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southeastasianists · 4 years ago

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A lot has been written about Myanmar since the military takeover in the hours before dawn on Feb. 1. Much of it has been about the violence on the streets, which after a weekend when at least 114 people were shot dead is understandable. But more needs to be said about the reasons for the coup, the historical context for what we see today, and how both affect what is happening in full public view before an increasingly critical global audience.

It is time to tick a few boxes.

The past

The first time an elected government was removed in Myanmar was in 1962 when the Tatmadaw (armed forces) commander, General Ne Win, overthrew Prime Minister U Nu and abolished the 1947 independence constitution. It was an almost bloodless event that at the time many people saw as a logical and not unreasonable reaction to fears of the imminent disintegration of the then Union of Burma.

It was only later that Ne Win’s Revolutionary Council made up entirely of Tatmadaw officers launched what was known as the “Burmese Way to Socialism” and ultimately the end of Burma as a prosperous nation. Socialism was, however, used by Ne Win as the ideological glue binding the Tatmadaw and the civilian bureaucracies.

The evolution of Tatmadaw rule into the “Socialist Republic” in 1974 saw the institution of a one-party state with all significant offices held by the men of the Tatmadaw, who retired from their military command posts to take up parliamentary or other civilian positions.

The second, in 1988, was in part a takeover from itself. The collapse of the Ne Win system that year was accompanied by the promise of constitutional amendments allowing free-and-fair, multi-party elections. This promise was maintained by the new Tatmadaw regime, which styled itself with Orwellian flair as the State Law and Order Restoration Council (SLORC). Headed at first by General Saw Maung, and after 1992 by his deputy General Than Shwe, SLORC abolished the 1974 constitution.

SLORC decided it had restored law and order in 1997 and changed its title and defined purpose to become—with an inspiration that rivals Orwell’s “Ministry of Truth”—the State Peace and Development Council (SPDC). It is tempting to believe that Orwell, who wrote “Burmese Days” in 1934, saw this coming.

The SPDC remained a body formed by, and largely constituted of, Tatmadaw officers. It remained in office until March 2011, when it handed over power to the parliament elected under the 2008 Constitution, a document put to a national referendum by the SPDC and approved through a process widely described as rigged. The SPDC announced 94 percent of voters were in favor.

The 2008 Constitution included provisions that guaranteed Tatmadaw control of all essential state security functions, a quarter of the membership of all elected bodies, and a requirement that any proposal for constitutional amendment obtain three-quarters support in the national parliament—an effective veto over change.

The present

The National League for Democracy (NLD) was founded by Daw Aung San Suu Kyi in September 1988, 10 days after the SLORC seized power but pursuant to the promise of multi-party elections first mooted by Ne Win. Many tribulations befell her in the years that followed, but the NLD remained a registered political party despite persistent harassment of its leadership. The party was ordered to cease political activities in 2004. Daw Aung San Suu Kyi was seen by the Tatmadaw, and the population alike, as the only person with the stature and personality to deprive the military of its control, generating both fear and hope in both camps.

There was, however, a general appreciation of Daw Aung San Suu Kyi as the person most likely to make a difference, and also of her as a person who could achieve change with the support of large sections of the Tatmadaw because of her place in the country’s history—the daughter of independence hero General Aung San. It was because of this strength that she was kept under various forms of house arrest between 1989 and 2010 (with some breaks during which she was able to build the image of the NLD and herself throughout the country).

When she attained power after elections held in 2015, it was clear one of her priorities would be to remove the Tatmadaw’s control of parliaments by virtue of its 25 percent guarantee of the share of seats. Whenever this issue was raised, it was immediately clear the Tatmadaw leaders, especially commander-in-chief Senior General Min Aung Hlaing, would not entertain such a change. However, many others in Myanmar had believed that Snr-Gen Than Shwe’s Constitution was part of a planned transition from military to civilian rule.

The Myanmar general elections in 2015 were the first contested countrywide by the NLD. The result gave the NLD 86 percent of the seats in the national Parliament. This was more than enough for the election, by the Parliament, of the president. As Daw Aung San Suu Kyi had been rendered ineligible to be president by qualifications placed in the Than Shwe Constitution, the Parliament elected the nominee of the NLD at the time, U Htin Kyaw. He retired on health grounds in 2018 and was replaced by NLD nominee U Win Myint.

Approaching tomorrow

Tatmadaw commander-in-chief Snr-Gen Min Aung Hlaing has been in this office since March 2011 and so was present during the three presidencies since the retirement from public life of Snr-Gen Than Shwe. Many Myanmar people, including Tatmadaw officers, were surprised when he was elevated to this position by Snr-Gen Than Shwe, for he had not had a particularly distinguished army career and was promoted above many more senior colleagues.

In that sense, Snr-Gen Min Aung Hlaing was seen as a parallel to an earlier president, U Thein Sein, who was elevated by Snr-Gen Than Shwe and served between 2011 and 2016, despite there being others seen as more senior and deserving.

U Thein Sein quickly became a president who seemed to have the public’s interests at heart and was known for his instruction in 2011 to parliamentarians to go to their constituencies, meet the people, understand their problems, and bring them to the capital for solution. Nobody had ever done that before.

Snr-Gen Min Aung Hlaing, on the other hand, was widely rumored to have engaged in corrupt activities through ownership of shares in companies run by the military. Despite some efforts to meet a wider range of people than is normal for Tatmadaw commanders, he never won public admiration or trust.

The NLD won a stunning victory in the elections on Nov. 8 last year, when it improved on its 2015 numbers. There was a widespread expectation the NLD would lose some seats in ethnic regions, but would hold its numbers in the Bamar (ethnic Burmese) heartland. The elections were observed by respected international observers (such as the Asian Network for Free Elections and the Carter Center) as well as 13 accredited domestic groups. All found the procedures on election day stood the test of fairness.

When results started coming in, the first murmurings of dissatisfaction emerged from the Tatmadaw, matching protests lodged with the Election Commission by the pro-military Union Solidarity and Development Party (USDP). Nobody took the complaints seriously, and the country began to prepare for a peaceful transfer of power.

It was striking at the time to see how similar some of the protests were to those lodged in the US by people alleging voter fraud and other irregularities, and perhaps that dulled the impression that the protests should have generated. When challenged about the Tatmadaw’s intentions, and whether it would allow a peaceful transfer of power, the Tatmadaw spokesman played down the questions. It was not until a couple of days before the newly elected parliament was to meet for its swearing-in ceremony that anyone started to think that the ceremony might not take place.

Why Feb. 1?

At this point it’s necessary to note that the elections took place under Snr-Gen Than Shwe’s 2008 Constitution, held up by the Tatmadaw as the way forward. Had the new Parliament been sworn in as scheduled at 10 a.m. on Feb. 1, it would have had a five-year term ahead of it, under the Constitution.

It would have had the authority to choose the president and it would have been responsible for choosing the next Tatmadaw commander-in-chief when Snr-Gen Min Aung Hlaing compulsorily retired on July 3—his 65th birthday.

As banal as this sounds, Snr-Gen Min Aung Hlaing’s personal expectations stand out as the core element in the takeover and its date. It is widely believed he aspired to the national presidency himself, but the size of the NLD victory dashed that hope, and also introduced the real possibility that antipathy to the Tatmadaw everywhere in the country would permit Daw Aung San Suu Kyi to mobilize the people for constitutional change aimed at reducing Tatmadaw influence.

There are plenty of signs that most of the people were looking forward to the swearing-in of the new Parliament, and few signs that the Tatmadaw or the police were preparing for anything else. When the army and police struck, there were no signs of much preparation. People detained were at home or asleep, and they were not taken off to detention sites for some time, sometimes for days or longer. There were no measures in place to lock down communications or take any action for public control. There was no immediate release of legal language to justify what was being done.

In other words, although some close observers did say they had picked up noises that the Tatmadaw might move before the Parliament was sworn in, very few of those in power, including in the NLD, saw it coming. Snr-Gen Min Aung Hlaing would have anticipated no serious resistance.

Afterwards

The situation which confronted Snr-Gen Min Aung Hlaing and his self-appointed State Administrative Council was the appearance on the streets, day and night, of millions—yes, millions—of Myanmar citizens demanding respect for the Nov. 8 elections and the resumption of democratic government.

Now, almost two months later, the demonstrations continue, undeterred by extreme violence. They are everywhere in the country, from the big cities to the villages and involve people of all ethnicities, religions, cultures, genders and age groups. Age is a special consideration, for the demonstrators include the bulk of the country’s youth, most born and raised after Gen. Saw Maung’s takeover in 1988 and virtually all, thanks to President U Thein Sein, fully internet-literate.

Internet literacy enables the population, led by the youth, to communicate with each other, and with their colleagues and friends outside Myanmar. This has produced a great deal of public pressure from outside the country, and while most of the Tatmadaw have not traveled widely, nearly all of them have relatives who have. There is much more knowledge of the outside world now than in 1988, and the lessons which Snr-Gen Min Aung Hlaing would have learned as a young man would no longer fit to the world he inhabits now.

Tomorrow

The indications from yesterday and today say that this is where astrologers (very popular in Myanmar) would be looking:

#Southeast Asia #Burma #Myanmar #Military Junta #Military Coup

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herzlak · 3 years ago

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Team Münster playing Red Dead Redemption 2:

Thiel:

rides out for hours on his own, superb gunslinger, always clean headshots, owns one draft horse he stole somewhere, owns the most decent guns, doesn't do side quests if they ain't necessary, hates Swanson and Uncle, preferred playing as John, doesn't name his horses, his Arthur either's got world's longest beard and messy hair or no hair on his face at all, calls Nadeshda "Sadie 2.0" after finishing the game, doesn't have a lot of money, donates animals to Pearson, always back at camp in time for stew, found out where Princess Isabeau is but won't tell you, smells when there's an ambush, never ever visited the theatre

Boerne:

tried and failed to tame the white Arabian, still stuck with some Tennessee Walker he stole, can't ride through Saint Denis without starting a shootout, thinks Dutch is smooth, already got about two dozen horses killed in battles, not happy with the fact that there's no wine at the saloon, QUESTS, didn't finish the game because playing John annoyed the shit outta him, "it's probably an ambush so I won't help", never donates money to the gang, antagonises everyone, doesn't help a damsel in distress, reads spoilers, well dressed Arthur with moustache, low honour, thinks Javier is cool, antagonises John, has not picked up one herb ever and won't start it now

Alberich:

high honor, well groomed Arthur, owns two horses, figured out that a Missouri Foxtrotter is better than the Arabian, managed to get the Silver Dapple Pinto at the end of the mission with Mr Mason, cried when Arthur died, likes the girls as well as Lenny and Kieran, does all stranger missions, managed to complete 100%, saw straight through half of the plot back in Colter already, first one to realise that Dutch is gonna damn the entire gang, doesn't hunt because she's sorry for the animals, kills folk who need killing, Hosea > Dutch, surprisingly good at shooting, stops to pat dogs, raged when Hosea was shot, doesn't antagonise anyone other than Micah, gets headaches from missions with Dutch

Mirko:

not once got a horse killed, higher honour than Jesus, cried when Arthur and his horse died, never out of food, not that good at shooting, spends a lot of time at camp talking to gang members, never liked Micah, thinks Swanson and Molly deserved better, got four horses and loves them all dearly, didn't sell the black Shire, loves stranger missions, adores the landscape, felt really uncomfortable in Chapters 5 and 6, doesn't always kill but hogtie people when he has to, goes collecting herbs, reads Arthur's journal, Mary-Beth and Tilly are his favourites, Charles too, bought a pink shirt for Arthur, played Online once and got traumatised for his life

Klemm:

first thing she bought were cigars, kept the black Shire because it's dark and scary, owns three horses, all of them are black, best at quick draw, killed more O'Driscolls than Sadie, would win a battle against 50 Lemoyne Raiders, her Arthur looks like a killer, secretly likes Charles, greet greet antagonise, 400$ bounty in every state, doesn't spare folk, more cigarettes in her bag than food, mid honour to everyone's surprise, dresses Arthur like a true killer, definitely won't wash the blood off after a gun fight, gallops through Saint Denis without hesitation, regularly kills gators

Nadeshda:

Sadie is her spirit animal, free roamed back in Colter already, killed the entire Murfree Brood when she was still in Chapter 2, owns a Turkoman, prefers The Last of Us over RDR2, plays Online more than Story, robs stage coaches when she's bored, dislikes Mary Linton, likes to go bounty hunting, grew to despise Dutch, always loots corpses, not a shack she hasn't robbed, stayed away from Sonny's shack tho, beats Micah at five finger fillet, likes a drink or two at the saloon, *stabs*, takes missions very seriously, tried to get to Blackwater more than once

Vaddern:

spends hours riding around the country, usually found in the Heartlands, always busy collecting tobacco, still rides the Morgan he got when getting to Valentine first, always misses out on side missions, stopped playing somewhere in Chapter 3, plays poker and loses all his money, worse aiming skills than a blind, his horse was fatally injured several times but he wipes out a reviver any time and no one knows how, never been to Roanoke or Saint Denis, searches for his hat until he finds it even if it's the last thing he'll do, only notices enemies when it's too late, rumor has it that he's taken on Animal Crossing after failing RDR2, low honour by accident but he doesn't realise it anyways

Bulle:

didn't make it out of Colter due to sheer lack of skill, plays GTA now because "it's cooler"

#tatort münster

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darlingsdevil · 5 years ago

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The Setting Sun (Arthur Morgan x Reader)

I sincerely apologize again, I cannot add a read more tab on mobile.

Summary: Your marriage with Arthur isn’t going too smoothly.

F!Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Swearing, verbally abusive relationship, degrading terminology pertaining to women, violence.

Words: 3.6k

A/N: Sorry for the angst.. I guess? This will be a two part fic.

Slight spoilers

•••

You had heard the whispers around camp as your marriage fell apart. The women slyly mumbled about your fighting, and how they were sure you didn’t sleep in the same bed as him anymore. The men were more open about their observations and their rumors, especially Micah who nearly begged you to take his hand in marriage the second you called it quits with Arthur. Both the men and the women grumbling in the morning when your fighting seeped into the late hours of the night. But it wasn’t either of their talk that drove you mad, it was the disapproving look from Dutch. He looked at you like you had failed his son, which you had.

You were hot headed and Arthur was spiraling down a path of rage. The way he looked at you these days were cold, filled with anger, even when you weren’t fighting. Arthur looked sick at even the sight of you, like you were a monster in his bed. Arthur was met with cold glares and disapproving eyes when not fighting.

It was awful, nearly every night tears fell from your eyes when you decided to cool off by the river while Arthur got to sleep in his tent, scribbling away at that stupid journal. Your face hot, voice scratchy from screaming.

Hosea had asked you once if you would like to leave for a month or two and come back, once the dust had settled between you two, and your marriage could be repaired from the little threads that were still holding it together. You decided if it became that bad, you would, but you wouldn’t let Arthur run you out of your home that easily. Perhaps it had gotten ‘too bad’ too long ago. You had been in the gang nearly just as long as he had been and you grew up together.

Arthur hated fighting with you, he could tell your jabs at each other were pent up emotions from long ago. But when things got firey, and the truth was spewed from eachother, you felt the riff grow larger and larger between you. You didn’t like fighting, neither did he, but something in your blood got hot and your eyes blinded by rage, the moment your husband said anything. He was the same, like everything he said would come out ten times worse than he meant it, like he couldn’t control himself from letting every mean thing he thought of, come from his mouth. Every jab, every screaming match, every fight tore you from him.

You tried your best to remember every good moment with him, how he used to make you feel. How you felt when he would catch you staring or the first time he kissed you, blushing faces and shy glances. But the worst moments with him stuck in your mind even when you weren’t upset with him. It felt like the bad was outweighing the good. Bad memories clouding your mind, covering the good ones.

Arthur left for jobs more frequently, taking the longest ones so he wouldn’t have to see you. Arthur was so sick of fighting, he had to get away.

Apologies were never frequent. He rarely ever slept besides you, that had long since been out of the question. You were like a stranger in his bed, nothing more than a common whore he could use whenever he wanted, nothing like the sweet Arthur who would be so gentle with you, slow touches like he was afraid that you would break.

Your marriage was falling apart, and you were both the culprits. You barely felt anything for him besides anger, your pride refusing to allow yourself to miss him. But deep down, your heart ached every time you let him walk away, let him turn his back on you. Where did it all go wrong?

It started with simple bickering, turned into infrequent fights, and then arguments that left you sobbing and dizzy, his words repeating in your brain, over and over until that’s all you could think about.

One afternoon, when Arthur had been gone for days, you found a letter in Arthur’s trunk. You were looking for an old skirt to make into a blanket, the Heartlands air was unforgiving at night and without Arthur’s body heat next to you, you were frozen.

You noticed how the envelope was already opened, gingerly, not with a letter opener or even torn. You weren’t going to look inside, you weren’t that nosy, but the name on the outside left you pondering.

Mary Linton

Judging by how carefully Arthur had opened the letter, the letter stuck out to you. Something wasn’t right. While Arthur’s absence was not uncommon, you were perplexed by the name. Why did it stand out?

Until it finally hit you, your heart dropped to your stomach. You felt sick. Mary Linton was Mary Gillis, Arthur’s ex fiancé. He had convinced you years ago she was nothing to worry about. You were about to examine the contents when you felt someone behind you.

Arthur snatched the letter from your hands, glaring at you. His eyes shot daggers right through you.

“What the fuck is that, Arthur?” You asked accusingly.

“It’s none of your goddamn business,” Arthur growled in response. He held the letter behind him, guarding it like it was something precious.

“Why did that whore send you a letter?” You couldn’t control the words coming out of your mouth. Anger rose in you at the disrespect.

“Don’t look through my things again,” Arthur turned away, ready to walk off.

“Nope. You don’t get to walk away, tell me what that woman wants from you,” You yelled at him, Arthur swiveled around, his entire face enraged.

“What the hell are accusing me of?”

“I don’t know. What’s it sound like?” You spat back at him, crossing your arms in a defiant stance.

“You’re accusing me of cheating on you?” Arthur scoffed.

“I’m sure you’ve done a hell of a lot worse while you were with me,” You shot back. It was verbal war, and you were both stuck in the crossfire.

“Shut your mouth, woman. You’re walking on thin ice,” Arthur said in a low voice, inching closer to you.

“I might as well dance then. Don’t tell me to shut my fucking mouth, tell that slut to shut her fucking legs.”

Arthur’s nose twitched, he didn’t care about holding back. He would already regret saying something bad.

“You really think I’m banging Mary?”

You were silent, glaring at him. You looked at him like he was the most vile thing on the planet.

“Well then you’re dumber than I expected. Maybe if you had snooped around my stuff before I got back you would have been able to read it,” Arthur held the letter, waving it in front of you.

“I fucking hate you,” Your voice rose, anger building up in you like it was the only thing you could ever feel again.

Arthur nodded, turning away from you, “Like I don’t already know that.”

Hot tears began trailing down your face, as you covered your mouth. You didn’t mean to say that. Your heart beat rushed in your ears. Everything felt awful, Arthur started walking away from you.

“Don’t walk away, you smug bastard!” Your voice cracked, like you were begging him to turn around and tell you everything was alright. You felt your knees almost give out, everything felt dizzy as the blood rushed to your head. Your chest heaved with sobs, your legs giving out as you fell to the ground with a thud.

Arthur continued walking away, he couldn’t handle the shouting, he couldn’t handle the pain. It was suffocating. He held his chin high, as he felt the ground underneath him. Arthur’s emotions were bubbling underneath him, he so desperately wanted to turn around and ask to stop the fighting, the pain, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t let himself.

“I never want to see you ever again!” You shouted as your heart completely shattered into a thousand pieces. You leaned against his trunk, sobs racking through your body, pain erupting through your entire body.

Arthur didn’t turn around, not even to look around at your ruined state at the foot of his bed.

You had to get out of this camp, away from this gang. The members of the camp already began their gossip, a few sneaking glances at you. Their gossip was loud, bouncing off your skull, every rumor suffocating you.

You stood up quickly, feeling everyone’s eyes on you, their judging eyes piercing through you. You rummaged through your things from Arthur’s tent, grabbing only your essential items. You took the blanket off of his bed and made a makeshift sack out of it, tying all your things in it. You took one last look at your family, they might not even be here when you left but that was a chance you were willing to take. You were willing to go it alone for awhile if it meant things would cool down.

You rushed to your mare, you hopped on her and stormed away, through the thicket. You heard someone shout your name but you didn’t look back, leaving behind everything you had ever known.

The sun was beginning to set in the western sky, so you rode towards it, feeling like you were untouchable yet breakable all at the same time. Like a pound of bricks couldn’t hurt you, but a light feather could easily. You were like a bomb, one wrong move and everything could come shattering down.

The cool air was freeing, you only slowed for your horse to breathe, though she adored the run. When you began thinking clearer, it had been too far to turn back. It was completely dark out now, it would be foolish to continue riding.

You found a nice spot on a cliff's edge, hidden by a thicket of trees. It was your home for the night, not perfect but it would do. You unrolled your blanket and set it down on the stone. The cliff overlooked all of the Heartlands it seemed. The sky was a brilliant blue, with speckles of diamonds sewn in, weaved throughout.

Arthur was likely looking at the same sky, you wondered if he was thinking of the same things. You wondered if he was looking for you, waiting for you to come home to him.

You loved Arthur, you did, you loved him since the day you met him. You didn’t want to fight with him, ever.

Maybe you would’ve warned the young girl you once were if you had gotten the chance, but there was no turning back now.

Surprisingly, the night brought you peace, a stark contrast to the heat that burned you during the day.

You wondered if this was the final straw with Arthur, if you had fucked things up too badly. Mary Linton was no rival, you knew Arthur would never do such a thing. It hurt to remember what you said to him, to the man you loved so dearly. Vicious words cutting so deep, that you were even surprised they had come from your mouth.

You were both to blame. Your hearts no longer beating in sync, a riff in between you. A stranger in your own bed.

“I never want to see you ever again!”

The last thing you said to him. You hadn’t even meant it. You wondered if the universe would play some cruel trick on you for saying such an awful thing.

Sleep came rather peacefully, drifting away while you thought of everything you should have done differently.

The night sky twinkled, Arthur stared at it from the edge of his bed. Regretting his actions during the day, he couldn’t sleep. If only he had just told you that Mary needed his help, instead of hiding it. No one knew where you went and he was worried sick. Arthur wondered if this was it, after all the verbal cyanide, the brutal end to a sad story.

He hoped it wasn’t.

•••

Three weeks passed, since you had taken a break from the gang. A well needed break, that was for sure. You no longer hated the thought of Arthur, instead you missed him, wondering how you could be so blind. You craved Arthur’s touch, for him to hold you, for the first time in what felt like years.

When you would return, you would apologize for everything that you had done, you would make it up to him. Everything would go back to normal.

No one bothered you as you lived off the land, you had been to Valentine only once. You prayed no one would be in town while you were there, luckily no one was. You had even gone as far as to scope out Horeshoe Overlook, it was still thriving, you could see almost everyone through your binoculars. You even caught a glimpse of Arthur, he tried to hide his distress but you could tell something was troubling him. Arthur was talking with Dutch, Dutch looking nearly as distressed as him. After a few moments, you decided to leave before anyone came snooping around.

That was a week ago, you were going to return to camp in a day. Uneasiness grew on you throughout the night, you wondered if Arthur would ever take you back.

At night, you watched the sky again, it was clear again, not a cloud in all of it’s endlessness. You ate your supper for the last time in your small home, it had become rather nice. You bought a tent from Valentine and even found some books to go along with it.

Your expedition into the wilderness left you with a lot of time to think, but tonight your mind wouldn’t muster a single thought. Like all your thoughts had suddenly vanished.

Sleep didn’t come quite as easily, your body not allowing yourself to drift into the realm of sleep. Though your body felt heavy with worry, you felt nearly weightlessness, like you were drifting on a cloud, above everything.

As you stared into the black sky, you heard a snap behind you. You immediately reached for your gun, on high alert. Your fingers trailing over the trigger. Anyone who dared mess with you would get a face full of lead.

Another crunch. This was no animal, animals were not that quiet.

“Who’s there?” You called out, your voice rising above the trees.

A third snap, you turned immediately to where you heard it, aiming your gun towards the thicket.

A man with a wolfish grin stepped out, looking at you like you were a piece of meat.

“What’s a little lady like yourself doing out here all alone?” The man inched closer to you, taking slow steps. The shadows casted on the man, making him look unnatural, almost like a monster.

“Another step and I’ll blow your fucking head off,” You barked, aiming your gun at his head.

A second man stepped out from behind you, you swiveled around to face him, the first man pulled out his own gun and aimed it at the back of your head, you felt the cool metal on your head. You narrowed your eyes at the second man, your veins growing hot.

You thought for a moment, weighing your options.

Almost instantly, you elbowed the man behind you, knocking his gun out of his hand, before the second man could react, you shot him in the face, he fell to the ground in a gorey mess.

“Oh, you little bitch!” The first man shouted, delirious and enraged. He tackled you, right as you were turning to face him. The man pinned you to the forest floor, your mind was being taken over by the survival instinct. He punched you directly in the face, the force of it making you see stars, you kicked out your legs, staggering him for a moment so you could throw a punch, right in the nose, his nose cracked underneath your knuckles. The man fell off of you, his nose spewing blood, the bone in a crooked shape.

He cradled his nose with one hand, the other scrambling for his gun that had been knocked out of his hand. Your mind was fuzzy, you got up as quickly as you could, your face aching.

The man reached for his gun, you aimed your own, on the ground he aimed at you and fired. You fired your own gun, both bullets seemingly moving in slow motion as they passed each other. The gunshot was loud, nearly deafening. The man was dead, the bullet went straight through his head.

You almost didn’t feel the bullet until seconds later. Pain erupted in your abdomen, you felt the slick blood pool out of you, darkening your blouse.

The bullet tore through your flesh with every step you took, you rushed to your horse, wincing. Blood got all over her silky coat, like an abstract painting. You set off back to camp, through the forest and deserts of the Heartlands.

Pain continued to develop in your stomach, your mind started going fuzzy. The air whipped around you, as you rode hard back to camp. Every jolt shot pain in your stomach. The only thing you could think about was reaching camp, being home finally.

Black spots began clouding your vision, the terrain slowly becoming more and more familiar. You felt weak, like all your limbs were ten times heavier. Blood continued to pool out of you, a slow, but steady stream.

You leaned against your mare’s head, your own head too heavy to keep up. She was a pretty horse, strong and loyal.

Why had you been so foolish to leave camp? Why had you been so foolish to be horrible to Arthur? Where did it all go wrong?

You regretted a thousand things it seemed. A thousand things you would never get to see, it seemed. Repairing your marriage with Arthur, owning a small farm with him when things cooled down, having a little girl and a little boy that looked just like him, growing old with Arthur, simple things. You would miss it all.

You could barely see now, your mind slowly going blank. Your limbs no longer feeling attached to your body. You could just barely make out Horseshoe Overlook in front of you, the lights dim and shapeless.

This was death, it seemed so distant and so close all at the same time. Peaceful and painful. You let your eyes close for the final time, just as you reached the outskirts of the camp.

You slowly slipped off your horse, into the grassy ground.

This was death. You had gotten your wish.

•••

Arthur heard a scream from the other side of camp, immediately shooting up from his bed. It sounded like one of the women. The other men came rushing to that side of camp, Arthur grabbing his own gun and dragging himself out of bed.

A large group gathered by something on the ground, it was silent, no one saying anything. The entire group turned to Arthur, splitting to make a path for him.

You were on the ground, bloody, and lifeless. Arthur’s eyes widened as he kneeled next to you. He could barely believe what he was seeing.

“No, no, no, no. Wake up, come on darlin’, wake up,” Arthur shook his head, grabbing your limp hand. At first, he was sure you would wake up.

“God damnit, wake up,” Arthur said louder, shaking you. Anger, grief and disbelief in his voice.

“She’s not waking up, Arthur,” Susan said from behind him, her voice breaking. He heard sobs from behind him, someone put a hand on his shoulder.

It was silent, everyone holding their breath. They watched him with intent, making sure he would not crack. The crickets chirped in the distant, the air from his lungs being sucked out.

Everything cruel he had ever said to you, everytime he had ever convinced himself he hated you, flooded his mind. Everything he did wrong, everything that went wrong.

Arthur brushed the hair from your face, holding back his tears. The crowd dispersed from behind him, leaving him alone with you. He covered his mouth to stop the sobs that would escape his mouth otherwise.

The anger and sadness that ripped through him, a sudden pit in his stomach that would never go away from now until he died. His entire world had been knocked out of place, thrown off track.

His chest heaved with pain. He was never able to make it right with you, and that would live with him forever. Knowing you died thinking he hated you, it was unbearable.

“You weren’t supposed to go like this,” Arthur whispered to you, he lightly held your face like you were fragile.

Arthur slowly picked you up, holding your cold body in his strong arms.

“We were supposed to make up, get out of this life, have a few kids, run a little farm,” Arthur poured his heart out to you, carrying you to the outskirts of camp. The patrons of camp bowed their heads as he passed them, a silent goodbye.

“I’m so sorry,” Arthur said to you, clutching you close to him, his hands shaking. Blood getting all over his clothes, staining them, even when the blood went away he still could smell the stench of blood on them. A forever mark on his soul.

Arthur buried you that night, on a little hill surrounded with flowers, overlooking the setting sun. A part of him died with you. He would remember the last words you had ever said to him, and how he had simply walked away.

Arthur never forgave himself.

•••

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 x reader #wild west #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 spoilers #arthur morgan x f!reader #tw: toxic relationship

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notapaladin · 3 years ago

Text

so say you’ll stay with me tonight (redux)

Hey, it’s ANOTHER fic I couldn’t leave alone because I wasn’t satisfied! This one fits the vibe I was going for better and is also like 2k words longer. In which Acatl has a bad day, but Teomitl walks him home and his night is so much better.

Original version here.

Also on AO3.

Tizoc is—regrettably—still Emperor today. Acatl’s trying very hard not to let it bother him, but it’s hard not to when the man has summoned all three High Priests and the master engineers to discuss his plans for the grand new renovation of the Great Temple currently underway. The renovation which, yes, is likely necessary, but not now. Not yet. It’s only been a year and a half since the plague. He meets Acamapichtli and Quenami’s gazes sidelong and knows they know it too.

Not that they say anything, of course. Cowards. Cowards and fools. Acatl shifts on his mat, calves aching, and grinds his teeth. (He wishes he were braver.)

They’re arrayed around a series of blueprints, some of them dating back to the very first iteration of the Great Temple. Wards and glyphs have been drawn in the corners of the later ones—the High Priests’ predecessors having planned ahead for their successors—but the oldest ones have no such guidelines. If those are damaged, they’ll have to use their best judgement. Or, more likely, the contents of the Temple archives which Quenami keeps under wards so heavy they give Acatl a nosebleed. The engineers don’t care about any of that; their job is solely to satisfy the Revered Speaker. One of them is currently leaning over a rendition of the current temple, gesturing to make his point. “Of course, my lord, if you wish the most dazzling effect for the end pieces it would be best to place the support beams for the underlying structure here and here, but...”

Tizoc’s eyes narrow. “But?”

“Ah. It may be less structurally sound. Not that it would collapse immediately, you understand, but in ten or fifteen years’ time...”

“Bah! I’ll handle it then. We can always remake it.”

Or you’ll leave it for your successor to handle? You’ll make Teomitl deal with this? His jaw tightens.

“As you wish, my lord. Now, that will require the scaffolding poles to be driven into the previous layer—yes, Acatl-tzin?”

He must have made an involuntary noise. Swallowing back the first three or four protestations that come to mind (there are so many wards written and carved into that layer which would have to be dismantled completely and the gods only know if they’re dependent on older ones, if even a single brick of Coyolxauhqui’s prison is exposed to moonlight all the hearts’ blood in the world won’t keep them safe), he says...

Nothing. He says nothing. Tizoc—he won’t distinguish the man with a -tzin, not anymore, not after what he did to Tlaloc’s clergy—is studying him like a particularly disgusting bug, and he thinks of his own priests and loses all his nerve. He shakes his head silently.

The engineers continue. Quenami, naturally, has plenty of suggestions. Yes, those dimensions for the new foundation are pleasing. Yes, of course there will be no problem procuring the limestone and basalt. Yes, it will be easy for us (this with a gloating look at Acamapichtli and Acatl that makes the High Priest of Tlaloc’s eyes go dark and furious and makes Acatl himself entertain vivid fantasies of strangulation) to weave the wards anew. There will be nothing to fear. All will know and glory to the name of Tizoc-tzin, who made the Temple great again.

And Tizoc preens. He knows nothing of wards or of magic beyond the most basic things they teach all noblemen’s children in the calmecac, and so he knows nothing of why everything he’s proposing is immensely dangerous for the safety of their world. He has never descended into the depths of the Temple to stand atop Coyolxauhqui’s prison and feel her hatred, her rage. He doesn’t care. He simply wants it expanded now, before anyone can somehow steal his glory—not that he says that, of course, but it shines greasily through in every word. Acatl tries very hard to let his voice wash over him without picking out specifics. That way lies only impotent fury, and they simply aren’t stable enough yet that he can risk drawing Tizoc’s ire. He may have Teomitl’s fondest regard, but Teomitl is still only Master of the House of Darts. Soon, he thinks. Soon.

“My lord, of course we can redo the steps down to the center as well, but...”

“Out with it.”

“Will we have enough sacrifices to remake the wards on them? They will need to be incised into the stone—”

Tizoc’s voice rises to a pitch that reminds him of a peccary with a chest cold. “You dare ask me that? Have we not won great victories? Have we not brought back dozens, hundreds of sacrifices already? Do you doubt the strength and valor of our armies?”

...Not soon enough.

He shifts again, allowing himself a brief grimace at the ache in his back and thighs. They’ve never been the same since his sojourn in the Heartlands. Every day he looks at Tizoc and thinks, I can’t believe I fought Itzpapalotl for your sake. But he did, and now they have a Revered Speaker who leads their warriors to be slaughtered and calls ir victory. He doubts whether Tizoc’s ever personally captured a prisoner in his life.

Teomitl could bring back more than enough captives, he thinks, if you only got out of his way and let him lead your army the way he’s supposed to. Between Teomitl and Neutemoc, he’s started to gain some secondhand knowledge of battle strategy, enough to understand that the relative failures of the campaigns under Tizoc’s reign are due in large part to the man’s own mix of paranoid micromanagement and reckless overconfidence. Teomitl’s not at all shy in voicing his opinions on it.

The engineer is sweating now. Rumors buzz like flies in the palace, and they say that the last person who publicly gainsaid the Revered Speaker simply disappeared. No official investigation was made, but that man’s widow had nevertheless been brave enough to contact Acatl. He didn’t find any magical residue, but of course that didn’t rule out foul play. They’d both known who the culprit was anyway. But this man is smarter or more cowardly, and so he lowers his head and says, “Never, my lord. They still sing of your latest campaign in the streets. It is merely that the reconsecration of the Great Temple is vital, and I wished to know whether you desired extra protection for the boundaries.”

If Tizoc was an intelligent man, he would say yes. The boundaries are still weak, terribly weak, due simply to his presence. Though they’ve been sewn up—thank the gods for Mihmatini—they’re far from impermeable. Acatl can feel them wiggle like a loose tooth if he presses too hard. And the Great Temple is their best and largest anchor with such a weak Revered Speaker on the throne. Until Teomitl is crowned, they need all the help they can get to keep the stars in the sky and She of the Silver Bells in chains.

Tizoc is not an intelligent man. He scoffs, shaking his head in a manner horribly reminiscent of Teomitl at his most arrogant. Except this is worse, because Teomitl has good qualities to make up for it. Tizoc has none. “That won’t be necessary. My High Priests will have it well in hand, won’t you?”

Quenami takes it upon himself to speak for them all. “Of course, my lord.”

Acatl remains silent. He can’t bear to look at Quenami just yet or he might snap, but when he turns his head he catches Acamapichtli’s eye and realizes he knows that expression. It’s the same one he almost certainly has on his own face. How dare he? After what Tizoc did to your clergy, and what he’s doing to the boundaries, he has the nerve to make our jobs even harder? And it will certainly be their jobs, because if Quenami bestirs himself for anything short of Coyolxauhqui physically manifesting on the Temple steps, Acatl will eat his own sandals. Without chili sauce.

Tizoc waves a hand. “You see? Proceed.”

The two engineers exchange looks before the man dubbed unofficial spokesman nods. “As you wish, my lord.”

It’s late by the time they get out of that meeting, and all he can think is that he does not want to spend one more second within the palace walls. He wants his own house, and his own mat, and his—

Well. He wants Teomitl. In general he doesn’t want to be alone, but in specific he wants Teomitl—wants to wrap his arms around him, hold him close, kiss that soft and smiling mouth. They haven’t made any promises or put words on what they are to each other. Teomitl’s optimism so far hasn’t extended itself to that, and Acatl isn’t sure he can be the first one to say it. But he knows his own heart well enough to tell how he feels. How he’s been feeling ever since that first day months ago, when Teomitl had turned back from that view of the city on his temple steps and smiled at him.

(Not, admittedly, that he’d said anything. Not then. It had taken them weeks of meeting for meals, of watching Teomitl patch up his relationship with Mihmatini, of nearly giving up—for surely he had no right to come between them. Of staring at his mouth and wondering what it might be like to kiss it. Had it not been for Teomitl showing up at his door the night before he left for his next campaign, he might still be wondering.)

His—lover? He supposes that’s the best word—is somewhere in the palace, but Acatl hasn’t seen him all day. This mess with the Great Temple has taken up all his time. He’s seriously debating the idea of going to look for him. Of finding him wherever he’s been spending his time, pulling him aside, telling him...

I want you.

I missed you.

Come home with me.

That idea makes his face heat. They’ve stolen plenty of time together, but never has Teomitl spent the night at his house. (He doesn’t count that time after Axayacatl’s death. He’d been asleep for that, and also still so deep in denial that he wouldn’t have been able to find his way out with a tall ladder and a map.) To do that now would be...well. His eyes have been opened, and he’s fairly sure they wouldn’t be spending too much time sleeping.

“Acatl!”

He jolts; he’s been so lost in thought that he didn’t even hear those impatient, beloved footfalls approaching from behind. The hallway is empty, so he doesn’t have that excuse either. Something in his heart clicks and settles into warm contentment as he turns around. “Teomitl,” he says, and adds—because it’s the truth—“I was just thinking about you.”

Teomitl doesn’t quite blush, but his smile goes measurably warmer around the edges. He looks good all in red and white, with gold earflares and a simple gold lip plug that draws Acatl’s eye to the curve of his lower lip. He’s loosened his hair and taken out the feather ornaments, so he must have finished his own work. “And I was just looking for you. Are you all done for the day?”

“...Unless some emergency beckons, yes.” He really hopes it doesn’t. Duality, just give him one night.

“I’m glad.” And Teomitl draws closer, slowing his pace to match. “Heading home?”

He nods, and then takes a breath. There’s no reason for him to be nervous, but asking for it while knowing what he wants makes his heart beat a little faster anyway. “Walk with me?”

Teomitl beams, and somehow he falls even deeper in love. “Of course.”

They’re quiet for a while. He knows he could break the silence; now that he’s fallen into the habit of speaking his feelings out loud with Teomitl, his lover always has an understanding ear to lend when he needs to unleash his frustrations. It had been a pleasant surprise to curse Quenami’s name and have Teomitl spare no vitriol in his own assessment of the man’s character. But it feels good just to walk side by side with him, and he doesn’t want to ruin the mood. Besides, walls in the palace always have ears, and he’s sure it would get back to Tizoc somehow. Instead he focuses on the warmth of Teomitl’s body next to his, almost close enough to touch. The scent of lingering copal incense and sun-warmed skin reaches him and he thinks, Oh, this is nice. (It could be nicer. They could be holding hands. But they have to be discreet, still, and so he can’t risk it.)

(Gods, he wants to see Teomitl crowned.)

It’s not until they leave the palace that Teomitl says, “So. Tizoc’s still going ahead with his...refurbishment.”

Acatl grimaces. “Indeed.”

“Didn’t listen to any of the reasons why he shouldn’t.”

He bites his lip. “I...”

Teomitl turns to look at him, frowning, but then understanding dawns. “...I see.” He looks like he wants to say something else—probably something angry—but all he does is sigh and shake his head. “I tried too, and he brushed me aside. He’s only thinking of his legacy and not what it might do to us. It’s probably for the best that you didn’t say anything; he’d think we were conspiring against him.”

Acatl considers this. Looks at him.

Teomitl looks mildly offended. “I did say I’d give him time.”

“You did.” And he slides his fingers against the back of Teomitl’s hand to show he’s not upset, nor holding a grudge. After all, he’d meant it when he’d said there was no need for apologies between them. It has the desired effect, because Teomitl’s eyes grow warm and bright.

And then he leans in and murmurs, “Unless you’d rather I not.”

“Teomitl,” he huffs, but he can’t be mad. Teomitl’s wearing the half-grin that means he’s not entirely serious—that says yes, he might still kill his own brother on Acatl’s orders, but it’s far more important to him that Acatl has asked him not to. Acatl trusts that now. “Please don’t.” After a moment’s thought he adds, “At least warn me and Mihmatini first when you do.”

Now Teomitl’s really smiling, though it’s somewhat rueful. “I wouldn’t dream of doing anything else. You know that.”

“I do.” He angles himself as he walks so that their arms brush and lets the tenderness he feels color his voice. I know you, my heart. And he’s suddenly more than mildly annoyed that they’re still in the Sacred Precinct, because the way Teomitl is looking at him with soft, shining eyes desperately makes him wish he could kiss him right here. If he were braver, he thinks he might even risk it; he knows where the shadows of the temple gates will hide them from prying eyes, and he knows how sweetly Teomitl presses against him when he’s pleased.

Though he says nothing, it must show on his face, because Teomitl takes advantage of the camouflage provided by their billowing cloaks to firmly lace their fingers together. His voice lowers, rich with promise. “We should fetch dinner before we reach your place. Unless you want to cook? I hope you do; we’ll need our energy.”

He knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’s blushing. “I. Um.”

“Well?”

“...I leave a pot of stew on the hearth in the morning.” It’s a habit he’s gotten into since Tizoc’s begun these building preparations; they often go long enough that he’s ravenous by the time they’re over, and utterly unwilling to expend any more brainpower on exactly how to fill his stomach. It’s hard to overcook stew, after all. “Though I don’t know if it will be to your taste—”

Teomitl holds up a hand to stop him. “Acatl. You know my feelings on your cooking.”

He snorts, shaking his head. They’ve had this conversation before. “I still think you flatter me far too much.”

Teomitl pokes his side teasingly. “And I think you underestimate the effects of a meal made with care and devotion by a man I trust above all others in the Empire.” Acatl’s heart skips a beat, so of course the moment’s ruined when he follows it up with, “I’d eat what you made if it came out as charcoal.”

“Well, hopefully this won’t be that bad.” Honesty compels him to add, “It may be a bit spicy. I wasn’t expecting company when I put it all together.”

Teomitl huffs, “I can handle spice!”

He makes a mental note to serve plenty of flatbread on the side.

It’s not far to his home, and the stew—mostly beans and corn, with a long-simmering and very tough haunch of dog from an earlier sacrifice thrown in to cook until tender—is just about done when he takes it off the fire. Teomitl clearly wants to help, but after a moment’s searching forces him to realize he has no idea where Acatl keeps anything, he takes himself out to the courtyard with a terribly put-upon sigh. It’s adorable. Acatl wants to kiss his cheek.

So when he sets down their bowls, he does. Teomitl promptly blushes, which is so endearing that Acatl has to kiss him again. On the mouth this time, which turns long and lingering before Teomitl slowly pulls away. “Mmhm. Not that I’m complaining, but what prompted this?”

He really only needs one hand to eat, so he’s free to settle the other at Teomitl’s waist and revel in the way the man nestles against his side. (It’s no longer surprising that Teomitl is so tactile, but it will always—always—be delightful.) “I missed you.”

Because he had. Every time Tizoc had opened his mouth, he’d thought you are unworthy of your crown. Every time Quenami had worn that supercilious smirk of his, he’d thought Teomitl would never let you get away with that. He’d felt himself alone, and he’d wanted his lover by his side. Now that he is, there’s something going soft and warm in Acatl’s chest. They’d definitely be kissing again if it wasn’t for the stew, which he knows won’t be nearly as good cold.

Teomitl presses a kiss to his cheek, which makes him blush in turn, but then he’s applying himself to his dinner. Acatl waits as he takes the first spoonful.

To give him credit, his beloved doesn’t flinch. But he does turn red, and when Acatl hands him a piece of plain flatbread he shoves it into his mouth as though his life depends on it. When he can talk again, his voice is a little rough. “That’s—not bad.” And then, ruefully, “I should have expected that.”

“Mm.” He thinks briefly of seeing whether there’s anything else he could serve, but he knows Teomitl will turn it down. Even now, his lover thinks his own limits are mere suggestions.

It’s a quiet meal. Teomitl settles more firmly against him as they eat, one hand resting lightly on his thigh, and the promise of it makes him shiver. I won’t be suggesting he go home tonight, he thinks, and knows it for the truth. The silence between them feels good—feels comfortable—but though he doesn’t want to spoil it, there’s something he knows he has to say.

The sun is setting, bathing them in twilight. Their bowls are scraped clean, even Teomitl’s. (With the aid, Acatl can’t help but notice, of several cups of water and all of the flatbread.) Teomitl himself is resting his head on his shoulder, looking utterly content with his lot in life. Warm, callused fingers are tracing slow circles on his thigh. Even the air feels peaceful, with just enough of a breeze to keep them cool but not enough to raise the dust. Acatl takes a deep breath and realizes he’s not afraid. Maybe he should be—maybe this is too much, he’s moving too quickly—but he isn’t. Not with his man by his side. Haven’t they come this far?

“I love you,” he whispers, and it comes out so quietly that at first he doesn’t think Teomitl’s heard him. But then it must sink in, because Teomitl’s muscles tense, his eyes widen, and Acatl has a miniature eternity to think Oh, fuck. He’s wrong. This is too fast. Teomitl isn’t that serious about him. Hastily, he opens his mouth, scrambling to take it back.

Then Teomitl smiles, soft as the dawn, and breathes, “I love you, too.”

Oh. Oh, thank the Duality.

Teomitl turns towards him and they’re kissing again, and this time it’s much less sweet. There is some restraint—while Teomitl’s not precisely shy, he’s well aware of Acatl’s vows and has never pressed them—but it’s the easiest and most natural thing in the world to be tumbled backwards on the mat, to have strong hands buried in his hair, to feel the heat and the faintest suggestion of teeth in each press of Teomitl’s mouth down his throat. And yet, for all that, there’s still a gentleness to it, because he’s loved. And better than that, he’s respected. If he asked Teomitl to stop, he knows he would.

He doesn’t think he’s going to ask Teomitl to stop. He arches into another kiss, letting his head fall back, and breathes, “We should...nnh...” Words fail him, because there’s a featherlight press of lips to his collarbone and it’s a lovely little spark of pleasure.

“Mm?”

He shivers in anticipation at the warmth in his lover’s eyes. No, there’s no hesitation in his mind anymore. “Let’s go inside.” He swallows. “If you want to continue this.”

Teomitl jerks back a little to look at him. For an instant he looks surprised, but then the smile on his face turns teasing. “Oh, I do. But it’s getting late, and you should sleep.”

He’s suddenly very, very aware of his lover’s weight on him—of the way they’re touching, pressed together from very nearly the waist downwards, and how the building heat in his blood is moving with purpose. He shifts, rolling his hips a fraction, and feels Teomitl twitch in response. “I’m not that tired.”

Teomitl grins, all wicked hope. “Want me to help you with that?”

He sucks in a breath. I took vows is his first thought. But it’s followed fast by a second, stronger one—I don’t care. So instead of answering in words, he pulls Teomitl into a hungry, searing kiss.

He’s honestly not entirely clear on how they manage to get inside. While he’d be glad to kiss Teomitl forever, his lover is the sort of impatient man who comes up with plans; they’re barely on his sleeping mat before Teomitl’s scattering their cloaks and working at the knots to their loincloths, letting his hands roam shamelessly over every inch of bare skin. Acatl’s not idle; though he might kill something for a light so he could at least see the unveiled glory that is his naked lover, he’s free to map out the lay of the land with his palms.

And gods, but Teomitl melts into each touch. If he were the jaguar Acatl sometimes thinks of him as, he might even be purring. Experimentally he draws his nails down Teomitl’s back, and is rewarded when he moans into their kiss. “Mmm...”

Then there are warm, callused fingers trailing down his chest and he can’t quite muster up the ability to feel smug anymore when they find one nipple and start toying with it. “Oh, gods,” he gasps—he hadn’t thought he’d be sensitive there, but Teomitl is very effectively proving him wrong. He’s been half-hard since the moment his loincloth hit the floor, and Teomitl’s hands are getting him the rest of the way there. It’s even better when Teomitl moves to straddle him, half so they can grind against each other and half so his free hand can skate down the plane of his stomach.

Their eyes meet, and Acatl feels himself flush at the look in Teomitl’s eyes, the one that says without words that there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. When he speaks, his voice is soft. “You feel perfect.”

“Flatterer...mmm...” That one hand is sliding lower, shameless, and he wriggles a little to press their cocks together. He wishes again for light, but smoothing his hands over the solid muscles of his lover’s back and down over his frankly glorious ass will have to do. Teomitl must enjoy it, because his whole body trembles—and then Acatl’s being kissed, long and slow, and he arches with an utterly wanton groan.

“You are incredible,” Teomitl breathes when they pull apart. “Tell me how you want me to please you.” Acatl has to blush a little at that—it’s hardly as though Teomitl ought to need instruction, when he’s so hard against him and surely that presents a few obvious ideas—but well, he is asking. He’s owed an answer.

Still, saying it out loud makes him squirm. His skin feels like it’s on fire as he mutters, “...Touch me.” He rolls his hips, and his lover’s eyes spark fire. He doesn’t need to say anything else; Teomitl takes him in hand, and the friction that had been merely good builds into something he can fall into, something that sends pleasure coiling through his veins.

“Like this?” Teomitl’s setting a steady pace, fingers rippling; he needs his other hand to brace himself on the mat, bringing him in range to punctuate his words with a hungry mouth on Acatl’s collarbone. It scatters Acatl’s thoughts to the four winds; helpless, he scratches down Teomitl’s back again, and this time the vibrations of his lover’s moan sinks into his skin.

More, he thinks, and yes. He barely recognizes his own voice when it leaves his mouth. “Nngh, yes—no, wait, wait, I want to—” It’s not a want but a physical need, bone-deep, that has him working his hand between them to wrap around both their cocks at once. Teomitl’s roughly the same size but a little thicker, all rock-hard heat under his palm, and when he squeezes it pulls the most amazingly wrecked noise out of him.

“Oh,” Teomitl gasps. In the darkness, his eyes are wide with stunned hunger; his hips shudder, rocking in unconscious little circles like he’s not sure whether he should be letting Acatl set the pace or not.

“Like this,” he pants. All that stroking had been pleasurable, yes, but he needs to feel it properly when Teomitl falls apart against him, under his hand, sliding past his own cock with each thrust. He wonders, briefly, how it would feel with Teomitl inside him—but then Teomitl’s hand leaves his shaft to slide lower, and the first purposeful caress to his balls makes him whine.

Teomitl’s smug, “Hah,” comes out as more of a gasp than anything else. Even the attempt at a self-satisfied smirk is erased in the next instant because Acatl leans in to nip at his throat and grinds his hips up, a firm stroke making their cocks pulse in his grip, and his head falls back with a shaky cry. “Gods, keep doing that—”

Acatl hums against his lover’s skin. “Is this how you like it?” he breathes. There aren’t words for the feelings coursing through him, lust and the mounting lightning of his own pleasure mingling with a fierce joy that he’s the one doing this for Teomitl, that it’s his mouth and hands that are pulling such sweet sounds from his lover. A little more, he thinks. A little more. I need to see your face.

He gets his wish a moment later; no doubt Teomitl has a warrior’s stamina, but it can’t last against the way Acatl’s handling him. He gets increasingly vocal as he nears his peak, wordless cries ringing in the night air as Acatl bites at his shoulder. When he mouths a red mark into the thin skin at his collarbone, Teomitl nearly sobs. “Yes—yes, gods, Acatl—” Then he’s coming, hard and fast and all at once, spilling himself over their hands and bodies, and his voice cracks into a desperate keen.

It’s perfect. He’s still unfulfilled, but he almost doesn’t care. Almost. After a moment where Teomitl’s catching his breath and he thinks he might have to seek his own pleasure, his lover is grinning hot and hungrily down at him and oh gods, now that he’s not distracted by what Acatl’s doing with him he proves merciless. He settles back on his haunches, freeing both hands to squeeze and stroke and pump Acatl’s throbbing flesh, and all Acatl can do is take it. “Nnnh, Teomitl, please...”

“That’s it,” Teomitl breathes, and if it wasn’t so awestruck it would be a royal order. It feels like a royal order, like the words of the gods themselves when he growls, “Come for me, Acatl-tzin.”

He does. He can’t do anything else. It’s shattering knife-edge pleasure that pulls all his thoughts out of his head; for a small eternity, he can’t even feel his own limbs, lost in the white-hot spasms of his own release. Awareness filters back in slowly; there’s Teomitl slowly petting his thighs, there’s his hands settling at his lover’s hips. And there, shining in the darkness, is Teomitl’s tender gaze.

“...Duality,” he manages breathlessly. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this, but thank You. Thank You for this gift.

“We made a mess,” Teomitl murmurs. With a downright wicked smirk, he drags his fingers through it and slowly licks them clean.

Spent as he is, it still makes Acatl’s cock twitch. He has to close his eyes lest he do something that...well, something that seems like a very good idea, to be honest, but his body is letting him know he’d regret it later. He’s not that young anymore. “Teomitl.”

“You taste good.” It’s almost—almost—innocent, but then Teomitl does it again and that’s not innocent at all.

He draws in a shuddering breath. “I need to recover, damn you. Give me a moment before you do things like that!”

“I just wanted to clean us up, but you’re right.” Teomitl kisses him again, slowly, and he can taste himself on his lips. “I won’t tease, love.”

Love. He smiles at that, feeling his face warm. “You’d better not, after being so concerned about my sleep schedule.” It comes out as more of a mumble than anything else; he’s forgotten how draining orgasms can be, especially on a full stomach after a long day. Sleep really is sounding very tempting.

“Mmm.” It’s a warm, utterly contented hum. Even when Teomitl pulls away to clean them both up properly with a cotton towel, he doesn’t go far; indeed, the cleanup itself is slow and tender and interspersed with long, gentle kisses.

Acatl responds as best he can, but he really is very tired. When Teomitl slides his arms around him, it’s all he can do to nuzzle into his chest. “Mmhm.” He feels boneless. Weightless. Teomitl is stroking his hair, and he never wants it to stop. “Teomitl...”

Teomitl’s arms loosen. “I...” he begins.

He knows what Teomitl’s going to say—I should go, I shouldn’t be here in the morning. He knows it would be a good and prudent idea. He also knows he’s not going to let that happen. Not after the night they’ve shared; not after the love they’ve shared. “Stay,” he says.

Teomitl stays.

#acatl #teomitl #teocatl #quenami #tizoc #not work safe #obsidian and blood #paladin writes stuff

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dragonladdie · 4 years ago

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Xeno-Hiraeth

Warning: The following document delves into topics such as (systemic)racism, classism, colonization, (implied)genocide, and slavery. This is not to promote, justify, humanize, or normalize these things in any way, shape or form, and, quite frankly, the opposite of the story's initial message.

The author does NOT approve of such things. If you think any of the above is justifiable in ANY manner, you can leave right now, thanks.

Lore

Xeno-Hiraeth was the first ever planet made by the Seraphs, a race of divine entities with the power to create entire galaxies with the simple flick of their wrist.

There are four sapient species on this ancient planet: The proud dragons, the reclusive lungs, the gentle sphinxes, and finally, the mageia, the first Beings, and made in the Seraph's image.

Not only is Xeno-Hiraeth the first world, it is by far the largest. It is infinitely larger than our Earth, and far more magical. It's teeming with wild magic and a myriad of magical and strange creatures. At its center is Cor Meum, seven continents surrounding the Heartland. The Heartland holds the Capitol, where the Queen resides.

As previously said, there are four sapient species of Xeno-Hiraeth. You would believe the mageia would rule the world, as they were the first Beings, and are made in the Seraph's image. You would be correct, but, millions of years ago, when all but one Seraph suddenly vanished from the cosmos, the mageia fell into chaos.

The mageia waged war on each other, dragging the other three races with them. This started the Cold Age. After thousands of years of distrust, chaos, and all-out war, the remaining Seraph could no longer speak to their people.

They ended up turning the world over to the dragons and lungs, giving them a secret gift that allowed them to reunite the world again. They were supposed to rule the land together in order to retain at least some form of unity. But, another thousand years later, after high tensions, the dragons and lungs turned on each other. The lungs ended up breaking from the dragons and went into hiding, making dragons the singular dominant species of Xeno-Hiraeth.

Sphinxes are a somewhat independent species, and try not to get involved with the other three species' affairs. They normally exist in one of twelve clans, but few unlucky sphinxes live their lives as personal servants and slaves to dragon nobility, and are treated as wealth statuses rather than individuals.

Geography of Notable Landmasses

Heartland

The Heartland is the central continent of Cor Meum. A vast valley surrounded by mountains, and at its center is the Capitol, the largest metropolis in the world. The Capitol is mostly inhabited by dragons, and is also where a good 60% of dragons in Xeno-Hiraeth live. The Heartstone Palace is both the tallest and largest built structure in Cor Meum as well, and it's tallest tower can be seen from miles in any direction. The Heartstone Palace is the home of the Queen and their family.

Makatu Valley

The continent just North of Heartland is a combination of floating isles and mountains. It's the home of the longmas' kingdom, Sahar. Mistiko, the capital city for Sahar is located between one of the two largest mountains on Cor Meum, known as the Twin Peaks. Instead of sitting at the foot of the two mountains, the city actually stands on the top of a huge floating aisle, just above their peaks. It's only accessible by airships and flying.

Rama Forests

The continent of Rama sits upon a rich iron mine that stretches down and out for miles. Even though they have a seemingly infinite amount of it, every scrap of metal is treated graciously, and no amount is wasted. On the surface are lush forests on the foot of a small mountain range. The capital city, Stonehill, sits on the base of said mountain range.

Taiao

The continent of Taiao is a combination of forest and open plain, perfect for the diverse population of Alam. Taiao has bountiful lands to raise crops, and thus there are countless farming villages across the continent. The "capital" of Alam is called the Thicket, which is a town surrounding a huge tree. Inside the tree is the High Sage and their council, made up of all sorts of backgrounds.

Vjetar Plateau

The Vjetar plateau is located at the furthest Northeast point in Cor Meum. The only way up is by flying, airships, or making your way up Zephyr's Road, a dangerous foot trail filled with predators and rogues. Atop the plateau is a flat, lush steppe occasionally dotted with rich forests. There is a small patch of frigid mountains to the north, and the west drops off into the sea. The soil is adequate for the nation's agricultural needs, and produce farms are the majority of what you will find when exploring the land. The capital city of Gisa stands in the middle of a windy meadow.

The Sear

The Sear is a scorching desert to the West of Cor Meum. The farther center you go, the hotter the sun beats, and the taller the sand dunes stand. But, smack in the middle of the desert, springs the Blessing Oasis. It's the largest oasis in the Sear, and most of the qilin population lives here.

The Wai Peninsula

The Wai peninsula is home to Ngaru, the native kingdom of the kelpies. To the Northern entrance to the peninsula are swamps, marshes, bogs, and mangroves. Then, there's the Iridescent Jungle. Though it's a gorgeous sight to behold, it's filled with dangerous animals and man-eating plants. Then, once you finally make it out of the jungle, you are rewarded with a calm, tropical paradise. The capital city is located on the shore, along with the Summer Palace. But, during the winter and fall months, the royal family retreats to the Underwater Palace. A secret entrance on the surface is provided for non-kelpie visitors.

Kahore Mountains

Nihil, the native kingdom of the nix, is based underground and in the mountains of Kahore. The entirety of the continent is just mountains that stretch almost completely off the Eastern coast of Cor Meum. The capital city of Covert lays below the surface of Titan's Maw Summit, the largest mountain in the world.

Ledas

A combination of icy plain and taiga to the north of Cor Meum. It is mostly unexplored by the other Beings, and is occupied by the Fa and Noh sphinx clans.

The Barrier Mountains

Several oceanic mountain ranges that erupt from the water, and surround Cor Meum. There is presumably nothing past these mountains, only open ocean. However, all voyages that set out past these mountains never return. Rumor has it that beyond these mountains lies the secret home of the lungs.

Additional landmasses

Within the Barrier Mountains are several other small islands, whether they humbly sit on the water or float above it. None of them are big enough to be marked fully as continents, however, and most of them are colonized by dragon villages.

General Society

The Queen is a hereditary, gender-neutral title worn by the ruling dragon. It's passed on from parent to oldest child, but it's not unheard of for the crown to go to one of the Queen's spouses, siblings, or even a trusted Council member if either they believe their children aren't cut out for the job or die before they have any.

The King is the first spouse of the Queen(the King is also a gender-neutral title). The King acts as an advisor to the Queen as well as a companion, and is incredibly influential. Consorts hold no political power, but may hold certain influence as well, depending on their background/actions outside of the palace walls.

The current Queen is Nefriah, and her heir is her first son, Valo. She has one spouse, King Solan. Their other children are Naika, Naseem, Kasigo, and Vanja.

That being said, there are no gender roles in Xeno-Hiraeth! Gender identity and expression is something that is a personal preference, and is figured out during childhood(all children are referred to with they/them pronouns at first, unless they choose differently later on). Androgyny is the dominant gender expression, and no individual would be made fun of, judged, or barred from certain tasks/jobs for their gender identity and/or expression, or lack thereof.

While the Queen rules over both dragons and mageia(and to some extent, the sphinxes), it's the Omnis-Sovereign who carries out the laws to the mageia. The Omnis-Sovereign is typically a longma mageia who not only rules their own kingdom, but the other kingdoms as well. While all kingdoms have their individual leader or leaders, they all answer to the Omnis-Sovereign, and the Omnis-Sovereign answers to the Queen. The current Omnis-Sovereign is Jerome.

The Prophet is the religious leader of Cor Meum, and secondary advisor to the Queen. Their job(supposedly) is to make sure the will of the Seraph is followed. They also are responsible for keeping the Queen in check. They are hand-picked by the Queen themself, and serve until death. The current Prophet is Rek'yen.

The Queen's council consists of the King, Prophet, General, Treasurer, High Mage, Archive Keeper, Charter, and High Judge. King Solan currently doubles as the High Mage.

There is an unspoken racial hierarchy amongst the mageia, in order of preference of the dragons; the longmas, the re'em, the dryads, the perytons, the qilins, the kelpies, and then the nixes.

Disabilities are not usually an issue in Xeno-Hiraeth. Non-verbal and/or deaf beings are taught some form of sign language, or given a slate to write your thoughts down. Blind individuals are taught to use their other senses to make their way around, and/or given a guide(whether they be a Being or familiar), or a cane to feel around with as you step. For those with lost limbs, there's a number of different prosthetics to choose from, and there are special prosthetics for different jobs and activities(including wings!).

In regards to technology, think steampunk-esque. Tech such as robotic prosthetics, arcane-powered machines, airships, explosives, and simple firearms such as pistols, bayonets, and shotguns are craftable items.

Tharcanas are enchanted items, all with differing abilities. Some examples would be a piece of jewelry that immediately returns to the owner of it's ever stolen, a small orb that gives off light when needed, a flute that puts listeners to sleep, bracers that give the wearer super strength, etc.

Being Biology & Info

Dragons and Lungs

Dragons and Lungs have a rather… chaotic biology, to say the least. While they can't be classified into several distinct races, almost every dragon or lung family has something unique about their pedigree. For example, some families may be able to grow plant life on themselves, or breathe fire, or have insect-like wings, etc.

Curiously enough, some dragons and lungs have similar features, such as some dragons having manes down their topline, and lungs having small, vestigial wings.

No matter what their features are, dragons are the largest species, standing at around 7-8 ½ feet at the shoulder. They are typically scaled, with at least one pair of wings, and at least one horn.

Lungs, on the other hand, are only slightly taller than the average mageia, but have long, snake-like bodies. They have fur and/or scales, with a mane down their topline/around their head like a lion. They usually have at least one horn.

Mageia

Mageia are huge creatures(the average mageia is about 6 ½ feet at the shoulder) with a canine-like head filled with sharp teeth, front paws(or claws, or talons) back hooves(can be one toed or cloven) a horse-like mane, and a lionel tail.

The mageia have seven races, each with their own unique features:

Longma biology

Pure longmas are mageia who share a common ancestor who was half dragon. All Longmas have at least one horn and draconic wings.

Pure longmas always have:

draconic wings

at least one horn

Longmas can have:

scales somewhere other than the topline, wings, and tail

scales along their topline

serpentine tails

draconic fins

Additional info

Famously pompous and devoted to individualism, Longmas are proud, innovative, and fiercely passionate.

Traditionally classist, recent years have seen the ladder to success grow more accessible, but the line between nobility and commoners remains distinct and nearly impossible to cross.

Longmas consider themselves the ideal and dismiss other mageia as uncultured, barbaric entities.

The gap between Sahar's civilian classes is significant, with the nobility sitting comfortably at the top of the ladder. The Nobility are revered, or at the very least begrudgingly respected, by the lower classes. Their political significance is rivaled only by their implied wealth, which may or may not be as grand as an individual noble claims. Nobles are the only longmas who have surnames, portrayed by their House. While there is some wiggle room for wealthy commoners to rub shoulders with the elite, they are unlikely to be accepted as an equal.

Re'em biology

Re'em are readily identified by their horns, which range from the traditional single spiral to jagged monstrosities, sometimes made of gemstone and metal.

Pure re'em always have:

horn(s), typically on the head.

Pure re'em can have:

Horns made of minerals such as precious gemstones, metals, glass or rock

Gemstone/metal attributes

Additional info

The re'em of Lux are proud people, known for their prowess in battle. Thus, friendly sparring is a common pastime for young re'em, though older re'em enjoy the activity as well.

When a re'em dies, a replica of their horn is carved and shaped from the same gemstone/metal that their real horn was made from. Simply painting a clay sculpture is an alternative to those with simple keratin horns.

Although the re'em have a reputation in other kingdoms as being uneducated, simplistic brutes, intellectual prowess is lauded, and complex, strategy-based games are enjoyed in households.

A single back hoof stomp is a more "aggressive" greeting, and thus is conducted by soldiers and rowdy adolescents, the harder/louder the more impressive.

Dryad biology

A pureblooded dryad is identified by the plant or animal life that thrives from their body. Plant life usually goes through seasonal changes or stagnates at full bloom, but there are always anomalies. A depressed or sick dryad usually suffers from wilted, or even withered growth.

Pure Dryads always have:

plantlife (or plant-esque, such as coral, bark, rocks/minerals/gemstones, etc.) growing from their body

Dryads can have:

extra hair (such as an extended mane down their top line).

antlers.

gemstones.

bark or rock like texture on their body.

Additional info

When hunting and farming, no part of the plant or animal goes to waste. Anything one does not eat is made into jewelry, tools, or simply fertilizer for the next batch of crops.

Outsiders are welcomed, but watched carefully. The dryads of Alam are hospitable and friendly to all, but won't hesitate to give you the boot if you choose violence.

The native mageia of Taiao live in peace with the environment, never taking more than what they need. Wastefulness, in any capacity, is not tolerated. What you take from the land is a blessing, and should be treated as such.

The High Sage is the religious leader of Alam. They interpret signs seemingly sent by the Seraph themself, predict the success of the next year/harvest, and make sure traditions are followed, and outdated ones are updated. The Council are the political leaders, and do most of the paperwork, overseeing official events, recounting population, distributing resources, etc.

Peryton biology

All pureblooded perytons will have at least one set of wings. Feathered wings are the most common, but there are plenty of individuals who sport wings reminiscent of bats, and rarer still are the individuals who grow insect-like wings.

Pure perytons always have:

at least one set of wings(wings can be feathered, bat-like, or insect based)

Perytons can have:

feathering on the body.

feathers in place of a mane or tail.

more than one set of wings.

Additional info:

The perytons are proud, loyal, and cunning, and reside in a nation shrouded in mystery. While often misunderstood, they have a rich history and culture that defines them.

There is so much freestanding land in Vjetar that it is commonplace just to petition for a small plot to build on, and more often than not, it will be granted.

Most families in Sirocco are rather large, as couples generally have anywhere from three to seven children.

The Divine is the kingdom's spiritual leader, acting as the conduit through which the last Seraph makes their will known, while the clerics act as the kingdom's clergy and healers. While the Divine rarely leaves the Holy Temple of the Seraph, and never leaves the great city of Gisa, Clerics live all throughout the nation and assist where the Divine can not.

Qilin biology

The Qilin is immediately recognizable by the presence of body scales and antlers. This race is almost entirely resilient to heat.

Pure qilins always have:

at least one antler, though typically two.

scaling somewhere on their body.

Qilins can have:

antlers that resemble various different deeror antelope.

Additional info

Qilins of Hariq are hardy survivors, a family of mostly nomadic individuals joined together by their mutual love and respect for every member of the Sear.

Humble, accepting, and naive, these gentle mageia are trusting of others to a sometimes dangerous fault. Though they make up the smallest population, they are not to be trifled with: every member has received some form of combat training, and their desert home is a frightful place to wage war.

The traditional qilin would die for their virtues and the safety of another.

Deeply spiritual and fixated on being one with and coexisting with the world, the qilin ways are mystical and rooted in their religion.

Kelpie biology

Kelpies will always possess two forms that they are able to shift between: a land form for traversing terrain, and a water form that allows them to swim and breathe underwater. The aquatic half of a kelpie can be based on fish, cetaceans, octopi, seals, or any other marine creature.

Pure kelpies always have:

a land form.

a water form.

Kelpies can have (in both forms):

fins and scales.

a fishtail.

stingers, tentacles, barbels - anything that correlates to their aquatic animal(s) really.

bioluminescence.

Additional info

Kelpies are famously the most accepting of outsiders, and thus hybrids are not a rare sight in Ngaru.

They are skilled soldiers, fishers, and sailors, but extremely superstitious. Angering the last Seraph is said enough to damn you and your family for generations.

While they are accepting of outside races, they stay as distant as they possibly can from the other nations, and try not to get mixed up in their politics.

As a collective community, Ngaru generally works together to keep themselves in check to prevent interference from the dragons.

Nix biology

Though they lack the fantastical features of their counterparts, there is beauty in simplicity. Rare genetic mutations can give this race additional eyes or even visible auras.

Additional info

Since nixes lack any interesting features, they're seen as boring, tasteless individuals, which is far from the truth.

They're secretive and selective on who they let into the Underground, and fewer ever get to see the capitol city.

The nation is built on a sense of community, and secrets rarely stay hidden for long.

A lot of nixes travel the continents of Cor Meum in hopes of finding wealth elsewhere, and it isn't uncommon to find a travelling Nix merchant setting up shop in the streets in a completely different continent than their own.

Hybrids

Opinions on hybrids vary from kingdom to kingdom. In Sahar, Lux, Sirocco, and Nihil, hybrids are frowned upon or at the very least judged, but in Alam, Hariq, and Ngaru, it's not as much of a big deal. Still, most hybrids are vagabonds, finding their place elsewhere, outside the binary kingdoms.

There is a rumor floating around that off the shore of the Wai Peninsula is a floating isle that is a safe haven for hybrids and wayward beings of the like, conducted by a longma with strange abilities and a gun-slinging nix. They're referred to as the Devil's Duo. Urban legend says that they're a pair of adopted siblings who took control of a ship that once hauled kidnapped sphinxes to slavery. Now, they recruit runaways and misfits, looting and raiding unsuspecting ships, whether they be in the water or the air. This group of misfits is called the Vindicators. The Duo's true names are unknown to all but this group.

Sphinxes

The Sphinxes are felines about the size of an Earth horse, with wings and talons like birds. They naturally belong to one of twelve clans, and usually communicate in a series of both feline and bird-like sounds(such as, but not limited to: chirps, hisses, meowing, cawing, roars, etc). This language is referred to as Dimali colloquially amongst the Sphinxes.

The Sa Clan

The vast desert sand dunes are occupied by the Sa, the smallest of all the clans. The Sa sphinxes closely resemble sand cats, but with a more slim face. They have longer fur that sprouts between their toes to protect their feet from the hot surface sand. Sa culture surrounds on how precious water is, treating water wells as sacred locations. The Sa worship snake spirits, and have elaborate hunting rituals for the rare giant serpents of the Sear.

The Ri Clan

The Ri are a very reclusive clan, preferring to hide deep in their forests surrounded by ancient trees and spirits. They are typically much smaller than the average sphinx, and display dark colors with rich reds on their fur. They have small, "kitten-like" faces with mildly fluffy tails. The Ri are adept with magic, often hoarding their secrets from outsiders. It is said that they have a close connection with the lungs, which is where they derive their magical knowledge.

The Tas Clan

The Tas live in the tropical rainforests of the Wai peninsula. They're the most colorful and vibrant of the sphinxes, with an endless range of fur colors and patterns. Their wings are similar to cockatoos. These sphinxes have a special fondness for feather and fur dyes, and can produce every conceivable color(including UV reactive and glowing dyes).

The Fa Clan

They occupy Ledas, the snow covered isle to the north of Cor Meum. This clan is nomadic, wandering their large territory to hunt and sustain themselves. They're the only sphinxes that hunt whales, more specifically the ivory B'Eshuul whales. These sphinxes have long, white fur and are similar to Norwegian Forest cats. They are so similar physiologically to their slightly southern neighbors, the Noh, that they might be considered a subgroup of them.

The Noh Clan

To the southern part of the Ledas are the vast pine forests, the home of the Noh Clan. Like the Fa, they have long fur and resemble Norwegian Forest cats, only their fur is more darkly colored. Both are also large, tough, and cold-resistant. With dark colors, keen instincts, and incredible strength, they make excellent hunters and warriors.

The Wen Clan

The sphinxes of the Wen occupy an island southwest of Cor Meum dominated by ancient red trees and volcanic activity. While they tend to be more disconnected from the other clans, it's not entirely by choice. There are many rumors about the Wen that make even dragons fear them. From their close connection to volcanism, to the idea they are spirit possessed, or possibly immortal. Tall and graceful, the sphinxes of this clan bear pale fur and sleek, noble eyes. They also have unique feather arrangements and tufted ears, which adds to their exotic profile. They have a knack for creating delicate and beautifully crafted jewelry and adornments.

The Fen Clan

The Fen sphinxes occupy the coastal cliffs of the Vjetar plateau and the islands surrounding it. Characterized by their bright orange colorization, they are shipbuilders and explorers. Having mastered the art of navigation, they bring goods and news from distant islands that are untouched by any of the four Beings. Sphinxes of Fen have more narrow, elongated wings similar to seabirds. This clan has close ties to the Noc, who have provided star charts to them for generations.

The Noc Clan

The Noc are loosely based in the mountains around the continent, mostly nomadic and nocturnal. The sphinxes of this clan are very owl-like, with large eyes and wings built for stealth. They are known to be great astronomers. They are often traders of secrets and information.

The Pel Clan

The clan of Pel occupy a large swath of land between the Sear and Taiao. Tricksters at heart, they are fond of poisons, venoms, and weaving. Mythology for the Pel surrounds storms and lightning, and the most impressive thunderstorms can be found in their territory. Though they're tricksters at heart, their elixirs are mainly used for medicine crafting. They are excellent runners for their species as well, mastering the art of long distance travel.

The Ku Clan

The Ku Clan make their homes in the northernmost point in the Sear, and their territory is a mix between red canyons and pine forests. They tend towards a rusty red color in the canyons, but to the north their coat coloring is grey and ticked. The typical Ku home is an elaborate, carved out chamber in the canyon walls, often with multiple chambers. After many generations of the practice, masonry and stonework are common skills. The Ku territory is rich with salt deposits, which is mined and sold to generate some of the greatest wealth amongst all the sphinx clans of the continents.

The Mal Clan

The sphinxes of Mal inhabit the dense mangrove and marshes between Wai and Taiao. They're the largest clan next to the Fa and Noh, with short fur in different shades of brown, and large, webbed wings. These sphinxes have the unusual ability to breathe underwater, and have developed fins on their topline, webbed talons, and a fish-like tail. Even though they're big clunky, these fins make them surprisingly aerodynamic, making them some of the best fliers amongst the sphinxes. They worship fish and water serpent spirits, and have a deep connection to the winged snakes of the swamps called amphipteres.

The Lin Clan

A mysterious, secretive clan who dwells in perpetual darkness beneath the surface of Cor Meum. They are very much bat-like, with large, beady eyes, huge ears, and bat-like wings that have finger-like appendages at the top to help them grip the cave walls. Their patron spirit is the Iron Root Spirit, also called the Mirror Tree. On the surface, it looks like a normal tree, but its roots take form to grow another tree seemingly growing from the cavern ceiling. Stories say that it talks to all of those able to listen, and will sometimes bestow the iron legs of their ancestor, Diersha. Rumored to be extinct, the Lin Clan spends their days mining and crafting prosthetics, unbothered by the world above… and blissfully ignorant of its current state.

Enslaved Sphinxes

Sphinxes that are owned by dragon nobility. Most are born into slavery, while others are clan sphinxes kidnapped by slave traders. Those who are born into slavery do not typically have any specific features to any one clan, but rather a cluster of hybrids of sick, selective "breeding" over generations. Many have grown accustomed to this life, and keep their heads low in order to survive. The existence of these slaves are exactly the reason why most sphinx clans keep far away from the other Beings.

#she's finally done @~@#Joka #Joka story #worldbuilding #fantasy world #xeno-hiraeth #mageia #dragons #lungs #sphinxes #racism tw #classism tw #colonization tw #genocide tw #slavery tw

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corruptionchronicle · 1 year ago

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Fallin's Scandalous Affair

Lt. Gov’s bodyguard quits amid allegations of affair

December 8, 1998 AP

Trooper Greg Allen

OKLAHOMA CITY - An Oklahoma Highway Patrol bodyguard for Lt. Gov. Mary Fallin has resigned after admitting ”unprofessional conduct” amid allegations by her estranged husband that she had an affair with a bodyguard.

Mrs. Fallin, a Republican who was elected to a second term in 1996, filed for divorce a few weeks after the election. At a hearing, Fallin’s attorney raised an allegation about the lieutenant governor having an affair with an unidentified bodyguard.

In a statement Monday, Public Safety Commissioner Bob Ricks said rumors surfaced in early September about ”alleged unprofessional conduct between a member of the executive security detail and the lieutenant governor.”

The statement said the trooper first denied the allegations, but was again questioned late last month and ”admitted to unprofessional conduct and was permitted to resign. That resignation was accepted last week. His admission did not indicate that sexual activity was involved.”

The Lost Ogle posted this photo of Mary Fallin’s

first marriage being planned at

Hugh Hefner’s Playboy mansion The trooper was not identified and Ricks was reported unavailable for further discussion of the matter.

Lana Tyree, Mrs. Fallin’s attorney, later issued a statement saying the lieutenant governor would have no comment.

”Out of legitimate concern for the privacy and welfare of her minor children through the Christmas holidays, Lieutenant Governor Mary Fallin, having denied the allegations, will not respond to or debate these issues in the media and will make no further public comment,” the statement said. Mrs. Fallin, 43, and her husband have two children, ages 11 and 8.

In court, Mrs. Fallin had said the allegations of an affair with a bodyguard were a rumor started by her husband. At last week’s hearing, District Judge Jerry Bass prevented Fallin’s attorney from pursuing questions about an alleged affair.

In response to a question from his wife’s attorney, Mr. Fallin said he had hired a private investigator to follow her.

Another hearing in the divorce case is set for next Monday.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sex scandal roils Oklahoma politics:

Official accused of having affair with trooper

Gov. Keating Accused of Hypocrisy

December 12, 1998 Kansas City Star (MO) TULSA, Okla. – The debate over precisely what constitutes sexual relations has spread from the nation’s capital to this heartland state, where the lieutenant governor is accused of an improper relationship with a state trooper. The situation has Republican Gov. Frank A. Keating battling partisan charges of hypocrisy for refusing to publicly criticize his second-in-command, Mary Fallin, while condemning President Clinton’s conduct with Monica Lewinsky as “outrageous” and calling for Clinton’s resignation. “We have to handle this fairly and professionally and in a nonpartisan fashion, fully independent of what is happening nationally,” Keating said in an interview. “We can’t let the winds of the Washington scandal blow us to the right or left. ” The governor added that there was no evidence that sexual intercourse had taken place between Fallin and Greg Allen, a member of her security detail. Keating has nonetheless ordered the state Public Safety Commissioner to leave “no stone unturned” in an official review. Fallin and Allen – who resigned after acknowledging that he engaged in “unprofessional conduct” – have denied a sexual relationship. However, Allen admitted that on more than one occasion he had held Fallin’s hand and had comforted her as she wept on his shoulder over her troubled marriage. He also said that they had kissed – “but merely as you would kiss a friend,” explained his attorney Gary James. For that, James said, Allen initially thought it was best to resign. Allen, who is married, is now asking for his job back. The firestorm erupted Dec. 4 when Fallin, 43, considered an up-and-coming Republican political figure, announced that she was seeking a divorce. At a sensational court hearing that day, she accused her husband of 14 years of abusing her, of using drugs and of hiring a private investigator to follow her. Joseph Fallin, a dentist, denied the abuse and drugs but admitted hiring the investigator. “This is about you having an affair with one of your bodyguards, isn’t it?,” Joseph Fallin’s attorney, Bill Liebel, asked Mary Fallin in open court. “That was a rumor started by my husband,” she responded. The judge quickly called a recess and then barred further reference to the matter. But the cat was out of the bag. A few days later, Public Safety Commissioner Bob Ricks confirmed that Allen had been “permitted to resign,” although the trooper had denied that any “sexual activity” had occurred. “In all honesty, none of us wanted to know any details,” Ricks said in an interview. “Who wants to go into this salacious area? ” Keating, who is chairman of the Republican Governor’s Association and who has presidential aspirations, is among those who would rather not be dealing with this. But state Democrats seized on the scandal to attack Keating, while avoiding any judgment of Fallin and her marital woes. “He is a leading critic of the president, and what he is practicing nationally he is not practicing locally,” said Pat Hall, executive director of the state Democratic Party. A spokesman for Keating responded that the governor’s judgments about Clinton were made after the president admitted an improper relationship with Lewinsky.

#corruption #oklahoma #scandal #politician #crime

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bates--boy · 4 years ago

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He does not have enough ice packs to cover all the injuries he's sustained, so he makes due with the frozen peas that will remain uneaten for a long time. Tying one around his stomach with an elastic bandage, Peter holds the other bag to the back of his head and the sole ice pack to his jaw. He knows he will have to go to the doctor, and... he touches the tip of his tongue to a back tooth. Shit. Probably a dentist, too.

That will come later if he doesn't heal up right and quick, but for now...

Peter goes to his bedroom, sits on the edge of his bed to wait out the spinning, and when the room stills, Peter sets the ice packs down and gets back up to retrieve his hidden treasure: a black, hardcover, three-ring journal. The immediate pages open up to straight-up porn: magazine rip-outs of beautiful silver foxes and vixens and their... creative use of toys and fruits. Peter knows that no one will find it, but he counts on the idea that whoever should would flip through it, grow sick with this weird man's kink, and put it away and pretend they never saw it.

Taking a pen from his bedside table, Peter removes the cap with his teeth (because fuck it, his jaw won't stop hurting either way) spits blood into his wastebasket, and opens the journal to a divided section sitting between the padded layouts of Eden Kiss and his Forbidden Fruits pinups:

United States

He slowly paces the room, searching his index and skipping through the major representations' pages, the pages of the states and capitals, the Heartlands and Northeast, going straight to his first destination

Caitlyn

His scrawl is messy, purposely so only he can read it (paranoid security measures were a hard habit to kick, it would seem)

- Whored herself out for bread, apparently (Panera? lol)

- Still whining and pining for someone

And then it clicks because duh, so he scratches a mark in his last entry

- Still whining and pining for someone Alfred, duh

- Very sensitive about the reputation of her lands (Bible Belt issues?) (Crack open a US history book)

It felt like such a weak start, but what can he do? Either the rumor mill is going bone dry or his snooping skills has been getting rusty lately; he'll have to figure out a way to be in six different places at once at the least. In the meantime...

He moves on to the next tab

Eastern Europe

Ivan

- Closeted as fuck and way behind the times (can his ignorance of modern times be used?)

- Terrible hygiene (Lame. Petty. Find better material)

- Scared of Papa and Daddy (probably wants to fuck them, too)

- ^(ew)

He chuckles as he adds the newest finding to the man's list, just as tickled now by this tragic humor as he was when it came to him during that phone call

- Is in love with Ludwig

- ^ Wait, wasn't there a whole thing where Russia occupied Germany? (How long was he in love? Any overlap between his lovelorn and the occu.?) (If so: Creepy and Major Yikes) (#cancelled) (#abuseofpower)

Then, finally, as the cat weaves between his legs, purring and demanding attention, Peter turns to the final section that needs an update

Western Europe

Ludwig

- Major health insecurities

- Any actual ailments? Disabilities? Allergies? (TBA)

- Is dating one of my brothers

But here is where he has to stop, drumming his pen on the open pages. This one was a toughie, too hard to crack. Even recalling the brief bit Ivan had shared with him regarding the German during his drunken rant yields little.

But little is better than nothing, so...

- "Health plan"??

- Nitpicking rumors as coping mechanism (or maybe just a gym rat)

- Apparently Ivan's best friend (Yikes)

"...Shit," he murmurs, shutting the notebook close and returning it to its hiding place. He finally bends to pick up his fat bastard of a cat and buries his face in the big boy's fur. Jack's purring soothes him, settles the pain in his head.

"We're gonna be okay, Jack," Peter murmurs tiredly. He has assurance.

#droid noodles ( writing )#long post #ish #I had meant to pist yhis tge other night but #the app just kept deleting my progress so I had to keep writing it over lol

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dailyadventureprompts · 5 years ago

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Settlement: The Magocratic city of Lirisos & The World Spear

Background & Environment: Established as a trade town in the heartland of a prosperous kingdom, the settlement that would become Lirisos rose to prominance when it was discovered that it sat over a powerful conflux of magical laylines. Pratictioners and accademics from all over gathered in the area to tap into this wellspring of power, and soon the township became famous for it’s spellcraft and enchanted goods.

As generations of war and disasters slowly wore away at the rest of the the kingdom, these arcanists ensured Lirisos was spared the worse of any crisis, eventually allowing it to supplant the kingdom’s capital as the true center of power. The Mages of Lirisos took well to the reins of power, spreading their town’s magical gifts about for the benefit of the common citizen, while propping up the scattered royal line as a dynasty of figureheads to maintain the veneer of stability.

Becoming the true power behind the state allowed the Mages to divert the realm’s resources into the construction of a great work. Called the World-Spear, this towering monument serves as both a symbol of the Magocracy’s triumph as well as a colossally sturdy focus for their most devistating of spells. Since it’s completion no rival has dared to threaten Lirisos’s interests, which is just how the ruling Mages like it as it allows them to focus on their personal projects.

Mood & Themes: Optimism and prosperity in the shadow of the ivory tower, Daily life aided by magical wonders, If Daiagon alley was an entire town. The 1950s postwar surety of having the word’s biggest weapon in your back pocket.

Who’s Hiring:

The Markets and workshops of Lirisos are always hungry for magically potent goods. Woods for warndcraft, rare beasts for familiars, herbs and minerals for alchemical concoctions. If the party has specialty goods to trade, they’re sure to find a buyer in Lirisos.

While most kingdoms can claim one or two organizations of learning, Lirisos has a panopaly that players can seek to join. Of foremost interest to adventuring types would be the Order Manticoric (A colledge of warmages and duelists always on the lookout for talent), LockboX (a cabal of radical scholars interested in preserving and disseminating useful lore), and most exclusive of all: The Spearkeepers. Highest authority in Lirisos save for the council of archmagi. Though often highminded and heavy handed, the Keepers tend to the upkeep of The World-Spear and the flow of magic that sustains it. Through their bond with the monument the Spearkeepers are attuned to the goings on of the world and use their insight to end threats before they begin.

So much magic causes a lot of background chaos, attracting arcane aberrations and other meddlesome pests. Hunting down anomalies and keeping the streets safe falls to a bounty-hunting office administered by the Spearkeepers. Should the players wish to make their name as capable sellswords, this is the place to start.

Rumors & Goings on:

With the crown inept and the Mages of Lirisos distracted, the country lords frequently take up arms against one another, seeking to expand their territories. So long as the great city gets it’s taxes and tribute, they know they won’t be challenged.

There is no black market for cursed items and illegal spellcraft, and it most certainly doesn't move by magical means. You definitely can’t get there every fourth day by going round the corner behind the old Cat & Crescent teahouse and walking backwards down the alley. I have no idea who you are stranger, and I certainly won’t thank you for placing this gold in my pocket in exchange for this false information.

#settlement #press start #low level #city #wizard #commerce #Faction #patron #Bounty Hunting #monster hunt #astral #warfare #Merchant #D&D #D&D adventure #Adventure #homebrew #Homebrew Adventure

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simplysoriya · 5 years ago

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Vale of Eternal Nightmare

“You can not save them. No matter how hard you try… you will fail.”

The voice boomed and it echoed within her mind as she stood incapable of fighting back as those wicked words weaved their way into her core. Leaving their foul mark on her subconscious that it had already raided. As if from the nothingness they had come all around her, but from no one place in particular. While she tried to move her head to look around it only remained locked in place and unresponsive and frozen no matter how hard she tried to free it.

“They will take and they will take and they will take until there is nothing left to give. That is all you are to them. A vessel for the broken only to be used and worn until cracked and broken yourself..”

Vast darkness blanketed for miles in every direction, a cold black that smothered every sense she had. Just like the depths of the deep ocean that had swallowed her whole, she felt herself sinking weightlessly through the black abyss as this disembodied voice boomed like a storm above. Breathing became more of a chore with each passing exhale expelled the return came halted and labored. She was helpless to sink as far as the void would take her. Ironic that something she loved so much had become such a terrible fate. Lost to the sea as a disembodied voice harped on her insecurity.

“Such a weak soul. They will all leave you. They see you for what you are. Nothing but a pitiful child who has yet to learn the harsh realities of life. But you will learn...”

All of her struggle, every bit of effort she tried to expend was met with nothing but disappointment. Only rewarded with a faster descent into nothingness like an unseen weight was tethered to her center, an inescapable pull that dragged her further and further. All she had left to do was scream into the abyss. Even that failed as her cries for help were halted by a boulder sized lump in her throat. Nothing was in her control.

The voice grew more assertive, “Struggle is useless. Your feeble attempts are for nothing. You can not fight it…”

Shivers ran up her spine every time the voice spoke, only growing out to her limbs as she continually descended. The only thing she could do was blink, and even those betrayed her as several only served to deepen the sense of dreaded helplessness. Frantically she feared her vision gone as her eyelids stretched open then crashed shut repeatedly to no avail. Still there was nothing but black emptiness before her. With a final tight squeeze she kept her eyes closed as long as she could. The abyss answered back….

Booming in an echo now the voice invaded her mind, “Avert your gaze, shut your eyes, try and shut Us out... You can not run from it…”

Once she finally opened her eyes Soriya was met with the manifestation of nightmare itself. A single massive eye hovered before her with a piercing, icy stare that penetrated her very soul. Never blinking it unceasing remained vigil with its ghastly gaze set solely on her. With a single dark slit of a pupil bled red into a pure yellow cornea several sizes bigger than she herself that the distance between them felt like none at all while still retaining the full scope.

It was so loud that it reverberated to her very core, “The end is close. You can not hide from it…”

A second eyeball opened it’s ugly glare before a third, flanking the first. New ones continued to pop around their patriarch from the darkness around her, never breaking from the monk herself as if locked to her. Try as she might to close her own eyes and regain some semblance of control, she could still feel them as they invaded her mind- ever searching as if studying her very essence.

“For so long has He waited. But He is free now and He is coming...He is Eternal..” The sinister tone left in a whisper as suddenly the staring eyeballs blinked out of existence.

Abruptly her feet hit the ground first before the weight that had dragged her down this far forced her to collapse on to her knees. Her arms flew forward instinctively to catch her fall, but the joy of regaining her motor skills were stifled as that enormous weight continued to bare down on her. Even if she could now move any effort in trying to get up was halted by that overbearing pressure.

“You can not begin to imagine what he can take... and He is hungry…”

A structure slowly emerged from the darkness at a steady pace. Step by step two circular staircases running parallel came into view, instantly she recognized the architecture and craftsmanship as Pandarian, a familiar landscape that she couldn’t shake the feeling she had been to. The banners and trade goods that ran up those twin staircases only furthered that line of thought as familiar faces of the Houjin emerged from the abyss. As the figure was revealed from its shroud of black Soriya saw The Shrine of Seven Suns clearly, but something was very wrong...

“IN HIS WAKE EVERYTHING WILL BE CONSUMED- EVERYTHING!..”

As the vision began to peel back layer by layer horror began to consume it. Tendrils bigger than tree trunks ripped through the earth to assault the Shrine with their spiked flails. Unknown monstrosities that resembled no man she had ever seen broke through the front line defenders as if they were nothing, wielding dark magics that had either victimized the complacent or crippled the honorable, all so these creatures could feed on their fears. Eyes floated above the cliff side that surrounded the shrine- though their gaze seemed fixated on her.

Every ounce of her being wished to lift herself up to her feet and help. Pleading with every Celestial she could list for the strength to get up and do something as she watched one by one as the familiar faces of the Shrine were run down. But all she could manage was a hand that struggled against its own weight reached in their direction.

Softly the voice whispered in a caressing tone running directly counter from it’s prior outburst, “The only truth is that you will suffer. You do not have to share that fate if you only give in…The Sleeping City Awaits...”

The entire world began to shake uncontrollably as Soriya started on hopeless and horrified as she witnessed the Shrine crumble beneath the Voids assault. It’s image seared into her memory as feelings of failure sank into the pits of her stomach threatened to drag her down further. Unable to move still under the immense weight of her worst fears, she could do nothing but watch as the survivors were slaughtered and the complacent crushed beneath piles of rubble.

The shaking continued until she could feel it against the side of her shoulder. A familiar voice whispered in her ear, “Soriya? Soriya wake up.”

Teal eyes shot open as the monk scurried back into her small cot. Disheveled from the nightmare she stared back sheepishly at a human face. Slowly she began to regain her barings, and her memories, as she looked around the room. Crisp mountain air and the sound of wind against the old wooden window panes hit her first. The Temple of the White Tiger was distinct in its structure as she vaguely remembered the passed few days of training.

“Are you okay?” Luther, one of the White Tiger Masters asked in a gentle tone. “You looked as if you were having quite the nightmare.”

A hand came to rub at her tired eyes as she took an extra moment. Was it a nightmare? She questioned silently as she still tried to make heads or tails of what had just happened. It was the first coherent thought she had since she had awoken.

Unable to come up with a reply as a litany of thoughts raced through her head she managed out, “It was nothing important.”

With a nod he continued, even if the concern never left his voice, “The Grandmaster is assembling the monks in the training courtyards for a meeting.” A grim expression marred his weathered features before he stated, “Something has happened in the Vale.”

“What?! What happened?” Soriya asked desperately as the visions of destruction still stained her mind.

After a pause Luther finally uttered, “...it’s best if the Grandmaster explains that himself. Best bring your armor, too.”

It took the troop of forty monks two days to reach the Gate of the August Celestials from the Temple of the Tiger thanks to the generosity of the Grummles and their caravan. It served as a makeshift and moving campsite even if the large collection of warriors mostly had to walk. Banding together was how those in Pandaria had survived for so long, a practice that was not since forgotten- especially when crisis struck.

The trip through the heartland was a solemn one at best. Many among the ranks had personally witnessed the serene bastion of the countries capitol become a battlefield for the factions, and a playground for the Sha. Their monuments corrupted and desecrated under Garrosh Hellscream and Y’shaarj leading them down a dark period in time that many native to Pandaria held deep within their hearts. The grief they had endured, the pain suffered, and the hardship that had only just begun to heal. And to think it was under attack, again? After so many years of restoration that many of the monkhood personally lent aid to? The two days had been somber as the sense of duty remained steadfast on each of their minds.

Still conversation and gossip did stir here and there. The Grandmaster had told them that an ancient enemy had once again attacked the Vale and had sent his finest warriors to assist in the task of defending it with promises of more resources on the way. Lack of detail provided lent way for rumors to swirl around the trope of fighters and fortune seekers. Some had said that the Old Ones had returned to impose their wicked will on the Vale once more, others spoke of the Mogu seeking to regain a foothold, and even more blamed the recently active Mantid Swarm for the unrest and sense of emergency. A few of the more far fetched even said that there was a secret clan of Mogu operating in the Vales defense and at least one claimed that Ra-Den, the god of thunder & lightening, had returned.

Soriya found herself at the back of the pack, lagging behind with a tired step as she contended a perpetual haze lingering since the night before. Sleep had become restless at best after the vision had hijacked her dream and left it’s seething mark. It was uncharacteristic of her to drag her feet, let alone on the trail of one of Pandaria’s more beautiful locales. Yet she remained unable to shake the dread that sat itself upon her shoulders ever since the night of her vision..

“Hey lass. Ye got anythin’ in tha’ waterskin, do ya?” The gruff grumble of a Dwarven accent questioned. Standing about as high as her waist the Dark Iron looked up expectantly to the sin’dorei. Right off the bat she could tell his rank and style by the emblem he wore, though the brew cask strapped to his back was a far more obvious indicator.

Soriya nodded politely as she reached around for her pack. Pulling the skin of water from it’s snug tie on the side of her bag and handing it over. “You can have the rest if you need it. We’re not too far from a camp I should be fine until then.”

“Bless ya lass.” The dwarf replied graciously before taking the skin and draining its contents. With a reinvigorated grunt out he exclaimed, “Ah, tha was needed. Had a wee bi’ too much last night, me heads been killlin’ me all mornin’.” He continued to explain. Sizing her up as he handed her flask back a deep red brow rose as he inquired, “Got alot on yer mind?”

Taking the flask back Soriya sucked in a breath before she answered, “Yeah. It’s been a while since I’ve been back here. I heard they were able to restore the corruption from years ago, I guess I was hoping to see it on different terms.” She explained in a low voice, as not to disturb the others in their immediate area.

The hungover dwarf took another gracious swig before pointing his chin downward as he took up a thoughtful expression. A grizzled hum put another moment of silence between them. “So ya fought here before then, yeah?” He asked, surely knowing that a majority of the caravan had.

Without a word Soriya merely nodded her confirmation to his question.

Another thoughtful hum escaped the dwarf, however, this time he was quicker to speak his mind, “I’m glad ta’ have ya here with us, then.” He asserted in a warm tone. “The way I see it is the world’s in dire need of people like ya. People who looked into the darkness and keep on fightin’.”

His words had cut through that haze of tension that had been clouding over her for the passed few days like a ray of sunshine in spite of the overcast. It was genuine, and uplifting, even from such an unexpected source. All she could do was smile at the sentiment as they continued down the beaten path, unsure how to answer. Instead something else in her words came to mind as she asked, “Darkness? Do you really think they’re back?”

“Aye…” The dwarf replied grimly. “If wha’ I gathers not ah buncha horse crap. Been talkin’ to a lot o’folks around the caravan.”

Those words were of no comfort to the already weary Soriya as she swiftly grew quiet. Instead tired eyes wandered up the mystical Gate that separated the borders of Kun-Lai from the Vale. Such an exquisite marvel was the jewel of the far reaching wall built centuries ago and maintained diligently since. The further they traversed the further she got her answer as to what threatened the vale. It was like her nightmare yet so much worse. Such stark reminders and symbolism that rocked her to her very core. That weight that had kept her down in her dream felt all too real. The already sensitive subject of the Vale was torn at, only deepening the sorrow of the sights before her. It was truly chaos in all of it’s forms.

Almost instantly as they crossed the threshold the sky grew cloudy like a storm as a redish purple hue ran through its entirety like a disease. That same overcast left the landscape harshly lit and enveloped in darkness. Eerie monuments that’s crimson glowing letters stuck out even miles away were seen off in the distance. As they continued into the heart of the Vale it only grew worse the further they went. Familiar eyeballs grow themselves alongside tendrils rooted in the very mountains themselves. Horrific otherworldly worms trailed in the sky- yet they were no cloud serpent she had ever seen. Though most jarring was the monument of terror erected over the pools of Whitepetal Lake, a large and monstrous spire that reached toward the stars floating ominously atop a symbol of such peace and tranquility.

Her spiral only continued as questions swirled; what it might mean as coincidence was a comfort she could no longer accept. Why did she receive such a vision? What was the purpose of letting her know early? Who spoke to her? Each played in her mind on repeat as she scanned over the disembodied voice of the Void that had spoken to her the night prior.

Mogu clans clashed off in the distance. Turning the fields of Guo-Lai into a bloodstained battleground as the song of steel against steel rung out for all to hear. Never had the operated so brazenly, and yet it seemed not a single grouping missed the opportunity to seize the Vale in the chaos.

Mantid flew overhead in droves, swarming the skies in numbers she hadn’t seen since Y’shraaj. Flying in tandem with the Void creatures as if they were working toward the same goal lent more and more evidence to the second coming of the Old Ones. Ceaseless buzzing from their wings and unsettling clicks of their mandibles was the background noise to their caravans march.

Hope seemed all but gone before they even arrived. Faced with overwhelming odds on multiple fronts the feeling of helplessness began to set in as her shoulders slouched and head dipped down. The corruption of such a revered place too much to bare. Every bit of her being ached with sorrow in the face of horrid act after horrid act, and her there doing nothing but looking on with a slacked jaw.

Desperately she hoped a hand would shake her awake to tell her it was just a dream... but no such thing came.

“Yu’lon?” Soriya broke from her stupor at the sight of desperately needed hope as the Celestial soared the skies above. Swooping down over a crowded part of the battlefield with a devastating blanket of jade fire.

“Aye lass… all the Celestials are here.”

Hope and horror were woven together. One had not been without the other for days now. The Celestials had come to lend their aid in the Vales time of need, and while there was comfort in that, there was also the reality of how serious of a situation it was. What was happening in the Vale was more then anyone had been able to tell her in words. It was something she had to see for herself before she could truly believe. One thing was certain in it all; Her home was in danger and she once more had to fight to protect it.

#story #canon #visions of n'zoth #soriya #RP #wra

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