#Metalsea: The Lost Empire

[tryingtimi]

33

A Home So Far, Yet So Near

Dancing With Your Ghost by Sasha Alex Sloan. It was a song you showed me, and I immediately started writing a Metalsea bit for it. And now I ended up finishing it, after many many months, lol. So thank you, love! I don't think it needs so much context, it's just a little siblings dynamic exploration between Syon and Avelyn.

TINY CONTEXT: Avelyn and Syon weren't so close when they were little, and their paths separate. After a long-long time, they meet again, and have some bonding time.

BOOK II EXPLORATION | DYNAMIC EXPLORATION | MOSTLY FLUFF | SISTER DYNAMIC | WC: 1787

Yaran’s Mid-Summer Festival held such a strange version in its glowing belly.

Avelyn smiled at Cronyl, suppressing a sigh.

The grandiose bonfire crackled in the centre of the desert, people dancing and singing around. They ate, drank, and celebrated in a way that could nearly convince Avelyn that life wasn’t fully known back in her home. Bra’aka could lure even Cronyl to the dancefloor, teasing relentlessly about his make-believe inability. They did not last too long, yet the ghostly touch of a smile still rested on his lip when he walked back to her. Since then, they sat on the two sides of this rough stone table, watching the lot, hands touching on the top just enough to feel the other’s presence.

Avelyn should have wanted to dance with Cronyl. Every couple did that. She, however, was overwhelmed by another feeling. She loved to be around Cronyl, she wanted to be around him. But tonight, for the longest time perhaps, her mind was not focused on him. Tonight, she looked at the colorful, gemlike fire lamps and saw herself as a kid, reaching for them to grab it; just like a little one did the same thing not far from them. Tonight, she noticed the rigid little stumbles she and Syon made, when they practised the required siblings dance — exactly like two little ones on the edge of the dancefloor. Tonight, the sweet-scented desserts on the tables have made her see herself nervously pulling on Father’s clothes to get his attention and let Syon convince him to buy them some. Just like the Shar-Dlin twins did, doe-eyes watching the desserts intently on the food table.

Tonight, Avelyn realized this Mid-Summer Festival wasn’t so much different after all. If only this epiphany could have filled the hollow that a home being out of reach has left.

“Shall we?” The voice of crackling fire asked, earning her attention.

Avelyn looked up to find her sister standing before her, one delicate hand extended forward. Her features bore the same calm confidence she used to see in her in their entire life. Yet, she could also see her shoulders slump in a way that others might have missed. But not Avelyn.

Not her.

Avelyn accepted the hand. It was a strange feeling really, her hand in Syon’s. Something she rarely experienced, even in their childhood.

She rose from her seat and was about to turn to Cronyl so she could inform him — or ask for reassurance of her decision. However, he was already walking past Syon’s back. One, metal-focused eye glanced at Avelyn and a slight nod made her feel gratefulness bloom in her chest. If someone, Cronyl knew way too well when to be on his way.

With that, Avelyn stayed alone with her sister. Syon held her hand carefully, but firmly, leading her onto the dance floor. Only then, did Avelyn notice how the gathering settled and slowed down. The fire still flickered and blazed at the centre, but there were very few people standing. The music died out, so the only melody came from the djanvaar’s gentle humming. Fluttering, playing starbugs conquered the dance floor, tiny explosions of their small stars lighting up even more. She wondered if the old tales had been right; that wild starbugs only did that if they were happy.

Syon stopped them in the middle, equally far from everyone and everything. She then turned to Avelyn and slid her hand over her waist. Such a strange feeling still. Avelyn did the same, noticing her movements being more rigid than relaxed. It wasn’t something she was used to. Yet she wanted to stay.

So she lifted her gaze to look into her sister’s eyes.

Bad idea.

They were staring at her as well, both of that unusual tinge she only saw on warriors. Syon never failed to seem intimidating or let her gaze be just a little less intense. That was one of the reasons why Avelyn never really locked eyes with her.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” She didn’t mean to speak, but she couldn’t stop herself either. “This festival. So strange. I mean, what they did with all these plants as decoration and the djaanvar as some kind of musicbox. It’s eccentric the least. Can you imagine what Mother would think?”

Children laughed in the background, their voices turning small but just as full of joy as before. Syon scoffed, yet a genuine half-curve painted her face softer instead of the humourless smile she always gifted people with.

“She’d be out of her mind. But she’d enjoy the dance, if Father would ask her for a round, that is,” she chuckled, and Avelyn needed to swallow back a surprised gaping. A similar giggle left her throat, as unintentional as unstoppable.

Their bare feet tapped the warm ground close beside each other, Syon’s presence ruling their dance. She guided Avelyn’s movements just like she did when they were small. Those lessons were one of the most challenging in their childhood. She remembered clearly because they were a spectacle back then, the peculiar siblings who were not easy to forget.

She felt a gentle push on her back, looking back into Syon’s eyes.

“Do you remember our dance lessons?”

Avelyn opened her mouth, then looked at her feet that almost stepped on Syon’s accidentally. Her feet avoided Avelyn’s as proficiently as always, smoothing out their performance the best she could. Yet, no force was in her anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Avelyn started, trying to lean back. Syon let her. “Clearly, I do.”

Another chuckle joined the humming of the djaanvar.

“You’re doing great, Lyn. Dance Master Liona would be proud. She’d even forgive all the headache we gave her.” They turned, the flames coming to Avelyn’s sight, outlining Syon’s form like blazing fireflies in the night. “She might never forget us.”

“Not much sibling pair made her nearly quit. We could thank Father’s soft-spoken charm that she stayed — that’s what Mother told me.”

The memory came alive in the fire’s flickers, Avelyn’s eyes following their little forms sway to one side and the other. Rigid hands touched, a gaping distance laying between their child flame-figure. Too much distance. “Closer!” and “Act like you’re siblings” faintly echoed in her ears.

She held Syon’s sparkling crimson eyes and found herself smiling with her.

Her body remembered the tension of those touches. Of being so close to the girl who shared the same blood with. Of fear, terrible fear from dancing with a sibling that was no more than a stranger.

“I’m so sorry, Lyn,” Syon whispered, yet it could be heard loud and clear. Confident. Genuine. Avelyn kept the scratching feeling in her throat at bay, forcing herself to keep looking at her sister. To keep listening to her. “I know I’ve been always farther away than I should have been. There is no excuse for that, though I had many. You tried to come close, yet I did not let you. I believed you chose the Temple only to pull yourself out of the noble betrothal misery. At some point, I believed you did it just to let every responsibility of our house fall on me, and me only.”

A feather touch weighed on Avelyn’s back, asking — begging to come a little closer.

She did so.

“I’m aware that was foolish,” Syon continued, voice softer than Mother’s night song. Softer than Avelyn had ever heard. “You might have had a shard of that reason, but I know you merely wanted to get away. From Mother, from Father… from me. You need connections, I realise that now. People to be close with, to be open with. You care so much, it’s frightening. Especially for someone like me. I felt threatened by you, I confess. I envied your ability to read people the way you did; with ease and compassion. And that made me bitter, because compassion I lack, even still…”

“No.” Avelyn’s voice was but a whisper, but nothing had sounded clearer. Syon smiled, her eyes misting the most subtle way. “You do not, sister. I was just as selfish, only more of a coward. You faced your duties and expectations with valiant grace. You had every right to…”

“Lyn.”

A delicate finger, tangled with Avelyn’s, swiped a single teardrop away from her cheek. So kind. So close. So tender. Hearing the kind little nickname Father gave her constantly rolling off of Syon’s lips made her own quiver. All the memories of the lonely girl practising dances in her room alone faded, longing for affection withering away. A glance, a joke, a smile. Everything her soul starved for from a sister out of reach. It twirled in the fire, slowly blending into smoke, and joining the cooling air around them.

Syon embraced her, when Avelyn dared leaning over her shoulder, cheek pressed in the crook of her neck.

“Let me have my regrets, and I let you have yours. Both of us learned and changed, all right? And oh how you did so. I regret how I pushed you away, how I abandoned you, but I am exceptionally proud of who you became, little sister. It was and still is all you. I can only hope you are to forgive me, so I can keep watching your path of becoming an incredible woman even further.”

Words crackled in her throat along with the fire’s flames, hands holding each other so close, that Avelyn found it hard to believe. A soft, silent hiccup left her lips when she felt a distant wetness on her shoulder.

“Not only me. I wanted to become like you, sister. Your memory gave me strength when I used up mine. Even if you couldn’t give me affection, you gave me strength. You gave me will and a role model. I regret not being able to stand beside you when we were little, but I am grateful for a bastion in need,” she breathed, losing herself in the swaying.

A throaty giggle made Syon’s chest resonate, making Avelyn smile along under her closed, drenched lashes. A bastion in need; Father’s attempt to be romantic with Mother. Their only humour source from their childhood.

Huddled beside the fire, Avelyn could still feel the chill that slowly settled onto the horizon, but she was not cold in the embrace of her sister. They stayed tangled, close as never before, until the fire began to flicker. Syon hummed with the djaanvar, yet not the same melody, but an old song they used to sleep to. Avelyn couldn’t help, but join, feeling a weight so profound crumble. She might have been a great distance away from home, yet she did not feel the absence anymore.

Not beside Syon, her sister.

[tryingtimi]

“ come to me, okay? whenever you need someone. “

@bloodlessheirbyjacques ✨

Painful Endings, Reluctant Beginnings

@bloodlessheirbyjacques and I had this lovely sprint session back in the last decade (kidding obv, I'm just slow with writing and could only finish it now) and we used Brave Enough to Love You by Lindsely Stirling and Christina Perri's beautiful song as a prompt. Listening on repeat, we've both created a scene for it, and so a little angsty, little hurt-comfort Cronlyn had been born from it on my side and an amazing, angsty Elistrea on Jaq's. I also mixed the vibe with this prompt to clear my drafts out as well hehe. Context: The team find out that the driadlin society's religion was a lie that the villain's side planted out back in the days, so they could lure the clueless driadlin into their traps without anyone finding out the truth. Avelyn was one of the loyal Pristess apprentices of their religion.

CRONYL AND AVELYN | ANGST | HURT/COMFORT | SLIGHT SELF-LOATHING | WC: 1,736

Veilnieve’s Priestesses could never take off their veils. The truth was so hidden in the world, they needed the purest sight to find even the tiniest pieces of it. It helped them. Their oats chained the veils to them.

Was the whole thing just a lie?

Avelyn felt the tiny bruise she made as her nails scratched across the soft skin of her thumb. A little blood appeared there as she glanced at it. She couldn’t bring herself to care about it, though. Not now, when she didn’t even know what to believe anymore.

“Here.”

A cloth was pushed into her vision, followed by his usual, even voice. Avelyn didn’t need to look at him to know, he didn't even turn to her while handing her the piece. He knew what she did without sparing her a glance, probably. Oh, Veilne…

Avelyn reached for the cloth so hurriedly, she ended up snapping the thing out of Cronyl’s hand. Great. She wasn’t even capable of controlling herself now.

Was this a punishment? Her punishment? She found and studied forbidden knowledge, after all. She may even have been responsible for dooming their world, wasn’t she? How could she care about a little blood on her fingers after all that?

She squeezed her eyes together for a moment, leaving the cloth to rest in her lap without using it. She breathed in deeply and allowed the air to slowly find its way out of her lungs. Her concentration sharpened with this, so she could focus on her surroundings for a short time.

The small room they were in, the wooden chair she was sitting on, the table beside her… Cronyl, leaning against it. His presence was ruling the place as always. He couldn’t hide there, even if he tried to. Even when she didn’t see him.

Strictness, seriousness, loneliness… tenderness, care, trust. She felt it all, as he soundlessly half-stood beside her. Her mind was full of grave thoughts and with every new one that found its place there, her heart only sank deeper.

And yet, she didn’t feel lonely.

She was lost; more than she had ever been in her entire life. But with a quiet companion, she didn’t feel lonely.

Avelyn opened her eyes, her thick, pearl-white veil blocking her view to be completely clear. She saw the world through the net of lies.

And how tiring it felt to do that now.

She wanted to reach for the string of her veil, but her hand wasn’t taking orders from her, not now, not anymore. It was something too deeply nested in her core to just get rid of it this easily.

So instead, she looked at Cronyl.

The man, who didn’t let her alone, when everyone else shared the thought of leaving her be. She didn’t want that, and Cronyl somehow knew this. How, she couldn’t tell.

He was watching the other side of the room, maybe inspecting something or he was as lost in his thoughts as Avelyn. He leaned at the table, so he didn’t need to support his whole body with his legs, hands beside him. He wasn’t staring at her. Avelyn saw all this, but only through a muted layer, so she couldn’t be sure about anything.

Only that, Cronyl still wore his half-broken glass on his forehead, one, still unharmed side pulled down at his red eye to keep it at bay.

Avelyn could have dragged her gaze off him, but she didn’t want to. Instead, she recalled their first meeting and all the things that happened since then. How much things have changed. How the hero to monster slowly grew in her eyes and turned into something beyond a hero. She realized Cronyl wasn’t a monster even if he bore one inside himself. He was closer to being a legend by not letting all that power rule him.

Admiration and something else stirred inside Avelyn’s chest. It was a feeling that made her blush, but she was also moderately aware of what it was exactly. She wasn’t enough for it, though.

She couldn't even deal with the weight of the recent events. She wasn’t brave enough to face her shadows, let alone love someone like Cronyl.

Her hands finally let her lift them and reach toward her ears. It wasn’t something she could rush, but something she forced herself to do anyway. When her fingers softly brushed her ears, she almost shivered. She knew if she took her veils off then, she wouldn't take them back. Ever.

The strings were in her hands.

How heavy some silk-like strings could have felt. She closed her eyes. Those ones that everyone said to be treacherous, but legendary. Those ones that made her lose her faith long before she knew the truth. A tiny, bitter smile found her lips.

Has she truly believed anyway?

With a deep breath, she let her fingers pull the strings off of her ears. If they had a grand weight when they were on her, without them, she felt even heavier. Heavy and weak…

Her heart skipped a beat.

A small, delicately decorated mirror caught her sight when she opened her eyes. It was so light, she didn’t even notice when it was placed on her lap.

Avelyn’s mind let all thoughts run free, her feelings exploding as strabugs would burst out their stars on a busy night. She carefully picked up the trinket, letting the veil hanging from one of her hands only. She felt her throat dry out and turn into a desert where all the water evaporated into the air. She gulped then and with a deep breath, she lifted the mirror to look into it.

Veilnieve’s devotees were not allowed to use mirrors. She hasn't seen herself for years now. The only reason she knew her eye color was the wrong one was that her apprentice friend and Priestess Rheata told her.

A mountain grew on her shoulder as she glanced at the reflection. A reflection of someone who had no round, but a delicately narrow nose. Of someone who had no rosy, puffy cheeks, only the soft lines of the face and jaws. There were no longer, curvy, smiling lips on the bottom, but more strict and strongly outlined ones. The hair was fine, long and so cared for as it framed this face. The face that bore those eyes; those golden eyes which about bards have sung songs of tales old as time itself.

Avelyn’s breath was shaking, when she realized who she faced wasn’t the innocent child that lived in her memories.

Who she faced was a woman with possession of something that shouldn’t have existed anymore.

A woman and a face she did not recognize.

The mountain only grew and buried her heart under a terrible weight as those foreign golden eyes became glossy from tears grieving a life lived through lies. A life that wasn’t even one in the first place. If nothing is real, then how could one call that a life anyway?

Avelyn wanted to close her eyes to stop her woe from running free on her cheeks; she couldn’t take off her gaze from the mirror, however. These trinkets showed the reflection of real things, they said.

They never told her it also revealed what is real at all.

She caressed the thick, beautifully carved frame of the mirror as one teardrop started its journey across her face. No more, only one. Finding out the truth finally meant her facing something she had no chance to, what she couldn’t.

Her weakness lasting so long deserved only one drop of sadness.

Heart sinking deep enough to never be found again, she placed the mirror down on the table beside her before she decided to look at Cronyl again. At him, who still faced the door, yet, she knew he was listening and watching. Waiting. Waiting for her to calm down, to begin processing what happened. For her to speak if she feels the need. A gentle smile crept upon her lips, as she somehow just knew, if she wouldn’t say a thing, Cronyl would still stand there until she would decide to silently leave the room.

Avelyn slowly rose from her seat, cloth slipping from her lap whilst she walked before him. She kept her distance to not disturb his privacy, yet she was close enough. His piercing metal-like gaze carefully wandered at her then, that one eye he was forced to leave free. Something he couldn’t hide, no matter how much he wanted to.

Carefully, with certain hands, she reached for his spectacles on his forehead. Not directly, but steadily to give him time to see what she’s going to do.

Cronyl visibly tensed up as he leaned back slightly, the same way a stray cat would draw back from a stranger who was trying to caress them. One of his hands seemed ready to stop her even. He didn’t raise them, however. The only thing he did was look into Avelyn’s eyes as intensely as ever and as if he found what he was looking for; he closed his eyes eventually.

A tiny, soothing wave washed over Avelyn’s deeply rooted loss when she finally touched the glass. She noticed his ears sharpen ever so slightly and heard the faint scratching sound of the table as his sharpened nails dug into it. He let her take off his glass nevertheless.

Revealing the scar on his eye made her sigh soundlessly, but it didn’t stop her from replacing the glass by binding her veil to his forehead.

A surprised expression spread out on Cronyl’s face, as Avelyn stepped back when she finished. He immediately raised his hand to touch the fabric, which she folded into a bandana. It was thicker now, so it could protect his eyes.

“Come to me, okay? Whenever you need someone,” she added quietly.

After a moment of standing in their content silence frozen in time, he pulled one side down at his scarred eye, then opened them up. There was no confusion, nor question in his stare. He only nodded.

“I will.”

[tryingtimi]

Like Veins

Wrote it a long time ago, but I'll post it just to get a glimpse of how Cronyl and Avelyn will work together with their different eye focuses. Also, of the possible buff they will find when they find the humans in Book 2 and 3.

Context: Izohr, the human MC shows Cronyl and Avelyn the powersuits people built a long time ago. Humans couldn't use it yet, so they try and succeed on figuring out how to make it work.

CRONYL AND AVELYN | IZOHR | BOOK 3 EXPLORATION | WC: 287

“The elders built it for us, but we can’t use it,” Izohr stated, gesturing towards the artifact.

Cronyl’s metal-focused eye sparkled ever so slightly as he looked at it.

“It’s full of some kind of tanks. Little thread-like holes are leading to them, it’s like a web inside the suit.”

“…Like veins”

Both men turned to Avelyn.

“What?”

“Based on your explanation, these threads connect the whole thing, which means, it was built like a human – or driadlin – body! The threads are the veins,” she explained, her excitement bubbling in her chest.

Izhor seemed lost in thought upon hearing this.

“’That… sounds strange, but possible.”

Of course, it could be possible. Cronyl, however, frowned a bit, his ever-skeptical expression spreading across his face.

“Okay, yeah. But then what are the tanks for?”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

She looked at the crawling golden mist that fled from Cronyl’s body and aimed at the ceiling. Luckily, he was exhausted enough to leak a ton of energy. Avelyn concentrated and made some gestures with her hands, inviting and then guiding the smoke-like energy to the suit.

“Where’s the entrance?” she asked, keeping her eyes on the mist. She was sure about Cronyl will understand who she speaks to. And, fortunately, he did.

“On the wrists, and the elbow… and the heel? Wait, it’s like…”

She pushed the mist into the suit by the wrist, which started to travel through the threads. She could see it clearly, even though the suit’s structure wasn’t visible to her. The energy spread and then concentrated in little tank-like shapes.

Then the artifact started to glow.

[tryingtimi]

66💕

His Tools

Land of All by Woodkid. The perfect one for another Urien scene from Darmons POV now.

Context: After the Turning of the Metalsea, Urien took over the capital and threw most people into prison. Darmon faced this fate too when they arrived back with Syon. She, however got capture by Urien, while Darmon eventually broke out. This is where Urien reveals his true nature and goals, close to the end of Book 2.

DARMON AND SYONEHLIA | BLOOD | VIOLANCE | WC: 655

It was dawn again.

The last time Darmon had seen anything but the dungeon’s walls, the Sun shone dimly over them and now, when he finally broke out of the prison, he’d been welcomed with the same pink-orange scenery. As if a day hadn’t gone by.

It was dawn again, but nothing was near the same as before.

Darmon carefully lifted himself with his crystal he was squatting on. The Eval palace’s hallway had been large enough to get lost in the heights of the ceiling. Slowly dying light brightened his pathway when he finally reached the prince’s room; its door yawning wide open before him.

“Look, Syonehlia.”

Darmon stopped for a moment. Prince Urien’s voice still made his muscles tighten whenever he heard it. The directness he was addressing Syonehlia only multiplied this rarely experienced feeling, however.

“Look out there, darling. Look at them,” he purred almost sweetly. His voice was not quite dripping from honey, but the thickness of venom.

Darmon set his jaw, and lifted himself, even more, blending into the darkness of the heights. Then, he carried himself inside the room.

It was vast, kingly with a large bed at one of the walls, baldachin hanging over it. And one end of the chain is attached to the wall.

The clinking links guided Darmon’s eyes to the balcony where Urien stood, facing the sitting Syonehlia and looking down at the captial. Darmon couldn’t see his face as the prince had his back to him, but he could see her. Heavy shackles hung upon Syonehlia’s ankles, her back straight, face stone cold. She still held her head high, piercing gaze not staring at the prince, but instead at the floor, however. Darmon gripped the crystal under him, his palm already heating up from the pressure. He never saw her like that.

And the tension only built in his muscles, when he realized her hands were free.

Urien suddenly grabbed Syonehlia’s face, forcefully turning it where he was looking at. Thin stream of blood trickled down her squashed cheeks when his sharpened nails dug into them.

“Look,” that bastard raised his voice, his ears sharpening as well. “What do you see, hm? Tell me.”

Rattling echoed through the room, as she steadied herself with her legs to not fall from the chair. She grabbed his hand, eyes flaming, nails clawing into his skin. Urien didn’t seem to care.

A crystal rose beside Darmon’s face, ready to aim and strike. His concentration didn’t falter, not even for a blink of an eye.

“Tell me,” Urien snarled, pulling her face farther outside.

Syonehlia visibly tensed up.

“People.”

So hoarse. Her voice sounded so painstakingly hoarse.

Pain struck from Darmon’s nails as he gripped his crystal even more, when Urien let her go by tossing her back at the chair. Darmon’s aim needed to be precise.

“People.” Half of the prince’s face revealed itself as he stared at her. He was sneering; mocking her. “Generous, are you? With those who need our guidance to live their life. Those that can execute only one thing in the shadow of perfection. Those who find one, single task to specialize at more than enough. People,” he scoffed. “Don’t you see, my darling? They’re no people. Not even close.”

He leaned closer, his smile widening at the side.

“I am the hand and they are my tools.”

One glance. Only one glance from Syonehlia should have been needed for Darmon to let his crystal loose. To let this madness end.

His crystals cracked ever so quietly under the force of his grip.

And so the dull grayness of early nightfall conquered the last ray of dying light, when instead of her, Darmon saw the prince’s piercing, pearl-white gaze jumping at him from the corner of his eyes.

[tryingtimi]

55

The One They See

While I’ll Be Good by Jaymes Young is never not gonna be a Darmon song it also helped me to basically continue this scene which is a possible ending for Book 2 as well. So thanks a lot my love! 💛

Context: Darmon and Syon saved the grand city of Evalon from Prince Urien's madness and the soulless creatures, called Vessels. The people see Darmon as a hero because of this, while he and Syon also recovers from the aftereffects of the last fight.

DARMON AND SYONEHLIA | SLIGHT ANGST | HOPEFUL | WC: 627

Metallic, bright shine laid upon Evalon, the remnants of the battle scattered around than gemstones after a thunderstorm.

Some Guard worked on setting up a tent over the table where fresh stew brewed. Dirty, ripped-up spots have been left behind on their uniforms where the patches of the Ivory Guard proudly boasted once. Citizens gathered around the food, lined up, waiting then sitting together patiently. Some children laughed in the distance, playing a local game.

Darmon squinted as one of them lifted a gem from the ground, the sunlight sparkling bright across its surface.

“You’ve taken care of them,” he offered the words. It was true. The citizens, the late Guards or Syonehlia’s patrols, maybe all together; whoever had done it, they dragged away the bodies of the Vessels and built them graves in Darmon’s little cemetery by the woods. New, finely engraved tombstones slumbered in the embrace of ever-blooming magnolia beds. Darmon realized only now; how barren his efforts had been.

Syonehlia leaned onto her arms at the edge of the balcony, right beside Darmon. Her shoulder’s touch warmed his own.

“We owed this to them. They deserved a proper goodbye to rest finally.” She followed an old figure under them. Her father’s chestnut beard hid his lips, but his eyes found the two of them over him. Darmon nodded as a greeting, keeping his head lower for a moment.

“Thank you.”

Listan Dione lingered in one place, staring at them before he mirrored the movement and turned away eventually.

Another group of children giggled a little too loud beside Listan. They whispered and pointed in Darmon’s direction, then, when his eyes unmistakably wandered at the group, one little girl shyly waved at them after a nudge, her little sharp ears sharpening even more.

“Hey,” Syonehlia nudged him too with her shoulder when he didn’t move. “It’s for you. Wave.”

He knew she was right. The children looked in their direction, but they seemed to focus on him the most.

Darmon couldn’t name the feeling that nested in his chest. A heavy, yet bearable weight as he did as he was told. His gauche gesture made the little driadlin’s blushing face lit up with a smile, another wave of whispering and giggling flying up with a gentle breeze from the others. They might have seen this as encouragement when they joined their friend. Their youthful lack of control blossomed on their sharpening ears and teeth that peaked out by their open-mouth smiles.

“They’re excited,” Darmon stated, his injury on his side aching as his shoulders slumped.

“They like you.”

His throat tightened upon hearing her words. All of those kids wore patched-up, tattered clothes, dirt glued to their skin. The parents set up tents beside ruined buildings all over the city, young adults helped clean out the debris from some shops, bickering with the elderly owners in the meantime. There were injured sitting or lying under the roof of a tavern’s remnants, yet they all talked, sang songs, and laughed.

Darmon leaned at his wooden crutch so he could glance at Syonehlia. At her slightly scarred face, at her whose love he accepted for now, at her who gave him warmth and a comforting presence by a tiny touch; at her who he almost lost during the happenings.

At her and them who he brought all this upon.

“I’ll do better,” he uttered. The words slipped out without his permission, yet he didn’t try to stop them. “I can’t change the past even if I long for it, but I can do better than before. I’ll… be that someone they see. For them, and for you. For the better.”

[tryingtimi]

All the pieces I’ve posted so far, in chronological order. Trigger warnings and moredetails in the posts. I will also extend this list as I share more stuff.

Canon

Painful Endings, Reluctant Beginnings | 1,736 ⥇ Avelyn finds out the truth about her religion which shatter something in her. Cronyl comforts her in his own way. A Home So Near, Yet So Far | 1787 ⥇ Avelyn and Syon are having a sister bonding at the Mid-Summer Festival in Yaran. His Tools | 655 ⥇ Urien finally reveals his true ideals and intentions. For Now | 1,708 ⥇ Darmon and Syonehlia share their first kiss. The One They See | 627 ⥇ Syonehlia and Darmon look over the saved city of Evalon as a possible book ending.

Non-Canon

Kiss Me Then | 964 ⥇ Avelyn and Cronyl unravel their affection when they’re finally by themselves. Kill The Flame | 1,754 ⥇ Darmon threatens Urien, before he snaps. Waiting Game | 1,764 ⥇ Cronyl teaches Avelyn how to ride a cougar. Tension-filled softness.

[tryingtimi]

Hiii for the Spotify drabbles….38!

Far From Any Road by The Handsome Family. It was a song and a character I wanted to explore a long time ago. This one is only a warm-up for how he acts at all, lol. So it's short and maybe a bit confusing. Thank you for the song nevertheless <;3.

CHARACTER EXPLORATION | BOOK II EXPLORATION | WC: 366

The leather holster audibly rubbed to the gun’s tip as Izohr moved beside the table. He gently dragged his gloved fingers over the metal bit’s surface, blunt crystal-coated tips faintly glowing under the touch. The metal chunk moved like foaming water wherever he caressed it, and it followed his hand. Guiding its form, Izohr pulled back softly, the material moulding into a curve no fire could have bent it into if it could have affected this one metal at all.

“Here you are, brother,” his sister, Evoria greeted him, walking through the workshop’s entrance. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“You could have asked anyone.”

Izohr joined his other hand, sliding to the behind of the slowly forming sphere. He pinched the tiny part that kept his creation and the rest of the metal piece together, separating them.

Her sister sat down. “They won’t tell me anything, you know that. I’m not the one they’re afraid of.”

A hum was his only answer. He rubbed the separated metal between his fingers like a mother pearl, forcing it to take its shape. Perfect, thick sphere turned in his hand, the crystals losing a bit of their glow. The surface did not wiggle anymore when Izohr dropped the bullet into the pile he already made.

“You could make me something nice next,” Evoria tried, watching him so intently, that her gaze scratched his skin, making him itch.

Izohr took out another metal bit with his hand without crystals. The familiar movements followed one another, shaping yet another bullet.

“Please, Izohr,” she said, but her voice did not beg. They carried the claws of reason that attempted to sink into the doors of his mind. “Please just listen to me. Why don’t you let people see the good in you? I know your intentions are coming from caution. I’m not comfortable with this state of revelation either. We don’t know this outside world at all. However, the elders are threatened by the amount of weapons you make, and that makes your efforts a problem. And frankly, I begin to grow concerned, too. What is happening to you, brother?"

[tryingtimi]

All the pieces I’ve posted so far, in chronological order. Trigger warnings and more details in the posts. I will also extend this list as I share more stuff.

By Books

Book 1: Turning Fates Book 2: The Lost Empire Book 3: Nohrinal's Legacy Book 4: Rise of The Onidael

Non-Canon

Fuck, Marry, Kill | 734 ⥇ A fun game night as a writing exercise.

Darmon's Interview | 776 ⥇ Fun little exercise to discover Darmon’s voice and get to know him better.

The Home She Brought | 1,330 ⥇ A cozy winter night and Cronyl’s confession ending with a mistletoe kiss. Holiday Special.

Scattered Confessions: Cronyl Eldenwer | 737 ⥇ Cronyl's random, unseen love letter to Avelyn.

Scattered Confessions: Avelyn Dione | 752 ⥇ Avelyn's random, unseen love letter to Cronyl.

Until It's Only Us | 1,136 ⥇ Avelyn and Cronyl's first time in bed. My first ever smut. It's soft as hell.

The Attraction of Quiet Violence: A Snip | 944 ⥇ Side Story snippet with Avelyn in the main POV Scribbles of The Soul: Missing You Terribly | 441 ⥇ A letter written by Avelyn to her mentor and grandmother figure, Priestess Rheata

Metalsea AU's

Eye for an Eye | 217 ( not finished yet, it's only a short pieces so far) ⥇ Darmon turning into a villain AU, instead of taking a redemptive path. Syonehlia is ready to fight him for what he had done.

Hitman's Mistake | 2,128 ⥇ A Modern Hitman AU, where Cronyl comes upon a painful decision of his relationship with Syonehlia. Personal favorite so far.

Chained to Him | 1,282 ⥇ A Modern Kingpin AU, where Urien gets information out of Cronyl amd Avelyn in some painful ways.

We Have Just Met and Yet It Feels Like I Known You for a Lifetime | 1,441 ⥇ Modern AU, where a troubled Cronyl finds comfort in the quiet bartender called Avelyn. Fluff in a nightclub. Part I of a standalone, basically.

Lost in The Lights | 820 ⥇ Modern AU, where Cronyl and Avelyn conitnue their night which ends in tragedy. Part II of a standalone.

Too Old For My Hometown | 1,513 ⥇ Modern AU, where Uncle Eldnar tells the tale of how Cronyl and Avelyn met.

[tryingtimi]

Kiss me then | Aka #FridayKiss Tag Game

Thank you for the tag @aninkwellofnectar! ❤️ This seemed like a fun game, so I'll join with a Cronyl and Avelyn first kiss scene, which I wrote quite a long time ago and I'm kind of cringing over it, but oh well. I have only this one and I insist on joining lol. Prepare for the softest, mushiest, victiorian-era couple vibes. I'm not exaggerating.

Rules are that you post a smooch between your OCs for Friday. It can be as light as a peck or intense as a makeout. It can be romantic or platonic or familial. As long as a smooch takes place it’s free reign! Tagging: @writingonesdreams, @bloodlessheirbyjacques, @jess-p-edits (I crave that Krieve x Jaisse moment), @aschlindartroom, @moonscribbler, @friendlyneighborhood-writer, @the-void-writes, @circa-specturgia and everyone who wants to join.

“Well, I’m not sure how to do this right.”

Avelyn thought she was used to Cronyl’s straightforwardness, but she could feel her blush appearing on her face. Her feelings were known and requited. They confessed. Yet, she had not thought through how things would continue on.

Cronyl clearly never had any romantic relationships in the past, however experienced he was in life in general. Even though Avelyn was sure he knew how to, well, do things in it. Still, this was the first time they were completely together since they officially became a couple and he only looked at her patiently with those intense, yet somehow soft eyes…

Oh, Veilnieve. He wants me to tell him specifics?

Avelyn let her feelings soften her gaze and a gentle, genuine smile find her lips.

“A hug is a good start, I think,” she said.

“Right.”

He nodded absent mindedly while he looked around. Searching for something? Avelyn felt confused washing over her as he took her hand, but she let herself be pulled over to the wall anyway. When only a small distance stayed between them and the wall, Cronyl stopped and turned to her. His eyes were piercing with their uniqueness as always, but now hesitance reflected in a ray of light that hit them.

“Could you sit down then?”

She cocked her head to the side. Is a hug not as simple as she thought? Nevertheless, she did as she was asked and sat down, back facing the wall.

Maybe he was frustrated because she didn’t move?

Cronyl walked behind her, so she couldn’t see what he was doing, but a second later two pulled up legs cornered her on each side. Two gentle arms followed them, embracing her carefully while Cronyl’s body pressed to her softly from behind.

Avelyn’s blush deepened into a rich crimson. So this is why he was reluctant. She didn’t understand his intention. Oh, well.

A chuckle bubbled up in her throat when she felt his chin resting on the top of her head. What a strange and still reserved way to hug her? By the sights, Cronyl felt like a different person entirely. She could never imagine him being this gentle with only a hug. She misunderstood him so very much, didn’t she?

Before he could have gotten the wrong idea, she rested her hands on his, caressing the skin softly and leaned more into the embrace. He held her a little tighter, arms interlocking on her stomach. So appropriate.

It felt unreal.

Avelyn imagined something like this, but never this intimate. This idyllic. This natural. She wanted to be closer to him, but there was no chance for that. She could already feel his heartbeat from his chest that pressed to her back. It was calm and content; just like her’s.

“This is nice.”

He pulled his legs higher and somehow Avelyn closer. She could feel him putting his head on her shoulder, the skin of their faces touching.

Avelyn hummed a response because that was the only thing she could squeeze out of herself. Her blush burnt into her cheeks as she realized she wanted more.

Cronyl obviously wanted to do everything at her pace, and that just made Avelyn fell harder. Her heart overflowed with such an intense love that she never imagined. He trusted her so deeply, he gave her the ultimate control over this.

No-one ever trusted her this much.

Silent minutes passed, when she felt him grow tense a bit for some reason she didn’t know. However, when she turned her head to face him, Cronyl hesitantly looked away.

“You told me before that, if I can’t tell, then show you how I feel…” He paused for a moment. “And I never did.”

She turned a little with her body, forcing him to separate his hands around her. It already felt wrong not to be fully embraced by him.

“You’re showing me now.”

She wanted to look into his eyes – those magnificent eyes –, but he did not lift his gaze at her yet. His face did not show embarrassment or nervousness. He seemed only someone who is deep in thought.

“I’m not sure I do. It’s an unspeakable feeling to hold you in my arms. Yet… Somehow what I feel for you is so much more.”

Avelyn was sure she would have cried already if she heard this months ago. Her chest felt full of a myriad of feathered winged butterflies, her mind carved this moment into her memory.

She knew now he felt the exact same as her. He told her.

Oh, how things changed in the matter of time?

“Kiss me then.” she breathed quitely, a tiny, gentle smile finding her lips.

Cronyl looked at her. Intense gaze never leaving her eyes again. His face loosened up, tenderness conquering his whole body. There was no hesitation anymore.

He leaned in, and Avelyn’s breath caught up in her throat while she did the same. When their lips met, everything just fell into place. Cronyl brought up a hand to place on her cheek, gently, lovingly. Their kiss wasn’t particularly short and as much as it was full of passion, Avelyn couldn’t hold back a little smile how reserved he was the whole time. Yes, it wasn’t a short kiss, but she felt it that way, even though she was a little out of breath when they parted.

As her eyelids opened, she could see Cronyl’s always serious eyes watching her. With a still strangely calm, yet full heart, she leaned in the touch of his hand.

And Cronyl smiled then. A tiny, half-smile, that showed everything.

[tryingtimi]

❝  before i met you,  i used to understand where i stood on everything.  now it’s all…mixed up.  ❞

👀👀👀

@bloodlessheirbyjacques ✨❤️

For Now

My love ✨❤️ Here's a juicy, heavy angst, because I can't write anything else. I also know the aesthetic board can indicate that they're gonna make out, but don't get your hopes up (for now). Also, you knew which couple is the only one that fits perfectly for this one, so here it is! Prompt from this list.

DARMON AND SYONEHLIA | HEAVY ANGST | MENTION OF DEATH AND SELF-LOATHING | WC: 1,708

Darmon floated. Black, lightless darkness surrounded him. His eyes blind, his ears deaf, his body feather light. Was he injured? Was he dead?

He wasn’t sure. But something was missing. Something that always stayed with him. Something he knew in his core, that was so familiar he didn’t know how to exist without it. Something terrible.

Screams. Shouts. Helpless cries. Mothers, fathers, children. People. Blood. Souls.

Taken. Ripped out. Butchered.

They found their way back to him. The horror of innocents, the trembling of the weak… No, no. They weren’t weak. Not in the least. They never bent, never broke; they were strong, stronger than Darmon ever was. Than he ever will be.

They were heroes, perished for nothing.

A familiar aching in the scattered ruins of a soul made Darmon realize — he wasn’t dead. Oh, no, he wasn’t. He couldn’t die with a burden this heavy. He’d been doomed to live.

He…

His body hurt. Eventually, the heaviness of a body came back to him. It was as if a mountain had grown on his chest, he couldn’t move. Even breathing seemed hard to manage.

He could feel a presence beside him, however. Slowly, with painful effort, he opened his eyes to see a clearly royal room’s intricately decorated ceiling. Ivory marble and silver lines stretched along the walls. It was a place he did not recognise, so his gaze stumbled towards the only figure he knew.

Syonehlia was reading a sheet of paper right beside him, so focused she did not notice Darmon’s awakening. Her clothes seemed fresh, hair brushed, freely flowing onto her shoulders, and not counting the bruises on her face that made Darmon grimace, she did not seem tired or ragged. He closed his eyes for a second, letting the worry towards her easing up in his chest.

When he opened his eyes again, he decided not to disturb her, so he quietly checked on his body functions. He attempted to move his right leg. Nothing. Then his left. Nothing. All the following attempts resulted in the same failure with his toes and arms. Slightly flustered, he looked towards his fingers and concentrated.

They moved.

Great. Continue. Darmon tried to lift his head up, but as soon as it moved, a deep groan burst out from the depth of his throat. Heaviness and pain pushed him back into the pillow.

And it caught Syonehlia’s attention immediately. She quickly dropped the paper beside her, one hand finding Darmon’s, the other carefully keeping his shoulder down on the bed.

“Easy,” she said softly. “You’ve been unconscious for more than a week, so your body won’t thank you if you try to move just now.”

A touch. Darmon did not feel another person’s touch so, so long, he completely forgot how warm it can be. How comforting. How… undeserved. Nearly as much as the tender care in Syonehlia’s eyes.

“The… Vessels…”

He could finally utter some words in a sickly hoarse, low voice. His throat felt dry and it burned, he needed all his strength not to choke up on violent coughing.

Syonehlia scooted closer, still keeping her hand on his.

“Gone. You made sure of that. Everyone’s safe now. We put Urien into prison and worked on restoring the city order. We formed a temporary council to help people reorient, but we still couldn’t decide on the next leader yet. The priests and priestesses opposed my suggestion of letting all the citizens vote for the new ruler, but father and some former nobles supported it. So it’s still under debate. Either way, things are getting better, people are calming down.” She reached over his forehead and took off a wet cloth Darmon did not even notice before. He might have had a fever.

Hearing about the situation sent a grotesque mix of relief and regret into his heart. All the life he took before, he took it again to let these people live. Different cause, same results. The screams and shouts became louder in his ears, nearly reaching the point he used to.

He slowly turned his head to see Syonehlia better.

“Am I… wounded?”

“The doctor found some bruises and cuts, but other than that, not really. However, you apparently collected and used up more power than your body could bear. Some kind of miracle saved you. You almost died, Strotagor. But you’re fine now.” The corner of her lips twitched, then she brushed a lock of his hair out of his face. “Well, almost. Your crystal’s cracked.”

Every touch made him shiver. So unfamiliar. He felt his strength steadily creep back, his pain not piercing as much anymore. He could lift his hand to touch his eye-crystal as if he cared.

Which he didn’t, actually.

He only wanted to see Syonehlia’s eyes follow his motion. They changed. The lilac base deepened into a rich purple, while the red ring around her pupil turned from coral to almost crimson.

His eyes did not see beauty in this world before. He could gaze into the lands, at the people and he saw bizarre wrongness, aberration even. Yet, now, he just stared at Syonehlia; her platinum locks, her longer, sharp-edged ears, her high cheeks and into those purple-red eyes. At her confident face, her calm thoughtfulness, her strict tenderness.

His weary eyes looked at her and the only thing they saw was beauty and pure rightness. Something he noticed too late, when he could no longer earn to revere it. The cries wouldn’t let him, for a reason Darmon sincerely understood and agreed on.

“How are the others?” He needed to rip himself out of the daze he fell in. Perhaps he was still feverish.

Syonehlia let a smile find her lips.

“Good. The crew replaced the Ivory Guard. They patrol in the city until people get used to the new situation. Eldnar took every morning shift with Drehana to smooth out any small disturbance, and because they usually like to switch each other at night beside your bed. Eldnar complains a lot about being friends with a bastard who couldn’t even get himself together in a day after his big speech on how powerful his crystals are. But I every time needed to drag him out of your bed in the morning to take his place. He always fell asleep talking to you.”

Friends. Care. Love.

Darmon was well aware of what he felt right now. He knew why he would have sacrificed his life. He knew he would do it again. And he knew he did not want them to be thankful for that. It wasn’t something cherishable, it was something he needed to do. He was expandable. He should have died.

He should have been dead a long time ago.

Still, he stayed alive. Then received such fondness, he could feel his pain turning into a bearable inconvenience. It did not ease or fade, it only became less in focus. Confusion and unknown warmness lurked under his skin. He wronged these people. Yet, they cared for him. As much as he learned to care for them. It was unrealistic, madness even.

Especially as he recognised the undisturbed calmness on Syonehlia’s face, while she reached for a glass of water on the desk beside the bed.

“You weren’t worried,” he stated. There was something very intimate in this one sentence.

“No, of course not. You wouldn’t let yourself die as a hero and find peace in the grace of mercy,” she leaned closer, lips curving into a half, humorless smile. “You’re too stubborn for that.”

He felt a similar smile tugging on his lips. Strange, otherworldly. When has he smiled the last time? He couldn’t remember. There was no reason to do that. But here he was, letting Syonehlia help him to sit up to drink through clenched teeth. The pain was there, it just did not matter.

When he finished drinking, he put the glass away and stayed sitting however much his back wanted to pull him back into bed.

He couldn’t tear away his gaze from Syonehlia’s through the whole time. She was sitting directly beside him, her waist softly pushed into his side. She held his eyes the same way.

“I know what you’re thinking, Strotagor. It’s written on your face, very clearly. And you’re right. You shouldn’t have used that power again. But, without you using the crystals, Evalon would have been destroyed. Completely. With every person in it. The Vessels would be still wandering around, not letting their bodies rest and give them the respect they deserve. You have taken away lives before, yet, this time, you chose to save them instead. You were a hero for those people out there. You did good, as you did change. Maybe you couldn’t win salvation, but you’ve taken a very important step towards it. Probably the most important one. Therefore, you should let yourself feel relieved, at least for a bit.”

The screams wanted to crawl out, being louder than ever. They already scratched the edge of the pit of Darmon’s mind. Then, suddenly, their screeching became more quiet.

She made them quiet. She, who could make his solid guilt tremble and unstable. Who could make him wish again; wish he could be better. She, who could awaken things inside him he thought to be long forgotten.

Caring, wishing, longing.

He lifted his hand up, so he could carefully touch her face for the first time.

“Before I met you, I used to knew where I stood with everything. Now it’s all… mixed up,” he uttered, voice still low. He sighed, when she leaned into his touch and smiled at him.

“Well, it must be confusing to fight beside us.”

“I’m not talking about that.” He slowly caressed her skin, revering every inch of it.

With a deep humming of acknowledgement, and a loving sparkle in her eyes, Syonehlia lingered in one place for a second before she leaned forward until her lips met his. All the confusing chaos rushed through Darmon when her hand found its place on his neck, tangled in his hair.

Her kiss felt unknown, soft, but not tender. It was a kiss of someone who can make you do better, who loved passionately. A kiss Darmon did not deserve.

Yet, he let himself accept it for now.