#He's so small and he knows so much about dragons

[ivanille]

Rafayel × Reader × Sylus | Navigating relationship. Fluff. Poly.

Rafayel doesn't know how he ended up forming a bond with a law abiding hunter and a fellow wanted criminal.

He was drunk, a couple of bottles of wine reducing him to a slurring, needy mess. He was draped all over [Name], who was cuddling him warmly, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as she cradled his head. It was such a comfortable position that he almost fell asleep right there and then.

But fate had other tricks up it's sleeve, because just when he was about to doze off, he appeared.

One thing led to another and before he knew it, both he and Sylus were sandwiching [Name] in her bed, drifting closer to each other as much as possible.

He thought Sylus was going to get possessive, such was the nature of a dragon, never forgiving. He himself was a little jealous when he witnessed how he handled his starfish, with so much gentleness and longing... something that no matter how much her tried, he would never do.

Maybe it was wishful thinking talking, but he wondered how they knew each other so intimately. He wondered, and wondered and wondered, until after months of tiptoeing around each other, he found his answers.

Heartbreaking.

He wished he never asked, he wished the man before him, who was always so imposing and frustratingly annoying, to stop looking as if the world has burned him out.

He wished [Name] would never remember what she had to go through. He wished her kind heart would remain untainted, and so he shouldered that secret for her, knowing that her soul will always remember despite the lack of memories.

He could see it with they way she clung to Sylus every time she said goodbye, with the way her gaze lingered on him with desperation at the most random of times.

He saw it every time she showered himself with affection, so much so, every single day, as if she was regretting not doing so earlier.

Yes, the soul remembers.

"Come here," he told the taller man one night at his house, lounging at the couch with [Name] sprawled over his chest.

Sylus raised an eyebrow, a teasing tilt already forming on his lips. "Oh? What is this? You want me to join you in your nightly adventures, fishy?"

Rafayel actually scoffed out a genuine laugh, shaking his head, beckoning him over with a bend of his fingers. "We both felt a little lonely earlier."

There, he'd done it. Sylus crimson eyes flickered, and he looked like he couldn't move for a second. His gaze went from him to her and back again, until his shoulders dropped in relief.

"My apologies," he chuckled, shedding his leather jacket and his boots, leaving him with his usual black t-shirt. "I hope my absence wasn't that difficult for you two to deal with."

"Hmm... it was," [Name] mumbled as she snuggled closer to Rafayel's chest, cracking an eye open when she felt the cushion dipping. She watched with soft eyes as Sylus laid his head on Rafayel's stomach, right besides hers. She gave him a small smile when he turned to face her, and she couldn't help herself when she placed a adoring kiss on his lips.

"Welcome home, Sy."

Rafayel hummed, his hand launching on those soft silver traces, his other hand preoccupied with rubbing circles comfortably on her back. "Welcome back, handsome."

Sylus looked at them with unusual gentle eyes, before he closed them, leaning his forehead into hers, indulging in the sensation of the lemurian's touch. "Mm, right there..." he sighed, wrapping an arm around [Name], hugging Rafayel too by default.

It will take some time to get used to that, Rafayel thought with fondness, his own eyes closing, and the murmur of the tv lulling him to sleep warmly between his partners.

[sky-scribbles]

I wrote a Rook!Blackwall fic, because I couldn't stop thinking about him having a bi awakening in his fifties. ~2000 words. Discussed Emmrook, background Dorian/Bull.

Small cw for discussions of societal and internalised queerphobia, and toxic masculinity.

—

‘I was wondering,’ says Thom Rainier, looking everywhere except at Dorian’s face, ‘if I could ask you for advice. About… something personal.’

Well, now, this is interesting. In all their time serving together in the Inquisition, Dorian can’t recall Rainier ever asking for his opinion on anything. Which is a pity. He could, for instance, have attempted, oh, Dorian, please advise me on how to stop smelling like the saddest stable in the South! Or, Dorian, you are so boundlessly charming – however can I become like you? And Dorian would say, alas, no one in Thedas could ever be me but me. And it would be a delightful little moment of friendship.

These touching scenes did not occur, however. And now, a decade later, Thom Rainier is in a Shadow Dragon safehouse, glowering at the ground, and belatedly realising how valuable Dorian’s opinions truly are.

So Dorian smiles and leans forward across the table. ‘Oh, do tell.’

Rainier doesn’t lift his head, but his eyes flick across to the door where his Qunari friend has disappeared to talk with Mae and Tarquin, as if checking it’s still closed. Then they snap over to where Ashur’s flicking through reports on Venatori movements. ‘It’s private,’ he says gruffly.

Ashur must hear this, because he gathers his papers and melts out of the room without comment. There's a pause as his footfalls vanish from earshot. Then Rainier glances up at Dorian across the table and says, ‘You know how your lot have been helping Taash figure out their… everything?’

‘Yes,’ Dorian says slowly. Does he disapprove? No – he’s not the type. Rainier’s worst crime is being a sloven, not a bigot. (Well, his worst crime was probably the murder, but, still.) No; far more likely that Rainier wants to know how to offer support. ‘If you’ve questions, ask away! Though it’s not my personal field of experience – you’d do better talking to Maevaris and Tarquin.’

(Actually, better not encourage him to talk to Tarquin. Two bearded ex-soldiers with crass tongues and a fondness for mocking the aristocracy might be a bit much.)

‘No. It needs to be you. I was wondering…’ Rainier swallows, and when he speaks again, it’s as if every word is being dragged up with a great, humiliated effort. ‘If you could talk about… something like that. With me.’

Dorian stares at him. He wants to… to talk about these matters. In regards to himself.

No. He can’t be. Thom Rainier?

‘How do you know if you –’ Rainier stops, flushed as red as a youngster taking their first peek at the Randy Dowager Quarterly. For a short period, he seems to struggle with concepts larger than his brain is used to containing, then manages, ‘If you like… men. How do you know?’

Oh. Oh, this is absolutely happening. Dorian leans against the table, a grin forming on his face. ‘Oh, my.’

Rainier holds up a hand. ‘Don’t start.’

Unfortunately for him, this is a glorious moment that Dorian will savour for the remainder of his living days on Thedas. He cannot wait to tell Bull. ‘Warden Rainier, I would never have guessed. Having naughty thoughts about some strapping lad, are we?’

‘Please,’ Rainier says, and there’s a note in his voice that makes Dorian stop short. Something pained and confused. His eyes finally meet Dorian's, and with a jolt Dorian is thirteen years old and at one of the Pavus family parties, watching an older boy laugh, eyes hungrily taking in the set of his shoulders, every last twitch of the muscles around his mouth – and thinking oh, yes and oh, no.

And Dorian looks back at the hairy, irritating man who spent a year in the Inquisition trading barbs with him. This is the man who strode unflinching to the gallows and declared that he had never been Blackwall. Looking at Dorian, so clearly scared.

Dorian’s grin fades.

‘Forgive me,’ he says. ‘That was... unhelpful.’ If the man is going through he kind of crisis that it looks increasingly apparent that he is, he needs aid, not belittlement or goading. He pulls up a chair and sits down, and Rainier, after a minute of continued awkward staring, does likewise.

Where to start? How does one know that they like men, Rainier asked, and – well, how is Dorian to answer that? Looking at men with admiration and, later, with lust, had been so obvious, so easy, sopowerful.

‘Well,’ Dorian says at last. ‘Let’s start at the beginning, shall we? What set your mind on this particular line of thought?’

Rainier picks at a flaw in the tabletop, his head still bowed. ‘There’s someone I met recently. And he’s…’

A long pause. That seems to be all that’s forthcoming. Kaffas, this is going to be like trying to get wine stains out of silk. ‘And he’s caught your eye, has he?’

‘He’s… he’s a gentleman. Graceful. Clever. Treats everyone around him with respect, and sees the good in them. Even when they don’t deserve it.’

Ah, the good old Rainier self-loathing. It’s almost nostalgic. ‘And you think you might be taken with him, hmm? And you’re trying to figure out if it’s just a respectful admiration, or something rather more disrespectful.’

Rainier’s head comes up sharply. ‘Do you have to make it sound like that?’

‘My apologies.’ Dorian makes a placating gesture. ‘Quite seriously, though: what is it you want from him?’

It’s the question he asked himself a dozen times, sweat-soaked and breathing hard, tangled in Bull’s limbs and sheets. Every time the kisses became that little bit softer. Every time Bull ran his hands down Dorian’s chest without any hunger, just with quiet tenderness. The question howling in the back of Dorian’s head: what do you want from him?

‘I want –’ Rainier begins, with another difficult forcing-up of words. ‘I want to… to treat him like he deserves to be treated. He doesn’t say it, but sometimes, the way he talks… he’s lonely. I see it. He’s spent too long in the dark, with his bones and his books, and he’s got all this – this feeling and no one to give it to. A man like that should be courted. Given flowers and a shield to stand behind and someone to make him feel like he’s…’

‘Cherished? Worshipped? Like he has a faithful knight ready to lay the world at his feet?’

‘Yes. All of that.’

‘And you like the idea that you might be the one to do that?’

A nod.

‘Then… forgive me, but what on earth would make you believe that you don’t have an interest in men? Have you never looked at a man that way before?’

Rainier blinks. His lips start to shape a no, then stop. Dorian watches something complicated happen on his face.

‘I won’t say I’ve never looked at a man to admire him,’ he says slowly. ‘Or had one I wanted to please, or pay me attention. But – don’t all men sometimes see each other that way? Everyone has to a little bit, unless they’re not interested in anyone like that –’

Dorian laughs; he can’t help it. And then he seems the bewildered look on Rainier’s face, and laughs harder.

‘Oh, big man, no,’ he says, when he’s finally got a hold of himself. ‘And I rather think men who are interested in women exclusively don’t tend to fantasize about being the courtly knight who gives the lonely gentleman the romance of his dreams.’

The longest silence yet. Then Rainier says, ‘Oh.’

‘Oh indeed.

Rainier sighs. The tension that’s been brimming in his entire frame starts to trickle away, and he looks… tired, now, more than anything else. He sits for a minute in silence, and Dorian, sensing that he needs the quiet, waits.

‘I’m getting toward sixty,’ Rainier says at last. ‘Shouldn’t I have figured this kind of thing out by now?’

‘Not necessarily. You’re from Markham, yes? I’ve heard that this kind of thing can be just as much of a scandal in the South as it is here, if not done discreetly. Not to mention…’ Dorian flicks his eyes over the man, taking in the hands calloused from years holding a sword and shield, the weather-beaten face, the old scars. ‘You were a soldier, weren’t you? Surrounded by all that manliness. I know the type – people for whom having a way with ladies is what makes them a man. Around such pitifully small minds, acknowledging interest in another direction tends to be unwelcome.’

Dorian has no experience of the culture of soldiers, of course. But Tarquin’s spoken a little of his time in the army: the judgement, the snide remarks, the disgust flung at anyone who dared to live beyond the narrow roles Tevinter prescribes for its people. Tarquin, even then, had the confidence to make an obscene gesture at his fellow soldiers and tell them to go and have sex with themselves. But Rainier… no, Dorian can’t see him as having that certainty. He’s always distrusted himself too much.

Rainier stares at the tabletop, perhaps recalling a time ten years ago where he mocked frilly Orlesian cakes and pink bloodstone weapons. At last he says, ‘You ever been around people who’ll jump on you if you like anything too…’

 ‘Soft? Oh, have I.’ Maker, is Dorian really having a moment of understanding the man? Are they relating? ‘And when all those good, masculine fellows don’t talk about what they feel… well, how were you to reach any conclusion about your own interests? You never saw anyone like yourself who would confess to such feelings. That was for dazzling fops like myself.’

Rainier laughs, but there are all kinds of realisations happening behind his eyes. Sympathy surges through Dorian, so powerful it’s startling.

‘You’ve never seen or heard anything that might suggest a man like you could have an interest in men,’ he says gently. ‘No suggestion at all that you could simply be allowed.’

And Rainier presses a hand to his forehead, covering his eyes. He says, quietly and with deep feeling, ‘Maker’s balls.’

‘Oh, don’t fret about it. If it’s any reassurance: I know for a fact that in some circles, large hairy men are considered very, very attractive indeed.’

To his delight, this is enough to make Rainier look both flustered and a little flattered. Dorian grins at him, and gets to his feet. ‘Do you know, I think it’s high time we both had some wine.’

He pats the big block of a man on the shoulder, feeling inexplicably fond of him, and heads to the storeroom. By the time he returns, bearing the essential comfort of a nice Vol Dorma vintage and two glasses, Rainier has propped his elbows on the table and is resting his chin in his folded hands. He looks... calmer. Close to smiling. Dorian pours him a sizeable glass and pushes it over to him.

Rainier takes it, considers it for a moment, and takes a sip. ‘Now what?’

‘Now? Well, first of all, why don’t you have a word with this gentleman of yours - what's his name?’

‘Emmrich,’ Rainier says, like it's a phrase from the Chant of Light.

‘Ah, Nevarran.’ A broader-minded people than either of their own. ‘Do you happen to know where his interests lie?’

‘He’s been with men,’ Rainier says slowly. ‘Women too. But I don’t… I don’t know if he…’

‘Might have an interest in you? Well, you have two options.’ Dorian sets his glass down and taps one finger. ‘One: you can take the route I always did, which is to get drunk well past the point of good sense, make sure you get him equally so, then wake up in his bed the next morning and go again. Then you proceed to not talk about it at all, and you wait until a few days later when you suddenly find yourself peeling off his clothes. Repeat, because you’re scared to say that you want him, not just his body, and you’re terrified it’ll end if you dare voice that aloud, and so sex is the closest you can get to the closeness you want with him.’ He gives Rainier a broad smile. ‘And then several months down the line, you haven’t slept in your own bed in weeks and he’s started to call you pet names, and you still haven’t told him you adore him, and now it’s awkward.’

There’s a pause.

‘Which all worked out splendidly for me, I might add,’ Dorian says, fingering the chain around his neck that bears a dragon-tooth pendant, hidden beneath his robes. ‘Though perhaps it wasn’t the most graceful way of falling into a relationship.’

Another pause, while Rainier stares, blinks, and finally says, ‘And option two would be?’

Dorian taps a second finger. ‘You roundly humiliate me by doing what I never could. Namely, you walk up to that man, tell him you’re rather taken with him and want something closer, and have the courage to face him saying no. Or, still more terrifying, saying yes.’

Rainier seems to consider this. Then he sweeps up his glass and tips the whole thing back in a way that’s both tasteless and – Dorian has to admit it, happily committed though he is – just a tiny bit hot.

With a decided motion, Rainier sets the empty glass down on the table. ‘Option two it is, then.’

[mendessi]

things i say when you sleep | chapter six

multi chapter bodhi durran x fem!oc

word count: 3.5k

summary: Ania crosses the Parapet into the Riders Quadrant, and finally meets with the marked children of those who got her parents and brother killed. Bodhi Durran is quick to remind her that she's marked too.

tags: slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, canon typical violence, mentions of death, she falls first he falls harder, majority canon compliant, some canon deviance, eventual smut, angst with a happy ending, additional tags to be added

AO3 masterlist

four | five | six | seven | eight

Things turned strange very quickly after Threshing. 

Between Violet's assassination attempt and Liam being moved into our squad (which I don't mind), everyone is growing testy as signets start manifesting amongst the first years.

"Until you control your anger, I will not channel," Gleigeal tells me. He's not wrong and I can't blame him. Every time I feel like I'm making any sort of progress, something sets me back and I have to start all over again. 

From my observations, there's also something peculiar happening between Violet and Xaden that doesn't have to do with their dragons being mated. I can't pinpoint exactly what, but I trust myself to figure it out soon. 

Training continues with Bodhi, and occasionally Liam when I end up in the gym at the same time as him and Violet. There's hardly any time for the mat anymore which is slightly disappointing. It's nice having him closer and despite Violet's temper tantrum over having him shadow her, he's fitting into our squad quite nicely. 

Things between Bodhi and I remain strictly professional. I meet him in the gym, we beat the ever-loving shit out of each other and don't speak except for when he lectures me on how to be better. Something in me still resents him for what he said to me the day after Threshing. 

You don't exactly make it easy to care about you.

He knows he shouldn't have said it and respects my right to be pissed by not trying to make me let him in anymore. 

Until he and Xaden decide to stop keeping me in the dark, then there will forever be a wall placed between them and my ability to trust them. 

Challenges resume and Ridoc and I are sitting next to each other on the bench when Jack finally challenges Violet. My stomach drops and I look at Liam as he goes pale. 

"Absolutely not," I'm quick to my feet. 

"No fucking way," Ridoc says as he rises to his feet. 

The three of us flank Violet as we accompany her to the mat and my heart is racing. It's no secret that Jack wants her dead, but the fact that this challenge was approved? 

"Tell me I can break the promise," Liam says to Violet and my eyes widen as I look at him.

"You knew?" My jaw hangs open slightly. 

Liam sighs and looks away from me and back to Violet. I'm shocked that he hadn't alerted Xaden considering if she dies on that mat so will he. The idea of Xaden dying makes my heart pound with anxiety. 

Ridoc and I share the same anxious glance as Liam sprints out of the gym with Violet's approval.

"I consider you a friend now, Violet. Do me a favor and don't make me grieve you," I say to her as she steps onto the mat. 

"A friend huh?" She looks back at me with a small smile, "How many months did that take?"

As the match begins, I'm hopeful that Violet will win. She's quick, and he's nothing but angry. He looks like how I feel, and the longer I watch, the more I see myself in Jack Barlowe. The thought makes me grimace, but it's slightly true. The only difference between him and me is that I put strategy behind each blow. He's just thrashing around, hoping he lands his hits. He has no plan, just one end game: kill Violet.

Your anger issues will get you killed.

I see the truth behind that statement at this moment. 

Anger can be a tool strategically used in battle, but it cannot be the key to winning. I'd been using it incorrectly. Letting it take over every inch of my being, so much so that sometimes I'd see red or blackout and not be aware of my actions til after the match. Anger is deadly if you let it consume you. 

Ridoc, Emetterio, and I all run to the mat in an attempt to tear Jack off of Violet. He's using his power and Violet looks as if she's about to pass out, but I'm sure if she passes out she'll die. Ridoc and Emetterio yank their hands back but I'm already on the move. The thought of Violet dying at the hands of Jack has me enraged and I grab his shoulder despite seeing Ridoc and Emetterio pull away in pain. I grab Jack's arm and pull back just as they had.

The pain is instant and I pull away, my arm vibrating with a throbbing power. I fall backward, but I'm back to my knees just as he releases Violet, his hands flying to his throat. Once he falls to the mat, I crawl to Violet, resting my hands on her shoulders. I can still feel the power lightly thrumming through her but I don't let go. 

"Breathe, Sorrengail, breathe," Ridoc says once he reaches us. 

I fall back onto my hands with a sigh of relief as Xaden and Liam burst into the gym. His eyes meet mine and I simply nod as he scoops her up into his arms and carries her out.

Two days later, I'm stretching on the mat in the gym waiting for Bodhi. He's annoyingly late which isn't typical for him.

"My time is valuable," I say when I hear the door open. When I look up I see Xaden.

I take a deep breath and stand up, placing my hands on my hips. 

"Good to see you, little Alistair," He says and my eyes follow his figure from the door to the edge of the mat. "Let's go for a walk." 

"Wingleader," I greet, the formality strange, "Where's Bodhi."

I'd barely seen or encountered Xaden in the past couple of months. I don't doubt that Bodhi updated him on my well-being since our training started. It made sense to me that Bodhi was my Liam. 

"Busy," He lies. "Let's go." 

This isn't a battle I'm winning so I don't bother arguing. I walk at his side as he leads me through the corridors of the main campus and eventually outside into the cold. It stings my cheeks and I have to clench my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering. We cross the courtyard and head toward the dorms. 

He opens the door to his room after unwarding and steps to the side to let me in. I stop in the hallway and give him a puzzled look.

"Why?" I question.

"Just get in the room, Ania." He sighs and again, I don't argue. 

His room is so much bigger than mine and rightfully so, he is a wingleader after all. He nods his head to the table in the corner and doesn't say anything as I sit in one of the chairs. He sits next to me and takes a deep breath.

"Why am I here, Xaden?" I ask, folding my hands in my lap. 

"I've been preoccupied with a lot of things and haven't done my best to be there for you," He says and I can tell it's hard for him to release the words. 

"I don't need you to be there for me," I sigh. "I thought we were past this. We're not kids anymore, I don't need you guys looking out for me." 

"I'm responsible for you," His hands are folded in front of him as he speaks. "Between you and Sorrengail, I'm stretched thin."

Liam and Bodhi had both told me that the scars on Xaden's back were his liability for all one hundred and seven of the Marked ones, including myself. It was hard to hate him after that, even harder when I remember what a huge chunk of my life he'd been a part of.

"I know that, but I'm not gonna betray Navarre or anything," I say. "If you get that impression from me then-"

"I swore to Beckett," He cuts me off, sitting up in his chair. "While he died in my arms, I swore to him that I'd keep you safe. I didn't know what that meant then, but it's different now. I am responsible for you and I've done a shit job at holding up my promise. I'm sorry." 

"That wasn't fair of Beckett to make you promise that while he was dying," I say and my eyes threaten to water. I never knew that Xaden had held him while he died. They were only sixteen, I can't imagine how traumatic that must've been. 

"He didn't make me do anything," Xaden sighs, "I made that promise. I made it because you are the closest thing I have to a sister and I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you." 

His words sit on my shoulders and I look down at my hands as I try to process them. It takes everything in me to fight the tears.

"You showed up and I was thankful that you were here. That I could look after you now. But you'd developed this hard exterior and made it so hard. You're upset and you blame us for what happened that day, and I can't be mad at you for that," His eyebrows furrow and he leans back in his chair again, "We've thought about it a lot and it's not fair for you to be in the dark anymore." 

You don't exactly make it easy to care about you.

The promises Xaden made, he meant to Beckett. To take care of me and make sure I lived. I'd done nothing but act like a brat since crossing the Parapet when all he and Bodhi were trying to do was care.

"Xaden," My voice comes out as a whisper and I shake my head, "I'm sorry."

"You have no reason to be sorry," He says firmly. "You were just a kid, we all were."

"The wingleader is correct," Gleigeal says, "Your grief overcame everything else. You should not feel sorry for behaving in a way you believed to be right."

"The next meeting, you will be at. Promise." He says and I nod slowly.

"Meeting?" I'm confused. 

"Bodhi will touch more on it," He says. 

Xaden and I sit in his room for at least another hour just... talking. He asks about the family I was fostered with and if they treated me right. He questions me on just about everything from the day we were separated to the day he saw me cross the Parapet. I fill him in on the last six years and we even talk for a moment about a shared memory from Aretia. It's nice. It's like how we used to be, just grown up. I wonder what the younger versions of ourselves would think if they could see us now. 

Xaden walks me back to my room and stops in front of the door. 

"Thank you for talking with me Ania," He says and I nod holding my arm out. 

"I should be the one thanking you," I reply with a small smile as he grips my forearm. I do the same to him and a small smile tugs at his lips. The first one I've seen since coming here. 

As I lie in bed with my thoughts, everything seems so much clearer. Now, I just need to talk to Bodhi. I take a deep breath and look up at the ceiling.

"You learned valuable lessons this week, Ania," Gleigeal says and I nod knowing that he's right.

"Isn't that the truth," I sigh.

"You're ready," He replies. 

Squad Games approaches quickly and I feel just about useless without a signet. Just about everyone has manifested their signets except for Violet and I. 

I'm impatient as ever, wondering when my signet will manifest and if it doesn't will I die a brutal death like the other first years. There's one week until the first day of Squad Games and all I can think about how nice it would be to participate with a signet. 

Bodhi has been busy helping prepare his own squad for Squad Games, so our time has been limited. I admire his dedication from afar, I would never be fit for leadership. 

Ridoc and Liam just left the gym and I'm finishing up my stretching when Bodhi enters the gym. 

"You have time for me now?" I tease as I stand up, "I was about to leave." 

"You're in a good mood," Bodhi says as he approaches me. 

The usual anger I'd feel towards seeing him is nothing but a distant feeling. Ever since my talk with Xaden, it feels like there's a weight off my shoulders. 

I shrug my shoulders in response, "I can go one more round." 

He pauses like he's waiting for me to start an argument with him, "Really?"

"Yeah, why not? We haven't had time to talk recently," I pull my right arm across my chest to stretch my shoulder. Liam had me in a hold with my arm placed between my shoulder blades and it was still sore. 

"You want to talk?" He stretches his own arms out, getting ready for our mini-match. 

I get into position with my hands up as he does the same, "Would you rather argue?" 

"Who are you and what have you done with Ani Alistair?" He laughs as he steps onto the mat. 

We're on round three and I've put him onto his back each time. 

He's bouncing on his feet, taking a deep breath when I get into position again. 

"Do you remember those stories that Xaden's dad used to tell us?" He asks as he swings at me. 

"About the venin?" I almost laugh but duck under another one of his swings. I charge at him, my arms wrapping around his torso as I try to take him down. He shoves me off of him easily and I stumble backward. "They're why I was scared of the dark forever. You really wanna bring that up right now?"

"What do you think the world would look like if they were real?" He moves in on me this time and when I swing, he grabs my arm, spinning me around so my back is to his chest. His forearm crosses my chest as he holds me in place, the other on top of my head. He has me in a headlock and is standing still so I can get my way out of it. 

My hands grip his forearm and I maneuver my feet to try and free myself, "I don't know? Ugly and gray, probably." 

There was a time when I was convinced venin were real, but until now I honestly forgot about those stories. I believed in them because I had been wholly convinced that I'd heard my father say so at one of the secret meetings we'd caught our parents at. As I grew up, I realized that that was just a coping mechanism and I wasn't remembering the memory correctly. So many of my memories felt faded and foggy and I had a hard time dissecting what was real and what wasn't. 

"Why are you asking me this?" I manage to get my feet behind him and elbow him three times in the ribs. I grab his thigh and pull his leg out from under him, he's still got me in a hold so we both go down. He lets go of me and I sit up, one leg on either side of his waist as I pin his arms to the ground above his head.

"What did I tell you about this position?" He asks. 

"It's vulnerable, I know." I blow the hair out of my face as I look down at him. "Why are you asking me about venin?"

My brows furrow as I study his features. He always had a hard time lying to me when we were kids. One time I couldn't find Beckett and all I had to do was pout and bat my eyelashes and he told me that he was out hooking up with a girl. 

He sighs and lets his head hit the mat, "Fuck, Ani." 

"Tell me," I say insistently as I let go of his hands.

We're not kids anymore and I know that batting my eyelashes won't get any answers out of him. 

"I was just asking," He says and I glance down at where his hands rest lightly against the sides of my thighs. My breath hitches but I force myself to focus. 

I have reasons for the way I handle things when it comes to you, Ani.

I replay his words in my head and understanding is on the tip of my brain. His bringing venin up was intentional. 

"Think harder," Gleigeal says and it's the final push I need. 

All of the secret meetings, the dangers beyond the border, Navarre withholding information from the public. The reason Aretia wanted to secede. It's all in front of me now, clear as day. 

Fen Riorson was trying to warn everyone. My dad was trying to be on the right side of history and my mother would've rather let innocent people die. 

"Is it true? Did you know?" I ask down my bond. 

"That is something the Colonel and I disagreed on," He says and I feel nauseous.

My grandmother was a fucking traitor. 

She knew. Everyone in charge here knows. And they razed Aretia and killed our parents just so they couldn't share the truth. 

The attacks that we've been going over in Battle Brief.

"Oh my Gods," I whisper as I climb off Bodhi. I climb to my feet brushing the sweat off my palms on my pants as I take deep breaths. 

"Ani, wait. Let's talk about this," Bodhi reaches for my arm and I pull away from him, running a hand through my hair. 

"Talk about what? What is there to talk about? You're telling me that dark wielders are across the borders and there's nothing we can do about it?" I place my hands on my hips, trying to control my anxiety. I hadn't had an anxiety attack in so long, not since the first year after my parents died, but it was looming right now. 

"Keep your voice down," He says stepping closer to me. He puts his hand over my mouth and looks around to ensure we're alone in the gym. It's reaching curfew so we're the only ones left in here. "Come to my room, we'll talk there where it's safe." 

"No!" I scream and pull away when he reaches for me again. Anxiety crackles in my chest and my breathing picks up more. "They're all dead because-" 

The feeling slowly spreads from my chest, through my shoulders, and down to my fingertips and I realize it's not anxiety it's power. 

"Now is not the time to lose your control, Ania," Gleigeal says sharply but the panic fills me regardless. 

This is officially where my power backlashes and I am in no way ready for it. The mage lights behind Bodhi flicker but I hardly notice as I make my way back to the floor. I sit on my knees and close my eyes as my hands vibrate with power.

"Ani, no," Bodhi is on his knees next to me and he cups my face in his hands, "Breathe. You have to ground." 

I haven't cried since the day my dad died, but when his hands touch my cheeks I'm made aware of the stream of tears. 

Everything is a lie. We were sent off to this college as a punishment for our parents trying to expose the truth. And we were expected to graduate and go out there and fight this war and keep up the lie. Beckett is dead. My parents are dead. Venin are real. 

"Ground, Ani," Bodhi holds my face in front of his and forces me to look at him, "Focus. I'm right here." 

"You have to go," I whisper frantically as my hands wrap around his wrists.

I witnessed Ridoc almost get frozen to death when another first-year's power backlashed, I will not be the reason Bodhi gets hurt or dies.

"I'm right where I need to be," He says calmly, but I can see the worry behind his eyes. 

The power rattles my body as I cry out, my hands clinging to his tunic. 

"I'm right here, Ani," He says, one of his hands brushing the hair from my face. 

I see the strings of Gleigeal's power flickering in and out of my vision and I do my best to grasp them. I try to shape them into something, anything. The flickering of Gleigeal's power is slowly burning brighter and brighter and I fight to contain it. 

"It will be okay," He says down my bond but I can feel his worry, "Don't fight it." 

I follow Bodhi's breathing and ignore the glass shattering behind us. Bodhi pulls me to his chest, using his body to shield mine from what I'm not sure, but I hold onto him tightly, like he's the only thing that can save me from what's about to happen. 

It pounds against my skin and I stop fighting it allowing it to crawl its way out with a primal scream ripping through my chest.

Every mage light in the room shatters all at once. 

previous | next

tag list: @lynnieluvsu @sherlockstrangewolf

[stenshale]

“they had been the one to blush first?” for our boy tarquin

from this prompt list! thank you ^_^

Tarquin reclined in his chair, stretching his legs out under the table with a quiet grunt. Any remaining work for the Shadow Dragons had been finished nearly an hour ago, and nearly all had gone home, but he could still hear the constant thrum of rain against the side of the shop over the crackling fireplace. In his hurry to make it to the shop, he had forgotten his warm leather coat at the archives, which meant he wasn't going anywhere soon. It was warm here, and if he started the long walk home now, he'd be soaked to the bone and freezing by the time he fell into bed.

And The Viper was still here, too, his pretty blue eyes scanning over some document or another, and that really shouldn't have been as much of a deciding factor as it was.

He crossed his arms and let out a small huff, staring at the ceiling so he had something to look at besides the other man. More time was devoted to pretending not to stare at him than was appropriate, especially because, strictly speaking, there wasn't much to look at, save an inch or so of skin between his mask and the brim of his big, stupid hat.

It'd been some years since Tarquin had a real, heart-fluttering, butterflies-in-your-stomach crush. He had thought, optimistically, that he was too old for it.

No such luck, evidently.

On more than one occasion, he had woken from a dream where he heard the man's low, sleepy voice, close where he rested against his head against his shoulder, rumbling and unfairly comforting, woke up with an empty feeling nestled in his ribs, and spent the rest of the day feeling fuzzy at the edges.

It was wholly unwarranted, he thought, sneaking another look at The Viper despite himself. He didn’t even know the guy’s name— or maybe that was part of it? There was an appeal to a hidden identity, of course, if their prominence in pulpy serials was anything to go by. The peeling away of layers, one by one, in both a metaphorical and physical sense, was a concept too easy and too enticing for a writer to pass up.

He wondered where the clasp of The Viper’s stupid mask was at, anyway. Or maybe he could just rip the damn thing off his face on the off chance he had reason to.

“Warm in here?”

Tarquin nearly jumped out of his skin at The Viper’s voice, only then registering the prickling warmth in his cheeks. The man’s eyebrows were raised, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement.

How he managed to look so smug with so little face to work with was a mystery to Tarquin.

“Fuck off,” he responded, crossing his arms. It came out entirely too sharp and defensive, not helping his embarrassed flush. The Viper’s delight seemed to increase tenfold.

“We could douse the fire,” he teased, document evidently forgotten, “or take a quick walk outside. That might cool you down.”

“Fuck off,” Tarquin reiterated, more forcefully this time. He just knew his ears were bright red.

“Maybe—“

“I’m going home,” he said, nearly knocking his chair over in his haste to stand. “Goodnight, Viper.”

He had nearly made it out the door before The Viper’s voice stopped him.

“Quin?”

And damn him right to the Black City itself if that didn’t make his stomach do a little flip. He stopped in his tracks, tried in vain to collect himself, and turned.

“Yeah?”

“It’s Ashur.”

Tarquin blinked, his brow furrowing, his mind working double time to try and catch up.

“My name,” he said, still smug from halfway across the room, but also… something else. Something Tarquin could debate with himself about later tonight. Or for the rest of his life.

“Right.” He nodded. “Goodnight, Ashur.”

Ashur grinned like a cat who’d caught a particularly stubborn mouse. “Goodnight, Tarquin. Get home safe.”

The cold didn’t end up bothering him much in the end, and he was idly surprised that the raindrops didn’t sizzle when they hit his skin.

[noneatnonedotcom]

behold my ultimate creation! autism knight!

simply put it's jaune but instead of being based on joan of arc he's based on the nameless knights of fairytales and arthuriana.

he'll work in any au, basic idea is he's a really good knight but he's got no idea what's going on in the deeper plot, he's just interested in being a really good knight and helping people then leaving to help others.

dude's got knight autism.

this can also work for characters like pyrrha or ruby.

Peerless: (800CP) The knights of Britain are renown for their skill, power and honour. The knights of the Round Table exemplify Britain’s virtues to an even greater extent. You? Lancelot at his height is the only one you can call a peer and he doesn’t remain there for long. Few men are as perfectly well rounded as you. Your physical abilities are enough that you could fight powerful adult dragons and demons to a draw with your bare hands or even win if you added a good weapon to your side. You’ve got unbelievable levels of martial skill in both offense and defense, across two dozen kinds of weapons, such that even without your physical abilities being so great you could slay armies. You have strategic and tactical abilities that let you lead small forces to crush far larger ones and can even make a good substitute for a king if your liege needs to spend a few months away at war, though you are far below the sort of king that can create a golden age. You have a high level of natural talent at any skill or ability you try your hand at and find it very easy to learn and train to become better at new things, quickly surpassing even the most venerable of warriors in their specialties. Of course, you would not be peerless if you did not also look the part. Among all the men in the world, only the divine could outmatch your physical splendour and even then, only by a touch. Your king might frown on the hordes of maidens that lust after you but you really can’t help it, as you gather admirers and love interests even when fully armoured and masked. Just something about you.

Mysterious: (100CP) "Enigmatic, mysterious, people stop to stare and have no idea why. There's just something strange, different about you, at least after you get your hands on this perk. Upon purchase, you gain an air of mystery that makes others curious and questioning about you, like there's always another layer to your character or something buried further down that you're hiding.

You also become good at maintaining it.

If you act up front and casual, then people just might be a bit curious about you. If you really go all in on being mysterious, you may develop into a kind of small urban legend or have a profile in some intelligence gathering agencies."

Can’t Read My: (100CP) You got one hell of a poker face. You could be having a mind shattering meltdown while appearing outwardly as perfectly composed and well mannered to the extent even the Cloudy Sword Sect would be impressed. This is also somehow genetic, meaning your kids will be equally as good at containing their inner freakouts behind a face of serenity.

the basic idea is taking the mysterious badass and turning it on it's head. the person with these powers can't be read in any way, can't be predicted as a result. and has the skills and physical abilities to always win no matter what situation they end up in!

... they just havn't been paying attention and have no idea that they've been foiling the same bad guy's plans for the last six months and now secret relics are getting involved and magic is real I guess and why the fuck is this all spiraling out of control?

what the fuck even is aura!?!?

also why is everyone coming onto them? they just wanna save people from evil is that too much to ask?

whichever character you make the autism knight will gain unfathomable abilities but at the cost of forever not knowing what's going on and everyone assuming it was all going to their keikaku (keikaku means plan)

thoughts on which character you'd make the autism knight? it can be from any media it's a very versatile character.

@howlingday @weatherman667

@heliosthegriffin why does this feel like the shadow knight if he was OP instead of barely scrapping by? like in an au where jaune had amazing abilities from the beginning he just never bothered to look deeper into things and kept saving the day never knowing that he was becoming enemy number 1 for the forces of evil.

[raconteur-wanpi]

One Piece 1140

Finally found the time to do a small chapter review again! Haven't done one of those in ages.

For starters, now that the fight between Luffy and Gabban has begun, I love how slaptick-y it immediately is. It's a scuffle between two extremely powerful individuals, but it's entirely unserious, as it should be. Luffy will turn anything he gets involved in in a looney tunes bit, love to see those cartoony elements even before Gear 5 is used! Giant Haki Key Bonk.

Oh and of course this. This is a straight up Tom and Jerry bit. This is so much more fun to me than generic un-choreographed shounen action, this is what I love about One Piece!!! Again, we're not even doing Gear 5 yet but its influence is rubbing off on the fight direction overall, I'm so so glad about it.

And of course we get a short little Zoro and Luffy team-up. Neither of them care about this being some sort of fair duel, they just want to get the key and screw off of the castle lol. We also finally get a closer look at the Elbaf version of Gear 5! We saw glimpses of it in the beginning but it's easier to see here! I loooove that we're already getting alternate designs for it each arc!

And of course, Gabban immediately gives up. I saw some people say this reminded them a bit of Crocus, which like, yeah! They're both Roger Pirates and we saw them hang out in that cover page, it's fun to see the bit of them knowing when to give up. For starters, he was just testing Luffy and he got to see what he wanted at this point. But an extra layer to this, is that one panel with the shine in his eye, which could easily be him using future sight, and seeing what that Zoro-Luffy combo attack would look like, before they had the chance to pull it off. I'm gonna go with that interpretation for now, lol.

This panel actually particularly stood out to me. "If Elbaph is still safe." We know the God's Knights are about to attempt to kidnap Elbaph's children. And that includes Gabban's son. I feel like this nonchalance of his here, is probably gonna be juxtaposed to what might actually end up happening to Collen later. I wonder how much Gabban will get involved, or even regret his calm here, if something like that happens and his little big guy gets hurt. It almost sounds like he's either predicted, or is expecting, that something is gonna go wrong....

And here's the big reveal of this chapter! Two whole new Gods' Knights! And both of them are confirmed to be Celestial Dragons, with their family names and everything. It's interesting to me then, that Gunko is the only one who hasn't been given a family name yet.

Anyway, my bets now on Kiringham / Qilingam having the Mythical Ox-Ox Fruit Model Kirin/Qilin. I mean, the design checks out and it's literally in his name. Interesting to see a CD in a hybrid zoan form. And the most interesting part is that he has a white hagoromo! So far it's been a theory that only awakened zoans have these, and from what we've seen they're always either white or black. CP0 had black hagoromos, and so did the Five Elders, even though we don't know if they're zoans or not. Luffy, Yamato and Qilingam over here, are the only ones with a white hagoromo, if my memory serves right. What does this all mean? Hell if I know.

It's also interesting to me that Qilingam has the CD bubble-helmet, when none of the other God's Knights so far have it. Maybe he's particularly snobbish or hypochondriac about the whole "breathing mortal air" thing compared to the rest of them? Who knows. I also wonder, like with Morgan, if we're ever gonna see his non-hybrid human form.

With that out of the way though, we finally have a new Celestial Dragon clan with this! The Limosiv Family. That, combined with the 10 Families we already knew about, makes 11 out of 20 total. That is because "Shephard" is one we already knew of, it's the same family as Saint Shephard Ju Peter. Which means Summers over here is a relative of Ju Peter.

For the curious, these families of the Original 20 that we know of so far are:

Nerona

Nefertari

Donquixote

Manmayer

Figarland

Limosiv

Marcus

Topman

Ethanbaron

Shephard

Jaygarcia

Only 9 left...

Anyway, Summers asks Shamrock if he was "visiting Harald's grave or something", which instantly rings alarm bells. I think that this all but confirms that Harald had some sort of tie or relationship with the World Government. Did he work with them? Was he being taken advantage by them? It's too early to tell, but I get the feeling that he was up to no good, as most people have predicted.

And we close off the chapter with Shamrock acting very very much so like his father during the God Valley incident. Wanting to turn the kidnapping of Elbaph's children into a game? Very familiar cruelty indeed.

This chapter did let us see more of a glimpse into both Shamrock and Gunko as personalities, whereas, so far, they were a bit void of it. We're starting to see who they are as people, very interesting!

[toomanythoughts2]

You know what. FUCK IT.

Dethklok Age Regression HCs because Facebook is full of a bunch of jackasses who can't stand to let people be people in regression spaces.

+ They all have matching footie PJs that they wear during their movie nights. They all correspond to their specific instrument but it's very clearly a set of 5 (don't separate)

+ Murderface uses a white noise machine when he's little to sleep. He sets it up on the cricket sound, and sometimes, he wants cicadas and rain on a thin roof. He also likes people talking muffled from a room away or a TV.

+ Pickles has attempted to shave while regressed and has fully messed up his goatee before, bringing him to tears. Nathan had to console him while holding back laughter because he was just missing a chunk out of his goatee and he looked funny.

+ Skwisgaar has a very wild imagination while little and while have very intricate play scenes with action figures and dolls, usually portraying wizards, dragons, Vikings, royalty. He's very shy about it though.

+ You know what. Skiwsgaar also plays with baby dolls. He has a stash of baby dolls that he rocks and swaddles and gently plays with and coos because that's what he wanted growing up, and it makes him happy. He is very shy about it though and only plays when he knows for sure he's by himself. He will not play with them when others are watching or are in the room.

+ Nathan pouts a lot when he's little. Not like throwing a tantrum or getting upset and having a melt down, he just pouts. He pouts because he ate his last chip, he pouts because his episode ended, he pouts when Pickles stops petting his head, he pouts when the couch doesn't feel right. He's a very pouty baby.

+ Pickles is in charge of rubbing Nathan's back when Nathan is small. He has back issues due to his size and sometimes the pain is too much when he's small. Pickles does this already when he's big, but it's different how Nathan asks for them. If Nathan is big, he'll ask for them regularly but if he's small, he'll flop himself over Pickles' lap and pout until he gets the picture.

+ Murderface has to be physically restrained from eating his boogers. Honestly, this doesn't even have to be an Age Regression HC. He does this regularly.

+ Murderface plays in the rain. He likes to go out and play in mud and splash in puddles and pick up worms, and build dams. He likes to stick his tongue out and watch the water droplets and when he comes inside, he'll shake his whole body like a dog. His hair will get poofy. Nathan sometimes joins him, growing up in Florida, so he's no stranger to some rainy weather fun. Except he likes his water boots on.

+ Pickles will orchestrate a one-man "gig" and put together a make believe stage. He'll have a "bar" (caprisuns and apple juice in a cooler), a "bouncer" (Charles) looking for a "ticket" (a piece of paper Pickles scribbled "Ticket" on), and a tiny dancefloor/mosh pit. He'll play guitar and sing some made up song and his party guests are meant to go crazy at his concert. At the end, he has to run away from all of his crazy fans back to the safety of his room (the band plays chase with Pickles room being base).

+ You need to keep mayo away from Pickles. He will squirt the bottle in his mouth and eat it all. Once again, this doesn't even have to be an Age Regression HC, this is just something he does.

+ Skiwsgaar likes to draw his "dream house" using cut-out images of IKEA furniture. He's only allowed to use safety scissors and safety glue for his pictures. He hates them and would rather just lick the edges of the paper and tear out the images. He ends up drawing stick figures for the band because his dream house always has 5 bedrooms for all members of the band. It wouldn't be his dream house without them.

+ Nathan goes through Pickles closet all of the time when he's little. He's very curious and likes feeling all of the different textures of Pickles' old SNB clothes and look through old photos and listen to their old songs. Pickles will usually find him neck deep in old SNB stuff before he realizes he's there.

+ Toki and Murderface are tree climbers. They grew up climbing trees and it's one of the only places where they had privacy growing up, so it helps them regulate their emotions when they're too small to fully understand them. Toki likes to hang upside down while Murderface wants to get as far up as possible to see how tall the tree is. + Nathan has Pica, which is where a person eats things that are not usually food. Nathan is able to control it, as it is not a curable disorder, but when he is small, it's harder for him, so he will resort to eat things like chalk, paper, and crayons (wax). But when it gets worse, he can be found eating the furniture's leather or even trying to eat the wood off the tables (both of which are literal examples of Pica) The band has to keep an eye on hm and offer him alternatives to stop him from doing it.

+ Skwisgaar is a wiz at making snow cream and will make it when he's feeling small and it's winter. He makes it in large batches and eats his with the rest of the band out of the same tub. He made a lot of snow cream as a child as he grew up in poverty and had to routinely eat snow. Now, it's more of a choice than a need.

+ Pickles has a bike for when he's feeling small. He'll ride around Mordhaus and ride through all of the acres around Mordhaus and just explore the area, much like how he did as a small child in Wisconsin. He'll come back sweaty and sore but he'll get one of the best naps right afterwards. Charles has cameras watching him every where he rides just to be sure he doesn't get hurt or if he does, someone is there to get him.

+ Murderface likes to play old Floppy Disk games when little. He has an Apple II, an Atari, and a IBM PC. He likes playing Oregon Trail, Fight Simulator, Pac-Man, and Frogger. He'll sit and play those games for hours, much like he did as an actual child growing up. It's something about the simplicity of the game that make them so hypnotic to help.

[dragon-susceptible]

I hope you all appreciate that I slept about 4 hours last night after work gave me a migraine and I passed up a before work nap to finish and give you the second half of this chapter instead. Here you go.

They arrived at camp an hour later, near moonhigh.  Fortunately, Skor, Ram, and Andromeda were all present, and Callisto heard Runaan breathe a slow sigh of relief to see them all unscathed.  Privately they agreed with the sentiment.  The trio were visibly surprised to see the human child on Runaan’s shoulders and his hair swept to his front, a look usually reserved for his rotation with the Mooncubs, but Andromeda and Ram at least had the sense to quickly look away and choose not to comment.

Skor, in contrast, tilted his ears down skeptically and gave Runaan a pointed look.

Their leader scowled at him. “Don’t start,” He warned, adjusting his grip on the prince’s ankles.  When Skor just tilted his head and spread his hands, he added, “I can hear you thinking it.” And just as pointedly turned his back.

Callisto smirked to themself and exchanged an amused look with Skor when the older assassin rolled his eyes.  Neither of them actually commented.

“I’m going to put you down now, Prince Ezran.” Runaan warned before swinging the boy off his shoulders with a surprising amount of gentleness.  Callisto leaned on the tree beside Skor and watched them.

“Okay.  Thanks for the ride.” Prince Ezran allowed himself to be put down on the ground, and then shifted his weight back and forth a few times, taking a few steps in place. “I need to get my land legs back!” He laughed, and beamed up at Runaan.

A few hours ago they had intended to kill this child.  The dragon egg in his pack had saved his life.  Callisto wondered if he really understood the situation he was in now, isolated in the woods surrounded by people who had sworn an oath to take him.  He trusted them far too much.

“Get some rest.” Runaan told the child, and hopped up a tree to fetch his bedroll.  He didn’t bother erecting his tent, but he put the roll out on the ground for the boy. “You’ll need your strength for the journey when the others return.”

“Thank you.” The prince said politely, and curled up on the bedroll with his arms wrapped tightly around the egg, and his little glow toad pet fully awake by his head.  They would not be able to take the egg without the creature waking him.  Interesting.

Ram cleared his throat. “Speaking of, where’s the other one?”

“And where’s Rayla?” Andromeda added, frowning.

Runaan didn’t look up from the boy for a moment, and Callisto sighed internally and took pity on him. “The boy volunteered to buy us some time with the other humans.” They said. “The children were supposed to leave before night fell for another location to get them away from us.  He’s goin’ to let them know they left successfully, safely, and it will buy us an extra day before anyone grows suspicious of us.”

Ram and Andromeda exchanged a glance. “And if he betrays us?” Ram pointed out. 

“Rayla is there to guide him here if he doesn’t.  If he does, she’ll run, and we don’t lose anything.” Callisto shrugged. “We only need one of them, and this one is blood of the king.  The other prince is expendable.”

The small child in Runaan’s bedroll curled up tighter around the egg at the words, and Callisto suddenly doubted he was entirely asleep.  They would have to be more careful with their words around the child.  The assassins couldn’t afford to lose his trust, as naively given as it was.

Runaan seemed to notice too, from where he sat on a rock near the roll, and he gave Callisto a warning look. “We leave when they join us, or at sunrise.  Whichever happens first.”

Ram sighed. “So we’ve barely started and we’re already losing precious time.”

“We don’t abandon our own.” Runaan said flatly. “No matter what has happened before.  We’ve agreed she lives, and now that she fights for the same cause.  If we abandon her now, we are no better than ghosts.”

For all he was right, Callisto kept their face carefully smooth when they nodded agreement.  It wasn’t just Runaan’s honor that kept him waiting for Rayla and they all knew it.  It was also his love for her.

It was near sunrise before Rayla and the older prince stumbled into camp.  The speed of their rustling had Callisto on their feet with their glaive in hand in seconds, alongside the other assassins, and fortunately Rayla led the way into the clearing with her butterfly blades folded up.  The two were clearly in a rush, but while the human looked wide eyed and frightened, Rayla appeared mostly jittery but focused.

“You were successful?” Runaan guessed, unfolding his bowblade and returning the blades to their sheaths. 

The prince shook his head. “Lord Viren wouldn’t let me in to talk to - to talk to the king.” He said, frowning deeply.  He shook his hands in front of him anxiously. “I don’t understand why!  He even took - he stole my voice when I tried to yell through the door, and started to escort me out, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get away and get back to Rayla but he got distracted and just sent me to a guard.  I told them someone was waiting in the yard for me . . .”

“How?” Skor interrupted roughly, and Callisto glanced at him in surprise.  What did he mean, how? “With no voice.  How did you tell them?”

“Oh, most of the castle staff knows at least basic KSL - Katolian Sign Language,” the prince said, making an aborted gesture with his hands that looked like it was almost a sign. “My aunt Amaya is deaf so I grew up with it.  I guess Rayla was able to steal the thing Viren was using to hold my voice though, and she broke it, and I got my voice back before we left.  Thank you for that, by the way, again, because that was terrifying.” He said, aside, to Rayla.

Rayla cleared her throat awkwardly and nodded. “Yeah.  Sure.  It was some kinda creepy desiccated paw thingy.”

A paw?  Why would that help a dark mage take the boy’s voice?  Callisto’s skin crawled at the thought of it and they rolled their shoulders to escape the mental image.

“Time to wake up, child.” Runaan was saying, nudging the sleeping Prince Ezran. “Your brother and Rayla have returned.  We should move.  Everyone gather your packs.  The more ground we cover, the better.”

Callisto obeyed without a verbal reply, finding Skor’s packs stored directly next to theirs in the tree they’d left it in.  They handed his pack down to him before he could come get it, and he rewarded them with a perk of his ears and a faint softening around his eyes and mouth, but he didn’t speak either.  They landed back on the ground at his side, both shrugging their packs onto their backs, as Andromeda, Ram, and Rayla did the same and Runaan gathered his bedroll back up to follow suit.  

They all fell into a formation as they began to travel.  Ram and Andromeda led the way, scouting the path, and Rayla walked with the human boys near their flank.  She and Prince Callum remained close together, and Callisto followed near enough to hear them as Skor and Runaan brought up the rear.

“So, your name is Rayla, right?” Prince Callum said. “I think it’s Rayla, I really hope it’s Rayla-”

“It’s Rayla,” Rayla cut him off with a little scoff and an embarrassed tilt to her ears. “And you’re Callum, right?  Not Prince Ezran, Callum - Callen?  Caleb?”

“Callum,” the boy laughed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m Callum, that’s Ezran.  So, what about the rest of you?” He seemed to direct the question towards the group at large, glancing from Rayla to Andromeda to Ram when their scouts passed closer to them.

Ram rolled his eyes and Andromeda coughed almost politely but neither answered, and Callisto muffled a chuckle when they heard Runaan’s exasperated sigh from behind them. 

“That’s Ram,” Rayla took over introductions for them. “He’s the newest assassin other than me, and I’ve been trainin’ with this group longer.  He used to work with Silerian.  We don’t like Silerian.”

“That one’s just you and Runaan,” Callisto felt the need to interrupt with a chuckle. “No one else has trouble with him.”

“He’s hardly an irritant.” Runaan said blandly from behind them, and they chuckled lightly as Rayla rolled her eyes.

“Anyway, that’s Andromeda.  She’s one of my oldest friends.  Behind us is Callisto, they’re the healer - an’ I should.  Probably let them look at my arm.” She giggled nervously as she looked back at them.

Callisto raised their brows and quickly joined her, looking over the black marks they’d just noticed on her arm. “A bite?” They guessed, puzzled by how dark and almost cauterized the wounds appeared to be.

“Yeah,” She agreed. “They were wolves, Callisto, Xadian wolves - made of smoke.  My swords passed right through them, but they were solid enough to bite me.”

Callisto frowned and leaned close to sniff the blackened teeth marks. “The good news is they smell like ash, so they were made of smoke, and if ya keep it clean, you shouldn’t get infected.  The bad news is that if you don’t clean it until there’s no black left, and soon, it will likely leave a raised scar from the ash.”

“I’ll clean it really good when we get to the water,” Rayla promised. “But we can’t waste time goin’ aside for that if it’s just a scar.”

“Suit yourself.” Callisto shrugged. “You’ll live.” They glanced over their shoulder at Runaan and Skor, and paused for a moment to resume their position a bit between the pair and the children in the center. 

“Back in the back is Skor and Runaan.  Runaan’s the oldest assassin in Silvergrove history, and he taught me everythin’ I know about fightin’.” Rayla said proudly. “Skor’s only a few years younger, he’s one of the strongest people I know.”

Callisto was distracted by the girl’s informative chatter by Skor’s rough voice behind them growling, “Runaan.  Look..”

“I felt it too.” Runaan said, and Callisto was too distracted by the ribbon turning blood red and slipping from their wrist to note his tone.  They looked back at him in alarm, seeing the right hand ribbon falling and landing on Skor’s grip and Runaan’s, too.  Runaan’s eyes were on Callisto’s ribbon and then darted up towards the other assassins. “Andromeda, Ram, Rayla.” He said sharply, and his teal eyes widened.

Callisto didn’t like the implication of that when they turned around and saw - the other three assassins also held the blood red remains of the ribbons that had been bound to the life of the king. “How is that possible?” They asked tightly. “We’re all here.”

“I don’t understand.” Andromeda said, waving the ribbon as if to confirm it was real.

“Unless one of us is an illusion,” Ram pointed out, looking from Rayla to Callisto and Runaan. 

Runaan shook his head. “An illusion this solid requires a focus, like a moonstone or an opal, to get this far from the caster.  We would know.”

“Well we didn’t do it,” Ram said in frustration.

“Someone else must’ve wanted it to happen, too.” Andromeda said, frowning down at her freed wrist. 

“Wait a minute, what’s happening?” the older prince demanded with an alarmed frown. “What aren’t you telling us?”

How could they explain that the boy’s father was dead?  They had come fully intending to kill the king, but chosen to leave.  Yet somehow, the king was dead anyway.  They didn’t even know what had happened to him. 

Runaan stepped in before Callisto had even finished figuring out how to begin to answer the question, his face careful and almost sympathetic.  His brows were furrowed and his ears tilted respectfully downward as he stepped forward and knelt in front of the boys. “I can answer your question,” He said evenly. “But I must warn you, the answer will leave you with pain and more questions, and they will be questions I do not have the answers to.  You will be confused and hurt.  I am not denying you answers, but you should be aware of what you ask before you ask it.”

The boy held his gaze for a long moment and his lower lip trembled.  The younger prince looked horribly confused and finally a bit frightened, hugging his glow toad to his chest.  The older one broke the silence. “It’s the king, isn’t it?  He’s gone.”

Runaan nodded and Callisto twitched, wondering how the boy had guessed.

“How?” Prince Callum demanded despite Runaan’s warning about not having the answers. “I mean, you’re the assassins!  You left!  You didn’t leave any behind, at least - at least I don’t think so, your campsite didn’t seem like there was anyone else.”

“Dad’s gone?” Prince Ezran asked in a small voice, and Rayla put a hand on his shoulder as his little eyes welled with tears.

Moon damn them, Callisto felt their heart twitch with unwanted sympathy for the weeping child.  They had lost their own father at a little younger than Prince Ezran.  The feeling was all too familiar. 

“I don’t know.” Runaan answered gently, and the older prince furiously rubbed at visibly wet eyes.

“The dark mage.” Skor growled, and they all looked at him.  He shook his head. “He attacked the prince with dark magic.  Why not the king?”

“He planned to use us as a scapegoat,” Callisto followed the reasoning, frowning. “But then when we left . . .”

Prince Callum shook his head rapidly. “No!  I don’t now why Lord Viren did that, but he was my - he was the king’s best friend!  He wouldn’t.  He just - I don’t know why anyone would.  He was a good king!  He was a good -” His voice cracked and his knees abruptly buckled, taking him down on the ground next to his sobbing little brother, and he wrapped an arm around the younger boy as if automatically. “He was a really good dad.”

“If the king was killed by someone in Katolis these boys are probably safer with us than they are at home.” Andromeda said in a low tone, her brows furrowed and eyes focused as she looked at them. “Something’s happening, and it’s bigger than all of us.”

“Agreed.” Runaan rumbled, and looked back down at the children and then over at Rayla and up to the sky, where sunrise was turning the horizon red and gold. “We walk with forces beyond us now.  We keep the princes with us and alive.  I want to know what happened back there before we let them out of our sight.”

They all murmured their agreement, and Callisto edged closer to Skor to wait as the children wept.  This had just become something far, far bigger than they had anticipated.  This was no longer vengeance between nations.  This was something else, something far more chaotic, and their failed assassination might be about to pave the way for far worse consequences. They had to keep these princes - all of them, dragon and human - safe.

But from who?

Who was the real enemy, if the one they believed in was dead, and not by their hands?

Different Path Taken: Ch.2

I think I'm actually going to lengthen this chapter, there's two more scenes I want to put into it, but tumblr gets the preview because I do not have the brain I wanted to work on them.

Rating: T

Characters: Callum, Rayla, Ezran, Runaan, Callisto

Callum still insists on going to talk to Harrow one more time. because the author needed a reason for him to confront Viren and realize he's shady later.

“Wait,” Prince Callum sidestepped Callisto’s herding motion and looked up at Runaan with determination. “I need to go talk to - I need to see my stepfather before we leave.”

Those alarm bells went off again.  Runaan narrowed his eyes at the boy. “Why would we let you do that?”

“Because the fight with Claudia earlier means they already know we didn’t leave by sundown.  If you guys disappear without doing anything and then we’re gone in the morning, everyone will assume you kidnapped us.”

Callisto grunted. “We’re countin’ on that, a bit.”

“But we weren’t supposed to be here.  We were going to go on a trip to the Banther Lodge before you got here, so Ezran would be safe.” Callum pressed on. “So if I just go tell the king that we got a late start but we’re leaving now, it’s okay, they’ll think we made it out.  It’ll be at least a day before they come looking for us and anyone notices we’re actually missing.”

Runaan’s lip curled. “Why should we trust you not to betray us?”

“Callum wouldn’t do that.” Ezran frowned at him. 

“Why should we trust you not to just kill us as soon as we leave the castle?” Callum countered, glowering at him with his hands shaking. “Rayla already tried like a couple of hours ago.”

Reflexively Runaan glanced at the girl, who was scowling at Callum’s back.  She had disobeyed him to come and try to complete the mission all by herself.  He should have known. “We will be having words about that later,” He growled at her.

Callisto cleared their throat. “I hate to say it, Runaan, but . . . it might not be a bad idea.  If the boy can buy us an extra day, that’s precious time we could use tae put distance between us and this place.”

“I’ll stay to guide him to camp afterwards.  I’ll be careful, keep an eye on him, stay hidden.” Rayla volunteered.

Runaan frowned at both of them. “And if he betrays us?  No one of us could hold back all the guards of Katolis.”

Callisto shrugged. “If he doesn’t, we gain time.  If he does, what do we lose?  He won’t be able to tell them anythin’ they won’t guess on their own.  We’ll still have the other prince.”

“Rayla.” Runaan pointed out, feeling a tad brittle at the coldness in his friend’s eyes. “We lose Rayla.”

Callisto held his gaze without flinching. “Or she’s not stupid, because she’s your student and ward,” They pointed out bluntly. “And she stays hidden, and escapes to warn us ahead of time.  She’s always been good at information gathering, Runaan, you know that, and she’s volunteering.” They tilted their head and raised one inky black eyebrow at him. “Would ye hesitate if it was me?”

Runaan showed his teeth and huffed. “Would I hesitate to risk your life on the word of a human child?  Yes, Callisto, I would.”

“I can do this,” Rayla insisted. 

“It’s a risk, yes, but it’s a worthy one.” Callisto said, folding their arms. “It could buy us an extra day, and that’s precious time to travel, and we will need every second.  You more than most, Master of Blades.”

The reminder that his oaths sat further up his limbs than theirs, could easily kill him if they tightened too much, was unwelcome.  His life was of no consequence if giving it completed their mission.  But then, that was the very point, wasn’t it?  Neither was Rayla’s.

Runaan grit his teeth and glowered down at the boy. “Go.” He said shortly, and looked at Rayla. “Stay hidden.  Stay alive.  If you’re not back by sunrise, we leave without you.”

She nodded firmly. “I know.  I’ll be there.”

He hoped she would be, but he couldn’t afford to spare more words for her with Callisto’s sharp eyes boring into his shoulder.  He turned instead to the younger prince and the large dragon egg he carried. “Let’s go.”

The princes paused to exchange a hug before splitting up, and he and Callisto ushered the younger one towards the gates on high alert.  There were still no guards.  Even the citizens of the castle town were abed and no one was present to catch them slipping through the streets and over the bridge.  They made it to the woods without a single incident.

Runaan sent a private wish up to the moon that he hadn’t just sent his daughter into a trap.

They had been in the woods for almost an hour when Prince Ezran began to fall behind.  He had refused Callisto’s offer to carry the egg for him, wisely pointing out that they could just take it and leave him if he permitted that, and they had exchanged glances and let him keep it.  On the slim chance that this was right - the whole reason Skor had agreed to this plan was the potentiality for proving the children’s honor, and they would need working hands to carry the egg anyway by the end of the journey. 

“Slow down,” Prince Ezran fussed from their heels. “I have little legs!”

Both assassins paused for a moment to let him catch up and Callisto shot Runaan a look, quirking a brow at him. “I know I agreed, too, but this does sort of prove my point about them slowing us down.” They said quietly.

Runaan flicked his eyes over the boy and then quirked a brow back at his second. “When was the last time you took a rotation with the Mooncubs?”

Callisto blinked, clearly caught out, and cleared their throat, looking away. “I’m an assassin, and not also a parent.  It’s . . . been a while.”

“You should stop dodging it when we get home.  It will do you good.” Runaan replied as Prince Ezran managed to catch up, the boy panting a bit but bravely pushing on.  He crouched in front of the young human instead of turning to leave. “We will cover more ground if I carry you.” He said bluntly. “I understand you do not trust us with the egg alone, but we need to move faster than this.  Would you rather be held in front or on my shoulders?”

Prince Ezran blinked at him, mouth opening in surprise, but then nodded. “O-okay.  Um.  I like the shoulders better, but the egg is really heavy, and I don’t want to fall backwards.”

“You can hang onto the horns.  Most children do.” Runaan assured him, reminded harshly that children were children regardless of their origin.  The boy was so much like the cubs back home. 

“That won’t hurt?” Prince Ezran asked, curiously, even as he raised his arms to allow himself to be picked up.

Runaan scoffed, finding himself unwillingly amused as he picked the boy up and hoisted him to his shoulders. “No.  I can’t feel the tips.  Just be careful of the hair.” He swept it aside as he settled the child on his shoulders, habit making the movement easy.   Moon above, the egg truly was heavy - that or human children were heavier than he’d anticipated.  He was impressed the boy had made it this far. “Ready?”

He felt a faint tug at the base of his horns as the boy gripped them. “I’m ready.  Um, thank you.”

Runaan settled his hands on the boy’s ankles to strap him in further and set off towards camp again.  Callisto scoffed lightly as they resumed their journey. “Shame you’re not a father, Runaan.” They said. “You’d be good at it.”

Damn them.  What was it with them and Skor, always after him to claim Rayla even though her parents were very much alive?  Things were awkward.  And what business was it of his - yes, very well-meaning - friends anyways? “We’re not talking about that now.” He said flatly. “You know why that is.”

Callisto just hummed skeptically and let it go as Runaan picked up the pace to avoid the conversation.

[manglam-marfach]

I am all about this

Truly I may be exclusively about this.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 234

More of the Tiamat Au? More of the Tiamat Au! 

Sharing a body was strange. Ten limbs split between the nine of them- thirteen if one counted the tails and seventeen if one counted the fact that their cloak… skirt… whatever could mimic the wings of their other form. 

One which they would change back to after a few moments- there was much less stumbling when it was all fours. Not to mention that if not for the tails they’d have easily toppled over with how many arms they had making them slightly top heavy. Okay more than slightly, it was taking a bit to adjust. 

Honestly the fields of wheat and other crops did nothing to hide them with how tall even this body was, but it was still better than nothing, and they were using the fact it was the middle of nowhere to their shared advantage. 

At least the humanoid- not human, even now their shared power thrummed through the air, leaking from them- form was smaller than their true draconic one. Well, perhaps they shouldn’t call it their true form, when they were once all human, halfa and liminal alike, but they’d long since stopped being such. So perhaps it was in fact true to call the form they had become as their normal state now. 

Actually, could they even separate now? Or had their power melded together so much that it was impossible now, and an attempt would end them? It would at the very least crack their core- 

“What the fuck.” 

Their head lurched, a little too far if the jolt of pain was anything before it melted away. They were all too used to moving their own necks separately. But all of them agreed that discovery could not happen-

Oh.

It was a child. A preteen with red-orange hair, blue-green eyes, expensive clothing, and most damming of all, large swaths of bruising across his arms. Bruising that did not come from usual play, and looked far too much like hand prints for any of their comfort. 

Someone had very much not been taking care of this child. And that really made them quite angry. 

[a-gay-bloodmage]

Day 22: Camp 

(Blackwall x Mallory Trevelyan)

Sticking to his plan to keep dressing like a woman after being caught in the Conclave in his feminine attire sounded like a great idea at the time. Now, stuck out in a camp in the middle of the woods, Mallory Trevelyan is realizing just how tough it’s going to be.

[lifeofaninstigator]

Alfons' words encouraged him. It helped to know his friend didn't mind helping him out. That was the most important part. Ed didn't want Alfons to feel he was wasting his time with this. "I really appreciate the help, and the time you're willing to give this. I know you're busy with your own work." And Ed intended to be mindful of that. He wouldn't ask Alfons to give too much of his time but spread it out to something more reasonable.

Ed nodded. "Sounds good to me. I think it's best if we start with the basics. I can show you some arrays and what they're used for." He pushed some of them until he had them arranged the way he wanted. It would be hard to give Alfons a crash course in alchemy considering how many years he had dedicated himself to the study of it. But he would do his best to explain everything as clearly as possible. They would need to start off slow, and he would need to give Alfons time to ask questions. Ed was certain he would have a lot of them by the end of tonight.

It helped that Alfons had a good grasp of science as a whole. Alchemy was its own type of science, but it did follow some similar rules and principals. He just needed to get his thoughts in order and figure out the best way to dive into all of this without leaving too many questions unanswered. Ed waited for them to both get settled in. He wanted to make sure Alfons was ready to do this while giving his friend time to take all of this in. It would look daunting to someone who didn't understand the words or arrays on the pages.

He smiled when Alfons uttered the word Amestrian. "I would offer to teach it to you, but that would probably take more time than we have. So it seems better to translate it for you, though if you're interested, I could teach it to you." It would be nice to have someone else in this world who knew how to speak his language. Ed had a real learning curve picking up the language in this world. Fortunately, he was able to learn it faster than he had anticipated.

"Thanks for trying at least. I know how it must sound to you, and how unreal it seems. If someone had come to my world and told me they were from another world, I would've had a hard time believing them too, but here I am, far away from a place I called home, starting from scratch to make it in a world that frankly feels like it's falling a part right now." They didn't talk much about the war, and it wasn't as if there hadn't been wars in his world. But this was something different. The whole world seemed like it was at war here.

Ed didn't want to stick around for any longer than he had to. Not with the ways things were going here. Not with his brother so far away from him. Despite how much he had come to care for Alfons, Ed knew he didn't belong here. And the last thing he wanted was to get pulled into a war as a soldier. That had been one of his biggest fears since he came here and figured out what was going on. But he kept those thoughts to himself. Somehow Ed knew that saying those things would only hurt Alfons.

He watched as Alfons looked over the arrays he had laid out. Ed could see the curiosity in Alfons' eyes over them. Good. He wanted Alfons to be curious about it. It would make their research go more smoothly. Ed grinned when Alfons pointed to one of them. That was an easy enough array to explain, a good starting point. "This one creates a basic figure out of dirt or clay." He turned the paper a bit. "See how these lines intersect with the circle. They're responsible for what form you want to make. If you change the line here just a bit, it will make something different."

This was going to be the hard part. Explaining these things without being able to show Alfons the final product. It would have been so much easier to explain if he could show Alfons exactly how alchemy worked, but since he couldn't he would have to settle for explaining it the best he could. "As it is, it would create a small dragon figurine. It was one of the first things I learned to make from alchemy when I was a kid."

Alfons gave him a good-natured shrug and a small smile. "It's alright. I have some free time the next few days, and it's been a while since we researched something together." And he did genuinely enjoy working and researching with Ed. Granted, he'd had a better understanding of what they had been looking for during previous projects, but there was something about the importance this particular subject held for Ed that drew his precarious curiosity.

Though judging from the amount of material Ed had set down, he was going to need more than a little curiosity to get through it all. It was going to require a long-term dedication that he'd have to put real time and effort into. Probably not as in-depth as his work with the rocket, but considering there would be that much to learn and he was starting from scratch, there was a distinct possibility that it could become a close second.

But if Ed was ready to begin, then so was he. He'd plunge in head-on and put his uncertainty on hold. If he was going to do this right, he would have to at least try to do that. So he gave a decisive nod, a simple first step in the crash course for something only a few hours ago he would have dismissed as nothing more than an ancient pseudoscience. "Alright," he agreed. "We'll start from the beginning and keep going as long as it takes to get through everything." He wasn't quite ready to believe in it, but he would have to treat it as if he did if he wanted to try to fully comprehend what he was studying.

And considering he couldn't make out a single word or interpret any diagram in the notebook he was flipping though, it was undoubtedly going to require that kind of attention. Alfons stared back at Ed when he confirmed that what he was looking at really was the language only Ed knew. "Amestrian..." he mused softly to himself as he glanced back down at the page. Even knowing what it was didn't make it any clearer, though if it really was what his roommate said it was, of course there was no way that he'd have been exposed to anything like it.

He raised his eyes back toward his roommate again when Ed reiterated what this was and what it really meant. Studying his face, Alfons couldn't see a trace of insincerity or deception. Ed really meant every word he said. And if he'd never shown this notes to anyone else, that meant that he was trusting Alfons with a part of himself that he kept closely guarded and that he was taking a real risk revealing any of this at all.

Alfons took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he closed the notebook and set it back down on the top of the box, straightening up to meet his roommate's eye. He could clearly see that need for belief reflected in golden eyes, how important it was to him for Alfons to truly know this was real, and though it still seemed impossible, that shadow of uncertainty in the face of the mysterious language hadn't faded, and coupled with the sincerity he saw in Ed's face, he couldn't deny that tiny seed of doubt in his own conviction planted in the back of his mind.

"I'll try," he finally agreed softly. A slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips, somewhere between an intention of reassuring Ed and a slight confusion that he was actually willingly going through with trying to accept something that could completely break his own established view of reality. "I won't be able to fully dedicate myself to understanding what you're trying to teach me if I don't at least try to keep an open mind," he relented. "It is strange, but if that's what I need to do if we're going to properly research this together, I'll do the best I can."

With one last glance down at the box, he stepped over to the table and pulled out the chair next to Ed's to sit down beside him. Blue eyes flicked between the arrays his roommate had laid out and Ed's face as Alfons tried to reassure himself that this was actually going to work. Well, they'd already gotten his far, so the only reasonable choice was to continue moving forward. So he pointed to the array drawn on the sheet of paper closest to where he sat and asked, "So what does this one mean?"

[impossible-rat-babies]

the intimacy of the memory fragments + the mind connection with solas is nuts to me

[dragonagedidiot]

Solas has never and will never stop lying

Even at the end of the game, he lies and lies and lies

That doesn't mean everything he says doesn't have some truth tho

[beeapocalypse]

a great number of sphynxes have that sort of 'human face on animal body' build to them bc thule got stuck on how to best make a mockery of drakes for a long while. humanity as a whole in alamannis seen mostly as a companion piece to vennettes- less varied and more delicate, yet inextricably linked with the most widespread species of the planet- so with drake relations to vennettes always just a bit Shit somehow insinuating that even humanity was more close to divine dragonhood than they was a stinger. a bit too petty though they eventually settled on instead an ominous fullcircle warning of the future their constant ambitions would bring with the more corvid leanings that the vascohse would end up with themselves

[emmathefanficgal]

@konartiste Thank you for the tag! CAKE is a nice word! (I love baking cakes) and I decided to share some excerpt of my orignial works and one LOTR WIP... Who knows? It might motivate me going back to them.

Disclaimer : all those WIP need heavy editing and correction. please be kind! 🤣

C-Boromir's special day - A story about Faramir remembering his big brother. (This letter!!!!!!)

Clearly, something was bothering him. Something about today. He shook his head, too tired to remember, but there was reason to smile on this beautiful morning. One of them was still fast asleep at his side, blond hair splayed across the pillow. Faramir had to stop himself or he would have kissed her. But he knew his wife better than that. And he had no desire to wake the dragon she might be. As quietly as he could, he left the bed and after a quick wash of face and hands in cold water, he put on his clothes. One last look at the form in the thick wool of their bed and Faramir left.

A- The Saga of the Rising Moon - An original work, left on the page. I started writing in French and then found it too difficult. Another WIP. The story follows Aysun, the daughter of the moon god. It is in the aftermath of another war between the gods. And there is a particularly nasty one that Aysun is trying to stop. But things are never what they seem.

At those words, the leader reacted with a small snort. Then Jarek realized that she was a woman. A rich woman with two bodyguards? Did she even know how to use that sword? But he knew that a wrong assumption could lead to a quick death for both of them. So he kept his guard up while he added with a slight bow, "My lady, I understand that this is an unpleasant moment for you. But we can end this quickly with a little help from all of you. I'm sure you want to reach the warmth of an inn as much as we do. Give us what we ask and then go. As I said, all we need is a few coins and some clothes. Then you and I can go back to our respective lives..."

K - In the name of God - An original work I have stopped working on for a while. Set in a world that looks like a "Conan" movie but in a post-apocalyptic time. Tribes at war, political and religious turmoil. The heroine has been chosen by a god... And it is the cause of a lot of trouble, not the least because the God of War has chosen a woman as his anointed.

Kassara shook her head and looked at Kestrel, now lost in thought. With a grin on her lips, she walked towards the fragrant shop of a baker, well aware of her old friend's weakness. She wouldn't let him brood over it, and she wouldn't let her mood darken either. She hid her laughter behind a cough when Kestrel, finally realizing where they had stopped, made a small rumbling sound with his throat.

E - The Dark Lady by the Sea - Original work. Finished but not edited yet. I am stalling… It is a VERY long work and I know I still have so many things to find to make it better. The story is set in a medieval fantasy where magic is hardly present. We follow Domicia and Joscelin and the conflict between the nations of Callistina and Worlingar (names to be changed) that threatens everything they love.

Even though they were rumors. Though some of the peasants and citizens had heard them, most of the Callistinans had been relieved. Mathias was known and respected. To have him replace the Mad King had been a blessing to many. The Holy Empire had made a mistake. Did they really think her people would overthrow her? But stranger things had happened, and so Domicia would not ignore rumors and small skirmishes. She would come and talk and fight. But it was exhausting. And she knew that an accident could happen quickly outside of the castle. Who could stop an archer from shooting her? She never thought about it while she was riding. But when she was back in her room or in her command tent, she lay in the dark with her eyes wide open. She could have died today. Every day she was lucky to be alive. They had to find a way to stop this. At any cost. But was there a solution without bloodshed?

WIP Word Train

Rules: tagger gives a word, then for each letter of that word you share an excerpt from your WIPs that start with that letter.

Thank you to @hobbitwrangler !!! ♥️ I tried to follow your lead by using a different WIP for each letter, though that was hard because I don’t usually have too many going at once! In any event, my word was GIFT.

G — A Sister’s Son (the birth and death of Théodred from Elfhelm’s view)

Grimbold was already at work restoring order to the ranks, arraying men and arms where they would be needed should the retreat of the enemy prove only temporary, but Elfhelm had no mind for those tasks now, knelt down in the freezing rain at Théodred’s side. Have pity on us, Béma, he pleaded, equal parts desperate and outraged. He isn’t yours to take.

I — Untitled Prequel to Askance showing Vidumavi and Valacar meeting and falling in love

[Vidumavi:] “If what I’ve heard of Gondor is true, their prince may be more comfortable taking his guidance and direction from Vidusunus or one of the other men.”

Vidugavia laughed and shook his head. “I’m not worried about giving Valacar a little discomfort. No one ever got smarter or stronger or braver by being comfortable. If he’s truly here to learn, he’ll do well to take his lessons from you.”

F - Untitled fic about Dúnhere and his wife Lithcynd, the architect of the muster of Rohan

Four months shy of thirty, striding around in a decidedly unladylike pair of trousers with a messy top-knot and a mouth that inclined toward profanity, no outsider would have pegged her as the Lady of Harrowdale or the finest logistical mind in Rohan.

T - Sleepless (little character study of Elfhelm up late one night on the road to Minas Tirith)

The barrier between what a man thought and what he would say aloud grew its thinnest in the moonlight, and Elfhelm found himself drawn aside more often after dark by those with a sense of urgency to their words, a need to share worries and hopes or to unburden secrets before the chance was lost forever.

No pressure tags to @konartiste @sotwk @torchwood-99 @foxinarda @lady-of-ithilien or anyone else who’d like to give it a try. Your word will be STAR.