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hornsandthings · 4 years ago

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Umm hi I don’t know if you still take ACOTAR requests anymore but if you do can I request an azriel x reader where he’s in love with her and is afraid of rejection but he doesn’t know that she loves him too? 👉🏻👈🏻

hi nonnie, i’ll always accept an acotar request, hehe! did this in headcanon form, hope you don’t mind <3 it’s quite long and a little rough around the edges, but i hope you like it! ps. tumblr mucked up the formatting, some dot points don’t want to be indented. i hope it still makes sense x

when your and azriel’s paths crossed, it was the mother at work again. after mor, azriel didn’t think he’d ever have the strength for love again. the aching and the pining had taken their toll, and the appeal of the mating bond had faded. to feel it all again, to risk his heart like that again - he couldn’t. and yet, the mother saw fit that he would.

+++

he first met you in the palace of hoof and leaf, and it didn’t mean anything at the time; a stranger’s kindness, or if he indulged his cynicism, a hawker’s ploy. you were a commoner, a milkmaid who came to sell your products in the markets. he’d been at the neighbouring stall, waiting for the clerk to put together the only tea brew in prythian that could placate his migraines.

“sir, mr. shadowsinger, sir,” you called, “could i offer you a sample of my goat’s milk? maggie-may is very special, her milk can be just as good as a healer’s work, i swear it. try it, try it, sir.”

azriel looked you over, glad that cassian wasn’t here to make that particular moniker stick. one brow raised in dubiety, he nodded and held out his hand - might as well, he thought, tired and getting ever more desperate for his tea. this didn’t show outwardly, of course; azriel’s face was as neutral as ever, his shadows coiling about his talons. your gaze was expectant as he tried the sample, and while it was a little too earthy for his taste, he nodded all the same. perhaps it had encouraged you too much, because then you asked: “could i perhaps persuade you to buy a pint?”

azriel had no interest at all, yet he couldn’t help but notice the detail: your fraying sleeves, the imperfect glass bottles, the beginnings of dark circles under your eyes. and yet you were smiling, you were sweet, being very generous for someone who had to presumably make a living selling fresh products. not for the first time, azriel made a purchase that only someone of the inner circle could afford, and one that didn’t really benefit him. “i’ll take several,” he said, looking at the handful of wooden caddies, mostly still filled with milk bottles. “i’ll take it all.”

the clerk then handed azriel his brew while you stood there, wide-eyed and speechless, working through a range of emotions. at first you thought he was mocking you, but when he turned around again, fiddling with his coin pouch, you realised he was serious. “but, sir— maggie-may’s milk sure is delicious, but only in moderation— i couldn’t expect someone to buy it all—”

“as much as you’d let me, then,” he amended, being mindful not to impose or patronise. you bit your lip, trying to tally up the ultimate price, trying to gauge whether this man could even afford it. two gold, you said, trying your luck. azriel merely fingered his coins, placing the expected two and an additional three on the counter. he must’ve noticed your shock; you had frozen, after all, perhaps even stopped breathing. “since maggie-may is so special,” he drawled, earning a disbelieving laugh from you.

that night, cerridwen, nuala, and elain were very confused at the sight of bottles and bottles of milk laying in wait on the kitchen counter in the house of wind. the note - clearly by azriel’s neat hand - read: use within five days.

+++

from then on, you always engaged azriel when you spotted him in the market. you could never forget his generous first purchase, and so while he waited for the tea master to finalise his special brew, you would entertain him with an endless supply of free samples of new products. over the years, azriel saw your business extend from milk to also include cheese and soap. he learned unnecessary things about your cattle, such as the supposed social dynamics and - mother forbid - adultery that mr. sweet pea the goat seemed prone to. over time, azriel grew comfortable enough to share some of his stories and observations, the things he’s seen in other courts. it took a while to realise you had become more than his mere acquaintance, and perhaps it was because you were outside his usual spheres of the inner circle and his spy network. to have someone outside was new, and a little jarring at times. the different experiences, the contrasting perspectives - it was refreshing, and reminded azriel how far he’d come since his miserable youth. when he was with you, the stakes weren’t so high, the conditions not so dire. you were a spot of calm, a reminder that life could be something other than the court’s defense.

+++

one time when he visited - his tea no longer a requisite for him to make an effort to come in - you were noticeably subdued. “mr. sweet pea passed away,” you revealed, eyes wet and voice thick. something about that seized his heart, his shadows growing restless. “he was so special.” you actually said that about each of your cattle, something that azriel had started to find endearing, because he knew you really believed it.

social tact was not a strength of his - azriel knew he tended to be rigid and too formal - so he stumbled over some stilted condolences. it felt awkward and impersonal; azriel couldn’t empathise with the death of a pet, but he wanted to make it hurt less. he still remembered what the late goat had looked like the last time you had brought him in - an old thing, with a long beard and a mix of brown and black fur. strong, impressive horns, one which had a sizeable chip missing.

so that night, he did what he could and sketched that image he had in his mind, of mr. sweet pea looking very wise and ponderous, if a little tired. azriel’s time as spymaster had bestowed him a keen eye and dexterous fingers, allowing him to make the necessary sketches to give his colleagues a clearer picture when necessary - of maps, of creatures, of profiles. they tended to be a little rough and raw, nothing particularly artistic. he thought the same of his current piece, and hesitated over whether it was good enough.

when he finally gave you the sketch the next day, you went very still. he started stumbling over some excuses, but you soon interrupted him with a shaky breath. “this is so thoughtful, azriel. thank you so much.”

+++

azriel grew bolder, and interactions started to occur outside the markets. he’d invite you for tea, indirectly revealing one of his interests. he was a hard man to read, his expressions subtle when not stoic, but you learned. outside of professional matters, he was rarely straightforward, and tended to express his emotions in delicate, layered ways. his care for you was in the way he listened, how his attention never wavered when you were speaking with him. it was how he kept you close when you two navigated busy streets, how he lifted a wing over your head for cover when it rained, how he was content to spend time with you at your stall - sometimes for hours - despite his preference for quietude.

+++

when work took him away, you two would exchange letters. azriel didn’t realise how dangerous a thing it was, because you quickly became a very intimate and constant part of his life. the act of writing tricked him, making it easier to truly express his thoughts - there was no pressure of navigating the immediate reaction, no incentive to keep his words short. you managed to draw so much out of him. he was mindful of each letter of yours he received, keeping them safe and tied together with an old ribbon of yours he’d saved before you could throw it away. he would never admit it, but work abroad tended to be overwhelming: while secure in his network’s quality of intelligence, being in another’s territory always meant having to deal with various variables and vulnerabilities, usually unknown. maybe your letters would have made it all a little more manageable if they didn’t elicit such longing within him. your words made him smile, yes, but they also made his heart ache. he missed you.

+++

after a lengthy assignment in the dawn court, azriel was relieved to be back in velaris. his shadows swirled and whispered around his shoulders, eager to feel your presence too. he knew they fascinated you, how playful they could be sometimes. yet, azriel couldn’t find you at your empty market stall. it was odd - you hadn’t mentioned moving in your recent letters, and he couldn’t find you in any of the other market squares either. soon his shadows grew restless, embodying the concern that was rising.

he employed his spy network to find your farm, hoping it wouldn’t be too intrusive to just show up unannounced. you had mentioned some details in passing before - it was a modest place, with a small house and a meagre hill of grass to feed a handful of goats and sheep. the door was answered by two worried faces, who took one look at azriel and grew even more distressed. “our son— it’s not our son, is it? it can’t be— he just—”

“i’m here to see your daughter,” azriel interrupted, too preoccupied to remember polite niceties. they were confused, guarded, but let him through. the hallways were narrow, his wings often knocking against the wall sconces. he listened as they explained your condition - an illness had befallen you, leaving you bedridden for days. apparently a healer had told them it’ll pass with rest and water, and with that reassurance, azriel forced himself to remember his place. right in front of your closed door, he willed his shadows away from his face, called upon his familiar impassiveness. turning around to face your parents, he amended, “may i see your daughter?”

your room was dark, the curtains drawn. his heart raced as he heard your laboured breaths, and something pulled at him when he saw the small desk in the corner, an unfinished letter atop it. “azriel?” you whispered, voice sounding so small. “is it really you?”

he neared, taking a cautious seat on the side of the bed. you were shivering, but the thin sheet covering you stuck to your skin with sweat. “yes, it’s me, sweetheart,” he said, the endearment slipping out before he could stop it. his throat closed up immediately after, but your vague movements suggested you didn’t even realise, and that you weren’t all there. he could see the feverish blush high on your cheeks, even in the dim light.

“you’re too big for this room,” you mused softly, making azriel smile despite his worry. indeed, he had to bend down to avoid hitting his head, and keep his wings tucked in uncomfortably tight. he took your hand in his, and even in your feverish haze, you could register the roughness of his scarred hands, but they always handled you gently. “why didn’t you tell me in your letters?” he asked, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. your discomfort was clear in your frown, in your downturned lips. noticing the basin on the bedside table, he took the damp rag on your forehead and dipped it into the cool water, wringing away the excess before gently placing it atop your head again.

“i… didn’t want to trouble you with… with something trivial. a few more days and… and i’ll be back to work.” a weak smile pulled at your mouth, and azriel gathered both of your hands in his again. he shook his head at your line of thinking.

“your health isn’t a trivial matter to me,” he said, leaning close and cupping your cheek. in hindsight, it was so obvious that he had been in love with you far longer than he thought. it was all so rueful, the fact that he had let it happen again. despite it all, he pressed a kiss to your hand, trying to ignore how it trembled. your smile strengthened then, tracing a finger over his brow and down the bridge of his nose. azriel took a deep breath to savour the touch, and soon you two were merely watching each other, azriel wondering what thoughts were running through your slightly added mind. your lids eventually started to droop, however, but still he stayed even when you fell asleep, taking care to change the cool rag when necessary. his shoulders slumped when his head fell into his hands, squeezing his eyes shut tight. with such a revelation, what was he to do from now on?

+++

azriel didn’t think he could be a good lover to you - even if he so very much wanted to be. his job took up so much of time, and it required him to be secretive. azriel wouldn’t ever be able to share everything with you, for the sake of keeping you safe. even if he could, there was just something in his nature that kept him reserved and pushed others away. there were so many things he’d rather leave in the past, and so many more that he wished he hadn’t been part of. there was that, but also his loathsome scarred hands - a reminder of those darker days. no matter how gentle, his touch would always scratch and scrape. once you took notice of how neglected they were, left to dry out and sometimes even scab, you took to work to concoct a nourishing lotion. “you have to be gentle with yourself, azriel,” you had once told him, gently applying the salve to his hands. they were rough but warm against your skin. “you do so much.”

+++

and so, everything he did with you was tinged with a hint of sorrow. he couldn’t bring himself to confront you with the severity of his feelings, but he also couldn’t quite remove you from his life - you had become a friend. you eventually noticed that he started to let his touches linger: when he hugged you, he’d curl arms and wings around you, enveloping you wholly; when you were near, his shadows would stretch toward you, as if revealing a hidden desire. when you reached for his hand, he would always grip it firmly, and when you came very close for some unimportant reason, his gaze would always linger on your face, flicking so often to your lips.

+++

one night you had invited him over to the farm, wanting to introduce him to the latest addition of your household: a baby goat, just over a week old. she was as white as snow, and kept nibbling at your hair as you held her in your arms. “what should we name her, azriel?” you had asked, too preoccupied to notice how tense he was, hands in his pockets. “i was thinking of marjorie, or maybe miss marjorie… hey, what’s wrong?” his face was unusually expressive, his shadows roiling about his talons as if in distress. putting down the goat, her legs still clumsy and gangly, you stepped closer to azriel, reaching out. he shook his head, trying to school his face but you knew him by now. your shoulders slumped, recalling his strange behaviour over the years - he was present in most ways, but avoidant in others. “i wish you’d talk to me, azriel,” you murmured, taking his hand and hoping he wouldn’t mind the dirt. “you mean so much to me.”

it all bubbled up then in that small barn, the light dim and the smell of earth pungent. you let out a rueful laugh, rubbing your eye. “i’m in love with you,” you said, very quietly at first. immediately you felt so naive to be doing this. the fact was that azriel came from a different life, one that saw him as a leader of the court, who worked with powerful and beautiful people, fae who were richer and stronger and vastly more interesting. azriel’s mere presence in your life was extraordinary enough. and yet, you had found yourself falling in love despite the impracticability of it, found yourself admiring his kindness, his quiet generosity, his strength and resilience and dry humour. you shifted, looking right into his eyes. even if your love was unrequited, he deserved to be told - if only to let him know that he indeed was loved by one more. “i’m in love with you. i don’t— i don’t expect you to say it in return, but i can no longer keep it to myself. i love you.”

that threw azriel. he had fantasised of course, indulged in the scenario. but now, as you waited for his response, his thoughts stuttered. what? he wanted to say, unable to believe what he actually so very desperately wanted to believe. you grew nervous as the silence lengthened, azriel’s face as stoic as ever. you shook your head, covering your mouth in regret. “i’m sorry, i— i shouldn’t have said anything—”

he gripped your shoulders tight, gaze intense and voice low. “i also love you.”

“why do you say it like it’s a bad thing?” the solemnity which had tinged your relationship for some time was subtle, but you had felt it, and it had bothered you.

azriel’s hands came up to cup your face, and he quickly shook his head. “it’s not,” he said, he urged. “it’s not, it’s not.” and then his lips met yours, chapped and rough, kissing you slowly, thoroughly, firmly. the conviction made your heart melt, and you gripped his wrists, feeling his racing pulse and caressing it, kissing him back, standing on your toes, letting him steal your breath. “i love you so much, sweetheart,” he sighed against your lips, nose brushing against yours. you went to reply but then azriel had claimed your mouth again, one hand snaking around to your back and the other to the nape of your neck. the light shifted behind your closed eyes as his wings came down to envelope the both of you, and your fingers reached to tangle in his hair, to trace the shells of his ears.

when you two parted again, his grin was lopsided and a little wry. “i just couldn’t believe it,” he murmured, his eyes shining with emotion. why not? you wanted to ask, wondering what it was that had held him back for so long, but decided to delay it for another day. all you could do was hug him tighter, just glad for the sight of his smile and the feeling of his relief. glad for his happiness.

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar imagine #acotar fanfic #ugh this isn't my best but otherwise i'll never post D:#also a big f.u. to tumblr formatting

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windupnamazu · 3 years ago

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and remember me, sweet bravery

ffxivwrite2021 #8: adroit

⮞ kotone & kanon, with multiple mentions of blackestnight's hagane family. 1415 words. ⮞ set in stormblood, pre-azim steppe arc ⮞ kotone comes home, but does she really?

adroit: clever or skillful in using the hands or mind.

It was strange, coming home after three years gone and finding that everything was as Kotone left it but so achingly different. Stranger still how foreign Yanxia felt when it was all she'd known for the first eighteen summers of her life, how something echoed emptily in her chest when she caught gold and bronze in the corner of her eye around the House only to turn and H'lios wasn't there. Silly. Stupid. She doubted her cousin was this weak—but then again, how well did she actually know Hanami? Did she know what it was like to yearn for a land that wasn't even hers and for a boy whose duty lay thousands of malms in the opposite direction of her own? It didn't seem like the kind of topic to bring up over lunch, not with a cousin who she always felt held her so close but at more than an arm's length away.

The House of the Fierce was quiet when Kotone emerged from its tunnels in deep thought over her family, the Yanxian fog curling protectively against the rocky spires that jutted from the earth and the singing of the nightingales poignantly absent, their song leaving a quiet that was extraordinarily loud. Nearly on the points of her feet, she tread through the tall grass so quietly that her heartbeat was ringing in her horns. She'd never be sneaky enough to fall completely off the radar of the woman ahead, not even with Maki-obasan's ninja tips that were utterly lost on her own children, but as she charted her course she could at least steer clear of the tigers that prowled through the wilds.

Still, at the sound of Kotone's tail brushing past a sprig of horsetail—or maybe it was her quiet stumble in her gifted zori, which she wasn't at all used to—Mother turned.

Naeuri no Kanon was a fighter. She had to be, as a daughter of the prestigious Yumishi clan, whose code of loyalty to the Rijin family demanded it. But many years ago she put down her weapon and gave up her name—a rarity for the matrilineal Raen women, but something she had done with full dedication to joining the house of her husband and his mother. Naeuri no Kanon did not want to raise her children as warriors, weighing them with a vow they could not possibly understand from birth and ensuring there would be blood on their hands sooner or later. Naeuri no Kanon was a fighter, but she should not have to be, not when she opted for peace in the fields of their farm rather than a lifetime of samurai honor. She should not be wearing the green of Doma's resistance rather than the green of the bamboo glade by their home.

But here she was. But here was Kotone.

"Mother," Kotone whispered, and then, bolder—"Okasan!"

"Kotone?" Mother was not someone easy to surprise, but her shock was clear in the rigidness of her spine until Kotone found the courage to rush into her arms. She was every bit as Kotone remembered her, smelling of kinmokusei and jasmine, thin like a whisper of mountain wind but stronger than its peaks. Though three years had come and gone since they were last together, the rub of their horns together made her feel so very small again.

Mother cupped Kotone's face in her hands, pulling back to look over her. "My little nightingale," she said wondrously, ashen eyes wide and soft, "What are you doing here? Where is your sister?"

"Honoka is in Eorzea," Kotone said. "She is safe." As safe as she could be, at any rate, with an imperial castrum a stone's throw away and beneath the gloom that seemed to permanently hang over Mor Dhona. Its overabundant aether harried them during their first months in the Toll—Honoka got sick almost immediately after she climbed off the chocobo carriage and Hanami had looked so, so stricken as she carried her into the Rising Stones on her back, just like she had when they were little girls rolling in the rice paddies until they were exhausted and weighed down with mud.

"Eorzea," repeated Mother, testing the weight of the word. "Then you came back with Lady Yugiri. I heard word that she was spotted three moons ago, accompanied by foreigners and Lord Gosetsu."

Kotone nodded. "Hanami-san came too." Willingly, she hoped, even if her cousin's expression grew stranger every time Lady Yugiri mentioned finding Lord Hien and she'd spent this long away from home. Had she ever wanted to come back, actually? She never even told her and Honoka why she left—never said goodbye.

"You found Hana-chan," Mother sighed. "Thank the kami. Do Haruki-kun and Mune-chan know?"

Of course they did, and she told her so. They hadn't taken more than three steps into the House of the Fierce before being set upon by two Raen boys, one of which was much, much taller than his son. It'd been Haruki who told her that her mother had joined the Liberation Front as well, that she was the only other member of their family who had escaped the same chaos that put Kotone and Honoka on that boat three years back. Kotone was glad for that much—if Haruki could not have either of his mothers, then her own would watch over him for them.

(She did not know what to do with herself when she thought of the ones who were not so lucky—her father, her grandmother, Maki-obasan and Shomi-obasan, and the rest of her cousins. She did not know if she could make anything of it, if she could shape her guilt over abandoning them into anything beyond its cowardice.)

"Kotone," Mother said, and she got the sense that Mother did not know where to place her grief either. "You should not be here." I will not lose anyone else, she did not say. "I know why you returned with Lady Yugiri, but please—you need to return to your sister. To Eorzea."

"I have grown, okasan," Kotone insisted, and not just because Honoka would have her head if she found out that Kotone had found their mother and did not bring her back on top of abandoning the very cause she left her behind in Mor Dhona for. "I am neither the blind nor sheltered girl I was when I fled Yanxia."

Mother was silent. Her tail was lashed tightly around her leg, her own way of biting her tongue, as she looked at Kotone's hands. Looked at them like she was really seeing them and all the callouses and scars Kotone had picked up in three missing years, scars that matched the chips of her yumi. A yumi that wasn't the one she left with, replaced by a half dozen similar ones to match the pace she pushed her limits, looking for her own way to help her home.

"The bell," Mother said finally, with a tired resolve to it. "Do you remember?"

Instinctively searching for it on the stone pillars, Kotone nodded. "It hasn't been that long."

There it was, clinging to the thick of the fog, higher than she'd ever dare to climb. They used to hunt in these parts before, but Kotone was forbidden from going on her own until she could hit that very bell with her own bow and arrow. She never did manage to ring it before word of Eorzea's triumph over the Garleans had reached their shores and Yanxia burned in the waves of uprising that followed—her hands were softer back then, unskilled and fumbling over her quiver and bowstring. Maybe it was pure coincidence that this was the exact spot they took breaks on their route back in the day. Maybe it was not.

Kotone reached for her yumi, drawing an arrow with it.

The landscape of her homeland, battered by the imperial yoke and twisted into a shadow of the shadow of what it used to be, was unfamiliar. But the Yanxian wind that rushed around the stone pillars and wove between each strand of her hair and playfully bit at the exposed skin of her back wasn't, nor her mother's guiding presence at her back. The Yanxia that was home to her was the one with her family within it, and now that she was here she would not stop until she saw it again. Doma would be free by both of their hands.

Eyes wide open, Kotone let her arrow fly free.

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2021 #tales from the warriors of light #oc: kotone #kanon naeuri

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queenmuzz · 4 years ago

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Mors aurem vellens, 'Vivite,' ait, 'venio'

You are a young woman, fated to an early grave, divinely sent to become the Priestess of the least popular God of the Pantheon. Vergil, the God of Death.

Chapter One:

Your worn sandals hit the wooden gangplank as you disembarked along with the rest of the passengers, pausing for a brief moment to look at the splendor of the Island of Fortuna. Unfortunately you weren’t the only one eager to make landfall, and your moment of awe was cut short, as the other passengers, mostly pilgrims, pushed behind you, each wishing to experience that same feeling of wonder.

Fortuna… a glistening jewel of an island, a bustling hub of commerce, both of material goods, and immaterial ones. Where most large cities could boast maybe one, or two Temples at most, (the closest city near your village worshiped the Nameless Lady, Goddess of Revenge), Fortuna had the prestige of four separate temples, hence the large numbers of people coming to the city every day on pilgrimage.

The entranceway that the docks funneled pilgrims to was awe-insipring, beautiful white marble walls, with statues of each of the four gods.

Kyrie.... Goddess of Love, and of Song. Many would pray to her to find their soulmate, or to sway the heart of their desired one.

Her consort, Nero … God of Protection, and of the Outcasts. One might pray to him when going on a dangerous journey, and orphans and beggars would pray for his protection.

Sparda …. God of Justice. Those who sought justice in the courts, both civil and criminal, often prayed to him.

And finally, the one you had travelled months for, spent nearly all of your money on, was his wife, Eva … Goddess of Childbirth….and Healing. You marveled at her beautiful lifelike statue that stood there, overlooking the bay, carrying the infant twins Dante, (God of Victory in Battle, and also of Debauchery, his temple lay far to the west), and Vergil (God of Death, his temple was...unknown, as he was not a very popular god to worship.)

Your journey was coming to an end. You would soon be able to make your plea to the Goddess, to plead with her priests and priestesses to aid you. You were running out of time.

Three months ago, you had gone to an oracle of the Goddess of Time and Space, to see what your future would hold, and to find out why you had a persistent cough. The words he spoke chilled you to the bone.

“In two years time, Death will claim you.”

Keep reading, or click HERE to read on Ao3!

Suddenly, everything made sense. Your periods of lightheadedness, your cough, and how simple tasks would now occasionally leave you out of breath. Already, your family was beginning to act as if you were dead, your father and mother occasionally breaking out in tears when they saw you. In an instant, your entire life’s priorities had changed. Instead of looking forward to marrying a young man in the next village, inheriting your parents; farm, and raising a family, all now you could look forward to was to live each day to the fullest, before your inevitable demise.

But…

There might be another way. Perhaps one Goddess’s decree could cancel out another one. And so, you made plans. Your fiance’s family were willing to break up the betrothal. (You were slightly relieved, he was a nice man, but he just wasn’t the man you’d want to spend the rest of your life with) and your own family gave you the money that was to be your dowry. You signed away your share of the inheritance to your family’s farm to your younger brother, for an exchange of gold. And after a celebratory harvest feast, your family sent you on your way, with their blessings, hopes, and prayers. You would either come back hale and healthy, or not at all.

You couldn’t help yourself, at every opportunity, when the bustle of the crowds was not pushing you forward, you stopped and stared at the city before you. Your family was one of the most prosperous in your village, but they might as well have been begging for scraps with the dogs in comparison. Women strode by, wrapped in flowing robes, made of exotic materials, embroidered with gold thread. Men did business, each followed by half a dozen servants, each assigned to a mundane task, such as holding an umbrella to block out the sun, or to carry a parcel of business records. And everywhere, the wealth of Fortuna, no doubt flowing from its temples and the constant throngs of pilgrims, was on display, whitewashed buildings with mosaics made up of semi-precious stones. The sound of clinking coins as both locals and visitors exchanged money for the mundane, and the mystical.

You checked your pouch for what seemed like the hundredth time. Your trip had been taxing, both on your body, and your coin purse. You had just enough for an offering to access Lady Eva’s shrine, and to make your plea for healing. After that? Well, if it was successful, you’d find a way back home, you had skills that would fill your stomach and purchase passage back home, or to wherever your heart took you. (after all your traveling, you’d appreciated the vastness of the world over your tiny little village). Or… you’d spend your final days, penniless and alone.

Slowly, you realized that you’d not be alone in your situation. For even fortunate Fortuna, a city gilded in gold and marble, had a foundation made of rotten wood and crumbling sand. In alley ways scuffled the dregs of society, the forlorn and forgotten residents who could not take part in the bounty that the upper crust enjoyed.

And on even closer inspection, your amazement turned to disgust. For in a city that had a God of Justice, injustice reigned supreme, where unscrupulous vendors sold cheap trinkets for exorbitant prices, while the authorities looked the other way. A city that had a God of Protection, the strong dominated the weak, men in silk robes kicked dust in emaciated beggars faces. And a City that had a Goddess of Love, its residents cared for little besides themselves, and how to attain more wealth, how to exploit the visitors and the underclasses for their own benefit.

You munched on some stale bread, watching with growing horror as the facade disintegrated before your very eyes. The sooner you got out of here, the better. To be stuck on this island would be a death sentence, even if you were healed. But even in such dire straits, you admired the poor people’s resilience, their ability to endure. Not far from you, several scruffy children played knucklebones on the cobblestone, enjoying their life to the fullest, oblivious to their poverty. At least there was some innocence in such a cruel world.

From a distance you heard the sound of neighing horses and metal on stone. The throngs of people, both locals and visitors quickly got out of the way of a chariot going much too fast for such a narrow road. Its driver, a young man, bedecked in gold medallions laughed heartily along with a pretty young wench, dressed in equal finery. They sped along, their black stallion steeds frothing at the bit, uncaring of the danger they put the surrounding pedestrians in. Thankfully, they made such a racket, that nearly everyone was able to get out of their way in time, shouting curses at them as they went past, which were ignored. Even the raggamuffin children, intensely focussed on their game, realized the danger, and quickly scattered to the wind.

Well, all except one. A little girl, no older than ten, her frazzled red hair tied back in a rough ponytail, had either not heard the approach, or didn’t have the speed of her playmates to get out of the way.

Hopelessly, you attempted to run towards her, to get her out of the way, but even you knew there was no way you could have reached her before the chariot, which didn’t slow down at all, collided with her tiny body. And so, with a horrific sound, the girl was trampled underfoot, by four pairs of hooves, and one set of wheels.

You had expected the chariot to stop, or at the very least slow down, but the driver was either unaware, or more likely, didn’t seem to care, as it sped around a corner, one wheel lifting up as it did so. The last thing you heard was the crystal clear laughter of the youth, without a care in the world receding into the distance.

In the following silence, no one made a move towards the girl, in fact, after a few moments of shocked horror, everyone went back to their daily activities, as if nothing had even happened. The sprawled out body of the girl was to them, a piece of trash. At least with her fellow playmates, their disappearance was understandable. But there should be at least one kind soul that had the decency to care about the well being of this small child.

You would be that person, as you used your well worn staff to propel yourself towards the girl. Blood dribbled out of her ear and nose, and she remained still as death, but your fluttering fingers found a faint pulse, and to your great relief, a breath. Still, she was in a bad state, and would need help, if she would have any chance of survival. Quickly, you scanned the meandering group of people, who were watching you, while attempting to look like they WEREN'T watching you.

“Please!” You shouted, and for a moment, everyone froze. “Is there a healer here? Or does anyone know her parents?” After a brief hesitation, everyone went back to whatever more important tasks they had originally set out to do.

“ANYONE!?” You cried out, the smell of the girls blood choking your lungs, “Will anyone help?” No one did. The only response was the small whimpers and moans of pain from the unconcious girl.

Well, if no one was stepping up, you would have to be the one to save her. A farmer’s daughter, you knew all types of cures and treatments, but something like this? This was beyond your skill, most likely beyond the skill of even a physician. And as you looked up, to see the shining marble statue of Eva, her smile radiating down upon you, even from this distance, you realized that there was still a chance to save this flickering flame. Placing your staff on your back, you picked up the limp girl, and made your way to your ultimate destination. Strange, the girl seemed to weigh nothing.

You reached the gilded doors of the temple of Eva, guarded by two men, their bronze armour buffed to a shiny gleam. They were intimidating, but you had to try, for this little nameless girl's sake.

As you attempted to cross the threshold, in unison, their spears crossed, barring your way. You could always have attempted to push past them, but, odds were that the oracle’s prophecy for you would come true much, MUCH quicker.

“Please,” you pleaded, “This child needs healing, she needs Mother Eva’s blessing.”

“None enter this temple without an offering.” Their tone was as unyielding as the door behind them. “God's mercy! This isn’t some scam, a life hangs in the balance!”

The men scowled, and you couldn’t help but pull the child closer, to protect her.

“Fortuna’s laws are clear, the sacred places cannot be sullied by the empty handed.”

There would be no use arguing with them, even in such a dire situation. And so, you came to a fateful decision.

“I… have coin… the pouch on my hip.”

Within a blink of an eye, the one guard snatched it, and began to pour out your literal life savings into his palm, while his comrade kept his spear pointed at you. The greasy clink of coins being counted was the only sound you could hear. The man muttered something intelligible before pocketing the money, the gold being swallowed by billowing reams of cloth.

Without warning, the child was yanked out of your arms, and the guard carried her (far too roughly, in your opinion) into the sanctum. You went to follow, but the remaining guard blocked your path.

“Only those with an offering may enter,” he repeated mercilessly.

You were flabbergasted “B-but that’s all I have! I’m not going to do anything, I just want to make sure she’s alright!”

“Lady Eva looks after those who have made a sufficient gift, now begone!” And using the shaft of his spear, he shoved you to the ground, straight into a dirty puddle.

Part of you wanted to get up and punch him, part of you wanted to try to rush past him in an attempt to see the girl. The cruelty of it all was immeasurable, if the girl made it, she’d wake up alone and scared, and most likely possibly thrown out the moment she recovered.

But what could you do? Here, you had no friends, no connections, and now, most importantly in this wealth obsessed city, no money. And so, with a heavy heart, you attempted to wipe off some of the mud on your cloak, used your staff to pull yourself up, and left to go back to the pilgrim’s hostel, of which you had previously bought a night’s stay. Unless one of the Gods pitied you enough, it would be your last nights in relative comfort. All your travels, everything you had done for the past month...was all for naught. There was no way you could raise enough money for an offering...well, in time anyway. You were doomed.

You sat on the side of your cot, chewing on the last of the bread in your pocket. You wanted to give into despair, to just give up entirely. Tears in your eyes, you fell into slumber, with your only consolation was that the nameless red headed little girl would have a chance at the life you could never have.

The garden was beautiful, more than anything you’d ever seen in your travels. Vines climbed over ancient pillars, their leaves glossy and healthy, while vibrant blue roses bloomed, their sweet scent wafted over a barely there breeze. Statues of couples in romantic postures dotted the landscape, with the centerpiece being a winged man encircling both his arms and wings around his beloved, a woman carrying a harp. The fountain they stood atop of flowed out crystal clear water, which you could have sworn gave out an aroma of its own. What had you done to be invited to such a gorgeous locale? You wracked your mind, trying to think of how you got here, but all your memories of the past seemed to be clouded by fog. And strangely, you didn't seem to be worried about your inability to recall anything.

“Welcome!” A woman’s voice drew you out of your thoughts, and before you, a young woman smiled gently. You could have sworn there had been no one there a moment ago. “I have been waiting for your arrival for quite a while, please, this way.” Her arm, with simple gold bracelets that secured her sleeves, waved over to a set of klinai.

A mahogany table, with bowls of grapes, pomegranates and an assortment of other fruits, as well as a jar of wine, sat between the couches as both you and your host took your seats, and you enjoyed the texture of the cushioning crimson velvet.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised, “I didn’t mean to make you wait.”

Her laugh was musical, and entrancing. “No, it’s not you that is at fault. Fate often decrees that we must be patient.” She brushed away her vibrant red hair as she poured you a glass of wine, which you sipped. Whatever vintage it was, this was so good, it seemed out of place for a mere visit.

“Let me clarify,” she said as she plucked a grape from the bunch, “I haven’t been waiting for you specifically, but for someone of your selflessness and charity.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. You had no idea what she was speaking of, you were no more,no less righteous than the average person.

“Long have I despaired, for the rich people of my city have grown cold and hard, looking always to themselves than to their fellow men and women, while the poor cannot afford to do anything but focus on their very own survival. It took an outsider, someone not even coming to my temple, to show the charity that I so desperately sought.”

Before you could ask her to explain, a sparkling light enveloped her, almost blinding you, and as it dissipated, the woman had disappeared, replaced by a vaguely familiar child, her red hair in a less frazzled ponytail, dressed in brilliant white robes with a dusting of gold, instead of...rags?

She giggled, waved at you as you began to connect the dots, and with another equally blinding burst of light, transformed back to her adult self.

The cup of wine you held clattered to the ground, spilling its blood red contents upon the ground, as the realization hit, and you quickly averted your eyes, not daring to make eye contact with her. “L-lady Kyrie,” you stammered, terrified. For a mortal to look upon the Divine was a death sentence, “I-i didn’t realize...forgive your humble servant.” You attempted to get off the couch, in order to supplicate yourself, to spare yourself from her wrath, but were stopped by the gentlest touch upon your chin, slowly bringing your face upwards to her beautiful visage.

“What kind of host would I be if I struck down a guest I had invited? She chuckled again, sending tingles up and down your spine, before answering her own question, “a very poor one.” She relaxed back into her couch, “Without hesitation, you aided a stranger, and gave everything you had to save her. Such an action deserves to be granted a boon.”

Instantly, your mind went to the Oracle that had predicted your death. “Can you cure me?” Kyrie may not be the goddess of healing, but she was a Goddess, such a thing should not be beyond her power.

Unfortunately, her expression fell, “Sadly, I cannot. Not even Lady Eva could save you. Even us deities are bound by the decrees of the Lady of Time and Space.” Your heart crumbled. Your journey to somehow heal yourself had been doomed from the moment the oracle had murmured those words, no...most likely since before you were born.

“But…” she said, “I have a way to give you purpose...to hopefully make your final years make an indelible mark,” her hazel eyes were soft and sympathetic. “To the North, where the graves are made of red granite, lies Vergil’s temple. Long has it been forgotten and abandoned, and as much as he would deny it, he needs a priestess, to serve him, to help him remember…”

Remember what? You wanted to ask, but the world seemed to be a bit fuzzier, like a fog was billowing in.

“Make your way to that temple, and be His Priestess” Kyrie spoke, softly, but with the firmness of a sacred order, her face already obscured by mist, “In time, both you, and He will understand…”

A rush of wind, blew over you, and you awoke in a sweat, gasping for air in your cot. Such an intense dream, it had felt so real, but that’s what it all was, merely a dream. The question was, now that you were awake, where were you? Ah, yes… you were in a hostel in Fortuna...dying from an incurable disease and completely...broke?

To your left, glittering under the light of an oil lamp, was a golden coin, leaning against… your old coin purse? How odd, last time you had seen it, it was in that grubby hand of that guard that had cruelly ripped it away from you. And even odder, it looked like it was much fuller than before, as you hesitatingly reached out for it, your eyes widened to the size of platters as gold coins spilled out. Even before you had set out on your journey for salvation, you hadn’t had this much. You looked around rapidly, to see if there was a sign that someone had placed it there, but the only change was a single blue rose, freshly plucked, that lay on the table beside it. You swung your legs over the side of the bed, and you contemplated what it meant in the early morning stillness, your fingers caressing the velvet petals.

Taking a deep breath, you placed the coin purse on your belt, and with the help of your sturdy staff, you got up. You had a long day ahead of you. It was time to leave this island, with all of its corruption...and head…

North.

#Devil May Cry #vergil x reader #God and Goddess Au

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awrldalone · 3 years ago

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21st August 2021, 9.12pm

I eat salads and pretend that I am happy. Just a few more days, and then we will drive home.

Today we visited San Gimignano, and it was pretty. I bought a new white linen shirt. Sometimes, when I wear the right things, I feel attractive. Part of me wants to feel handsome, like the love interest in any young adult novel.

I got invited to a masquerade ball, for C.’s 18th birthday. I will be blind for the whole night, without my glasses, but I think I have the right things to wear: a while ago I ordered a shirt of sheer lace, and I have yet to find an occasion to wear it. Next week I will look for a black and gold mask to cover half of my face. I fantasised about the party for the whole morning. I hope there will be some cute boy to flirt with, maybe to escape with in a lonely part of the garden and whisper secrets to each other.

It’s not likely, but I can dream. Sometimes I think I will never feel true love, true romance, because gay people just cannot afford it. I have pierced pockets when it comes to romanticism, it feels like I have no hope of having a great love story, of meeting someone and feeling that spark. The fear they might be straight always suffocates it.

Lunch was weird. I was an asshole, kind of, because I told my parents I hated eating with them. It just makes me want to throw up, every single time. They talk about how much my sister eats: she’s a little chubby, like I was at her age, and she should watch what she eats.

I’m scared she will find comfort in food, just to be stabbed in the back by it and turn out like me; I do not want her to be fearful of food, I do not want her to stop tasting things. The only things I truly like are coffee and tea, no sugar. But I’m trying, I truly am.

This afternoon we arrived at the new place we are staying in. Yesterday I was too tired, too sleepy and groggy to explain things properly: for a night, we had to sleep in a farm - now we are in a little village of ancient brick houses.

By little, I mean ten or fifteen casali. There’s also a pool, and getting on the main road is scary. I do not know how my father will manage to drive.

At one point, lying under the sun, I could feel my atoms tremble. For an instant, I felt light. I was floating, a ray of sunshine between all the others.

This place is beautiful, I would go as far as saying that it is one of the many iterations of Eden, or an earthly paradise. The hill of our house opens to other hills of vines, the sunset is beautiful. We should be posting mor epictures of sunsets on social media.

-c.

#diary

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rumbelleshowdown · 4 years ago

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Author: Tea Rose

Prompt: Insects at night; bubble bath; Victorian

Group: C

North Star

The water was deliciously warm, and Belle sighed, sinking lower in the bath and letting her knees rise up. Tiny bubbles were rolling down her thighs into the water, waves of white foam from the rose and lavender soap she had used. They piled against her wet skin, and she lifted a foot, lathering the soap between her hands and stroking fragrant froth between her toes. The sound of swift footsteps made her glance around, and she smiled as her maid, Ruby Lucas, entered with a copper jug full of steaming water.

“Last one, Miss Belle,” she said breathlessly, and Belle sat forward, hugging her knees as Ruby poured in the hot water, making the bubbles seethe and burst.

“Thank you,” said Belle, relaxing back and letting her arms stretch out. “Did I hear the front door just now?”

“Mr Gold arrived,” said Ruby, and seemed to bite her lip to hide a smirk as Belle squeaked.

“Mr Gold? But he hasn’t visited in an age! Is he staying long?”

“Tiana was making some supper for him while I was fetching the water,” said Ruby, with a grin. “So it looks that way, Miss.”

Belle floundered, pushing herself upright and splashing water over the edge of the tub.

“Hurry! My blue dress!”

Ruby was used to her mistress’s impulsive nature and swift decisions, and she managed to get Belle dressed and ready quickly, although Belle thought it fortunate that she hadn’t washed her hair that evening. She hurried from her room as soon as the last pin was in place, and paused at the top of the stairs, hands smoothing her skirts nervously. Voices were drifting up from her father’s study, and Belle clutched at the smooth oak banister, her heart pounding and the colour rising in her cheeks as she recognised the warm brogue of Mr Gold. She closed her eyes briefly, remembering the way his smile made the corners of his mouth twist and his eyes gleam with a soft, amber light.

He had been friends with her father for some time; Maurice French’s strange inventions and boundless enthusiasm for the latest scientific discoveries made him somewhat eccentric in the eyes of his peers, but Mr Gold shared his interests, and the two of them had struck up a friendship. Gold had a fine house in London and an estate north of the Scottish border that Belle had regrettably never seen. Maurice didn’t like to travel, preferring to spend all his time at home, shut up in his workroom or reading in his library. Gold travelled a great deal, searching far and wide for a son he had lost and was desperate to find.

Belle had seen a picture of his son once, a drawing in charcoal of a dark-haired boy of around fourteen. It had been crumpled and a little smudged at the edges, as though it was looked at often. Thinking of the pain that Gold had carried for years made her heart ache for him, but he always had a smile for her, and a present from his travels, and fascinating tales of the places he had visited. He had been coming to the house regularly for the past five years, and Belle had been completely in love with him for around four and a half. For all the good it did.

She took a deep breath, composing herself before she entered the room, and both men turned to look at her, Maurice short and round with a balding head and bristling white mustache and Gold a little taller, thin and clean-shaven. He wore his brown hair longer than was fashionable, curling over the collar of his coat and brushing his cheeks. It was turning silver at the temples, and she had always thought how soft it looked, and how much she wanted to touch it. There was an old ring on his right hand, a moonstone in a heavy gold band, which she had noticed him turning between finger and thumb when lost in thought. Gold bowed his head as she entered.

“Miss French,” he said. “You’re looking remarkably well.”

“Thank you,” she said. “It’s been too long since we saw you, hasn’t it, Papa? Where did you go?”

Gold glanced between them.

“I just returned from the south of France,” he said. “Choppy waters in the Bay of Biscay, but the winds were with us.”

“Oh!” said Belle excitedly. “I’d love to go to France! Please, tell me what it was like!”

Gold turned towards her, the little smile he often wore twisting his mouth and making his dark eyes gleam in the lamplight.

“I rode a horse through endless fields of lavender,” he said softly. “The scent filled the air around me, and seemed to sink into my skin, so that I could smell it at night when I lay down to sleep. The road was hard earth, baked and cracked by the sun, winding between small villages and farms where the locals dozed in the shade of the olive trees with their cats. In the evenings, the sun would set in a blazing puddle of molten gold, and I ate fresh bread and soft, pungent cheese and drank red wine that was dark as blood and tasted of spices.”

Belle could feel her mouth fall open as the sound of his voice washed over her, filling her mind with the images his words created. His eyes were fixed on hers, his gaze steady.

“Must be a shock to come back to London, what?” said Maurice jovially, and Gold looked away, breaking the spell.

“The city is even busier and dirtier than I remember,” he said, with a grin. “It’s strange: I tell myself each time I go that I should sell the house and leave London entirely, yet something keeps pulling me back, turning me home. Like a guiding light. Like the North Star.”

He glanced briefly at Belle, and she felt a blush begin to heat her cheeks. Please don’t leave, she thought. Please don’t leave me.

“It’ll keep your housekeeper on her toes,” chuckled Maurice.

“Poor Mrs Potts,” said Gold, sounding rueful. “I fear the house will still be shut up tight. I’ll have to let myself in and build a fire. It’ll be the devil’s work for my valet trying to make me presentable tomorrow morning; he does like to do things properly.”

“Then stay with us, my dear fellow!” cried Maurice, patting his shoulder. “Goodness, you can’t be expected to open up the house yourself at this hour!”

“Well, it would certainly be a relief not to have to go out again,” said Gold. “The journey was rather tiring. Of course, I wouldn’t want to impose...”

“Not at all, not at all,” said Maurice. “Let me speak to Mrs Lucas. I’ll have one of the guest rooms made ready, and Locksley will look after your man.”

“Thank you, you’re very kind.”

Maurice bustled out, and Gold turned to Belle with a smile.

“I’m sorry to be calling so late, Miss French,” he said. “After travelling for so long, I almost lost track of the day, not to mention the hour.”

“We’re very glad to see you,” she said warmly, almost reaching for his hand before remembering herself and pulling back. “And you must be tired. Please, don’t feel that you have to stand on my account. Do take a seat, I insist.”

Gold’s smile widened.

“I could never refuse you anything, Miss French.”

Gold was served a simple supper of raised game pie, bread and cheese, and afterwards he and Maurice drank brandy and talked over the latest news. Belle was eager to hear more stories of the trip to France, and Gold obliged, telling her of the sights he had seen on the roads through Provence to Avignon.

“Sounds dusty,” declared Maurice. “And much too hot. This summer has been wretched. Far better to stay at home.”

“Well, I would love to travel,” said Belle. “I always wanted to see the world. I’ve lived twenty years, and barely left London! What I wouldn’t give for some adventure!”

“You young people are too restless,” grumbled Maurice. “Certainly I have no desire to be always going here, there and everywhere. And certainly young women shouldn’t be travelling alone and - and adventuring. It’s unseemly.”

“This is the Victorian age, Papa,” said Belle severely. “If Her Majesty is considered capable of ruling an entire empire, then allowing the rest of us women the freedom to do as we please will hardly bring about the downfall of civilisation.”

Maurice clicked his tongue.

“Really, Belle!” he said. “What must Mr Gold think of you?” “Mr Gold agrees wholeheartedly,” said Gold. “The world would be far better if women had the same freedoms as men, and were recognised for the infinitely superior creatures they are. Where will you go on your travels, Miss French?”

Belle thought for a moment.

“Perhaps I shall start a little closer to home,” she said. “I have always wanted to visit Scotland.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to come to Dundorcha,” he said. “Although at this time of year, the midges will want to eat you alive.”

“Perhaps in the winter, then,” she suggested, and he smiled.

“I’ll make you very welcome.”

It was nearing midnight. Maurice was snoring in his chair, and Belle had followed Gold out onto the balcony overlooking the rear gardens. The summer night was cool, the only light coming from the oil lantern that Gold had carried with them and placed on the table where Belle took her morning tea. A moth appeared out of the night, batting translucent wings against the lantern’s glass shade. Smaller insects joined it, the glow from the lantern catching them, brief flecks of light in the darkness. Gold was gazing out into the night, his expression distant, thoughtful. His fingers turned that old ring, the gold band catching the light from the lantern.

“Where did you get that ring?” asked Belle. “I always meant to ask. It looks old.”

Gold looked down, splaying his fingers.

“It is,” he agreed. “Older than you might think.”

“Is it a family heirloom?” she asked, and he smiled in an almost secretive way.

“Something like that.”

“A good luck charm, perhaps?” she suggested, and he shrugged.

“It’s supposed to help the bearer find what it is they want most in the world,” he said, and leaned towards her, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s magic.”

“Really?” she asked, a little breathless at his closeness of him. Gold pulled back, a tiny sigh escaping him.

“Well, that’s what I hoped,” he said, sounding resigned. “A fool’s hope. There is no magic in this world. At least, not any more. Perhaps there used to be.”

He sounded despondent, and she wanted to comfort him, to tell him there was always hope.

“Is there no word of him?” she asked gently. “No word of your son? I’m sure you’ll find him. I can feel it.”

Gold shook his head, his mouth twisting.

“I’ve been searching for so long now,” he said quietly. “Every time I hear the faintest rumour I pick up and I chase after it. Every time I’ve been disappointed.”

“You mustn’t give up hope,” she said, and he turned to her with a sad smile.

“I try to keep faith that I’ll find him,” he said. “Alas, this time it was not to be. I didn’t choose the right place. Sometimes I wonder if I’m even in the right time.”

“The world is vast,” she said. “Trying to find one person out of - of thousands - must be next to impossible. You can’t blame yourself.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “And perhaps it isn’t merely my own misfortune. If he wanted to be found, he wouldn’t make it so difficult.”

Belle stepped closer.

“You think he’s - hiding - from you?” she asked curiously, and he sighed gently.

“There was a misunderstanding,” he said. “Before he - before I lost him. I think he might still be very angry with me.”

Belle bit her lip, shaking her head.

“But you’re his father,” she said softly. “He must know that you love him. He can’t stay angry forever.”

“I hope you’re right.”

His eyes were downcast, and he suddenly looked very tired. Tired and sad. On impulse, Belle stepped close, turning her face upwards and pressing her mouth to his. She felt him freeze at the touch of her lips, and she drew back, her heart pounding. Gold was staring at her wide-eyed, a stricken look on his face, but then his gaze darkened and he reached out to cup her cheeks with warm hands, bending his head to kiss her.

Belle opened her mouth a little, a moan escaping her as his lips met hers, soft and warm. The touch of his tongue made her rise up on her toes and press her body to his, and he let out a low groan as she slid her hands around his waist. A faint, jagged noise seemed to burst outwards, like the sound of glass shattering in the distance, and Belle’s eyes flew open as what looked like a rainbow-hued ripple spread out from them and dissipated. Gold was breathing heavily, staring at her wide-eyed.

“What was that?” she gasped, and he smiled broadly, gazing at the ring on his finger, which seemed to pulse with a soft light.

“A second chance,” he breathed. “A spark of magic. I can find him. With this I can find him.”

“Magic?” she asked, puzzled, and he cradled her cheeks with his palms, still grinning. He looked to be on the verge of tears, and she couldn’t understand it.

“The most powerful magic of all,” he said softly. “Powerful enough to transcend realms and trigger the spell in this ring. True love.”

Belle clutched at his waist, nodding fiercely.

“Yes!” she whispered. “I do love you! I’ve loved you for so long!”

“And I love you, too.” He pressed his forehead to hers, seeming to breathe in her scent. “I never dared to hope that you might feel the same, my darling Belle. I never dared to dream that you might want me. And now you’ve given me this gift. This chance.”

“I - I don’t understand,” she said. “What did I do?”

His thumbs stroked her cheeks, his nose brushing against hers.

“There’s power in love, Belle,” he said. “Love creates magic. Magic enough to let me find my boy. Will you come with me?”

Belle smiled at his strange talk of magic, reaching up to stroke a hand through his hair. It was every bit as soft as she had thought.

“I’d love to,” she said. ”We’ll see the world, just as I always wanted. I’ll help you find him, I swear it. Whatever you need.”

Gold kissed her again, soft lips gently pulling at her own, and she melted into the kiss, safe in his arms. Magic or not, it would be the most wonderful adventure.

#rumbelle showdown 2020 #round three entry #author: tea rose #rumbelle fic

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years ago

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Song for Autumn: Home || Morgan & Deirdre (pt.1)

TIMING: A few days ago

PARTIES: @deathduty & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan’s ritual needs a very specific conduit. Deirdre knows exactly what she’s looking for.

CONTAINS: Brief discussions of past physical and emotional abuse

One a single minute had passed between the last time Deirdre glanced over at Morgan and tried to stir her attention with a pout, and the horrific realization that Morgan was too entrenched in her reading to even notice Deirdre’s piteous gaze. She’d finished sharpening the knives she sat down with minutes ago, now bored with reveling in the warm silence that filled these afternoons shared with Morgan. It was one singular, burning, terrible, minute from the last time she tried to stir Morgan’s attention, and another two minutes from the time she tried before then. And she knew it would be more agonizing minutes before Morgan remembered she was there at all, and that the sound of scraping against whetstone no longer claimed the air. Sometimes, action needed to be taken into her own hands. With the grace of a cat, she pounced on Morgan’s legs--careful of her files and folders--and crawled up until she could put her face in front of whatever decidedly less attractive text she was reading. Her eyes sparked with curiosity, but her mouth twitched with the tell-tale mark of a fae that wanted attention. “I know you physically can’t get wrinkles, but---” Deirdre offered a wide smile, raising her thumb to wipe away the concentration that fraught between Morgan’s brows. “You’ve been very interested in your papers lately.” The and not so much in me, your adoring and very attractive girlfriend hung unsaid in the air, having been said enough times before to be an echo in the way she pouted. “What are you up to? Anything I can steal you from?” She eyed the cup of once boiling tea---brewed as strong as tea could be---now lukewarm and staining the inside of one of several mugs Deirdre had bought for Morgan. It was a trait that persisted even through death, but Morgan always touched her tea more when it was grading or lesson plans on her mind. “This is Constance stuff, isn’t it?”

The books Morgan and Cece had stolen from the professor’s house were more of a gold mine than she had wanted to believe. She was so used to the world falling around her or promising doors slamming in her face. But this--? Whatever retribution game the original owner of this book had been playing at was, it had been thorough. The one Morgan was settling on was particularly insidious, calling for extra sources of energy, for objects to stabilize and direct the energy safely, for even wielding the pain brought on with precision, ramping it up more as the ritual progressed. Finding someone with the stamina for an hours-long ordeal, and the nerve to go through with this kind of harm, wouldn’t be easy. But Morgan had money, and she could front her own materials. It was only right that she invest herself in her ritual, even if she could do nothing in its execution. The ingredients ran the gamut from easy to forage herbs to...the obscure. Some of the terms were things Morgan hadn’t even heard of…

Deirdre’s voice shocked her out of her stupor. She hadn’t even heard her climb onto the couch. Morgan squealed, then deflated with relief and leaned over to kiss away her pout. “If you want to cuddle, you just have to ask, my love,” she said sweetly. “But yes, it’s Constance. This book has everything I need and then some, but as I’m trying to get my lists together, what I need, where and how am I going to get it, who is going to help and/or bodyguard me from more ghost attacks...I’m not actually sure what all of this stuff is?” She shifted the papers she wasn’t using to the coffee table and guided Deirdre to lay against her so they could look together. “Now, thanks to Evelyn’s help, I’m getting through this weird blend of Latin and French way better that I would have on my own. But this--” she pointed. “Translates to a comb of iron? Iron comb? Is that like...a hair comb?” She laughed, self deprecating at her own confusion and stroked Deirdre’s hair, bringing her in for another kiss.

Deirdre continued to crawl her way between the couch and Morgan, resting her head on the woman’s chest as she’d so often done to her. It, admittedly, was not as comfortable as they would be on more forgiving furniture, but it was better than being sat in her separate chair, sharing longing looks with the side of her girlfriend’s head. “I have been asking, you just hadn’t looked up a single time to see it,” she tried to sound hurt, but her grumble couldn’t last under the delight of finally being able to hold Morgan. She draped her arms around Morgan’s stomach and pressed tight, tilting her head down to see what Morgan was talking about. She stared at the words under her girlfriend’s finger. Blinked. Closed her eyes and kissed Morgan eagerly, imagining the words would shift when she opened them again. But there they were. Peigne de fer. La carde. A jumble of French she didn’t understand, but the English Morgan translated, she did. Her body tensed by reflex, then shivered. “It’s for sheep.” She explained plainly. “Or for the wool, more specifically.” Her hand tightened around Morgan, gripping the fabric of her clothing tightly. “You card the wool to straighten the fibers and pull out any clumps so you can begin spinning it.” She slumped against Morgan and closed her eyes. Memories she would have done well to forget drifted back to her. Her mother held one such Warden designed iron carder in her hands, and spoke something or another about the old fashioned ones and the torture they enjoyed. Somewhere, beyond their bodies, a pig squealed. “The more modern hand carders look just like combs, that’s all they really are, anyway. But the older ones are…” She swallowed and opened her eyes. “That’s what I think your passages are talking about, at least. They aren’t used for much else.”

Laying sprawled together like this delighted Morgan to no end. Toes curling, legs tangling, she folded herself around her girlfriend and showered her head in yet more kisses. “Mmm, I’m sorry, babe,” she murmured, gathering Deirdre’s hair so it would be easier to play with. “I suppose I’ll have to make it up to you, or else be severely punished.” She giggled and tilted Deirdre’s chin up to steal another kiss, a proper lingering one that left cotton tingles on her cheek and lips and reminded her of what touch had once been. The memory grew harder to find each month, but warmth of feeling beneath it never faltered.

Morgan’s pleasure didn’t last for long. Deirdre tensed in her arms, trembling, and looked away from the text. Morgan couldn’t connect her girlfriend’s explanation about the comb to her distress, but she knew something was wrong. “Hey…” she cooed, leaning down to give more kisses. “What is it, my love?” Was it the iron? The sheep? Morgan looked at the text again, putting the image of a plain farm tool in place of the words. “It is a weird choice for a conduit, I guess,” she mumbled, “Are the kind of combs this is probably referring to kind of big or bulky?” The ritual had been written during the French Revolution, after all, when a band of exorcists and casters determined the guillotine had been too good for some aristocrats, and destroying their ghosts was their second chance. Whatever they determined would suit their purpose probably wasn’t subtle, which suited Morgan just fine, in theory. “The uh...the sheep aren’t still attached to the wool, right?” She asked, still trying to make sense of Deirdre’s reaction. “I don’t have to bring it into the house, you know. It can stay in the garage, or a lock box in the shed if we ever get it back. Somewhere you won’t touch it by accident?” Morgan set aside her book altogether and wrapped Deirdre up in her arms. “Talk to me,” she said in a whisper. “Whatever you need, it’s yours.”

“And I’m not known to be merciful, my love.” Deirdre hummed, and then her voice spilled into laughter. Of course, if anyone would pick up on what she was feeling, even before she processed it herself, it would be Morgan. By some miracle, her love knew her exceptionally well, and Deirdre was thankful for it. If it wasn’t for her gentle assurances and nudges, Deirdre never would summon the strength to bear honesty with such ease. She laughed again, and shifted to bury her head into Morgan’s neck. There, enveloped in Morgan--surrounded by her scent and the gentle tugging of her undeadness--she imagined that there was a world without iron combs. Without their truth. Without pain. A world that they deserved, and could have. A happy, gentle world, where Deirdre might just have been the bright and brilliant person Morgan seemed to think she was. A good world. A kind world. Their world. Deirdre was stirred to reality by the rustling of paper, pulled back and opened her eyes to their house--filled with their things. It wasn’t too far off from some magical land where terror couldn’t find them; most days, it felt like that. Her eyes moved to the papers, books, notes and folders scattered around them. The scene looked eerily like the one in the Haven Hotel, months ago, when there was a heartbeat pressed against Deirdre’s cheek. Back then, there had been a lump in her stomach, a gnawing fear that Morgan would be lost to fate. She’d been right, and left to wonder if her fear was premonition or simple anxiety. When the same lump settled inside of her again, she didn’t know what to think. “I don’t know how someone touches a pointy comb by accident,” Deirdre laughed, pressing a firm kiss to Morgan’s cheek. “And the sheep aren’t attracted, no. Wool processing is long; you have to shear it and then prepare and wash it. Then it dries and---” Deirdre reddened, coughing as she remembered that yarn production was not Morgan’s concern now. Anything, perhaps, to save a few seconds before the truth. “Torture,” she said after a moment. “It’s probably an effective conduit because it was used for torture. You rake it across someone’s flesh. The iron must be effective for ghosts.” Just as it was for fae, and just as Deirdre knew how such devices worked against her kind. Not that it mattered. “Hm, the hand carders aren’t so big. There are, obviously, bigger ones out there. What do the books say you need?”

Morgan knew from Deirdre’s hesitation that what followed would be anything but good. She even knew from the deliberate plainness her girlfriend spoke with that she hadn’t gotten the knowledge out of a book. There had been enough references to the extracurricular torture Sibohan had put Deirdre through, but the image of a comb bristling with iron points had never crossed Morgan’s mind. She brushed her knuckles down her soft, freckled skin, trying to imagine someone tearing and burning it at once. Was that something Wardens did for fun that Sibohan thought she needed to impart? Or was it just another barbaric lesson. “Oh, Deirdre…” she whispered. “I had...no idea…” She tucked them closer together, curled up and all but locked in place, as if that could do anything for how she’d been thoughtfully tortured and broken from the outside in years ago. “You know we…” she grimaced and buried her face in her hair. “I know what we said before, but you don’t have to do this with me. I can…” her stomach turned at the thought of trying to find something like this, holding it in her hand, knowing what it was really for and how it had been used to hurt Deirdre. “I can figure this one out on my own. I can...I don’t know. But I don’t want you to have to relive anything like that because of me.” She didn’t know how to say it, but she feared Deirdre conflating her with that torture just as much. But Constance was different, and so was Morgan. She wouldn’t do something so monstrous for no reason, and never to anyone she wasn’t certain deserved it. But hurt did funny things to people, and trauma haunted in ways that didn’t always make sense.

“What?” If Deirdre had the strength to sit up and ruin the tight, tangled hold the two of them had perfected, she might have from the shock. “No, no,” she calmed her voice. “I’m not reliving anything, I’m not--I wouldn’t be. It doesn’t---” She sighed, and lifted her head up, trying to catch Morgan’s to pepper with reassurance and affection where she could. “The things that I’ve seen, and been through...they exist everywhere. In iron combs, spoons, mugs--” Deirdre gestured around their house. “At one point, one of these things has been bad for me in some way. By what was done with them, by them having been witnesses. With what I’ve seen, what I’ve been made to see. I don’t look at a mug and always think about each that my mother threw at a wall anymore than you must look at a lock and imagine the one of your bedroom. I’d much rather see a cup as being something you hold, something I get to pour your boiling tea into. I’d rather see it as good. And that’s exactly what I think about when I look at it.” She pressed into Morgan, holding her tighter. “And if I can help you, if a tool like that can be used to deliver justice, then it gets to be good. And I get to see it that way. The rest doesn’t matter to me. You are good, and you will use whatever tool you see fit, however you want to, and I will love you all the same.” Deirdre smiled softly, twisting her body up so she could kiss her girlfriend with as much love as she could muster. And again. And again, and again until she was sure her point was clear. She raked her teeth along Morgan’s lip as she drew back, thinking nothing of the iron and the way it could tear at her own flesh. “Thank you, my love. But it’s okay. The torture done to my kind is never a pleasant thing to think about, but it’s not new to me, and it’s not so terrible a thought that I won’t help you. I want to. I know it will serve you better than it would anyone else. I trust you, Morgan, and I love you. More than anything else. Now, what does your research say about the comb? Is there a specific kind you need?”

Morgan threw herself into Deirdre’s kisses, returning them with her own, firm and earnest and bursting with an affection she couldn’t put into words. She couldn’t say, ‘you dodged your mother’s mugs, too?’ and ‘I love your resilience and your courage and how much you love me,’ and ‘you are the wisest and most wonderful woman I know’ at the same time, much less in the seconds it took to take her lip between her teeth. And even these thoughts, swimming around her head as they slipped deeper into the couch cushions, didn’t quite get to the heart of the recognition that cut through her, or how it mixed with horror, sympathy, pride, affection, gratitude. She hoped that the alchemy between them would translate and Deridre would understand what even she couldn’t. Morgan didn’t bother with words at all until she felt Deirdre’s breathing grow strained against her.

“You’re incredible,” Morgan whispered. “I am so very proud to know you, Deirdre.” Another kiss, chased and sweet. “And, about that, I’m sticking hard to the original to minimize surprises, and I don’t want some stodgy exorcist to turn me down for not being through enough, so…”

#wr deirdre #wr chatzy #wr deirdre chatzy #abuse tw #physical abuse tw #//it's actually really short!#song for autumn #wickedswriting

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mellifera38 · 6 years ago

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Mel’s Big Fantasy Place-Name Reference

So I’ve been doing lots of D&D world-building lately and I’ve kind of been putting together lists of words to help inspire new fantasy place names. I figured I’d share. These are helpful for naming towns, regions, landforms, roads, shops, and they’re also probably useful for coming up with surnames. This is LONG. There’s plenty more under the cut including a huge list of “fantasy sounding” word-parts. Enjoy!

Towns & Kingdoms

town, borough, city, hamlet, parish, township, village, villa, domain

kingdom, empire, nation, country, county, city-state, state, province, dominion

Town Name End Words (English flavored)

-ton, -ston, -caster, -dale, -den, -field, -gate, -glen, -ham, -holm, -hurst, -bar, -boro, -by, -cross, -kirk, -meade, -moore, -ville, -wich, -bee, -burg, -cester, -don, -lea, -mer, -rose, -wall, -worth, -berg, -burgh, -chase, -ly, -lin, -mor, -mere, -pool. -port, -stead, -stow, -strath, -side, -way, -berry, -bury, -chester, -haven, -mar, -mont, -ton, -wick, -meet, -heim, -hold, -hall, -point

Buildings & Places

castle, fort, palace, fortress, garrison, lodge, estate, hold, stronghold, tower, watchtower, palace, spire, citadel, bastion, court, manor, house

altar, chapel, abbey, shrine, temple, monastery, cathedral, sanctum, crypt, catacomb, tomb

orchard, arbor, vineyard, farm, farmstead, shire, garden, ranch

plaza, district, quarter, market, courtyard, inn, stables, tavern, blacksmith, forge, mine, mill, quarry, gallows, apothecary, college, bakery, clothier, library, guild house, bath house, pleasure house, brothel, jail, prison, dungeon, cellar, basement, attic, sewer, cistern

lookout, post, tradepost, camp, outpost, hovel, hideaway, lair, nook, watch, roost, respite, retreat, hostel, holdout, redoubt, perch, refuge, haven, alcove, haunt, knell, enclave, station, caravan, exchange, conclave

port, bridge, ferry, harbor, landing, jetty, wharf, berth, footbridge, dam, beacon, lighthouse, marina, dockyard, shipyard

road, street, way, row, lane, trail, corner, crossing, gate, junction, waygate, end, wall, crossroads, barrier, bulwark, blockade, pavilion, avenue, promenade, alley, fork, route

Time & Direction

North, South, East, West, up, down, side, rise, fall, over, under

Winter, Spring, Summer, Autumn, solstice, equanox, vernal, ever, never

dusk, dawn, dawnrise, morning, night, nightfall, evening, sundown, sunbreak, sunset

lunar, solar, sun, moon, star, eclipse

Geographical Terms

Cave, cavern, cenote, precipice, crevasse, crater, maar, chasm, ravine, trench, rift, pit

Cliff, bluff, crag, scarp, outcrop, stack, tor, falls, run, eyrie, aerie

Hill, mountain, volcano, knoll, hillock, downs, barrow, plateau, mesa, butte, pike, peak, mount, summit, horn, knob, pass, ridge, terrace, gap, point, rise, rim, range, view, vista, canyon, hogback, ledge, stair, descent

Valley, gulch, gully, vale, dale, dell, glen, hollow, grotto, gorge, bottoms, basin, knoll, combe

Meadow, grassland, field, pasture, steppe, veld, sward, lea, mead, fell, moor, moorland, heath, croft, paddock, boondock, prairie, acre, strath, heights, mount, belt

Woodlands, woods, forest, bush, bower, arbor, grove, weald, timberland, thicket, bosk, copse, coppice, underbrush, hinterland, park, jungle, rainforest, wilds, frontier, outskirts

Desert, dunes, playa, arroyo, chaparral, karst, salt flats, salt pan, oasis, spring, seep, tar pit, hot springs, fissure, steam vent, geyser, waste, wasteland, badland, brushland, dustbowl, scrubland

Ocean, sea, lake, pond, spring, tarn, mere, sluice, pool, coast, gulf, bay

Lagoon, cay, key, reef, atoll, shoal, tideland, tide flat, swale, cove, sandspit, strand, beach

Snowdrift, snowbank, permafrost, floe, hoar, rime, tundra, fjord, glacier, iceberg

River, stream, creek, brook, tributary, watersmeet, headwater, ford, levee, delta, estuary, firth, strait, narrows, channel, eddy, inlet, rapids, mouth, falls

Wetland, marsh, bog, fen, moor, bayou, glade, swamp, banks, span, wash, march, shallows, mire, morass, quag, quagmire, everglade, slough, lowland, sump, reach

Island, isle, peninsula, isthmus, bight, headland, promontory, cape, pointe, cape

More under the cut including: Color words, Animal/Monster related words, Rocks/Metals/Gems list, Foliage, People groups/types, Weather/Environment/ Elemental words, Man-made Items, Body Parts, Mechanical sounding words, a huge list of both pleasant and unpleasant Atmospheric Descriptors, and a huge list of Fantasy Word-parts.

Color Descriptions

Warm: red, scarlet, crimson, rusty, cerise, carmine, cinnabar, orange, vermillion, ochre, peach, salmon, saffron, yellow, gold, lemon, amber, pink, magenta, maroon, brown, sepia, burgundy, beige, tan, fuchsia, taupe

Cool: green, beryl, jade, evergreen, chartreuse, olive, viridian, celadon, blue, azure, navy, cerulean, turquoise, teal, cyan, cobalt, periwinkle, beryl, purple, violet, indigo, mauve, plum

Neutral: gray, silver, ashy, charcoal, slate, white, pearly, alabaster, ivory, black, ebony, jet

dark, dusky, pale, bleached, blotchy, bold, dappled, lustrous, faded, drab, milky, mottled, opaque, pastel, stained, subtle, ruddy, waxen, tinted, tinged, painted

Animal / Monster-Related Words

Bear, eagle, wolf, serpent, hawk, horse, goat, sheep, bull, raven, crow, dog, stag, rat, boar, lion, hare, owl, crane, goose, swan, otter, frog, toad, moth, bee, wasp, beetle, spider, slug, snail, leech, dragonfly, fish, trout, salmon, bass, crab, shell, dolphin, whale, eel, cod, haddock

Dragon, goblin, giant, wyvern, ghast, siren, lich, hag, ogre, wyrm, kraken

Talon, scale, tusk, hoof, mane, horn, fur, feather, fang, wing, whisker, bristle, paw, tail, beak, claw, web, quill, paw, maw, pelt, haunch, gill, fin,

Hive, honey, nest, burrow, den, hole, wallow

Rocks / Metals / Minerals

Gold, silver, brass, bronze, copper, platinum, iron, steel, tin, mithril, electrum, adamantite, quicksilver, fool’s gold, titanium

Diamond, ruby, emerald, sapphire, topaz, opal, pearl, jade, jasper, onyx, citrine, aquamarine, turquoise, lapiz lazuli, amethyst, quartz, crystal, amber, jewel

Granite, shale, marble, limestone, sandstone, slate, diorite, basalt, rhyolite, obsidian, glass

Earth, stone, clay, sand, silt, salt, mote, lode, vein, ore, ingot, coal, boulder, bedrock, crust, rubble, pebble, gravel, cobble, dust, clod, peat, muck mud, slip, loam, dirt, grit, scree, shard, flint, stalactite/mite

Trees / Plants / Flowers

Tree, ash, aspen, pine, birch, alder, willow, dogwood, oak, maple, walnut, chestnut, cedar, mahogany, palm, beech, hickory, hemlock, cottonwood, hawthorn, sycamore, poplar, cypress, mangrove, elm, fir, spruce, yew

Branch, bough, bramble, gnarl, burr, tangle, thistle, briar, thorn, moss, bark, shrub, undergrowth, overgrowth, root, vine, bracken, reed, driftwood, coral, fern, berry, bamboo, nectar, petal, leaf, seed, clover, grass, grain, trunk, twig, canopy, cactus, weed, mushroom, fungus

Apple, olive, apricot, elderberry, coconut, sugar, rice, wheat, cotton, flax, barley, hops, onion, carrot, turnip, cabbage, squash, pumpkin, pepper

Flower, rose, lavender, lilac, jasmine, jonquil, marigold, carnelian, carnation, goldenrod, sage, wisteria, dahlia, nightshade, lily, daisy, daffodil, columbine, amaranth, crocus, buttercup, foxglove, iris, holly, hydrangea, orchid, snowdrop, hyacinth, tulip, yarrow, magnolia, honeysuckle, belladonna, lily pad, magnolia

People

Settler, Pilgrim, Pioneer, Merchant, Prospector, Maker, Surveyor, Mason, Overseer, Apprentice, Widow, Sailor, Miner, Blacksmith, Butcher, Baker, Brewer, Barkeep, Ferryman, Hangman, Gambler, Fisherman, Adventurer, Hero, Seeker, Hiker, Traveler, Crone

Mage, Magician, Summoner, Sorcerer, Wizard, Conjurer, Necromancer,

King, Queen, Lord, Count, Baron, Guard, Soldier, Knight, Vindicator, Merchant, Crusader, Imperator, Syndicate, Vanguard, Champion, Warden, Victor, Legionnaire, Master, Archer, Footman, Gladiator, Barbarian, Captain, Commodore,

Beggar, Hunter, Ranger, Deadman, Smuggler, Robber, Swindler, Rebel, Bootlegger, Outlaw, Pirate, Brigand, Ruffian, Highwayman, Cutpurse, Thief, Assassin

God, Goddess, Exarch, Angel, Devil, Demon, Cultist, Prophet, Hermit, Seer

council, clergy, guild, militia, choir

Climate, Environment, & The Elements

Cold, cool, brisk, frosty, chilly, icy, freezing, frozen, frigid, glacial, bitter, biting, bleak, arctic, polar, boreal, wintry, snowy, snow, blizzarding, blizzard, sleeting, sleet, chill, frost, ice, icebound, ice cap, floe, snowblind, frostbite, coldsnap, avalanche, snowflake

Hot, sunny, humid, sweltering, steaming, boiling, sizzling, blistering, scalding, smoking, caldescent, dry, parched, arid, fallow, thirsty, melting, molten, fiery, blazing, burning, charring, glowing, searing, scorching, blasted, sun, fire, heat, flame, wildfire, bonfire, inferno, coal, ash, cinder, ember, flare, pyre, tinder, kindling, aflame, alight, ablaze, lava, magma, slag,

Wet, damp, dank, soggy, sodden, soaked, drenched, dripping, sopping, briny, murky, rain, storm, hail, drizzle, sprinkle, downpour, deluge, squall, water, cloud, fog, mist, dew, puddle, pool, current, whirlpool, deep, depths, tide, waves, whitewater, waterfall, tidal wave, flow, flood, leak, drain

Wind, breeze, gust, billow, gail, draft, waft, zephyr, still, airy, clear, smokey, tempest, tempestuous, windswept, aerial, lofty, torrid, turbulent, nebulous, tradewind, thunder, lightning, spark, cyclone, tornado, whirlwind, hurricane, typhoon

Man-made Item Words

Furnace, forge, anvil, vault, strap, strip, whetstone, brick, sword, blade, axe, dagger, shield, buckler, morningstar, bow, quiver, arrow, polearm, flail, staff, stave, sheath, hilt, hammer, knife, helm, mantle, banner, pauldron, chainmail, mace, dart, cutlass, canon, needle, cowl, belt, buckle, bandana, goggles, hood, boot, heel, spindle, spool, thread, sweater, skirt, bonnet, apron, leather, hide, plate, tunic, vest, satin, silk, wool, velvet, lace, corset, stocking, binding

Plow, scythe, (wheel) barrow, saddle, harrow, brand, collar, whip, leash, lead, bridle, stirrup, wheel, straw, stall, barn, hay, bale, pitchfork, well, log, saw, lumber, sod, thatch, mortar, brick, cement, concrete, pitch, pillar, window, fountain, door, cage, spoke, pole, table, bench, plank, board

Candle, torch, cradle, broom, lamp, lantern, clock, bell, lock, hook, trunk, looking glass, spyglass, bottle, vase, locket, locker, key, handle, rope, knot, sack, pocket, pouch, manacle, chain, stake, coffin, fan. cauldron, kettle, pot, bowl, pestle, oven, ladle, spoon, font, wand, potion, elixir, draught, portal, book, tome, scroll, word, manuscript, letter, message, grimoire, map, ink, quill, pen, cards, dice

Coin, coronet, crown, circlet, scepter, treasure, riches, scales, pie, tart, loaf, biscuit, custard, caramel, pudding, porridge, stew, bread, tea, gravy, gristle, spice, lute, lyre, harp, drum, rouge, powder, perfume, brush

bilge, stern, pier, sail, anchor, mast, dock, deck, flag, ship, boat, canoe, barge, wagon, sled, carriage, buggy, cart

Wine, brandy, whiskey, ale, moonshine, gin, cider, rum, grog, beer, brew, goblet, flagon, flask, cask, tankard, stein, mug, barrel, stock, wort, malt

Body Parts

Head, throat, finger, foot, hand, neck, shoulder, rib, jaw, eye, lips, bosom

Skull, spine, bone, tooth, heart, blood, tears, gut, beard

Mechanical-Sounding Words

cog, fuse, sprocket, wrench, screw, nail, bolt, lever, pulley, spanner, gear, spring, shaft, switch, button, cast, pipe, plug, dial, meter, nozzle, cord, brake, gauge, coil, oil, signal, wire, fluke, staple, clamp, bolt, nut, bulb, patch, pump, cable, socket

torque, force, sonic, spark, fizzle, thermal, beam, laser, steam, buzz, mega, mecha, electro, telsa, power, flicker, charge, current, flow, tinker

Atmospheric Words

Unpleasant, Dangerous, Threatening

(nouns) death, fury, battle, scar, shadow, razor, nightmare, wrath, bone, splinter, peril, war, riptide, strife, reckoning, sorrow, terror, deadwood, nether, venom, grime, rage, void, conquest, pain, folly, revenge, horrid, mirk, shear, fathom, frenzy, corpselight/marshlight, reaper, gloom, doom, torment, torture, spite, grizzled, sludge, refuse, spore, carrion, fear, pyre, funeral, shade, beast, witch, grip, legion, downfall, ruin, plague, woe, bane, horde, acid, fell, grief, corpse, mildew, mold, miter, dirge

(adjectives) dead, jagged, decrepit, fallen, darkened, blackened, dire, grim, feral, wild, broken, desolate, mad, lost, under, stagnant, blistered, derelict, forlorn, unbound, sunken, fallow, shriveled, wayward, bleak, low, weathered, fungal, last, brittle, sleepy, -strewn, dusky, deserted, empty, barren, vacant, forsaken, bare, bereft, stranded, solitary, abandoned, discarded, forgotten, deep, abysmal, bottomless, buried, fathomless,unfathomable, diseased, plagued, virulent, noxious, venomous, toxic, fetid, revolting, putrid, rancid, foul, squalid, sullied, vile, blighted, vicious, ferocious, dangerous, savage, cavernous, vast, yawning, chasmal, echoing, dim, dingy, gloomy, inky, lurid, shaded, shadowy, somber, sunless, tenebrous, unlit, veiled, hellish, accursed, sulfurous, damned, infernal, condemned, doomed, wicked, sinister, dread, unending, spectral, ghostly, haunted, eldritch, unknown, weary, silent, hungry, cloven, acidic

(verb/adverbs): wither (withering / withered), skulk (skulking), whisper, skitter, chitter, sting, slither, writhe, gape, screech, scream, howl, lurk, roil, twist, shift, swarm, spawn, fester, bleed, howl, shudder, shrivel, devour, swirl, maul, trip, smother, weep, shatter, ruin, curse, ravage, hush, rot, drown, sunder, blister, warp, fracture, die, shroud, fall, surge, shiver, roar, thunder, smolder, break, silt, slide, lash, mourn, crush, wail, decay, crumble, erode, decline, reek, lament, taint, corrupt, defile, poison, infect, shun, sigh, sever, crawl, starve, grind, cut, wound, bruise, maim, stab, bludgeon, rust, mutilate, tremble, stumble, fumble, clank, clang

Pleasant, Safe, Neutral

(nouns) spirit, luck, soul, oracle, song, sky, smile, rune, obelisk, cloud, timber, valor, triumph, rest, dream, thrall, might, valiance, glory, mirror, life, hope, oath, serenity, sojourn, god, hearth, crown, throne, crest, guard, rise, ascent, circle, ring, twin, vigil, breath, new, whistle, grasp, snap, fringe, threshold, arch, cleft, bend, home, fruit, wilds, echo, moonlight, sunlight, starlight, splendor, vigilance, honor, memory, fortune, aurora, paradise, caress

(adjectives) gentle, pleasant, prosperous, peaceful, sweet, good, great, mild, grand, topic, lush, wild, abundant, verdant, sylvan, vital, florid, bosky, callow, verdurous, lucious, fertile, spellbound, captivating, mystical, hidden, arcane, clandestine, esoteric, covert, cryptic, runic, otherworldly, touched, still, fair, deep, quiet, bright, sheer, tranquil, ancient, light, far, -wrought, tidal, royal, shaded, swift, true, free, high, vibrant, pure, argent, hibernal, ascendant, halcyon, silken, bountiful, gilded, colossal, massive, stout, elder, -bourne, furrowed, happy, merry, -bound, loud, lit, silk, quiet, bright, luminous, shining, burnished, glossy, brilliant, lambent, lucent, lustrous, radiant, resplendent, vivid, vibrant, illuminated, silvery, limpid, sunlit, divine, sacred, holy, eternal, celestial, spiritual, almighty, anointed, consecrated, exalted, hallowed, sanctified, ambrosial, beatific, blissful, demure, naked, bare, ample, coy, deific, godly, omnipotent, omnipresent, rapturous, sacramental, sacrosanct, blessed, majestic, iridescent, glowing, overgrown, dense, hard, timeless, sly, scatter, everlasting, full, half, first, last

(verb/adverbs) arch (arching / arched), wink (winking), sing, nestle, graze, stroll, roll, flourish, bloom, bud, burgeon, live, dawn, hide, dawn, run, pray, wake, laugh, wake, glimmer, glitter, drift, sleep, tumble, bind, arch, blush, grin, glister, beam, meander, wind, widen, charm, bewitch, enthrall, entrance, enchant, allure, beguile, glitter, shimmer, sparkle twinkle, crest, quiver, slumber, herald, shelter, leap, click, climb, scuttle, dig, barter, chant, hum, chime, kiss, flirt, tempt, tease, play, seduce

Generic “Fantasy-Sounding” Word Parts

A - D

aaz, ada, adaer, adal, adar, adbar, adir, ae, ael, aer, aern, aeron, aeryeon, agar, agis, aglar, agron, ahar, akan, akyl, al, alam, alan, alaor, ald, alea, ali, alir, allyn, alm, alon, alor, altar, altum, aluar, alys, amar, amaz, ame, ammen, amir, amol, amn, amus, anar, andor, ang, ankh, ar, ara, aram, arc, arg, arian, arkh, arla, arlith, arn, arond, arthus, arum, arvien, ary, asha, ashyr, ask, assur, aster, astra, ath, athor, athra, athryn, atol, au, auga, aum, auroch, aven, az, azar, baal, bae, bael, bak, bal, balor, ban, bar, bara, barr, batol, batar, basir, basha, batyr, bel, belph, belu, ben, beo, bere, berren, berun, besil, bezan, bhaer, bhal, blask, blis, blod, bor, boraz, bos, bran, brath, braun, breon, bri, bry, bul, bur, byl, caer, cal, calan, cara, cassa, cath, cela, cen, cenar, cerul, chalar, cham, chion, cimar, clo, coram, corel, corman, crim, crom, daar, dach, dae, dago, dagol, dahar, dala, dalar, dalin, dam, danas, daneth, dannar, dar, darian, darath, darm, darma, darro, das, dasa, dasha, dath, del, delia, delimm, dellyn, delmar, delo, den, dess, dever, dhaer, dhas, dhaz, dhed, dhin, din, dine, diar, dien, div, djer, dlyn, dol, dolan, doon, dora, doril, doun, dral, dranor, drasil, dren, drian, drien, drin, drov, druar, drud, duald, duatha, duir, dul, dulth, dun, durth, dyra, dyver,

E - H

ea, eber, eden, edluk, egan, eiel, eilean, ejen, elath, eld, eldor, eldra, elith emar, ellesar, eltar, eltaran, elth, eltur, elyth, emen, empra, emril, emvor, ena, endra, enthor, erad, erai, ere, eriel, erith, erl, eron, erre, eryn, esk, esmel, espar, estria, eta, ethel, eval, ezro, ezan, ezune, ezil, fael, faelar, faern, falk, falak, farak, faril, farla, fel, fen, fenris, fer, fet, fin, finar, forel, folgun, ful, fulk, fur, fyra, fallon, gael, gach, gabir, gadath, gal, galar, gana, gar, garth, garon, garok, garne, gath, geir, gelden, geren, geron, ghal, ghallar, ghast, ghel, ghom, ghon, gith, glae, glander, glar, glym, gol, goll, gollo, goloth, gorot, gost, goth, graeve, gran, grimm, grist, grom, grosh, grun, grym, gual, guil, guir, gulth, gulur, gur, gurnth, gwaer, haa, hael, haer, hadar, hadel, hakla, hala, hald, halana, halid, hallar, halon, halrua, halus, halvan, hamar, hanar, hanyl, haor, hara, haren, haresk, harmun, harrokh, harrow, haspur, haza, hazuth, heber, hela, helve, hem, hen, herath, hesper, heth, hethar, hind, hisari, hjaa, hlath, hlond, hluth, hoarth, holtar, horo, hotun, hrag, hrakh, hroth, hull, hyak, hyrza

I - M

iibra, ilth, ilus, ilira, iman, imar, imas, imb, imir, immer, immil, imne, impil, ingdal, innar, ir, iriae, iril, irith, irk, irul, isha, istis, isil, itala, ith, ithal, itka, jada, jae, jaeda, jahaka, jala, jarra, jaro, jath, jenda, jhaamm, jhothm, jinn, jinth, jyn, kado, kah, kal, kalif, kam, kana, kara, karg, kars, karth, kasp, katla, kaul, kazar, kazr, kela, kelem, kerym, keth, keva, kez, kezan, khaer, khal, khama, khaz, khara, khed, khel, khol, khur, kil, kor, korvan, koll, kos, kir, kra, kul, kulda, kund, kyne, lae, laen, lag, lan, lann, lanar, lantar, lapal, lar, laran, lareth, lark, lath, lauth, lav, lavur, lazar, leih, leshyr, leth, lhaza, lhuven, liad, liam, liard, lim, lin, lirn, lisk, listra, lith, liya, llair, llor, lok, lolth, loran, lorkh, lorn, loth, lothen, luen, luir, luk, lund, lur, luth, lyndus, lyra, lyth, maal, madrasm maera, maer, maerim, maes, mag, magra, mahand, mal, malar, mald, maldo, mar, mara, mark, marl, maru, maruk, meir, melish, memnon, mer, metar, methi, mhil, mina, mir, miram, mirk, mista, mith, moander, mok, modir, modan, mon, monn, mor, more, morel, moril, morn, moro, morrow, morth, mort, morum, morven, muar, mul, mydra, myr, myra, myst

N - S

naar, nadyra, naedyr, naga, najar, nal, naal, nalir, nar, naruk, narbond, narlith, narzul, nasaq, nashkel, natar, nath, natha, neir, neth, nether, nhall, nikh, nil, nilith, noan, nolvurm nonthal, norda, noro, novul, nul, nur, nus, nyan, nyth, ober, odra, oghr, okoth, olleth, olodel, omgar, ondath, onthril, ordul, orish, oroch, orgra, orlim, ormath, ornar, orntath, oroch, orth, orva, oryn, orzo, ostel, ostor, ostrav, othea, ovar, ozod, ozul, palan, palad, pae, peldan, pern, perris, perim, pele, pen, phail, phanda, phara, phen, phendra, pila, pinn, pora, puril, pur, pyra, qadim, quar, quel, ques, quil, raah, rael, ran, ranna, rassil, rak, rald, rassa, reddan, reith, relur, ren, rendril, resil, reska, reth, reven, revar, rhy, rhynn, ria, rian, rin, ris, rissian, rona, roch, rorn, rora, rotha, rual, ruar, ruhal, ruil, ruk, runn, rusk, ryn, saa, saar, saal, sabal, samar, samrin, sankh, sar, sarg, sarguth, sarin, sarlan, sel, seld, sember, semkh, sen, sendrin, septa, senta, seros, shaar, shad, shadra, shae, shaen, shaera, shak, shalan, sham, shamath, shan, shana, sharan, shayl, shemar, shere, shor, shul, shyll, shyr, sidur, sil, silvan, sim, sintar, sirem, skar, skell, skur, skyr, sokol, solan, sola, somra, sor, ssin, stel, strill, suldan, sulk, sunda, sur, surkh, suth, syl, sylph, sylune, syndra, syth

T - Z

taak, taar, taer, tah, tak, tala, talag, talar, talas, talath, tammar, tanar, tanil, tar, tara, taran, tarl, tarn, tasha, tath, tavil, telar, teld, telf, telos, tempe, tethy, tezir, thaar, thaer, thal, thalag, thalas, thalan, thalar, thamor, thander, thangol, thar, thay, thazal, theer, theim, thelon, thera, thendi, theril, thiir, thil, thild, thimir, thommar, thon, thoon, thor, thran, thrann, threl, thril, thrul, thryn, thuk, thultan, thume, thun, thy, thyn, thyr, tir, tiras, tirum, tohre, tol, tolar, tolir, tolzrin, tor, tormel, tormir, traal, triel, trith, tsath, tsur, tul, tur, turiver, turth, tymor, tyr, uder, udar, ugoth, uhr, ukh, ukir, uker, usten, ulgarth, ulgoth, ultir, ulur, umar, umath, umber, unara, undro, undu, untha, upir, ur, ursa, ursol, uron, uth, uthen, uz, van, vaar, vaelan, vaer, vaern, val valan, valash, vali, valt, vandan, vanede, vanrak, var, varyth, vassa, vastar, vaunt, vay, vel, velar, velen, velius, vell, velta, ven, veren, vern, vesper, vilar, vilhon, vintor, vir, vira, virdin, volo, volun, von, voon, vor, voro, vos, vosir, vosal, vund, war, wara, whel, wol, wynn, wyr, wyrm, xer, xul, xen, xian, yad, yag, yal, yar, yath, yeon, yhal, yir, yirar, yuir, yul, yur, zail, zala, zalhar, zan, zanda, zar, zalar, zarach, zaru, zash, zashu, zemur, zhent, zim, ziram, zindala, zindar, zoun, zul, zurr, zuth, zuu, zym

A lot of places are named after historical events, battles, and people, so keep that in mind. God/Goddess names tied to your world also work well. Places are also often named after things that the area is known for, like Georgia being known for its peaches.

My brain was fried by the end of this so feel free to add more!

I hope you find this reference helpful and good luck world-building!

-Mel

#worldbuilding #d&d #dnd #writing resources #fantasy #word list #dungeons and dragons

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years ago

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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Nine: Folk Singer ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uchiha Itachi ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Divine Light ] [ AO3 Link ]

They’ve been on the road for nearly a week without respite. And while Sasuke has no qualms about roughing it out of doors, he has concern for his brother’s condition. After all, despite having a light mage with them...he’s not yet been fully cured. While she has the inner talents for it...she lacks the knowledge to truly apply it.

Hence the hare-brained quest to make it back to the abandoned capital of her people to find - or so they hope - the proper information to heal him completely. Until then, she’s using what she’s learned by trial and error over the years to keep him stable...but the travel is wearing on him. It’s easy enough to tell.

“One night’s stay isn’t going to be enough,” he insists the evening before they’re set to enter the next town on their route. “We have to take at least two in order to let him recover properly.”

“...I’ve no issue with that,” is her reply. “We can balance a good pace with proper rest. For now, I’ve managed his symptoms well enough. A few days’ break from our journey won’t hinder us in the grand scheme of things.”

“Good. And...don’t tell him it was my idea. He’ll only insist otherwise.”

She gives a small, knowing smile. “I’d guessed well enough. Should it come from his healer’s lips, he’ll surely listen.”

Satisfied, he retires to a place by the fire he’s started with his own fire energy. Part of him is still wary of that woman...even if he can’t precisely name why.

Coming up from nearby, Hinata puts a stopper in her waterskin. “There...that should last until we get to town tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry about it too much - we’ll be staying in town a few days.”

That earns a blink. “...really?”

“Itachi needs a break - light mage’s orders.” Might as well lay it on for her sake, too.

“...oh! Well, that’s good...maybe we can pick up some supplies. Do some trading, or...m-maybe find some small jobs while we’re there for some coin.”

“So long as we’re careful. Don’t need to stir up any trouble. Not every city is friendly to our kinds, remember?”

“I know,” she replies softly, sitting beside him. “But people will pay for the convenience of ven. You just have to know who’s sincere, and who would turn you in.”

“And that’s not always so easy to see.”

“True...but something simple, just for a few gold, wouldn’t hurt.”

“Mm…” Sasuke doesn’t agree either way. He’d rather just lay low and rest...but she has a point. True, he can hunt well enough...and her skills mean never running out of water. But a few basic supplies and comforts they can come across while still back in civilization certainly wouldn’t hurt.

Maybe even just something simple...like those sweets his brother has always liked. Sasuke’s always been the sort to spoil his elder brother. Perhaps a bit backwards, but...given their difference in health, it’s to be expected.

He takes first watch, the night quiet as the rest of his party sleeps. Itachi gave no argument to the light mage’s insistence he rest, and Sasuke breathes a quiet sigh of relief. Some respite from the road and saddle will do him good. Let him regather some energy and spirit before they take the next leg of their journey.

Hinata takes the second half of the night, and they all rise come sunup. Tearing down camp as they’re by now well-practiced, the group saddle and mount their horses before continuing down the path.

By noon, the city’s in sight. A humble place, but clearly of decent size. They soon merge into traffic of carts and other riders all looking to get to the same place.

“Feels like it’s been forever since we’ve been in town,” Hinata notes. “Especially one like this!”

“A welcome break,” Sasuke agrees, looking to the tiered stone walls. It looks decently fortified, swaths of land having been cleared for several acres to make farmland from what was once forest. They pass through farms first before arriving to the city proper.

Hoods on, they pass with the rest of the traveling crowds without problem. Sasuke can sense a few others like them - those with far brighter, colored auras than the blessless mor around them.

Immediately, they’re swept into the bustle of town. They pull to one side to reorganize.

“We’ll find an inn, first - lay claim to some rooms, then see about resupplying. Otherwise...I suppose we’re all free to do what we must until we’re rested. Just take care not to draw undue attention. Last I heard, this place is fairly tolerant of elves...but best to be cautious. Keep your heads down, and we’ll take our leave without any trouble.”

The party all nod, heading further in. Clearly a town of trade, finding an inn with rooms to spare takes until late afternoon, stabling their mounts and finding two rooms: one for each pair of men and women.

“I’d best tend to Itachi for a time. Would you two mind scoping out some supplies? I’m sure you know well enough by now what to look for. Otherwise...you’ve the evening to yourselves!”

Sasuke nods, heading out with Hinata into the streets. Markets are busy, but they replace worn cloaks and lacking foodstuffs, ensuring they have what they need before leaving in the following days.

“...oh!”

Turning as Hinata pauses, Sasuke perks a brow. “...what?”

“Do you hear that?”

“...hear what?”

“Music!”

Before he can clarify, she walks briskly in another direction, forcing him to follow as not to be separated. They both know their inn, but best to remain together.

In a square not far, seated along the rim of a fountain, is what appears to be a bard. One leg atop the other, umber hair twisted into two piled braids atop her head, she strums a loot and sings heartily to the crowds. Several have stopped to listen...and a few even make to dance.

“Look! A folksinger!”

“...what?”

“They sing traditional songs! You know, like auditory history. Tales of battles and sieges, and other events. They turn it into s-song, and keep traditions. It’s easier to remember when set to music and rhyme. I know a few, but...well, I’m not one to sing.”

Sasuke eyes the gathering a bit warily. It seems jovial enough...but he’s not eager to attract attention to themselves. “...do you want to sit and listen?”

“Can we?”

“So long as we’re still and quiet.”

Only lightly burdened, the pair find a nearby bench, perching atop it to take in the sounds for a time. Sasuke knows none of the words, or even the tales told, but he patiently takes it in. While he’s studied plenty by scroll and tome...there’s something pleasant about a history lesson set to rhythm and rhyme.

Beside him, nodding in time, Hinata smiles and listens attentively. At one point, he sees her mouth along, familiar with whatever particular ballad is sung.

...he almost wishes she’d sing. Something tells him she must have a beautiful voice.

Between songs, the bard gives smiles and nods of thanks as spare coppers and silvers are given into a chipped wooden bucket.

“...do you think it safe to give her some?”

Sasuke glances to his companion. “...I can think of better ways to spend our coin.”

“But we’ve sat and enjoyed her craft! She should be rewarded for her talent, and the work she gives it.” Making up her mind, Hinata rises despite Sasuke’s momentary rebuke.

In the end he relents (it’s not like he can ever stop her once she’s made up her mind), watching as she gives the tip and even a curtsy to the musician. The woman smiles and laughs in turn, bowing in return as best she can over the instrument in her lap.

Around Hinata, several kids take to dancing as the music starts up once more. Amused, Sasuke watches as they weave to and fro, making the path back a bit laborious. But eventually she makes it, sitting with a breathless laugh. “Well...this has been fun! I can’t remember the last time I got to hear music…”

“Maybe we need a bard in our party,” Sasuke muses, earning a soft snort.

“I think we’re crowded as it is. As grand as our adventure is...I don’t think it yet w-worthy of song.”

“Not yet, perhaps...but maybe someday.”

“Maybe someday.”

With that, the pair make their way back to the inn as evening falls. The rest of their party is down in the belly of the inn eating, and they quickly join them.

“Have a good romp through the city?” Itachi asks, and Sasuke is glad to find him already brighter-eyed.

“Aye. Stopped and listened to a bard for a time...and I think we’ve all we need.”

“Well, we’ll be here until the morn after next - we’ve time to make sure nothing is missed.”

With full bellies, they retire to their rooms: the women to one, the men to another. “Goodnight,” they all call, shutting doors and getting ready to sleep.

“Did you know any of the bard’s songs?” Itachi asks once tucked into bed.

“No...I’ve no talent for music, nor interest. But Hinata seemed to recognize one or two.”

“She seems the sort, yes. Perhaps we can see if she is there again tomorrow, this bard. I’d like to sit and listen for a time, enjoy the sun…”

“I’m sure we can.”

“Perhaps you can have a dance,” the elder brother mumbles, clearly slipping into sleep.

Perking a brow, Sasuke doesn’t answer. In truth...he did consider it...but, well...maybe tomorrow.

.oOo.

Oooof it's late, so I'll be brief~ More crossover with my original fantasy verse! This time we find our heroes having a bit of a break. Poor Itachi needs it. And at least the rest can also benefit from a little time off the road. A little music always helps rejuvenate the soul~ But yeah, on that note...I need sleep, lol - thanks for reading!

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #uchiha itachi #divine light [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

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vikinglanguage · 6 years ago

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625 basic words in Danish

The words themselves are all from this blogpost, so feel free to make your own version in whatever language! (I also might’ve added in a few, ooops)

This post is very very long and will be under a cut. Please keep in mind that I am a human person and there might be some mistakes and typos.

Note: The abbreviations “fk.” and “itk.” indicate grammatical gender, common (fælleskøn, “en”) and neuter (intetkøn, “et”).

Animals dog – hund, fk. cat – kat, fk. fish – fisk, fk. bird – fugl, fk. cow – ko, fk. pig – gris, fk. mouse – mus, fk. horse – hest, fk. wing – vinge, fk. animal – dyr, itk.

Transportation train – tog, itk. plane – fly, itk. · flyvemaskine, fk. · flyver, fk. car – bil, fk. truck – lastbil, fk. bicycle – cykel, fk. bus – bus, fk. boat – båd, fk. ship – skib, itk. tire – hjul, itk. gasoline – benzin, fk. engine – motor, fk. ticket – billet, fk. transportation – transport, fk.

Location city – by, fk. · storby, fk. (lit. “big-city”) house – hus, itk. apartment/flat – lejlighed, fk. street/road – vej, fk. · gade, fk. airport – lufthavn, fk. train station – togstation, fk. bridge – bro, fk. hotel – hotel, itk. restaurant – restaurant, fk. farm – gård, fk. · bondegård, fk. court (of law) – domstol, fk. · (lands-/by-)ret, fk. school – skole, fk. office – kontor, itk. room – værelse, itk. · rum, itk. town – by, fk. · landsby, fk. university – universitet, itk. club – klub, fk. · diskotek, itk. bar – bar, fk. park – park, fk. camp – lejr, fk. store/shop – butik, fk. · forretning, fk. theatre – teater, itk. library – bibliotek, itk. hospital – hospital, itk. · sygehus, itk. church – kirke, fk. market – marked, itk. country (USA, France, etc.) – land, itk. building – bygning, fk. ground – jord, fk. space (outer space) – rummet · det ydre rum bank – bank, fk. location – placering, fk. – lokation, fk.

Clothing hat – hat, fk. dress – kjole, fk. suit – jakkesæt, itk. skirt – nederdel, fk. shirt – skjorte, fk. T-shirt – t-shirt, fk. pants – bukser, fk. pl. (you can say “en buks” if you’re in the fashion industry or weird) shoe – sko, fk. pocket – lomme, fk. coat – frakke, fk. stain – plet, fk. clothing – tøj, itk. pl.

Colours red – rød green – grøn blue – blå yellow – gul brown – brun pink – lyserød · pink orange – orange black – sort white – hvid gray – grå light – lys · lyse- (eg. lyseblå, lysegrøn) dark – mørk · mørke- (see above) colour – farve, fk.

People son – søn, fk. daughter – datter, fk. mother – mor, fk. · moder, fk. (mostly outdated) father – far, fk. – fader, fk. (mostly outdated) parent – forælder, fk. baby – baby, fk. · spædbarn, itk. man – mand, fk. woman – kvinde, fk. brother – bror, fk. · broder, fk. (mostly outdated) sister – søster, fk. sibling – søskende, fk. pl. family – familie, fk. grandfather – bedstefar, fk. · morfar, fk. (maternal grandpa) · farfar, fk. (paternal grandpa) grandmother – bedstemor, fk. · mormor, fk. · farmor, fk. husband – mand, fk. · ægtemand, fk. wife – hustru, fk. · ægtehustru, fk. · viv, fk. · kone, fk. spouse – ægtefælle, fk. king – konge, fk. queen – dronning, fk. president – præsident, fk. neighbour – nabo, fk. · næste, fk. (biblical) boy – dreng, fk. girl – pige, fk. child – barn, itk. adult – voksen, fk. human – menneske, itk. friend – ven, fk. (gender neutral or male) · veninde, fk. (female) victim – offer, itk. player – spiller, fk. fan – fan, fk. crowd – menneskemængde, fk. · publikum, itk. (audience) person – person, fk.

Job teacher – lærer, fk. student – elev, fk. · studerende, fk. lawyer – advokat, fk. doctor – læge, fk. · doktor, fk. patient – patient, fk. waiter – tjener, fk. secretary – sekretær, fk. priest – præst, fk. police – politimand, fk. (male) · politikvinde, fk. (female) army – hær, fk. soldier – soldat, fk. artist – kunstner, fk. author – forfatter, fk. manager – manager, fk. reporter – journalist, fk. · reporter, fk. actor – skuespiller, fk. job – arbejde, itk. · job, itk.

Society religion – religion, fk. heaven – himmel, fk. · Himlen hell – helvede itk. · Helvede death – død, fk. · Døden medicine – medicin, fk. money – penge, pl. dollar – dollar, fk. bill – seddel, fk. · pengeseddel, fk. marriage – ægteskab, itk. wedding – bryllup, itk. team – hold, itk. · team, itk. race – race, fk. ethnicity – etnicitet, fk. sex (the act) – sex, fk. sex (gender)* – køn, itk. murder – mord, itk. prison – fængsel, itk. technology – teknologi, fk. energy – energi, fk. war – krig, fk. peace – fred, fk. attack – angreb, itk. election – valg, itk. magazine – magasin, itk. · blad, itk. newspaper – avis, fk. poison – gift, fk. gun – pistol, fk. sport – sport, fk. race (sport) – løb, itk. exercise – motion, fk. ball – bold, fk. game – spil, itk. · leg, fk. price – pris, fk. contract – kontrakt, fk. drug – stof, itk. sign – skilt, itk. (like a road sign) science – videnskab, fk. God – Gud *I want to make it clear that I do not believe that gender and sex are the same, however they are the same word in Danish

Art band – band, itk. · orkester, itk. (technically orchestra) song – sang, fk. instrument (musical) – instrument, itk. · musikinstrument, itk. music – musik, fk. movie – film, fk. art – kunst, fk.

Beverages coffee – kaffe, fk. tea – te, fk. · the, fk. (unofficial, but very common spelling) wine – vin, fk. beer – øl, fk. juice – juice, fk. · saft, fk. water – vand, itk. milk – mælk, fk. beverage – drik, fk. · drikkevare, fk.

Food egg – æg, itk. cheese – ost, fk. bread – brød, itk. soup – suppe, fk. cake – kage, fk. chicken – kylling, fk. pork – svin, itk. · svinekød, itk. beef – okse, itk. · oksekød, itk. apple – æble, itk. banana – banan, fk. orange – appelsin, fk. lemon – citron, fk. corn – majs, fk. rice – ris, itk. oil – olie, fk. seed – frø, itk. knife – kniv, fk. spoon – ske, fk. fork – gaffel, fk. plate – tallerken, fk. cup – glas, itk. · kop, fk. breakfast – morgenmad, fk. lunch – frokost, fk. dinner – aftensmad, fk. · middag, fk. sugar – sukker, itk. salt – salt, itk. bottle – flaske, fk. food – mad, fk.

Home table – bord, itk. chair – stol, fk. bed – seng, fk. dream – drøm, fk. window – vindue, itk. door – dør, fk. bedroom – soveværelse, itk. kitchen – køkken, itk. bathroom – badeværelse, itk. · toilet, itk. pencil – blyant, fk. pen – kuglepen, fk. · pen, fk. photograph – fotografi, itk. · foto, itk. · billede, itk. soap – sæbe, fk. book – bog, fk. page – side, fk. key – nøgle, fk. paint – maling, fk. letter – brev, itk. note – note, fk. wall – væg, fk. paper – papir, itk. floor – gulv, itk. ceiling – loft, itk. roof – tag, itk. pool – pool, fk. · swimmingpool, fk. · pøl, fk. · svømmepøl, fk. · bassin, itk · svømmebassin, itk. · badebassin, itk. (specifically and inflatable pool) lock – lås, fk. telephone – telefon, fk. garden – have, fk. yard – have, fk. needle – nål, fk. bag – taske, fk. · pose, fk. box – kasse, fk. · boks, fk. gift – gave, fk. card – kort, itk. ring – ring, fk. tool – værktøj, itk.

Electronics clock – ur, itk. lamp – lampe, fk. fan – ventilator, fk. cell phone – mobil, fk · mobiltelefon, fk. network – netværk, itk. computer – computer, fk. · EDB-maskine, fk. (use this if you’re like 80 years old) program (computer) – program, itk. · computerprogram, itk. laptop – bærbar, fk. · bærbar computer, fk. · laptop, fk. screen – skærm, fk. camera – kamera, itk. · fotografiapparat, itk. (again, great if you’re 80) television – fjernsyn, itk. · TV, itk. radio – radio, fk.

Body head – hoved, itk. neck – nakke, fk. · hals, fk, (technically “throat”, but if you’re talking THE ENTIRE neck area you should use hals) face – ansigt, itk. beard – skæg, itk. hair – hår, itk. eye – øje, itk. mouth – mund, fk. lip – læbe, fk. nose – næse, fk. tooth – tand, fk. ear – øre, itk. tear (drop) – tåre, fk. tongue – tunge, fk. back – ryg, fk. toe – tå, fk. finger – finger, fk. foot – food, fk. hand – hånd, fk. leg – ben, itk. arm – arm, fk. shoulder – skulder, fk. heart – hjerte, itk. blood – blod, itk. brain – hjerne, fk. knee – knæ, itk. sweat – sved, fk. disease – sygdom, fk. bone – knogle, fk. · ben, itk. voice – stemme, fk. skin – hud, fk. body – krop, fk.

Nature sea – hav, itk. ocean – hav, itk. · ocean, itk. river – flod, fk. mountain – bjerg, itk. rain – regn, fk. snow – sne, fk. tree – træ, itk. sun – sol, fk. moon – måne, fk. world – verden, fk. Earth – Jorden forest – skov, fk. sky – himmel, fk. plant – plante, fk. wind – vind, fk. soil/earth – jord, fk. flower – blomst, fk. valley – dal, fk. root – rod, fk. lake – sø, fk. star – stjerne, fk. grass – græs, itk. leaf – blad, itk. air – luft, fk. sand – sand, itk. beach – strand, fk. wave – bølge, fk. fire – ild, fk. · bål, itk. (like a bonfire) · brand, fk. (the kind that firefighters put out) ice – is, fk. island – ø, fk. hill – bakke, fk. · høj, fk. heat – varme, fk. · hede, fk. nature – natur, fk.

Materials glass – glas, itk. metal – metal, itk. plastic – plastik, fk. wood – træ, itk. stone – sten, fk. diamond – diamant, fk. clay – ler, itk. dust – støv, itk. gold – guld, itk. copper – kobber, itk. silver – sølv, itk. material – materiale, itk.

Math/Measurements meter – meter, fk. centimeter – centimeter, fk. kilogram – kilo, itk. · kilogram, itk. inch – tomme, fk. foot – fod, fk. pound – pund, itk. half – halv circle – cirkel, fk. square – firkant, fk. · kvadrat, itk. temperature – temperatur, fk. date – dato, fk. weight – vægt, fk. edge – kant, fk. corner – hjørne, itk.

Misc Nouns map – kort, itk. dot – prik, fk. · punktum, itk. (punctuation) consonant – konsonant, fk. vowel – vokal, fk. light – let (weight, adj.) · lys, itk. (illuminating, noun) sound – lyd, fk. yes – ja no – nej piece – stykke, itk. pain – smerte, fk. injury – skade, fk. hole – hul, itk. image – billede, itk. pattern – mønster, itk. noun – navneord, itk. · substantiv, itk. verb – udsagnsord, itk. · verbum, itk. adjective – tillægsord, itk. · adjektiv, itk.

Directions top – top, fk. bottom – bund, fk. side – side, fk. front – forside, fk. · foran back – bagside, fk. · bagved outside – udenfor · udendørs inside – indenfor · indendørs up – op down – ned left – venstre right – højre straight – ligeud · lige north – nord south – syd east – øst west – vest direction – retning

Seasons summer – sommer, fk. spring – forår, itk. winter – vinter, fk. fall – efterår, itk. season – årstid, fk. (of the year) · sæson, fk. (of a show)

Numbers 0 – nul 1 – en · et 2 – to 3 – tre 4 – fire 5 – fem 6 – seks 7 – syv 8 – otte 9 – ni 10 – ti 11 – elleve 12 – tolv 13 – tretten 14 – fjorten 15 – femten 16 – seksten 17 – sytten 18 – atten 19 – nitten 20 – tyve 21 – enogtyve (one-and-twenty) 22 – toogtyve 30 – tredive 31 – enogtredive 32 – toogtredive 40 – fyrre · fyrretyve (outdated**) · firti (only for cheques) 41 – enogfyrre 42 – toogfyrre 50 – halvtreds · halvtredsindstyve (outdated**) · femti (cheques) 51 – enoghalvtreds 52 – tooghalvtreds 60 – tres · tresindstyve (outdated**) · seksti (cheques) 61 – enogtres 62 – toogtres 70 – halvfjerds · halvfjerdsindstyve (outdated**) · syvti (cheques) 71 – enoghalvfjerds 72 – tooghalvfjerds 80 – firs · firsindstyve (outdated**) · otti (cheques) 81 – enogfirs 82 – toogfirs 90 – halvfems · halvfemsindstyve (outdated**) · niti (cheques) 91 – enoghalvfems 92 – tooghalvfems 100 – hundred · hundrede · et hundred(e) 101 – (et) hundred(e) og et 102 – hundred og to 110 – hundred og ti 111 – hundred og elleve 1000 – tusind · tusinde · et tusind(e) 1001 – (et) tusind(e) og en 10000 – ti tusind(e) 100000 – hundred(e) tusind(e) million – million, fk. billion – milliard, fk. 1st – første · 1. (yes, with the “.”) 2nd – anden · 2. 3rd – trejde · 3. 4th – fjerde · 4. 5th – femte · 5. 6th – sjette · 6. 7th – syvende · 7. 8th – ottende · 8. 9th – niende – 9. 10th – tiende – 10. 11th – ellevte – 11. 12th – tolvte – 12. 13th – trettende – 13. 20th – tyvende 21st – enogtyvende 30th – tredivte 40th – fyrrende · fyrretyvende** 50th – halvtresende · halvtresindstyvende** 60th – tresende · tresindstyvende** 70th – halvfjerdsende · halvfjerdsindstyvende* 80th – firsende · firsindstyvende** 90th – halvfemsende · halvfemsindstyvende** 100th – hundrende 1000th – tusinde dozen – dusin, itk. score – snes, fk. number – tal, itk. · nummer, itk. **Frankly, I’ve added a lot (19, oops) of kind of unnecessary ordinal numbers, but I promise they do serve a purpose. While it is outdated to use “fyrretyve” for the cardinal number, it is however not uncommon to use “fyrretyvende” for the ordinal number 40th. If you want to know why Danish numbers are so weird, here’s a post.

Months January – januar*** February – februar March – marts April – april May – maj June – juni July – juli August – august September – september October – oktober November – november December – december ***In Danish months aren’t capitalised. Also if you REALLY want to assign them a gender, all months are fælleskøn.

Days of the week Monday – mandag**** Tuesday – tirsdag Wednesday – onsdag Thursday – torsdag Friday – fredag Saturday – lørdag Sunday – søndag weekday (Monday-Friday) – hverdag, fk. weekend (Saturday-Sunday) – weekend, fk. ****Days aren’t capitalised either. Again, if you’re really into grammatical genders, the days of the week are fælleskøn.

Time year – år, itk. month – måned, fk. week – uge, fk. day – dag, fk. hour – time, fk. minute – minut, itk. second – sekond, itk. morning – morgen, fk. afternoon – eftermiddag, fk. evening – aften, fk. night – nat, fk. time – tid, fk.

Verbs work – arbejde play – spille (things like sports-ball)· lege (kids’ games) walk – gå · spadsere run – løbe · spæne drive – køre fly – flyve swim – svømme go – There’s no direct translation for “go” in Danish. The closest would be “gå”, but that’s not very accurate. stop – stoppe · standse · holde · holde op follow – følge · efterfølge / følge efter think – tænke (the act of thinking) · synes (having an opinion) speak – tale say – sige eat – spise drink – drikke kill – dræbe die – dø smile – smile laugh – grine · le cry – græde buy – købe pay – betale sell – sælge shoot – skyde learn – lære***** jump – hoppe smell – lugte · dufte hear (a sound) – høre listen (music) – høre · lytte til taste – smage touch – røre · berøre see (a bird) – se watch (TV) – se · kigge på kiss – kysse burn – brænde melt – smelte dig – grave explode – eksplodere sit – sidde · sætte sig (sit down) stand – stå · rejse sig (stand up) love – elske pass by – passere · forbipassere cut – skære · klippe (with scissors) fight – kæmpe · slås lie down – lægge sig · lægge sig ned dance – danse sleep – sove wake up – vågne · vågne op sing – sove count – tælle marry – gifte sig pray – bede win – vinde lose – tabe (a game) · miste (losing an object) mix – blande stir – røre · røre rundt · røre rundt i · røre i bend – bøje wash – vaske cook – lave mad · kokkerere open – åbne close – lukke write – skrive call – ringe til · kalde på turn – dreje build – bygge teach – lære***** grow – gro · vokse · dyrke (the act of growing a plant) draw – tegne · trække (like in a lottery) feed – fodre · made catch – gribe throw – kaste clean – gøre rent · rengøre find – finde fall – falde push – skubbe pull – trække carry – bære break – ødelægge (I break the vase) · gå i stykker (the vase breaks) wear – have på hang – hænge shake – ryste · trykke (shake hands) sign – gøre tegn · gøre tegn til · underskrive (with a pen) · skrive under på (with a pen) beat – slå · tæske lift – løfte *****Learn and teach are in fact the same word in Danish, which is why you will often hear Danes say “I will learn you abt. smth.”

Adjectives long – lang short (vs long) – kort tall – høj short (vs tall) – lav wide – bred narrow – smal big/large – stor small/little – lille slow – langsom fast – hurtig hot – varm cold – kold warm – varm cool – kold · kølig · cool (character trait) · sej (character trait) new – ny old – gammel young – ung good – god bad – dårlig · skidt wet – våd dry – tør sick – syg healthy – rask · sund loud – høj quiet – lav happy – glad sad – trist · ked af det beautiful – smuk ugly – grim deaf – døv blind – blind nice – venlig mean – ubehagelig · dum rich – rig poor – fattig thick – tyk thin – tynd expensive – dyr cheap – billig flat – flad curved – kurvet male – mandlig female – kvindelig tight – stram loose – løs high – høj low – lav soft – blød hard – hård deep – dyb shallow – lav · overfladisk · snæver clean – ren dirty – beskidt strong – stærk weak – svag dead – død alive – levende heavy – tung light (vs heavy) – let dark – mørk light (vs dark) – lys nuclear – nuklear famous – berømt · famøs

Pronouns I – jeg you (singular) – du he – han she – hun it – den · det we – vi you (plural) – I (capital i) they – de

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icon0com · 6 years ago

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valasania-the-pale · 5 years ago

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The Last Rose - Chapter Two

Thank you to all of you who read the last chapter! Please enjoy chapter two :)

Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY, I’m just playing in the sandbox.

X_0_X

“You want to know what I’m afraid of, kiddo?” Her uncle softly blew out his flaming marshmallow before he answered her. Ruby wondered why his breath didn’t catch fire like before. “I’ll tell you what it is: it’s the same thing that every real huntsman or huntress will tell you they fear…”

She waited a few seconds; they were an eternity to her young mind.

“…Well?! Don’t be mean, Uncle Qrow! What is it?”

He barked a laugh. “It’s… That moment. The one where you realize that your luck has turned on you. The moment when things have gone to shit, the tide has turned, and the hunter has become the prey. It can happen on any mission, at any time, against any kind of enemy, and all huntsmen are guaranteed to have it happen at least once in their lives.”

Ruby nearly dropped her s’more, she was so bewildered. “Whaaa - But you’re all hoowah! and witchaa! and super cool with Harbinger and all! What could ever beat you?”

“Heh.” Qrow let his eyes close and a shadow passed over his face. Ruby frowned. “You’d be surprised. Even badasses like me get tired and distracted, even though we try not to make a habit out of it.”

Ruby tilted her head to the side. “Hmm. I think you’re just making excuses for getting old!”

“Hey!”

…

Of course, I later learned that in this, as with a lot of things, Uncle Qrow was telling the truth. I’m afraid of a lot of things, and I think he was too. But every huntsman will experience this fear at some point in their careers.

Suffice to say, I survived. Not everyone does.

Obviously.

X_0_X

A gentle rain pattered on the hull of the bullhead. It was a soothing counterpoint to the constant hum of the engines and pulsing sonar.

‘…known to encircle their prey before closing in with their pincers to crush armor and/or tear flesh. Collective intelligence estimated to be mid-to-low; they are known to leave carcasses desecrated in easily spotted locations, but only display rudimentary tactical abilities. Likely gained experience attacking smaller villages (See page 6 for details), but have yet to move beyond their preferred methods of psychological warfare…’

Ruby perused the detailed reports on her target, provided by various village scouts from southern Anima.

It was impressively comprehensive. While huntsmen were relied upon for most of the actual killing, many villages fielded small fighting forces that specialized in reconnaissance and ambush tactics in addition to their defensive garrisons. They would either provide huntsmen with the best information possible for their assignments, or they would take care of what they could through subterfuge and surprise.

It made jobs like this much simpler to prepare for. Instead of spending a week in the field simply tracking her target and getting a feel for their abilities, she started with relatively-fresh information on their location, preferred haunts, and the threat they posed.

Assuming the Grimm didn’t play up their habits for an advantage. Or change tactics abruptly when faced with a greater threat. Some of the craftier few had been known to take advantage of their species’ reputation for predictability.

‘…greatest threat is posed to Horikiri. Our village is well defended by the sheer cliffs on our eastern and western flanks, but cannot stand against a concentrated force for long, and we have few options for our outlying farms…’

The village was desperate, having already lost a family of five on the outskirts and two guards sent to repel another attack closer to the wall fencing them in. Ruby scowled, sorely regretting the delay in information. How many more had died since the report was sent?

‘…They are emboldened by their numbers. We have repelled their probes for several weeks, but the situation has quickly grown from routine to untenable…’

Ruby read through the last few pages, flicking back to review a few entries before she closed the report, tucking her scroll away in one of the many pouches on the belt of her huntress’ garb.

Defined by dark reds and blacks, her preferred style had changed little from her days at Beacon and the years following its fall. It would have been an insult to Crescent Rose if she shifted her look toward something that didn’t complement its menacing visage.

Her red cloak, worn, tattered, and given to her so long ago, rested comfortably across her shoulders, hood down to reveal the long braid she’d cultivated. Streaked red, her obsidian locks had been twisted into an efficient braid, pulled over her shoulder to rest on her chest.

Long hair had never been her ‘thing,’ but after so long living with it she’d come to appreciate it. The braid was a concession to how much it got in the way left loose; she’d never understood how her sis-

Locks shining gold like the sun flared behind a sun-streaked face, eyes burning RED in fury, sparking flames dancing amidst the curls, hands clenched in fists rose in readiness for combat, craving fire, blood, and PAIN.

Thump.

Ruby shied away from the line of thought furiously. She liked her hair the way it was. That was it. There was nothing else. She had an assignment to complete.

Suddenly craving comfort, Ruby pulled Crescent Rose closer to her, letting the familiar sound of sliding metal fill her ears as her baby unfolded itself into its fearsome scythe form.

Her fingers stroked across the cool metal, tracing all of the nicks and scars that covered her pride and joy; that made the work of art what it was. She could never bring herself to paint over the imperfections streaking it. It would be a lie, covering up the suffering it had gone through over all the years she and it had danced together. Her only concession had been to mend the gouges and dents that threatened to restrict the scythe’s transformation sequence if left alone.

Ruby ran her eyes along Crescent Rose’s length, seeking any of those flaws, fingers no longer affectionate but instead moving over the scythe’s length in search of the imperfections that would put them both in danger.

There were none, of course. Crescent Rose was maintained by her careful hands, after all. Not a day went by that she didn’t go over it, taking it slowly apart to make sure the insides were all in order, and sharpening the blade with her trusty whetstone…

She tapped the transformation switch, satisfied by the examination, and set Crescent Rose to the side.

Her hand dropped to her waist, resting on the soft hilt of her other weapon.

Heron, she’d taken to calling it in absence of any knowledge of what its previous owner had named it. If she had named it at all.

Ruby unsheathed it with a flourish, spinning it in her hand and refamiliarizing herself with its heft and balance. Lacking a pommel, it was unlike Harbinger, Crocea Mors, or any other sword she’d known; instead its grip simply extended to the end of the sword, capped off by a simple metal piece that Ruby had had to add herself.

Beyond that had once extended a long, prehensile wire to control and manipulate the blade, relieving her of the need to hold it personally in the first place.

The blade was irregular, a ramrod straight spine edged in three places, forming two distinctly triangular shapes to deliver death and pain to its victims. The hilt, circular and irregular like everything that was associated with the sword, proudly displayed the Atlesian ‘standby’ symbol, standard for all of their products…

It once glowed a vivid electric green, pulsing in time with its owner’s aura. Now it was a subdued velvety red, dark and broody against the black plate.

Ruby ran her finger along the blade, mindful of the razor-sharp edge the metal never seemed to lose. In all the years she’d carried it, it had never required sharpening, being smelted from some rare Atlesian alloy too expensive for even most huntsmen to incorporate into their own weapons.

‘Heron’ was – historically – the name of an eccentric hermit and ancient genius, known to experiment with all sorts of things, including the first conceptual automata… It had seemed fitting.

There were no imperfections on the blade. No scars, no nicks, no dents. It was perfect, like it always was, untouchable. In that way, it too was irregular. Just like its owner.

She flicked the activation switch she’d had to add to its design, swapping it into its pistol form and back again, and sheathed it. Ruby then tucked her hands under her arms, keenly feeling their chill all of a sudden…

…

Breathe.

…

Slowly, her fists loosened, and the tension drained from her shoulders. Her spine lost the steel that kept it stiff, and her jaw unclenched.

Breathe.

The moment past, and lacking anything else to do, Ruby leaned back in her seat with a sigh and began to mentally review the many potential scenarios she might encounter on the assignment, as well as tactics she could use to counter them.

It was an effective distraction.

X_0_X

Ruby landed on her feet, knees bending to distribute the force of the drop, hours later.

Above her head, the airship had already begun to pull away from the forest canopy, the pilots wary for any signs of approaching Grimm – especially Nevermore. It wasn’t unknown for the most daring individuals to attack lonely transport flights when they thought they could get away with it.

Thankfully, there wasn’t any snow for her to sink into for her to worry about this far south. Grateful for the higher temperature, Ruby dropped her hands to her waist, running her fingers along her supplies and mentally checking off everything.

Map. Pouches. Scroll. Crescent Rose. Heron. Pocket-knife. Canteen. All check.

Shifting the weight of her pack of supplies and equipment on her shoulders, and tightening the strap across her waist, Ruby nodded to herself. Everything was in order.

Her eyes darted across the area, noting the faint traces of Grimm still left over from the scouts’ original report a month prior. Bark scraped away from several large, passing bodies. Broken undergrowth growing back, a sign of nature reclaiming what had been stamped into the mud. But no footprints.

Recalling the weather reports from over the last few weeks, Ruby shook her head. Those would have washed away with the rains. The front that she’d moved through on the journey would have been here mere days, if not hours before.

There was something else of note, however. The slightest prickle of sensation, playing at her instincts and just barely tangible. Her eyes darted around the clearing, noting the absence of animal life, taking in the silence.

She was being watched.

It was far too quiet, the expected sounds of life amidst so much wilderness were muted and far away. Possibly because of the bullhead?

Ruby frowned, considering what he could do with the observation… before she compartmentalized the feeling. As a huntress she had learned to trust her instincts, but she had also learned not to stress too much in similar situations. Whatever was watching her was, at least for the moment, not a threat, and her assignment could be time sensitive.

Shooting the clearing a last, wary look, she began following the Deathstalkers’ trail, setting a familiar brisk pace she knew she could maintain all day with only minimal rest.

Behind her, a long, dark shape withdrew into its hollow beneath the dense undergrowth.

X_0_X

Sun was a fucking hypocrite, and he knew it.

Around him he could hear the sounds of his teammates as they puttered around their small home in the residential district of Mistral. The scrape of Sage’s chair against the floor as he made to bring the dishes from his morning meal to the sink. The fond bickering he and Scarlet partook in as they pushed and competed for space at the sink.

Distractions. There were too many. Always were.

…Don’t lie.

Externally he could make all the excuses he wanted, but he knew it wasn’t the noise that kept him awake right then, when he’d promised Ruby he’d be catching up on lost sleep. No.

Worry gnawed him. It wrestled away any semblance of control he had over his rest and held it above his head like a schoolyard bully.

When he’d shambled across the threshold, that morning, still shivering from the cold morning air, Scarlet’d taken one look at him and demanded he go straight to bed. No ifs, no buts, just firm command in his eyes.

Masculine pride demanded that Sun protest. He should have mocked his teammate for acting like a mother hen and plopped down on the couch for some good ol’ television. He should have ignored the disapproving glare and proved the defiance in his soul.

Instead, Sun had numbly accepted his teammate’s demand, kicked off his damp boots, and collapsed onto his soft mattress, lights flicking off behind him as Scarlet shut the door with a lingering look.

He was bone-tired. Insomnia was a bitch.

It had been a fairly good week, too. He’d snatched a few hours of rest each and every night and made his way through the day with relative ease. It was downright pleasant being able to interact with his team like a normal person. The mood around the house had lifted so much it was almost a tangible brightness in the air.

Then he’d gone to sleep and dreamt of Neptune, blue hair, style, cool-dude embodied. His brother in arms. His partner.

Gone.

Waking up with a panic attack was nothing new to him; it happened with depressing regularity, the short pulse-pounding episodes sending him to his feet to pace and massage his chest, desperately going through the motions of the breathing techniques that Ruby had coached him through dozens of times before, as he had with her.

She wasn’t there, this last time, either to get him through it or bring him down afterwards. It’d been Scarlet to find him on the couch in the morning, staring at the ceiling with bloodshot eyes and a deep frown on his face.

His expression? Empathetic. It always was. And he’d done everything he could to make Sun comfortable, which Sun appreciated. But it always lacked that final step of understanding he could find with Ruby...

Scarlet tried. Sage too. But they didn’t have the same problems with moving on that Sun and Ruby and gods-know-how-many-others dealt with. They were lucky like that. They knew what it was like, but they didn’t understand.

Sun shifted under his sheets, trying to find a new spot of coolness against his skin, to press the soles of his feet against. He was warm again – too warm. Outside, someone dropped a utensil. It clattered loudly, metallic against the granite countertop.

Ruby understood. Too well. Sun wished she didn’t.

Ruby was pure. She was good and kind and brave. And as her friend, Sun knew she also suffered far more than he did without her team beside her to support her through her mourning. They added to it instead.

He didn’t envy her. At his worst, he could barely stand the thought of his partner, but he knew that even at her best Ruby avoided those memories.

Just like Scarlet and Sage, he didn’t understand. He knew enough, just like she knew enough about his struggle, but it was never enough. He wasn’t the one she needed.

The only three with any hope of filling that role were lost to some Atlesian battlefield; the Valean memorial honoring every huntsman and fallen civilian from the conflict immortalizing their memory for everyone except the one who needed it the most.

He lifted his hands to rub at his eyes. They were so dry it felt like he was in Vacuo again, wiping away grit and dust and craving clean water. But just for his eyes. Every other part of him was either too hot or too cold. Never comfortable.

The bed creaked below him as he rolled over, jostling for some comfort.

He was a hypocrite. A fucking hypocrite, at that. He knew that he had drawn a promise from Ruby to get some sleep, to be safe, to come back home in one piece please, and he couldn’t do this one thing right when she asked him.

Useless.

Sun growled, frustrated, and rolled over again. Scarlet and Sage chatted outside – preparing to go out shopping for their assignment tomorrow.

He needed to fucking sleep, Dust damn it!

He was worried about Ruby. He knew he’d worked himself up to it last night, while Ruby had forced herself to get the sleep she needed for the day. In lieu of any real ability to rest himself, he’d tormented himself with the image of his friend alone in the forest, surrounded by Grimm. She was so strong, so talented, but there would always be a mistake. A misplaced foot, or perhaps the Grimm would have some crafty trick to pull, always something that would take her by surprise.

Red – not like roses, but scarlet like blood and all-too-prominent in those ghastly visions – and Sun would soon be on his feet, pacing away his anxiety. He’d work himself down, pull the sheets back over him and tuck his head between his pillows hoping that the wind would die down and give him some peace, but when that would fail he’d be at it again and the cycle would repeat itself, eating him alive.

If this had been years ago, before the Fall and the events that followed that would rip everything away from him (not Scarlet, not Sage, not Ruby, he reminded himself), Sun knew that Neptune would have been there to help him through the nights.

His partner would be there for him like he would be there for his partner. They were the best of friends, the closest of duos, complementing each other’s style and personality. The dream team could never die, nor succumb to weakness like this.

Except it had.

One half died, the other succumbed.

Weak.

‘Stop it man,’ Sun scolded himself suddenly, furious that he’d let his thoughts start down that road. ‘You’re better than this.’

The door outside opened and closed. Sun could hear his teammates’ conversation fade away beyond even his faunus-enhanced hearing, leaving him with the creak of the walls and the wind whirling by outside.

Sun squeezed his eyes shut. He was so tired…

Ruby…

‘You guys are all keeping an eye on her, right?’ he thought suddenly, willing his thoughts to reach the three people he knew were most likely to hear them. ‘Keep her safe, will you? So I don’t need to worry so much.’

Eyes opening to slits for a moment, he waited for an answer.

Nothing.

Of course, Sun sighed. Rolling again, he tried to make himself comfortable, hoping that his prayer would be heard.

X_0_X

The smoke led her here.

It could be smelled for miles, its presence sending spikes of worry up Ruby’s spine as she peered through Crescent Rose’s scope at the pack of Deathstalkers below. Their condition was hardly comforting.

Broken armor, shattered bones, reduced to six instead of the thirteen she’d been aware of, and nursing open wounds that bled the scarlet tar that passed for blood in Grimm. The pack was in shambles, and to someone of her experience it was obvious what had brought them so low. No huntsman could recreate the unrestricted savagery of some of the injuries she saw.

Her job had become much more complex, as it always did when Grimm got territorial with each other.

Such things were rare, since Grimm were usually more than happy to give each other the space they needed to survive. When it came to humans, however, they became unpredictable and deadly.

When they detected vulnerability, they might be found working together to overcome whatever defenses they encountered – prioritizing their lust for human suffering over whatever animal rivalries they held. But old, powerful Grimm were greedy. When they knew they could take a settlement alone, they would be vicious in their reprisal against interlopers, each violently protective of their kills.

Whatever ancient horror lashed out at this pack was powerful, and that boded very poorly for Horikiri and its people.

Which meant she had to be quick.

Crack!

Crescent Rose barked. The leader of the pack dropped to the ground instantly, skull beneath the bony shell of its head turning to a fine red paste as the dust round met its mark.

Utter silence fell for a split second as the remaining Grimm turned as one to look at their leader as it began to dissolve into black mist.

Crack!

Behind the jaw, in the chink where it its head flowed into the torso. The second Grimm sank to the ground and the remaining four spun to face Ruby in her perch, malevolent crimson eyes locking onto her with disturbing intensity.

Crack! Crack!

The third skidded on the ground as the two rounds pierced the two largest eyes, bypassing the plate guarding the rest of its head entirely. The surviving Deathstalkers were nearly on her position by then, however, so Ruby lowered Crescent Rose and tensed her legs for impact.

Crash-Snap!

The tree buckled beneath her. Ruby leapt, the world around her tinging scarlet as she blurred forward with her semblance. Everything slowed as she brought Crescent Rose around, twisting her body to take aim.

Crack!

Not a killing blow. The shot crippled the laggard of the group, thick blood erupting from the hole she’d punched into root of the only leg it wasn’t treating gingerly on its left side. The massive beast staggered, its weight suddenly too much to hold with the crippled limbs.

Crack!

Ruby landed in a deep crouch, knees bending to distribute the force of her fall, hastened by her shot’s recoil. Effortlessly, her finger tapped the transformation switch as she blurred forward, Crescent Rose unfolding into its full glory just as she came out of her semblance in a magnificent slide underneath its carapace. She drove the point of the blade into the Deathstalker’s softer underbelly, relishing in the agonized shriek she drew before it suddenly died, dissolving above her.

Slide right.

Crack!

Her feet skidded as another Grimm charged her former position, far too slow.

Forward!

The world blurred. She let her weight drop, the hardened, sun-dried earth of the clearing the perfect surface for her to repeat the tactic, sliding underneath and ripping open flesh with her baby.

The fifth Grimm died with a pathetic gurgle.

She pushed off with a hand on the ground, throwing her weight forward and distributing the momentum into a somersault. Ruby grinned viciously, blood pumping and adrenaline spiking high and natural for once as she finished on her feet, Crescent Rose glinting dangerously in the light behind her.

She felt alive, confident, deadly. Just like she was meant to be.

The single remaining Deathstalker held its distance warily, spitting at her in high-pitched whines and shrieks. This one obviously wasn’t stupid; it knew her now, having watched her pick apart its entire pack in mere seconds.

Her grin widened, all teeth. That just made it more fun.

Seconds passed, tense, all sound absent from their surroundings save for those made by the two combatants.

By some unspoken signal, the Deathstalker reared back and charged, deceptively quick on its short legs with its incredible bulk. Ruby’s grip tightened on Crescent Rose as she prepared to throw herself underneath it once more.

She moved.

Something grabbed her legs and she stumbled.

Her eyes widened in bewilderment as her center of balance disappeared, sending her crashing to the ground.

Thump.

Time slowed, and her eyes darted to her feet, breath hitching.

‘The hell?’

Two dark and resinous vines anchored her in place. They were absolutely covered in pulsing, sickly black veins, utterly anathema to the otherwise plantlike appearance.

Thump.

Time slowed, her perceptions shrinking until the space between heartbeats passed like minutes. The Deathstalker was far too close, seconds from being on her. Ruby twisted, painfully slow, impossibly fast, bringing Crescent Rose down on the tendrils, freeing one leg.

Thump.

The vines flailed wildly, withdrawing into the ground with unnatural haste. She pulled Crescent Rose up for the others. Too late.

Thump.

Her breath left her as the Deathstalker’s vice-like claws closed around her chest, her scarlet aura flaring into visibility as it strained to protect her from being vivisected. It lifted her into the air, for a brief moment nearly ripping her leg out by the root as the tendrils held firm.

Then they loosened, purpose apparently accomplished. Ruby didn’t have time to dwell on it.

Thump.

She dropped Crescent Rose, her weapon useless to her in such confined quarters. Ruby could feel her heart pumping wildly in her chest, every single nerve in her body alive with sensation – Pain!

Thump.

She wrapped her fingers around Heron, gripping the hilt like a lifeline.

Thump.

Her aura strained. She felt the fatigue setting in as it sapped the strength from her limbs to sustain itself. She drew her sword with all the haste she could muster.

Thump.

Twisting the blade around, Ruby maneuvered it to face the vulnerable chink in the Deathstalker’s armored pincer: the intersection of the two claws where the tendons that strained so hard to kill her were located, just as she’d been told in Grimm Studies.

The monster shrieked.

Thu-ump.

Ruby dropped to the ground, sucking in a deep breath as the Deathstalker reared back in agony, her former prison hanging uselessly open. The slit tendons smoked and bled, oily scarlet mixing with acrid black dust.

‘Thank you, Professor Port,’ she briefly thought, quickly running through her options.

She didn’t have the time to reclaim Crescent Rose. It was too close to the Deathstalker. No matter. Heron was more than enough. It would be wary, what would…? Yes. That would work.

Readjusting her grip on Heron, Ruby tensed her legs, eyes darting between her feet and the Grimm. She wouldn’t fall to the same deception twice.

She charged.

The Grimm’s other claw thrust at her. She dove, somersaulting below the massive appendage, coming up between it and the monster’s face. Ruby thrust Heron into a crimson eye, heedless of the champing mandibles below her elbow. Her teeth ground together as metal scraped rudely against bone.

The Deathstalker screamed.

She twisted Heron, feeling bone crack and the sickening sound of tearing meat.

The Grimm reared up on its back legs. Ruby yanked Heron back before it could be ripped away from her as her foe swung its head back and forth, spitting as agony overwhelmed its every sense. Its massive body twitched at random intervals, claws pounding at the air as though it were boxing an unseen enemy.

For a few seconds, she watched the Grimm, breathing tight and controlled, and viewed the damage she’d caused. The rush of the fight still drummed through her veins.

Ruby clamped down on it, breathing deeply through her nose to soften her pulse. Her eyes fluttered shut, relishing the moment of triumph.

Then they snapped open, silver pools examining the thrashing beast critically, evaluating.

She had a job to finish. The smell of smoke was thicker in the air already. Now that she wasn’t focused on surviving to the next second it was impossible to ignore. Wood and oil, with a hint of Dust’s telltale acridity mixed in.

Ruby crossed the short distance to Crescent Rose, keeping a careful eye on the Deathstalker in case it made any unexpected moves.

It didn’t. She’d probably hit something important.

Heron went back into its sheath, her fingers lingering on the hilt a moment in thanks for her life. Crescent Rose clicked back into sniper form, rising to press into her shoulder. She leaned into the stock, cheek warm against the metal where they kissed.

Crack!

Ruby turned away from the disintegrating corpse, nose twitching in displeasure as the temporary but foul scent of decaying Grimm filled the clearing. She was more concerned about the smoke. It was growing thicker by the minute.

She felt dread growing within her, settling in her gut like a heavy stone.

Pausing only to check over her supplies, Ruby jogged over to where she’d left her bag. Map, bag, Scroll, weapons, canteen, pack. Everything was in order.

She tilted her head tilted back to look above the canopy. Blue skies as far as the eye could see, littered with fluffy white clouds. The retreating grey line in the distance was a mere memory of the bad weather that had run through here not so long ago.

The simple beauty was marred by the rising column of darkness to the south. Ruby sighed, eyes squeezing shut for a moment, the stone growing heavier. Though it was only midmorning, the village was hours away by foot, as far south as one could go without crossing the mountains. She didn’t relish the idea of confronting the Grimm she’d find there in the dark, nor whatever sights would be there to greet her.

Nevertheless, Ruby shouldered her pack, tightening it against her body and ignoring the slight aches that came from her aura drawing on her body’s vitality. It would be a long, exhausting march.

And she knew what she would find at the end.

X_0_X

Twilight cloaked the land, but night had already fallen on Horikiri.

Ruby coughed harshly into her fist, arm raised against the plume of oily smoke blown into her face by the wind. The stuff was an omnipresent shadow, veiling everything in dust and darkness. She’d already passed several of the outlying farms mentioned in the reports, each a ruin of what they had once been.

The culprit was hardly subtle, not even bothering to mask its presence. Its massive footprints were impossible to miss – each a pit Ruby could have fit herself into, sunken deep into the soft loam of the fields.

Distantly, a part of her was grateful for the rains that had passed through the area. The moisture in the air as well as what had seeped into the ground and vegetation would go a long way to prevent the fires from spreading. Embers floated through the air, only to fizzle out and die as they drifted down to earth. They were fireflies, spots of beauty flitting through the ashes choking the village.

A simple beauty ignored.

Ruby felt empty. Hollow, like the burnt-out husks she’d passed that had once been homes.

Horikiri burned.

Though weaker than the conflagration that certainly consumed it hours before, the sheer cliffs of the ravine the village rested in at the head of the valley still danced with shadows, flickering orange, black, and red. Above the cackling flames she could hear something massive picking through the ruins, shifting rubble and splintered wood.

Corpses lined the path to the wall, black and desiccated. Ruby had no idea what possible reason the Grimm could have for defiling them so save for intimidation and the satisfaction of making every last moment as excruciating as possible.

If that was its goal, it was successful. Their shriveled visages, twisted in their final expressions of fear, terror, and despair were soul-crushing.

Crescent Rose was a quiet counterpoint to the sounds tormenting her ears, the familiar sliding metal and clicks comforting as she absently shifted it back and forth through its weapon modes.

Her hands clenched the snath tightly, her knuckles white and shaking. The dry air gently caressed her cheeks, but she could feel the wetness gather there in shining streams, silver pools locked on the blackened faces. Was this all that these people felt, before the end?

She felt sick, but it was growing fainter, her emotions draining away more with each and every corpse she passed after leaving the tree line on the village outskirts. Here, looking upon the broken ruins, there was no anger, no fury, no sorrow or chilled horror. Not anymore. Just the remains welding together into fierce resolve.

She was too late.

Again.

But she would avenge these people on their murderer.

Ruby moved with haste, leaving her bag where she would be able to easily retrieve it on her return. Her steps crunched on the gravel, soft ashes not yet thick enough to obscure the sound. She struggled to avoid inhaling a lungful of ash and smoke as they thickened around their source.

She stopped a few feet beyond the wall, staring through the gaping hole that had been ripped in it, wide enough that ten of her could walk through shoulder-to-shoulder. The crushed remnants of the structure were strewn about like toy blocks.

Somewhere within, a house collapsed, sending soot and embers flying.

Ruby shielded her mouth with her shirt and sucked in a deep breath of air as her lungs began to burn. It wasn’t enough, and she hunched over to hack and cough violently. The smoke was too thick to breathe, much less fight in…

Wincing, her mind turned over possibilities, discarding most of them. She didn’t have the material to craft anything on the fly, and there was no guarantee the monster inside the walls would stay in one place if it sensed her.

A solution popped into her brain suddenly, though she winced at the implications for her should the fight go poorly…

Fuck it. She needed to hurry.

Ruby closed her eyes, concentrated her aura upwards, toward her face. Years of training allowed her to mold her soul’s essence into tangible form, creating a barrier, different from those she’d used most often to protect herself.

Those shields were meant to protect her body; keep it safe when other weapons or trauma would otherwise incapacitate her. She didn’t want that – instead she molded it into a filter, permitting clean air through while blocking out the smoke and other debris.

Red light glinted in her lower peripheral vision. Her aura resembled the gauzy, scarlet veils of those Vacuoan dancers Sun had once shown her pictures of, fabric fluttering silently on a nonexistent breeze.

She smiled weakly at the thought.

At least she could breathe now. It was a start.

A scream pierced the air, high and hoarse and terrified. Ruby tensed, one leg already lifting up to carry her over the wall’s fractured foundation, but the sound died as suddenly as it started, accompanied by a violent crash. A low growl of satisfaction took its place, so heavy in the air Ruby could feel the immense size of the creature that created it.

She cursed bitterly and vaulted over the remains of the wall, marching into the ruins.

The village hadn’t been very large, probably only housing a population of a few hundred. Most of the buildings were single-story, made from wood cut from the nearby forest and designed after the dominant Mistrallan style like most buildings in Anima.

Most of them were now in flames, crumbling into themselves or already pulverized by an incredible force. It was a harrowing backdrop, but it had nothing on the dark shape picking through the ruins of the village’s inn. As she stepped into the large courtyard making up the center of the settlement, Ruby faced the shadow.

It was colossal, bulkier than any Nevermore or Goliath she’d ever encountered. It lumbered on four legs like a Berengal but towered over the buildings around it.

Its legs were built like tree-trunks; thick, rounded, and crushingly powerful. Protrusions at the ends only emphasized the comparison, looking like stubby, gnarled roots.

Its body was a mass of muscle and dense, bone-white plate armor, protecting the major areas of its body. Ruby’s stomach sank at the sight – the only Grimm with armor so thick and well-developed were Ancients, those few individuals given centuries to grow and fortify their patience with experience and ever-increasing intelligence.

It had little armor on its back. Instead, huge gnarled growths added an additional meter of height, dragging with them lichens and moss that pulsed black with Grimm corruption. More of the same dangled below the plate covering its face, like a thick and unkempt beard.

It was a Marsh Colossus.

Best known to spawn in northwestern Anima, they seldom grew to this size. They lived stationary lives in swamps, bogs, and marshes, drawing nutrients and strength from their environment and only attacking when humans chose to settle near their territory. Their sedentary nature made them easy targets for huntsmen; every few years there would be a flurry of culling assignments tasking them to fill quotas of Marsh Colossi before any could develop to such immense proportions.

That one was here, hundreds of miles from its preferred habitat, and in such a developed state... It must have been either lucky or clever enough to avoid the extermination teams throughout the centuries. Or never had to worry in the first place – there was a fair chance it might be older than the kingdom itself.

Regardless, it was a foe to be feared.

As if sensing her trepidation, the Colossus lifted its immense head to look at her. The growths framing the bony slab of armor protecting its face looked like an eerie mix of antlers and tree branches. Its crimson eyes bored into her, mixed curiosity and cold hatred, but it made no sound.

Marsh Colossi were notoriously silent, only breaking it when they inevitably moved, or when they wished to announce themselves. Absent-minded passerby could easily find their messy demise by walking past a colossus without realizing it, mistaking them for the dark trees around them.

Behind her, a roof caved in with a loud crash, the fires too much for it.

Her mind evaluated her chances furiously.

There was nothing she could do to kill this Grimm in one blow. Crescent Rose was made for smaller Grimm; for reaping the lives of the fodder that thrived upon Remnant. She had options to inflict terrible harm upon anything, of course, but on her own they were limited. And that was no guarantee that it would kill something this big.

The beast began moving out of the ruins of the inn, absently brushing by the bar and smashing it into splinters. Her eyes darted around the square.

Corpses littered the ground, blackened after being consumed by the Colossus. They were known to draw nutrients from their victims just like they did with their environment. She’d never seen pictures of such a thing in school – she wasn’t sure whether to be thankful or not – and hadn’t recognized it for what it was.

Now she knew.

Driven through the cobblestones that formed the streets were dark, organic growths like those she’d seen earlier. They moved seemingly without direction, lacking a physical connection to the Grimm. Colossi were known to draw strength from the ground, similar to trees and fungi with their extensive root systems, but she had never read up on how, nor the extent of those abilities. She would have to be wary; if it had time to prepare the battlefield then nowhere would be safe for her.

How far did this thing’s reach spread anyways?

Ruby lowered Crescent Rose, holding it perpendicular to her body as the Colossus stepped into the square, going eerily still. Its eyes moved ceaselessly, examining her, calculating, intelligent. Silver eyes returned the look with equal intensity, measuring her opponent.

She couldn’t fell it with a single blow, but there were ways around that. She’d bled opponents before. Her reserves were low, but she was confident in her abilities to outmaneuver the hulking beast.

She made the first move. The world blurred around her, tinting scarlet as she swung Crescent Rose at the thick forelegs of the Grimm - Right, Left - scoring two deep wounds as she came out of her semblance on its side.

Slash up!

The Colossus rumbled, like an aging tree amidst a windstorm, and swatted at her with alarming speed. Ruby ducked the blow, sweeping Crescent Rose above her and drawing blood once more. The rumble grew, more like an avalanche in its intensity now. She was forced far away as it slammed its forelegs into the ground, creating a shockwave.

The force of the blow shook the earth beneath her, two new craters forming where it stove through the cobblestone.

Ruby eyed her work and blanched.

Save for three miniscule scars to mark their locations, the wounds had already healed over. It had only been seconds! No Grimm she had ever seen or heard of had regenerative capabilities of that level.

Back!

Ruby leapt away from the next strike and tapped into her speed, the world blurring around her as she ducked and wove around each and every attack the Colossus made. Crescent Rose sang its mournful dirge as it bit into limbs and cut between chinks and cracks in the otherwise impenetrable armor.

It became a dance. The beast would attack, she would counter or leap out of the way and score yet another superficial wound. It would heal, and they would repeat the process. All the while, crimson eyes bore into her with contempt and fury.

Roll! Slash up! Right! Jab! Right! Slash across the body!

Her instincts guided her body while her mind worked; she needed a better plan if she would win… Ruby could feel her aura slowly draining away as she channeled it into her veil, her body, and her semblance. Eventually she would make a mistake and start taking damage and her reserves would truly start to evaporate. The Colossus, on the other hand, barely seemed winded.

Ruby rolled between its stomach, working the bolt on Crescent Rose as the blade came up against its leg.

Crack!

Her weapon bit deep into flesh, making the monster growl furiously, but then it stuck.

‘Shit!’

She flared her aura, using the burst of strength to rip Crescent out of the bone in a spray of thick, scarlet blood and flying Grimmflesh. Regaining her balance, she immediately sprinted away before it could take advantage of her proximity (she didn’t want to get stomped on!), but the lost time was more than enough for the beast to twist itself around to face her.

The beast rumbled and, abandoning its stationary tactics, charged, utterly unaffected by the small hurts she’d inflicted with her pitiful assault. Ruby made to duck to the side of the beast before it trampled her but was halted by a familiar presence suddenly snared legs, growing tighter by the second. Her eyes widened in fear.

‘Doubt-shit!’ Crescent Rose dipped down to her ankles, slashing through the tendrils.

The earth around her erupted in a sea of flying stone and vegetation as even more of the growths punched their way through the streets. Another slash and her other leg was freed, and she danced between the writhing tendrils as they reached for her limbs with poisonous intent.

The ground shook violently beneath her, the Colossus an unstoppable force glaring hate through its furious crimson eyes.

Don’t just stand there! Get away! UP!

Desperate, Ruby drove Crescent Rose’s barrel into the ground and pulled the trigger, pouring her aura into her body.

Crack!

The recoil, combined with her semblance, launched her away in a cloud of rose petals, high into the air.

It wasn’t enough.

A huge foreleg, black as a nightmare and plated with armor denser than stone reached up and swatted her out of the sky, sending her tumbling off to the side as the behemoth trampled over her previous position. Ruby’s entire world tilted for a moment, her aura flaring into visibility around her as she crashed through a wall.

She cried out on impact, pain quick to follow her landing. Her back slammed into something hard – several other heavy weights toppling onto her immediately after. The scarlet barrier she relied upon for survival flickered violently around her, her reserves of aura depleting itself to repair her damaged flesh and bones.

The house she’d landed in shook as the Colossus slammed into the ravine wall with a jaw-rattling boom. Several crashes followed; the building she’d stood in front of crumbling around the beast.

For a breathless moment, Ruby lay there, bones aching, and realized something chilling.

She had to get away.

As far away as possible.

It was a painful epiphany, but nonetheless true. Her soul was even now sapping the vitality from her body in a desperate effort to replace the losses from a single blow. In just a few minutes she’d be even more fatigued - and lacking her single greatest defense entirely should she take another hit.

If it didn’t simply kill her outright.

She had to get away and warn the rest of Mistral; put together a hunting party to track the Ancient down and kill it before it could move on and inflict itself on another helpless settlement.

Ruby doubted she could hurt it in her current state, even if she tried again and again. With more of its cards shown, it had too much control over the battlefield and it was too canny to fall for the same tricks more than once. It had nearly killed her already, to say nothing about whatever other abilities it likely had sequestered away.

Get up.

Rolling over, Ruby drove her fist into the floorboards, snarling as her knuckles bruised. Every ounce of her frustration went into the punch, the pain her penance for having to abandon her mission and the vengeance Horikiri deserved.

For now.

She would return.

Resolved, Ruby pushed herself to her feet, leaning heavily on Crescent Rose. Dozens of heavy ceramic tiles tumbled off of her, the remains of the roof caved in above her. She winced as even more pain made itself known. Her legs hurt like they’d been flayed…

Wait. Her face paled and she knelt down to examine the places where she’d been held down by the vines. Her dark stockings were sticky with the resinous substance she’d seen coating the vines. She roughly tore away the material and cringed at the sight of her ankles. Where the substance had seeped through the thin material, the skin was red and inflamed, in some places blackened and dead.

She hadn’t even noticed it from earlier – too consumed by her mission to separate the pain from the expected fatigue and strain of hiking for so long.

Careful to avoid touching any more of the stuff, Ruby pressed her fingers against her leg and found that the skin surrounding the substance was numb. It was only the worst affected areas where the pain was beginning to bloom.

That settled it. She needed to get away. It was already enough without adding poison on top of it all.

Chirp!

What? Ruby perked up.

Chirp!

She knew that sound.

Chirp!

The building on the other side of the courtyard, where the Colossus had ended its bull-rush toward her, disappeared in a flurry of smoke and embers as the creature swiped away what little remained. Its massive head tilted upwards to regard the airship that now filled the air with its call with hateful, wary eyes.

Ruby felt her heart lift on seeing the Bullhead. She could escape!

Then three shapes dropped from the craft, and that feeling vanished, replaced by bewilderment and dread. What were they doing? They didn’t seriously think they could fight it, did they?

Glass and splintered wood were shifted aside as the Colossus stepped back into the courtyard. It stilled then, statuesque and unnatural as darkness wisped off of its body.

Cringing as the action pulled at her inflamed skin, Ruby jogged toward the newcomers, taking in their appearance.

One, smaller than the rest and armed with a short sword and pistol, was obviously a Mistrallan pilot. She’d become well-acquainted with the distinct cut of their uniforms over the years she’d lived there. His aviator’s cap obscured his features from her, but she noted that he had a particularly sharp chin and his lips were pulled into a nervous frown.

His companions were huntsmen. One medium-height and stocky, the other built like a warrior of old, tall and broad-shouldered, with shining plate armor layered all over his upper body to complete the image.

She jogged over and Stocky offered his hand to her in greeting, eyes never leaving the Colossus. “Bai Long.”

Still bewildered, Ruby took the offered hand anyways, giving it a firm shake. His companion gave her a little wave. “Reed Bryce, we’re here from one of the villages up north. Saw the smoke after finishing up our mission and thought we should check it out.”

“Ruby Rose,” she answered tersely, nodding to the pilot. The man kept his silence. He was pale, like he might be sick at any moment. Who invited him?

“What’s the scoop on the Grimm?” Reed asked, smile undeterred by the menacing gaze aimed at them.

The Colossus was content to wait for them, apparently. Something in its bearing radiated smug contempt. Almost laziness, if one ignored the burning hate in its eyes. Complete certainty that it could – and would – kill them all in time, certainly. Ruby suspected that if they attempted to flee, they would be stopped anyways. Her allies would, at least.

Fine.

If these huntsmen wanted to put up a fight, then she would help them. If the Colossus wasn’t going to stop them from putting together a battle plan, all the better for their chances.

Just fine.

She took a breath, centering herself.

“It’s a Marsh Colossus. Ancient. It’s got a network of vines underground that it can use to grab you,” Ruby listed quickly, anything she could think of. “It’s big and dangerous, and it regenerates faster than I can hurt it. I was thinking about running before you showed up.”

Intending to run, but they didn’t need to know that.

Bai nodded. “We saw as much,” he said. He indicated a tiny metal contraption resting on Reed’s shoulder. A video probe. Many huntsmen used them to document their assignments. She hadn’t found a need to bring hers along this time – a mistake in hindsight. “You are okay after that hit?”

“Not really, but I can fight.”

“Excellent.” Bai drew a pair of long, curved daggers from his belt, pressing the hilts together to form a single continuous piece. With a series of metallic clicks, the piece became a bow, which he efficiently began to string. “I am a bowman, obviously. My semblance allows me to control air currents to enhance my shots, among other things.”

“I can charge up my strength if I get some time to concentrate,” Reed added, a heavy spear now held comfortably in his massive hands.

Ruby nodded, eyes flicking to the pilot briefly and receiving a hasty shake of the head in reply. He would have an aura, but no semblance, as was common with most pilots. Aura was too useful to go without unlocking when it could save a life in a crash, but semblances were rare to develop for anyone save huntsmen.

Apparently, their pilot ally wasn’t one of those precious few. Shame.

Ruby eyed Reed’s spear, mentally sifting through what strategies they could use. “How strong is your weapon, Reed?”

“Strong enough.”

“Strong enough to pierce an Ancient’s armor?”

The huge man’s grin was as wide as it was vicious. “I am confident in Clarent’s abilities.”

At literally any other time Ruby would have been interested in knowing more about the duo’s weapons, but not now. “Good. My semblance is speed. You charge yourself up as much as you can while we draw its attention. Pilot - keep those vines from touching Reed. Your sword should cut through them pretty easily if you use your aura,” she explained, all business. “Bai, you and I are going to distract it. When Reed’s ready I’ll launch him at the Colossus. If you can give us a boost with your semblance, do it. With any luck it’ll die in one blow. Any questions?”

Bai shook his head in the negative, while Reed just gave her a thumbs up, sinking to a knee and closing his eyes in intense concentration. His drone lifted itself away from his shoulder, autonomous and ready to record the fight. The pilot shuddered but nodded to her, drawing his sword.

Crescent Rose shifted into rifle mode with a flick of her finger. She’d need all the speed and maneuverability she could get this fight. “Let’s move, huntsmen!”

Ruby felt a warm flare of aura behind her as Reed began charging his semblance. The Ancient seemed to sense their intention, as below them the ground erupted with dozens of thrashing vines, each seeking to incapacitate or cripple.

Praying for the pilot to pull his own weight and keep the spearman safe, she fixed her attention on the Grimm. Crescent Rose dipped forward, barrel pointed at the ground in front of her.

Crack!

She launched into the air, taking potshots at the Colossus as she began to circle around the edges of the courtyard. Every time she lost momentum she’d land on some crumbling piece of architecture, careful to pick spaces that would hold her weight and to never stand still long enough for the Grimm to catch her out.

Opposite her, Bai peppered the beast with shining arrows. Forgoing a quiver, the bowman pulled each arrow from the air itself. Each shot flew with an eerie shriek unlike anything Ruby had heard before; a mix of wind in the mountains on a freezing winter’s day and nails on a chalkboard.

While he didn’t have the same luxury of speed or recoil to boost his leaping that Ruby did, Bai made up for it by creating translucent platforms of solid air, gracefully leaping from one to the next when he couldn’t find a safe foothold to land on.

Together they harried the Colossus, each shot blowing holes in its hide or chipping away at its formidable armor as it swatted at them like tiny flies. Houses were reduced to flinders, smoke and embers amidst the action as the Grimm rampaged through the village, organized streets of cobblestone quickly turning into a churned-up mess as the beast’s heavy footfalls tore them apart.

For all their efforts, they failed to inflict any real damage on the Colossus – it regenerated too quickly for that - but they were persistent enough to keep it distracted and agitated. Like any Ancient it was intelligent, far superior to its mindless lesser brethren, but it was still limited. Consumed by the chase, it was seemingly content to leave Reed relatively unmolested while it pursued the more interesting prey.

Not to say it didn’t try to eliminate the prone huntsman. Vines constantly erupted from the ground to interrupt Reed’s concentration. The pilot was quick to dispatch them though, his aura-empowered strength more than enough to cut through the tough fibers.

It wasn’t all smooth sailing, however.

They had to buy as much time as possible, but it was obvious that they were running out. With the destruction of so many buildings, Ruby and Bai were left with fewer and fewer places to land safely.

She worked furiously at the bolt of Crescent Rose to keep herself airborne, but with every second Ruby knew she would soon have to touch the ground and risk even more of those tendrils leaping out to restrain her.

Without warning, her luck ran out and a piece of masonry collapsed beneath her.

‘Shit!’

Heart leaping in her throat, she prepared to hit the ground running when she was saved. A transparent platform appeared beneath her suddenly, glowing with the telltale sky-blue of Bai’s aura.

Ruby aimed a mental ‘thank you’ at the huntsman, staggering a little at the unexpected landing but quickly finding her balance. She leapt away before she was crushed beneath another swing of the beast’s colossal arms.

Still more seconds passed; they were falling behind.

Blows edged ever closer as their reflexes grew less sharp and fatigue conspired to make their movements more and more sluggish. The underground tendrils became more of a serious threat as safe landing spots grew scarce. Too much more of this and Ruby knew she’d have to dip back into her aura reserves…

Ruby could see Bai tiring as well. He used his semblance ever more sparingly, stretching his aura to last as long as possible. Neither of them were built or trained for long sprints like this.

They just needed a little more time…

The bowman was the first to make a crucial mistake, reacting just a second too slow to leap over a sweeping forelimb. His arms flew up in front of his face, forming a misty barrier between the behemoth and himself. While it did absorb most of the momentum, the blow still sent Bai reeling.

Ruby cursed internally, Crescent Rose’s bark accompanying her leap toward the huntsman. She hit the transformation switch, swapping out for its scythe form and swinging downwards.

The Colossus reeled back in pain as a massive gash appeared along the length of its foreleg. She somersaulted on landing, twisting her body to come up sweeping her scythe in a low arc, parallel to the ground. The tendrils that had instantly risen to encircle her limbs fell away, thrashing on the ground.

She ran over and cut Bai free of the bonds that had already pulled and anchored him to the ground. Her worried eyes lingered on the resin covering his arms and legs as she pulled the bowman to his feet, before she grabbed him around the waist and blurred them away with her semblance a split second before they were crushed by the Colossus.

She stopped at a relatively safe spot on the other side of the courtyard, several houses down from their allies on top of a relatively-intact roof. Her legs ached horribly, taxed by the sprint and her passenger.

The Colossus slowly began to turn itself back around. Throughout the battle it had proven to be deceptively fast, but it took its time when repositioning itself.

“Rose! Bai! I am ready!”

The two huntsmen looked at Reed, whose aura was flaring brightly. It was gold, a little more on the tinny side than yellow, but bright and shining amidst the gloom and haze.

So similar to –

Not fucking now.

Ruby turned to Bai. “Get it to face us. This is either going to work, or it isn’t.”

He nodded, grasping her wrist before she leapt down. He had very subdued blue eyes, Ruby noted. “Thank you for my life.”

Her lips quirked upwards wearily, feeling the bite the rescue had taken out of her aura reserves. “Anytime.”

Reed had levelled Clarent at the Colossus by the time Ruby joined him, the spear surrounded by the same nimbus of light as its wielder. On the other side of the courtyard, Bai was already shooting away at the Colossus, keeping its attention fixated on himself while the two prepared to execute their gambit.

The pilot was still busy hacking away at the vines. He was doing a pretty good job. The ground was littered with dead vegetation. Ruby levelled a serious look at the spear-wielder. “You’re ready for this?”

He shot her a wide, almost-manic grin. “I was born ready, Rose!”

“Let’s do it then,” Ruby said, giving a tiny smile of her own. Her blood, already pumping from exertion and excess adrenaline, seemed to burn hotter near so much concentrated energy. Aura practically bled off the man. She took a step back, setting her feet and pooling her own aura into her body, readying it for the burst of speed.

Then she moved. The world blurred around her as she wrapped her arms around the huntsman and drew him into her bubble of pure velocity. Ruby’s aura briefly strained after the hit from earlier, her legs trying to heal, the day’s exertion and now carrying this huge man, but it was a short journey.

The scarlet tint around her eyesight, touched blue by Bai’s semblance aiding her, vanished and she let go of her passenger, landing laterally on the Ancient’s shoulder and flipping away before the true attack could land.

She landed in a crouch as Reed connected with a roar and a sickening crack, rose petals sweeping past her. The Colossus’ impenetrable armor splintered around Clarent, the spearhead driving deep into its chest, seeking vital organs. Skidding backwards from the force, the Grimm carved a new divot in the cobblestone, only slowing to a halt against the remains of a decorative fountain.

The monster shrieked.

Powerfully, loudly. Excruciatingly for her poor eardrums, which threatened to burst despite her aura’s best efforts.

It was a sound unlike any she’d ever experienced, and one soon joined by the comparably faint sound of crunching bone and metal. Ruby dropped to her knees, clutching her ears as they cried out in protest of the needles driving deep within. One second. Two.

The roar intensified, pressing against her skin as a tangible presence. Ruby grit her teeth, enduring the onslaught just like the others.

Five. Six. Seven…

Just. Stop. Screaming…

Ten.

Eleven…

…

Eventually, it did, to her sweet relief.

Letting her hands fall from her ears (and ignoring the slow trickle of blood and tingle of her aura as it went to work repairing her eardrums), Ruby looked up to see the result of their strategy.

Her heart dropped.

Reed was dead, his skin already blackening in the Colossus’ fist. His armor had crumpled like tin foil in the beast’s horrifically strong grip. Bone protruded from his ruined flesh in several places - where they hadn’t been pulped together already.

Clarent remained deep inside the Grimm’s body, the spear protruding from its chest amidst a gruesome morass of shattered armor and charred Grimmflesh. The wound bled a steady stream of scarlet tar, the Colossus twitching and shuddering randomly, obviously enduring incredible pain.

From a great distance, Ruby heard Bai scream in horror and grief, and belatedly realized that her gambit had failed.

They’d broken the Ancient’s primary defense – that wouldn’t be restored fully for centuries to come. But its flesh was already sealing closed around Clarent, leaving the weapon permanently impaled inside.

It was vulnerable now, and more hurt than it had probably ever been in its life, but it still wasn’t enough.

The Colossus flung the desiccated corpse in its grip to the ground, turning to face the rest of them. Its eyes burned like hellfire, promising slow death for they who dared to truly wound it.

The earth shook with the force of its furious, cold snarl.

Ruby began to slowly back away, her heartrate beginning to hasten once more into panic mode. They were out of options now. The Ancient was done toying with its prey. They needed to run.

“Bai!” she shouted over her shoulder, voice rising with her emotions, “Pilot! We need to run, now!”

The Colossus thundered, truly enraged now, and moved, building the momentum to trample her once again. Ruby twisted and ran, chilled by the realization that she had very little aura left to fuel her semblance.

The earth trembled behind her.

The world started to bleed scarlet and she jumped forward just a few feet, but then the world shook around her, and she staggered out of her semblance prematurely.

Ruby turned to see Bai, aura flaring white-blue, stop the Ancient in its tracks and hold it behind a massive, concentrated barrier. Not even seconds after its creation, jagged fractures had begun webbing across the polished face, the huntsman straining to his limit against the rampaging beast.

“Go!”

Thu-ump.

Ruby blanched. “What? No! I am not leaving you!”

“I will not leave my brother behind!” Bai snarled, a vein throbbing in his temple. “The drone! Take it, the pilot, and get as far away from here as possible! Our ship will reach the city before you. Find it when it returns and get back to Mistral…! Tell them what has happened, form a team… Rgh…! Come back to kill this abomination!”

Her mouth worked soundlessly around a denial, but Bai was set. “We have lost! Make sure our sacrifice is not in vain, Ruby Rose!”

Something within her quailed, but after a moment’s indecision she accepted the huntsman’s choice. It was the same conclusion she’d come to earlier, just more painful and accompanied by even more death.

They had lost.

She could still make it worth something, though.

She would.

Ruby blurred forward, thankful for the lack of vines to trip her up. Sidestepping the Ancient, she cringed as the barrier shattered with a sound like breaking pottery. The beast snarled, its forelegs crashed into the ground, rattling the village, and Bai was forced to roll away to avoid being splattered beneath the rampaging Grimm.

The huntsman brought his bow back up instantly and began shooting away at the vulnerable flesh they’d exposed. It was soft and weak after so much time spent covered by the impenetrable armor, but the wounds still closed faster than Bai could reopen them.

They were painful, vicious thorns to the Colossus though, and kept its bloody gaze fixated on the bowman.

She slid a halt next to Reed, gagging on the foul odor rising from his body when it reached past her veil. The drone had returned itself to where she’d seen it earlier, attached to his shoulder pad and only slightly worse for wear amidst the chaos. Ruby pocketed it, hoping that the information it had recorded would be enough to give the next party a chance.

Touching his forehead briefly in the most rudimentary blessing she knew of, Ruby stood and blurred toward the pilot. He’d drawn his pistol and was shooting at the Ancient while it was preoccupied chasing down Bai.

He lowered the weapon as she stopped near him. “We are to go?” the man asked shakily.

Ruby nodded, steeling herself for her next action.

The pilot looked back at Bai. “I do not like abandoning him; he would not have done the same to me,” he admitted.

“I don’t either,” Ruby agreed curtly. She wrapped an arm around the man’s waist. “But we need to get away – as far as possible – and get word out to Mistral. I’ll use my semblance for as long as I can, but after that we’re running.”

He nodded weakly, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, giving her a better hold to work with.

He was lightweight compared to Reed. It was a small blessing. Ruby projected a heartfelt mental apology to the two huntsmen before pouring what little aura she had remaining into her semblance.

One foot in front of the other. Faster. The world took on a scarlet tinge, blurring for more than one reason as moisture spilled down her cheeks.

They accelerated. Past the ruined buildings, through the gaping hole in the village’s wall, across the ruined fields and out into the forest.

‘I’m so sorry…’

As far away as she could take them.

Keep moving.

Her body protested, but she would have none of it while they were so close.

Keep. Moving. Forward.

They rested a minute when Ruby’s aura finally sputtered out, several miles away from Horikiri. Her chest heaved, unable to draw enough breath. Her face glistened with sweat in the last light of the day, streaked with grime and tears and filth. She couldn’t feel her legs, save for the faintest of twinges where she knew the poison was working its way into her flesh.

Despite the reprieve, all she could taste was ash.

They started moving again when they heard the crash, faint and muted by distance.

It was succeeded by a piercing cry of victory. She forced herself to ignore the painful ache in her chest as she ordered the pilot to his feet, swiping at her eyes. Ruby’s legs burned as she set a punishing pace for them both, but it was nothing to what she felt whenever she pictured the death she’d borne witness to that day.

They pressed onwards, no matter the pain. They had a job to complete.

Just keep moving forward.

#RWBY #That Last Rose #The Last Rose Chapter Two #Valasania the Pale #My stories #Ruby Rose

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rallis-fatalis · 6 years ago

Text

Dungeons and Dragons (and Dorks)

Zeah is big and exciting with adventure around every corner! There always seems to be something new to find and do. Adam and Rallis bring Peg along on a field trip to western reaches of Zeah, the lands of Kebos, for some sightseeing and exploring. There's a dungeon full of dragons to explore and by Guthix these dorks will befriend them!

The lands to the west of Kourend weren't often traveled by people. It was too close to lizardman territory for comfort and the odd immortal rock built race of the Tasakaal and Kahlith unnerved some of the locals. The people of Shayzien didn't much care for the lands either, thinking the Hosidians were fools for building one of their most important guilds so close between these two features. Many saw it as a waste of time and resources to guard it when they could be fighting instead.

Its out of the way nature certainly didn't stop people from enjoying the guild, however. The farming guild attracted a great many people, young, old, warrior, and pacifist alike. Three of those many people certainly stood out from the rest, a tall green man, a talking blue dragon, and a girl who turned into a raccoon. The girl had turned into a raccoon to snooze with a cat in the sunny gazebo while the man tended to a tree the dragon was stealing fruit from. The dragon slid out of the tree with a plop, arms filled with pink fruit, face covered in juice of a similar color.

The man sighed. "Rallis, can you please leave my tree alone?"

Rallis stuffed another fruit into her face. "Nope." She spat the seeds out. He gave her a glare. "Adam, let me have this."

Adam grumbled and got back to what he was doing. It had hardly been a day and she was already addicted to dragonfruit. Rallis sauntered over to the sleeping cat and raccoon and sat down, startling them both awake. She handed the raccoon a fruit. "They're really good, try one." As she smiled, bits of the fruit slid off her now pink stained teeth onto the ground. The raccoon shook her head and sat up. She didn't want pink juice in her fur.

Adam brushed the dirt off his gloves and outfit and proudly stepped away from the tree. "All done!"

The raccoon happily chirped and in a flash turned into a dark clothed girl. "Does that mean we can go now?!" she shouted excitedly.

"Sure, Peg, we can go," Adam said. Peg cheered. "Why do you want to go to Karuulm so badly anyway?"

"You two already got to go and that's no fair," she stomped. "I want to see it too!"

"I wanna look around more too!" Rallis smiled. "Let's hurry up and go, moss giant!"

Adam rolled his eyes at the moniker and followed the two out the guild, watching them sprint out the doors and toward the mountain.

Mount Karuulm loomed ominously in the distance, a stark black in contrast with the electric blue dripping and pooling down its peak. The plant life withered and died until there was nothing but glassy stone and sulphureous pits of blue lava. The place looked uninviting and smelled just as bad.

Peg gagged at the overbearing smell of rotten eggs. "This place reeks!" she complained.

"It's the sulphur," Adam explained. "The mountain has a ton of it. Makes the place stink and dyes the lava blue."

"It smells bad but it's super pretty!" Rallis said cheerfully. No matter the situation, it always seemed she had something nice to say.

The three scaled the mountain, Rallis and Peg scuttling over the rocks with ease while Adam bitched and moaned as he kept slipping, having to take the longer way around, and the trio soon crested the mountaintop. Peg was excitedly taking in the sights, the neat dragon adorned elevator that descended into the volcanic heart of the mountain, the glowing pools of superheated blue, and the interesting locals. She didn't understand what the were quite frankly.

"Those are the Kahlith!" Rallis explained. "They're rock people! And they're made of lava too. That's why they glow blue! Cool right?"

"Yeah," Peg nodded as she eyed one of the rock beings up. It seemed to sense her gaze and turned her way. The girl broke eye contact before they could notice.

"Well, to go into the volcano you're going to need some new boots," Adam told her. "Let's go get some."

"But I'm already wearing boots. Why do I need new ones?"

"We're going into a volcano. Your feet will burn if you don't have these." Adam stomped his feet and Peg noticed he had boots made of the stone from the mountain.

"Those look heavy," she grimaced.

"Yeah well it's either the extra weight or you lose your toes. Pick."

Peg shuddered at the thought of losing her feet and complied, following the two to a tented section of the mountain. Underneath a canopy stood a tall Kahlith woman, sorting through various weaponry and equipment. Adam cleared his throat to grab her attention.

"Ah, greetings," she turned to them. "How may I help you this time?"

"Peg needs boots!" Rallis said and pointed to her companion's feet.

The Kahlith woman looked the girl over with a hum. "So small... I may have some. One moment." Peg frowned at being called small as the woman dug through some supplies. She held a pair of stone boots up. "Try these." She handed Peg the boots and the girl slid them on. They were a little big but boy were they heavy. She stomped around in them to test them out and felt like a duck awkwardly plopping around.

"These suck," Peg groaned.

"That means they're great," Adam told the woman. He handed her a fistful of gold. "Thanks Konar."

As the three walked along, Peg noticed something. "Hey! How come Rallis isn't wearing any shoes?!"

The dragon snorted. "I grew up in a lava filled dungeon. You really think I need those? Walk around Mor-Ul-Rek barefoot and come back to me."

Peg narrowed her eyes at the logic. The three soon found themselves at the elevator once more, Peg slower than her companions with the new shoes. She jokingly lifted her legs with her hands and dropped them to take each step, but Adam told her to stop being dramatic about it. With a few cranks and pulls of the elevator winch, they quickly found themselves in the heart of the mountain.

Despite being underground now in a series of dark caverns, the entire tunnel system was bright and well lit with glowing blue. Lava flowed and pooled all around them, illuminating the cavern with electric fire. The three walked forward to an opening that branched three different ways, three massive stone figures seated in thrones by each path. They paid no mind to the trio coming closer, nor to any other adventurers exploring the grounds.

"Who are they?" Peg whispered.

"The Tasakaal," Rallis explained. "The elders of the rock people from earlier. They're annoying and rude and finish each other's sentences. Just ignore them. Let's actually explore this place this time!"

Adam and Rallis had already visited the mountain and the Tasakaal but it was only for a moment to speak with the elders and they left quickly. They hadn't the time to explore any deeper. Some of the adventurers taking a break in the farming guild spoke of dragons that weren't quite dragons farther in the caves though, and that grabbed all three of their attentions. Rallis grabbed her companions by the hand and pulled them along the first path she saw. After a few twists and turns, hissing echoed off the walls. Adam pried Rallis' hands off them and told her to wait, wary of the hissing. Her shield made a similar sound before it froze someone to death and it made him go immediately on alert, though this one sounded more crackly, more electric. He poked his head around the corner and saw what looked like the ground itself slithering and moving, pale blue light flashing with the movement. Rallis and Peg snuck a glance too, Rallis grinning and leaving the safety of the wall.

"Rallis wait!" Adam hissed through his teeth as his friend wandered into the pit of slithering rock. As she got closer, all movement stopped. It made him nervous, putting a hand on the hilt of his sword.

Rallis crouched and smiled as she held a hand out. "Wow you guys are hard to see! But I see you! Hello! How are you?"

At once, the ground was alive with movement and hissing. With a flash of blue, all the slithering beasts became cloaked in light and visible. They looked like horned snakes, slithered like them too, but they had small arms and legs so they had to be some kind of lizard. And they were huge! Nearly big enough to swallow a grown man whole. They all slithered around Rallis, curious. She gave one a pat and at its request began to pet it snout to tail.

"Oh, you're so cute! Yes you are! And so wiggly! Oh you're so adorable!" She cooed and pet the growing pile of wriggly lizards as they hissed with happiness. She turned back to where her friends were hiding. "Why are you two still over there? Come here!"

Adam and Peg slowly snuck out, all the lizards going on the defensive, some even taking to the air, floating with the power of electricity and magic. Rallis waggled her finger at them. "Now, now, they're with me! Be nice!" Begrudgingly, they went back to normal, the ones taking flight hovering over to the new guests to give them a sniff.

Peg watched the wingless beasts fly around the room with awe. "What are they? And how are they doing that?"

"I think they're wyrms," Rallis said. "Dragons that fly with magic instead of wings. I've read about them. Didn't know they were this big though!"

"How can a dragon fly without wings?" Adam questioned as he crouched by a wyrm coming up to him to say hello. "That shouldn't be possible."

"I can fly a little bit and I've barely got wings," Rallis countered.

"Yeah well you have the help of a god, so you tell me." Adam timidly put his hand out to pet the serpent. It seemed to like it, begging for more pets. The man couldn't help but smile at the long silly serpent wriggling like a happy dog.

Peg yelled happily as she sat on a huge wyrm's back and rode it as it took to the air. It swam through the room with grace, carrying the cheering girl on its back. "These things are so cool!"

The three played around for a little longer before moving on, giving the playful serpents a farewell and final pat. They continued on to the main room and took the second path this time, trudging up stairs carved into the rock and reaching a higher point in the underground tunnels. Peg panted as she had to lift her heavy boots up the stairs, huffing and puffing at every step. Rallis frowned at a huge hole near the top once they finished the climb. The hole rested directly above the three Tasakaal in all their glory.

"Think I can land on one of their heads from up here?" Rallis said.

"Now, now," Adam chided. "Leave them alone."

She grumbled and moved away from the hole, leading her friends to a path to the south. At the end of the path, Rallis gasped and ran into the clearing it opened out to. The room was full of fat orange lizards, each about the size of a cat! Rallis squealed with delight as she picked up an armful of them. "OH MY GOD THEY'RE SO CUTE!"

Peg laughed and picked one up as well. It didn't seem to mind, licking its eye as it looked up at the smiling girl. "They're so big! Do lizards normally get this big?"

"Not that I've seen!" Adam said as he picked up an especially fat one. He went nose to nose with the smiling orange lizard. "You're as fat as Tanner after Wintumber!" The lizard burped in his face in response, a gross sulphur smell. The man hacked and coughed and put the lizard down. "Well I guess I know what they eat now. Maybe the sulphur makes them big."

Rallis carried about five in her arms as she started to make her way back to the hole and continue onward. "Rallis," Adam called after her. She looked at him like she was doing nothing wrong. "Put them back," he pointed to the room. The dragon pouted and let them go, watching them scurry away.

They returned to the hole and took the opposing path this time. Within moments, a bloodcurdling scream greeted them. Adam and Rallis immediately went on alert, Adam brandishing his sword and Rallis her whip. As they edged down the path, a man came crashing into the wall, clutching his arm and panting, nearly on the verge of tears. Peg stole a glance at the man from behind her guards and winced. The metal armour on his shoulder and arms were melted, eaten away by something and his arm underneath was a bloody bubbling mess. Skin blistered open from the heat and blood dripped down to his hand, sizzling from the heat of the melting armour. Adam and Rallis quickly put their weapons away and helped the poor man.

"What happened?!" Adam nearly snapped at the man in worry. He started to pull the armour off, Rallis trying to help. As she neared the man however, he jumped back in fear. If he wasn't so hurt, he would have pointed his sword at her.

"Filthy fire breathing beast!" he shouted at her. "Stay back!"

Rallis' ears drooped as she tried getting closer. "I'm just trying to help! And I don't even breathe fire! Stop moving and let us help you!"

The man groaned as Adam finally wrenched his platebody off. Now the damage to his arm was more apparent, entire limb red with burns and blood. It felt hot to the touch. "Rallis, ice?" Adam motioned. She nodded and put her hand in front of the mouth of her shield. It spat out a light coating of ice onto her glove as well as a few small chunks. She handed Adam some ice chunks and put the rest on the man's arm. He winced at first, but soon the cold kicked in and he visibly relaxed. She gently ran her hand over the worst part of his arm, glove leaving a coating of frost behind, already melting from the heat.

"What did this?" Adam tried again, hoping he would speak now.

The man shook his head. "A-A dragon, I think. I-It looked like a dragon, breathed fire like a dragon, but it had no wings. It attacked me for no reason and burned me."

"Dragons are territorial," Rallis said. "All you would have to do is enter its territory and it could grow angry. You said it had no wings?"

"Wings, no wings, whatever man! All I know is it's pissed and strong. I didn't think I'd need a shield here!"

"Neither did we," Adam warned Rallis. "We should go. Only you have a shield and we need to get this man hel--"

The walls shook. Bits of rock tumbled from the ceiling and bounced off their heads. Stomping echoed down the path. Something was coming.

The wounded man started to panic. "That's the dragon!" he shouted. "We gotta go!"

As if on cue, a roar greeted their ears, very close by. Adam wrapped his arm around the man and pushed him along. "Let's go!"

Rallis ran fast at the head of the group, Adam helping the man right behind her. Peg was stumbling along, trying her best to keep up in the heavy awkward boots. A roar and a crash followed the group right behind them as a hulking brute of a dragon crashed through the wall. It was built like a tank, covered in black volcanic armour and snorting fire. It found Peg directly in front of it and roared, ready to charge. The girl screamed as she tried to run faster, tripping over her boots and falling to the floor. The dragon stomped over and gnashed its blackened rocky teeth at her.

"PEG!"

Adam nearly threw the wounded man aside to help his friend, but Rallis was faster. The girl stared up at the glowing red maw of the dragon, too scared to move. As it bit down, Rallis slid in front of her, catching the beast's jaws on her shield. With a hiss, the shield launched a flare of ice into its throat, extinguishing whatever flames it was about to set loose. The dragon whined in pain and staggered back, pawing at its throat. Rallis roughly grabbed Peg by the arm and threw her away from the monster, readying to defend them as it was already recovering.

"Rallis come on!" Adam snapped from down the way.

"Just keep going!" she ordered. "I'll be fine!" They ran off, no questions asked. If anyone knew how to handle a dragon, it was her.

Now recovered, the beast looked around in confusion. Where had its prey gone? It saw only the blue dragon and howled in rage. It stomped, ready to charge again.

"Wait, please!" Rallis tried in Wyvernic. "Please tell me what's wrong! I can help!"

It ignored her and charged, Rallis deflecting the blow with her shield as she dodged. It tried to hit her once more but rammed its armored head into the wall instead. Rallis dodged its charge once more and the beast slammed its shoulder into the hard rocky wall. It howled in pain and staggered, shaking from the blow. Confused, Rallis took a closer look. If this was a dragon, where it should have had wings there were instead two giants sores. They cracked and blistered between its shoulders as if they couldn't heal. Heat poured out from the sores, making the wounds burn even more.

"Did someone hurt you?" Rallis tried once more. "Please, tell me what's wrong!"

It righted itself from the blow and charged again in a fit of rage. Rallis leapt over the beast and onto its back, right between the wounds on its shoulders. It screeched and howled as it tried to buck her off. "Stop it! I'm trying to help!"

She held on and focused as best she could, trying to ready some of the runes in her pouch while still staying on the rampaging dragon. She then placed her hand on one of the sores, feeling the heat burn her glove, and concentrated. As she did, her hand glowed and so did the beast's wounds. As she held her hand in place, the two wounds started to heal and close, skin knitting itself together. Rallis whined in pain, feeling every bit of pain she was taking away from the dragon, and when the wounds finally healed, she fell to the ground screaming. She couldn't help it, it felt like her wings were on fire and burning off. The pain was so much it hurt to breathe, hurt to move, hurt to exist. She writhed and flailed on the ground as the glow disappeared from her hands and screamed herself hoarse.

Not understanding what just happened, the beast sniffed at Rallis, no longer blinded by rage. It didn't hurt anymore, not a bit! It poked her with its nose but that only seemed to make things worse.

"RALLIS!"

A voice bounced off the walls as its owner came closer. Adam dashed around the corner, winded, and found Rallis squirming on the ground and shrieking as the wingless dragon stood over her. He drew his sword and snarled. "WHAT DID YOU DO?! GET AWAY FROM HER!" Adam was at the beast in the blink of an eye and slammed his sword on its head. The armour plating knocked the blade away, hardly even leaving a scratch. The dragon shoved him away with a growl, growing angry once more. Adam readied to strike again but was stopped by his friend.

"STOP!" she cried from the floor. "Help. Please."

The man put his weapon away and scooped her off the floor. He warily eyed the beast but it did not strike. He gently pat her head as she tried to catch her breath. "Rallis what happened?"

Rallis swallowed her pain and tried to speak. "I healed it. It was hurt and angry so I healed it." She started to cry in his shoulder now. "It hurts so much!"

Adam ran back to the entrance of the mountain without another word. Now he had two people who needed help. The wingless dragon followed them a ways before stopping and making its way back to wherever it came from.

The four eventually made their way to the farming guild where the staff and Shayzien soldiers looked them over and helped however they could. The man was patched up but no one could find what was wrong with Rallis. She was just blistering hot and wanted water and lots of it. She passed out soon after.

Adam and Peg fretted over her as she napped under a tree. She seemed fine now, but they still worried. The snarling visage of the dragon chomping down made Peg shiver. She wondered how the two of them could face dangers like that every day without flinching. She would be sure to thank Rallis when she woke up. And she did wake up soon after the ordeal was over. The sun had begun to set and Rallis slowly pulled herself from the nice grassy spot under the dragonfruit tree. She sat up tiredly and grabbed a fruit, chomping into it and dripping pink juice everywhere.

"First thing after waking up you grab a snack? You're fine."

Rallis turned to see Adam shaking his head as she bit into the fruit. Peg was beside him, hiding a smile. "Oh did you want some?" the dragon asked as she held her half eaten fruit to them.

"No, no I'm good," Adam chuckled as Peg nodded. "You had us worried, you know! What did you do with that dragon? You were crying about how everything burned and hurt the whole way here."

Rallis turned away in shame. "I did? I'm sorry. I don't remember." She nibbled the fruit in her hands. "That dragon was mad because he was hurting so much. So I fixed him. But then it made me hurt. I don't remember anything after."

"You need to be more careful then," Adam told her. "You used that healing spell again, didn't you? That lunar magic is a double edged sword, you should know better."

"I just wanted to help," she pouted. "Are you okay by the way?" she addressed Peg.

The girl nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine." A pause. "Thank you for saving me. I was scared that... that..."

Rallis waved her hand. "Don't worry about it. I always help my friends! Is that guy we found okay too?"

Adam nodded. "The soldiers took him. He should be fine."

"That's good. I don't think the dragon meant it. He was just hurting."

The three spent the rest of the dwindling day at the guild, relaxing after the panic of earlier. After games and fun with the others in the guild, they went to the town nearby to spend the night. Rallis had smuggled a few more dragonfruit to go. Midnight snacks, she said. As the night grew late and her companions fell asleep, Rallis grabbed the fruit and snuck back off to Mount Karuulm. She hopped down the elevator, up the stairs, through the northern path, and into the lair of the wingless dragon. There it was, asleep on a pile of rocks and snoring away. It snorted awake as it heard something step closer, growling at the intruder. But at the sight of Rallis, it calmed down, sleepily raising its head in hello.

"Hey there," she cooed. "You doing alright now?" It snorted. "That's good. That hurt a lot. I'm glad I could help. Here I brought you something. They're really good!" She handed the dragon a fruit. It sniffed it cautiously before taking a bite, scarfing it down in a second after the first taste. Rallis laughed. "Told you it was good!" She took a bite of her own. "What's your name?"

The beast grunted. "Arvis? Hello, Arvis! I'm Rallis. Nice to properly meet you!"

The two spent a while chatting and eating fruit before Rallis had to get going. She skipped along back to town with a hum. 'Hopefully I can get Adam and Peg to come back,' she thought. 'I want to introduce them! Not in a mean way this time!' The dragon smiled as she skipped back and slithered back into bed with a smile, happy to make a new friend.

#osrs #runescape #my writes #oc tag

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