#Sylvas was an experience enough

[soloavengers]

the EvilSyl collection 😈

[primamchorus]

In Good Hands

In the wake of the Prince's absence, the young Ignis finds himself with a wealth of free time he is not quite used to. Outside his normal routine, at any rate. When the Prince makes his return, however, Ignis makes sure to wear the mantle of Hand of the King with fervor.

Word Count: 2,529

FFXV: Reimagined Table of Contents

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Chatter filled the halls more days than not during the King and Prince’s absence. More so than usual. The neatly dressed boy noticed this as he walked down them in order to continue his classes, as had been instructed of him by his uncle. However, he could not deny the anxiety that welled within his stomach, making him feel a near constant sense of unease.

The boy experienced weeks of this. Nearly two months’ worth while the royal family and a couple of their retainers were overseas.

He knew full well that the King and the Prince needed to go to Tenebrae after the attack that transpired on  the Prince’s way to Cape Caem for their summer vacation a couple months back. From what the boy knew, the Prince returned to the castle in a sorry shape, necessitating a wheelchair in order to get around. The King fretted over him constantly, especially since the Queen of Insomnia’s life had been taken in the attack. It was a saddening and upsetting experience all around.

Opening the door to his private class, the boy glanced up and saw two familiar girls. As expected. They were a momentary distraction from his thoughts. Friends, for the most part. They were from one of the other noble houses: House Vox. The boy knew them as the future Ears of the King, Vera and Lyra Vox. He then noted their private teacher who wrote up a list of items on the chalkboard.

They were to write an essay, apparently, about the history of Insomnia.

Nodding at the Vox siblings in greeting, the boy adjusted his bag and walked toward his typical seat. Once he took his seat, the teacher explained briefly what she expected of them for the day. It was just essays on previously learned material. Open book.

Simple enough.

The boy stared down at his notebook after he got it opened and set before him. His thoughts drifted every now and then. It was hard to think about the past history of Insomnia when there were current events that were shaping the history of their kingdom as they sat there.

He hated fidgeting, but the boy could not help how he twisted and rolled his pencil between his fingers. The teacher got up and excused herself from the classroom, only offering a brief departing statement. After the teacher left, closing the door behind herself, the boy was tapped gently on his shoulder.

He turned, knowing who to expect already. He saw one of two girls looking at him; Vera. What he did not expect was the worried expression on her face. Turning to give her his full attention, he gave her an unwavering, expectant look.

“What is it, Vera?” the boy asked, his voice a low whisper.

There was hesitance from Vera as she lifted a hand to nervously curl a finger into her black hair. She broke eye contact, and her lips pursed into a tight frown. This concerned the boy as he watched her.

“Aestus reported to our family last night,” Vera started, glancing back at the other girl behind them briefly before looking back at the boy. “We think our dad already told your parents, but…you should know that there was a Niflheim raid at the Fenestala Manor when they found out that the King and Prince made contact. Queen Sylva is dead… As is Ros’ mother, Aurae.”

There was a pain in the boy’s chest just then. Was this what people meant when they claimed it felt like a knife was driven into them?

Two attacks in such a short time from one another? Was Niflheim really interested in souring what already tenuous relationship it had with Lucis?

“What of the royal family?” the boy slowly managed, keeping himself as level as he could. Of course he wanted to know immediately the status of the King and Prince.

“Safe…as far as we’re aware. Our brother said that they vacated the premises quickly. Supposedly, the King was meant to bring back the Queen of Tenebrae’s children, but…he couldn’t.” Vera let out a silent sigh. “Just…when Noctis is back, do your best not to bombard him with too many responsibilities, Ignis. I think the last thing he would want to think about being back here is about anything that has to do with being a Prince or even part of the Crown for a bit.”

Ignis gave a slow nod in understanding, a frown upon his lips as he turned back toward his work. Looking over his shoulder briefly, he said, “thank you for telling me, Vera.”

Vera slunk back into her own chair, glancing briefly at her sister, and resumed writing her essay. When Ignis heard their pencils scribbling on paper, he closed his eyes and brought a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose. Summer was meant to have been more of a break for all of them, but it seemed fate was much more inclined to make things difficult.

Really, there was much to bear in mind upon the Prince’s return.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The day finally came when the Prince returned alongside the King. The mood was somber, as had been expected, especially considering all of what Ignis learned beforehand from Vera. However, Ignis did his best to not allow this to deter him too much…at least from his studies and other obligations around the royal grounds as he had come to fold into his daily routine.

Still, Ignis’ mind wandered. It was hard not to think about everything else.

After all, there were missed assignments that had to be passed to the Prince. Folders and collections of homework that the Arms had brought back from school. Not to mention that there were plenty of other things that happened in the time that the Prince and King had been away that Ignis wanted to bring up and speak on further when it came to meeting with the Prince once more.

Ignis shook his head, his brow furrowed. He was falling into that state of mind of making sure that everything that the Prince needed to take care of was ready to have been delivered. Vera was right when he recalled her small plea. The Prince would need time to just…have his mind find peace in a familiar place.

Tasks were complete. That was what was important for now as Ignis collected himself as best he could. He thought better than to seek out the Prince right away. Now that he grounded himself back into all the reasons he should keep to himself for now.

With the excitement of the Prince having returned from Tenebrae, Ignis found himself staying at the Citadel later than normal. He roamed the halls, having been given permission from his father at the time. The feeling of having so much freedom was foreign to Ignis as he walked down the polished halls. This much must have been reflected in his perplexed expression, twisted that way as his mind continued to flit back and forth between duty and keeping himself restrained.

‘Troublesome…’ Ignis idly thought to himself as a sigh fell from his nose. Of course he was worried and concerned. Not even for the Prince, but for one of the other noble children that would have been greatly affected by the news that was sure to reach him swiftly -- the Prince’s own cousin.

Was there even anything he could do to occupy his time? To distract himself?

Ignis paused in the corridor, hand soon going to his chin. He gave thought to what he could have been doing. His parents were always adamant about him being taught to have been the future Hand of the King. For the most part, it was all he knew. What was there that he could do that was not part of that routine?

Time felt like it dragged on as Ignis resumed walking the halls in idle fashion. His pensive expression remained, and thoughts flowed through his head. The more he considered anything, the less aware he became of his surroundings beyond routine. After all, his surroundings became a big part of that routine. They were the same, never changing, and memorized by this point. They were so well memorized, he was sure he could walk them blindfolded if need be.

Ignis hid his frustration well. The only thing that would have made it evident is if anyone tried to interact with him. His thoughts were scattered and loud. He was focused on just moving and following the familiar pattern of routine.

Each hall. Each window. Each door. Each tile.

Memorized.

Routine.

Routine…

There was no routine. Not now. Perhaps not for a while.

When Ignis finally came back to the reality around him, he found himself in an all too familiar hall. It was the hall that led to the Prince’s quarters.

Ignis pursed his lips momentarily.

This was not where he intended to go.

‘And where did you intend to go?’ Ignis bitterly thought to himself. He looked down the hall, noting the absence of guards. Perhaps the Prince was being cared for elsewhere? It was only the first official day since he returned from Tenebrae.

Turning, Ignis decided it was perhaps best he be on his way. Surely the Prince was not here, not that it would have mattered. The Prince needed his rest. Especially after everything Ignis had been told by Vera.

The sound of a door being opened made Ignis pause and look over his shoulder. When he cast his gaze down the hall once more, he saw the door to the Prince’s room swinging open with some difficulty. Ignis did not think twice about running down to hold the door open.

“Noct!” Ignis could not help how the Prince’s nickname fell from him with a sense of both elation and worry.

The Prince – Noct – struggled to get past his door with his new crutches. It seemed for all the time the Prince was gone, he went from being bound to a wheelchair to being able to walk again with some aid. Ignis only heard what happened and what affected the Prince in passing, but he never forgot. He never forgot how people ran left and right down the halls, disrupting his routine. He never forgot the hushed whispers and rising panic from some of House Viridis about how the young Prince was touched by the Starscourge.

“Are you well enough that you can be walking out on your own?” Ignis asked, reigning in his own rising panic. He tried to avoid looking at the crutches, but he could not help it.

This did not escape Noct's notice.

For a moment, Noct’s expression soured. He readjusted the crutches under his arms and began to meander past Ignis. He hobbled, clearly not used to the crutches in any full capacity.

Ignis noticed they were just a couple inches too long for Noct. Furrowing his brow, Ignis watched Noct a while longer before trailing behind him. Then he walked in step with him, keeping his gait slow in order to walk alongside him.

Silence with the occasional clack, clack of the crutches filled the air.

“... I took to organizing your wardrobe and bookshelves while you were away,” Ignis started, attempting to cut through the silence and at least bring some semblance of normalcy to them.

Silence once more.

“I also made sure any new comics that were picked up for you were placed on top of your dresser to read later if you so wished,” Ignis continued. Surely there was something that Noct would have latched onto in order to pursue some sort of interaction.

Noct paused, then so did Ignis. For a moment, Ignis looked at the back of Noct curiously, noting how his head tilted downward to look at the floor.

“... Can you and everyone else stop treating me like a child…?” Noct quietly said. It was clear that he was beginning to seethe. Or perhaps, he was finally showing the cracks that he was trying to keep together since coming back from Tenebrae.

“I--” Ignis cut himself off, and he looked away. “I’m sorry.”

Of course. It was natural for Noct to harbor misgivings and rage from everything that happened in such a short amount of time. Ignis knew this, though he thought casual conversation would have helped to take the Prince’s mind from it all.

Evidently not.

Perhaps the wounds were too new to soothe.

“...” Noct slowly turned toward Ignis, his crutches clacking as he adjusted. “... It's… It's not your fault. I didn't mean to snap at you. I just…”

Ignis turned his attention back toward Noct. When silence filled the air once more, he stepped forward and motioned forward with a slight bow. “Think nothing of it, Prince Noctis. I know you're probably wanting to walk around, but may we find a place to sit?”

Noctis considered the question momentarily and turned back in the direction he was headed initially. He hobbled forward, finally replying with, “yeah, sure…”

Their venture in finding a place to sit brought them to one of the suspended gardens where a bench was present. When they were seated, Ignis took up the crutches and began fiddling with them so that they were adjusted for Noctis’ height. Noctis watched in silence, a frown present on his lips.

“Hey, thanks…” Noctis quietly said, having realized what Ignis was doing. “The nurses in Tenebrae that looked after me showed me how to use them, but…”

Noctis trailed off, his gaze falling to the ground.

“... I know,” Ignis replied. He figured that Noctis must have been thinking about the attack. “It…can't have been easy. I'm sorry for what you went through.”

“... Yeah…” Noctis idly responded. It was a response more to indicate he heard Ignis at all more than to affirm anything regarding the discussion as a whole. Shifting in his seat, Noctis leaned back and looked up, staring at the darkening sky beyond the garden's glass ceiling. “I…just wish we could have brought them here. Luna. Ravus. Stella…”

Ignis kept his attention on Noctis, back straight, gaze unwavering.

“... Dad tried… With Luna at least…” Noctis continued. He clenched his jaw, his brow furrowing in frustration. “If I could have just run on my own…maybe then…”

“It's not your fault, Noct,” Ignis interjected, furrowing his brow. He placed the readjusted crutches close to Noctis. “You can't help being injured. It's Niflheim at fault for everything. They took advantage of not just your vulnerability, but the Oracle's as well as they cared for you.”

The air felt tense for a moment, and Ignis believed he crossed a line with what he said. However, he remained firm, his attention never leaving Noctis.

It was true, was it not? After all, Vera reported to him about the attack, and there was no reason to doubt the Ears of the King -- not with information like that.

“Yeah… You’re right…” Noctis finally said. He kept his gaze pointed upward. “I hope Dad does all he can to help them. If he can’t, then when I become King…I’ll free them. I’ll free all of Tenebrae and the rest of the lands from Niflheim’s rule.”

[thisfairytalegonebad]

Flare - Whumptober day 14

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Character: Noctis Lucis Caelum Rating: Teen and up Warnings: None

Read below the cut or on AO3 here.

Noct got lucky, all things considered. Lucky he was born as the Crown Prince, with immediate access to medical attention from the best doctors in the country. Lucky his father shied away from neither cost nor effort to ensure that in addition to the scientific approach, he also got treated by the Oracle, Queen Sylva of Tenebrae herself.

If he were anyone else, he would have never walked again.

This is what he’s been told many times, by doctors, politicians, journalists, even his own father. Lucky, they call him, and he supposes he sees where they’re coming from, but it’s still kind of a stupid thing to say - it’s not like he’s had any control over any of it.

Right now, he doesn’t feel very lucky at all.

Waking up is always a chore, his internal clock’s factory settings are just running a few hours behind and he’s used to that. He hates getting up in the morning, hates how tired he is all day, and hates that this is the case no matter how early he goes to bed.

Today, the moment he sluggishly blinks his eyes open, it’s not tiredness that makes him want to curl up and die. No, it’s the dull ache in his back that spikes into blinding agony the moment he tries to move, and in his half-awake state, he can’t hold back a high-pitched whine.

Even if he wanted to get up, he’s not sure he could. If he had to guess, he’d say probably not, and that’s speaking from experience. It’s far from the first time this has happened, but it’s been months, nearly a year since the last time so he’s almost forgotten how much it hurts.

It’s a Wednesday, he’s supposed to get up for school, and even though he woke up before his alarm this morning - which in itself should’ve made him suspicious - it’s already light out so it’s probably almost time.

He knows he should get his phone, check the time, turn off his alarm and maybe call Ignis, tell him he doesn’t need to bother picking him up for school today - there’s no way he can go like this, he can’t even move - but he simply can’t work up the willpower to twist enough to actually grab it.

So he just lies there for a while, simply existing, and when his alarm finally does go off he tries to turn it off, but moving sends sharp bolts of pain down his spine, and his phone’s all the way on the nightstand and it hurts so much he can’t manage to reach it.

The alarm blares for what feels like hours while Noct grits his teeth and resigns himself to the fact that he’s going to find out how long it’ll go on before turning off automatically.

He doesn’t get to find out, because it’s still blaring next to his ear when his door opens and Ignis steps inside, clearly intending to wake him up.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise when Noct makes eye contact, which is fair, Noct usually doesn’t even see as far as the door yet when Ignis comes to kick him out of bed.

“Your alarm is going off,” Ignis points out helpfully, then frowns and comes to stand next to the bed when he realises Noct isn’t making any move to turn it off. “Is everything alright?”

“Back hurts,” Noct tells him curtly. Pain makes him crabby and he isn’t in the mood for pleasantries. Ignis will understand, he always does.

“I see,” Ignis says, bending down to turn off the alarm himself. “I’ll call the school, let them know. Do you wish to sleep some more?”

He does, but he doesn’t think he can with his current levels of pain. The dull ache he felt right after waking up has been slowly increasing to the point where it’s impossible to ignore, even without moving.

“Painkillers first, I think.”

“Of course.” Ignis saunters out of the room and returns within a minute with a glass of water and the painkillers.

“No water,” Noct quickly says, because he’s not sitting up enough to not spill water all over himself and he’s definitely not about to get into a position where he can comfortably drink.

He takes the pills from Ignis and swallows them dry, then closes his eyes and waits for them to kick in so he can go back to sleep.

----

When he wakes again, his curtains are drawn - Ignis’ doing, Noct always leaves them open at night so he can see the moon and stars when it’s clear out - and his back still hurts, but the painkillers haven’t quite worn off yet so he’s actually able to sit up somewhat and grab his phone.

It’s late morning and he’s got a bunch of texts from Prompto, concerned but not panicked, so apparently Ignis filled him in. He quickly answers them then puts his phone away and faces an uncomfortable truth: he really, really needs to pee.

Slowly, painstakingly, he turns in bed until his legs hang over the edge, and then he has to stop and take a few deep breaths in anticipation of the pain before he actually pushes himself to his feet.

Even when it’s expected, the pain is enough to take his breath away for a moment, but when it subsides to a more bearable level, he thinks he might be able to make it to the bathroom that’s attached to his bedroom, but when he goes to take the first step, his confidence falters.

If it were just the pain in his back, he thinks he could power through it long enough to shuffle to the bathroom, but his leg feels weak and unstable and he doesn’t really want to risk falling, so after a moment of hesitation, he sucks it up and calls for Ignis.

Ignis, of course, shows up within seconds and is by his side even faster than that.

“Do you want to lean on me?” he asks without preamble, bless him. For all his fussiness, Noct is really glad Ignis knows him well enough to figure out what he needs right now without panicking over him or asking him loads of stupid questions.

“Yeah,” he says and lets Ignis take most of his weight as he slowly, painstakingly limps to the bathroom.

While he’s in there, he also uses the opportunity to quickly brush his teeth because he is not getting up again after this.

When he comes back out, Ignis is there to support him back to the bed, and by the time he’s lying back down he kind of wants to cry with pain and exhaustion and just general misery.

“Do you need anything else?” Ignis asks, hovering by the door.

Noct is about to decline when he reconsiders. “My tablet?”

Might as well entertain himself if he's going to be stuck in bed all day.

----

The day passes in an uncomfortable blur of pain and sleep and boredom, with Noct alternating between dozing and watching mindless videos on his tablet, but by late afternoon, he can’t stand it anymore.

It’s been long enough for him to safely take another dose of painkillers, so he pops some pills into his mouth, and when Ignis comes to check on him the next time, he asks to be taken to the living room.

“Can we watch a movie?” he half-begs as Ignis helps him make his way out of his room and onto the couch.

Ignis hesitates for a moment, long enough for familiar guilt to well up in Noct’s chest - Ignis is so busy all the time, of course he doesn’t have time to watch a movie with Noct, it’s bad enough he’s been stuck babysitting him all day - but then smiles at him, soft and gentle, and says, “Of course, Noct.”

His back is on fire by the time he’s deposited on the couch, legs across Ignis’ lap, but the change of scenery is worth it.

Ignis lets him pick the movie because of course he does, so he picks a childhood favourite of his. It's an animated movie that he remembers Specs liking too when they were kids, hoping that it'll make up for his now messed up schedule a little

At first, Ignis has his laptop on Noct’s legs, working quietly while glancing at the TV screen and occasionally making a comment about the movie, but by the time the movie reaches its climax, he shuts the laptop and just watches.

It’s nice, in a way. Noct’s still hurting and he knows from experience that he’ll be out of commission for the rest of the week, he’s still in for a few days of agony, and after that, he’ll have to take up physical therapy with Gladio again, but he also gets to spend some downtime with Ignis for the first time in forever, and that, at least, makes it all bearable.

----

Read all of my Whumptober prompt fills here.

[fumikomiyasaki]

☰ and ☆ for anyone you'd like :3c

Summer Starters

☰ for our muses to take a stroll along a seaside boardwalk at a summer carnival

"You didn't lie when you said this island was huge..."

"Well duh, I picked it myself for a reason."

It was summer vacation and Sylva took Adore on a trip to that Island she owned and maintained... yet everything was a bit overwhelming for her girlfriend to think Sylva owns all this. Both got themselves candied apples and walked along the boardwalk looking at the big ferris wheel on the side.

"I mainly bought this place at first to play beach volleyball in peace.... then came pools, little shops, locations, party houses, and the more wishes and ideas the people had, the most we built it up, babe. "

Sylva stretcher her arms and looked back at her.

"Which means I can give you a tour and tonight I tell you some date spots you can pick."

"Hmm... can't we just enjoy the sunset at the beach?"

"Anything for ya... Oh but I do know where we can eat later... but for now."

She pointed towards the see, even if the carnivals music dimmed the experience, seeing the fish and the ocean was calming, Adore closed her eyes as she felt Sylvas arm around her hips, seeing her give a cheeky smile.

"Its great... I understand why you come here... the atmosphere is wonderfull for a date."

"Given yer plans... maybe if you have some lovebirds we can bring then here too... it be fun to see if you can wingman them."

"It would mean a lot if you allow me."

"Then its a deal, but for now, let me enjoy time with my pretty girlfriend."

She pulled her closer and kissed her neck shortly before smiling back.

"Come on, lets go enjoy some of the Carnival rides."

☆ for our muses to watch fireworks together

At first he thought this would be boring... Francine was already asleep and many of the RSA students sat down doing nothing.... Barry sat next to Edgar and hoped not to die from boredom... he himself disliked that he could look over, feel his heart beat quickly just to know that he could never tell him... he could never actually tell he loved him without it only causing trouble for him. He started to close his eyes and think of some of the superhero he enjoys... untill he felt the light explode into the sky.

"Its beautiful..." He heard Edgar say next to him...

"At least something happens... we waited forever."

No reaction... maybe the whole fire work drowned out his voice... maybe for his heart he could use this... maybe telling his feelings and hoping nobody would hear it over the fire works was the way to get some weight of his shoulders.

He looked a little bit more on how the fireworks blew up in the sky and looked back at him.. fumbling fingers thinking about everything.

And so he took the risk, turned to Edgar and waited till one explosion went off.

"I love you..."

"You do?"

Suddenly his whole world shattered... was the explosion actually not loud enough, blood rushed to his head and he grew nervous trying to escape the situation.

"Y-YOU HEARD THAT WRONG I SAID NOTHING!" And on instinct Barry dashed away... hidding nearby behind a tree and taking his breath... he could have risked everything cause of one dumb move... why did he have to feel that way... and so he sat down and watched the firework from afar... hoping nobody will find him crying in secret like this.

[xasha777]

In the year 2432, Earth's ecosystems had withered to near extinction, prompting the formation of the Take Ichi convoy, a collection of the world’s most brilliant minds and sophisticated AIs, tasked with finding and terraforming new planets. Aboard the flagship, The Verdant, was Dr. Elara Myles, a renowned environmental scientist whose unique approach to plant life revival had earned her a crucial role.

Dr. Myles was not merely a scientist; she was also the key to the convoy’s success. Her connection to plant life was profound, rumored to be the result of experimental gene therapy that intertwined her DNA with that of various flora, making her an integral part of her own experiments. Elara's most striking feature, a headpiece made of living dandelion seeds and vibrant moss, symbolized her life’s work and connection to Earth’s nature.

The Verdant arrived at a promising exoplanet, christened Sylva, that had the basic constituents for human life yet lacked a sustainable ecosystem. Elara’s mission was to kickstart a new ecological era. Dressed in a suit embedded with seeds and spores from Earth’s resilient plants, she stepped onto the surface of Sylva, her presence a scattering of potential life.

As she walked the barren plains, Elara’s suit dispensed seeds in a calculated manner, each step bringing forth a burst of life where only dust existed moments before. The plants were genetically modified to thrive on Sylva, equipped to adapt to the alien soil and climate. Yet, this was not enough for Elara. She believed the planet needed a consciousness, a guiding force that could nurture it like Earth’s nature had once nurtured humanity.

To achieve this, Elara initiated the Gaia Protocol, a controversial experiment that would link her consciousness with the planet’s developing ecosystem via an advanced neural network. The procedure was risky; it meant she might never return to human form, becoming part of Sylva itself.

As the connection was established, her mind and the nascent biosphere intertwined, Elara’s essence spread across the planet. Her thoughts became the whisper of the wind, her breath the warmth of the sun. The once lifeless planet blossomed with vibrant vegetation, forming a symbiotic relationship with its new protector.

The Take Ichi convoy watched as the green spread like a painter’s brush across the canvas of Sylva. Her colleagues mourned her loss but celebrated her transformation. Elara Myles, once a scientist, had become a deity of flora, her consciousness the core of a new world.

Years passed, and Sylva became a sanctuary, a testament to human ingenuity and the unyielding will of life. Legends of the Green Lady, guardian of Sylva, passed through the generations, inspiring a new era of ecological respect and balance. As other worlds joined the Take Ichi project, they looked to Sylva as the epitome of successful terraforming—a beacon of hope and a reminder of the Earth they once knew, sustained by the eternal vigilance of Dr. Elara Myles.

[darth-bagel]

1, 14, 28 from the OC ask list for whoever you want!

Thanks for asking! Let's kick things off with Sylvas, I am actually proud of those three and the amount of backstory I shoved into them. And as I am at the very beginning of Smuggler campaign I'm mostly focusing on pre-campaign events.

1.What's one (cough-cough) experience your character had that made them very afraid?

Sylvas isn’t a very fearful person but they had few experiences that just stuck with them.

One was definitely when they got stranded alone on Nar Shaddaa, they have blown all their money away the night before, overslept for the crew meeting, and-- well their crewmates just left them on the Smuggler’s Moon. Hungover. With only their clothes on their back and the comm in their pocket. They frantically tried to call the ship-- but when finally someone picked up they were left with ‘tough luck, buddy’ and then the comm silence. Dread and ice pooling in their stomach they have to come up with a plan, and fast. In the end, they managed to even get off better than before, also they met some of their best friends on Nar Shaddaa.

The next time something like that happened, on Ord Mantell, the fear gave way to burning anger nearly immediately.

Another was also on Nar Shaddaa (they actually consider this place unlucky for them even if it is the most lucrative place for deals) they were walking back to a rented penthouse from a dinner date with their partners (it was back in their assassin days)-- but laughing and teasing was cut short when someone started firing at them and a blaster-fight had broken out. Later they learned it was a hit ordered on them because of a specific connection of theirs.

Taliesen pushed them away from the first line of fire-- getting shot between the eyes for his trouble, Rinna’la already shooting back as Sylvas scampered to their feet. Rin also got shot and eventually nearly collapsed, Sylvas tried their best to shield her further and lead them both away, themselves only getting hit in the leg. They noticed fast that the attackers didn’t use normal blasters as they weren’t able to stem the bleeding or carry her further with their own wound-- Rin bleed out in their arms shortly thereafter and when their attackers caught up… they played dead. Wishing and begging to any god in the existence that blood from both wounds would be convincing enough. 

They still wake up with cold sweat from nightmares about that day, full of guilt, just clutching Rin, hearing her last whispered words and waiting still, begging their heart to shut up-- head pounding and dizzy from the blood loss. The day they lost two of the people closest to them.

To this day they don’t know who wanted them dead so badly, and that terrifies them.

14. Do they have someone that they consider to be a family member, even if they're not related by blood to them? What was one of your character favorite moments with them and what makes them so special to them? (I'll do that second part as some mini-fic something)

This one’s easy-- Sylvas has many good friends but people they consider family are few: their two closest friends and their partners (now late partners).

Rilfaen Price and Liz (Vliza’cani’baishusse)-- they met those two, now very famous (infamous) bounty hunters, as they were working in one of many Nar Shaddaa’s night clubs. Rilfaen was (as a side gig) working as a bartender and Liz as a bouncer (at that time those two were also dating, didn’t last long), and well, long nightshifts have a way of bringing people together. They stuck together, even to a point of renting a place together, at least until both Sylvas and ladies got their big breaks-- a very reckless tip from a client pushed them across the money threshold and they were able to buy their own ship, and Liz with Rilfaen scored a bounty big enough to get them started on that career path seriously. Sylvas decided to help along and they created together impromptu ship’s crew. Ladies eventually split and Sylvas while starting back at running various ‘deliveries’ had met first a disgraced SIS agent and her partner and then fallen promptly into a vastly different line of job.

Rinna’la, branded as compromised while undercover on an imperial planet was cut loose and decided she didn’t want to return to Republic and possible trial. She sliced her way into her records and erased as much information as she could trying to make it as hard as possible to find her in the meantime. She stole money and important intel from dead drops she had access to and selling them on the black market to the highest bidder-- she always said that if you gonna defect you should at least make something of it for yourself. After that, she picked up work as an information broker eventually dipping into forgery. 

Taliesen was one of her criminal contacts and when she cut loose from the SIS he didn’t want to leave her alone, she didn’t mind as they were pretty good friends at this point. They worked together very well.

Sylvas at that point was mostly staying in Imperial Space because it was easiest for Rilfaen and Liz to work unimpeded-- and there one of their ‘deliveries’ has landed them on the doorstep of Rinna’s and Tal’s hideout. They didn’t know they were followed and after the dust settled they offered Rin and Tal a way out on their ship. They clicked fast, Sylvas’s easy-going nature meshed nicely with both of them and mutual attraction did its thing and well the rest is history.

Liz and Rilfaen eventually split away to their own careers, still staying in contact, leaving the trio together. Each of them had unique skills, each searched for new ways to earn money, and let’s be honest, they all were thrill-seekers, and when Rinna’la one day smacked a dossier full of recent postings for people wanted dead, with a sharp smile and a promise of a big payoff… they decided to go for it. Building a reputation on speed and ruthlessness they caught an eye of a certain Sith Lord who from that point on became their regular client.

Things were going great for the three of them, up to a point.

28. When your character was younger, how did they picture themselves growing up? Does it differ from how they really turned out?

Young Sylvas had many varied ideas at how things might turn out, maybe finishing some higher school, maybe becoming a pilot for one of Corellia’s squadrons, or enlisting to the Republic… but also considering their tendencies they already didn’t expect to stay alive as long as they did, feeling deep down they would eventually cross someone high enough or get into one too many fight. 

So, yeah it differs a lot. First alive, then a mechanic occasionally a pilot on a ship, then a dancer, then a smuggler carting with bounty hunters, and eventually a part of an assassin trio of some renown-- and after a 6 months hiatus a smuggler again. But that might as well happen, their life was already so goddamn weird.

[ooc-but-stylish]

freezedive:

I think I said it in one of your other beautiful posts, but I thought I’d mention it again. All of the ridiculous cutscenes did give us a golden nugget of information on Luna that most of us who are brutally critical of her (like you and me), suspected all along: Luna openly admits to Gentiana that she doesn’t think she has anything to offer Noctis outside of being an oracle. And Gentiana makes it worse by speaking in fancy words by saying some bullshit about her being the oracle is her being human or something and that she is fulfilling her true calling and that is what Noctis needs? Idk but it reeked of emotional manipulation. 

I hold little to no regard for Ravus because there’s evidence Luna was being brutally beaten right under his own nose while he was busy being the Emperor’s lapdog thinking it could maybe give him the power to save his sister? The man should have opened his eyes and defended her against the men that kept them jailed

I happened on this reply to roxainn’s post while trying to recapitulate all my other FFXV critical posts and reblogs on the way to making new ones. 

Crawling back to find anything about this point, I find that it was posted 3 years ago. But at least I reblogged the reply to it.... and missed that it was literally @ ME. Goddamn did I slack.

But here’s my reply, 3 years late, which should elaborate on where I stand on this.

Yes, the flashback that gets triggered by a random creepy little girl in Tenebrae is about Luna and Gentiana. Somehow the little girl knew about that conversation even though she wasn’t there to witness it first-hand? Or maybe Noctis was imagining what the conversation would be like between Gentiana and Luna off of the vague suggestion from the girl, and it’s just him telling on himself that his imagination of Luna says all that? Otherwise the not-altogether-tinfoil-hat theory says it’s Gentiana in the form of a little girl, telling Noctis something that IMO should piss him off but just makes him sad and guilty because Luna loved him so much, don’t you see. She loved him so much that after wrapping her entire life around him, she’d just want to keep that going for the rest of their lives!

Gentiana opens the conversation with, “At first, the father had mourned the fate of his chosen son. Yet in Tenebrae, the two found solace. It was not the Oracle who assuaged their fears. But the girl…she holds…the true power.”

Then Luna replies, “I have little to offer a king, other than the voice afforded the Oracle. Nevertheless…” She turns to look at the wedding dress. “And—I’m afraid he might find this foolish… But…to be together with Noctis again, even if only for a short while… It…would mean the world to me. I do not seek to guide him, merely to stand beside him.”

The exchange is all types of fucky.

First off, she was twelve. What comfort could she have offered Regis and Noctis? What comfort was she capable of when Sylva was right there, an adult with experience of an Oracle and a personality thanks to a presumable full life not hampered by grooming of the gods? 

Second, every other scene of Luna as a child is of her telling Noctis his duty, and that it was her duty to see it through. Did that assuage his fears-- the fears he didn’t have at the time since he never knew the entire meaning of his fate and was being told a saccharine, embellished version of it by Luna right there? Did that comfort Regis, knowing a little girl would also die to protect his son if the gods wanted it, but that she wouldn’t have the will to avert their fates whatsoever? 

Third, even she thinks Noctis would think her desire to be with him is foolish. So... was she expecting that Noctis himself didn’t have feelings for her or want to spend time with her of his own volition for reasons outside of her job? She was looking forward to a marriage with no emotional security, where her desires are one-sided and unreciprocated, and the man she cares for think she’s worthless outside of her powers? She would’ve been willing to put herself through that, given a choice?

We know what we know and think what we think, but the fact that this was placed right in the vanilla game and no one thought that was wrong, and instead they doubled down on it in patches, is pathetic on their part.

Moreover, what does The Girl have, that was separate from The Princess and The Oracle? Every facet of her being wrapped around Noctis since age 4. She was nothing but her duty by the time Noctis met her; they had no scenes where they acted as children would. Even supplemental/promotional art for other XV media and related locales cement that. Little Luna serves Little Noctis pastries, she’s not seen eating with him. Luna teaches Noctis how to play piano, she’s not playing with him. Dawn of the Future came out with its own art, and Noctis is afforded the liberty to sit in a chair, and his son(?) sits on his lap, while Luna and her spitting image child(?) are both on their knees, looking up at the dudes. 

In most of their art together, Luna and Noctis are either not meeting each other's gazes, she's bending or kneeling to him, or he's supposed to be holding her close but he hover-hands her, or there’s that one time where they took a selfie and the picture was of their Pocket Edition versions. They’re still not looking at each other in that one. And it’s not canon.

Anyway yeah, any conversation Gentiana has with Luna about Noctis is emotional manipulation on Gentiana’s part, but the writers manage just enough to make everyone involved seem creepy and reprehensible in their own way. 

In DOTF, Luna has a death soliloquy that confirms she sunk into the water at the end of the game’s Chapter 9, but the soliloquy is about how she was prepared to die even at the age of 12, and she put on a smile and resolved to be strong for Noctis’s sake, so that he wouldn’t remember her having a look of despair. There’s a line there about how she would cry herself to sleep but Gentiana would wipe her tears. Gentiana does nothing else except allow her to cry and wipe her tears afterward, and makes no effort to save her from her fate or at least take her out of terrible situations so that she would cry fewer tears. But there is cut dialogue from the game, and used in the novel, where Gentiana revealed herself as Shiva when Luna was <16 (probably still 12 at the time), when she thought she was being held back from forming the covenants, so there’s that. And Luna still somehow ignored that this meant Shiva allowed Sylva to die, and thanked this useless goddess for her nonexistent generosity. 

For whatever reason they had to add a passage where Luna superimposes the image of an eight-year-old Noctis onto the adult version-- quote, "the image of him as a child, burned into my eyelids, overlaps with his now-grown face"-- even though Noctis has canonically sent her photos of him as a teenager (15-16, around the time he met Prompto in high school, see: Brotherhood). Granted, that's a translation from Luna's voice actress reading an excerpt as if it were first person POV. The English version says she sees the child image first, then the adult version is superimposed. Then not much after that there's a passage where Noctis smiles as his child self and it was "that smile she loved that had been in her heart all these years, giving her strength, always and forever".

So she was groomed and turned into a shell since age 4, believes she has no value outside of her job and turned her grooming on a similarly vulnerable child, and her strongest image of him, the one she fell in love with and kept in her heart, is of the helpless boy that promised her the world without knowing the cost. The smile of the carefree boy that didn't know his journey would end with his soul annihilated. It couldn’t have been that hard to have her see an image of him as the 30 year old True King of Light that he would become. At least she'd sound a little less like a weirdo who continually places herself (and is placed by the narrative) as below him, unworthy of him, etc. but also has strong feelings and memories toward a goddamn child.

Re: Ravus: you already got a reply to that, but for real? Ravus was also shafted by the plot and beaten down by terrible, amateur writing. The narrative shits on him as if it’s written by a high schooler or otherwise emotionally arrested adult trying to push a Mary Sue Protagonist. The modus operandi for those stories is that everyone who disagrees with the protagonist in any way has to suffer tremendous humiliation including but not limited to death, because the Protagonist Is Just So Good And Perfect And Always Right. 

Nothing Ravus does justifies his treatment in-game or in-fandom like he’s a one-note out-and-out villain who wanted nothing but to kill Noctis and disrespect his sister, to the point where his corpse is defiled multiple times in Chapter 13 and he’s twisted into a perversion of himself that begs to die.

Chapter 13 has Noctis land next to Ravus’s corpse and all his letters to Luna, and Noctis has piss all to say about it, either out loud or to anyone. He looks at the Sword of the Father, glances at Ravus, and without a word takes the Royal Arm and lets the Magitek arm-- still dripping, still gross-- fall onto Ravus’s body and doesn’t even move it.  

He had no way of knowing beforehand that Ignis and Gladio knew of Ravus being killed. WE didn't even know they saw security footage until Ch13V2 was added in. Noctis happening on his late fiancée's dead bro sounds, I don’t fucking know, like something you’d want to tell everyone else about later. Along with the letters he wrote evidencing that he intended to return the Sword of the Father to Noctis!

An aside: The Letters from Ravus are just weird to behold; it isn't 100% clear whether Luna ever received all of those letters. She had to have received the first one, at least. But the idea that Ardyn intercepted even one other letter so that Luna never heard from her brother between Tenebrae and Altissia is farfetched. He shouldn’t be able to intercept those messages as if they were delivered conventionally. Luna has a pair of magic space-bending Shiba Inu that send letters instantly across continents. If she’s sparing their use to send Noctis one-liners and stickers but can’t afford that for Ravus to send her discrete updates on Noctis’s status, she’s a piece of shit. 

They do meet in Tenebrae as Ravus wanted her to, and they have the conversation where he gets on her case about her “throwing [her] life away” for Noctis. So chances are higher that Ardyn only got a hold of all three letters after Luna received them and no sooner, but then he shouldn’t be tossing letters from Ravus at the dude’s body when it makes more sense for him to toss down letters to Ravus, since the writers wanted to make a point of Ardyn having a vicious streak. It makes way more sense for Ardyn to deprive Ravus of Luna’s writing, then insult him with them post-mortem, unless Ravus’s notes were really all he could acquire, meaning Luna never once wrote back to her brother. 

The Doylist explanation is that the writing team sucks and couldn't be assed to think of anything for Luna to say because they didn't think of her at all. The Watsonian explanation is that Luna’s a piece of shit and that tracks with her in Kingsglaive watching her brother burn alive in response to the Ring, but ignoring him and running to Regis’s aid instead, but then the rest of the plot presents her as morally pure through her white clothing and “unconditional, self-abnegating love” for Noctis.

Back to the topic: I don’t know, maybe I’m being old fashioned, but Noctis should’ve given more of a shit that his dropping the Magitek Arm on Ravus’s body was probably what turned him into a mutated abomination begging to die, and he thought so little of Ravus that the dude isn’t even in the glimpse of "people who helped me get this far" in the Beyond. Ravus doesn’t even get a spot to wish Noctis and Luna well on their afterlife wedding, not that it makes any sense for any of them to have words to say since Noctis is already dead, no one was there with them, and none of the bros expressed any sign that they knew that Noctis was bound to get married after his sacrifice (he sure doesn’t mention it in the final campfire scene and that’d be a better place than any). But anyway, Regis is in the Beyond at Noctis’s side even though he never told Noctis a damn thing and still never spoke to him from within the Ring, but Ravus? Nah, he’s the real asshole somehow and doesn’t deserve any recognition whatsoever.

The only other characters I know of that have a remotely similar dynamic to Noctis, Luna, and Ravus (lovers, but the girl has a straight-edge protective brother working for the bad guys) is Nero, Kyrie, and Credo (see: Devil May Cry), but as much as I think the writing in that series is hokey as fuck, at least the writer(s) for DMCs 4 and 5 had enough sense to make the love story simple and based it from a line from Amagasaki City-- “I love you, so I love the city that you love.”-- and opted against portraying Credo as an outright villain because if Nero killed him, Kyrie would resent him for it even though she knew Credo was working for the same Order that threatened her life. 

Shouldn’t Noctis care about the shit Luna cares about even if he has no personal investment in it or it’s inconvenient to him? Shouldn’t he care about Tenebrae and its prosperity? or about Ravus? Nah, it’s okay, Noctis doesn’t have to respect Luna’s love for her brother or her kingdom because for all intents and purposes, she doesn’t care for Ravus or for Tenebrae as much as she loves Noctis. Her love for Noctis and her looking forward to the wedding is what matters here.

The yaaaas queen vicious clapback from Kingsglaive!Luna about how Ravus is the Empire’s dog is especially rich coming from her when she’s fellating the gods all through the game even though Eos’s equivalent of The Holy Bible says the Hexatheon’s Revelations destroy cities and that undoubtedly means people are killed by the gods, and their summoner is complicit, because there’s no such thing as a perfect evacuation. See: "Revelations left great devastation in their wake, with entire cities being laid to ruin," noted in the Cosmogony long before the True King even exists. 

Luna herself didn’t see a problem with this and helped in the effort, with no regard to the collateral damage she would cause with the summoning: bonus points for the part where Leviathan is hostile to humanity and threatens to eat every living being if Noctis fails! She had even less regard to the damage Niflheim would cause in their attempt to kill the gods even though she was first-hand witness to them sacking Insomnia. Waking and defeating Titan deprived Lestallum of the meteor they derived power from. Waking Leviathan destroyed Altissia. Luna’s refusal to leave Insomnia when told to by Regis led to her being used as bait and taking the whole of the Kingsglaive out of Insomnia in time for their Face Heel Turn and Insomnia being destroyed. Everything else leads to the eventual World of Ruin where people also die. 

All because she killed herself prematurely from the covenants and didn’t hold back the longer nights as she promised to the public’s face and on her honor as Oracle she would do. Her dying words in Chapter 9 were her being completely satisfied with her fate because “[her] prayers were answered, [her] calling fulfilled”, even though the calling requires that she dies and she should’ve known better than anyone that her death, even if it was for Noctis’s ascension, would endanger the rest of the world for 10 years and helped the Starscourge spread. But instead of fighting for her own life to stem the plague for as long as possible, she let herself die under the belief that "Noct can handle this" to give him the chance to be the revered King of Light. She also didn’t make a single appearance on the world of the living in her spirit form during those ten years until Noctis needed help with a piddly imitation of the Magic Wall, only then does she come down in her ghost form with seemingly all of her power intact, and summons five of The Six as if Noctis can’t easily do it himself.

But Ravus is the lapdog? Luna’s the one with her “ends justify the means” behavior and what looks like general neglect for actual human beings.

Anyway, Ravus stabs Caligo in the back and kills him, and that move only makes sense in light of the idea that Caligo was manhandling Luna as seen in the Dawn trailer. Ravus was 16 when Tenebrae was overrun, and there’s no reason to believe he was magically immune to institutional abuse, so there’s a high chance that he was abused by the Empire too, held resentment of that, and waited for the time he’d be able to retaliate with no repercussions. Gentiana as a goddess is 1000000% more on the hook about letting Luna be beaten than Ravus is, since he saw his mother die in front of him while Regis ran away. Regis had the power of the Ring and could have used elemancy to put out that fire, or void magic to banish Glauca and his MT army, didn’t do that, but he totally spares enough magic during the treaty signing to toss around Thunder spells straight from his hand, cast barriers, and summon some Royal Arms straight at Iedolas, and that’s bad enough. Gentiana who’s been the Fleuret family attendant since Luna was born and also is Shiva who can freeze people with her fingertip had even less excuse to let that fire rage, to let Sylva die protecting her son, and to stand by and allow her ward(s) to get thrown around by some random Imperial soldier.

[visionsdiary]

It is tragic. The story. It did not have the outcome one would hope, there is no happily ever after just a story, a moment for a while where they existed, where their worlds collided and then burned in passion, in truth, and eventually ash then nothing.

~

She was to be crowned Queen though every bit of her screamed to run away. To beg on her knees to her mother to give her more time. More time, more experience. She wasn't ready, she couldn't be.

She doesn't have much of a choice, it's to happen in only 3 days, where she will be forced a responsibility she wants nothing to do with. She was indeed every bit of a coward for running, for hopping on her horse and racing through the tall trees of her homeland.

Where seasons are experienced its fullest. Where the mist is thick and the magic thrums through every tree, every rock, and river. She welcomed it the thrumming like drums of the music they'll play at festivals. She let her tears fall freely and her scream ring like thunder spoking all birds nearby.

How is she to run a kingdom? Her kingdom? She has yet to face battle. Yet to make treaties, yet to lead anything in her life, but she is expected to lead a kingdom when she can barely lead a rabbit to a trap.

Or barely see the one she led herself into. It wasn't meant for her in her defense. It was meant for something else, something she only heard about in stories from the sailors, stories from warriors who've traveled farther than the forest she has stuck to most of her life.

A dragon. They had gone extinct or so she was told. She has never seen one up close before. It was in a trap right next to hers tied up in a net that made the creature roar in fear. It was not as big as she thought one would be. It was bigger than her but not by much. Its scales were a pattern of circles, ombre of white and orange with thorns running down its back.

"What do we have here?"

A man caked in leather saunters toward her and the struggling dragon. His face was covered in rags only allowing her to see his eyes, dark and daring. How is she going to explain this one to her parents?

"It seems we've captured a slave," His hand reached through the hold gripping her chin and turning her side to side, "A beauty you are. I'm sure you'll catch a fine price."

Ripping from his hold she reared back and spat in his face.

"Ye might want to re-think this one. My father will tear you to piece."

"Is that right? And who are you?"

"Princess Merida of DunBroch,"

He reared back and laughed. "Looks like we are in the presence of Royalty fellas," Laughter surrounds her on all sides. There were more than she first believed, or maybe the laughter just echoed off the trees. This thought was soon disregarded as men stepped from the treeline one by one. Yep defiantly more.

"I-I'm serious. You wouldn't want a kingdom on you do you?"

"They'll have to find us first." She trembled.

That was only a few months ago and now she sat in this cage, skinny, starved but her fire simmered under the surface. She will escape. She must. The dragon that was trapped with her grumbled, catching the piece of fish Merida snuck from the guards.

She pets her scaly friend, who purred in response. "Don't worry Sylva. We'll get out of here I swear it."

Their cages were right next to each other. An only arm's length away from each other, Sylva was the only friend she had here. An ally she was happy to have. It was night and they still sailed toward the sanctuary as it was called. In other cages many other dragons stayed locked up, barely fed.

Though she felt bad for them it wasn't the time to think of anyone else. She gets her and her friend out first and maybe if she could gather the firepower she'll return and free the rest. The guards light the last of the lanterns, taking their stations around the ship.

"In an hour or so they'll nod off to sleep."

She was only allowed out as entertainment. Her singing is what saved her so far and she served the ones who took her before she was locked up once more but her plan was sent the moment they gave her access to their water and wine.

"I put your venom in their drinks, just enough to put them to sleep, and then we'll be home free." She was hopeful and when the hour had passed she took her sharp piece of metal that broke off from her cage. She had sharpened in the past few months and hoped this would work.

She picked at the lock, jiggling it side to side, up and down until she heard a click and the cage door squeaked open. She celebrated dancing and jumping with silent whispers of triumph. She then went to unlock her dragon's cage when she heard a noise.

She paused, pressing herself against the other side of the cage, and watched as a man wielding a flaming sword crept by the cages of the dragons. He was covered in what she assumed was armor, a fabric she's never seen before. His hand rose and made signals to no one she could see.

She watched in wonder as they let out the dragons and they flew off. She backed away as the man got closer to her dragon's cage hitting a stray bowl. It rolled, tumbled down some stairs alerting the man. He sneaked past the cage and she looked around for any weapon.

Her eyes landed on one of the spears they used on the dragons and picked it up. It was heavier than she thought but it didn't matter she needs to fight.

"D-Don't ye come any closer."

He paused for a moment, his sword still drawn and still on fire. She wondered what she must look like. Dirty, torn, and starved. Disgusting. It made her confidence waiver, her mother would have thrown a fit if she was here, appearance is part of ruling she'd say.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"I heard that before" She shuddered at the memory. Truly men were vile pigs taking what they wanted without a care in the world.

"Chief!" Someone whispered.

He held out a hand stopping his companions in their tracks.

Though she'd never admitted it she trembled, once again outnumbered, and wondered if this group could be any less dangerous than the one she'd been sailing with. He stabbed the sword into the ground, the fire remains just on the sword.

'Does he have magic?' She wandered. If he did then it made sense why he stop the others. He doesn't need them to kill her.

She swung the spear in a warning. "I swear if ye come any closer, I'll cut ya."

He puts his hands up in surrender for a moment she thought he mocked her but he raised them higher to his helmet. He took it off and she was met with green eyes.

He was tall, slender. His auburn hair swayed and she could see the braids in the back. She looked down at his leg and saw that he was missing one, or half of one. It reminded her of her father. Her father. Tears weld up in her eyes. She's going home even if it means getting past this stranger.

Resolve hardened she didn't let the tears spill though she was sure he could see them.

"Hey," His voice was soft as if he was trying to tame a wild animal. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

"You can't promise me that nor will I believe it." She looks around for an escape. She could swim, take their boat since they must have come from somewhere. Then they will have to deal with this pack of beasts instead of her. Or- Sylva.

She looked to the sky wondering if her friend left, she was no longer in her cage. His friends made sure of that but she's still unable to spot them in the sky.

"Hiccup, we have to hurry." One perked up. Merida looked to her right where one of them was sleeping only feet away, he began to stir and grumble. His friend was right.

"We can't just leave her here." He whispered back.

He turned back to Merida. "Come with us. I promise we'll take you home." He held his hand out. An offering, an extension. More men started to stir, waking up and realizing they'd been robbed.

"Hey!" One shouted. They were found out.

Them or him. She looked back up to the sky and whistled. Nothing. Her chest squeezed at the betrayal but she understood all the same. She looked back to the green eye man and sighed.

"Don't touch me." She warned before hitting the guard that ran after her. He flew overboard screaming as he fell into the water.

The man grabbed his sword putting back on his mask.

With them, she fled and it was that decision that started the sewing of their story.

Their tragedy.

[fly-sky-high-bug-games]

Ayee quick mecha steed design that is currently important for the AU~

Ignyad’s new creation, also powered by the crystals from Crystal mines but shhh, no one has to know they’re from there~

Because Highgrove relies on living breathing large flying bugs to get around, Ignyad invented these so others can move around when ever they wish and have them long lasting, basically replacing bug power with a machine.

Not like anyone in White Magnolia was impressed enough to use it, since everyone (but Sylva and Yonna) had their ways of getting around... but then Yonna took interest and got to experience the amazing sense of flight again!

Now Sylva and Yonna are escaping on one :3c

[fuzzhugs]

Cycle - Redwall Midwinter Gift Exchange 2020-2021

Made as part of the @redwall-midwinter-gift-exchange. A gift for @autobot-scout-riella.

               “Exactly how far north are we?” Dandin asked Mariel as he shivered against the cold wind blowing in from the sea. “I think my blood is about to freeze.”

               The Pearl Queen had made ground along the sandy shores of the far Northlands. Together with Bowly Pintips, the three warriors had been sailing for nearly a season since leaving Mossflower, traveling wherever the wind took them, stopping at whatever island or stretch of mainland took their fancy.

               None of them had any great experience sailing, and after floundering around for several days, they came across a group of sea otters who had spotted their vessel in distress. A dozen of the younger otters, keen to explore the oceans, joined Mariel, Dandin, and Bowly, bringing their knowledge of the ocean wind and waves, helping ensure the vessel didn’t sink or run aground.

               Mariel responded to Dandin’s complaint by throwing another cloak at him. “I didn’t realize sailing around the tropics had made you soft.”

               “I’m not soft, I just prefer having feeling in my footpaws.”

               “Better wrap ‘em up then. We’re gonna be staying until we’ve resupplied.”

               “Assuming we can find anything edible in a place this cold.”

               “That’s why you and I are going to go scout around.”

               “Abandoning ship, mateys?” Bowly Pintips came up to them.

               “We’re going to go see if we can find food for the stores,” Mariel informed him.

               “What about me? Just supposed to stay here and sit on my paws?”

               Bowly was young and often stubborn. Mariel saw a lot of her younger self in him. Though he had been reliable in the past, he was not highly experienced in foraging or wayfinding on land, so Mariel found him another task to do.

               “Help the otters set up a camp along the shore. We’ll probably be staying here a number of days. Keep the tents on the windward side of the Pearl Queen. We’ll stay a bit warmer that way. Scrounge for driftwood as firewood too. We’re going to need to keep a fire going.”

               Bowly gave an exaggerated salute and marched off to issue orders to the otters, Mariel and Dandin fighting to stifle their giggles over his comically serious demeanor.

               Before leaving the ship, both Mariel and Dandin bundled up against the cold, wearing multiple layers and wrapping up their footpaws in strips of cloth. With practiced skill, they shimmied down the ropes and landed on the beach, marching along the cold, wet sand.

               As the beach transitioned into plains, the ground became hard. The dirt itself was frozen. The otters had spoken of lands where there was no summer and the earth was permanently frosted over. Dandin found the idea of a land without summer hard to believe, but Mariel, after everything she had seen in her life, found there was very little that was impossible.

               While the two mice wandered, they found a few bushes that managed to grow despite the cold. The berries produced by the bushes were bitter, but edible. Mariel noted their location and began making plans to send a foraging party to gather them later.

               A short time later, Dandin stopped and squinted into the distance. “I think I see a pair of trees up ahead. On top of that hill.”

               Mariel stood beside him and squinted as well. They had not yet seen any other trees along the plain, so it would be strange to see any standing alone in the middle of nowhere. Nevertheless, there they were. Atop a distant hill, two of the oddest-looking trees Mariel had ever seen. The trunks curved upward in an unusual fashion and the branches that she could see were bare of leaves.

               “They look dead,” Mariel said.

               “I still want to have a look,” Dandin replied. “We’ll be able to see for miles if we make the climb.”

               Mariel nodded, and the two mice set off toward their new destination.

               The hill was covered in a layer of thick, brown grass, coated with a thin layer of frost like much of the rest of the landscape. Shortly after beginning their ascent, Mariel and Dandin began to notice there was something odd about the hill.

               “This grass is strange,” Mariel told Dandin, running her paw up and down the wiry strands. “It doesn’t feel like a plant.”

               “And have you noticed that the ground feels softer and warmer than on the plain? Do you think we should leave?”

               “I’m not afraid of a hill. I’m going to the top.” Mariel continued toward the trees near the summit. Not wanting to be left behind, Dandin hurried after her.

               “What manner of trees are these?” Mariel wondered aloud as she felt the trunks. “No bark, no twigs, no sign of any buds. This doesn’t feel like wood, it’s more like…bone.”

               “Let me feel,” Dandin stepped forward and rapped his paw firmly against the strange tree.

               The ground began to rumble and shake, and the hill seemed to sway from side to side. Both Mariel and Dandin were forced to hang on to the tree in order to stay upright.

               “What did you do?!”Mariel shouted as the rumbling intensified.

               “I didn’t do anything!” Dandin shouted back as he clung to the tree with his eyes shut tight.

               Mariel glanced over the crest of the hill to see if it was collapsing, only to see the ground was getting farther and farther away. They were rising into the air.

               “Dandin,” Mariel said, her voice nearly a whisper, “this isn’t a hill.”

               “What do you mean this isn’t a hill?” Dandin said, still clinging to the tree.

               “It’s not a hill, it’s a creature. Some enormous creature.”

               The rumbling and movement stopped as the creature held still. Now that it was upright, Mariel could tell that she and Dandin were standing directly on top of its head, which was higher from the ground than the roof of the Abbey.  The creature stood on four legs ending in hooves. Mariel opened her mouth to speak when a booming voice rang out from beneath them.

               “K’to tam naverk’hu?”

               Mariel’s ears rang. This creature was louder than even her father’s bell that now hung back at Redwall. Whatever the creature was saying, she didn’t understand it.

               “Ch’to tii delayesh ‘s moyey golovoy?” the creature spoke again, just as loud as the first time.

               To the side, there was what Mariel took to be an ear. She yelled at it as loud as possible. “I’m sorry! I don’t understand you! We don’t mean you any harm!”

               “Ah, small-folk,” the creature said, now speaking more quietly. It lowered its head to the ground and Mariel and Dandin scurried off. “What are you doing upon my head?”

               “We thought you were a hill,” Dandin explained. “We were going to climb those…trees on you head to look around the plain. We’ve never seen a creature like you before.”

               “My antlers. My people are called ‘deer.’ You small ones are not from around here, I am thinking.”

               “We are travelers. Our apologies for disturbing you.”

               “It is no matter. It is time for me to rejoin my herd.”

               “Your… herd?”

               “My kind travels in groups. For safety. For companionship.”

               “Can we see?” Mariel asked, ever interested in seeing new things.

               The deer lowered his head and Mariel eagerly climbed back on. Dandin followed more cautiously.

               “You never told us your name,” Mariel called down toward the deer’s ear.

               “Rufus,” the deer said. “I am called Rufus.”

               Every step Rufus took was jarring, but the mice could tell that the deer was moving slowly and trying to step gently. He brought them over hills and waded through what would have been an impassable river to creatures of Mariel’s and Dandin’s size. Rufus came to a stop above a broad valley, and Mariel and Dandin were breathless at what they saw.

               The valley was filled with others of Rufus’ kind. Some had antlers, others did not. The sea of reddish-brown fur seemed to sway and flow like the ocean. The number of deer before them was uncountable. Steam rose from the valley floor out of great pits in the ground, further obscuring the true size of the herd in a thick fog.

               “Even in winter, this valley is kept warm by the heat from the earth,” Rufus said, “but we often must leave to find foraging ground.”

               “Why not live further south?” Dandin asked. “It is warmer there, and there are plenty of good things to eat.”

               “I did once wander far to the south. I have seen your forests. While their beauty is clear, they are not suitable for a herd of deer. The trees would crowd us in and keep us from running.”

               “Running?” Mariel questioned.

               “We are not the only creatures of this cold and barren land. There are others. The wolves hunt us down and consume us.”

               The thought of one creature eating another sickened Mariel. Eating a fish was one thing, but even among vermin, only the worst would consume the flesh of another.

               Now in the midst of the herd, Rufus stopped as another deer stepped up to him. They rubbed their muzzles together in some form of greeting.

               “My mate, Sylva,” Rufus said, introducing the female of his kind.

               “Privet malysh’ki. Dobro pozhalovat’ v’ nashu dolinu,” the deer said in her own tongue.

               Sylva does not speak your language,” Rufus said to Mariel and Dandin, “but she welcomes you to our home.”

               “How is it that you speak as we do?” Mariel asked.

               “I was once as I imagine you are. A traveler. An explorer. I wandered a great distance from the herd, eager to see the world. I saw many great things and learned much on my travels, but I eventually realized I had wandered enough, and I returned to my home. Perhaps one day you will feel the same and return to where you came from.”

               “I don’t think we’ll ever tire of traveling and exploring,” Mariel said.

               “Maybe so. At the time, I desired to return to Sylva,” Rufus nuzzled his mate affectionately, “but I see you travel with your mate. Perhaps this will be enough for you.”

               “We’re not,” Mariel started to say while Dandin shifted his paws awkwardly, but a loud bellowing interrupted her and echoed across the valley. Every deer perked up its ears and spun its head in the direction of the call.

               Before Mariel or Dandin could ask about the noise, Rufus had spun around and began to run alongside Sylva. Neither mouse had ever traveled at such speed. As the wind rushed by, Mariel and Dandin clung to Rufus’ antlers, fighting to maintain their position as Rufus bounded along, adding to the thunderous rumbling of countless hooves pounding the earth.

               As the entire herd ran, Mariel glimpsed grey figures running near the edge of the herd, driving the deer one way and then another as they fought to escape.

               “Rufus, what’s happening?” Mariel shouted, trying to make herself heard over the din.

               “Wolves,” Rufus gasped as he panted. “The hunters. The killers.”

               As the herd ran on, the mice managed to see the wolves more clearly. They ran on all fours like the deer. Ears back and fangs showing, saliva dripping down their sharp teeth the wolves looked like monsters.

               Within minutes, the deer had crossed a distance that would have taken the mice most of the day, but still the wolves pursued.

               There was a scream of pain, and as quickly as the chase began, it ended. The wolves swarmed around a fallen deer and began their carnage, ignoring all of the other deer as they ate.

               The herd continued to run for several more minutes before all the deer halted their retreat and settled on a new stretch of grassland. Rufus was panting heavily, his breath steaming out of his mouth and nostrils. On his head, Mariel and Dandin were likewise breathing heavily, their hearts pounding and limbs trembling.

               “Are you small ones injured?” Rufus asked once he had regained his breath.

               Dandin helped Mariel to her feet. “We’re fine, Rufus. How long until the wolves come again?”

               “They will not hunt again for several days,” Rufus said casually. “They have made their kill and will be satisfied for some time.”

               “I’m sorry for your loss,” Mariel said. “Did you know the one who…fell?”

               “No, but his sacrifice will be remembered.”

               “Sacrifice?” Mariel asked, confused.

               “One dies, the rest of the herd survives. This is the way it has always been.”

               Mariel was shocked at Rufus’ seemingly callous to the loss of his comrade. “How can you say that? Those wolves are monsters!”

               “They require food just as any other creature. They must consume meat in order to survive.”

               “And why must their survival cost your people their lives!?”

               “It would be far worse for us if the wolves did not chase us. If they did not take from us, our numbers would grow until we had consumed all of the plants in the land, and then we would all slowly starve to death, as would all the other creatures who call this land home. The chase ensures that we are strong enough to endure the harshness of the north. The old and inured who would otherwise perish painfully are given the dignity of a quick death. The death of one allows the herd to survive. Likewise, we encourage the wolves to be strong. If we did not run, the wolves would become fat and indolent. They would die as soon as hardship took hold. It is all necessary. The land needs us. The land needs the wolves. The wolves need us. We need the wolves.”

               Mariel scowled, unhappy with Rufus’ explanation. “There must be another way.”

               “What do you suggest? My kind do not have the clever paws to farm the land as you small folk do, nor are the wolves  able to catch fish. While our way may seem unpleasant to you, it is nonetheless our way, and we must continue in it if we are to survive. Come, I will take you back to where we met.”

               Rufus crossed the valley with the mice riding along. The wolves were still gathered around the fallen deer. Mariel made to look away when she saw the smallest of wolves nearby, running around and playing with each other as they stumbled on their inexperienced paws.

               “Though they will grow to chase us done,” Rufus said, “I can still see value in their existence. Do the pups not deserve a chance to grow and thrive?”

               Mariel did not answer. She was through arguing with Rufus. She remained silent until they reached the spot where they had mistaken Rufus for a hill. She gave him a cordial farewell, though she remained fuming inside. On the way back to the ship, Mariel and Dandin stopped to gather some of the berries they had spotted before.

               Back at camp, the others were thoroughly impressed by the story Mariel and Dandin told them. Bowly was jealous that he hadn’t been along to meet Rufus. Mariel let Dandin do most of the telling as she warmed herself by the driftwood fire, staring into the flames as she regarded the northlands. She could not understand the casual way Rufus accepted the death of his fellow deer. Living and dying based on chance seemed an awful way to exist. Even as the fire died and everybody went off to sleep, the thoughts continued to run through Mariel’s mind until she too drifted off into slumber.

               The next day, Mariel went off on her own, searching for other sources of food besides the bitter berries they had found the day before. She had wandered to the south where the grass was taller, hoping to find something edible hidden between the tall, leafy blades.

               Late in the morning, Mariel’s ears caught the sound of some creature in distress. With a high jump, she was able to see over the grass into the distance where a pair of ravens were swooping down, harassing some creature who Mariel could not see. Pushing through the grass, Mariel made a beeline toward the ravens, getting her Gullwhacker ready to deliver a painful lesson to the disagreeable birds.

               She came out of the grass swinging, delivering a solid blow to the skull of one of the ravens in mid-swoop. The birds gave a harsh cry and switched their attention to Mariel, diving toward her with talons outstretched.

               With a whirlwind of blows, Mariel pummeled the birds with the knotted Gullwhacker, striking at the wings, heads, and beaks until they understood that their time would be better spent elsewhere.

               Pushing through the rest of the grass, she came to where the raven’s victim lay. Mariel came to a sudden stop when she saw what it was. It was one of the wolves, but a young one. Though it was only a pup, it still stood as tall as a young badger. It was covered in scratches from the ravens’ talons, but it seemed unperturbed by its injuries now that the birds were gone. Its attention was now fully focused on Mariel.

               Before Mariel could decide whether or not to run, the wolf shoved its face toward her a made a series of loud sniffs before it drew its tongue up the length of her body, leaving her clothes and fur slightly damp from its saliva.

               “You’re welcome,” Mariel said, shaking herself dry. “I’ll just be going now.”

               As Mariel turned to leave, she was suddenly lifted from the ground. The pup had grabbed the back of her cloak and was carrying her away, trotting along without a care in the world. Mariel thrashed about, trying to free herself, but the pup’s grip was too tight and Mariel was too small to have much of an impact on the pup’s behavior.

               The pup continued carrying Mariel over several miles as she hung helplessly in its grasp. She had tried reasoning with the wolf, but either it did not understand her or did not care to listen to her, so Mariel waited, biding her time until she had an opportunity to run, though she had serious doubts that she would be able to outrun even this little wolf.

               When they reached a clearing, Mariel spotted a fully grown wolf with several other pups nearby. When the adult saw the pup carrying Mariel, she bounded over and began to speak to the pup.

               “Nikolas, ya zhe skazal tebe ne ukhodit. K’to eto? Chto vii nadelali?”

               Though Mariel did not understand the words, she recognized the tone. At Redwall, she had heard Mother Mellus use the same sort of voice when scolding the dibbuns. Whatever this pup had done had evidently displeased its mother.

               The pup responded, dropping Mariel as it did so, but its answer was more of a series of barks than an actual language. Nonetheless, the mother understood her pup and turned her eyes down toward Mariel.

               “Tii ranen, malen’kiy?” the wolf asked, waiting for Mariel to talk.

               “Sorry I…I don’t understand,” Mariel responded, fighting to remain calm while facing down the giant monster. “I don’t know your language.”

               The wolf straightened up and closed her eyes for a few moments. “I speak…small tongue…little. Son say you… save son. This wolf… thanks you. My name… Sveta.” Sveta sniffed the air and looked back down at Mariel. “No need… fear. No harm you.” Sveta sniffed again. “You been with deer.”

               “I met them yesterday,” Mariel said, finding her voice. “I saw them being hunted.”

               Sveta nodded. “I not there. Hunters bring food… for mothers with pups.” She gave Mariel an appraising look. “I am feeling… you do not like this.”

               “It is cruel,” Mariel said, unafraid to speak her mind. “Killing other creatures and… eating them,” she shuddered in disgust.

               “Cruel to let pups eat?” Sveta asked. “Wolves no fish. No catch bird. No eat grass. Better to let pups die?”

               “There must be another way. Some way for both deer and wolf to exist without all this killing.”

               “You not first to think this. Grandfather Urgan try to abandon hunt. Leave pack. Not seen again.”

               Mariel’s ears perked up at the name but she kept silent.

               “Wolves not forget what deer give up. Come with Sveta. Sveta show you way of wolf.”

               Sveta knelt down and allowed Mariel to climb atop her head. She barked something at her pups and led them out of the clearing along a trail which wound up into the hillside. The path took them to the bottom of a cliff that had undergone a rockslide at some point in the ancient past. Resting among the rocks and boulders were hundreds of deer skulls, some with antlers, other without. They were all perfectly aligned, obviously placed with care and purpose.

               “Wolves not forget,” Sveta stated firmly. She stepped forward and brushed her face against one of the skulls an in almost intimate gesture. “Every moon pack visit memory hill. Remember prey. Thank prey,” she dug at a pile of dried vegetation, “bring offering to prey. Prey not only food. Prey are life. Life of pups. Life of wolves. Life of pack. Disrespect to prey, disrespect to pack. No kill without need. Punishment for wasting life high. Cherish life of prey. Cherish own life. Even pups know this.”

               Mariel looked and saw that Sveta’s pups were walking up to skulls and imitating their mother’s gesture. Mariel had not seen any devotion to life this deep anywhere outside of Redwall, and though its form here was strange, it was not unrecognizable.

               “The deer know of this?” Mariel asked.

               “Deer know well. Deer know value. All have place in cycle. It is way. Small mouse understand?”

               “I understand better than I did, but it is still difficult to grasp.”

               “Small mouse need time to think,” Sveta proposed. “Sveta bring back to plains.”

               Sveta gathered her pups and took them all back down the hills and through the clearing to where Mariel had fought the ravens. Sveta knelt down once again and let Mariel slide off her head and onto the ground.

               “Thank mouse once again. Pup precious to Sveta and pack. Sveta remember mouse well.”

               “Thank you, Sveta,” Mariel said. “I hope your pups grow up strong.”

               Sveta nodded and called to her pups. Within moments, they were off, darting through the wilderness, no doubt going to rejoin their pack.

               Dandin was visibly relieved when Mariel returned to the campsite. She had been gone much longer than she had intended, and with giant creatures roaming the land, it was no wonder he had been worried. Mariel didn’t say much, but sat by the fire, thinking about the way of life of the deer and the wolves.

               “This is a strange land, Dandin,” Mariel said, “but perhaps not as strange as we first thought.”

[uwmspeccoll]

Feathursday: The Avian Avatars of Special Collections

Sarah the Brant

In the past two weeks we bid farewell to our two graduating graduate interns Katie Stollenwerk and Morgan Ellsworth with posts about them and their Avian Avatars, This week we highlight our continuing graduate intern Sarah Finn and her assigned bird, the exquisite Brant or Brent Goose (Branta bernicla).

Much like her namesake, Sarah is relatively quiet, maintains an elegant bearing, and often appears in shades of black, white, and shimmering golden browns. Sarah began her career here in Special Collections in the summer of 2017 after taking Max’s course in the History of Books and Printing. She started as an undergraduate assistant for a year, and after graduating with a degree in History, she enrolled as a graduate student in UWM’s coordinated Master’s programs in History and Information Studies. With her enrollment, her status in Special Collections transitioned into a graduate internship, and she is currently our Senior Graduate Intern and serves on our leadership team.

Besides her academic interests, Sarah maintains very strong interests in art (as both a researcher and a maker), science and scientific illustration, and the decorative arts. Her role here includes patron services, classroom instruction, catalog verification, LibGuides, and collection maintenance, but her most lasting contribution to the department has been in social media. Sarah founded and single-handedly maintains our Instagram account (which is currently the most popular of our social media platforms, with nearly 15,000 followers), and runs many of our most popular Tumblr series. She ably took over our Flora and Sylva and Fine Press Friday series, and founded Science Saturday and perhaps our most popular series, Decorative Sunday. 

As a testament to her dedication, despite all student employment being temporarily suspended during the coronavirus pandemic, Sarah continues to volunteer her time to maintain our Instagram account and produce weekly Tumblr posts. Thank you, Sarah!! Of her experience in Special Collections,Sarah writes:

This past May marks my third year working in UWM Special Collections and I cannot emphasize enough what a profound impact it has had on me as a person and the type of librarian I want to be in my career. I was introduced to Special Collections as an undergraduate student in a history research methods course, and was intrigued by the chalk board in the reading room with the words “INFOST 603 History of Books and Printing.” Even though it was a graduate level course I ended up signing up for it the next semester in Spring 2017 (and later took it again as a graduate student in Fall 2019). That class, taught by head of Special Collections Max Yela, taught me to think in “book history” and my life has not been the same since. 

Books and printed materials are an amazing source of historical evidence and their meaning goes far beyond their written contents. They are a physical representation of humanity’s relationship to itself. This thinking is fundamental to the way Special Collections approaches outreach and patron services, which is about making meaningful connections with people. Max has always stressed the importance of having fun with your work. This creates an incredibly dynamic work environment, where experimentation and trying new things is encouraged. I have been inspired by Max, department manager Alice, and all my fellow student staff. On a personal level, working in Special Collections has influenced my love for natural history and scientific illustration, as well as fine press printing. It opened me up to opportunities to go to the Hamilton Wood Type & Printing Museum’s annual Wayzgoose celebration, to take a class at the California Rare Book School, and inspired me to pursue many classes in letterpress, bookbinding, and printmaking. My favorite part of working in Special Collections are the class visits and doing everything I can to share these amazing resources with the broader community.

And we are privileged to have you aboard, Sarah! The goose images are hand-painted prints of two subspecies of Brant, the Pale-bellied Brant (B. b. hrota) and the Black Brant (B. b. nigricans), from Rex Brasher’s massive, limited-edition, 12-volume set Birds and Trees of North America, self-published in Kent, Connecticut, between 1929 and 1932, containing thousands of hand-colored reproductions of Brasher’s paintings.

View more UWM Special Collections Avian Avatars!

View more hand-painted prints by Rex Brasher.

View more Feathursday posts.

[silkcnsteel]

｡* ‧ ☾ whoa wait was that SHAWN MENDES? no, that is DANTE SYLVAS and they are employed at the prison as TEACHER. they’re 24 years old, and seem pretty fit for that job. hopefully they can handle it in the prison because some people have said they’re PERCEPTIVE, STRONG-WILLED a lot of the time, but if you ask me they seem to be VAIN, CONTEMPTUOUS.

This young man earned his degree in environmental studies, focusing on conservation ecology, from the University of California Santa Barbara after a grueling five years at school. He was in the middle of working on his master’s, but was missing the requisite field experience. Finding work in any relevant fields immediately after was, naturally nowadays, extremely difficult right off the bat. But after an unusual stroke of luck, he wound up applying and being interviewed for a position teaching environmental literacy, policies, history, and human impact. 

Honestly he had no desire to be a teacher, especially when he initially heard where exactly he would be teaching. But he’d be damned if he turned down something that paid that well, even if they were evidently eager enough to hire someone as fresh-faced as himself. Besides, the idea of helping people in need better understand their involvement with the world and potentially even earn green jobs was a sweet idea.

He loves to cook. Nothing makes him prouder than creating something wonderful in both appearance and taste. He was always a bit of a stickler for pretty things, and is secretly a bit of a romantic at heart; though only because he sees it as something he’ll never have. He also likes to sing - but he sucks.

Not afraid to speak his mind, but always maintains an air of someone with a secret. First impressions may portray him exactly how he sees fit, and that’s usually as a friendly, smiling, almost warm personality - though usually this just means he wants something from someone. In reality, he is much more quiet and cold, and would really only prefer to spend his time doing things or with people he deems acceptable.

[secret-engima]

Spoiler Snippet of Worlds Unseen (Calling You and Me) Chap 10

(I have literally no self control. Then again I’ve been sitting on this for literal months so maybe I have a little but it’s gone now so here we go. MAJOR SPOILERS for Worlds Unseen verse so pls, if you read, come screech at me, if you don’t want spoilers, then don’t click the read more. Assuming the read more works this time. Also this is ... LONG. Long snippet. Very spoilery snippet. You have been warned.)

...

     Luna walked slowly toward Drautos, the Ring of the Lucii pinched between two fingers while her other hand hovered near it. Nyx was hissing at her to run, to not be an idiot, but Bast could already see her plan in her grave, sorrowful eyes. She was going to put herself between them and the biggest threat —Drautos— and then she was going to put on the Ring.

     She was going to die for them.

     No.

     Not again. He’d already lost a mother, he’d already lost a father. He wasn’t losing Luna too.

     Bast waited until she was passing by, less than three steps away from him and less than ten from Drautos’s outstretched hand. Then he lunged, snatching her wrist with one hand and ripping the Ring from her fingers with the other. He could hear the guns coming to bear and the crack of bullets leaving chambers, could see Drautos’s sword coming up and over to cleave Bast in two. He didn’t care.

     He put on the Ring and the world turned blue.

     Everything slowed to less than a crawl. He spun in place, drinking in the surreal experience of seeing bullets inch through the air, slower than worms in a spring frost. He could see Drautos’s sword coming for his head, so slow he could have probably run a lap around the entire city before it came close to the ground. He could see Luna’s face twisting into terrified, heartbroken realization, so slow her expression was still mostly shock. Nyx was reaching for him, hand only a few inches from his side and splinted leg pushing him forward mere centimeters. Libertus was pulling Crowe toward the ground, one crutch hovering in the air as gravity took its sweet time dragging it earthward.

     Bast took a deep breath and looked back at Luna. Even though she probably couldn’t hear —maybe especially because she couldn’t hear— he whispered, “I love you, Luna, and I’m so sorry.”

     Then he straightened, a ward-prince before an audience and a glaive at attention, “Kings and Queens of Lucis, grant me audience.”

     The world around him vanished save the pavement directly beneath his feet. Luna, Nyx, Libertus, Crowe, everyone else disappeared from his sight. The air rippled with power-time-judgement, so strong he felt like he would drown in it. Then, like towering, burning silhouettes of ancient memory and timeless magic, they appeared. He could only see thirteen of them, arrayed around him like enormous pillars of judgement-power-who-dares. But he could feel the rest lurking in the darkness. A hundred generations of Ring-bearing rulers, all of them watching. Waiting.

     Judging.

     “You call upon the Wardens of this world’s future Mortal,” rumbled the first of them —Mystic, Founder King, oldest of the Ring—, “and if you come lusting for our power, you must first stand in our judgement.”

     Bast wanted to fold beneath the weight of magic pressing in on all sides, he wanted to scream and cry, crumble to dust if it meant escaping the painful, searing weight of power that was waiting for the slightest excuse to burn him alive. But he didn’t. He forced his knees to lock and his back to stay straight, made his voice remain steady as he looked up into their helmeted faces and made his plea, “It is true that I come for your magic, but not for my sake. Hear me, Kings and Queens of the Lucii! The Oracle stands in mortal peril and the Ring is inches from the enemy’s grasp! The Chosen King wanders the world unknowing of the danger and at risk of losing she who is to guide him and forge the Covenants in his name!” The magic curled closer, squeezed his lungs and Bast shuddered, fought for air and kept going, “Please. Please, I ask not for my sake. I ask for Luna, for Noctis, for Regis, for the world. Summon your Old Wall! Grant me the strength to see Luna to safety beyond Insomnia’s borders before it is too late!”

     The weight doubled, then tripled, and Bast collapsed to his hands and knees with a helpless wheeze under the weight of ancient contempt, “You presume to judge what time is ripe for our power? To presume our favor? Yours is not even royal blood. Your soul is not even of our star.” Not of … what?

     Magic like forests and old stones emerged from the ocean around him, cutting off his spinning thoughts as it curled around him like gentle hands on his shoulders. Bast’s head snapped around to face one helmet in particular as another king spoke, “Wait,” said Regis-not-Regis-but-his-memory-and-that-was-close-enough, “I know this soul. I watched him as he grew and taught him as he matured. I have seen what he is capable of. He too, seeks to safeguard the future. He too has sworn an oath to see the Chosen’s destiny through.”

     “Father,” wheezed Bast past the spinning pressure in his head.

     Regis —not Regis, memories of his magic preserved and given form as a warrior king, as the Father— did not respond, said nothing to Bast as the Mystic rumbled, “Very well, young king. We will weigh your ward-son’s worth.” The Mystic’s attention fell on Bast again, “But our boon does not come cheap. The cost … is a life.” The blackness around them curled away, revealing Nyx reaching for him, three bullets aimed for his heart and getting slowly but steadily closer. Behind him were Libertus and Crowe, Crowe almost to the relative safety of the ground, Libertus above her like a living shield against the hail of bullets coming for them, the hail that might miss, or might instead tear Libertus apart. The choice being offered was clear. Nyx or Libertus? Who would Bast sacrifice for the greater good? Who would he sentence to death in exchange for power?

     “Choose, Mortal,” intoned one of the other kings —the Fierce? It looked like the Fierce’s statue— “who’s life will you sacrifice for our power?”

     Perhaps if Bast had truly been royal blood, he could have chosen between them. Perhaps if he had been a real prince, he would have been able to swallow his guilt and make the sacrifice —like Regis had done to him, like Regis had done to all of Insomnia—. But Bast was not, and anger dragged air into his lungs and forced his back straight even though he was still on his knees, “No. No.”

     “You desire our power but refuse to pay our price?” Growled the Conqueror scathingly.

     Fury gave him strength to bare his teeth, “I will not bargain with that which I do not possess! You ask me what price I will pay for your power and then you command me to sell the life of a comrade? How is that just?”

     The magic around him rippled with disapproval, “A good king,” thundered the Mystic, “knows that sacrifice is necessary for the greater good.”

     “Oh, go throw yourself on Ifrit’s pyre!” Bast worked one leg underneath him in the startled silence that fell at his words, “I will not force others to bear my price when I am the one that seeks your boon!” He worked his other leg into place, shook like a leaf under the strain as he forced himself to stand. Wheezing and shivering, he tilted his chin in defiance, flicked his hand to banish the images of Nyx and Libertus and Crowe, “I … swore an oath … to protect Noctis, no matter what. But that … does not entail sacrificing others so that I might survive. That does not mean I will sacrifice Luna, or Nyx, or anyone else who has no part of my oath and whose lives are not mine to give.”

     Bast flexed his hands into fists to keep from falling as the magic around him grew even heavier somehow, “You’re right,” he choked out in a whisper, “I’m not royal blood, and I would not make a good king. A good king knows the value of sacrifice, of choosing who dies so that victory might be won. But,” Bast forced his voice to steady, pushed it out of his chest until it was strong again, “a true king protects his people above all. Even at the cost of himself. Like Regis, who held the Wall for years even as the strain killed him. Who held back the enemy long enough for Luna and Nyx to make their initial escape. Maybe he was a good king because he sacrificed Insomnia, sacrificed me, to save the Chosen King. But he … was a true king every time he sacrificed himself for the people he ruled.”

     Bast forced his head higher, made himself look into the glowing slits of the Mystic’s helmet, “I am Bast, ward-son of Queen-Oracle Sylva Nox Fleuret and King Regis Lucis Caelum. I am not of royal blood. I have no armies to command, nor magic to call my own. I have no kingdom or soldiers or wisdom or power to give you. But if a life is what you require for your aid, then I offer mine. Do with it as you please, just ensure the safety of my companions … of Luna. They are of dutiful heart, I know they will see your Ring to safety.”

     The silence lasted an eternity, and Bast closed his eyes as he waited for his fate. Then, from amid the circle of the Lucii nearest him, someone barked a laugh, “Well,” rumbled the Rogue —it had to be the Rogue, the voice was female—, “it would seem the Fulgarian chose wisely after all.” The … Fulgarian? Ramuh? What does she mean?

     “Agreed,” said another female voice, much lower in pitch, but also softer, “there is a spark in this one that even some of royal blood have struggled to match.” Magic curled around Bast, nudging aside the smothering weight, pushing it away like a shield and letting him breathe properly at last, “The Just supports his claim.”

     The shadows rippled, almost like a feminine laughter, and magic settled like cold steel in one hand, “Too long has it been since a mortal willing to give of himself before others has come to us for aid. The Rogue supports his claim.”

     The magic of the Father, still draped on his shoulders like hands, shifted, like fingers giving a comforting squeeze, “He is my ward-son, and I have seen the lengths to which he will go to fulfill an oath. The Father supports his claim.”

     From the left, a shivering ring of steel and a soft male voice that sounded more like a bard’s than a king’s, “He shows intelligence beyond his years, to know the differences between kings. The Clever supports his claim.”

     “The Fulgarian has never been mistaken in such matters before,” declared another from the right, “The Pious supports his claim.”

     One by one, in bits and pieces and the shifting of magic so that it buoyed him up rather than tried to crush him down, the Lucii granted favor. The Warrior, the Fierce, the Wanderer, the Oracle. Kings and queens in the shadows behind them that Bast could not see and gave titles he had never heard in history —the Vigilant, the Scholar,  the Silent, the Bard, the Seer, so many titles lost to time well before he was born—. Finally, silence fell, and Bast’s eyes drifted to the Mystic, the only one who had not yet cast his vote.

     The Mystic seemed to stare into him and not just at him, old magic like storm clouds and oceans seething with some kind of anger and sadness and old memory before it settled, “You are far too much like my brother,” and though that was clearly a complaint, the ancient king almost sounded fond —brother? What brother? The history books said nothing of the Mystic having a brother—, “but you have earned the favor of the others. Very well ward-son of the Father. The Mystic will support your claim.”

     Bast gasped, then screamed as the magic all around turned and burrowed into his body, carving out new channels inside him for it to flow-burn-rage-heal. It coated every nerve and filled every available gap, then carved out more room when that did not prove enough. Over the agony of what felt like being burned alive from the inside, Bast heard the Lucii chorus, “Rise, Bast, ward-son of the Oracle-Queen and the Father. We name you Oathkeeper, guardian of the Chosen King and his Oracle. Our power is yours to wield and gift as you please until the time when the Chosen’s destiny is fulfilled. Your life is forfeit to this cause, and for this cause will you remain until such a time as dawn purifies the world.”

     The other Lucii fell silent as the power in Bast’s skin-blood-bones-soul began to settle, and the Mystic slammed his sword against the ground like an earthquake, “But know this, Oathkeeper. You are not welcome on this star, and when your oath has been fulfilled, your soul will no longer be allowed to linger here. You and any who share your blood will be cast out from the sight of our star to return whence you came.”

     Cast … cast out? Not welcome on this star? Did they mean … his soul would be destroyed once Noctis fulfilled his destiny? Or did they mean something else? He didn’t understand. Anymore than he had understood the Mystic’s earlier comment about Bast’s soul not being “of their star”. It was a terrifying prospect. That he would only live until Noctis fulfilled his destiny and then be … something. Cast out or destroyed or thrown away into some void as the price for power.

     But having this power meant Luna would live. It meant that he would be able to save Nyx and Libertus and Crowe, he would be able to help Noctis and keep him safe —keep his promise—. It meant he would have the power to help what was left of the only people he knew as family.

     “You drive a hard bargain,” Bast muttered sarcastically as he wrapped mental fingers tight around the heartbeat of power coiled inside him. He raised his head and grinned, bright and bold and wild like he had been taught —like Nyx did when he was fully intent of showing up some idiot that managed to make him angry, like Gladio when he was going to show up a rookie with too big an ego—, “where do I sign?”

[pixylate-archive2020]

I've written about Valerie's backstory before, but I'm gonna more so talk about her parents in this, maybe repeat some already revealed information as a reminder for old and new followers. 

Anything in here that contradicts anything I’ve previously said takes precedence; consider the old information retconned:

Valerie's mother, Cadence, used to be a wealthy woman working in fashion in Kalos. However, she lost everything when she made a deal with a fae and deliberately chose to not fulfill her end of the deal. Such arrogance lead to her fleeing from Kalos in an attempt to escape the fae, and going to Johto, where she met Valerie's father: Tobias.

Tobias worked for Silph Co., and as such was constantly away from Ecruteak and in other places in Johto, or in Kanto. Even after he and Cadence got married, he couldn't ever get time off to be around her more, but he always tried to make it up to her whenever he could come home.

Valeria was born some months into their marriage. On the night she was brought home from the hospital, is when the fae Cadence wronged crept into their home and took the newborn from her crib. She left her own child in Valeria's stead, who looked identical to the baby, excluding one small detail: her eyes sparkled and glowed like two precious gemstones.

The next morning, Tobias believed the entity in his daughter's crib was his daughter. How her eyes changed a little was questionable, but it didn't bother him too much. Cadence on the other hand, immediately realized what had happened, because the baby's eyes were just like the ones of the creatures she loathed. Her baby girl was gone, and a changeling now took her place, lying innocently in her crib as if it was actually hers. Cadence was furious.

However, Cadence never told her husband the truth. She was afraid he'd divorce her and leave, seeing as she was the reason why his real daughter was taken away by the fae. She didn't want to lose the only ray of light still left in her life. Even so, that didn't stop her from taking her anguish and anger out on her new fae child.

Valerie was abused in at least some fashion every day, from that point since. Cadence didn't be more severe with it until Valerie knew how to walk and Tobias was away from home again. Cadence made it clear since Valerie's infancy that she cared very little for her, and in fact hated her existence altogether. She was a burden to her, a pest she would ditch on a street corner or do away with if she could. She made sure to engrave this into little Valerie's mind.

She desired to mentally scar her fae child, and succeeded to say the least. When the time came that 13 year old Valerie left Johto with Tobias to her old region, Cadence didn't bother saying goodbye. She was thrilled that after 13 years Valerie was finally out of her life now, and she could focus on trying to locate her true daughter; if it was even possible.

Tobias was left with the shell of a young girl. Sometime after they got settled into their rented home, Valerie left on a "pokemon journey", wanting to become a trainer. Tobias allowed her, knowing that Valerie was extremely dejected and has been for a long time, unnaturally long for someone her age. He hoped traveling across Kalos and enriching her life with positive experiences with pokemon would help her be happier.

Around a month later, he realized that perhaps he not being too much in her life could help too. Valerie called him from a public phone in Santalune City and told him she was doing fine; Sylva was in good health and she had already caught a Flabebe and Ralts. She dropped a bomb on him though, by stating that she probably wasn't going to be calling him much anymore. She didn't want to talk to him. 

The tone she used, and how he could clearly hear she trying to hold in tears, were more than enough to tell Tobias that he's failed her as a father. He didn't try to argue with her, or demand she come home. He only wished her the best, and only asked her to send him a message of some sort occasionally so he knows she's still alive, but it was up to her in the end. This was the last verbal exchange Valerie had with him.

Valerie went off on a path to not only become a phenomenal trainer, but to become a Gym Leader Kalos was proud to call one of their own. Unknown to her, some developments had happened between her parents during the years:

Tobias eventually moved back to Ecruteak City, where tension rose to a boiling point when he asked how exactly Cadence had been treating Valerie since her toddler days. She kept up the charade that she believed she treated her well, like any good mother would, but Tobias never bought it. One night, when Cadence got a little too drunk and let how she abused Valerie slip, Tobias was adamant on getting a divorce right then. He frankly wanted to put his hands on her, but he was a smart man; he knew that wouldn't end well for him.

In the end, when Valerie was in her early twenties, they both went their separate ways. Cadence kept the house in Ecruteak, and Tobias moved to Saffron City since Silph Co. made it easy for him. Tobias ( rightfully ) believed Cadence was the reason why Valerie didn't want him in her life, and while he perfectly understood that...there was a part deep inside him that felt a little hurt in return. He didn't know his ex-wife was the cause of her suffering, and he thought it was unfair for Valerie to group him in with her. Alas, there wasn't anything he could do regardless.

Cadence on the other hand became fully committed to finding her real daughter, seeing as there wasn't much of anything tying her down now. She had nothing left to lose. She made the decision to go back to Kalos, back to the place she first encountered that fae, and see if it would lead anywhere. She told some associates and other people in Ecruteak that she was going on a vacation to the Hoenn region as a cover up story.

Yet, Cadence disappeared without a trace shortly after touching down in Kalos. It has been years since, and her old acquaintances in Ecruteak find it strange that Cadence hasn't returned from her "vacation", but they suspect Cadence chose to move to Hoenn. Her house was obtained by Ecruteak’s government and offered up for sale. Tobias was made aware of her absence, but he hates the woman now, so he isn't concerned about what actually happened to her.

[persephonesfill]

My OCs: TYatD

@anarchscry you asked for this very long post so you’ve made your bed, now lay in it. (jk jk i love you)

Osanna Gaza, 17 (on the verge of 18), She, Her, Hers. Osanna is the eldest child of Ivon Gaza (who is a fucking BITCH) and Adelina Gaza (who has never done anything wrong in her life ever). Osanna is the princess of Astoria (one of the kingdoms I created) but she’s not the heir to the throne since Astoria doesn’t practice equal primogeniture. She’s not bitter at all. Really. She has long golden blonde hair, dark blue eyes, tall, lithe stature and fair skin that tans easily (yes that’s relevant to the plot). Osanna is prone to bouts of jealousy and pettiness, especially when she doesn’t get her way. She’s headstrong and as stubborn as an ox, much to her father’s chagrin. It’s a struggle for him to get his daughter to do anything he wants. She isn’t all bad though. Osanna would do anything for her family, especially for her youngest brother, Eden, and isn’t one to balk at confrontation. Osanna is smart, resourceful, and ambitious. All she wants is to be recognized for her mind, which is her greatest strength, and she spends the majority of my book trying to get that recognition. She’s also bi as fuck 🌈🌈 I’m putting the rest under a read more bc holy fuck this got long 

Lani Neda, 17 (on the verge of 18), She, Her, Hers. Lani was orphaned at a very young age. Her parents were found mauled to death in her family home after they refused to let her leave home to attend the school meant for spellcasters secreted away in the mountains of Maras (another kingdom I created). Coincidentally, the caster who came to visit was also the one to pull her from the orphanage and take her to Magai (the school/city for casters) anyway. Totally not related at all. Lani was basically a child soldier, trained in magic, combat, and espionage, and only concerned with protecting the royal family of Maras, especially princess Mai, who’s her closest friend. Lani had short, dark, curling hair, brown skin, and eyes so brown that they appear black. She’s short but well-muscled from her training (and reliable palace meals). Not every orphan is as lucky.  Even when she's not aware of it, Lani carries herself like a soldier; back straight, firm stance and arms at her sides ready to salute or unsheathe her weapon at a moment's notice. Lani is quick on her feet, abrasive, and not the easiest person to get to know. All her life she's had her weaknesses exploited and vowed to never show weakness again. She's intuitive and relies more on instinct rather than logic. She's loyal to a fault and can be absolutely ruthless in battle, holding nothing back. Lani is brave and willing to fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. She's serious and seldom jokes around with others. She hates when people don't apply themselves or give up prematurely. She always gives it her all and expects everyone else to do the same. She values hard work, tenacity, and strength. She’s also gay as fuck (for Mai and later Osanna) 🌈🌈.

Aidan Aterra, 18, He, Him, His. Aidan, like Lani, is also an orphan, except he never knew his parents. His caretaker at the orphanage, Dame Mara Finch, or Dead-Eyes as the children called her behind her back for her pale grey eyes, said that he had been left out on the porch of the Foxbrook orphanage in the middle of one the worst blizzards Iskald (another kingdom) had ever seen. His lips had been bluer than death, his skin cold to the touch. She told him that she had contemplated leaving him outside and letting nature continue to run its course but as soon as she had turned around to close the door, the most ghastly wail had burst forth from his lips. He grew up in the orphanage constantly being reminded of her kindness and her generosity, even when he went to bed without supper, or was forced to sleep in the manor’s old dungeons when he misbehaved. When Aidan was ten, he had decided enough was enough and that he was going to run away from the orphanage, making it as far as to the marketplace of their town. Aidan tried to pickpocket a mercenary and ended up following him home instead. The mercenary, and his mercenary company, the Fox Claws, took him in and Aidan was raised in their life of killing, thieving, and the occasional case of vigilante justice. Normally, Aidan is a fun-loving and spontaneous boy who isn’t one to shy away from a party or conversation (only with people he’s let in).  He’s also observant, a trait that has saved his life more times than he can count. However, in extreme situations of distress, such as his childhood at the orphanage and his life after Asher’s disappearance, Aidan withdraws on himself. He’s more prone to risky behavior and uncaring about his wellbeing. He feels a growing numbness inside of his chest and wonders why he should even bother doing anything at all. He also experiences intense regret and self-loathing. He’ll never tell anyone though. Lord knows Dead-Eyes didn’t like criers. All Aidan’s life, he's been met with derision and prejudice due to him being an orphan and likely a bastard. His personality is a result of that. He's sarcastic. Evasive. Shuttered. He puts on a devil-may-care facade to keep others out. Although he can be selfless and kind around children, Aidan is usually self-concerned. He rarely thinks about the consequences of his actions. Some view him as brave for all of the dangerous situations he welcomes with open hands. Others think he's just plain stupid and has a death wish. Aidan always likes to jape that it's a little bit of both. Aidan has black hair that touches the tips of his ears, and strange eyes for an Iskali, who all typically have blue or gray eyes. Aidan's eyes are hazel. Not quite brown. Not quite green. That paired with the olive cast to his skin tone makes him an outsider among the Iskali. After the disappearance and suspected death of his best friend and partner in crime, for which he is the main suspect, all Aidan wants to die is fuck off from the main continent and drink his way into an early grave so he can be with his best friend, Asher, again. He’s also pan as fuck 🌈🌈

Kali Sylva, 16, She, Her, Hers. Kali is the daughter of Alwin Sylva and Tiatha Meimri, and the crown princess of Dererra (another kingdom. you get the idea). Kali is also the sole heir to the throne, due to her being the only child of Alwin and Tiatha. Her very existence is a bit controversial, at least in Dererra. Dererrans are extremely traditional (read: pretentious, prejudiced fucks) and expected for Alwin to marry a Dererran noblewoman. Instead, he married Tiatha, a Khosagho (another kingdom) native. Princess Kali Sylva is a walking contradiction. Quiet, yet opinionated. Shy, yet brave. Sweet, yet fierce. Kali has little confidence in herself and often thinks the worst of others—mainly because they assume the worst of her. Half-breed, they call her. Part Dererran, part Khosaghi. Kali is straightforward and doesn’t much care for silver-tongued folk. She likes to keep to herself and more often than not, prefers the company of animals over humans. She struggles with being from two different worlds and doesn’t feel as if she belongs anywhere. Around friends, Kali can let loose and be herself, and even be playful. With strangers, Kali is reserved and keeps to herself in fear of being reprimanded. Kali is prone to reading into something too much and jumping to conclusions. The only time she feels at peace with herself is when she’s in woodlands of her home with her bow in her hands. Part of her feels as if she doesn’t deserve the throne due to the years of scorn and derision she’s been faced with from other Dererrans. Kali has jet black hair, done in one of the traditional Khosaghi styles, with it being in long, uniform braids. She has smooth dark brown skin, and her father’s bright green eyes. Kali has broad shoulders and strong arms from years of firing a bow and elegant, high cheekbones. 

Cyd Pollock, 15 going on 16, He, Him, His. Cyd is the son of Myra, an innkeeper, and Cyrus Pollock, privateer turned full-blown pirate. For nine years of his life, Cyd never knew his father. It was just him, his mother, and their roadside inn, The Dirty Wolf, and that was all they needed. Everything was fine until a wave of influenza swept through western Masae and his mother, Myra, had fallen ill. Two weeks later, she passed away. Cyd was only nine. His father showed up a week later, stricken by grief, he took in his only son and raised him in the company of pirates, thieves, and murderers. Ever since then, Cyd has had to watch his back. He never knew what his father was like before the death of his mother. He’s only ever known a hard man who was impossible to please. The slightest toe out of line, and Cyd was subjected to cruel and unusual punishment. He learned to keep his mouth shut, don’t ask questions about his father’s “business” and to keep to himself. Cyd keeps to himself. As long as he asks no questions, as long as he doesn’t mouth off, he’s safe. Sometimes in particularly emotional moments he loses control and has a slip of the tongue; a witty comment here, a sarcastic barb there, and he takes the consequences every time. Cyd is very insecure and can’t help but care what people think about him, especially his father and his pirate crew. He hates how much he craves their approval but relishes the rare moments where he’s bestowed with praise. He’s smart though. Smarter than people give him credit. All the years he’s sat in silence, he’s picked up a few tricks from those around him. When he puts his mind to it, he can complete any task with accuracy and fervor. Cyd has wavy sandy hair that falls into his dark brown eyes. Cyd has fair skin and his body is speckled with freckles from spending hours upon hours out in the sun. He has rough, calloused hands from years of pulling and tying sailing ropes and hauling heavy cargo. He has many scars, most along his hands and wrist, although there is one particular scar below his bottom lip from where he had gotten a fish hook stuck in his face as a child. Cyd is relatively short, standing at about 5’9. He hasn’t yet hit his growth spurt. The last vestiges of youth are starting to fade though. The baby fat in his face is starting to melt away and revealing the shadow of a strong jaw. 

[kinda-nerdy]

Inktober Dragon Age Inquisition Prompt #1

Prompt #1: The Inquisitor

Also @the-solavellan-archive pre-relationship prompt 2

Solas POV of their First Meeting

Another corrupted spirit slashed at him and his heart was filled with despair. How had his plans come to this? How many spirits would have to die for his mistake? Despair or not, he couldn’t allow himself to be injured now. The woman, the Dalish, with his power in her hand, showed no signs of ever waking again.

His attempts to reclaim the power were for naught, as were his attempts to seal these rifts without the power. It was time to go before the human Seeker decided to kill him for his inability to do anything, as she had threatened.

Just as he made that decision, two more corrupted spirits targeted him. Cursing under his breath, he froze one, turning to the other just in time to see it seize as lightning traveled through it. At the same time he heard the Seeker’s battle-cry as she stormed into the battle. Quickly dispatching the stunned “demon” in front of him, and hoping against hope that the mage the Seeker had brought was the Dalish, he turned toward his other still-frozen opponent, just in time for Master Tethras to put a bolt through it, shattering it.

Looking around, slightly desperately, he quickly located the Dalish who bore the mark of his power. Grabbing her hand he pulled her to the rift, shouting, “Quickly, before more come through!” Holding his breath he crossed his fingers that this worked. If it didn’t, all hope was lost. But it did! The moment her hand was raised to the rift it connected, and as she wrenched her hand away from the rift and out of his grip, the rift closed.

She started at her hand for a moment, then looked up at him. “What did you do?” she asked him.

Hearing her voice and looking into her eyes for the first time he felt… he wasn’t sure what he felt. Her voice was melodious and lilting, but quiet and almost…unsure? Her eyes, which had remained closed while he had treated her, were a deep forest green. They took on an almost eerie glow in the light of the Breach. Her hair, which he had thought to be brown, was showing new color in the light of day, or what light could come through the obstruction of the Breach. The presumed brown hair was actually a dark auburn color.

It was only his centuries of experience that allowed him to keep his thoughts behind a calm facade as he answered, “I did nothing. The credit is yours.” He briefly wondered how she’d react to such a claim – would she gladly take all the credit, or…

“I closed that thing?” She asked incredulously. “How?”

Pleased that she’d both tentatively trusted his answer, and questioned how, a sign of an inquisitive mind, he replied, “Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake – and it seems I was correct.” He allowed a little pride to seep into his tone at the end to make it seem like he hadn’t been mostly sure that it would work.

Before she could answer him, however, Seeker Cassandra butted in. “Meaning it could close the Breach itself.”

Stifling his unwarranted irritation, given that his conversation with the Dalish hadn’t been private, he replied, “Possibly.” Turning back to her he said, “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

Her face passed quickly from terror to resignation to resolve, but before she could say anything in response Varric spoke.

“Good to know! Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever,” he said. Solas pondered his irritation at such interruptions. He wouldn’t usually mind, but he seemed to crave her responses, her voice which seemed to capture him.

As Varric walked up to her to introduce himself, he heard her say under her breath (quietly enough that if he had been an average elf he wouldn’t have heard her), “Whose ass? ‘Cause yours isn’t all that far off the ground…”

He stifled a chuckle as Varric said, “Varric Tethras, rogue, storyteller, and, occasionally, unwelcome tagalong,” he added, winking at Cassandra who scowled at him in response.

“Lovely to meet you, Varric,” the Dalish woman replied politely.

He had to refrain from rolling his eyes, thinking of all the meaningless chatter and complaining the child-of-the-stone was capable of and said, “You may reconsider that stance in time.”

“Awww,” Varric said, feigning hurt. “I’m sure we’ll become great friends in the valley, Chuckles.”

“Absolutely not!” The seeker cut in. “Your help is appreciated, Varric, but…”

“Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker?” Varric said, cutting Cassandra off. Brave man. “Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore. You need me.”

The seeker made a very disgusted noise, but seemed to accept the argument.

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions,” he said, turning his attention back to the Dalish. “I am pleased to see you still live.”

Varric scoffed. “He means ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept’,” Varric asserted.

Solas looked away for a second, knowing that he’d done very little. When he looked back the Dalish was staring at him. “Thank you, for that,” she said simply, then added, “You seem to know quite a bit about it…?”

Before he could reply the Seeker interrupted again. Solas had to grit his teeth for a second to keep up his act of “humble apostate”.

“Like you, Solas is an apostate,” Cassandra said, unnecessarily in Solas’ opinion. His status as a mage should be fairly obvious.

“Technically, Seeker, all mages are now ‘apostates’,” he told her calmly. Turning back to the person he really wanted to be speaking to he said, “My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage. I came to offer whatever help I could with the Breach, for if it is not closed we are all doomed, regardless of origin.” He gave her a sad smile and ducked his head, adding, “And you should only thank me if we manage to close the Breach without killing you in the process.” Before Cassandra could interrupt, again, he turned to her and said, “You should know, the magic involved here is unlike any I have ever seen.  Your prisoner is a mage, yet I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.” At least in this Fadeless world, he added in thought.

“Understood,” Cassandra said. “We must get to the forward camp quickly.”

“Well Bianca’s excited!” Varric inserted.

Everyone had started moving toward the path forward, but at his comment the Dalish paused. “Bianca?”

“Yea!” Varric replied, caressing his crossbow. “Ain’t she beautiful? Bianca and I have been through a lot together.”

“You… named your crossbow Bianca?” she asked, bemused.

“Of course. Speaking of names, I didn’t catch yours…?” Varric probed.

“Oh, it’s Rilla. Idrilla Sylvas,” she replied easily.

He gave her an interested look. Little rebel and freedom’s breath… he thought, I wonder how she got those names? Did she choose them, or were they gifted to her, I wonder? And every other Dalish he’d met had included an “of Clan ____” in their introduction. Combined with her skin-colored, barely visible Vallaslin, perhaps she wasn’t so Dalish as he’d thought.