#I’m starting to think death would be a kinder fate than this sore throat

[ceoofurmom]

Nothing quite like having a sore throat for 5 days and a fever for the past 3

[one-leaf-grimoire]

“triad”

Chapter 17: the waning sun

Kind of a sad chapter? I mean that's nothing new tho. But fair warning: the death is of a character that some people like a lot :( Me included.

AO3 LINK

My head still pounds as I take flight. My body wobbles, ungainly, as it’s still a little early for me to be moving around so much. Marx was right about that, at least. I squint a little against the bracing wind and bright sunlight. The sun is getting close to the western horizon. Yami and William are over there somewhere, along with the queen of the Heart Kingdom. Our enemy is over there.

No… they aren’t my enemies.

I turn my gaze back south, towards the green of the Heart Kingdom. Two words circle through my mind, again and again, endlessly pounding themselves into my brain along with the dull agony of my quickly approaching fate.

Patri… 

Elysia.

A secluded village of elves located in the strong magic region to the southwest of the Heart Kingdom, that is where Patri and the third eye traveled to after the whole reincarnation incident. I can remember now, the request to leave. I was hesitant to agree, but in the end, I convinced myself not to care so much and to move on. Unneeded anger would just make my last hours unpleasant. 

But now… that anger is needed. I close my eyes and focus on those moments before, where there was nothing I wanted more than to kill him with my own hands.

He… he killed Julius.

But it wasn’t his fault.

You can’t think about the Devil. Just him.

The memory of that dreadful moment floods back. Pain, searing through my heart as if I had been stabbed through with pure light. I remember how I screamed and writhed, and begged for it to end.

Julius… that pain… it was his.

I open my eyes. All my doubts are gone.

And Patri… you’re the one who gave him that pain.

Those same thoughts circle through my head, stoking a growing flame. A flame I need to burn away all pity and doubt that I might develop later, when the time comes. But even within this vicious spiral, my mind begins to wander.

The baby… it was a girl.

It is a girl.

I clench my fist by my side as I continue to fly. The unforgiving wind blows any evidence of tears away before they can streak down my face.

I had to do it… I had to leave her behind. If I saw that baby, everything would come crashing down around me, I know it. I can’t afford to lose any more time. The fate of the entire world depends on it.

And after all… she would be born again, into a kinder world.

With a resounding whoosh, I fall down into the dense forest, leaves and branches whipping past my body, before landing on my feet on the forest floor. The wind clears, and the bushes rustle as anyone in the area runs to find a place to hide. I close my eyes again, taking in a deep breath. The air here is saturated with mana. It’s familiar on my skin; maybe a memory of Saida’s when she possessed my body. In any case, I’m here, and it’s time to find Patri.

I walk by myself through the forest, not sure of how long my search will be.

“W-What?!”

Pretty short, it turns out. I turn at the sound of the familiar voice, freezing up as I spot a group of people hurrying towards me.

“Noelle?”

The silver haired girl leads the pack. Her eyes light up as she realizes that it is, indeed, me. Behind her runs none other than Mimosa, quickly followed by Nero, Leopold, and Charmy bringing up the rear. For a moment, I let myself smile genuinely. They are truly a sight for sore eyes. 

I stay where I am, and let Noelle throw herself into my arms. “Why are you here? And-”

“The baby-” Mimosa asks, worried. “I thought you weren’t due for a couple more months-”

I gulp nervously. “I… I gave birth prematurely. Don’t worry, the baby is fine-”

“Are you here to train us too?!” Leopold cuts in excitedly. “Gadjah and the elves have been helping us for the past few days!”

Nero nods along silently.

His excitement is refreshing; in fact, all of the kids radiate a confidence and determination that I can’t help but feel like I lack. For a brief moment, I forget the morbid reason why I’m here. These kids are the next generation, after all; one of them will be Wizard King one day. I want to answer Yes, I’m here to train you. We’ll defeat the Spade Kingdom together!

But I don’t say it.

“I’m… actually here to see Patri,” I finally respond, watching as Noelle stands back to look at me curiously. “I don’t know how long it’ll take, but I need to talk to him. Can one of you-”

“I’m here.”

My expression drops a little, as I turn around to look at the elf who just emerged from the woods. Patri looks the same as he always has, albeit with a black sclera in one of his eyes, dressed in comfortable robes. I exhale softly, my heart starting to pound at the sight of him. I’m not sure if it’s with apprehension or anger. “Hello… um…” I glance over at the kids. “Can we go somewhere private?”

Patri gives me a long look before answering. “Yeah, of course.” He gestures for me to follow him back into the woods. I turn and flash a quick smile at the kids before proceeding.

Neither of us talk as he leads me down the ancient forest path. The silence is only broken by the soft sounds of our shoes moving over the grass, punctuated by a snapping twig every now and then. I keep my thoughts to myself, my gaze fixed on Patri’s ponytail. Part of me just wants to get it over with as soon as we’re out of earshot of the others; to strike him down and take the key I need. 

But I don’t do such a thing. I keep walking, clenching my fists at my sides.

I want to do it properly. Maybe Patri killed Julius, but I still respect him as a warrior. He defeated me in battle, after all… I owe him the last respect of telling him why I have to do this.

“This is the first time we’ve been alone together since we fought.”

Patri finally speaks, turning his head slightly to glance back at me. He slows to a stop in a clearing, at the base of a large tree. Flowers dot the meadow, species that I’m unfamiliar with. A few butterflies and bees flit between the stems. “Do you remember?”

“... of course.” I smile a little, crossing my arms as I walk around to look into his eyes. He seems so calm… and oddly resigned. “It was a humiliating defeat.”

At those words, Patri’s mouth twitches for just a moment, and a sound that could be interpreted as a laugh leaves his lips. “I wouldn’t say that… you fought bravely. And you’ve grown so much since then. I mean… you’re the Wizard King now…”

His voice trails off as he breaches that subject. My breath catches in my throat, and I quickly look away. My inner flame flares up again.

How dare you… even think about him…

But it’s quickly quelled as a bird lets out a call, somewhere far above. The awkwardness is still thick, but not hostile.

“So… what did you need?”

For some odd reason, those words do not form a question. He already knows, doesn’t he?

Summoning a last bastion of courage, I raise my gaze back to his. “We’ll be facing the Dark Triad head on in two days… one of them has a power that I need to take for myself. But his gravity magic will cancel out my time magic, and my flame magic won’t be enough to defeat him.”

Silence.

Slowly, Patri lets out a sigh through his nose, his eyes closing for just a moment before flickering open again.

“...how will you take it? The same way you’ll take my light magic?”

I wince internally, his words confirming that he already knew his fate. “Y-yes… although, I don’t want to take your magic by force.” I reach up and rub my other arm, aches shooting through it again. “I can form a link with anyone with a soul. The link I’ll make with you is called a Triad, a union of three souls. Usually, we’d only be able to share memories and magic, but I need to actually take your magic this time.” I almost look away, but it’s like I said before: I owe him this once last respect. “You will likely die in the process, especially since it’s your first time.”

My words hang in the air between us, and part of me wonders if he really understands it.

“...I see.” Patri finally turns away from me, walking towards the trunk of the mighty tree. “This is why you kept me around, right?”

I raise an eyebrow, wondering what he was going to do next. “Well… I didn’t know I would end up needing your magic back then-”

“No.” Patri reaches out, his palm flattening against the wood. He exhales slowly, calmly…

“You kept me around… because you knew that my death would one day help the kingdom.”

Help the kingdom? I mean… you’re right…

“Either way… I was going to die. I knew it from the start. And I don’t blame you.” Patri lets his hand fall from the tree before facing me again. “Whether it was to unite your people… or to defeat an enemy… or even just to help you feel better, I’ve accepted my death.”

We stare at each other for a moment, the understanding settling in. My heart races still, something I thought would stop once I “convinced” him. But in the end, that wasn’t necessary.

Patri… even you are selfless. To the highest degree.

Thank you.

“Patri...”

He does what I want. Patri slowly falls to his knees, his hands resting in the grass. 

I… I wish this could be different.

“For your crimes against the kingdom…”

The words don’t feel as good as I thought they would. I feel like I’ve waited for this moment for years, and yet… I can’t bring myself to feel happy.

But I need to do this.

“...I sentence you to death.”

My hand reaches down, and I feel my mark start to heat up. Patri’s eyes squeeze shut, and I see the same glow start to take shape on his forehead.

Dyad Magic.

He grits his teeth. There’s already blood trickling out of his nose.

Triad Creation.

My hand lands on his head, and the earth shatters around us.

….

….

….

….

                                                                                      It’s dark in here…

There are people screaming.

                                                                           How dare you… how dare you…

I lived this memory, didn’t I?

                                              I stare up at the dark sky as my life fades away.

No… Patri. This is your memory. Maybe Saida was here too, but this is you.

                                                                        It hurts… it hurts so much…

The pain in my heart intensifies. Everything fades away, and I float farther into the abyss. All that exists is pain, stabbing through my head and heart. 

                                                         Please… make this quick…

I’m trying.

I sink deeper and deeper into his mind. The pain gets worse and worse, but for once it’s not mine. Patri’s soul shrinks and contorts in my grasp, like a dying animal that wants nothing more than to be put out of its misery.

A triad… between Patri, Julius, and myself.

The three of us stand there in the darkness. Julius is just an outline, just a memory of a soul. 

                          Do you really think… my love is that weak?

What did you mean by that? 

I wish I could have found it, wherever you hid it, Julius. But it’s too late.

                                                                                                    You’re… dying?

Patri’s voice echoes through my head, and I turn to look at him. He looks afraid, but there’s pity dwelling within those golden eyes.

… do not pity me. This is my fate. 

                                                                                                    But-

Don’t you dare look at me like that!

My hands reach out, and I stagger forward. Patri doesn’t even flinch as I grab his collar and shake him once, hard. I feel something building up inside, where there used to be nothing, a glowing ember of rage.

You… you KILLED HIM!

I shake him again, and again. Patri does not struggle. Something snaps, and I ball up my fist.

You’re pathetic… you’re a villain! 

                                                                                                    I know.

You killed him- TELL ME-

The memory rushes back. Agony, pure agony, my heart stabbed right through, and my life bleeding onto the stone while the sun bled it’s life into the sky.

I felt his pain…

Patri, tell me…

Did he cry? Did he resist? Did he leave this earth writhing and screaming in the same way that he entered it?

                                                                                                    … he....

                                                                                      I don’t want to remember.

I grit my teeth, seeing nothing but red. My fist draws back in preparation to punch.

You’re the most evil being on this earth!

                                                                                                    I know.

I hit him, hard, in the center of his face. Patri stumbles back, then falls onto the ground. 

I… I hate-

I can’t even finish the sentence, because it’s not true. 

I can’t hate Patri… maybe I convinced myself to hate him, but I can’t. Because, in the end, it wasn’t his fault. Everything ties back to the devil, to the original sin. And in the end… I would have done the same thing as him. I would have burned the entire world to the ground in my vengeance.

                                                  And I will.

Patri shatters into a million pieces, and the world dissolves around me. Light suddenly floods my mind, bright, beautiful light emanating from a new shard of a soul lodged within my own. For a brief moment, our souls were one, sharing all thoughts, all memories, all feelings.

Tears drip down my face as I stare up at the sun. It’s warmth bathes me, but I only feel cold.

For a brief moment… Patri shares something with me. Something I have long forgotten.

                                                  Self.

That broken ego, that barrier that once defined who I was, is momentarily restored.

The sun burns the stone around me. The light in my hands concentrates, intensifying into a long lance- no, a sword- 

Wait… wait… this memory…

My eyes widen as something drips onto my hand.

Blood.

Slowly, I look up, my gaze travelling up the lance of the sword. Blood drips down it, pooling for a moment on the handle, on my clenched fist, before splattering onto the ground at my feet. 

No… no…

Julius stands there, his stature slumped and pained… but he still stands. 

His eyes burn into mine, into my soul, but this time it’s like hellfire rather than holy light. With a hollow gasp, I let go of the handle and stumble back away from him. But he doesn’t fall- he continues to stand, and I cannot escape his gaze.

My heart pounds. I’m frozen in this horrifying memory. 

He opens his mouth to speak. Blood drips from the corners.

But he doesn’t fall.

Julius…

I can’t breathe.

You… you’re so strong…

I watch the sword dissolve away, leaving only a deep, bleeding gash through his chest, through the heart that I loved with every ounce of my soul.

I… I would have fallen.

And I did. Because here I am… stealing the soul that would give me the power to defeat Gravity. And once I defeat gravity…

I could never be like you, right?

You would have fought until the very end… but I gave up.

I am weak. So weak… as weak as I was the day I was born.

There is no love in his eyes. There is no pity. 

                                                  Why?

His lips move to form that single word.

My answer does its best to stay lodged in my throat, because I am afraid of what I will say.

Because…. The world is going to end. This all happened because of my weakness.

I want to look away, but I can’t. He’s the sunset at the horizon, and I can’t bring myself to close my eyes.

There is no future for me… and now there is no future for this Kingdom. Not without you.

I clench my fist, my resolve building.

I don’t care if I have to become the most evil person in the world… I will recreate this world!

But with Julius’s next words, the tower of my determination is struck down.

                                No… you are ensuring its destruction.

With each new word, more blood seeps from his body, down his chin to stain the white fur of his robe.

                         Either way… the world will end. Because of you.

The scene begins to fade away. The light disappears. All that’s left are Julius’s dead eyes, staring into mine through the darkness. The Self fades away with Patri’s life, dissolving away in my hands. Once again, I am left with a cold, empty soul, the two worst parts of me settling back in.

I… I am nothing.

                                                  You are nothing.

I am a monster.

                                                  You are a monster.

I will destroy the world.

                                You will destroy the world. And for what?

For… you.

…

Silence.

Then, the sounds of the forest finally fade back in around me. I breathe in, and something slips out of my hands and falls to the ground with a dull thud. 

The air is fresh. Mana hangs around me. I open my eyes to see the sunset finally gasping it’s last breath.

There’s a body at my feet. I don’t know if he’s still alive. But it doesn’t matter. I turn away, then drop to my knees. The grass is cold and wet, but it feels so… refreshing.

My tears soon join the dew clinging to the blades.

Julius…

I ball up my fist, uprooting a bit of the grass in my clutches.

You lied… your love doesn’t still exist on this earth.

I lower my head, until it bumps into the ground. My mark thuds with pain at the impact, but I don’t react.

You would hate me. 

My worst fear, finally realized.

My chest heaves as I continue to cry. Everything hurts, every cell in my body. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot something blue flitting towards me. A moth- no

Simulcia.

For a moment, I almost give in and let them land on me. 

If Julius hates me… what’s the point? I should just die, right here. 

I almost resign myself to the decision, but in the moment before she lands, my hand jerks up. With one quick movement, I swat the bug away. My eyes widen when I realize what I’ve done, and I sit up with a jolt. 

It’s not a moth. It’s a butterfly. Just… a normal butterfly. It spins in the air for a moment, confused from the impact, but then it straightens itself out and flies away.

The sounds of bugs and the wind fills the silence around me. The trees rustle on their own, the magic breathing in and out. Slowly but surely, my breath falls into the same rhythm, and I feel myself start to calm down.

Breathe.

Someone once told me to breathe. To inhale and exhale, and think of nothing but that cycle.

Cycle.

I hold up my hand, palm up towards the sky. Almost instinctively, the new soul within me stirs, and a ball of light appears. Good- I clench my fist, and the light slides over my arm like a long glove. I tense up, then punch the air. Once. Then again. And one more time. Each time, the light glows brighter, and I can feel my control already strengthening.

It… it was that easy? I open my palm again, and the light retracts into its ball once more.

All I had to do was take control of a Triad, to reach into Patri’s soul, shatter it into a million pieces, and then take one for myself.

It was that easy.

Patri is powerful. And I know Dante will be even more powerful. But thanks to his sacrifice, I now have a better chance of finding victory.

And that’s what it will be. A victory. Maybe not for myself, but for the world.

There is no such thing as myself anymore, anyway. I am just a memory. A person who was loved, but now hated. A person who once had hope, but now it only exists in my death. A person who was once human… but now has given her humanity up.

I am nothing. I am evil. I am a monster. And I will destroy the world.

I turn to lift off the ground, leaving the body behind. I need to find a place, up high, where the air is clear and I can soak up mana for the time remaining before the invasion. I need to clear my mind and concentrate all the power I have, all for my last fight.

The entire world will hate me for what I do. One more man won’t make a difference.

It is a lie.

[hopehunted]

“ 𝐔𝐆𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄, 𝐈 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐒𝐀𝐘, 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄. ” is that SHELLEY HENNIG? oh no, that’s 𝐉𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐃, born on the 27th of JULY, 2011. i heard SHE (CIS FEMALE) is a 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑 in the 𝐖𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐀. apparently, they can be PERSEVERING and BOLD but also known to be MERCILESS and GUARDED. spends most of their free time battling a bone-deep desire to flee, probably smells like METAL. is that a bite mark i see?

character inspirations: laurie strode (halloween 2018), murder coat!rick grimes (the walking dead), din djarin (the mandalorian), bigby wolf (the wolf among us), kelly bailey (misfits), frank castle (punisher), spot (the good dinosaur), trilla suduri (star wars), stitch (lilo & stitch).

you can find jordan’s stats right here, where i’ve also put all her links. there’s a good bit of info there, so i’ll just be fluffing her out a bit more here! 

— 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ; 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘'𝐒 𝐀 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐑. CONTENT WARNING: the second-to-last bullet point of this section mentions pregnancy, postpartum depression, and infant death. it’ll be marked with ***.

jordan was born and raised in rural country, far beyond fedra’s reach. their community was overlooked by the government and denied entry to quarantined zones. they were left to fend for themselves — nothing but them, the land, and a dread so thick it filled the air like smog. 

her parents died quickly - no match for the changing tides - and their farm was overtaken by insurgents. suddenly, she became communal property. no, schrodinger's orphan: simultaneously everyone's and no one's ward. soon enough, a young couple would come to adopt her. it was good while it lasted, but jordan's luck is pure shit. family is quickly associated with the ephemeral: each caretaker having taught her something different before they pass or abandon her somewhere — all of them having made a promise they can’t or don’t intend to keep. some of them offer her their compassion's warmth, while others cut like a knife. she's a sponge: soaking up their essences until there was no more room for her, or who she may have been otherwise. 

above all, jordan learned how to make herself useful. she grew older and tougher in more ways than one. in a world intent on eating her alive, jordan fought to prove her worth, earn her place in groups, and for what bit of food and supplies they could scrap together. it was a life of grit, blood, and sweat: each moment clouded by the intrinsic need to survive, pushing out the fantasy of ever letting her defenses down. there is no order in the bush. jordan doesn’t know anything else — her life revolving around a fight, always. what moments of light she has are flickers in the dark ; moments she struggles still to claim are real. it’s easier to accept a grim fate than it is to hope for a brighter one. see, around these parts, hope kills quicker than a clicker.

time passed and jordan was a woman grown, just settling in to her twenties. for once, things we’re actually going well. their camp was protected, safe. it felt odd, she thought, this moment of peace. hope crawled into her brain through her ears and settled there, colonizing her consciousness. a tender friendship and string of bad decisions blossomed into something more; something that felt.. permanent. one thing led to another and suddenly they were expecting. jordan had never had a family before, not in a true sense, but she was excited to try. the idea of creating something greater than her was an exhilarating one, as though a string of good deeds could somehow right what was otherwise wrong in the world. she was excited to assume the role of a teacher, a leader, a caretaker. never before had she wanted anything more than that.

*** the storm passed and jordan realized she’d only been in the eye of it, momentarily untouched. the unimaginable unfolded before their eyes and jordan ventured elsewhere to a place formerly unbeknownst to her. it was a place for which there were no words, no understanding to be formed of a wound of that magnitude. jordan couldn’t bear to be present. memory had no mercy. her body, aching and sore and still producing sustenance, had no mercy. people would attempt to console her and it only made her want to bite. her partner was kinder than she deserved and it only made her want to scream her throat raw. she felt as though she’d shattered into a million pieces, the shards of her embedded in her very flesh, digging deeper with every step she took. at that point, there was only one truths to be told: jordan couldn’t stay.

it ends with this: jordan walks into the bush and doesn’t come back. she leaves nothing behind — not even a note or a whispered goodbye. she's just gone.

— 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄’𝐒 𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍, 𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐘, 𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

she’s twenty-six when the grizzlies find her: a trail of mutilated bodies leading them to a woman worn. misery has made a fiend of her: she’s harsher now, her hurt branded into the scarred skin of her body.

unsurprisingly, jordan fits right in with them. theirs is the only world she knows — she doesn’t notice the barbarism. if life is one long act of violence; what makes this any different? she takes to the work easily, proving her worth and earning the mark of the bear with ease. fremont lake is home, but jordan doesn’t trust it. she finds solace elsewhere, back in the woods. she’s happiest when scavenging or on a hunt, all too eager to keep herself occupied somehow. 

despite her efforts to be otherwise, jordan is a known figure in the wyoming militia. she’s a gun aimed wherever yen wants her: she’s brutal, decisive. jordan doesn’t flinch and she doesn’t hesitate. when there’s a move to be made, she’s typically one of the ones at the front of it. frankly, she’s no stranger to extreme violence. she bites and she scratches and she’ll use whatever is in her reach to win a fight. she’s not trained by any official means, but she has heart and will go for your knees every single time. it’s dirty, desperate, and merciless. you won’t leave a fight with her without a mark.

jordan doesn’t know how to deal with people being genuinely kind to her. she thinks there has to be a catch somewhere, that everything is a transaction of some sort. she’ll get nervous, flustered even. like, ‘what are you doing? is this a joke? stop looking at me like that.’ and if she does something kind, she’d rather die than be recognized for it. being tender? being acknowledged as a human being capable of contributing something of worth? gross. ew. too revealing for her, thanks.

she has a lot of survival skills knowledge. knows how to make do with minimal supplies and resources, and i mean that in the bear grylls doing nasty shit just to make it through the night type of way. she’s also an excellent huntsman. she can sniff out tracks easily and leaves no nook or cranny untouched when scavenging. she’ll climb and crawl through questionable buildings if there’s a chance for loot inside. you might want to watch your belongings around her, too.

her living quarters are bare, and you can’t tell much about her just by looking through it. having moved from camp to camp for a majority of her life, coupled with an innate sense of instability has pretty much dissolved any real sense of ownership she feels over things. she does like little trinkets, though. typically small animal figurines. she thinks they’re charming.

she can be a great friend, if you manage to get close enough. she's brazen, a surprisingly good listener, and always more than willing to lighten the mood. she may not laugh at your jokes, but she'll have your back, even if it costs her own. as it turns out, jordan can be very generous sometimes: she’ll shower you in attention and walk in your shadow, chasing the light you emit. deep down, jordan has a strong desire to please, and shows her love through acts of service. she wants to be needed, and needs to be useful to those she loves.

had coffee once and she hated it. too needy of a drunk to feel comfortable drinking. avoids the fighting pits. freezes up when someone touches her. can and will steal your flannel shirts.

— 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 𝐈𝐓𝐒 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄.

first of all, when i say i’m genuinely down to do any and all plots i mean that. i don’t say no to anything lol and want to do all the things, whether it’s mega death angst or something that’s so sweet it’ll make my teeth hurt. gimme everything, pls n thanks!

i’ve purposely left some gaps in her history in order to leave room for anything we cook up. people she was once in a group with / traveled with way back when could be cool. little acts of fate are my favorite - imagine the reunions! whether they hated each other, were familiar, or were thick as thieves is all good with me. 

if anyone wants to pick up the ex she wanted to start a family with, then i’d be willing to discuss that! they could be from any faction [except for the purged, logistically]. doesn’t have to be the actual person that got her pregnant either. jordan checked out after everything that happened and ultimately left without any warning, goodbye, or anything. surely that’s gotta rouse some intense feelings, especially if they just so happen to come across her again.. as fate and its shit sense of humor would have it. 

jordan can have some friends.. as a treat. hehe. seriously, give her someone to shoot the shit with and to annoy the hell out of!

friends with benefits / one night stands could be interesting, especially since jordan doesn’t really let very many people that close to her. keep in mind though, she’s the type to fuck someone and then never speak of it again which is very well-adjusted of her. 

jordan gets bit pretty early on in game, and by that i mean literally in january of 2044, lol. so, having someone help her with her wound could be interesting. i was thinking it could be some quid pro quo type of deal where she asks them for supplies in exchange for whatever they want, but i’m down to discuss any differing ideas / alter it to fit our characters. jordan wouldn’t want them to know what the supplies was for, but the opportunity for them to find out anyhow could still arise because who doesn’t love some good ole drama? 

someone that does not vibe with her / she doesn’t vibe with could be cool, too! not everything is peachy keen, you know?

exes / almost exes are one of my weaknesses. getting so close to someone that you end up on the other side of them is so bittersweet. i need it. jordan is a difficult individual, so maybe this was a will-they-won’t-they type of situation that never went anywhere, or it was silent pining, or whatever else we think of is all good with me. can have been unrequited or not, too. could be a relationship neither of them can leave well enough alone, or one that makes it difficult for them to ever go back to being friends - maybe there’s too much bitterness to see past. i just wanna paint some angsty little trees, man. 

[eirlithad]

Calling on Song//Chapter Twelve

Rating: M (subject to change)

Relationship: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan

Summary: Kasde Rhiannon Trevelyan was promised to the Chantry. Fate found her at the Conclave. The Maker saw her through it. As the world falls down around her, she decides to take a stand. With a little determination, and a fair amount of snark, she just might make a difference.

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Chapter Twelve: Words

          It was nearly dusk when the Herald arrived in Haven a week later. Word of her return had traveled faster than her old, tired nag, and a sizeable crowd awaited her at the gates. Among those gathered stood Leliana and Josephine, pleased smiles etched across their faces. Cullen stood further off, attempting – and failing – not to glower.

          Kasde handed off the reins to an eager stableboy from Ansburg and stretched her tired muscles. It had been too long since she last rode, and never over any substantial distance. She was more than glad to be out of the saddle. After nearly two weeks of fighting bandits, crazed rebels, demons, and bears, she was looking forward to a bath and a warm bed. Her stomach growled loudly, and her mouth watered just thinking about food that wasn’t hardtack or rabbit.

          It was difficult to keep the exhaustion from her face, but she tried her best for the hopeful eyes watching. After all, they believed her the instrument of the Maker’s will. To them, she was infallible, unyielding, someone who could never be broken. How could it be otherwise? Prophets, Heralds, and heroes were never tired in the stories.

          They certainly never got saddle sores.

          Varric and Solas managed to skillfully dodge the crowd’s attention and escape, much to Kasde’s annoyance. She smiled and nodded; thanked the faithful for their blessings and prayers during her absence. The words spilled from her mouth, and after a time, she found herself repeating the same phrases without thinking. Face after face appeared, each seeking but a moment in the Herald’s presence. Fear began to knot in her gut. There seemed no end to them. If someone approached her, babe in arms, she would scream. She drew the line at blessing children.

          By the Maker’s grace, someone cleared their throat. Those still gathered took notice and, humbly, returned to whatever tasks the Herald’s return had pulled them from. Kasde heaved a sigh of relief.

          “Welcome back, Herald,” Leliana snickered, sensing her distress.

          Josephine elbowed her politely. “You did well, Your Grace. Had I not read your letters, I would think your journey to the Hinterlands uneventful.” Grimacing, she delicately plucked a sodden leaf from the Herald’s bun.

          Kasde waved her away, abandoning any prior grace she had displayed. “Bears, Josephine,” she whined. “Bloody, Maker-forsaken bears. Do you know how big they are in the Hinterlands?”

          The blank look on her ambassador’s face was answer enough.

          “Big. If I ever see another, it will be too soon.” She rolled her shoulders with a pained groan. “I take it Mother Giselle arrived ahead of me?” she asked.

          “Several days ago,” Leliana confirmed. “She has been a great help, especially with the wounded.”

          “And her…other help?”

          The spymaster’s mouth twitched the slightest bit, and she winked. “Don’t worry, Herald. I will put the names to good use.”

          Kasde nodded. “Good, good. Did I miss anything else?”

          Josephine sniffed dismissively. “A few visiting nobles, but none of any import.”

          Cullen grunted absently, eyes trained somewhere in the distance. Kasde canted her head to the side. Something was off about him. He was stiffer, more rigid than she remembered. His warm eyes were hard and cold, and she got the distinct feeling he was angry.

          “Herald?”

          She shook her head. A nap was definitely in order. “Sorry, Jospehine,” she sighed, “I swear I was trying to listen.”

          The Antivan let out a light chuckle. “It’s quite all right. I’m sure there was little time for rest while you were away; you must be exhausted.”

          Kasde opened her mouth to argue, but thought better of it. “A bit,” she admitted, laughing. “If there’s nothing life or death, I’d like to clean up.”

          “Of course. Again, welcome back, Herald.”

          She didn’t make it halfway up the steps before a firm hand gripped her arm. Startled, she moved to pull away, but her tired body was slow to respond. When she glanced up, Cullen’s grim face stared back at her.

          “A word?” His tone left little room for question.

          “Just one?” she teased. Truthfully, she hoped he kept things short. Bed was sounding very good. Kicking his shin and running was more than an idle thought.

          Growling, he dragged her the rest of the way up the steps, toward her cabin. Gone was the man she had left behind, who had troubled himself with her feelings. In his place stood the Templar, and Kasde felt every bit the misbehaving mage.

          As they neared the door, his grip on her arm tightened painfully, and she, far too tired for it, began to lose patience.

          “Okay, Cullen, you’re starting to hurt me,” she whispered, simultaneously warning and asking him to let go.

          His response was a dry snort, as though unimpressed.

          Fine. Squaring her shoulders, she snapped, “Take your hand off me, or I’ll remove it at the wrist.” There was every bit a promise in her voice.

          He eyed her sidelong, one brow arched, as though he wondered at the seriousness of her threat. She stared back, unflinching, as he pushed the cabin door open.

          “Your choice,” she said. “How much would you miss it?”

          With an annoyed snarl, he removed his hand from her arm, placing it instead on the hilt of his sword.

          Kasde crossed her arms. She did not consider herself an expert in his behavior, and her limited interaction with him left her grasping for an explanation. However, a sharp twinge in her gut told her something was very wrong. Cullen didn’t seem the sort to lash out in anger, much less deliberately hurt her. She could only guess at what had happened to trigger such an abrupt change.

          Sighing, she motioned him into the cabin and closed the door behind them. She moved to stand by the window, intentionally putting a fair amount of distance between them. His behavior made her nervous, and she was far too tired to trust her own temper.

          Cullen dragged a hand down his face. “I apologize, Herald. My actions were…untoward.”

          She waved his words away callously. “It’s forgotten,” she ground out. “You wanted to speak with me? Talk then.”

          His eyes were suddenly very hard, and he began to pace the length of the room. “I wanted to address the manner of your correspondence.”

          “Oh?”

          “If you think me unfit to carry out my duties—”

          Kasde’s eyes widened. “Whoa, that is not what I said.”

          “I thought we had an understanding, Herald,” Cullen snapped. “I expected           professionalism from you, of all people.”

          “Cullen, you blatantly complained about volunteers! We didn’t offer those people anything; they joined us willingly.”

          “I am aware of that, Herald.”

          “Then be grateful! We aren’t in any position to turn away help,” she argued, barging into his space. “I understand they aren’t battle-ready or on equal footing with your troops, but you’re their Commander. Adapt.”

          “That is hardly the issue.”

          “You act like I’m the only one who can’t afford to make mistakes!” Kasde shouted.

          “For someone who claims a strong dislike of politics, you act every bit the spoiled noble.”

          A loud crack filled the room. Cullen’s head snapped to the side, the skin of his cheek already reddening. Kasde stood before him, her arm frozen in the follow-though.

          “How dare you.” Her voice came as little more than a whisper, but the force behind it rang in his ears. “You know nothing.”

          Cullen did not respond, too ashamed to so much as lift his head.

          “You haven’t the slightest idea what my life was like.” She took a shaky breath, lowering the offending hand.

          “Herald, I—”

          “Don’t,” she barked. “I don’t know what bug crawled up your ass, but I can tell you I don’t really care. I risked life and limb for a week, for your cause. I didn’t choose to be here. I’m overwhelmed as it is; I don’t need your whining.”

          Cursing loudly, she turned away, carding her fingers through her hair. Is this what it will be like? she wondered. Sore in places she didn’t know could hurt, tired and hungry, she had kept her complaints to herself. Her position as Herald demanded as much. With the world coming apart at the seams, she needed others she could count on, or the façade would slip. Instead, more and more problems lumped themselves on her plate.

          “I’m sorry if my letter upset you,” she said at last. “I was just…frustrated.”

          Cullen snorted. “That’s understandable.” His voice was kinder, softer. “I apologize for…whining, I suppose. Sometimes, I get so wrapped up in my own struggles that I forget you aren’t having a fun go of this mess, either.”

          Kasde nodded considerately. “I need to trust that when I’m gone, things here will carry on as usual. I need you to carry on. Can I trust you to do that?” she asked.

          “Of course,” he replied, as though any other answer else seemed absurd. “With one request, if I may.”

          Kasde crossed her arms as she leaned her hip against the windowsill, but motioned for him to continue.

          “Don’t say gone,” he whispered, and there was an edge to his voice, almost like a prayer.

          Her features softened. “Oh, Cullen, that’s not what I meant.”

          “I’m aware what you meant, Herald,” he explained, “but the idea of… The thought of losing you…” He growled in aggravation. “What I mean is, the Inquisition cannot afford to lose you.”

          “Of course,” she agreed, throat tight. What was it about him that always managed to rattle her so?

          Cullen cleared his throat abruptly. “I should let you get some rest. I’m sure you’re exhausted, what with rifts, and rebels, and bandits.”

          “Don’t forget the bears.”

          He rewarded her with a gentle grin before turning for the door. “Sleep well, Herald.” He paused, chuckling at some joke only he knew. “Kasde.”

          She watched him disappear through the door, back into the snow, somehow emptier without his company. Despite their differences – or perhaps because of them – they shared a rare companionship. He made her want to do better. She resolved to succeed in his eyes. Whatever he saw in her, she would endeavor to be. She would put her duty to the Inquisition – to Thedas – above all else.

          Even what the heart wants.

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