#Just for his civilization or group hasn’t begun existing yet

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 244

Danny sighs in exhaustion, rubbing at his eyes with a too-long sleeve. He was honestly getting really tired of getting de-aged. It was annoying, and even if he did stuff differently there was still a lot of stuff the same. Not to mention that being partially alive (and unkillable) meant that it couldn’t be reversed, he just had to wait for his body to grow back up. Urgh. 

At least his babysitter- even if he doesn’t need one- is pretty nice, if a bit quiet. They’re not too busy, especially for being a reaper, and honestly it’s always nice to meet another of Clockwork’s kids. Which if someone had told him that CW had a habit of adopting anomalies to the timelines, he probably wouldn’t have believed them. 

But hey, he guesses Mr Speedforce-Death is his big brother anyway. And it’s not too boring, kind of nice to just chillax. Oh- the cowl-thing is going on and he’s getting an offer of a shoulder ride. Guess it’s someones time to die- hey, maybe he’ll be able to befriend their ghost! 

[thetravelerwrites]

Dr. Maël Halvorg (Fae)

Rating: Teen Relationship: Male Part-Fae/Female Part Fae Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Fae, Naga, Reader Insert, Anthropology, Genetics Content Warnings: Children, Pregnancy, Incubation, Infertility Words: 4723

A commission by @ivymemnoch​​! With Amai and Yenuno's children getting older, they need a teacher, and Amai calls a friend to help out. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

“Amai, it’s great to hear from you!” You said, sitting back and sipping a coffee. You were typing up reports at your desk when she called. “God, it’s been forever since we last spoke. How are Yenuno and the children?”

You were surprised to get a call from your old friend while you were working overseas. You and Amai had gone to college together, and while she was getting a law degree in civil rights, you were studying anthropology. You were both in fields specializing in non-humans, which is why you were studying together.

There was a college that offered specific studies in exology, or the study of non-human sentient life, Exanian University. It provided classes in medicine, law, sociology, politics, cultural exo-anthropology, and many other subjects that focused solely on non-humans.

It was established in the early 1890’s and originally only taught humans about the nine Established races. The Established were allowed to attend school in the 50’s, and during the Neogon rights movement in the 80’s, the campus and curriculum was expanded to included education on the newer races that had begun to emerge as well as open its doors to non-humans. In addition, they began to petition and encourage other colleges to offer exological studies. Many alumni of E.U. were now teaching exological studies at other colleges.

You were now a research professor for E.U., studying newly emerged races and reaching out to those shy about integrating. When you first started your career, Amai and the firm where she worked would often help draw up protection papers for the new races until they were formally recognized as a Neogon race and therefore protected under the Neogon act, which granted them the same rights as humans and the Established. Though, as time went on, new races were much rarer, and you hadn’t needed their services. The surprise call was the first time you’d spoken in months, and you hadn’t seen her face-to-face in eight years.

“They’re well, thank you!” She said. “Whereabouts are you these days?”

“Portugal,” You replied. “We’ve had reports that the Encante people may actually exist, and we’ve been attempting to locate and make contact with them. Unfortunately, because they’re underwater creatures, they’re ability to shapeshift, and their reputation as seducers in the mythology of the region, it hasn’t been an easy task. Although, several people in the local villages claim to have Encantado ancestry, so we’re running blood tests to determine the legitimacy of that claim. If they’re blood comes back with unidentified DNA, we can start the protected race process. I assume that’s why you’re calling? You must have heard the news from Song. I sent him an email about drawing up papers a few days ago.”

“He did tell me, yes, and that’s wonderful news,” She replied. “But that���s actually not why I’m calling.”

“Oh?” You’re head rocked back, surprised. “To what do I owe the pleasure, then?”

“Well,” She sighed heavily. “The older children are at the developmental stage enough now where they should begin school, and the younger ones could use some help with supplemental skills. But both Yenuno and Dr. Halvorg don’t think putting them in a normal school a good idea, so I’ve been outvoted. At the very least, they need a tutor. I’ve done what I can on my own, but I’m not a very good teacher. At least, not for fifteen children. Soon to be eighteen, actually.”

“You’re carrying a new clutch?” You said, excited. “That’s wonderful! Yenuno must be very happy.”

“He is, and so am I,” She said, sounding please but tired. “Although we think this might be the last one. My body isn’t recovering as quickly as it used to and Yenuno worries about my health.”

“Understandable. So why did you call me?”

“Well, Yenuno doesn’t know anything about the educational system, having grown up in the wild, and Dr. Halvorg wants to hire some stuffy colleague of his who will bore the kids into a drooling stupor. Halvorg won’t accept anything less than the best, which I mean… I guess it’s nice that he wants the kids to have nothing but the utmost quality, I just wish he wasn’t so damn rigid. He needs to get laid, honestly,” She huffed, and you stifled a laugh. “Do you have someone you could recommend?”

“To get him laid?”

She snorted. “No! You know what I mean. Do you think any of your colleagues at the university would be interested in educating the children of a rare, endangered race? That’s got to have appeal to you academic types, right?”

“Hmm,” You hummed, sitting back in your chair and contemplating. “I’m not sure. You know, it occurs to me that I’ve never even met your children. Or your husband, for that matter.” You sat up and looked at your calendar. “You know what? I’m due for a vacation. Why don’t I come back state-side and meet all of your little ones? I can get a better idea of who would be a good fit for them. I know several people in early education who could be great for tutoring a large group of children at different development levels.”

“Ah, you’re a lifesaver, thank you so much,” Amai said. “I’ll owe you one big time.”

“Just find me a man and we’ll call it even,” You said, laughing. “I’ll text you when my schedule frees up and we’ll make some plans.”

Two weeks later, you stepped off the plane of the airport in Coleville and rented a car. Willowridge was an out of the way town that had the E.U. campus where you and Amai had gone to school. It was a little bit of a drive from the city to get there, but Coleville had the closest airport.

You arrived at the research facility sometime around mid-afternoon, greeted out front by Amai and her youngest child, Yenu. Yenu was a 50/50 hybrid between naga and human, which was unheard of; all other hybrids were a 95/5 percent split since the males both created and fertilized the eggs. Females were simply incubators in the breeding process. Yenu was a curious mix between Amai and her father, from her stubby little legs to her long snake tail and the blue scales running down her neck and back. From an academic perspective, it’s no wonder this Dr. Halvorg was so keen on keeping her and her siblings in the facility for study.

On the other hand, she was adorable, and the entire world needed to know about it. You wondered how many specialists actually knew about her existence and why there wasn’t more published about her in scientific literature. You’re fairly sure there was only one article based on her, and it was authored by Dr. Halvorg. They were likely keeping her under strict protections until she was older, to spare her the media circus.

“It’s so good to see you!” You said as you scooped her into a hug. Her belly wasn’t big yet, but you could feel it’s hardness against your own belly. Yenu squealed happily in her arms as you squished the two of them.

“You, too!” She said, kissing your cheek. “How was the drive?”

“Scenic, as always,” You said, following her as she went inside. “I got the email from Dr. Halvorg last night about accommodations. You’re right: he’s a little abrupt, but in all honestly I’ve yet to meet a geneticist that isn’t.”

“Believe it or not, he’s way less uptight than he used to be. The children really help lighten him up.”

“He likes kids?” You said, your opinion of him rising slightly.

“Oh, very much,” She said, then her voice lowered to a sad whisper. “He can’t have any children, apparently. His kind are bad breeders, he says.”

“His kind?”

“He’s part fae,” She replied.

“Oh,” You said, frowning. “That’s odd.”

“What is?”

“Well, I’m part fae, too, and I have three brothers. And I know of several subraces of fae that are prolific breeders, several of which I helped integrate myself. Exogenetics is still an evolving science. Perhaps he has been so focused on his current work that he hasn’t checked recent literature in the field. He’s been working in conservation for several decades, didn’t you say? I’ll make some calls and see what I can find.”

“I forgot you were part fae,” She said thoughtfully. “What subrace are you, again?”

“Russian Bereginya,” You replied. “What is he?”

“I’ve never asked,” She said. “He very rarely talks about himself at all. Honestly, it seems like a sore subject with him, so I’ve never brought it up. Even Yenuno seems hesitant to ask, and he gets along better with Dr. Halvorg than I do. The only reason I know his first name is because I’ve seen it on official reports. Only the children are allowed to say it, even if it’s to call him ‘Uncle Maël’.”

“A hard nut to crack, huh?” You asked as she led you into the public lobby and fished out a personnel I.D. badge.

“You could say that,” She said. “He and I don’t always see eye to eye, at least.” She swiped her card in a card slot and pressed her thumb on the printpad. “I’ve got a temporary I.D. waiting for you in the back. It’ll be good for the next two weeks. Let me know if you decide to stay longer, and I’ll have the expiration extended.”

“Sure, thanks,” You said.

“You’re about to meet the man himself,” She said as she walked though an automatic sliding door. “Plus my man, and my children. You remember their names?”

You nodded. “It’ll take me a while to match names to faces, though. You always were an overachiever.”

She laughed.

The two of you walked into what looked like the receiving room of a warehouse, except it was empty. There was a large, rolling aluminum wall that was raised and led to a forested area outside. There was an enclosed greenhouse type thing that had several nests built, as well as a cottage at the far end.

Each little nest had a small body with blue scales and warm almond skin lying in it, curled up into a coil, eyes closed and breathing softly. The cottage at the far end also had a movable wall, which was up, and a large, blue naga with long, straight, black hair and pale skin was sitting there, typing on a laptop that was perched on a standing desk.

“Yenuno is a bit socially shy, so he connects with others through the internet,” Amai whispered. “It’s about as much social interaction with the outside world as he can tolerate sometimes.”

“It must be naptime,” You whispered back, nodding toward the kids.

She laughed softly. “The older ones only need to eat once a day now, depending on the size of their prey, and they get tired after hunting and feeding, so we schedule it for noon. They should be up soon, though.”

She waved her hand to get Yenuno’s attention. He looked up and smiled, closing the laptop. He slithered down the ramp, over to Amai to plant a kiss on her lips, and then took Yenu in his arms, tossing her up once to make her giggle before squishing her in a big hug and blowing a raspberry into her cheek. Amai shushed him.

“Let’s go to the lounge to talk,” Amai said quietly. “Yenuno, this is my friend I told you about, the professor from E.U.”

“It’s nice to meet you finally,” Yenuno said as the three--no, four--of you went to a sitting area nearby. Half of the room had chairs and a couch, while the other side had cushions with a table in between. “Amai has told me many stories about you.”

“Most of them are true,” You said, sitting. “But I won’t say which.”

He laughed and set Yenu on the floor in front of him, watching her carefully as she scooted her way across the carpet. “Dr. Halvorg will be around soon. He usually talks to the children after their naps about their hunting experiences.”

“Jeez, I thought I was a workaholic,” You said. “Does he ever relax?”

“Not that I’ve ever seen,” Amai said, handing you a cup of coffee from the bar behind the couch. “If he’s awake, he’s in research mode. He even works through meals.”

“Well, I’ll hope he’ll make some time so I can discuss the children’s developments with him.”

“Oh, if it’s for the kids, he’ll make time,” Yenuno replied. “He’s practically adopted them.”

“I swear, if he thought he could get away with it, he’d forge our signatures on adoption papers,” Amai said sardonically.

“Speak of the devil,” Yenuno said, jerking his head at the open loading space near the greenhouse. A man stood there, surveying the sleeping children for a moment before heading over to the lounge area. He was thin and tall with long, white-blonde hair in a sleek braid down his back. He was pale complected and had a sharp, angular face with bushy eyebrows and vivid, amber colored eyes. His ears had a definitive point to them.

Yep, definitely Celtic fae heritage; you could spot it a mile away. It’s true that the Celtic fae populace had dwindled over the years, though you hadn’t really considered why. You chalked it up to interbreeding with other races or being edged out of their territory. Historically, since fae were immortal, or at least very long lived, they often didn’t feel the biological incentive that mortal creatures felt to procreate. Could their long-held disinterest in breeding have eventually rendered them infertile? That was a startling thought.

“Is this the professor I’ve heard so much about?” Dr. Halvorg asked as he approached. Yenu toddled her way over to him on her short little legs and he picked her up, popping her onto his hip like a pro.

“Yes,” Amai said and introduced you. Dr. Halvorg used his free hand to shake yours.

“Lovely to meet you,” He said. “I look forward to working with you. You have an impressive reputation. I’ve actually been following your progress for quite a while.”

“Really?” You asked, surprised.

“Oh, yes,” He replied, shifting a squealing Yenu to the opposite hip. “You’re the foremost anthropologist in the field currently. You and your team are responsible for integrating over thirty percent of known Neogon races in the last ten years. As a geneticist, as a scientist, seeing the steady expansion and confirmation of known non-human races happen in my lifetime is pretty incredible to watch.”

“Wow,” You said, stunned. “I didn’t realize I had such a reputation.”

“Well, you’ve been in the field for a long time,” He said with a smile. “It’s not surprising that you might not be aware of the impact your work has had on the world.”

You may have blushed, but you’d never have admitted it. Thankfully you were spared from finding a way to follow up that statement by a range of sleepy groans issuing from the enclosure. One by one, the children began to stretch and yawn and make their way over to their parents, the first of which was one of the youngest.

“Mommy!” He said, his curly hair bouncing as he slithered over the lip of the carpeted lounge area. “Who’s that?” He pointed directly at me.

“Osan, it’s not polite to point!” She said sharply. “This is my friend who I told you was coming to meet all of you. Wait for your brothers and sisters to get over here before we start introductions, okay?”

Osan shot across the enclosure to rudely awaken the rest of his siblings. His excited hollering echoed throughout the empty enclosure.

“Ah, youth. I’d love to siphon some of that energy and drink it like an espresso,” Amai said.

“Girl, I hear that,” You replied, chuckling.

A small army of nearly identical naga children came following Osan, curious about you, chattering and craning their necks to get a better look at you.

“Kids, line up, line up,” Yenuno said, wading out into the sea of small clones of himself. “These are the five year olds: Keenai, Tani, Fuma, and Amaia. The four year olds: Nenish, Tahara, and Sadji. The three year olds: Jinsa, Ishni, Chidil, Itheti, and Dashu. The two year olds: Osan and Khuzho. And little Yenu is eight months old.”

“I don’t know how you tell them all apart,” You laughed.

“I have a mole!” Sadji said, pointing at it. “See!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” You said, bending down to pat his head. He shook off your hand but laughed. You tickled his chubby cheek and he giggled, trying to fend you off.

“So what would you like to do?” Amai said. “I assume you already have a plan.”

“Yes,” You said. “I’d like to interview each child with a behavioral therapist and get a sense of their development levels myself, and then Dr. Halvorg and I will compare notes. I can make my determination then.”

“Sounds good,” Amai replied. “But it doesn’t have to be today, does it? You just got into town. I’d love to take you out for an early dinner, if you haven’t eaten. Yenuno hunted with the kids, so he likely won’t eat again until morning.”

“Sure, I’d love to,” You said. “Dr. Halvorg, do you have dinner plans?”

“Oh, no, I have a lot of work to do,” He said. “Besides, I’m sure the two of you will want to catch up. Please, enjoy yourselves. If you all would excuse me, I have a report to write.” He kissed Yenu on the cheek before handing her back to Amai and tousled a few of the kids’ hair as he passed. “Come along, children. Let’s do our interviews and I’ll take you all out to the playground.”

The kids cheered and followed him down the hall to the offices.

“You weren’t lying, Amai, he is really good with kids,” You said.

“Between him and the volunteers, we never have to hire a babysitter, which is nice,” Yenuno replied.

“Some days, it’s his only redeeming feature,” Amai said with a sour smile. “I still haven’t quite forgiven him for what happened when I was pregnant with Yenu. If I sit too long, thinking about it, I get mad all over again.”

“Think of the eggs, my love,” Yenuno said patiently, patting her belly. “He’s apologized many times since then. You can’t hold a grudge forever.”

“I absolutely can,” She said churlishly. “I understand his job is conserving and repopulating your species, but our marriage is an entirely separate thing and he can keep his nose out of it.”

“Well, let’s get a cheesecake and forget all about it,” You suggested.

“Sound good to me,” She said. She kissed Yenuno on the lips and waved goodbye to him. “There’s a new Italian place that’s got really good reviews.”

“No seafood! Or wine!” Yenuno called after her.

“This ain’t my first rodeo!” She called back.

The Italian place was as good as Amai said it was, and the two of you went to Tumble’s Cafe for dessert and coffee. Tumble had actually been a client of Amai’s when a hate crime had been committed against him. Now his wife and kids had two shops open in town and were doing very well for themselves.

Lucy, Tumble’s wife, was a few years your junior and a mother of three. Amai and Lucy had become close friends over the years and they were both in an interspecies mommy group. You knew of her, since you’d both grown up in the same small town, but you hadn’t actually met her before. Amai told you that the triplets often played with her children at the park, and you had to stop for a moment and contemplate the strange image of bunnies and snakes playing together.

“Is this the professor?” Lucy asked as you came in with Amai.

“Did you tell the whole town I was coming?” You asked Amai.

“I didn’t need to,” Amai replied with a laugh. “Word gets around.”

“What can I get you guys?” Lucy asked, a big smile on her freckled face.

“Coffee and cheesecake to go, please,” You said.

“Oh, no coffee for me,” Amai interjected. “Can I have a decaf iced cinnamon chai instead?”  

“You got it. Whipped cream on top?”

“Yes, please. Where’s Tumble?”

“Putting the kids to bed upstairs,” Lucy said. “Such a good daddy. We’re talking about having more.”

“More than three?” You asked as she handed you a steaming cup of coffee. “I can’t imagine having more than two, at the most.”

“I guess it comes with having a non-human partner who’s used to the idea of having many children,” Lucy said, nodding at Amai, who tilted her head in agreement. “Not all non-humans have litters or clutches, but the ones who do always want more kids. At least the girls are in school now andTumble gave me a good five years before asking for another litter, unlike supermom over here. How’s that going on your end, by the way?”

“That’s why the professor is here,” Amai said, bumping you slightly with her shoulder. “She just got in today. The evaluations start tomorrow.”

“Well, good luck.” She handed you a box that contained two generous slices of cheesecake.

“Thanks, Lucy,” Amai said as the two of you left. “I’m sure I’ll be back in here soon. Tumble’s pastries are the best in town.”

“I’ll tell him you said that!” Lucy said with a laugh, waving.

The next morning, you began setting up for the individual assessments when Dr. Halvorg entered the room.

“Good morning,” You said. “Are you observing with the behavioral specialist?”

“I am the behavioral specialist,” He said. “I have a PhDs in child psychology and clinical psychology.”

“How many degrees do you have?” You asked, impressed.

“A few,” He admitted. “I’ve been alive for quite a long time, so I go back every once in a while to get another, or for a refresher. The education for each degree is much different now than it was fifty years ago.”

“How old are you?” You asked. “I know you’re part fae.”

“Amai told you that, eh?”

“Maybe,” You replied. “I mean, I’m part fae, too, so it’s not like I’m bothered by it.”

“You are?” He asked, looking at you keenly. “That wasn’t in your dossier. European?”

“Russian, and it’s not really a secret. I’m surprised you didn’t already know; I figured Amai would have said something. I was actually thinking you and I should have a conversation about that.”

He looked at you with an indecipherable expression and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, one of the eldest children came in the door.

“Later,” He said. You nodded.

The evaluations were interesting. The children were advanced for their ages, though Dr. Halvorg told you that was normal among nagas, who had to mature quickly in the wild. Watching them problem solve during the assessment was actually fascinating. They grasped new concepts relatively quickly and were wildly curious. They actually seemed happy to learn new and unusual things and kept asking you about your work with new races. You imagined they got a lot of that exuberance from Amai. Yenuno seemed a great deal more anxious and withdrawn.

The assessments took the entire day, and Dr. Halvorg asked you back to his office to compare notes when they were done.

“I think Ishni is slightly behind the others in his age group, or rather his brothers are more advanced. Honestly, it’s hard to tell with nagas. Their development is so unusual.”

“I would agree,” Dr. Halvorg said. “With Ishni being behind, that is. But it’s nothing some focused work won’t fix. The rest of them are advancing well, based on the available statistics for their age groups.”

“Yes, it’s shocking how quickly they pick up new things. I wouldn’t be surprised if they completed a full curriculum in just a few years.”

“Based on today’s evaluations, do you have a candidate in mind who would work for them?” He asked.

You sighed heavily. “I do,” You said. “I actually know of several that would be good fits. Unfortunately, all of those people are currently under contract.”

“Oh,” Dr. Halvorg said. “I thought you said you knew someone who would be perfect for this job.”

“I said early development!” You replied. “But these children don’t need early development. That’s shapes and colors and numbers and things like that. All of these kids can already read. Even the two year olds! They need more advanced tutelage, and I didn’t realize that when Amai first asked.”

“So what would you recommend?”

You sat back in your chair. “Give me a few days to think it over and make some calls and I’ll get back to you. In the meantime, just go about things as normal. I��d like to observe how things run here naturally.”

“Is that in reference to the search for an educator?”

“No, it’s for my own personal observations,” You said, smiling. “I am still an exo-anthropologist, after all, and quite honestly, the last couple of days have been riveting.”

He grinned. “A woman after my own heart.”

Two nights later, you walked into the enclosure after dinner to a strange sight: Dr. Halvorg reading the kids a bedtime story. He was sitting on the ground in the circle of nests and reading from a big book of non-human fairy tales. Race appropriate ones, of course. It was so unusual that all you could do was lean against the doorframe and listen.

When he finished, he helped settle all of the children and wished them a good night, and set the lights to starlight, with little pinpricks of light shining through the ceiling. When he saw you, he walked over.

“So, no good,” You said. “There aren’t any teachers who can come in on short notice.”

He sighed unhappily. “Well, what now?”

“I’ve decided that until they make contact with the Encante people, I’m not needed, so I might as well make the most of my time here and be the kids’ tutor until I need to go back or a teacher is made available.”

“Really?” Dr. Halvorg said, surprised. “Well, the kids like you, and you’re certainly well-educated. Have you ever taught before?”

“Briefly at E.U.,” You replied. “I taught one year of anthropology. It was nice staying in one place for a while, and the students seemed receptive to me. I only left because I was needed for a first contact situation.” You looked around. “Where’s Yenuno and Amai?”

“Date night,” He said. “They’re off… doing whatever people do on dates these days. I haven’t dated in decades, so I’m not certain what that entails anymore.”

“I could fix that, if you like,” You offered.

He smiled, but tilted his head. “How do you mean?”

“You could go on a date with me,” You said. “Since I’m going to be staying a while and working with you, it’ll be nice to get to know you better. And… maybe more than that.”

He looked like you’d hit him with a brick. He was still smiling confusedly, but his mouth was open and he couldn’t seem to speak.

“You okay there?” You asked.

“Ye--yes,” He stammered. “Forgive me. I… I appreciate the offer, but… I... I, uh…”

“It’s okay to say no, Maël,” You replied, laughing a little. “You don’t have to find an excuse. ‘No’ is a valid answer.”

He laughed a little self-consciously. “I’m sorry. I’ve been married to my work for so long that I just haven’t considered the possibility of dating. It’s… not something I’m interested in. I hope you understand.”

“Of course,” You replied. “That’s completely fine. And if you change your mind, that’s fine too. You know how to get in touch with me. No pressure. We’re both adults, after all.”

“Yes,” He said, adjusting his glasses. “I appreciate that. Thank you for the offer.”

“Think nothing of it,” You said. “I should get back to work. See you tomorrow.”

“Yes,” He repeated. You waved and walked away, unaware of his curious, piercing gaze on your retreating back.

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[brymione-nettle]

Character Profile: Brymione Nettle

Name: Brymione Nettle (Brim-eye-oh-knee)

Aliases: “Brie”, Miss Netty, Madam Wren

Profession: An official notary who moonlights as a tattoo artist; also a struggling novelist. 

Appearance: In human form, she’s a bird of a woman, coming to just over five feet—five feet and a half with the right pair of boots—with a slim, banana shaped build. She is tan, especially so about the neck, face, hands, and the tops of her feet; peppered with freckles. The palms of her hands are almost as rough in human form as they become as a worgen—nails kept short that while otherwise healthy, are perpetually caked with dirt. Her eyes are hazel green with flecks of dark gold. Her lips are rosy, but thin unless she paints them, and seem naturally wrinkled with a soft frown unless she thinks to smile. Her hair is a curly walnut mess that either hangs along her shoulders or is piled up atop her head while she works. She wears clothing that buttons high up on her neck. But in the crutch of shoulder where she was bitten, she has had a tattoo penned over the scar of the bite--made to appear as though little wildflowers flowers are blooming from the old wound.

In worgen form, she is quite a bit something else—taller, faster, stronger, of course—with slate, cowlicked fur and eyes of piercing gold.

Personality: Brymione is highly independent, organized, and no-nonsense. Naturally distrusting of most, but anyone attempting to be kind, she always suspects an ulterior motive. A serious and somewhat cynical creature, she often comes off as condescending and out of touch with her own humanity. And yet many of her actions, while executed with cool logic and an air of begrudging, belie a deep concern for others over herself that is not easy for her to express in a way that would be better understood.

Childhood: Brymione was the youngest child of a wealthy Gilnean merchant and a young woman he was not married to. For Eleanor Nettle, this was hardly the first grand mistake she had suffered of her high-functioning alcoholic of a husband Maurice, but it was certainly the grandest nonetheless. Regardless, Elle took pity on the babe left at their doorstep and raised and loved his daughter as her own.

She was a bold and fearless child, always running off into the woods when she should have been doing—well, anything else. If she was not digging in the dirt, she was atop the tallest trees trying to journey to the moon. One day, a fierce storm rolled in while Brymione was out playing. Elle went looking for her and in a freak accident, a decrepit tree branch fell and struck her dead. Her death took a hard toll on the Nettle family, but especially on Maurice, who had depended upon Eleanor for everything. When his business suffered and his debts ran high, her half sisters went to live with his mother in law—but not him and certainly not Brymione, whom the noblewoman refused to acknowledge as a legitimate member of the family. She remained with her father when he sold their family home and much of their belongings to settle his debts, and they moved northward, into a smaller shack on the outskirts of a hamlet in the Northgate Woods.

Maurice loved his daughter, but in his mind, she symbolized all his faults and mistakes turned manifest, and was a constant reminder of Eleanor’s death. To numb the guilt and resentment in his heart, he drank away what money he managed to make and fell into deep despondence. It fell to Brymione to provide. She made herself a helpful nuisance to the locals, doing a bit of everything from milking cows to fixing fences—as well as assisting an old hermit named Cheryn tend her garden when her eyes had begun to fail her.

Cheryn was a harvest-witch, and while she carefully kept this from Brymione’s notice in the beginning, she weighed child’s worth as a pupil. When it was clear the girl would make a suitable successor of her knowledge, and that her time was dwindling, the harvest-witch revealed the truth. In the years that followed, Brymione spent all of her time with Cheryn, learning to hear and tend to the heartbeat of nature, and to even write living magic upon a page with careful instruction.

But even as level-headed as she was, she had unrealistic ideas of what could be done with her newfound strengths. Brie began trying to work her magic on her father, penning soothing glyphs beneath the flower pots she placed strategically at his sill and by his bed—hoping to cleanse his “corruption” and bring him clarity from the unending grief that kept him from being the father she remembered. Not only did it not truly work (as Cheryn warned her), but when Maurice discovered what she was doing, he became violently angry and frightened. Things were done and said that could not be undone or unsaid, and he returned to the city without her. Brymione lived with Cheryn from that point on, in her home in the thickest point of the wood, on a knoll that the locals called Wren Hill because the birds that loitered there.

Recent History: When Cheryn died of old age, the locals who had once gone to her for aid now sought out Brymione instead, the new Madam Wren. Having lived much of her formative years in the shadow of the Wall, her heart was with the Rebels and more so, with their people abandoned beyond the colossal impasse, left as fodder for the Scourge and wolfmen by a selfish King. She ignored the increasing correspondence from her loyalist father demanding she return to his side and the safety of Gilneas City. Instead, she remained in Northgate Woods to provide succor to those rebels she could reach, and sanctuary to those rebels who could reach her. She became familiar with the shotgun, entangling wards, and some of Old Cheryn’s more…’offensive’ remedies to ‘discourage’ loyalist soldiers and civil war ‘opportunists’ from harassing her or her patients. When the rebellion failed, and those who were not brought to court fled into hiding, her name came up and she was brought to trial. But because it could not be proved that she did anything more than provide medical aid to wounded rebels and there were far bigger fish to catch, she was released. (After all, you can’t prove much without a body.)

But the divided nation’s troubles and her own were just beginning. The worgen curse infiltrated the walled in nation, and what seemed at first like terrible accidents led to truths much more sinister. People came to her with wounds and stories of fearsome wolfmen—and then never returned. The nighttime howls became ever louder, ever closer. Then one day she went to the hamlet—and it was abandoned, all except for the dead.

“Run,” a man told her as the life fled from his eyes and onto the ground through his wound, too quick for bandage or magic to mend. “But don’t go to the city. They are damned—we are all damned.”

Her haven became a lonely prison. By day, she watched the feral worgen prowl past her home in packs from the loft of her boarded-up shack with her gun in her lap, waiting for the right moment to sneak out and collect the wrens and rare vermin that lay across her yard from drugged seed to cook and eat. She purified rainwater collected in her gutters with cleansing magic. By night, she dwelled in the cellar, busying herself in her journals by cautious candlelight to the sound of distant howling and screams beyond her door and boarded windows—taking detailed accounts of what she saw and heard, and studying the more complex spells and rites left behind by her mentor, though much of them seemed indecipherable without Old Cheryn’s guidance.

Then one day, she heard a sentient beating on the door, and a familiar voice yelling for entrance.  And that was the day she was bitten.

When her mind returned to her much later, she was in Tal’doren. There was still wildness in her blood, and fleeting memories of nights with cold dirt in her nails and moon in her eyes. 

But there was balance now—and most importantly, control, which she resolved to never lose again.

Not to anything. Not to anyone.

Usually Found: In Old Town, where she holds a position as an official notary.  After hours, some may know that other ink-related services are available. Alternatively, she can be found at quiet taverns, nursing wine and trying to write the Novel.

Strengths, Talents, and Points of Pride: Brymione is a survivalist, and keeps a rational head when most people lose theirs. She is a talented writer and scribe, and while she hasn’t penned any novels under her own name (yet), she has helped pen some beautiful tomes of others fledgling authors’ works and designing tarot cards for coin. Her knack for trivia is useful, and she isn’t afraid of dirty work. Her actions are often driven towards her concern for the welfare of others, and to revealing the heart of any given matter.

Weaknesses: Her inability to easily trust others or to relinquish control to someone else makes it difficult for her to work well in groups, and to have meaningful friendships. She is always ready for the other boot to drop, and her rationale can come off as cold and condescending. Her anxiety that she may cause undue harm with either her magic or her existence as a worgen can send her into death loops of inaction as she overthinks herself into a corner. Inaction also has its consequences. 

Unless she is in worgen form, she is not very strong at all, she no longer has access to most of her druidic abilities. But she is starkly adverse to that side of her, and retains her human appearance in towns and populated spaces unless necessary.