This technically takes place after Chapter 2 of one of my ongoing fics, Blades in the Night, but all you need for context is that it's post-canon)

Night fell on the Trade Way, stars in haphazard patterns that Shadowheart couldn't read for any constellations.

All she saw were dots of light in the sea of darkness. Seams in the black fabric of night, none of them strong enough to light the world. The moon was dim that night. All was dark save for the small fire she and Asheera built together.

Stargazing kept her mind from staring at the shadows of the trees around them. Yet another forest.

More trees. More hiding places for the Sharran assassins set on ruining what future Shadowheart thought she could have. Each of the shadows in those trees, distant enough that her darkvision couldn't reach them, could have been a shifting figure with a nocked arrow.

"Quiet tonight," whispered Asheera near her.

She was sitting next to Shadowheart by the fire. When she sat down, Shadowheart didn't know.

"I suppose it is. Not much reason for most to travel this way, I assume." Shadowheart glanced her way, then returned her gaze to the sky.

"I meant you."

"Oh."

The low hunting call of a nocturnal bird was the only sound on the road for a handful of breaths. Shadowheart couldn't keep her eyes off the stars.

All around them they were bathed in darkness, yet still they shone. Did the stars too, then, understand what it felt like to consider the darkness? Think it preferable? Did whichever god that hung them in the sky know the feel of its creator's blood on its hands as Shadowheart felt of her parents? Had that god ever heard its parents scream as it worked the interrogator's techniques on them in ignorant devotion to some other, greater god?

It must have. Its work showed in the sky. On some mornings, the sky bled red, and the clouds were stained the same way Shadowheart knew her hands were stained.

Tainted.

"Love, are you all right?" asked Asheera, her voice so soft that Shadowheart shivered at its softness. Her hand fell on Shadowheart's shoulder, thumb rubbing gently. "You've been quiet for hours."

"Have I?" Shadowheart turned to stare at the hand on her. When she tilted her head up to look at Asheera, her tusks glinted in the firelight. "If I said I was contemplating the night sky, would you laugh at me?"

"Depends on why. I have a feeling it's not exactly a humorous occasion."

Waiting a moment, Shadowheart sighed. She didn’t know how to word this. "When you see a star in the night's sky, what do you think of it?"

Asheera shifted her jaw, grinding her tusks against her lip as she thought. Her brows knitted together above the bridge of her nose. "I see a forge weld, like pieces of a breastplate stitched together. Each of those stars keeps the world from falling into total darkness. They're beautiful that way. Why, what do you see?"

"Naïve children that think they can fend off eternal darkness. Destined to die, fade away. Become nothing."

At once, Asheera sat closer, her arm shifting to hold Shadowheart at the waist. Her arm wrapped around Shadowheart and pulled her tight. She was warm. Warmer than the fire. Instinctively, Shadowheart rested her head on Asheera's shoulder. Despite the distance - perhaps because of the oath Asheera swore to protect her - Shadowheart swore she could hear the echo of her heartbeat.

She was so damn warm, and Shadowheart could only think of the darkness blanketing the light in the sky. How a star could be snuffed out in an instant, replaced instantly by shadows.

Shadowheart's breaths hitched. For a moment, she worried her thoughts mingled with Asheera's mind. But the tadpole was gone. Her thoughts were her own, completely free from unfortunate sharing or melding of emotions.

The warmth of Asheera's body enveloped her deeper as Asheera slid her palm down Shadowheart's arm. Close, covered in that palm. Fingers slipped between hers. Held tight.

"You have no reason to fear that," whispered Asheera. "You are not that darkness."

"I broke people for decades. Including my own parents."

"You didn't know—"

"And that absolves me? That's meant to stop me from remembering what I've done?" Shadowheart growled, lifting her head to meet Asheera's gaze. "And what would you know of such loss?"

The words tasted like poison, specifically the extract of carrion crawler innards that could paralyze and trigger violent spasms in its victim. Acrid like burnt flowers. Disgust welled at the bottom of her throat, and she meant to turn away from Asheera, but she could only stare into the deep, ruddy brown eyes that searched her face.

She expected Asheera to pull away.

Instead, she reaffirmed her grip on Shadowheart's hand.

Instead of pulling away, she smiled weakly.

Instead of leaving Shadowheart to wallow in that darkness, Asheera said, "It's not meant to do anything. It's a reminder. But I understand. I understand, though if you think I'm going to sit idly while you compare yourself to the empty night sky, you're more clueless than I expected."

"You think me clueless, then?"

"Let’s just say that I remember hearing the zealot that I met on a floating squid ship regurgitate Sharran dogma." Asheera lifted the corner of her mouth in a curved half-smile. "She was so very different from the smiling drunk that said she cared about refugees."

And somehow, Shadowheart smiled again. She nearly laughed too.

Rather than say a word and ruin what Asheera offered with open arms, Shadowheart nestled back into her embrace.

The two of them watched the stars until the fire became a glimmering, constant light that refused to die. Though they were wrapped in the dark for a moment, darkvision revealing the world in grayscale again, the stars still shone.

[elgaladwen]

Younger Days - Nimardril

I wasn't sure where to start with fics since I have so many (most of which I won't ever post) but I decided to stick with the LOTRO universe for now, so here's a short little one about bratty/emo Nim when she was much younger. Curonthos is another of my characters who was friends with her deceased father, and tried to set her on the right path after her parents were gone. More about Nimardril is here.

"Do you want to end up like your father?" Curonthos hissed as he grasped Nimardril's shoulders, relieved that she felt solid beneath his palms, yet disheartened by how much the flash of defiance in her dark eyes reminded him of her father.

"I killed them all, didn't I?" She answered belligerently, sounding for all the world like a petulant child, and causing him to remember how very young she actually was.

She should be safe in Caras Galadhon, learning from books, or perhaps in the training yard, not out here covered in the blood of orcs she'd just dispatched, seeing things hard for even adults to see. Why had Firithdir decided to take her along with him from such a young age? She seemed to be a natural with bow and blade, sure, but not much else in life, and he worried for her future.

Curonthos sighed, already regretting his words twofold. Firithdir hadn't gotten killed by being reckless, but rather an orc archer getting a particularly lucky shot, and he shouldn't try to scare Nimardril by invoking her father's death. She seemed so keen on putting herself in harm no matter what he tried to tell her, though, and all he could do was teach her better techniques, so that she might more easily survive. And who was he to deprive them of a good fighter, who wished to be there, when so many did not?

"You did. But please wait for the others next time." He admonished in a more gentle tone. "It would be a a great pity if you were taken-"

She shrugged out of his grasp with a noise of disapproval. "I'll just have to not let myself get taken, then, huh?" She moved past him back toward the treeline, and the safety of the Wood, not once having met his gaze.

Hanging his head for a moment, Curonthos wondered if he'd messed up somewhere, or if there'd ever been any hope for her at all. It had been easy enough for he and Luinlalaith to say they'd look out for Nimardril when her mother had left Lothlórien in an attempt to join Firithdir in the Undying Lands, even imagining she might be something like the child he had never given Luinlalaith, yet that was not to be. The girl grew more angry and wild by the day, and the only thing he found to channel her emotions and energy was to keep training her, and letting her help with duties at the border. Luinlalaith tried to get her interested in other things closer to home, but it never worked, and both of them despaired. He could only hope that in time, she might grow more calm, or at least more keen on self preservation. Truly he worried that he would fail the daughter, just as he had the father, and so long ago, his brother too.

~~~

Nimardril kicked the door shut behind her, cursing as she tried to brush a strand of hair from her face, still stiff with dark blood. It had been a quick, and thankfully uneventful trek back home from the border, and Curonthos had even suggested she come back to he and his wife's flet for a bath and a meal, but she had refused, just wanting to be alone.

Alone. That's what she was here, in this home that was once her family's. In this forest. In this world.

She knew she should be kinder to her father's friends, they were only trying to help her, yet it felt as if they were trying to replace her parents, and why should she have parents, if hers were gone? Sometimes she wondered if she should have gone westward with her mother, but she had refused, stupidly thinking she could avenge her father somehow.

As her eyes took in the dim mess of the room, she sank down against the door, an unbearable tightness in her chest threatening to burst its way out. This place had once felt so safe to her. She could remember coming in with her father after walking in the woods, having fresh bread baked by her mother, all of them gathered by the hearth to talk and tell tales.

Now the hearth was dark, and the chairs broken in a fit of rage some months ago. She felt a little ashamed of that, and thought maybe to repair them, yet she just couldn't muster the energy to truly care. She didn't want the chairs, or this house with its taunting memories of a happy time. She just wanted to be fighting orcs, or at least hunting. Those were the only times she felt good or useful, and her father had always been proud of her skills.

She looked to the toppled bookcase, the tomes her parents had so lovingly collected strewn about the floor. She had promised her mother she'd continue her studies, but she'd stopped everything that wasn't related to scouting or fighting. She could read and write, she reasoned. She didn't need to do it well, though she did miss having stories told to her, and the comfort of them helping her relax.

With a sigh, she picked herself up off the floor, trudging to the washbasin in a kitchenette now empty of food. She found the washbasin empty too, and somehow this broke some last thread of control within her, and she began to sob, her hot tears making tracks upon her dirty face, and plinking into the basin one by one, as if she could fill it with her sorrow.

Of course it was empty. She'd not filled it before she left, just as she'd not bothered to clean the house, bring up wood for a fire, or stock the pantry. Her parents had done all of that, and though it was certainly well within her own capabilities, she missed having someone take care of her.

For the second time that night, she found herself on the floor, this time struggling to breathe as the sobs forced their way painfully up her throat. She tried to calm her galloping heart. She tried to tell herself that she certainly did not need anyone to take care of her, but it didn't work, at least until exhaustion won out, and her crumbled from, knees hugged to hollow chest, drifted into the land of dreams, where she still sometimes found wonder.

[sandimexicola]

Owl

DALL·E Prompt: A whimsical digital illustration of a wise owl perched on a tree branch, surrounded by oversized, pastel-colored flowers and glowing orbs. The background features a soft, dreamy forest with delicate, floating leaves and sparkling lights. The scene is bathed in a soft, mystical glow. Created Using: smooth digital brushes, soft gradients, pastel colors, whimsical design, digital illustration techniques, intricate line work, layered textures, ethereal lighting.