#I just wanted to see what a more formal scion outfit could possibly look like

[shining-scion]

This was. Going to be a lot brighter and happier! But then I remembered the catacombs grind.

[sith-shenanigans]

18, 19, 26 and 27 for your choice of ahene and sirue :0

You said “my choice” and I like to talk, so I’m choosing both of them. ^^;;

Ahene:

18. What did they find abroad, and what did they remember?

Ahene has been a lot of different places on a lot of different planets, and what she found has mostly been weird Force things. Especially ghosts. There have been a lot of ghosts.

The parts she remembers fondly, though, are the times post-class story when she had the opportunity to claim an artifact personally, when she and Talos (and occasionally some combination of the rest of the crew, but always Talos) got to go down into some ruin and figure it out like a puzzle. No politics, no expectations, just the opportunity to let down the facade a little bit with one of the few people she can actually count as a friend.

Now, most people wouldn’t consider ancient tombs to be the best place to do that, but she’s not most people and that really is her idea of fun, so it works out. Somehow.

19. What were your character’s deepest disillusions? In life? What are they now?

I’m… not sure quite what this one’s saying (‘in life?’), but I’ll do my best.

When Ahene was a young child, she wanted to join the SIS. The idea of being a spy appealed to her (you get to Know Things, and figure out what people are hiding, and sneak around) and while Verios was closer to the Empire, its political sentiments were much more strongly Republic-aligned. Being a kid, the part where you have to be a Republic citizen didn’t really cross her mind… but, anyway, after the invasion? She spent a couple years thinking the Republic might show up and rescue them all.

She is of the opinion that her younger self was inexcusably naïve.

Ahene also went through a lot of the class story hoping to, at some point, disappear into the endless night and go looking for Sirue. But the time never seemed right. Zash’s expectations were too immediate to risk running, and then there was Thanaton—and then she was part of a power struggle, and moffs were choosing sides. Things just kept escalating until it was too big to back down from, until there were too many people involved, until there was no way out but through.

And then the Council.

And then Makeb.

She should have known better than to think leaving was an option.

And she should have known better, after KotFE and KotET and all the things she built while saving the galaxy, than to think it wouldn’t come crumbling down around her.

She should have known better than to think she could do this the right way.

Always and ever, no way out but through.

26. What does your character’s home look like? Personal taste? Clothing? Hair? Appearance?

She’s lived a few different places, but they all have some commonalities. Her living space tends to be surprisingly austere. Sith—especially powerful ones—generally tend towards whatever extreme suits them, ominous or lavish or cluttered with whatever interests them (or, often, some combination of all of those). Hers is just… functional. Sometimes there are datapads lying around, or occasionally a coffee mug that 2V or a cleaning droid hasn’t had the chance to spirit off for washing yet.

If you had a way of looking, you could always tell the places she’s actually lived from the places she inherited from Thanaton and never used; the latter still look Sithly and pristine, and the former have been rearranged by someone who really doesn’t want to sleep in a bedroom that feels like an evil cathedral. She would like her bedroom to feel like a bedroom, thank you. A normal one.

27. How do they relate to their appearance? How do they wear their clothing? Style? Quality?

This is where I mention that Ahene is a nonbinary woman, and also that she has mild/occasional chest dysphoria. She doesn’t ever get top surgery, though, even though Star Wars medtech would probably mean a very short recovery period—she doesn’t actually want a flat chest, she just prefers clothing that keeps it covered and doesn’t draw the eye there.

She also has an entirely non-gender-related dislike of fancy Sith robes, possibly because she resents any outfit a droid has to help her into. Or maybe she’s just ended up slogging through a swamp in full formal dress more than once, because official visit and unforeseen circumstances collide with alarming regularity where she’s involved, and there aren’t enough showers in the galaxy after an experience like that.

More generally, she takes a fair bit of pride in the way she looks. She knows the kind of power appearances have, she knows how she wants to be seen, and she makes an effort to look polished. (Her hair definitely doesn’t stay slicked back like that without a lot of space hair product.) She likes grayscale clothing, with sharp, clean lines, stays meticulously clean when she’s not actively slogging through the wilderness, and does very… particular things with makeup. Or, often, 2V does, because when she does too much of his job herself he has a small nervous breakdown, and sometimes it’s easier just to take pity on the droid.

Sirue:

18. What did they find abroad, and what did they remember?

Sirue has traveled across a lot of the galaxy—or more of it than most people ever will, at the least, and that’s still only a tiny tiny fraction. She couldn’t see it all in a thousand lifetimes. And that’s part of what she likes about it. She doesn’t have to stay anywhere too long, bouncing between stars until all the planets start to blur together, a new job on every horizon. It’s the freedom to move, to fly, to leave her mark and be forgotten.

She’d like to say that she forgets everything but the good bits, the exciting bits. The bits where she lived fast and won big and did things nobody else could.

It’s a damned lie, but she’d like to say it.

This is what she remembers: there’s no justice but what you make, there’s no odds that aren’t fixed, and everyone’s wrong when they say they’ll be lucky forever. (Except me, she’ll tell you, and wink.)

19. What were your character’s deepest disillusions? In life? What are they now?

Sirue wasn’t a born cynic, but going from political scion to Imperial slave at the tender age of eight will leave you disillusioned with just about everything. She lost more than a lot of people ever had, and it taught her that power was just a word for how many things you can break. Nothing means anything unless you have the bigger gun. Forgetting that was how she ended up getting betrayed by her best business partners—though she got off the last shots in the end.

That said, none of that means you have to break the wrong things, or shoot the wrong people. She’s not some kind of petty schoolyard bully. But she doesn’t believe in anything she can’t ensure herself, and she will go to some kriffing terrifying lengths to ensure things herself.

26. What does your character’s home look like? Personal taste? Clothing? Hair? Appearance?

She lives in her ship, of course, and it’s about as organized as anyone could expect from the living space of a motley group of criminals. The captain’s quarters aren’t outright messy, but sometimes things get set on the floor. And she collects horrible knicknacks. And then there’s the trophy case with the lightsabers in it, and the guns on the wall, and all the other miscellaneous items she’s picked up off her enemies to prove that she lived and they didn’t. Everything needs a memento; that’s how you keep score.

27. How do they relate to their appearance? How do they wear their clothing? Style? Quality?

She goes through horrible places on a regular basis, she’s worn the same jacket for at least a decade, and… actually, she’s pretty hygienic when it comes to personal grooming. She’s been through grubby grimy hell, sometimes she just wants to feel clean, gods, is that too much to ask? Looking pretty isn’t exactly a priority for her, though—she’s gonna be a scruffy smuggler unless you give her a damn good reason not to be, ‘cause otherwise people start noticing those delicate features that make her so clearly her father’s girl, and…

Well, she’s done a lot of things that weren’t exactly morally sound, but she can look at herself in the mirror without seeing her father, and that’s important. If she dresses up too nice, she starts thinking a little too much about futures that weren’t hers.

[ranier-layarte]

Wedding Headcanons, Ranier and Alisaie.

Originally posted by dailyrapunzel and stolen after from @catte-bard

Where they get married

Ranier's Mansion for the private ceremony. Sanctum of the twelve for the public one as Ranier would like to give her a very big eventful day to celebrate.

When they get married ( ie what time of day, what month and season etc. )

A nice spring day, during the morning so they can have the day.

What traditions they include ( do they get married under a chuppah and crush a glass, garter toss, ‘something borrowed, something blue,’ etc. )

Nothing that either could think of.

what their wedding cake looks like

….Who smashes cake into whose face

 He wouldn't dare to do that to her with the cake. Which is why Alisaie would definitely smash it into Ranier's Face. At which point he would declare war and grab a piece to chase her with.

Who proposed to who first.

Ranier proposed to Alisaie, though it was a very spur of the moment decision. He was hoping to have the perfect opportunity but a mistake made sure she saw the ring ahead of time.

Who walks down the aisle and who waits at the altar ( or neither )

Ranier at he altar incredibly nervous while she walks down the aisle.

What their wedding dresses / suits / other look like

I'll just link this. https://ranier-layarte.tumblr.com/post/183012799406/on-this-vow-i-pledge-my-life-to-walk-fates

What their wedding colour scheme is and what sort of decor they have.

Blue and red to symbolize their respective colors. Along with a lot of white.

What flowers are in the bouquet ( if applicable. bonus: what do the flowers mean? )

Blue Gladiolus and Roses for Strength of character Faithfulness, sincerity and integrity, Never giving up and love.

what their vows are ( eg poetry, traditional, improvised etc. )

Already done in the link from their outfits but here it is again.

Ranier’s Vows

“On this vow I pledge my life” “To walk fate’s path with my wife.”

Even should my body break, and my fated end be near, I shall fight with all my might for you; no man nor beast I fear. 

Officiant

“Alisaie, after me, I ask you to repeat. “These vows of faith shall make you complete.”

Alisaie’s Vows “On this vow, like a rock I stand "To walk fate’s path with my husband.”

Even with my magic spent, and my faithful sword broken, My spirits of love are summoned true; these words, they must be spoken.

If anyone’s late to the wedding.

If anyone's late Ranier is having a word with them as soon as he can.

Who’s in the bridal parties / groomsmen / other.

Ranier and Alisaie's Family, along with all of their friends so the scions and the other Azure Talons. Gerolt and Cid if they can attend. Perhaps some other figures that have been impactful to them like Papashan for Ranier.

What their bridal party / groomsmen / other are wearing.

Dresses and suits tailored for them by Ranier and his fellow craftsman. Made in black and blue for accents and black and red.

Who gives speeches at the reception ( bonus: what do they say? recount a sweet memory or two between them? tell an embarrassing story? )

There would probably be a few. Ranier himself wouldn't be able to help himself from giving a speech about how much he adores Alisaie and what she means to him, such as the following.

“There is no one for me on this earth, when I look into your eyes I can't help but smile. My fondness for you only grows the more I am with you. Just seeing you smile could make the darkest day bearable, I would do anything for you. Alisaie, you've made me the happiest man today.”

Then more than likely Cid and Alphinaud along with his father doing of their own. Cid regarding the many times they've spent working together and their accomplishments. Alphinaud still somewhat shocked his sister is getting married and stuttering some as he tries to congratulate them. Kyran (Ranier's father) Speaking of how he's glad their family has regained their son and they are able to witness this event.

Who catches the bouquet( s )

Alphinaund or Cid.

What their wedding photos are like ( are they sweet, with the couple holding hands or kissing or ~gazing into each others eyes~? are they silly, with a snapshot of the ‘cake-smash’ moment? or are they artistic, with one of them facing the sunset or holding their bouquets? )

Kissing at the altar, holding hands talking together, maybe one of them posing with everyone.

What sort of food they have at the reception.

Completely catered by Ranier's servants. A massive spread of foods to regale the guests appealing to each of their tastes  and cultures.

Who cries first during the ceremony.

Honestly, Ranier. He wouldn't be able to hold back once they are married. But he would still try to keep himself from losing his composure before smiling.

How wild their reception gets ( who dances the best, who gets drunk first, etc. )

There will be a dance off, blame the alcohol.

What their rings are like.

Ornate platinum designs with crystals to their colors in Ruby and Sapphire that wraps around.

What sort of favours they have ( heart shaped sparklers, mini champagne bottles, personalised candy etc. )

Gift baskets for every attendee full of goodies ranging from snacks to a custom piece of jewelry from Ranier to let them know what they mean to both of them.

Where they go for their honeymoon.

Sharlayan if possible, otherwise wherever she may want.

Something memorable that happens during the party / ceremony ( do they run out of ice and someone goes to get it in full formal wear on foot, does anyone fall asleep in the middle of the party, etc. )

Someone has to get the cake that got left back at the home, much to Ranier's dismay. Cid has to console him as he has a bit of a freak out.

Who officiates the ceremony.

Ranier's mother Sahar.

What song their first dance is to.

Love grows

Who gives who away as they walk down the aisle.

Alisaie's Father walks her down the aisle.

[thehouseofsilverthorn]

The Big Day

This story piece written by @thebiganvil

The older-looking kaldorei sat on a carved stump before a cottage laying alongside the road running from Dolanaar to Darnassus.  He sighed contentedly, enjoying the cyan-filtered light of the morning moon cascading down through the heavy boughs of Teldrassil.  Hearing the padding of heavy paws, he turned and looked eastward, towards Dolanaar.  Walking their sabre’s at a leisurely pace, two kaldorei women paced into view, stopping a few hundred feet short of his home.  One was very, very tall, and thin, but wiry, like a tough river reed, and held herself with a dignity one did not often see in these times.  The other was shorter but athletic and muscular, surely a Sentinel, or at the very least a fighter of some sort.  Both wore exquisite formal gowns, one in blue, the other in white.  Both had silver hair and the palest possible skin for a kaldorei.  They didn’t notice the older man sitting just off the road.

The one in white, with the muscles, fidgeted, seeming ill-at-ease.The woman in blue looked at her, smirked and said, “Gown giving you trouble, Sil?” The one addressed - full name Silannah - glared at her without real venom, but replied, “I feel naked!  Where is everyone else?” “If you’d prefer naked, we could go over yonder,” grinned the taller woman, pointing at a stand of dense foliage further off the road. “Hilarious, Kajeda, remind me again why I wore this dress for you,” said Silannah, her face carefully set in an expression of irritation, but her eyes sparkled with mirth. “Because you know that later, I am going to take it off of you.”

The man beside the road was starting to think he should go inside. This conversation was obviously not meant to be public.  Before he could get up, however,  the two woman were joined by another party.

“Well you’ve got me th-” the one in white began, but was cut off. Both women suddenly went silent, hearing the soft thump of a pair of sabre’s paws on the road to the east.  Both relaxed and smiled as two figures came around a bend in the road. On the violet arcane sabre in the rear rode a pretty kaldorei woman, dressed in an unadorned white shift.  Ahead of her, riding a magical ruby cat, rode a kaldorei male.  Both shared the same pale skin and silver hair as the first pair, but the male’s skin was covered in scales and short horns sprouted from his head.  He was dressed in ancient kaldorei fashion for men, a long black kilt around the waist, trimmed in silver thread; he was shirtless, baring his shimmering red demonic tattoos to the air.  Wrapping his ruined eyes was a red cloth, the green felfires he had in place of eyes ever so slightly leaking through.

The man beside the road hissed a quiet whisper towards the door of his home, “Nadyia, come out!  You’ve got to see this.”  A lovely women joined him outside, outfitted in well-worn leathers, her turquoise hair - complimenting the man’s own dark green - pulled back to allow her to work.  She ducked back a little, instinctively, at seeing the gathering on the road.  “That’s a Demon Hunter, Nadyia.  Here on the Tree.  Who would have thought…”  The woman, for her part, said nothing, watching the group apprehensively.

Kajeda, the woman in blue,  held her arms out, smiling ear-to-ear, “Forosuul, my grandson,” she cried, embracing the Demon Hunter as he tried to slip off his mount. Returning her embrace, he whispered “Thank you so much,” in her ear, to which she held his face in her hands and smiled at him, kissing both of his cheeks. Kajeda then turned to the woman.  They stood only two feet apart, both gazing at one another, eyes shining, finally Kajeda reached out and gathered the younger woman up in her arms, saying quietly, “Tindomiel, my daughter-by-choice.”  Tindomiel buried her face in Kajeda’s neck and wept.  Their joy was palpable. Off to one side, Silannah watched all of this, smiling happily at the union of her recently acquired family.  Forosuul turned to her and bowed low, saying “Cousin.” She inclined her head, “Step-grandson,” with a grin on her face. Momentarily caught off guard, he gaped at her, then shook his head, refusing to take the bait. Kajeda finally spoke once more, “Now we lack only our standard bearer, and our…special guests,” she said, grinning a little wickedly. “You lack nothing,” came an imperious voice from across the road.  With a cascade of violet, the mage Kalithil dropped the invisibility spell with which he had cloaked his party, and stood forth.  Like the others, Kalithil had silver hair and pale skin, but his skin was lined with great age and care.  He was robed and hooded in blue and gold, as was his wont.  Behind him stood two young kaldorei girls.  One with the same hair and skin as everyone else present, the other with hair of watery blue.  The blue haired one bounced on her heels and seemed to shake with excitement, while the other stood dull and silent, looking exhausted and miserable.

“Well, something is certainly up,” whispered Nadyia.  “What could this be, Radnaal?” “If I had to guess, I’d say we are seeing an old-time Gathering here.  That lady in blue, she has that Matriarchal look, wouldn’t you say?”  Nadyia nodded and went back to watching.

Kajeda greeted the newcomers, “Kalithil, welcome.  And Alsabe, and Lilybeth, is it?” The blue haired girl nodded so quickly her hair was displaced.   The other only nodded robotically.  Slipping into the ancient dialect, she continued, “We thank you all for being here to Stand with Our House on this day of days,” she said, smiling beatifically, “Kalithil, thou shall precede us, bearing aloft Our colors.  Behind thee I shall walk.  On the side of my strength shall walk my Scion, and on the side of my heart my Consort.  Tindomiel, my supplicant, shall proceed behind me, whilst our guests and retainers shall make up her train.”

Hearing the ancient dialect, Radnaal gave his mate a “told you so” look.  She rolled her eyes at him

Kalithil, also reacting to the archaic speech,  smirked knowingly at Kajeda, then nodded, and produced a simple staff seemingly from nowhere.  Wrapped around its head was a blue cloth, which he unfurled, revealing the deep blue field of the House standard, and the device, a circle of interlocked thorns, worked in silver thread.

Seeing the standard, the man beside the road was so surprised he forgot himself and exclaimed, “Silverthorn?”  At this interruption, all eyes turned to him.  He stood there, looking for everything like a deer caught by the beam of a lantern at night.  Kajeda glided over to him. “Do I know you, sir?” “Oh, um, no ma’am.  I just recognized the standard.  Your House has been around a long time.  But…well…they said you were all dead.” “Hmm..who said this?” “Oh, before I had this place,” and here he proudly thumped the doorframe of his cabin with a meaty fist, “I had one just like it outside Astranaar.  You here a lot of gossip if you sit by the main roads, keep your head down, and your ears open.” “What is your name?” “Oh, uh…Radnaal Maneweaver, Matriarch.”  Pulling his mate out from where she’d been hiding behind him, he added, “And this is my mate, Nadyia.”  Both of them bowed, somewhat awkwardly. Smiling at both of them, Kajeda said, “Well, Radnaal and Nadyia, I consider you a good omen.  It warms my heart that our House was not forgotten in the centuries of our absence.”  She smiled on then, adding in a conspiratorial whisper, “Keep this meeting quiet, will you?  We’re surprising someone,” and winked. Radnaal blushed, and Nadyia nodded her head vigorously.  Smiling once more and inclining her head respectfully, the Matriarch of the House of Silverthorn rejoined her family.

After she returned, Kalithil spoke a word of power.  Coalescing out of the mists, a great golden cat took form, one of the lions found in the warmer climates.  It was barded with blue and gold, matching his robes perfectly.  He settled into the saddle and locked the standard into his right stirrup. “Why are you riding,” asked Kajeda flatly. Arching an eyebrow, Kalithil replied, “Because there is no way this old man is walking all the way through this damn city, and my mount is majestic and lends gravitas to our proceedings.” Kajeda threw her hands in the air, conceding.  Kalithil swung the big cat around, a satisfied victory grin plastered on his face. “Oh, Kal, as my Standard Bearer, you are also my Crier.  Please announce us to all we pass.  Loudly.” Kalithil turn in his saddle, an incredulous look on his old face, “What?  No one does that any more!” “Well, you are.  You aren’t using any energy on walking, so we may as well..how did you say?  Add gravitas to our proceedings,” replied Kajeda, smiling a little too sweetly.  Kalithil scowled, but nodded grudgingly and faced forward once more.  He began to walk his great cat towards the city, the others moving to their places behind him.

Watching them proceed towards Darnassus, Radnaal opined, “Something big’s happening today, mark my words,” to which his mate gave him a look that simply seemed to say, “well, obviously.”

Upon reaching the city gate, Kalithil grimaced, raised his voice and bellowed, “Hear ye!  Kaldorei of Darnassus!  The House of Silverthorn proceeds through the city!  Behold our Sublime Matriarch, who walks behind me barefoot, like some sort of-OW!”  His head lurched forward, solidly thumped by the rock Kajeda had thrown.  Wincing and raising his left hand in surrender, he went on.  “Our Sublime Matriarch, Kajeda, returned to us!  We seek parlay with the House of Whisperwind!”  He looked back, gave Kajeda a look that said “good enough?”  She nodded, and on they went, Kalithil repeating his lines with each person they spotted. By the time they reached the Seat of Whisperwind, they had a crowd following them, precisely as Kajeda had hoped.  By tradition, if the people of the city, whatever city, wanted to witness a parlay between Great Houses, they had to be allowed.  This forced Tyrande, and by extension, Mire, to come outside and do the whole thing in public. Tyrande made the procession wait close to an hour.  Doubtless, they hoped the crowd would scatter, rendering it a private affair once more.  But with a demon hunter standing openly, and in a place of honor, with a Great House, everyone was curious.  Forosuul, ignoring their scrutiny, stood with his head high, his eyes rarely leaving his beloved.  The people of Darnassus chatted and waited.  Everyone wanted to see what this was about. Finally, they emerged.  Tyrande, with Mire on her right.  Malfurion was not present, so the place to her left was intentionally left empty.  Rather bad form; she should have had a trusted retainer or close relative in that place, but Tyrande never let slip an opportunity to remind everyone who her husband was, and how very devoted they each were.  Behind her a few retainers stood, looking confused and fidgety. Wth everyone in place, Tyrande bowed, and called out,  “Silverthorn, you are welcome in my House!  Matriarch, I am pleased to see you among your people once more!  Had we known you were coming, we would have prepared a more suitable welcome.” Lies, thought Kajeda, but she bowed even lower, and responded, “My thanks to you, Lady Tyrande, and my apologies.  I had simply assumed you would be forewarned of our arrival.  We come today to discuss a matter of import to both of Our Houses.”  As she finished her eyes darted to Mire.  Her mention of being forewarned had the desired effect.  Mire’s eyes were pits of hatred, directed at Alsabe.  Alsabe, seeing this, went utterly white and looked at the ground.  Kalithil was smirking behind his helmet, obviously enough that the helm did not conceal it. “Indeed, Kajeda.  Let all bear witness.  State your purpose, please.” “Some time ago, a daughter of your House, Tindomiel, came to Us, and, for reasons of her own, sought asylum.  She petitioned Us to be joined to Our House.”  She waited a moment, and let the ripple of surprise run through the crowd.  Concealing a grin, she went on, “Long did We debate this, as it was no small matter.  But Tindomiel’s plea touched Our heart.  We come today to announce that We have accepted her, and from this day she shall be joined to Silverthorn, and be considered as mine own daughter.”  At that the crowd was hushed, utterly shocked.  To leave the greatest of Great Houses was unheard of. Tyrande, standing opposite, seemed placid and regal as ever, but to Kajeda’s trained eyes, she was fuming.  There was little she could do to stop any of this.  She had only one card to play, and she played it, calling out, “Tindomiel, my niece, come forward!”  From behind, Tindomiel emerged.  She walked slowly forward, until she stood before Kajeda.  She kept her eyes locked on Tyrande, refusing to even glance at her mother.  “Daughter of Whisperwind, is this true?  Do you seek to leave us?  Do you do this of your own free will, free of…” here she paused, her gaze falling meaningfully on Forosuul.  “Dark influences?”  All eyes followed hers, watching Forosuul.  He stood resolute and unmoving, but the felfires in his eye sockets smoldered, sending little wisps of billions green curling into the air, and the glimmer of his tattoos flared, casting bloody light on those nearest him.  He did not flinch from who he was, or from their stares.  Kajeda swelled with pride. Tindomiel, recognizing the ploy, deflected it well, saying, “Yes, my Matriarch.  My choice to leave predates my meeting any member of the House of Silverthorn.  For if you recall, many years ago did I leave home for the Moonglade, to study as a druid.  It was then that my choice was made, even if it meant to be without a House.  But now, discovering Silverthorn, my heart has found its kin.” Tyrande’s jaw imperceptibly clenched at this.  If she attempted to refute this, the plot to kidnap Tindomiel and convince her of Forosuul’s death might be exposed.  Mire’s scheming had brought her full circle, and she was trapped.  Realizing this, her eyes darted to Mire, giving her a dark look.  Mire, for her part, was almost apoplectic with rage, and did not notice Tyrande’s scrutiny.  In fury, she began to step forward, and opened her mouth as if to speak.  Tyrande held her back, flashing her a meaningful and angry look.  Mire could not speak in this setting without leave, and Tyrande was not giving it.  Shaking with impotent rage, she stepped back.  The gathered crowd watched all of this drama with baited breath.  Darnassus was usually so quiet, they’d be talking about this for years to come. Finally, Tyrande composed herself and replied, “So be it, Tindomiel.  You shall follow your heart.  You are Whisperwind no more.”  So saying, she gave Kajeda a perfunctory bow, turned and fled inside her home, her procession rushing to keep up with her.  After they’d gone, Mire remained behind, staring at her daughter.  The crowd waited, holding its breath.  Mire had a reputation for viciousness, and they wanted to see it confirmed. She let out a single, strangled word, “Daughter…” Tindomiel cut her off with a shout, eyes flashing, “No longer!”  With that, Mire crumpled to the ground, a keening wail escaping her lips.  Kajeda, watching her, looked at her with softened eyes, almost feeling sorry for her. Tindomiel looked at her new Matriarch, saying, “She cries out for the death of her ambition, Mother, not for me.  Do not pity her.”

[leechangjoons]

Shishi had been closing up shop when she felt a shiver down her spine, and she’d made her way up to check on A-yuan, who’d already fallen asleep waiting for her to finish her latest storytelling session with her fans. 

About to shut the doors to her bookstore, she felt a strong hand block her, before a hulking, hooded figure that towered over her strode in, grabbing her wrist roughly and forcing her inside. Shishi played along, feeling her free hand rest on Bishou as he pushed her into the bookstore and closed the door quietly, before pulling his hood off to reveal a scarred, young man with a hook replacing his left hand where it should be. 

“May I help you?” Shishi asked, continuing to put on her masculine persona as he released her, calmly striding over to light one of the lamps in the room to indicate she had a guest, “After all, it’s not everyday I get someone visiting so late at night.” Behind her, Shishi’s shadow morphed and peeled itself off the wall, moving on its own with its own blade drawn towards the man in the room. 

The man’s gaunt form stiffened, before she watched his eyes meet her: he had small eyes, but they were brightly-lit like hot coals, and she racked her brains to remember who he was...before he knelt on the ground with a thump, lowering his head in her direction. 

Shishi quietly motioned for her shadow to pause, and it sheathed its blade, waiting in silence. “Xiansheng? Is there something you need help with?” she asked, wondering if he was unable to hear her or had difficulty processing the matter, “If not, I have to retire to bed-” 

“My nephew,” the man’s voice shattered the silence, and Shishi’s blood ran cold in an instant (her shadow, reacting to her emotion, drew its blade and began advancing towards the prone figure), “I have to see him. Someone told me they saw him here in Yunyang. I want to know if he’s safe.” 

Shishi exhaled, and her shadow rejoined her form, allowing her to give the man a more detailed once over. Liu Xiwen, the youngest son of Liu Feiwen, had been forcibly conscripted to march down south towards the harsh deserts near the Xiongnu’s stronghold, and she supposed she now had her answer as to what had happened to him. She’d assumed he’d been out of the picture when she took that mission that would see her flee across the plains with A-yuan in tow, but she supposed that was not the case. 

“Liu-gongzi, you must be mistaken,” she replied, steeling her heart to lie (she couldn’t complicate things, not with the Huayue Sect actively hunting her down, “My son’s name is Jiang Yuan. I’m sure the ladies who visit my store would’ve told you the same.” 

“Jiang Yuan...” Xiwen’s eyes dimmed, and drifted down to his knees as he stood up, “That is a beautiful name, Jiang-gongzi. I...apologise. I must have been too hasty. It has been a difficult time since I’d returned to the mainland, and I...was too rough earlier. I should leave. Thank you though.” 

Shishi lowered her hand as he turned away, beginning to leave before a small pitter-patter on the stairs interrupted them. “...xiaoshu?” A-yuan whined, and Shishi sighed, figuring the jig was up. Xiwen’s form stiffened once again as he turned on his heel, and Shishi watched silent tears trickle down his face when he opened his arms to greet A-yuan, who quickly barrelled into his arms before burying his face into Xiwen’s neck. 

Xiwen lifted A-yuan up, quietly patting his nephew with a few mutters of “xiaoshu is here, don’t worry about it”, before turning to Shishi once again, A-yuan still clinging to his neck tightly. “You didn’t have to lie,” Xiwen spoke quietly, though his eyes were filled with empathetic resignation as to the why, “I know why you did, though. My family...has not been well-liked. I apologise for startling you. You do not have to worry, I am not bringing A-yuan with me. After today, I should leave and venture further north, away from Yunyang as much as possible.” 

“Don’t go, xiaoshu,” A-yuan mumbled sleepily in Xiwen’s arms, snuggling up against his uncle’s warmth, “Diedie needs someone to help manage the bookstore.” He peeled himself off Xiwen, dropping to the ground and landing acrobatically on his feet (just as Shishi taught him! She would cry) before toddling over to Shishi and clinging to her leg, “We move all the time! We can go exploring together, xiaoshu!” 

Shishi began to formulate a counterargument, that maybe xiaoshu had matters to attend to up north, but Xiwen’s soft eyes staring at A-yuan saw her protests die on her lips. A-yuan truly had a magnetic charm to him, didn’t he? She sighed her assent, giving A-yuan a pat on his head. “He can stay if he wants to,” she explained, taking her adoptive son by the shoulders, “Let’s not put xiaoshu in a spot if he has other things he has to do.” 

Xiwen remained rooted to the spot, seemingly struggling to make a decision. 

Boldly, perhaps even brazenly so, Shishi approached and extended a hand towards him, a grin upon her face. Sure, she’d killed most of his family and practically kidnapped A-yuan across the plains, and she was decidedly no gongzi either, but they could cross the bridge when they got there. 

“Jiang Yunye, owner of the Yewu Travelling Bookstore,” she introduced herself, giving him a nod, “If you want to join us, I may as well make this formal.” 

“Liu Shui, youngest scion of the Liu family in Shanzhou,” he replied, accepting her hand with a firm shake, “My formal name is Xiwen, and I’d prefer you used that instead.” 

------

刘祱 i.e. 刘熙玟, because puns are funny as hell 

A direct foil of Shishi, Xiwen was brought up in a strict noble household where he was trained in the art of bladework and scholarly pursuits. Having little interest in the corruption and greed of the rest of his family, he was exiled to forced conscription in the far south after opening his family’s coffers during a famine to feed the people of Shanzhou, earning the scars on his face by his older brother (A-yuan’s father)’s blade. 

Losing his left hand during a Xiongnu skirmish, Xiwen was outfitted with a crude hook (later a complex, prosthetic hand) and eventually retired from battle, travelling to Yunyang to live quietly as a nomad: but he’d heard of a child who looked so much like his nephew that’d been spotted at a travelling bookstore and had to confirm it for himself. 

Xiwen’s title is “激流河” (”wildly rushing river”) for his unique style of swordplay combining the brutal technique of the Liu family with the punches of his prosthetic, metal hand to subdue his enemies. 

Shishi’s title is “无形刀” (”formless blade”) due to her shadow-walking technique and her and her shadow fighting as one.