#Lord of Eroded Fire

[fogaminghub]

🎉🌌 Travelers Unite! The new year kicks off with Genshin Impact Version 5.3 - Incandescent Ode of Resurrection! Team up with Mavuika and Citlali to tackle the Abyss and celebrate the Lantern Rite with amazing events and new characters! ✨ Are you ready for the journey ahead? Share your thoughts about the latest update!

[genshinimpactresources]

Genshin Impact | Version 5.3 “Incandescent Ode of Resurrection” Key Visuals

Cleaned and upscaled by asddzr on bilibili

Download Link (Google Drive)

[dragaliareferencearchive]

Incandescent Ode of Resurrection - Genshin Impact

[endlessskymaster]

New Bosses introduced in 5.3 via 5.3's special program:

Lord of Eroded Primal Fire

Wayward Hermetic Spiritspeaker

[tirsden]

"Are you done cutting up the platform, sir? I need that achievement."

[kitsunabi]

The mental record scratch while I'm experiencing the Natlan Act V quest with all the grand symphony and epic cutscene fight (hyv did good ngl)

which transitions to the epic We Get Pyro Element as it dings all 6 constellations where i'm just like "YEAAAAA!!!!"

".....Now hol' up i gotta read the description on the abilities"

[idkyetxoxo]

Gwayne Hightower - Hate to Love

Summary - A defiant Lannister noblewoman clashes with her stoic guard, Gwayne. Their battle of wills ignites an undeniable attraction, leading to a passionate collision that shatters their defences and reveals that the true danger lies in the fire they spark within each other.

Pairing - Gwayne Hightower x Lannister reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!)

Word count - 2233

Masterlist for Gwayne • House of the Dragon General Masterlist

The first time I met Gwayne Hightower, he stood at the entrance of my father's estate, his posture straight as a spear, hands clasped behind his back. 

He was a figure of stoic authority, clad in dark leather armour that seemed to absorb the light, rendering him a shadow amidst the colours of the world around him. 

I was a noblewoman of House Lannister, dressed in silk and jewels that sparkled like stars. 

My first impression of him was one of disdain like a cloud shadowing the sun.

"Lady Lannister," he greeted, his voice a low rumble, the weight of my name hanging heavily in the air. I turned my head away, my nose in the air, as if the mere act of acknowledging him would somehow tarnish the glittering world I inhabited.

What could a mere guard know of the lives we led? I was accustomed to the admiration of lords and ladies, not the scornful glances of someone who considered themselves above it all.

As the days turned into weeks, Gwayne became an unwelcome fixture in my life. He was always there, lurking at the edges of my existence, his steely gaze watching my every move with a sort of unwavering vigilance that unnerved me. 

He seemed to find great pleasure in making me feel like a delicate flower in a storm, meant to be protected from the rain when all I wanted was to dance in it.

I would try to engage him in conversation, only to be met with clipped responses and a dismissive tone. The man was infuriatingly steadfast, a wall that I could not breach. 

"You're too strict, Ser Gwayne," I once told him, my voice playful, as I fluffed the skirts of my gown. "Life is meant to be enjoyed, not endured. Surely, you have a sense of humour somewhere beneath all that armour."

His expression barely shifted, though I caught the briefest flicker of irritation in his eyes. "Humor won't protect you, my lady. This world is filled with dangers you cannot even begin to fathom."

"Oh, but I can fathom plenty," I replied, a smirk dancing on my lips. "Such as the danger of boredom. And I fear you are a prime suspect in that regard."

He merely shrugged a nonchalant motion that only fueled my frustration. The more he brooded, the more I felt compelled to provoke him. 

I would parade around the estate in my finest gowns, flaunting my beauty as though it were a weapon, daring him to break his stoic façade.

But each time I looked to him for a reaction, he would simply stare ahead, as if I were an unremarkable piece of furniture. I took it as a challenge. 

If he was going to act like a rock, then I would be the flowing water that eroded him.

One evening, as I prepared for a feast at our ancestral castle, I stood before my mirror, adjusting the emerald necklace that hung against my collarbone like a silken chain. 

My reflection smiled back, confident and radiant, and I imagined all the eyes that would linger on me. 

Gwayne stood at the entrance, arms crossed, watching with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.

"Must you stare?" I snapped, irritation bubbling beneath my carefully crafted composure. "You're making me feel like a prize to be won."

He straightened, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly as if he fought the urge to smile. "It is my duty to watch over you, my lady. You should be grateful for it."

"Grateful?" I laughed, incredulous. "For a man who cannot even allow me the freedom to enjoy my own life? You see me as some fragile thing that must be protected at all costs. You fail to realize that I am not a child."

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words died on his lips when my father entered, bearing the weight of House Lannister's crest. I could almost feel Gwayne's body stiffen at the sight of him.

"Ready for the feast, my dear?" my father asked, beaming with pride.

"Quite," I replied, casting one last glance at Gwayne. His expression was unreadable, and I wondered for a fleeting moment what it would take to break through his impenetrable exterior.

The feast was everything I had dreamed it would be. The halls of Casterly Rock were alive with laughter and music, the scent of spiced wine mingling with the perfume of blooming roses. 

I glided through the crowd, head held high, revelling in the attention. I danced with lords and ladies, exchanging flirtatious glances, my laughter ringing like chimes in the air.

But Gwayne remained a shadow in the background, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that sent a thrill through my heart and a twinge of annoyance through my mind. 

It was infuriating to think that he believed I needed guarding against the likes of these men, yet I couldn't help but feel a pull towards him as if the very air around us crackled with unacknowledged tension.

As I spun across the dance floor, I caught the eye of a handsome stranger, his confidence palpable as he approached. 

"Lady Lannister," he said, bowing slightly, his voice smooth as honey. "May I have this dance?"

I accepted eagerly, keen to escape Gwayne's watchful gaze. The music swelled, and we twirled together, my laughter mingling with the notes. 

The stranger leaned closer, whispering sweet nothings that made my heart race and my cheeks flush.

"Your beauty is a rare treasure," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "I could lose myself in those eyes."

Through the crowd, I caught a glimpse of Gwayne, his expression dark and stormy, lips pressed into a thin line. 

I felt a thrill at the sight of him, something unnamable stirring within me, but I pushed the thought away, focusing instead on the man before me, who made me feel desirable and free.

But Gwayne's presence lingered like a shadow, always in the periphery, and as I spun and laughed, I could feel the tension in the air shift.

When the night finally drew to a close, I returned to my chambers, exhilarated yet exhausted. 

As I opened the door, I was met with Gwayne's imposing figure, arms crossed and his brow furrowed, an undeniable tension radiating from him.

"You were leading him on," he accused, his voice low and tense, a mixture of anger and something I could not quite place.

I felt a rush of indignation wash over me. "I was enjoying myself! Is that a crime? Or are you simply jealous that someone else finds me charming?"

"Charming?" He scoffed, stepping closer, his tone filled with disbelief. "You think this is charming? You are playing a dangerous game, my lady."

"Dangerous?" I laughed bitterly, crossing my arms defiantly. "What do you know of danger? You hide behind your armour and your rules. You do not understand what it means to truly live."

"Perhaps you should be careful what you wish for," he snapped back, his voice rising.

The air crackled with tension, and I stepped closer, our faces mere inches apart. "And perhaps you should learn to let go of your rigid ideals. Not everything is a threat, Gwayne. Not everyone is out to get me."

"Tell that to the men who would use you as a pawn," he growled, anger flaring in his eyes. "You think you're safe because you're a Lannister, but you're just as vulnerable as anyone else."

My heart raced a mix of anger and something deeper I could not quite name. "I will not be caged by you or anyone else. I refuse to live in fear."

For a moment, we stood there, the air thick with unspoken words. 

And then, without warning, Gwayne surged forward, grasping my arms and pulling me against him. The kiss was fierce and unexpected, igniting a fire that burned away all the barriers we had built between us. 

I responded instinctively, my hands finding their way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the world around us faded.

When we finally broke apart, both of us gasping for breath, I could see the surprise in his eyes, a mixture of confusion and desire.

"What was that?" I breathed, my heart racing in a way I had never experienced before.

His brow furrowed, and for a moment, uncertainty flashed across his face. "I... I don't know. I didn't mean to—"

"Of course, you didn't," I interrupted, my voice steadier than I felt. "You're just a man of duty, after all."

He stepped back, a whirlwind of emotions coursing through him. "You don't understand. This is... complicated."

"Complicated?" I echoed, my pulse still thrumming in my ears. "I thought you were the one who understood the danger I faced. But it seems you're just as lost as I am."

"I care about your safety," he replied, the anger in his voice dissipating into something softer, more vulnerable. "But I can't help but feel something more. And it terrifies me."

I paused, searching his eyes for the truth behind his words. "Why does it terrify you?"

"Because I'm supposed to protect you, not fall for you," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

I stepped forward, closing the distance between us again. "And yet here we are. You have to choose, Gwayne. Will you keep hiding behind your armour, or will you let me in?"

He hesitated, the conflict in his eyes evident, but something shifted in his gaze. "I want to let you in," he confessed, the weight of his admission hanging in the air.

"Then do it," I urged, my heart pounding as I reached for him again, this time with a gentler touch. "Show me the man behind the guard."

As his hands enveloped mine, I felt a sense of warmth spreading through me, igniting something that had long been dormant. I knew that this was just the beginning. 

Our worlds were colliding, and I could no longer deny the attraction that had simmered beneath our battles of wills.

In the dim light of my chambers, the shadows danced around us, whispering promises of what could be. My breath quickened as I leaned in, the air thick with tension and desire. 

Gwayne met me halfway, and our lips brushed together again, this time softer, more tentative.

But it was not the softness of surrender; it was the beginning of something raw and wild. 

I pulled him closer, and as his hands slid to my waist, I felt the world around us fade away, leaving only the two of us entwined in this moment of vulnerability and yearning.

The realization was jarring—this man, who seemed so inhuman in his detachment, was as affected as I was. For once, he was just Gwayne, not the unyielding guard, but a man, flawed and vulnerable.

And gods help me, I liked him that way.

We stumbled backwards, tangled in each other, as though the space between us wasn't meant to exist. 

My room spun around us, a blur of shadows and flickering candlelight as we crashed onto the bed in a clumsy heap, laughter and breathless sighs punctuating the silence. 

Clothes fell to the floor in haphazard piles, each piece shed like layers of guarded tension as his lips met mine again and again, each kiss searing into me as if he'd been holding back far too long.

Somehow, he ended up above me, straddling my waist, his hands trailing slowly down my legs, every touch more reverent than the last. 

For someone I thought I despised just yesterday, he had an unexpectedly gentle touch, fingers tracing lines across my skin like he was afraid to miss any part of me. 

And yet, the tenderness was mixed with a hunger that left me breathless. 

I could feel the ache of his restraint, the careful control he held, until finally, our bodies met in a way that bridged the last of our barriers. 

This wasn't just physical; it felt as though his very presence was wrapping around my soul, every movement, every shared breath weaving us closer.

"Gods... please don't stop," I whispered, voice catching on a desperate edge, as my fingers tightened in the silken sheets beneath us. 

His rhythm was slow but relentless, a steady burn that built with every beat.

"I don't plan on it," he replied, voice rough and low, before his pace quickened just slightly, enough to stoke the fire building between us. 

My hands slipped from the sheets, sliding upward to tangle in the wild mess of auburn strands I'd sworn I'd set ablaze just a week ago in a rage. 

His mouth, parted in a gasp as I tugged, it had once been the source of insults, of bickering and sharp words—now, it poured out groans and soft curses, his expression transformed by something raw, something beautifully vulnerable.

The sound he made, half whine, half moan, as I tugged his hair once more, was enough to set me alight. 

His restraint cracked, and the way he moved shifted, growing more insistent, more fevered as if he were as desperate for this as I was. 

The air around us grew thick, filled with soft, breathless pleas and whispered names, sounds that held every ounce of feeling we'd tried to deny.

And somewhere in that haze of heat and whispered confessions, the last remnants of animosity dissolved, replaced by something achingly real, something I knew neither of us could turn back from.

For we were in too deep.

A/n - Worked four 13s in a row and now I feel like I need to be sedated

Gwayne tag list - @deniixlovezelda @randomnerdyfan @callsign-blue

[ghostlysoaps]

Johnny works as a yeoman in a nobleman's household. It’s a nice enough life. Quite a bit of work keeping the place tidy, dinner on the table and his master’s affairs in order all on his own but he receives a fair wage, a full belly and a warm place to sleep in exchange. His charge is kind and his penchant for tidiness, in all places but his office-turned-workstation, makes life significantly easier for him.

Until a letter arrives one day, written in an unsteady hand and ripe with errors, the scent of floral perfume clinging to the parchment. His mother doesn’t have long for this world and the allowance he receives from his Lord, which he always leaves her, has paid for the medication she'd needed to slow her deterioration. Unfortunately, time has eroded its effectiveness. The least he can do is be there during her final days as is her last wish. He realises then, with a heaping dose of guilt, that his visits had been sparse over the years.

He asks for a couple of days of leave, neglecting to mention why in his grief, which Simon grants him immediately. Johnny frets over him but is waved away with barely a glance since Simon is bent over his work – as is so often the case. Once he's packed and ready to leave, Simon assures him he’ll be fine and Johnny doesn’t have the energy to insist he finds a temporary replacement.

Two weeks later he returns to a frazzled Simon and a mess of a house. How he’d ever managed it in such a short amount of time Johnny will never know. Especially worrying is the stove-top, which looks to have caught on fire if the soot-stained wallpaper above it is any indication.

Simon scurries over as soon as the rasp of the unlatching lock sounds and clasps Johnny’s hands in his, asking earnestly what he can possibly do to never have Johnny leave him again.

Johnny, exhausted as he is, makes an off-handed joke that Simon marry him before he retreats to his chambers, promising to take on the task of putting the house back in order first thing in the morning.

Well… Simon has always been a man of action.

[yaeggravate]

good afternoon, kaeya alberich. pictured in front of you is an indication called "attrition" that is inflicted on the active character by the abyssal enemies tenebrous papilla and lord of eroded primal fire. on the second image is the symbol of your passive talent "glacial heart" which looks nearly identical to that of "attrition". you have twelve seconds to explain yourself. good luck.

[genshin-impact-updates]

New Boss: "Lord of Eroded Primal Fire"

Hello, Traveler!

After the Version 5.3 update, you will encounter a new Boss, "Lord of Eroded Primal Fire." Let's check out what special traits it has and how to deal with them~

[snnrinc]

Dance of Hearts

[AO3 Portal]

— PAIRING : Wyll Ravengard x GN!Reader/Tav

— TAGS : NSFW, jealousy, oral (Wyll receiving), overstimulation, fluff and smut, gender neutral reader, reader is insecure, Wyll is a loving husband, no mention of reader's genitals but they are the receiving partner

SUMMARY : You needed more, you needed to see him crumble beneath you, begging you to push him right over the edge. You needed him to chant your name and sinful declarations of love and devotion until it was the only thing you could hear falling from his sweet tongue, until the image of those bastards putting their hands on him and keeping him away from you all night was replaced by the one of Wyll coming undone and looking up at you in adoration.

And being the ever doting husband, Wyll was more than happy to make your fantasies a reality.

— WORD COUNT : 4.7k

— AUTHOR'S NOTE : Since Larian didn't give us a scene with Wyll, I have taken it upon myself to ensure I write this man as satisfied.

The liquid in your glass swirled with each rotation of your wrist, holding your attention if only for a few moments. It was enough of a distraction to allow you a second to regulate your expression, lest your eyebrow twitch in annoyance again right in front of some of the most influential people of Baldur's Gate. You attempted to sip again from the glass, but the way your drink burned down your throat like liquid fire was enough to have you pull back and hurriedly mask how your nose scrunched up at the sensation. Some draconic alcoholic drink, you recalled, one that you didn't bother to remember the name of, but that you should've expected would be so strong since it was crafted by people who can breathe actual fire.

You set your drink down on a table in your little corner of the room, abandoning it for whatever butler was quick to snatch it to maintain the spotless appearance of the ballroom. Now without your distraction, you scanned the room, noting how even while basking in the brilliant glimmer of the chandeliers hanging above, you still managed to blend into the shadows. Something told you it wasn't your well-honed stealth skills that kept the nobles' attention away from you. Rather, you were sure the hostility came from being akin to an intruder in the upper class, the hero of Baldur's Gate that married into nobility, your background be damned.

The air was thick with rare alcoholic drinks and expensive perfumes, enough to make you nauseous as arrogant laughter and shameless gossip intermingled in a cacophony of upper city superiority, a tune that you always begrudgingly played to. Or tried to, at least. You were sure the fake smiles and sugar-coated pleasantries shared amongst the nobility around you were enough to make even Astarion gag, let alone you. But perhaps your attitude towards the entire event that you were attending was also contributing to your unwillingness to mingle and meddle in affairs you had no interest in.

At last, your scrutinising gaze fell on the person you were most excited to see: your husband Wyll. His presence shone from the middle of a group of lords and ladies that were engaged in a political discussion like a ray of sunshine slipping through the cracks of a dull wall eroded by corruption. You felt your shoulders relax the moment your eyes met and his smile softened just for you. With a polite wave and a sweet smile, you began walking towards him, making sure to use a proper posture so as to maintain his image and yours.

You saw Wyll excuse himself and exchange handshakes and smiles with the other noblemen, bowing politely before he began his journey to meet you halfway. You sighed in relief that finally you'd have the opportunity to dance with your husband, spend some time holding him close so you could drown out the world and focus on his calming presence, but your plans were cut short the moment a woman stepped in his path and bowed her head with reverence, asking him if he'd spare a dance. With an apologetic look sent your way, he politely accepted her request and led her towards the centre of the ballroom, taking their place in an elegant dance amidst the other couples.

It wouldn't have been a problem for you, if it didn't keep happening.

One after another, more and more men and women began interrupting you and your husband, stealing him away for whatever political or business conversation, getting too close whenever they requested a dance or offering drinks too insistently. It had your blood boiling.

Your mood only continued to sour whenever you'd notice people leering at your husband, their hands far too comfortable on his waist, their heads bowing in much too close of a proximity to his, their eyes narrowing and lips turning into arrogant smiles whenever they caught you glaring from across the room. The fact that you felt out of place certainly did not help your feelings.

Before you knew it, the night had ended without you having any chance to even talk to your husband, let alone dance with him, and your thoughts had been left alone to marinate for longer than it was healthy.

Which is why you now felt on the verge of tears whenever you caught a glimpse of Wyll from the corner of your eye, walking beside you towards your shared bedchamber. You could tell he was tired, could see it on his face as his eyelids fell heavy half-way through. You blinked away tears of anger and frustration and fiddled with your sleeves as you tried to collect your thoughts, but whenever you managed to put them into place, they fell apart and spiralled once again.

You were a burden, one to be ashamed of. To think that Wyll just graciously took each and every insult thrown at him about his new demonic appearance only to now have yet another stain upon his reputation, his spouse no less, the one who was supposed to be lifting him up and enhancing his image, not tarnishing it further. You were aware most of it just came from ruthless gossip, but being marginalised either out of arrogance or out of jealousy was starting to get to you. You began to see the images all the mean-spirited whispers were trying so hard to project into your mind: perhaps Wyll would be better suited at the side of a better person, maybe one of the people that kept stealing him away for a romantic dance, a more handsome man with power over commerce, a more graceful woman who could charm others into agreeing with Wyll's plans to better the city. Someone who was not you.

By the time you reached your room, you didn't even realise just how obvious your feelings were on your face. You opened the door more forcefully than necessary and stepped inside, a confused and worried Wyll following you closely. You sat down on the bed unceremoniously and began to unlace whatever strings were holding your emblazoned jacket tied neatly.

“Love, is everything alright with you?”

You looked up, ready to brush off any concerns Wyll would voice, but your train of thought was cut off right as your eyes met with his. He regarded you with such care, worry swimming in his soft eyes as he kneeled beside you and placed his hand over your knee. You shook your head and tried to tell him he can just sit beside you, but you knew he wanted to have a direct line of vision to your troubled gaze.

“You've been acting off this evening. Do you want to talk about it?”

His gentle tone pulled at your heartstrings. It made you want to wrap your arms around him and kiss him while also wanting to just break down crying in frustration.

Instead, you decided that he had dealt with enough stress for one night.

“Nothing, dear. I'm okay, just tired,” you said through a fake smile and reached out to brush your fingers across his cheek.

“Don't lie to me.” His firm response had your expression drop, and although his touch was gentle as he leaned into your palm to kiss it, his eyes were almost admonishing you for trying to deflect. “I won't pry if you don't wish to tell me, but just know you don't have to hide from me.”

Oh how easy it was for him to slip through the cracks of your armour, it was almost scary. With a frown, you decided to come clean, unable to resist the need to fall into his comforting arms, wishing just to hear his voice whispering vows of his undying devotion to you as you drifted off to sleep.

“You deserve the world, Wyll,” you said, voice shaking with emotion. “I can't even give you a fraction of that. Not in the way that another could…”

“What are you talking about?” His hands came to cup your cheeks softly and you leaned into his warm touch, grabbing onto his wrist like a lifeline, the only tether left to your self-control. “You've already given me the world; it's standing right in front of me, the love of my life. I often feel like the colours around me are so vibrant simply because of your radiating presence. What have I done to make you think otherwise?”

You shook your head quickly, noticing how doubt and sorrow settled in his expression. “No, no, it's not that! You didn't do anything, I just…” Wyll remained quiet, waiting for you to take in a small breath and continue. “I know you've noticed the way the other nobles look at you, the way they talk about our union. Despite everything that happened, they see me as less than, or perhaps a threat to a potential opportunity to get closer to you.”

“Surely you wouldn't want me stuck in a loveless marriage with a pompous noble whose most interesting attribute is a stick they keep hidden where the sun doesn't reach.”

“Of course not, Wyll.” You frowned and Wyll fell silent. “I feel like I don't belong. These people kept you away from me all night and kept throwing mean glares my way. I didn't want to complain because I know you're dealing with a lot, but I don't like the way they kept sticking to you like leeches.”

“So you're jealous? Is that it?”

“Well maybe I am jealous!” you suddenly burst out. “Maybe I am, because you're just so perfect that I don't understand how you chose me when you could've had anyone else in the world!”

You breathed out and finally registered the surprised face of Wyll. He opened his mouth, but before any words could spill out, you pulled yourself out of his grasp and turned away, ashamed at your irrational outburst. Gods, maybe you had too much to drink, maybe a single sip of draconic alcohol was enough to have you getting dizzy in embarrassment and frustration. How childish, to just spill out your insecurities in anger. Perhaps this was why others deemed you unfit to be one of the rulers of Baldur's Gate.

“My love,” came Wyll's soothing voice, but you dared not turn to look him in the eye. “Would you believe me if I said that every morning when I wake up and I'm greeted with your sleeping face on the pillow next to mine, I tell myself I'm not worthy of this?” You sighed and crossed your arms, unsure if you could even believe such a thing. “You're… incredible. You're more than I could have ever asked for and you have no idea how lucky I am to be by your side. The fact that I get to call you my spouse is honestly a dream come true.”

He took a step closer to you and gently placed his hands on your arm, turning you around slowly and searching your eyes. Your shoulders relaxed when you felt his warmth close and you allowed yourself to look back at his loving gaze. One of his hands came up to caress your cheek once again, a gentle smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“We've endured many dangers in our adventures. I'd do it all over again for you. I'd traverse the flames of Avernus, I'd fight any monster in Faerûn, I'd endure any pain so long as I get to see you smile. Those posh people from high society don't know you like I do. They don't know me like you do.” Softly, he placed his forehead against yours, his other hand moving up your arm to rest on the other side of your face as you placed your hands on his waist. “I could never love anyone else like I love you, my heart. The flaws that you see in yourself, they only add to your perfection to me.”

“Wyll…”

“Don't push me away, please,” he said, a hint of desperation lacing his voice. “I love you. Let me love you.”

His lips brushed against yours, pulling back slightly, and when you chased his kiss he fully gave in to you. He pulled you close, one hand falling to wrap around your waist and press your body against his as you got lost into the sweetness of his mouth. The way he kissed you was loving, sensuous, but you were hungry, greedily craving more of his love and touch. You parted your lips and swiped your tongue on the bottom of his lip, and with a grunt of pleasure, he granted you access to deepen the kiss.

Your hands moved from his hips to his chest, fingers finding the buttons of his satin shirt and unbuttoning them with urgency. When your hands dipped beneath the fabric to feel his skin, he let out a soft moan and pulled back slightly, only for your lips to trail down his jaw and to his neck, kissing every bit that you could reach.

“Slow, slow, my love, slow,” he muttered, breath hitching when you kissed the spot right under his ear. “Let me take care of you. I want us to take our time.”

He placed his hands on your arms and pulled you away just enough to look at you. You finally took your time to admire him, his clothes that up until that moment had been neatly covering his body were now rumpled from your hands pulling at them. You hadn't had time to light any of the candles around your bedchamber, but the large windows allowed enough moonlight to fall through the room to see the details of his appearance, the angles of his face. His chest was slightly exposed, a thin layer of sweat already forming over his skin. His lips were swollen from your kiss, still wet and parted to allow shallow breaths to pass through. And his eyes… Despite his gentlemanly words about taking his time to make you feel good, they were positively burning with lust. But even so, the love he held for you managed to shine through when his expression softened as he took in your dishevelled look.

“Okay,” you responded, nodding your head. “Let's take it slow then.”

He smiled at your words and leaned in to kiss your forehead, his hands moving to the laces and buttons holding your shirt together. “May I?”

You nodded and moved closer, capturing his lips in a kiss once again but letting him set the pace this time, slow and loving, melting into him as his fingers pushed away the fabrics from your body. Your hands grabbed the silky material of his shirt, pulling it from his trousers and working in tandem with him to undress each other. Eventually, you were both nude before each other, your expensive clothes scattered haphazardly on the floor.

His hands were gentle as they traversed your skin, slow and graceful as they traced each curve and edge of your body, your own exploring the expanse of his back, moving to his sides, abdomen, then travelling higher up to his chest. He moaned softly in your mouth when your palms grazed his nipples, one of his hands twitching against your hip while the other found its way towards your chest.

Without breaking the kiss, you guided Wyll to your bed until his legs hit the frame and he pulled away to lay down. You took your place on top of him, lowering your head to pepper kisses across his face that had him chuckling. You smiled, trailing your lips back to his jaw, this time slower than before, kissing down his neck and collarbone. He sighed at the feeling, your hands moving across his body to feel each ridge and bump on his skin—courtesy of his demonic attributes—only serving to pull him deeper in a trance. His skin felt hot beneath your fingers, his breathing getting heavier with each soft kiss you planted on his body, your lips eventually reaching his nipple and wrapping around it as you swiped your tongue against it. Wyll gasped, placing one hand to the nape of your neck, feeling goosebumps spread on his skin when your fingers found his other nipple.

“My love,” he began, followed by another soft moan. “I'm supposed to be taking care of you.”

“Please, Wyll, I need this.”

He didn't argue further, the hint of desperation in your voice not lost on him. You shifted lower on his body, pressing close to him while your abdomen brushed against his hardness, pulling a hiss from between his teeth. The sound only served to spur you on as you continued your journey down his stomach, your hands drifting to his hips while you felt him melt under your kisses. Eventually, when you were satisfied with how breathless he seemed to be from the smallest of touches, you caressed his thigh with one hand, going higher and higher as his muscles tensed under your palm, then twitched when you finally wrapped your hand around him.

“My heart!” Wyll gasped, his wrist quickly finding yours and touching it gently. “You don't have to-”

“Will you be good for me, my dear?”

Wyll looked down and was reminded why he was so thankful of the darkvision that his good eye offered, perhaps the only positive from his curse, for as soon as his gaze landed on you he was sure he was enchanted. Your eyes were looking back at him, shadowed by lust, commanding submission to your will, with your hand firmly wrapped around him, your lips inching closer to the tip of his cock.

“Yes,” Wyll answered, his voice barely a whisper. Although his tongue felt like lead in his mouth, he was willing to agree to whatever you suggested, if only you'd keep looking at him like that. “I'll be good.”

You offered him a smile, your tongue darting out to lick gently at his tip, relishing the way he gasped out your name with a trembling voice. You shifted your hand slightly, pressing your tongue flat at his base then dragging it upwards, the simple movement already having Wyll throw his head back in pleasure, but even so, some shakes of excitement and a few soft moans were not enough. You needed more, you needed to see him crumble beneath you, begging you to push him right over the edge. You needed him to chant your name and sinful declarations of love and devotion until it was the only thing you could hear falling from his sweet tongue, until the image of those bastards putting their hands on him and keeping him away from you all night was replaced by the one of Wyll coming undone and looking up at you in adoration.

You groaned at the thought, opening your mouth and finally tasting him fully, hollowing your cheeks to make sure you fit as much of him as you could. The choked moan that slipped from Wyll's lips only further sent you deeper into desire, your tongue swirling around him as your hand worked him in tandem, making sure that whatever part you couldn't take would not go neglected. Your free hand rested on his thigh for support, feeling the muscles flex with each bob of your head, each suck and lick, as your fingers dug into it. Wyll's moans became more constant, falling from every other breath and beckoning you like a siren's song. You moaned as well, the vibration of your voice reverberating through his length and making his mind melt.

His fingers found your head, placing his palms on it gently but not daring to make any move to push you lower, cautious not to hurt you even while lost in the throes of pleasure. Instead, he tried to distract himself from the urge to thrust into your mouth by muttering sweet praises under his breath, shivers cascading down his body with each beat of his heart, each pulse of arousal. He was approaching the sweet precipice at a dizzying speed, with how you were licking and sucking at him, swallowing every drop of precum leaking from his tip. His body was hot, trembling beneath you, and soon enough his mind was so far gone in a fog of lust that he began to mindlessly string together words he hoped made sense.

“P-please, my love,” he uttered breathlessly, a whine escaping him. “Gods, please! Please, I'm so close!”

You hummed, earning a grunt from him at the vibration coursing through him, and when you felt the muscles in his thighs tense up, you raised your head. Wyll groaned, throwing his head back, your tongue teasingly tracing the length of his cock again. His fingers twitched on your head, palms pushing you down slightly in a silent demand for more before he stopped himself and gripped the sheets instead.

“Hells, why did you stop?” he asked, looking down at you with a disappointed frown only to be met with a serious expression. “Love? What's wrong?”

You gently caressed his thigh, tilting your head slightly as you watched him try to catch his breath, concerned clearly written on his face. You shifted, slowly crawling higher on his body.

“Remember when we took a vow?”

Confusion glinted in his eyes, but still he regarded you with sincerity, raising his hand so he could caress your cheek.

“How could I forget? It was the happiest day of my life.”

Satisfied, you lowered your head to press kisses up his chest, speaking between each one, “What did we promise each other?”

“That we'll be together, come what may.”

You hummed, kissing his neck, then his cheek, while your hand slithered lower to wrap around his cock again, revelling in how his breath hitched. Your lips shifted to his ear while Wyll placed his palms on your hips, guiding you closer to where he needed your body.

“And who did you vow to belong to?” you continued, your teeth grazing against the edge of his earlobe.

“You,” Wyll responded right away, almost eager to proclaim it. “I belong to you.”

You smiled at his answer, positioning yourself on top of him so the tip of his cock would line up with your entrance. Your thumb caressed his cheekbone affectionately as you lifted your head to look into his eyes, the adoration you held for him clearly visible through the specks of lust still swimming in your gaze.

“And who do I belong to, forever and always?”

Wyll raised his hand from your hip to run his knuckles against your cheek gently, regarding you like you were the embodiment of peace and beauty, washing over him like sunlight, your every touch akin to the summer breeze. Refreshing, calming, hot.

“You're mine,” he answered, eyes darkening once he felt you rub against him, so close to finally enveloping him in your warmth. “All mine.”

You leaned down and pressed your lips against his, your tongue swiping across his bottom lip as he opened his mouth to taste you in return. You lowered your body slowly, both of you moaning in each other's mouth as he entered you at last, your body adjusting to him and wrapping around him like the Gods themselves carved the shape of you to match his. It didn't take long for the embers within him to reignite, raging deep into the pit of his gut like the flames of Avernus, sending rivers of fire through the very marrow of his bones with each thrust.

You broke your kiss to watch Wyll as his mind began to slip, drowning in the passion you both shared. His body was glistening with sweat, muscles shaking as he grasped at whatever part of you he could reach, your hips working in a hypnotising rhythm that had any coherent thought evaporate from both of your minds. To him, you looked divine, your muscles flexing with each movement, mouth slightly agape to let out short breaths and delicious moans, your brows frowned in concentration. It only took you muttering a sincere “I love you” for Wyll to tumble over the edge earlier than he had hoped.

“Hells below,” he whispered, a groan following shortly after when you continued moving even as he came down from his high, his senses going into overdrive at how sensitive he was. “My love, I- Gods, you're still-”

Looking up at you was a mistake on his part, the sinful sight of your eyes gazing at him with such desire overwhelming enough that he thought he'd either come again or have a heart attack. He writhed beneath you, not wanting to stop you when you felt so incredible, like you were guiding him up to the summit of Mount Celestia itself. Wyll discovered he was grateful for one more demonic trait he had been punished with: his stamina. He was sure that was the only thing keeping him from losing his grip on his last thread of sanity.

“You can take it for me, Wyll, can't you?” Gods yes, he could take whatever you wanted if you continued to speak to him like that, the demand in your voice hidden underneath a honeyed tone. “You can give me one more.”

Goosebumps crawled up his body and a choked moan got stuck in his throat as you sped up the pace, watching intently as he fell apart beneath you and began chanting your name like a delirious prayer. Your name, none of those heartless nobles who dared keep him away from you.

“Should've done this sooner,” you said, breathless. “Should've come up to you on that ballroom floor and showed everyone that you're well and thoroughly taken.”

You gripped the headboard, focused on chasing your own release knowing that Wyll was close again. He felt so good, the angle at which you were lowering yourself on him ensuring that he hit every spot you needed him to, until your moans got louder, until your sweet praises and filthy declarations became unintelligible. Before you knew it, you came over him, pulling him right after you into the deep end of white hot pleasure, his hands gripping your hips in an almost bruising manner, while yours dug into the headboard so hard you were surprised you didn't break it. After a moment of catching your breath, you pulled away, groaning at how his softening cock dragged against your walls at the motion, before you collapsed next to him.

It only took a second for Wyll to reach out for you, pulling you close to him, the shaking in his limbs beginning to subside as he pressed loving kisses on the crown of your head. You hugged him back, tracing aimless patterns on his back as you got lost in the scent of him, closing your eyes in bliss.

“Thank you, Wyll,” you uttered, your voice muffled from how your lips pressed to his collarbone.

Wyll pulled away slightly to look at your eyes, the moonlight bleeding through the windows bathing you in an ethereal glow. He almost lost track of what you had said, too preoccupied focusing his entire being on how gorgeous you looked, naked beside him, your tired eyes holding so much love it had his heart skipping several beats. And to think you'd ever believe he could love someone else, when not even the greatest wizards and sorcerers in the Forgotten Realms could have one this enchanted with the love of their life.

Wyll finally remembered what he wanted to say, the back of his palm brushing against your cheek.

“What for?” he asked.

“Reassuring me.”

He chuckled, squeezing you close to his heart, one hand rubbing against your arm.

“You don't need to thank me for that. What kind of husband would I be if I didn't shower my dear spouse in all the affection I can offer?”

You smiled at that, allowing your body to relax in his arms, your breathing evening out as you listened to his heart steadily beating in tandem with yours. You relished how he kissed you so gently, how his hands banished any sort of tension from your muscles, how his presence finally silenced the awful voice in your head that dared to make you think even for a second that Wyll would ever have eyes for another.

Just as you were about to fall asleep, completely at peace enveloped in his warmth, Wyll spoke up:

“I also wouldn't mind repeating myself, if you ever get jealous again.”

You smiled, pinching his side playfully as he laughed and threw the covers over both of you, finally settling into a deep slumber.

[thrashkink-coven]

What I thought being patroned to Lucifer would be like for me:

Lots of intense rituals, blood offerings, and sacrifices to keep the demon lord happy. The work is never done. Strict rules and serious business. This isn’t a game, it’s not supposed be fun or enjoyable. I am being tossed into the fire. Demons and shadow people would follow me everywhere, I’d constantly be protecting myself from his enemies and fighting for my life. I may loose my mind. God would hate me. Lucifer would make my life difficult to help me grow into an enlightened god on earth. He would demand respect and force me to do things to teach me lessons. He would make me hate God. I’d be afraid all the time. My relationships might erode but it’s for the best. I would learn how to live without emotions or worldly connections. An ugly, vengeful demon lord with a terrible voice would appear to me and teach me how to use my hatred to gain control over this world. I won’t like who I am at the end of it but it won’t matter because at least I’ll be free.

What being patroned to Lucifer is actually like for me:

I am God’s favourite. I am constantly spoiled with gifts and celebrated. Most of the demons in the hierarchy immediately recognize me as his and give me respect and right of way. Lucifer doesn’t demand offerings but he gets so excited and touched whenever he receives them. Any time I offer him my blood he acts like it’s an incredible gift. He helps me work through problems and encourages me to live a fulfilling life free from unnecessary stress. He provides me with countless books to educate myself with. He asks me to make art for him and he sends me familiars to remind me he is always protecting me. Shadow people and malevolent spirits cower away from his light. He calls me pet names and asks me to tell him about my day. He tells me how much he loves me every day. He never raises his voice at me or forces me to do anything. The only thing he commands is that I worship and honour myself. He encourages me to pray and heal my relationships with God. He visits me in my dreams to give me kisses. He offers me pleasure and gives me rewards. He loves just spending time together. Every morning when I burn incense at his altar, he thanks me for waking up. My relationships with the people who are good to my grow stronger and more lovely, and my relationships to the people who are bad to me break down so that they can no longer harm me. Crows follow me around and leave me feathers to give him, stray cats and deer like to say hello to me. I see beautiful things every day. Every morning and night I get to watch the Lucifer star rise. and I’m truly happy and at peace for what feels like the first time ever, and there isn’t a problem I can’t overcome. I’m not afraid of anything. He’s so incredibly beautiful and kind, he makes beautiful music with a beautiful voice, and he teaches me to use empathy to understand others. I love him and he loves me. I am free.

[genshinimpactresources]

Genshin Impact | 5.3 Phase 1 Namecards

All Namecards

[dumbitchery]

Ixlel and Ajaw

Last night I did the Ochkanatlan World Quest Open Your Heart to Me, I want to talk about my thoughts on Ixlel as a character and all the thoughts that I had about Ajaw during this quest.

Tumblr broke my rubytext so I'm just going to use {curly brackets} to indicate what was original ruby'd.

If you don't recognise "rubytext" as a term, it's supposed to look like this: Little words hovering over the normal text.

The words K'uhul and Ajaw

Before I did this quest, as an Ajaw simp, the information that the words K'uhul and Ajaw appear in this quest was already something I knew about. Even back then, when I saw the screenshots, I guessed that it was a whole lot of nothing, and now that I've seen them in context, I feel that even more strongly.

If you don't remember, K'uhul and Ajaw appear over words in Ixlel's dialogue as rubytext:

Ixlel: For you are the noble one, the Chosen of Dragons. Apart from our lost colleagues in rulership {Ajaw}, you alone have the right to give unto me release befitting of my rank. Ixlel: This is a step of self-protection, and only by this may I not violate the destined {K'uhul}, sacred law.

We know from Kinich Story 5 that K'uhul Ajaw is just a title and not an actual, real name:

It may seem strange that Kinich, loner that he is, goes nowhere without a certain self-proclaimed "K'uhul Ajaw" — meaning "Divine Lord" — hanging around him.

In these rubytexts, Genshin is doing what it usually does with ruby text, it is just providing an alternative word in the relevant dialect. Anyone who is even vaguely interested in Mayan history will know what Ajaw means. It is not actually about Ajaw The Character.

Ajaw The Character rotted in a cave for like, 10 thousand years, or something. Unlike Ixlel he is crazy and eroded by time (in the sense that Zhongli talked about in that one quest ages ago). I don't think he knows his own name anymore, so the title K'uhul Ajaw is all that he offers as part of his weird chuunibyou fantasy. Do I think that The Character Ajaw DID used to be a ruler of some sort? Yes, it's likely. But he's so weird about it that I'm going to keep bullying him.

Even the wiki page about Ixlel seems to have taken the "Ajaw" thing at face value.

In the past, she may have been acquainted with Ajaw, as she refers to him as a "lost colleague in rulership."

While I do feel that it is likely that these dragons knew each other, I do not like how they reached that conclusion. It's also likely that The Character Ajaw IS one of her lost colleagues in rulership, I just wanted to make it really clear that she is not namedropping him or speaking of him explicitly.

The horror and revulsion of draconic evil

While I was playing through this world quest, I couldn't stop thinking about the horror game Amnesia: The Dark Descent. The way we progress further and further underground with no easy way of return, the way that all the pieces of paper you pick up tell such bleak stories of death, decay, cruelty, and some sort of deep, eldritch evil as the human characters uncover an ancient artifact that is beyond their comprehension. Ixlel's sealed self seems to radiate a dark, unknowable curse that torments the people who are digging, and she appears in Manqu's vision in a terrifying way. (Artisan's Memo (II))

Back when it happened, beneath that giant, grotesque statue, I met a young woman within Och-Kan's fire. Slowly and calmly she walked towards me, as if the fire were nothing more than a gentle spring breeze. Her face… I have never seen anything like it. Even the purest of crystals could not be fashioned into the likeness of such skin, nor could the purest of turquoise be carved into such eyes. Yet for reasons I cannot explain, that face, which should have been the very picture of beauty, was… so nauseatingly repulsive. I did not know who — nor even what — she was. I opened my mouth and wanted to beg her, beg her to save me, yet my lips… had been burned beyond all recognition, and I could not utter even a single word. She smiled, a smile laced with a cruel and arrogant malice. She held my face in her hand, and from those turquoise eyes, golden tears fell into mine. And then I saw it. A colossal creation, far larger than the rolling mountains, shining with a brilliance more dazzling than obsidian, floating in the sky like a volcanic cloud. Around it circled countless giant metal birds, greedily sucking away at its dark blood. I saw shadows driven by flowing flames, climbing high from distant horizons to the moon up in the sky, from which tremors and sighs were sent out unimaginable distances via but a single string woven from gold and white copper. She sneered by my ear, as if all humanity had achieved up to this point was nothing more than child's play, as utterly inconsequential as the doings of ants, of beings capable only of crawling around beneath the heavens, trembling away while seeking their inglorious graves. And what they fought, what they were pitted up against, was an inveterate foe as formidable as an entire world. Through those turquoise eyes, those pupils whose beauty was almost terrifying, I saw naught but endless, unfathomable darkness and void; a space that no language could describe, unlike anything I have ever seen in the brief few decades of my transient life. So it was that I began to scream, stumbling as I crawled along that path, but even my blood-curdling screams were drowned out by her laughter, and dissipated without a trace. When I next woke, I was lying here alone. I did not dare look back, lest those profane, forbidden things, those things that no person should ever know, might catch and tear me to pieces. The others must all have died, perishing in the flames of Och-Kan's fire. Perhaps those were not her tears. Perhaps they were simply drops of water that fell from that giant, grotesque stone statue behind her. Perhaps there was nothing in the fire, and that woman was just an illusion of my delirium, something I imagined as I stood on the precipice of death. But now, none of that matters; for I am still alive, and that is all that counts.

I'm going to keep referring back to that passage.

This... evil, grotesque uncovering of a sealed dragon forms a parallel to the discovery of Ajaw in Kinich's Character Story 5.

All this goes back to an ancient dragon ruin that was rumored to contain a "secret draconic treasure." It was unearthed due to an earthquake, and before long, had attracted much attention. After more than a few initial surveying parties were lost, however, any interested parties that were still remaining began to wise up. At this time, Kinich was already a Saurian Hunter of some repute, and thus was invited by one such team to join. It was only after they had entered that they found the place teeming with monsters and mechanisms, discovering that it was far more perilous than the rumors had suggested. Some died, others were wounded, and others still fell back, until at last only Kinich reached the ruin's depths. And that was where he encountered the ancient being, K'uhul Ajaw, who had been sealed away. He immediately sensed the wickedness in the other party's voice, but also realized that its power might be useful even so.

They gloss over it but man, people died, lol.

I don't know, I just think it's interesting that these dragons are supposed to be nauseatingly horrifying to an average human. And then you meet them and they're just kind of cringe little guys. The way they are spoken about makes them feel like they're some type of Keter SCP.

I like the little crumb that apparently ritualistic killing is more normal than corn in dragon society.

Ixlel: Cut my chest open as you would peel Grainfruit leaves, and dig my heart out. Paimon: Sure... Uh, wait a minute. You just said something super scary so casually... Ixlel: Scary? You mean the Grainfruit? How chicken-hearted you are, elemental floating object... Paimon: What? What are you talking about? Who'd be afraid of Grainfruit anyway? Paimon's talking about that last part, with the whole "dig out your heart" thing! Ixlel: Hmm? Is that not a more pedestrian thing than Grainfruit? Ah, Noble (Traveler), do you not have your servants attend you as you partake in sacrifices?

Parallels with Ajaw

I guess my above section already starts to go into how Ixlel and Ajaw have a lot of parallels with each other. There are a lot of things we can extrapolate about Ajaw now that we have met Ixlel.

Human form: In Manqu's vision (I pasted almost the whole thing higher up), Ixlel appears as a disgustingly beautiful human woman. I think it's safe to assume that Ajaw likely had his own human form back in the day, though whether he remembers what it looks like or if we will ever be able to see it is something that I do not know.

Entrapment: It's pretty obvious that the nature of their entrapment is similar. Ixlel's full name is even Ix Uxul Tz'ib Bolon Ch'ule-L {Type-L Self-Regulating Overseer Array Integrated Processing Unit}, as you can see from the rubytext, those fuckers gave her a name as if she is just some fancy model of computer! When I first met her, I assumed she was some ancient dragon AI module, not a real dragon who got trapped in a statue. In the quest it is shown that she has limited "life force" in this state and by the end she uses it all up and dies. It makes me feel like Ajaw got really lucky getting imprisoned the way that he was. Whether he too has a limited life force is unknown but the way that he has a human form lined up (Kinich) makes me think that he has an ever-evolving life ahead of him. He is fortunate to be able to project himself with phlogiston, unlike Ixlel who at best can appear in the sick delirious burning visions of humans, something that we don't get to see for ourselves.

Outlook on life: Ixlel is still quite level headed and tormented by her memories, explaining to us that they are a curse to her (and the mechanism by which she was imprisoned?). The whole quest is about her asking to die in a dignified manner, for she knows she is slowly dying anyway. Compare to Ajaw who is kind of delusional, seems to have forgotten a whole lot of shit, and is generally bent on staying alive and making it everyone else's problem.

Sovereignship: This is something I am very hazy about, but whenever Ajaw would call himself a sovereign I had thought that he was trying to pass himself off as the literal Pyro Sovereign. Perhaps he Was trying to lie about that, or maybe I'm just fucking stupid, because Ixlel introduces herself as the sovereign of Chichen Uctokah which according to the wiki is the original dragon civilization in the area of Ochkanatlan. I'm not going to fact check that myself so I just hope it's true. So yeah I'm... hmm I can't reach a coherent conclusion with this information but it's something I will chew on. It just recontextualised to me what a dragon could mean when they say Sovereign.

Thoughts on the Chosen of Dragons: I like how Ixlel recognises Lumine as the Chosen of Dragons and immediately thinks highly of her. I think this is partially why the human character Manqu has such a hostile encounter with her, whilst we get to have a fairly wholesome conversation with her instead. I don't think Ajaw knows Lumine is Chosen of Dragons and I'm unsure as to if he is able to do anything with the information, but as someone who is obsessed with Ajaw's relationship with the traveler it gives me another thing to think about.

Ajaw death flag?:

Ixlel: Hehe... It seems you have yet to meet my colleagues of old. Ixlel: Otherwise, they would have told you that destruction is our destined {K'uhul} path. There is no need for another, nor is it possible to find one.

(I don't actually think it's that serious, I'm sure all the "erosion" that Ajaw has gone through is probably destruction enough.)

My thoughts on Ixlel as a character

Ix Uxul Tz'ib Bolon Ch'ule-L {Type-L Self-Regulating Overseer Array Integrated Processing Unit}... When Paimon takes her long name and just decides to call her Ixlel instead, I thought that was so rude, but as usual I immediately took it on and started using it myself.

Side note about Paimon:

It's my headcanon that Paimon knows all of the dialects in Teyvat (for there isn't just Teyvatian, there are MANY real world languages that are in Teyvat, most obvious example is how Yun Jin always sings in Chinese no matter the dub) and that is why we are able to "read" all the papers we pick up, because it feels unrealistic to me that they would ALL be written in Teyvatian instead of the regional dialect. Anyway, according to the wiki, Ixlel is a Mayan Tzeltal word that means "little sister". This choice of nickname kind of intensifies my headcanon about Paimon knowing all the languages. It also makes it a very cute nickname.

Hmm... You know, if her full name just translates to that rubytext computer name... I just realised that her original name must have been lost as well. Do dragons even have names at all, do they just go by different titles throughout their lives in the same way that their physical form is constantly changing? Or are Ixlel and Ajaw just specific cases... Unsure if Ixlel is also 'eroded' or if her name was overwritten when she was imprisoned, it's probably the latter.

When I did the quest, I actually did the entire thing thinking that Ixlel was male. Only when I was reading more scraps of paper in the final room did it click for me that the evil woman in Manqu's vision and the stammery dragon statue were one and the same.

I LOVE her. She has overthrown Apep in my mind as the sexiest dragon waifu (lol). And I miss her so much already...

She has that same dusty old haughty way of speaking that Ajaw does, but she's much nicer to us and stammers when she gets flustered...

And she got enslaved so bad

Wasn't going to drink tonight but I'm missing Ixlel like a motherfucker

[endlessskymaster]

Of course, they're going with the show don't tell approach towards the Traveler's ancient name.

[tirsden]

The f2p challenge gang does not have Mavvy, nor do I have plans to pull her or build build any Natlan chars at this point for these guys (maybe Ororon if he ever shows up). So, I threw together an EM pyro traveler build and I'll see what I can do about getting his talents to non-crowned cap. Sucks that his weekly boss drops aren't even weekly boss drops... they're quest rewards. Ugh. On the plus side, I had enough of those to cap his skill already.

I also had to make a wild guess on what the heck team comp to take to their newly-unlocked boss, as main account uses Navia and le freebies no have blasty-brella girl. So I played it safe with DPS Baizhu carry... technically they're all healers lol (Geo daddy running his healer build as he's been in that mode for the friendship farmies lately).

Pros for this comp:

All heals all the time

Natlan garbage element is present

Nobody got one-shot (Navia huffs in the distance)

Cons:

Took quite a while

Not even kidding on "quite a while"... I'm going to have to make a point of taking my time on the main account to get this one: