#VERSE: longing to travel like roaming clouds.

[fanflames]

okay! i wrote out my extended canon verse for anybody who is not visiting/living on one of the xianzhou alliance's ships. it's updated on my carrd but i will be pasting it down here for everybody's convenience. the verse currently focuses on belobog since it's the only other planet in-game but it will expand the trailblazers land on new worlds.

VERSE: longing to travel like roaming clouds. this verse serves as a sort of extended canon for tingyun to allow her to go outside of the xianzhou alliance and visit planets like jarilo-vi and future in-game worlds. this verse will be updated as worlds are added to the game. any writing placed after the events of xianzhou or on another planet will be placed here by default unless otherwise stated. as an amicassador for the whistling flames, tingyun is frequently visiting new planets to strike up trade deals and alliances. as such, this gives her a lot of flexibility to be anywhere at anytime. after the stellaron crisis in the xianzhou alliance is resolved, the ports are opened back up and she continues her business as usual. after recieving news that jarilo-vi was tentatively considering opening up galactic commerce after their own stellaron crisis was resolved, the sky-faring commission quickly took it upon themselves to set up a forum with the recovering planet. as yukong's most trusted representative, tingyun is sent to negotiate trade options with belobogian officials. during this time frame, she makes multiple visits to the planet to establish relations. more will be added as new worlds are revealed. anything in herta's space station or the astral express will likely be lumped into here unless otherwise stated. non-au crossovers will probably also be lumped into this verse as well since it would generally be treated as a trade mission or visit for tingyun.

[stormblessed95]

🌊Percabeth🦉 & ☀️Solangelo🌟

The Riordan Verse has a new book coming out that's focused solely on Nico and Will! Which I couldn't be more thrilled and excited about! It's called "The Sun and The Star" and I'm sooo ready for it. Like completely. And so I'm my excitement, I'm making a post dedicated to my 2 favorite Riordan Verse ships, Percabeth and Solangelo, because they are amazing 😍

Starting with Nico and Will, because it's their book that's coming out soon! They are the epitome of the golden retriever puppy and black cat trope. Lol i love it. And i fully anticipate and plan to add to this with quotes/moments between them that I love from the new book too. Also I'd hope it wouldn't need to be said, but spoilers for all PJO books from this point on, just to be on the safe side. If you don't want possible spoilers, don't read further!

"Nico,” I said at last, “shouldn’t you be sitting at the Hades table?”He shrugged. “Technically, yes. But if I sit alone at my table, strange things happen. Cracks open in the floor. Zombies crawl out and start roaming around. It’s a mood disorder. I can’t control it. That’s what I told Chiron.“And is it true?” I asked.Nico smiled thinly. “I have a note from my doctor.” Will raised his hand. “I’m his doctor.” “Chiron decided it wasn’t worth arguing about,” Nico said. “As long as I sit at a table with other people, like…oh, these guys for instance…the zombies stay away. Everybody’s happier.” Will nodded serenely. “It’s the strangest thing. Not that Nico would ever misuse his powers to get what he wants.” “Of course not,” Nico agreed."

"At this point, you may be wondering how I felt seeing my son with Nico di Angelo. I’ll admit I did not understand Will’s attraction to a child of Hades, but if the dark foreboding type was what made Will happy… Oh perhaps some of you are wondering how I felt seeing him with a boyfriend rather than a girlfriend. If that’s the case, please. We gods are not hung up about such things."

Art by Cloud!

“In the meantime, no one should roam the camp alone. Use the buddy system.” “Understood! Nico, will you be my buddy?” “You’re a dork.” The two of them strolled off bickering"

“I apologize for my boyfriend.” “Could you not-?” “Oh I’m sorry, would you prefer special guy? Or significant other?” “More like significant annoyance in your case.”

“I’m guessing that was a Star Wars reference. My boyfriend is a Star Wars geek of the worst kind.” “Okay, signor Mythomagic, if you’d just watch the original trilogy with me-"

“Ladies and gentlemen, my glow-in-the-dark boyfriend.” “Could you not?!”

“NOBODY KILLS MY DAD AND NOBODY HITS MY BOYFRIEND!”

"You guys go," Will told me, "The chariot is only designed for three and after that shadow travel, Nico is going to pass out any second." "No I'm not," Nico complained, then passed out. Will caught him in a fireman's carry and took him away. "Good luck! I'm going to get the Lord of Darkness some Gatorade!"

Art by @/tamaytka on Instagram

I'm 1000% reserving a spot here for new quotes from the new book for Solangelo that I will edit in after it releases. Lol and no, im not sorry. They are everything each other need 😍😍

Percabeth have so many moments. Their relationship is so cute and so much fun! I could honestly talk about it all the time and they clearly love each other so much. The epitome of childhood friends to Lovers with so much bickering happening lol

"I imagined she was going to say, You killed a Minotaur! or Wow, you're so awesome! or something like that. Instead she said, "You drool when you sleep."

"Before I could lose my courage, I said, "Don't I get a kiss for luck? It's kind of a tradition, right?" I figured she would punch me. Instead, she drew her knife and stared at the army marching toward us. "Come back alive, Seaweed Brain. Then, we'll see."

"Percy smiled at her - that sarcastic troublemaker smile that had annoyed her for years but eventually had become endearing. His sea-green eyes were as gorgeous as she remembered. His dark hair was swept to one side, like he'd just come from a walk on the beach. He looked even better than he had six months ago - tanner and taller, leaner and more muscular.Percy threw his arms around her. They kissed and for a moment nothing else mattered. An asteroid could have hit the planet and wiped out all life, and Annabeth wouldn't have cared."

"Annabeth's voice caught on the word friend. Percy was a lot more than that. Even boyfriend really didn't cover it. They'd been through so much together, at this point Percy was part of her--a sometimes annoying part, sure, but definitely a part she could not live without."

"Percy pulled Annabeth close and kissed her...long enough for it to get really awkward for Piper, though she said nothing."

"Very slowly, using only two fingers, Annabeth drew her dagger. Instead of dropping it, she tossed it as far as she could into the water. Octavian made a squeaking sound. “What was that for? I didn’t say toss it! That could’ve been evidence. Or spoils of war! You other two…” He pointed his blade at Hazel and Piper. “Put your weapons on the dock. No funny bus—” All around the Romans, Charleston Harbor erupted like a Las Vegas fountain putting on a show. When the wall of seawater subsided, the three Romans were in the bay, spluttering and frantically trying to stay afloat in their armor. Percy stood on the dock, holding Annabeth’s dagger. “You dropped this,” he said, totally poker-faced. Annabeth threw her arms around him. “I love you!” “Guys,” Hazel interrupted. She had a little smile on her face. “We need to hurry."

"You promised, Seaweed Brain. We would not get separated! Ever again!" “You’re impossible!” “Love you too!"

"And it was the best underwater kiss of all time"

"We’re staying together’ he promised ‘you’re not getting away from me. Never again" Only then did she understand what would happen. A one way trip. A very hard fall. ‘As long as we’re together’ she said."

"Once she was gone, I knelt next to Annabeth and felt her forehead. She was still burning up. "You're cute when you're worried," she muttered. "Your eyebrows get all scrunched together." "You are not going to die while I owe you a favor," I said. "Why did you take that knife?" "You would've done the same for me." It was true. I guess we both knew it. Still, I felt like somebody was poking my heart with a cold metal rod."

"She put her hand on my spine, and my skin tingled. I moved her fingers to the one spot that grounded me to my mortal life. A thousand volts of electricity seemed to arc through my body."

 “Annabeth ran in right behind him, and I’ll admit my heart did a little relay race in my chest when I saw her. It’s not that she tried to look good. We’d been doing so many combat missions lately, she hardly brushed her curly blond hair anymore, and she didn’t care what clothes she was wearing - usually the same old orange camp T-shirt and jeans, and once in a while her bronze armor. Her eyes were stormy gray. Most of the time we couldn’t get through a conversation without trying to strangle each other. Still, just seeing her made me feel fuzzy in the head."

"The world was ending and the only thing that really mattered was that she was alive"

They gave up immortality for each other, Annabeth was the only person/thing Percy remembered when Hera wiped his memory and he forgot everything else, even who he was, they fell into Hell for each other, literally. Annabeth was who Percy thought of to keep him tethered to life. Annabeth jumped in front of a knife for Percy. I mean honestly. I love them so much. And I love seeing snippets of them through others eyes in the later book series too.

I'm doing a Riordan Verse reread binge soon because both a TV show and a new book will be coming soon and my heart is soooo happy! These were some of my favorite books when I was younger snd they mostly still hold up as amazing even now!

[aelleyon]

verses.

general main. aelleyon is a small business owner. the main store is a cute little bakery which she works with a few other employees. the basement, however, is a magical library filled with tomes and treasures. this basement is a separate dimension and can only be entered through a single portal which aelleyon manages. you can try to gain access calling upon aelleyon and asking.

bg3. aelleyon is a party companion which can be found in act1 or act2. aelleyon appears as a druid however going further you find through withers that aelleyon is more. she can't join your party but she will aid you but preforming ritual spells like longstrider and speak with animals - this will be applied to all party members. you can also gain her blessing which will allow you to cast aelleyon's darkness - a cloud of darkness that only you and the party can see through in a radius of 65ft.

elden ring. aelleyon is a half monster creature which will aid the tarnished as long as they keep on the path of the stars. though aelleyon doesn't know ranni well, the cryptid has been in the lands between for many many centuries and chooses to side with the witch.

league of legends. half monster with unknown origins roams runeterra selling strange and unusual magical items. while traveling she is also doing quests for anyone who might trade her in spells - any spells, doesn't matter as long as it's new.

[vibin-vibingo]

Posting some personal character interpretations of the RT Miitopia gang because I don't know what else to do with them for now and if I don't talk about them it will drive me crazy.

(Or phrased differently: Taking the Miitopia streams way too seriously and trying to come up with ✨cool✨ character backstories)

(I don't really have any ideas for Bean, Goofy and Barrackula so they're being left aside for now)

I Want Die: An esteemed royal scientist who became immortal after one of his experiments backfired. Unable to find a way to reverse his condition, he retired and disappeared for decades until accidentally becoming involved in the fight against the Dark Lord. Although reluctant at first, he ended up leading a ten-person party against the Darker Lord and ultimately saved Miitopia.

Chat: An ever-growing conglomerate of souls, stitched together by an ancient spell. They used to roam the land as an amorphous purple cloud until getting their hands on a magical mask, which allowed them to take on a human shape (as long as their body remained completely covered). Wherever Chat goes, they attract wandering spirits and absorb them into their being.

Cupcake: A Kemono crossbreed between a Cat and a Sheep, Cupcake is a very proud warrior. Although she used to feel insecure about being a hybrid, she has since learned to harness abilities from both of her halves to better her combat skills. After having already slain every monster around her village for several miles, she rushed to join I Want Die's party to quench her thirst for adventure.

Gilbert: No one really knows where Gilbert comes from and the little imp won't tell, but according to Dread he's most likely a child who lost his way in cursed ruins, only to be returned as a minor demon. His mischievous behavior means he has a hard time fitting in with humans, so he joined I Want Die's party to find companions (and, if possible, a family).

Dread: A plant-folk cleric adopted and raised by humans since he was a seedling. While he was taught a human lifestyle and human magic his family also encouraged him to learn about different species, including plant-folks, so he is well-versed in all the different cultures of Miitopia. Although of a nervous disposition, he is also very kind and patient with everyone he meets.

Jefferson: A nomadic Kemono, Jefferson is already used to journeying alone despite his young age- but would much rather travel with some friends. He joined I Want Die's party for this reason and gets along really well with Gilbert. He also loves learning about the world and is constantly asking questions to the older team members.

Magical John: A human raised by plant-folk elders of the Flower tribe. As he believes to be a plant-folk himself he behaves exactly as Flowers do, without realizing this can make him appear very creepy to other humans. He also doesn't understand much about human culture and often relies on Dread to explain things to him.

[marmolady]

Back to Reality: What Came Next (N*SFW)

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Main Pairings: Estela x (f)MC

Summary: Rourke Ending. Taking up where 'Back to Reality' left off. Taylor and Estela have had a rough old day in the Rourke-verse, and take comfort in one another... in a way they haven't done since their world was a very different place.

Word Count: 1824

Warnings: Smut. I've not written anything as smutty as this before, so probably also need to stick in a warning here about potentially not-great smut. But hey, gotta start somewhere! Very N*SFW.

Chronology: Directly following on from 'Back to Reality'. Read that one first! Or, well... skip to this one if you're just here for the sexy-times.

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @greengroove @mauvecatfic

Estela reached behind Taylor’s neck, her movements slow, deliberate, as she travelled downwards. She felt the curve of shoulder blades, arching into Taylor’s upper back. The skin so soft, unblemished. She paused over the clasp of the bra, her eyes flickering to her love’s face. Is this all right?

A second pair of hands guided her, and the garment fell. Eyes dark with desire, Estela couldn’t look away. Her hands roamed to Taylor’s breasts, thumbs tracing over nipples which stood firm at her caress. The sensation beneath her fingertips was electrifying.

“…Estela…” Taylor breathed. If only she knew how much she’d missed her touch.

“God, Taylor, you’re beautiful.” Estela’s voice was a low growl at her wife’s throat. And then she kissed, working over the delicate neck and jawline, feeling her own urgent need growing with the pooling of heat at her core.

Taylor’s heart thundered in her ears as she felt a nip at the base of her neck.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” she asked, even as a soft moan escaped her.

Without stopping to look up, Estela continued her fervent trail of kisses, her hands roaming down her lover’s body. “Shhhh… Taylor, put your hands on me. I need to feel you.”

How could she argue? Taylor’s fingers dug into that strong, scarred back as she responded to the breathtaking touch, and she caught a smirk on Estela’s face as she glanced up momentarily. She kissed down into the valley of her wife’s breasts as she reached behind to unhook the bra --unwanted and most certainly getting in the way. As the bra fell aside, she took a nipple in her mouth, teasing it with suckling kisses and grazing with her teeth.

Estela exhaled sharply, momentarily too dizzied to keep going. Taylor took the opportunity to tug her down onto the bed, leaning against her, mouth and one hand working over Estela’s chest, while the other traced a path down, down, then slipping into her underwear. Another gasp from Estela as she squirmed beneath her.

“… you’re getting a little full of yourself…” Estela hissed.

“I’m sorry, do you want me to stop?”

“Don’t you dare…”

Taylor resumed the stroking of her fingers over Estela’s wet folds, responding to a needy whimper.

“More.” Estela bucked her hips against her wife’s hand, and moaned with sweet relief as those talented fingers at last found her clit. “Taylor…” She tipped her wife’s chin with a trembling hand, forcing eye contact, then grasped a fistful of blonde hair, anchoring their bodies in place. But all too soon, her lover was pulling away.

“--hang on--” Taylor muttered, and she extricated herself just enough to fumblingly take care of both pairs of underwear, clothing she’d deemed to be nothing but a hindrance.

Estela’s gaze was intense, fiery in her hunger. “You’re just so fucking perfect…” She grasped Taylor’s ass and tugged her onto her. She just had to feel her… every goddamn inch.

“…You…” Taylor buried her face once more in her wife’s chest, slathering messy kisses to those humble breasts, sliding downwards until her mouth was working against an exquisitely toned stomach. Oh, how those muscles quivered beneath her kiss… “Estela, you are a goddess…

Leaning deliciously close to her lover, Taylor kept eye contact as she stroked a finger over Estela’s entrance, inciting an exhilarated shudder that shook them both. Carefully, she eased in a finger, then two, crooking them so that they pressed against the sensitive spot with every pump in and out. Her thumb resumed a swirling dance around the small nub, and Estela gave a trembling moan. Strong fingers clawed into Taylor’s back with every moment; it hurt, but it felt so good.

With a loud, shuddering exhale, Estela found her release, holding Taylor ever tighter as she writhed through waves of bliss. Slowly, she regained her breath and sank into the mattress, still seeing stars.

“Joder….”

With a light-headed giggle of self-satisfaction, Taylor pushed herself up so that she could properly admire the happily flushed face of the woman she adored. How she’d missed this. This bit especially. The look on Estela’s face… as though she were floating on a cloud.

“I love you,” she breathed, and eased herself back down, Estela’s hand now idly, lovingly tracing swirls over her shoulder, making her heart flutter and skin tingle. “My starlight.”

Once again, they were kissing. Slow and deliberate, catching one another’s moans as they trembled against their lips.  Estela’s arms around her, their legs tangling, Taylor let herself to be rolled onto her side; held and caressed and kissed as if there were not another damn thing in the world that mattered. Just that moment between them. Taylor’s eyes scrunched closed, prickling with tears. She’d waited a long and lonely time to kiss Estela like this… to be kissed back, so loved.

“Oh, querida, it’s okay…. Shh, shhhh….” Fingers cradling her wife’s face, Estela laid kisses up Taylor’s cheek to her forehead, where she lingered. “I’m yours now. And you’re mine. I’ve got you now.”

A tear rolled down Taylor’s cheek onto the duvet. Goddammit, why now? That lump in her throat was getting bigger…. “God, ‘Stel…. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I know, I know….” Estela murmured. Her breath shook, then she spoke fiercely. “And I’ll fight ‘til my last breath to make sure you never have to miss me again.”

Taylor spluttered out a few sobs, and hugged Estela all the tighter. She shivered. The hell were we thinking? You put on the heater, and then you go for naked sexy time. She supposed that coming in from outside, this was considered relatively warm when they’d first trudged in. A chatter of her wife’s teeth against her cheek made her laugh-- and then choke on her tears, and then laugh some more.

“You wanna take this under the covers, my dearest love?”

“P-please.”

Estela cocooned herself in with Taylor, hoisting the blankets up around their faces. “When we live in San Trobida, there will be none of this fucking cold. And we can be naked together all the time if we wish, without getting frost-bitten tetas.”

Taylor snorted. “Oh, babe. That’s the dream.” She hummed contentedly, the sadness of what had been fading in the soft glow of what was. This was now. Estela was holding her, and they were warm and safe. She let out a long exhale, and anchored herself in the present.

“Do you… do you want to keep going?” Estela asked tentatively, her dark eyes searching Taylor’s face for confirmation that she was all right. “We can just cuddle…?”

“I’m okay,” Taylor assured. “And I want more. More you.” She grinned and looped a leg around her wife’s long, toned one, grinding against her with a quiet moan. Fuck, she’s got nice legs….

Estela smirked. “Well, if that’s what you want….”

She captured Taylor’s hungry mouth in a deep kiss before ducking down, disappearing beneath the heavy covers. The heat of Taylor’s body, the scent of her… of her heady need, Estela was enveloped in it, and the soft blankets surrounding them, and it took her to a place where she was untouchable, bulletproof. Estela breathed it in, and her body shuddered with desire. She felt Taylor tremble at the touch of breath on her skin, goose-bumps already rising that had nothing to do with cold.

“’Stel, please….”

The muffled voice egged Estela on, but she was unhurried. She dipped her head, and ran her tongue languorously over the sensitive skin of Taylor’s stomach. A sharp whimper from above, a twitching buck of hips beneath her… oh, it was a kind of satisfaction Estela could bask in for days. She trailed kisses and licks and sharp nibbles in a meandering path across Taylor’s wonderfully soft inner thighs.

“You’re so…. Fucking…. Beautiful….” she breathed against them, punctuating her words of praise with kisses of escalating fierceness… and spurring another whimpering moan.

“God, Estela….”

With a moment to catch her breath-- the cover of the blankets, though warm, was stifling-- Estela brought her hands to her wife’s sensitive place and gently stroked. Even if the darkened space she could see the glistening wetness of the twitching folds. Another deep breath, shuddering with her own want, and she brought her lips to Taylor’s clit, sucking softly.

The effect was instant. With a sharp gasp, Taylor bucked her hips wildly, clocking Estela in the face. Giggling, Estela dipped back down and licked, alternating small, gentle, and long, hard strokes of her tongue until Taylor’s body was fluttering along with her heart, helpless in her wake.

All too soon, though, Estela really needed to come up for air. She emerged from the covers to Taylor’s face aglow with a pink flush.

“I love you… I love you….” Taylor panted, reaching for her lover’s face, delighting in the feeling as Estela took her fingers in her mouth and nibbled.

“Didn’t I say I wouldn’t let you miss me?” Estela smirked, and crawled up a little further. Her eyes never leaving Taylor’s face, she leaned down into her, and swirled her tongue over a heaving breast, taking her time and teasing the nipple with gentle flicks.

Taylor arched her back, pressing herself up against Estela with everything she had in her-- quite a feat as her body, by now, had gone to jelly.

Then Estela moved up even further, her lips caressing a trail up Taylor’s neck, rising in intensity as she reached her jaw. As Taylor’s breath hitched with a high-pitched squeak, Estela settled in, letting her hand find its place where it was wanted most.

“I--I’m so close…. I’m so close, ‘Stel.”

“Mi amor,” Estela purred against her lover’s throat, “let me take care of you.”

A few deftly placed strokes of talented fingers, and Taylor’s hips were bucking wildly, her hands grasping at Estela’s back as if for dear life, and a great cry of release escaped her lips.

As Taylor’s frantic moaning subsided and her body shook, Estela caressed her… her sides, her breasts, her face, through her hair… and kissed her again and again, sweet and gentle.

“Hey?” she asked softly. “Was that okay? Are you…?” Her dark eyes searched Taylor’s brilliant blue ones, and she saw only euphoria and love.

Taylor was smiling so hard her face ached. Her body tingled with warmth… it was as if she were alight. “My starlight….”

She pulled the covers up to both their chins, snuggled in against Estela, and kissed her… hoping with everything in her that she might somehow share some of the sheer happiness that coursed through her now-spent body.

When she came away, she was once again breathless. “Does that… does that answer your question?”

Estela giggled quietly and nuzzled in. “Yeah. I think it does.”

The cruel world had fallen away. Wrapped up in their shared duvet, their hearts thundering together, Estela and Taylor had found their sanctuary in one another.

[even-love-unreturned]

Meanings behind Chain of Iron chapter titles (part II, Ch16-29)

16. Dark Breaks to Dawn

Likely from another Dante Gabriel Rossetti poem, “Found”, a companion to his painting of the same name. It was published in 1881 in his volume Ballads and Sonnets.

“There is a budding morrow in midnight:”— So sang our Keats, our English nightingale. And here, as lamps across the bridge turn pale In London's smokeless resurrection-light, Dark breaks to dawn. But o'er the deadly blight Of Love deflowered and sorrow of none avail, Which makes this man gasp and this woman quail, Can day from darkness ever again take flight?

17. Prophet of Evil

In “The Raven”, Edgar Allen Poe calls the raven a “Prophet” and a “thing of evil”.

In the Iliad, Cachas the seer/prophet is called a “Prophet/seer of evil”:

To Calchas first of all he spoke, and his look threatened evil: “Prophet of evil, never yet have you spoken to me a pleasant thing; ever is evil dear to your heart to prophesy, but a word of good you have never yet spoken, nor brought to pass. […]”

I don’t think either of these two are the reference used here though.

18. Goblin Market

This title is clearly from the poem “Goblin Market” written by Christina Rossetti in 1859, a tale of two sisters tempted by magical and dangerous fruit sold by goblins. According to some analyses, the poem might read as an allegory of addiction and recovery. (This poem has also been quoted in chapter 6 of CA)

19. Thine Own Palace

From one of John Donne’s verse letters to Sir Henry Wotton beginning “Sir, more than kisses, letters mingle souls”:

“Be then thine own home, and in thyself dwell; Inn anywhere; continuance maketh hell. And seeing the snail which everywhere doth roam, Carrying his own house still, still is at home, Follow (for he is easy paced) this snail, Be thine own palace, or the world's thy jail.”

20. Equal Temper

From the poem “Ulysses” written by Alfred, Lord Tennyson in 1833.

Though much is taken, much abides; and though We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are, One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

21. Hell’s Own Track

From another Christina Rossetti poem, “Amor Mundi”, published in 1865.

“Turn again, O my sweetest,—turn again, false and fleetest:  This beaten way thou beatest I fear is hell’s own track.” “Nay, too steep for hill-mounting; nay, too late for cost-counting:  This downhill path is easy, but there’s no turning back.”

22. Heart of Iron

Perhaps from “The Belfry of Bruges” (1866) by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

At my feet the city slumbered.  From its chimneys, here and there, Wreaths of snow-white smoke, ascending, vanished, ghost-like, into air.

Not a sound rose from the city at that early morning hour, But I heard a heart of iron beating in the ancient tower.

23. Silken Thread

Possibly from the poem attributed under its first line “O Lady, leave thy silken thread” by Thomas Hood.

O lady, leave thy silken thread And flowery tapestrie: There's living roses on the bush, And blossoms on the tree; Stoop where thou wilt, thy careless hand Some random bud will meet; Thou canst not tread, but thou wilt find The daisy at thy feet.

24. He Shall Rise

This is either a biblical passage, or from Alfred Lord Tennyson’s “The Kraken”, first published in 1830.

There hath he lain for ages, and will lie
Battening upon huge sea worms in his sleep,
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by man and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.

25. Archangel Ruined

Finally we have Cassie’s obligatory Paradise Lost reference in every book!

[…] He, above the rest In shape and gesture proudly eminent,⁠ Stood like a tower; his form had yet not lost All her original brightness, nor appeared Less than Archangel ruined, and the excess Of glory obscured. […]

- Paradise Lost, Book I (1674), John Milton

26. Older Than Gods

The only thing I can find for the exact phrase “older than gods” is something from the play The Birds by Aristophanes, performed 414 BCE, in which characters argue that if birds are older than earth and therefore “older than gods”, then the birds are the heirs of the world, for the oldest always inherits. Somehow I don’t. Think that’s the reference used here ajskfkd.

Then, there’s a line that goes “older than all ye gods” in Algernon Charles Swinburne’s poem, “Hymn to Proserpine (After the Proclamation in Rome of the Christian Faith)”:

Will ye bridle the deep sea with reins, will ye chasten the high sea with rods?/Will ye take her to chain her with chains, who is older than all ye Gods?

27. Wake With Wings

From another poem relating to Prosepine (which is one of the Latin names for Persephone) “The Garden of Proserpine” (1866) by Algernon Charles Swinburne.

Though one were strong as seven, He too with death shall dwell, Nor wake with wings in heaven, Nor weep for pains in hell; Though one were fair as roses, His beauty clouds and closes; And well though love reposes, In the end it is not well.

28. No Wise Man

Possibly from the famous quote, written by Jonathan Swift (1667-1745) in essay: “No wise man ever wished to be younger.” But I doubt it, considering all the other references are of poems and verse.

29. A Broken Mirror

Possibly from poem XXXIII in the long narrative poem “Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage” by Lord Byron, published between 1812-1818. The wikipedia description has it as: “it describes the travels and reflections of a world-weary young man, who is disillusioned with a life of pleasure and revelry and looks for distraction in foreign lands.”

Even as a broken mirror, which the glass In every fragment multiplies; and makes A thousand images of one that was, The same, and still the more, the more it breaks; And thus the heart will do which not forsakes, Living in shatter'd guise, and still, and cold, And bloodless, with its sleepless sorrow aches, Yet withers on till all without is old, Showing no visible sign, for such things are untold.

Part 1 (chapters 1-15) here.

[godkilller]

HELL VERSE - WORLDBUILDING

There are numerous levels of Hell, and it’s difficult but not impossible to travel between each one. Gin went the lowest layer meant for betrayers / liars, therefore meaning he cannot travel any further downward. It’s an isolated place that stretches out for eternity, a dry roughened plain with sharp structures of rock and jagged mountains off in the distance – the largest, greatest mountain punctures through a thick gray storm of clouds in a constant state of churning thunder and flashing bolts of lightning. It’s a desolate land, no running water nor greenery. The days are long and biting winds are harsh, not warm, the ground is icy in areas, bodies frozen beneath the dirty surface, and the nights are pitch black and freezing cold. The sun never shines past the rumbling gray storm clouds above, there is no moonlight. It never rains.

A being sentenced to Hell awakens with a single chain, similar to a Chain of Fate, at the center of their chest. More chains begin to manifest upon them the longer they stay in Hell, and these cannot be broken by physical force nor Zanpakuto strike. The chains will extend endlessly, and even go invisible at times, though the starting period of the person manifesting within Hell typically sees their initial chain not giving them as much slack, restricting them from immediately seeking to travel to another circle of Hell beyond the one they were designated to appear within. The chains can be grabbed at, even used in combat scenarios, but the attachment skewers through the person’s chest into their very soul, it can be extremely painful to have it pulled at.

Roaming blindly throughout every single level are Hollow-esque creatures of molten flame, golems, who will endlessly hunt after beings with great enough reiatsu, regardless of if they conceal themselves – they crawl and clamber after their prey until the end of time, howling and burning. Beings who are caught by them are drained of their energies, and eventually consumed and killed if they aren’t already a resident of Hell – beings already damned to eternity in Hell will not die even if swarmed by these creatures, they’ll simply awaken later feeling greatly weakened temporarily. Zanpakuto can cut these things, destroy them, but they don’t die.

Guarding Hell throughout every layer or circle are Sentinels, large skeletal Hollow-esque soldiers who tirelessly patrol Hell. They stand roughly 60 feet  ( 18 meters )  tall, wear slabs of armor over their torso, shoulders, arms and legs, and may or may not carry with them weapons like swords or clubs of equally grand sizes. They attack anything on sight, but cannot perceive reiatsu, therefore can be avoided by physically hiding. If they find a target, they will immediately seek to destroy them. These entities can summon forth into its hand and thus grasp at the chains connected to any resident of Hell, making it dangerous for any condemned persons to stand against them. Sentinels who succeed in striking down their targets send that victim to Purgatory, a separate and inescapable dimension.

Gin attempted to travel beyond his layer of Hell immediately, but was pulled back downward by his chain. He then took to traveling on foot to scout out the barren wastelands – several days worth of walking, in hunger and thirst, alone, Gin came across a labyrinth of sharp rocks leading towards the base of a mountainous structure, and began scaling it. A single misstep can lead to a harsh plummet, and every part of the climb involved carefully navigating the sharp black rocks which jutted outwards, leaving minimal areas to stop and rest. Lightning bolts, as the climb grew higher into the gray, threatened to strike and made the air smell like ash and copper. The climb is tedious, and various Sentinels stalk around the base of this mountain to guard it from being scaled.

Gin’s journey within his layer of Hell took him several months, but he at last breached the eighth layer of Hell beyond the clouds. Trenches pooled in mist and fog  ( which transition downward into the clouds below )  separated into ten parts – the various sins involving fraud, false prophets, and seducers. The trenches are muddy, slick, and reeks of death. There are bodies half submerged and wailing within the muck, trying to breathe and cry for help – they are the only available anchors to climb out, forcing any attempting to get out of the trenches to crawl and clamber using the bodies of others to hold onto. Most are dormant or incoherent, but newer souls submerged are aware and in blatant distress, desperate, and if awakened into screaming will thus awaken others, causing a frenzied attempt for all to climb upwards. Any who fall are swallowed up by the mists below, and any residents of Hell who fall down the trench will be sent to the level of Hell awaiting below. Every trench is connected, intertwined, woven in a way that each must be dealt with in order to proceed upward.

A little over a year, a chain added to Gin’s frame, and Gin has made it to the seventh layer of Hell meant for abusers, violent and blasphemous, ghouls gnashing their teeth and claw at one another angrily, blindly, in a vast field bloodsoaked and decorated with fallen bodies dismembered and slain. Discarded weapons askew in the damp red-stained grass. It rains here, but irregularly in abrupt downpours, the air is thick and hot. Gin meets Kiganjo Gosuke, the previous Kenpachi slain by Zaraki Kenpachi, who becomes overeager to finally see a new Shinigami travel to this layer of Hell —- and they battle. Gin reckons he needn’t fight too seriously, as they’re both in Hell and therefore neither of them can truly die – but this sentiment is quickly corrected: you can be sent to Purgatory by another damned soul if slain, which Gin would prefer to avoid. Idly, in the midst of clashing, Gin ponders on whether or not him winning would mean Zaraki Kenpachi would be required to slay him to amend the Kenpachi title being loopholed. Gosuke will not let Gin pass him and tells Gin to not get too cocky.

They battle for several days and nights. Gin rediscovers a faint will to live in the span of their tedious battle, realizes he’s still holding on to something, and gives Gosuke his all. Gin laments having to send the first person he genuinely meets in Hell to Purgatory, informing the other that it’s nothing personal before using Kamishini No Yari’s poisonous ace. Gin travels to the next layer, weaving through another maze of sharp trees past the fields and into the sixth circle, a charred and desolate place bathed in flame and molten lava. Many Sentinels reside here, birthed from the seas of fire, a rather large one carrying a whip cracks it across the lands, forming new fissures of flame that spew ash and embers into rains of harsh soot. Suffocating, the atmosphere has no relent nor clear passage, and Gin is struck down when attempting to pass through, pulled by his chains, and swarmed. He’s engulfed by clawing golems who burn and eat away at flesh until Gin awakens with the taste of ash in his mouth, weakened, in the fields of blood of the seventh layer of Hell. Gosuke is not there anymore. Gin’s alone, exhausted, and left to wonder how he’ll ever get past the molten terrain of the circle beyond, awaiting him.

Gin rests to regain his strength, though he’s needed to grow accustomed to the constant sensation of starvation, thirst, and the lack of security enough to genuinely sleep or rest without eventually being sniffed out by lurking golems. Gin does his best to do so, giving himself several weeks of collective wandering, hiding, resting, and repeat – until his reiatsu felt adequately recovered enough to try his way through the sixth again. Intruders of Hell must travel downward through each layer and will face equal adversity as those who hope to escape. But escape isn’t possible if chained to Hell via Chains of Fate, meaning even if one were to make it to the first circle and towards the grand gates of Hell, they could walk through and certainly smell the air and breathe it in, but inevitably the chains which bind them below will trigger, awaken, grow taut, and then mercilessly drag them downward through stone and dirt and rock until their bodies return to the circle of Hell they first awoke within. This can happen immediately, or it can happen days, weeks, even a month after their initial ‘escape’ happens. There is no warning. Just an inescapable doom.

[secret-engima]

So the Demons Verse is inhabited by fantastical races, yes? Not, I assume, JUST humans and daemons? What other races are there, and does each kingdom have it’s own main race? ie. demons for the Night Kingdom, humans for Lucis, such and such. (Maybe merpeople for Altissia, can we please have merfolk in Altissia??) And how do these other kingdoms react to the new Accursed?

Yes actually! Lucis is actually the most mixed kingdom for Historical Reasons my brain is too tired to make up on the spot rn. The original population was primarily Human, but that was back in like- Somnus’s time. By now everyone in Lucis is so used to seeing Elves, Dwarves, Fairies, hybrids, and the occasional Mer that no one bats an eye. That said, the other kingdoms are more heavily biased toward one fantasy race or other, even if the other races are scattered throughout.

Yes, Accordo is a kingdom of Mer. Altissia, the capital, is their only above-water city, meant to facilitate trade and communications. The canals are their primary roads but there are all sorts of waterpark style lanes and pools and things on the level of the stone streets so people can chat and be eye level.

Tenebrae is a kingdom of Fairies, deceptively delicate looking beings who are about the height of a human (not teeny thank you) and with razor sharp teeth. The Oracle is a Fairy Queen btw.

Niflheim is an Elven run kingdom, because I said so and because having humans be the evil empire dudes is boring. Of course, because of all the territory they’ve conquered, there are a LOT of other members from different races in there (barring merfolk, because the Niflheim continent is traditionally Desert and that was before they managed to tick off the Glacian and get cursed to nigh-on eternal winter).

Then of course, because fantasy world, there are other kingdoms that weren’t there in canon. Galahd is it’s own kingdom for one (inhabited by humans who hoard the magic art of skin-changing to themselves) that is a long-standing ally with Lucis, if an aloof one. There’s also a teeny kingdom up around the Rock of Ravatogh primarily inhabited by dwarves. Supposedly because they’re too stubborn to leave despite the semi-active volcano right outside their capital but mostly it’s because nobody ELSE wants to come near the semi-active volcano and they like their privacy and the lack of invasion risk this gives them.

Up in Niflheim, mostly by the shores or way up in the mountains, there are still human-run kingdoms btw. Niflheim leaves those scattered kingdoms alone (for now) because frankly all of those humans stubborn enough to live in first a desert and then a SNOW covered desert (and/or near the choppy waters of the ocean) is a bit too stubborn to be worth crushing (yet). Nobody is entirely expecting the uneasy non-aggression treaty to last up there, since the new and young (by elf standards) Emperor Aldercapt is not the relatively reasonable type his father was.

Also there’s a kingdom of humans who claim to be Solheim survivors by the way. Not sure where, probably way up past Vesperpool where you can’t get to in FFXV.

Nobody likes to talk about them.

They’re arrogant and nuts and only leave everyone else alone because the Night King’s kingdom would be right on their doorstep if they caused any trouble.

Speaking of, Insomnia’s kingdom isn’t just the city, it’s the entire island on which the city is founded and also a little bit of the mainland besides.

Anyway, on your other question: FICLET TIME. 

Word of the new Accursed spreads ... slowly. Most don’t believe it, only notice something is up because the daemon attacks have stopped (daemons can travel through shadows all around the world barring warded areas like cities and Havens, they just don’t LIKE to, apparently it makes them feel slimy and tired, but the original Accursed made them do it so the attacks were worldwide things). At first they think like Mors did, that something is Up and everyone privately bids a sigh of relief that Lucis is the next door neighbor to the Accursed and not them (Barring Galahd, who is the oceanic next door neighbor, they all begin battening down the proverbial hatches).

Only the Oracle suspects something drastic and unseen has changed, because she ... she FELT something. Unexpectedly in the night, as if the entire world had cried out in surprised relief. She had woken up with a start and all of Tenebrae had woken up with her to gawk as their magically grown, softly glowing trees and flowers all lit up until it was as bright as day and then just as quickly faded back to their normal soft glow. But she has no idea WHAT happened, just that it was after that the daemon attacks stopped.

And then stay stopped.

For a year. And then a year and several months. No sound, no sight, no word, no whispers of black magic trying to build in the dark places to form the cursed Night Clouds that let daemons roam free in the day (note: daemons in this world will not die if subjected to sunlight, but OH BOY will they get sunburn and will get sick from it. Moon, starlight, and greatly diffused sunlight is okay, but cloudless/mostly cloudless days? Not even the Accursed could force them out of their homes then).

And then, just when everyone’s nerves are at their tightest-.

Lucis is overthrown.

Oh, OFFICIALLY it is fine, King Mors still reigns, there weren’t even any casualties, but all the spies and witness reports and shaky letters to family in other kingdoms say the same thing. The Accursed marched on Insomnia with a horde of daemons that were incalculable, Night Clouds rolling out all the way to the capital of Lucis, covering the city sky as if the wards meant to prevent that exact event meant NOTHING. Then, just as quickly, the horde turned and left and the clouds retreated.

They took the Crown Prince of Lucis with them.

Ohhhhh boy the gossip and panic. The disbelief and fear, because what has happened, what has changed to give the Accursed that much power? Surely something MUST have changed or else he would have done that and more long ago. Even the Empire quails from the implications, ceasing its tentative pokes at it’s sister continent for fear of stirring Insomnia.

But four more years go by and the attacks never resume. Hunters and travelers report daemons spotted at night, wandering by doing who knows what, but they ... are non-violent. They do not attack travelers or try to chase down caravans, they just go about their night as if they had never had a bloodthirsty thought in their lives (until someone attacks, and then suddenly the bloodlust is back and the offender is torn to shreds). People learn fast to just leave the daemons alone and be left alone in turn, but it Freaks People Out.

Finally, FINALLY, the tension cannot be born, and Queen Sylva herself leaves to investigate, her husband in place as regent and her daughter safe and sound, a new Oracle in case ... she ... well. Hopefully that won’t happen.

She flies alone, hidden from view with magic, and lands respectfully at the border of the Night Kingdom. Her magic flares, not enough to be anything like an assault, but enough to be noticed. A greeting of sorts. No Oracle has done this since ... centuries at least, more perhaps, but legends speak of this ritual, of a date and time and way for the Oracle to meet with the Accursed and be let free afterward (for amusement, not honor, but everyone knows the Accursed likes “playing by the rules” just to prove that the rules cannot stop him from winning). She hopes the legends are right.

An hour later, her escort arrives. She holds her head high as the daemons lead her into the dark.

The city is not anything like she imagined. It is dark, yes, but not nighttime black. This is the dull light of dusk and twilight, sunlight filtering through the clouds just enough to support the curling greenery reclaiming the ruins of the ancient city, not enough to burn the skin of the inhabitants. Foreign magic weaves through the air and ground, but it does not reek like the black arts Sylva has encountered in the wake of the unseen Accursed. This feels different. Old and wild and ... calm. Dangerous, incredibly so, but passive. A predator watching her pass by, too relaxed to bother tearing her apart.

More than the magic, the city is ... ALIVE. Daemons flit to and fro, not screaming and bloodthirsty like she has always seen, but calm. They chatter and warble in a tongue she doesn’t know, haggling in marketplaces and gossiping as she and her escort pass by. A few small ones that could only be called children scamper by, pausing to blink at her in awe and Sylva feels just as surprised. She didn’t know ... she didn’t know daemons even HAD children. No one did. Most assumed the Accursed just ... created them when he needed more using his black magic.

Then she sees the human and the world stops. She jerks to a halt without thinking and her escort stop with her, growling angrily at her pause but she does not care. Her wings flick out from her back in an expression of shock before settling.

The human looks just as surprised. He gapes at her, clean and well dressed and healthy, if pale from such low light. Then, to her increasing shock, he bows and falls in step with the escort, bossily pushing a daemon out of step to take its place with a low, inhuman chatter noise that sounds like a coarse imitation of the daemon’s tongue. He tentatively smiles at her after taking his spot in the escort and she cannot think of how to react. Especially when she spots MORE humans lurking in the streets alongside the daemons, talking and haggling and pausing to stare at her.

What are ... what are humans doing here? The Accursed hated all the races, but the fairies and the humans were easily the ones he hated most. How had they survived?

She does not get a chance to ask, because by now they are approaching what must be the Accursed’s home, a towering building untouched by the ruin of the others. She is led inside and straight to a throne room that fits all her expectations (dark, ominous, with furs and trophy racks lining the walls, lit with will o’wisps) save for the inhabitants. Especially its king.

The Accursed is nothing like she expected. He is human. Physically he looks only about ... oh perhaps his late twenties or thirties, only a little older than her little Luna, who is only just now learning the rites and spells of Oracle magic. His hair is black and neatly kept, his clothes are fine, if a bit worn, and his skin is pale, but not unhealthily so. More strangely, she sees none of the signs of black magic she knew she should have been. His skin is not bloodless white, there are no patches of thick black stones from where the evil magic has managed to break free of his body and crystalize and a hundred other symptoms that are all ... not there. She thinks it’s an illusion until he straightens up on his throne and meets her eyes. They are blue, blue and clear as a summer sky. There is no hint of acidic yellow, no smoky swirls of black-grey where whites should be, no slitted pupils. His eyes ... are normal.

No black mage, no matter how skilled or old or cursed, could cast an illusion on their eyes. That was the price for using that magic. That was an unbreakable rule of magic itself. Magic had its colors, and those colors effected the eyes of the wielder and those effects could NOT be hidden (especially not while using spells, but even just passively. It was why Lucis Caelums always had blue eyes, and Oracles always had white-blue).

She stops, barely notices the daemon guards calmly filing out, as if she was not even a threat to be watched anymore, and tries to understand what she is seeing.

There is movement at the Night King’s side and she is startled to see Prince Regis, King Mors’ missing son, the one captured and dragged away as the price for Lucis’s continued existence. He is not a tormented, enslaved wreck she would have expected, he is dressed well, his face is unmarred by pain, his eyes, too, are clear of any curse or enthrallment as he bends down to whisper something in the Night King’s ear, almost like an ... advisor of some kind?

She reaches out with her magic, just a tiny tendril, out of sheer disbelief, looking for the spell that must be placed on the human prince no matter what her eyes are telling her. Before the magic can reach the prince, the Accursed’s gaze sharpens and his own magic snaps out. But instead of the biting pain of black magic meeting white and both burning the other in a flare of agony, her magic is given the equivalent of a light, scolding rap on the knuckles. A teacher warning a child to mind their manners and Not Touch and her wings flick as she tastes the unmistakable ozone-rainy texture of crystal magic on her tongue. Old and deep and far more powerful than she’s ever known it, not since the original rites and spells for it were lost, more powerful than any in written history even, but unmistakable.

The man on the throne is a Lucis Caelum.

“You have journeyed far,” says the Night King, the impossibility, on his throne as his magic settles down again, his lips twitching in a gentle sort of amusement she cannot comprehend, “to grace us with your presence, Queen Oracle. You come alone, as well. Are you not afraid?”

“Have I need to be?” She asks cautiously in return, “Has the hospitality of the Night King on this honored day and night, upheld since the times of the Fall, been rescinded?”

It is not her Oracle senses, or even her Queen sensibilities that spot the flicker of surprise and lost confusion on the man’s face, but those of a mother who is used to seeing her children pretend to be wiser and more mature than they are to impress her, only to stumble when they encounter something unknown. Another whisper from Prince Regis and the expression clears and his eyes light with understanding that is so innocent and fascinated that she cannot stop or shake the new, terrifying and fascinating, realization from her bones.

“It has not,” says the Night King smoothly, “yet I must ask, for what reason do you come?”

“I come,” she says slowly, “to greet the newly crowned Night King, and, if it pleases His Majesty, to receive answers to some questions.”

There is a frozen silence where the humans lurking in the shadows all gape at her. Then-.

Laughter. Soft and short and weary, but honest and not unkind, “I was wondering,” says the man (boy, for although age clings to his bones like a heavy cloak, she does not think he is a man by Immortal standards, not yet, or at least he shouldn’t but is, just like all children forced to grow up too fast) as he stands up and begins limping (limping and what blow could permanently injure an Immortal? Those who survive even burning to ash on the wind? She can think of only one answer, and the surety of her realization grows) down the stairs to meet her on even ground, “if anyone on the outside would figure it out.”

He stops before her, amusement mixed with only a thread of wariness in his eyes, a human too old to be natural, an Immortal too young to be ruling, “What gave me away?”

She stares into his eyes and feels the ancient power of her bloodline, the intuition that marked them as seers, stir. For a moment she tastes memory and pain, a curse willingly taken to spare the lives of others, a price willingly paid as blood weeps free of should-be mortal wounds. For a moment memory not her own whispers poisonously in her ears “The throne sits only one.” and in her blood another voice responds, “Off my chair, Jester, the King sits there.” She pushes it away, those are not her memories to keep or her burdens to bear. Those belong to the young Night King standing before her, looking at her without fear, but instead nostalgic fondness, as if he looks at her and sees the ghost of another at her shoulder (one of her ancestors perhaps, and the thought gives her pause).

“Your eyes,” she settles on finally, “the original Accursed had yellow eyes.” She has never seen him to know of course, but all practitioners of the Black Arts got them before the poisonous magic killed its own wielder, and the Accursed would have been no different despite his stubborn survival in the face of the death curse Black Magic gave all its wielders.

There is a flicker of surprise, then sadness, “Yes,” he agrees with a knowing that comes from experience, “they were.” He blinks as if to banish a memory, then dips his chin in greeting and gestures a hand toward one of the side doors of the Throne Room, “It is far too early for dinner,” he says politely, “but I am certain Ignis would be able to make something light to help you relax from your journey. Will you talk with me over tea?”

Feeling off balance and aware he could tell despite her calm facade, she dips her chin and flicks her wings in a return greeting, one monarch to another, “I would be honored.”

[lostinaseaoffictionalbliss]

A/N: Here is a snippet from my first book The Dragon Tamers: The End of Peace which is available on Amazon. And a snippet from my second book The Dragon Tamers: The Last Tamer which I’m currently working on.

This is from the first book

   One           

 Jersavian & Its Dragons

The continent of Jersavian consisted of the North which was known only as The Land of Dragons and the South; The Bad Lands, Selkia, Darmantha, Chandaloria, and Dravasta.

Little is known  about The Land of Dragons as few have the courage to travel there. Most fear that in doing so they will incur the wrath of the very beasts that call it home. For that reason alone all that is known is that it seems to be a vast and luscious land.

The Bad Lands gained their name because little can grow and live there. The ground was made mostly of sand with rocks scattered about. There were only two trees in all the area and they were near a pond; Survival Pond it was named in later years. The sun beat upon the ground and any living creature in such a way it was almost unbearable. Most animals avoided the place as little shelter from the sun and her merciless rays. Nor could they find a warm place in the dark of night, for once the sun set the terrain became almost frigid save for the sand that still held heat. Yet, a few humans braved the temperature to call it home.

Selkia falls between the large river known as Dawn River-east of the Bad Lands-and the high ranges of Glacier Point. The river was so named because with the rising of the sun and dawn's first light it glittered and gleamed; a kaleidoscope of colors coming from its crystal clear water. As for the tall mountain ranges, with only one pass (The Selkian Pass), owe their name to the snow and ice that coats their large points; points that seem to reach the sky.

Because of the river and the small unnamed forest that lies in Selkia the land is lush and teeming with life. Many birds such as the hawk, mockingbird, yellow finch, and different breeds of owl call the land home. As do a few species of deer and rabbit. Near the mountains goats would roam and climb. The light elves, called such because of their magical abilities and love of all forms of light, that call the land their home are a prosperous people. They take only what they need from the land and always give back in some form. Whether this be by planting seeds or raising animals they found a way to keep balance. They were a tall and lithe race with dark almost black skin, black hair, and either brown or dark green eyes, and had power over woodland creatures.

Darmantha lies East of Glacier Point and is full of life and wonder. It lays claim to the large lake Blarion that is filled with many species of fish; trout, catfish, bluegill, bass, and muskellunge; and the vast forest Endless Night. The trees that grew there were tall; their bark a redish hue; their large branches coming together to form a thick canopy in which little to know light and snow can come through thus giving it its name. Deer ran plenty beneath the trees as did rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks, raccoons, foxes, and a few bears. Birds called the large trees their home and could often be heard singing at all hours.

The Dark Elves, named for their love of darkness and the forest in which they lived, called this wonderful kingdom their home. They had always loved the darkness and could see far with their glowing eyes despite the lack of sun and moonlight that shone there. These elves had a slender build, tan skin, were of varying heights- mostly tall-with black or brown hair, dark eyes, and the ability to grow and talk to plants.

Chandaloria lies East of the Bad Lands and directly South of Selkia. The entire realm is engulfed in the Twinkling forest. The name given for the lights that  can always be seen among the tops of the trees. During the day they are barely noticeable as the bright light of the sun shines down. With the setting of the sun and the rising of the moon the lights shine bright enough to be seen a mile off. While any who visit the forest might believe the light is a magical creation they would be wrong. It in fact comes from the billions of fireflies that call the forest their home.

The Twinkling Forest also provides shelter to the woodland fairies; given their name as they loved the woods and all things that grew there. They were small, not much bigger than young teens, with large butterfly like wings, wide childlike eyes, and skin that had a pinkish glow. It is because of them that other races of Jersavian believe the lights of the forest come from magic. It is true they have magic and can do many things, but that is one thing not of their doing.

Southeast of Darmantha in a small corner of Jersavian lay the kingdom of Dravasta. Its borders marked by the Tuka River that lay across the land and the ocean. It is a small place with few trees and even fewer living things save the goblins. The foul creatures had destroyed the land all that it had to give. They cared little for other living things save what they could provide. They left the ground a dark muddy mess. The very air foul to any that breath it except them. To those that used magic and were sensitive to the earths cries (such as elves and fairies) they could sense illness in that land. An illness that didn't effect the pale green skinned, tall, hulking goblins with their beady eyes and long saber like fangs.

Long ago before the First War, before elves, humans, fairies, and goblins ruled Jersavian it was ruled solely by dragons. Tis true the beasts live in The Land of Dragons-where no man or woman has went-some, however enjoyed the land to the South.

Two species of dragon-Wyvern and Phoenix-enjoyed the hot sandy desert in the Bad Lands. The warmth felt goof upon their scaly bodies; soaking up the heat of the sun and the sand. IT was also a great place for them to nest. Eggs could be buried in the sand or placed in rocky areas that littered the desert. Despite few creatures being able to withstand the heat the dragons had snakes to feast upon or could fly to Dawn River; there they could catch fish or other animals that came to drink; or they could go west to the sea.

The mountains just East of Selkia called to the Ampithere. It could easily hide its egg amongst the rocks or in a cave. The temperature at the base wasn't that cold and it housed many goats. This gave the dragons plenty of prey for itself and its hatchling,

There was one other breed of dragon, the Ice Dragon. It liked to make Darmantha its home. That kingdom while not unbearable cold was the coldest in all of Jersavian. The forest teeming with wildlife provided plenty of food, There were also plenty of places to hide an egg; keeping it perfectly safe.

Few dragon came down from The Land of Dragons, but the ones that did ruled Jersavian. No animal could contend with the beasts and none would dare try. That is until people came.

This is from the second book

 Prologue

The night was cool with the first signs of winter. Frost clung to the grass, bushes, and low-hanging branches like a child clings to the mother after a terrifying nightmare. The air was crisp and if someone were to take a deep breath it would slightly burn the lungs as cool air is apt to do. A soft snow drifted from the sky that was illuminated brightly by the moon. The moon hung high in the sky; bright, full, beautiful, and full of power. A few stars dotted the sky around her twinkling; the others blocked by grey snow clouds.

In the midst of the forest that lay near Selkia there was a lone cottage. Herbs, strings of garlic, and other such oddities hung from the porch rafters. A bright green cloth hung upon the front door. It depicted a golden dragon perched upon a cliff with bright blue light coming from its mouth. It was a dragon of legend. Something they had only heard about and never actually seen. Many wondered if it truly existed.

The cottage was shrouded in darkness save for a lone light shinning through a window to the right of the door. The candle's flame flickered to and fro as if a breeze had blown. Yet, the night was still save for the falling snow and the occasional nocturnal animal scurrying about the forest floor in search of food.

Old Sage-though truly he didn't look old and was only named thus because of his wisdom-sat as his table shrouded in smoke, from burning incense, and shadow. It had been two years since he helped Josalin, Nimir, Jaimeson, and Rochelle become one with their dragons. Since then he had been keeping a close eye on them and the dragonlings they had hatched. He watched to see how the humans would change now their blood was mingled with that of a dragon. He watched to see what type of bond would form between them and the dragonlings; that of friendship, master and owner, pet and owner.

It was very curious seeing how they grew together. While dragons took quite some time to grow the humans were left tending to them like a parent would a child to keep them fed and safe. Once they were big enough to hunt on their own the bond seemed to shift. It became more like friendship or kinship. They talked to one another, played with one another, and continued to grow closer together.

Old Sage gazed into the light purple crystal ball sitting on the table. It was held up by a large black steel stand. Its legs were in the shape of a dragon's foot and the three dark points that held the ball in place were in the shape of flames.

The smoke swirled in the ball, forming many different shapes. Dragons could be seen; a few trees that could be Selkia, Darmantha, or Chandaloria. Once the ball even showed the beach near the Bad Lands. Sounds also came from inside the ball; birds chirping, kid goats bleating, the ocean waves crashing upon the bank. The crystal ball was capable of showing a person many things; past, present, and things that were yet to come or may not come at all; the future was fickle and ever changing after all. It constantly picked up many things at all times. Only one versed in using it could make it focus and show something specific. However even with the skill and knowledge to use it the crystal could easily show the person using it something other than what they desired to see.

Old Sage had been using the crystal to keep watch over the Dragon Tamers. Most of them lived in other kingdoms and once King Anais had learned Josalin hatched a dragon he had banished her from Selkia. Her young love Aramatis had of course followed her. It had pained Old Sage to watch the spirited young girl and trouble-making boy leave. Because he had watched the two of them grow up and cared for them a great deal he tended to peek in on their lives more than the others.

However tonight he wanted to look into the future instead of the present.

He sprinkled a pinkish looking liquid upon the crystal. Lifting his arms above his head he began chanting in the beautiful, melodic, sometimes enchanting voice of his people; the Light Elves.

Spirits guide me

Show me what I seek

Let me glimpse the future

To know the Fate

Of one who I hold dear

Let me look upon her face

Show me what becomes of her

The smoke inside the crystal swirled once more. A chilling voice like four people talking over one another came from inside. “The future you wish to see, yes. The future we shall allow you to see. But beware Old Sage for what you may not be what you desire. We guide you, but the future is fickle, the future is ever changing. Even we can not know exactly what this one will see. Nor is it set in stone. Things can change.” A small hissing laugh emitted from the crystal before it finally began to clear.

[rosaguard]

i’ll probably make a more official post about all this at a later date but i was talking to verumking about some stuff and since it was already something i wanted to talk about on my blog, i figured i would just post about it here as well. for starters, i don't really like the idea of minerva in crisis core - mostly b/c her existence raises questions the writers didn't seem to consider. for instance, if this being exists to protect the planet, why didn't the planet 'summon' her when sephiroth was running around and shanked aeris? i've been thinking of how i can make minerva not suck ( at least in my eyes ) and one idea is to just continue ignoring her completely while playing with the idea of aeris becoming something more™️ when she dies / enters the lifestream which has been floating in my head for awhile now.

i've seen people say they've made her overly special / powerful in the remake which is weird to me since 1). she was always special - being the last cetra was her big 'special' thing:tm: and 2). she was probably always meant to powerful but they couldn't fully explore it back in 1997. aeris' powers have been unclear in canon as far back as the OG - she can canonically enter cloud's subconscious and they take that ability even further in the remake - but we have no idea if that's a thing all cetra can just do or if she's even more powerful then the average cetra. for the sake of this discussion, i'm going to go with the latter. we already know she helped save the planet even in death; we just didn't know how until maiden that travels the planet ( which i'm constantly confused on whether is canon or not b/c cl.otis and clerit.hs are always arguing about it. apparently the ultmania it was in is getting reprinted so??? ). 

anyway, MTTTP basically turns her saving the planet into this 'my friends are my power' thing and all the souls she meets in the novel such as jessie, biggs, wedge, zack, etc. + the other souls within the lifestream itself help push meteor back but i'm also like....what if she just willed it by herself completely? this is essentially a long lead up to me proposing the idea of her and the planet's subconsciousness basically merging together once she dies. i always felt like aeris ( and other characters ) were super active post-death in a way that doesn't really make sense. aeris can be explained as her being a cetra™️ ( but even then i feel like it’s kind of a reach since the cetra are so unexplored ) but zack should've merged with the lifestream by the time advent children happens and it doesn't make sense for him to appear to cloud - at least based on how the lifestream is described in the OG - unless aeris herself willed it so. 

i’ve touched on how a lot of the themes regarding the lifestream and the cetra are very similar to many concepts in indian religions before on my blog. one thing i didn’t touch on, however, was how the philosophical concept of brahman reminds me of aeris’ character beyond death: 

brahma (ब्रह्म), brahman (stem) means the concept of the transcendent and immanent ultimate reality, supreme cosmic spirit in hinduism. 

brahman on the other hand cannot be seen with the naked eye. It can only be experienced. brahman is said to be all-pervasive. It pervades all parts of existence. it is present everywhere. sages of the past have experienced the Brahman and have become realized souls. according to advaita of sankara, all individual souls are parts of the supreme brahman. after getting liberation from the human bodies, the individual souls become one with the brahman. death is meant only for the body and not for the soul.

all of the souls in the lifestream make up one, large collective ( or 'soul' ) which is the planet's consciousness similar to brahman. the way brahman is described, or at least my understanding of it at least, is that it's not a 'physical' thing but something that is felt because it exists within everyone / everything and is present everywhere. this reminds me of not only of how bugenhagen describes the lifestream but also how aeris' presence post-death is handled as well. 

bugenhagen: eventually... all humans die. what happens to them after they die? the body decomposes, and returns to the planet. that much everyone knows. what about their consciousness, their hearts and their souls? the soul too returns to the planet. and not only those of humans, but everything on this planet. in fact, all living things in the universe, are the same. the spirits that return to the planet, merge with one another and roam the planet. they roam, converge, and divide, becoming a swell, called the 'lifestream'. lifestream... in other words, a path of energy of the souls roaming the planet. 'spirit energy' is a word that you should never forget. a new life... children are blessed with spirit energy and are brought into the world. then, the time comes when they die and once again return to the planet... of course there are exceptions, but this is the way of the world.

aeris within the lifestream is the last shot you see in the original game ( not counting the post credits ) and instead of hints of her theme playing, the chimes for the lifestream theme plays instead as she smiles. she also helps saves cloud after his fight with sephiroth in the lifestream so aeris not merging with the lifestream and still looking out for the others was a thing even in the original game. in advent children, her presence is constantly 'felt' even though she is not there directly whether it’s tifa being able to feel her presence when it's raining, cloud being able to indirectly talk to her, or even marlene sensing her when sephiroth summons the infected lifestream. 

tifa: aeris is here... everyone is here... cloud is here with us!

a lot of these moments are also specifically tied to nature ( or places she was tied to such as the church or her death site ): her leaving a voicemail on cloud’s phone when it’s dropped in water, her appearing in the flower fields in the credits as cloud is traveling the countryside, her showing up while the party is fighting bahamut in the sky, etc. sephiroth’s presence in the lifestream post-game would also work better as them being contrasting rivals because through geostigma, he would be hurting 'her' as she is the planet’s consciousness now. ( it could also explain why she was never like 'hey cloud, i have healing water under my church. go grab a shovel and get to digging fam!!!' because maybe she couldn't reach out to him or something. the real answer is bad writing and fan service but!!! )

overall, aeris becoming the ffivii equivalent of the supreme cosmic spirit is interesting™️ to me. her dying like in the OG isn’t a part of my main canon but the entire concept of this could still be a thing once she dies of old age in my main canon or used for another verse ( most likely the latter ). especially since she seems to just be able to...do things because she simply wills it after death - at least to an extent. for instance, cloud literally dies at the end of Advent Children and she simply went 'no, i don’t think you will' before sending him back to her church alive. she also talks to kadaj as he’s dying and joining the lifestream which again, doesn’t seem to be a general cetra thing but it’s hard to say. it always read to me as if ifalna had already fully merged with the lifestream when aeris was still a child and she couldn’t ‘talk’ to her mother anymore. yet aeris is able to physically manifest herself ( and zack ) outside of the lifestream to talk to cloud ( it was for fanservice:tm: but stuff like that raises questions SE!!!!! ).

tl;dr: she's basically a goddess after dying and keeps zack around because it gets kind of boring monitoring the flow of life sometimes.

[skadren]

sefikura week day 2: bird

read it on ao3  |  previous day  |  next day

note: this takes place in red strings ‘verse, but can be read as a standalone

-

The soft wings on Cloud’s back twitch and flutter, unconsciously mimicking the movements of the pair of small birds outside his window as they swoop and gambol through the crystal-clear sky. One of them flits out of the window frame and Cloud leans forward, craning his neck to get a better view. Something that might be called longing aches in his chest.

“Cloud.”

Cloud yelps and topples forward, smacking his forehead against the pane of glass. “Sephiroth—!” he gasps in (fearpanicterror) surprise.

Sephiroth chuckles, rich and deep. “Did I startle you?” Long fingers stroke at the nape of Cloud’s neck, then trail languidly down to the sensitive spot between his shoulder blades where skin bleeds into feathers.

Cloud shivers, (repulsedafraidguilty) pleased. “A little,” he admits even as he bares his neck for his (enemyjailormaster) lover.

“You have nothing to fear from me,” Sephiroth murmurs against Cloud’s fluttering pulse. “You know that.”

“I know that,” Cloud repeats obediently. “But…” He sneaks a glance out the window again. The birds are still there, the smaller of the two perched on the sill while the other hovers above it, as if beckoning.

Sephiroth smooths Cloud’s hair back, drawing his attention again. “But…? Does it have something to do with what you were so avidly staring at earlier?”

“The birds.”

Sephiroth pauses. “Birds?”

“Yeah.” Cloud smiles, faint but genuine. “It’s been a while since…” (since he’s last seen any signs of life)

Sephiroth looks out the window as well, an imperceptible crease in his brow. "Birds?" he repeats.

Cloud nods, then—"Oh," he says, inexplicably wistful as they alight effortlessly, swooping away until they are no more than tiny specks on the horizon. "There they go."

Sephiroth is silent for a moment before shifting just so, and then Cloud finds himself pinned down on his back, staring up at a curtain of quicksilver hair and emerald-bright eyes, identical to his own. “You should be concerned with more relevant things, shouldn’t you?” Sephiroth purrs in a very particular tone of voice.

Cloud blinks up at him once, twice. He knows exactly what that tone means, and despite the overwhelming (trepidation) compulsion that grips him, he finds himself hesitating to obey Sephiroth for the (thousandth) first time. There’s a strange weight in his chest, heavy yet buoyant at the same time; his eyes flick over to the window just barely in his periphery once more, and Sephiroth growls.

“Cloud.”

Cloud’s gaze snaps back with a sharp, breathy gasp, head falling limp against soft pillows as he automatically spreads himself obligingly beneath Sephiroth. Everything goes soft and warm and comfortable, blurred about the edges, and he stares adoringly up at his lover, his god, his everything.

(Part of Cloud screams, unheard.)

Sephiroth stares back, something unreadable in his gaze. Then he sighs, sitting back up. “How would you like to fly with me, Cloud?”

It takes a moment for Sephiroth’s words to register in Cloud’s fogged brain, and even when they do, Cloud has to repeat, “Fly? With you?”

“Yes,” Sephiroth says. There’s an unnameable emotion in the line of his brow, the flicker of his eyes, the set of his mouth. “Would you like to try?”

Cloud hesitates. Something about outside and Sephiroth don’t fit together in his mind, two mismatched pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. But it’s something Sephiroth has suggested, so of course, he acquiesces with a nod.

Though Sephiroth takes the lead, Cloud’s legs seem to remember the winding passageways and long halls, as if he’s traveled the route leading outside many times before. But although he may have spent the long hours without Sephiroth roaming the castle, he’s only been outside…

How many times? He doesn’t remember.

(More times than he can count. Each ends in failure.)

When they finally step outside, Cloud stumbles as the strong wind batters at him, tugging impatiently at his feathers. Sephiroth steadies him with a strong arm.

“Be careful,” Sephiroth murmurs, and his words are torn away by the wind as well. He keeps his arm wound tightly around Cloud’s waist as they make their way down a snaking path of shattered stone floating in a carpet of clouds. Occasionally, Cloud catches glimpses of the ground far, far below, scorched and gray and lifeless. Something in him shudders and recoils at the view, and he grips Sephiroth’s arm, hard.

“What’s wrong?” Sephiroth asks, soft and concerned.

“I’m… That’s…” Cloud swallows, hard. “That’s”—(a terrible sight)—“a long way down.”

“ … It is, yes.”

“A fall from this height could kill someone,” falls from Cloud’s mouth, numb and unbidden.

Sephiroth’s arm tightens around Cloud’s waist. “Don’t worry,” he reassures. “I won’t let you fall.”

“I know,” Cloud says, (sorrowfulresentfuldespairing) grateful. He takes one step forward, slipping out of Sephiroth's grasp, then another, and another, feet drawn by some magnetic pull until he stares down at his toes hanging over empty air.

It's a familiar sight, Cloud thinks, then promptly forgets (again).

“Cloud?” Sephiroth’s voice sounds distant and faded, and it must be the wind again, Cloud muses as he stands on the edge of forever, body swaying forward, then back again, then forward, then back, then forward, further forward, until he

tilts

headfirst into eternity.

“Cloud!” A cry rings out, carried up

and up

and up

by the wind until it dwindles to nothing.

“Your wings—spread your wings—!”

-

Sephiroth catches him.

The next day, Cloud returns to his position watching the window; Sephiroth watches Cloud.

The day after that, the window is obscured by a heavy curtain. Cloud never brings the birds up again, the memory lost, forgotten, buried. Hidden, carefully sequestered away, a precious treasure.

Sometimes, though, when Cloud is asleep, Sephiroth will pull back the curtain and scour the empty sky with a deep frown. There hasn’t been a single living thing left on Gaia since Sephiroth’s rampage.

There had never been any birds.

[fanflames]

" You must excuse my curiosity in matters like these; there is little opportunity for any citizen in Belobog to dream of the stars and travel to make such a reality but... do you do this often? Venture into the unknown, utterly unaware of what perils might await you there? ⸺ I imagine it to be terribly daunting, no matter the routine. " as a military leader first & everything else second, she certainly would know; how various agonies & anxieties would never wane, no matter how much of a second nature the battle for survival would ultimately become. Nevertheless, her thoughts & emotions tied therein are a secret she keeps, offering amicassador a gentle smile instead, attention flickering towards documents in front of her instead for a moment ere fixating other's gaze once again. " That said, allow me to properly welcome you to the City of Everwinter, Lady Tingyun. "

AN UNEXPECTED LETTER, for @zajevre .

        she had to admit that it was a bit nervewracking coming here by herself.  especially after the crisis on the luofu,  it was a miracle that yukong  (  begrudgingly  )  allowed her to head this mission.  there was little information on jarilo-vi to brief herself on;  tingyun knew of the snowy plains and she knew only one city inhabited the world.  fragments of intel like this was gleaned from the careless ramblings of march 7th and stelle.  despite this,  it was surprising to see just how empty and just how frigid this place truly was.

        their circumspective nature was more than understandable.  this was not the first government to hesitate in matters of commerce and it would not be the last.  however,  she more than appreciated the welcome that the madam guardian herself set for her.  within belobog's frosty roads there was warmth to be found in their culture,  remarkably formal and reserved but otherwise polite even towards a newcomer such as herself.  guards galore were stationed at all sides of her as she navigated her first days here.  a timely audience with the illustrious bronya rand was a greatly appreciated perk,  as well.

        clawed hands cradled the tea cup offered to her upon her arrival.  the steam radiating off of liquid's surface was welcomed in earnest,  its ghost leaving behind wafts of something herbal and floral.  a long,  generous sip filled her chest with a much needed warmth.  a relieved sigh,  then came the guardian's burning questions.

        "  you must excuse my curiosity in matters like these;  there is little opportunity for any citizen in belobog to dream of the stars and travel to make such a reality but...  do you do this often?  venture into the unknown,  utterly unaware of what perils might await you there?   ⸺   i imagine it to be terribly daunting,  no matter the routine.  "  bronya's speech was remarkably formal and calculated in a way that was to be expected of a political leader.  an even rhythm,  careful anunciation,  and virtually no tonal fluxes to be heard.  any diplomat would be truly impressed by the tact in which she expressed herself.  

        though   ...  somebody as practiced as herself in the art of perception would notice that this question was outside the realms of business.  interesting,  but not something she felt the need to dwell on.  tingyun smiled and replied back with similar tact.  "  please,  i don't mind at all!  it's truly an honor to be sat before the madam guardian herself in the first place,  let alone to have her interested in my adventures.  to answer your question:  yes,  i make trips to other planets quite frequently.  though,  it has been a while since i've gone to a new planet.  helm master yukong,  my superior,  has been apprehensive of sending me out after our own stellaron dilemma,  so it is incredibly exciting to be out in the galaxy again! "

        her rambling came to a natural close as she took the opportunity to sip tea once more,  the brew notably cooler than her first sip.  even the office was colder than what she was used to out on the luofu.  lashes fluttered from cup to companion   ⸺   she noted the soft,  unwavering smile upon bronya's features as her eyes smoothed over the endless documents that bordered her desk.  a fine desk it was,  large with rather sturdy construction from what she could tell.  a subtle nod guided her gaze back to tingyun's.

        "  ...  that said,  allow me to properly welcome you to the city of everwinter,  lady tingyun.  "  bronya graciously said.  she noted that her tone became the slightest bit colder,  not out of malice but out of scripted obligation.  

        the foxian's line of sight gravitated towards the grand,  open window at their left.  from here she could see the buildings of the city,  the vendors' booths,  the trollies,  and the people who have spent their entire lives in this city.  she thought of how they would never live to see this planet dethawed and flourishing.  for a moment,  tingyun thought of how perhaps she might if this all worked out.  what an oddly sobering thought.

        it was as she said,  though.  jarilo-vi truly was unique in every way.  with somebody so young and bright at it's helm taking initiative the way bronya rand has,  even an outsider could find inspiration in her vision.  tingyun turned back to her companion and smiled warmly.  left fist met right palm in the luofu's traditional greeting.   "  and allow me to thank you,  madam guardian,  for your exceptional hospitality.  i am thrilled to experience your beautiful city for the first time.  let the relationship between our homes flourish under your leadership.  "

[crimsonandcarbon-a]

KH Verse Drop

[Tagg: Heartless Avarice]

Name: Avaritia, Lin Alias(es): Lady Avarice, Avara, Monster, Abomination, Imposter Age: Unknown Species: Unknown Heartless (Experimental entity with a synthetic heart) Height: 5’5 (human), 6’0 (beast), 3 1/2 ft (weakened) Weight: ---- Hair: Black Eyes: Yellow Skin: Pale, with coal colored second skin from the neck down

Distinctive physical characteristics: While she looks mostly human, Avara’s body is stained black, and her hands and feet terminate in flexible red claws rather than normal fingers and toes. Her eyeballs at times are pits of darkness rather than white, with the distinctive glowing yellow iris/pupils of a heartless. These features make it difficult for her to blend in with normal humans, and so she spends a lot of time hiding in the shadows and watching people in those times when she can sneak away from her keepers. In addition, Avara’s heartless emblem is white, and acts as a seal and a stabilizer for her synthetic heart.

{The price of a human soul}

Beyond some hazy memories and foggy impressions, Avara knows nothing about life before she became what she is, only that when she opened her eyes for the first time, there were many strangers standing around her, muttering in approval that the ‘process was a success’.

She does not and may never admit to knowing about the young woman who's face she bears, or the strange act of love that brought her into the world. A princess taken by the darkness who's family would have given anything to bring her back. A family who tried to rebuild her lost heart and created what they called an abomination instead. She ruined them all while wearing the face of the one they lost.

The top scientists of their world were given the task; rebuild a missing heart or create a new one for their lost child. Her heartless kept in containment until the work could be done, more than a year passed as they tried over and over again to distill or synthesize the essence of a human soul. When at last she awoke, they believed they had done the impossible. A heartless restored to their previous state. Their incomplete knowledge of heartless held no concept of nobodies or what they meant for the little black beasts.

Only a moment after she awoke, their creation transformed from her beautiful human appearance into a monster. A feral beast that destroyed many of the people around her. The King lost his life to her and the Queen had to be rushed out of the room, screaming all the while that they'd created nothing but a horror. An affront both to nature and to the memory of her daughter.

{A false heart}

Her rampage came to a halt at last when all her energy seemed to be expended and the creature could not even maintain a human like appearance anymore, reduced to a small and weak form that was more easily contained. Even this was something of a struggle though. Small and tired, she was still fast and slippery and gave them as much of a chase as she could muster.

The Queen wanted nothing more than for this creature to be destroyed, but those who remained saw too much wasted effort and research in such a decision and instead kept her once again in containment, planning to study her further. They hadn't failed they thought, there was something there that caused her to resemble the princess, after all.

By putting her through a second series of experiments and imprinting her with a special seal they finally achieve some small measure of stability in her transformation. They attempted then to ascertain if she was indeed the lost princess, only to find that she refused any familiarity with them, claiming no memory of her life before they woke her that fateful day. Moreso, although she looked mostly human now her body seemed to be covered from the neck down in a coal colored second skin, with monstrous dark hands and feet ending in red claws. Her sometimes appear dark, lit by the yellow glow of her heartless irises.

With the feral beast was still lurking within her there were times when even the seal could not keep her clear minded. The transformation occurred seemingly at random, as she attempted to devour any and every living heart within her reach, and with the Queen still against the entire project the woman was kept under lock and key. Her behavior both when stable and not eventually earned her the moniker “Lady Avarice”, acting spoiled and ravenous despite her claims to not remember her life as royalty.

{The scent of freedom}

Not until some time after her sealing and confinement did they become aware of the beings called nobodies. A new and rising threat contending for their attention with the already rampant heartless. With forces spread thin and in need of more defenses against their enemies the royal court came to the decision that their experiment could prove useful in the fight. She'd be allowed to roam outside of her cage from time to time to combat these monsters, but only as the beast. The Queen forbade her to be seen wearing her human appearance.  She would be released to hunt the nobodies and heartless until exhaustion, when her form became small and she could be contained once again.

For all these restrictions, Avara enjoyed her time being feral. During those times, when she was let loose from her cage she could remember albeit dimly the smell of fresh air and the exciting change of scenery that followed. Even if the memories were half formed and blurry. She was used to those kinds of memories really. Hardly different from the ones of that past everyone else seemed to be so much more interested in.

There was something else too, something that she never spoke of to the guards who stood outside her birdcage-like prison and often mocked her not-quite-human appearance. She felt things. They had said that she couldn’t. That a being with a fake and malformed heart could never feel anything real. But she did. She felt hurt by their words. She felt longing for freedom. She felt a dull ache from the seal that kept her mostly under control.

The Lady often wondered what other things she’d feel if she were allowed to roam free.

Powers and Abilities:

HeartBreak – At times (particularly when the seal on her synthetic heart weakens) Avara will shift from her normal human state to that of a vaguely animalistic heartless. Her main body being all black and with yellow glowing eyes. She has an emblem marking her chest and bright red claws  on her hands and feet, as well as a while cloud-like mane running from her shoulders down to her back, trailing off into a kind of tail at the end. While the emblem seems to work as a seal, wisps of darkness can often be seen coming off of her body, and even her antennae tend to dissipate into smoke at the ends.

In this form, Avara gains an additional claw on the inner side of each ankle, resembling a raptors claw and functioning in much the same way, allowing her to rend enemies viciously with her feet.

Heart/Keyblade sense – Like all heartless, Avara can sense and is also drawn to the presence of hearts, and the keyblades that release them. When these things are near she can have trouble keeping herself under control, as she is fighting against a natural urge possessed by all heartless. She may not try to take the heart, but she can become a bit grabby and intrusive on an individual.

Shadow walk – When she is weakened and small, Avara has the ability to take on a 1-dimensional ‘shadow form’ just as a pure heartless can, she doesn’t use this ability often, and whether or not she can access it outside of her smaller form remains to be seen. While in this form she can move about freely, and cannot be attacked. However she cannot attack others either, she must come out of the shadows for that.

Dark Corridor – Avara has the ability to create and pass through dark portals connecting the various worlds together. These are used mainly for traveling, and cannot be utilized in a combat scenario.

[rhotdornn]

Fennel: For a drabble about my muse being strong in a way that they usually aren’t. (Ahtun-Swars)

Long had the day grown, and longingly so did it stretch into the evening… For even as the crown of the honeyed sun spilled across the horizon, streaks of light would not be permitted passage; nay, the thick, obscuring, hallowed waft of smog and ash crept up from the riled tide, crawling its ghastly path across the hull of a battered vessel, now rolling upon the seething current. Torn sails snapped harshly against the furling gale, as it harrowed the blackened heavens above–the crackle of aetherial tension swelling with thunder within the rolling blanket of clouds. The waters portended naught but death, for beyond their surface lurked an eerie, unbecoming, inky coat–swallowing any and all trace of turquoise and emerald that oft sloshed vibrantly through Aerslaent’s crystalline Seas. It had always been the same, sonorous song that flirted with the wind, and carried low upon its brow, across every nook and cranny it could flit through. 

“Undulávë ilyë…Tier lomé…Ar caita mornië…”

The bark of the ship once shone with the splendour of ivory, of a great bark of gray make, now tarnished and consumed by dust and smolder as the plumes of hearty flames gnawed away upon its beauty, leaving behind naught but debris and ash to honour its lost memory. At the very front of the vessel’s bow, a majestic figurehead still stood to endure, fashioned in the likeness of a queenly swan with folded, pristine wings of white.

“Sindanóriello…I falmalinnar imbë met…Oialë…” 

Despite the calamitous winds that ailed the waters on low and skies on high, only but one voice lulled throughout the catastrophe, lingering with a harmonic drift of the mirth it incurred. Upon the very shipdeck, a sight that rivaled such tranquility had danced between each flick of ember, and every breath of fire that scorned the planks around it. A male, crimson-crowned Sea Wolf knelt at the mercy of the elements, both of his wrists snared within the malicious grip of two ropes. The light within his infernal hues had long since dissipated, and the breath once filling his leonine breast had long since departed, robbed by the crestfallen Wolf’s own, waning hope. Upon his brow sat naught but dismay–dismay, and a welling fount of anguish and agitation, festering all the deeper as his irises strove upwards, offering little more than seething daggers towards the culprit of the song.

Long, pale legs moved to sweep noiselessly across the charred trail, tactfully slow, and woefully bright. In the heart of this surreal darkness, the figure before him shimmered with an ephemeral gleam. A gown fitted with an opalescent plumage rolled past its shoulders, its waist and knees–yet further than it fell the specter’s keen, twin-blades–light, Elven blades fastened with a disciplined grip within each palm. The glint of their razors saw them tipped low, and their approach tantalized him further, for it had been slow, drawn out and scathing upon his mind. A searing, incandescent spectral luminosity swept across their metal, bathing them in the silvery sheen of the Moon–despite its presence on that eve.

“At the edge of darknessHope is whispering still…Tender, unerringGently stirring…”

Where the lips of the feminine voice bespoke hope, his own brows would feel the encroaching twitch of irritation spur them lower, his own voice bellowing out in a resentful concession of victory.

“…Aye. AYE. I may not remember your ilk, or the song–but by now, Althyk knows I may recite it by heart. Ever the same… Withered song… Upon the same, blackened waters… Lulling the same, demolished ship…” Try as he might, further focus would ill avail him–for the radiance of her cloaked garments dazzled with the glint of stars, sewn within each strand and thread of her armaments. “Always the same withered song. Always the same ending… Yet both of us know how this dance closes… How this nightmare, like so many afore it, meets its end.” Long were the nights of robbed sleep, and numerous inbetween–for in the realm of reality, nary a wink of sleep could he at certain nights obtain–and on such nights, the full Moon would strike out across the celestial stardom, spreading its enthralling shimmer across all creation it touched.

“Memories unfurling in the mindWarm wind from a far, forgotten country…”

The star-embellished mistress would see her step come to a halt, as her blades stilled but a few ilms before the Sea Wolf; the edge of the right razor slipping beneath his sweat-addled neck–as if to beckon his attention upwards in a twisted fashion.

“…Long left behind.”

Those last few sentiments… This haunting dreamscape would, unlike those that preceded it, stand apart from the rest. The harmonic song… For a miracle, he finally understood it–for he lingered in a dream, and now only did his mind grow aware of it. And as he came to, so too would a spark of memories ignite his spirit–where he once felt resentment’s sting and guilt’s pang, now he saw far more clearly; as if the fog grew thinner between her and him, and the ash fell back in disarray at the first tuft of the zephyr that rose to greet the vessel.

“Wandering the empty roadIn twilight’s silver shade…”

The twin blade of the blinding shade rose in tandem, yet with a promise far more malicious–akin to every dream, it meant to struck as the last verse dispersed from her lips, in an effort to strike the bound Rainlander low, and cast him away from the reprieve of sleep’s hold, once more. And again. And again.Until no more sanity remained, and he wholly surrendered to his grief.Until his days were fully spent, and his mind lost to madness, spurred by the decree of insomnia.Yet, at last, he finally saw clear.This had never been a song wholly about him.

“Following the hidden paths…Lonely and afraid.”

And as her merciful blade fell in a swift, traverse cut, ribbons of sanguine would splatter from the Wolf’s husk…

…Yet not from his throat, into which the specter sought to sink her steel.

The binds that held his wrists at bay just now fell to the wasted floorboards, with a dull, lifeless ‘thump.’ Within his left palm would he clutch her moonlit blade, and within his eyes would he brandish a mounting, volcanic flare. The moment she sought to assert her other blade fully into his neck, it would find no purchase–for his right hand had already laid claim to the wrist which commanded it, driving it ever so further away.

Her last verse–the last hint of the song she’d always torment him with ere finishing his voyage within sleep’s embrace prematurely, had now been sung… Yet the only bleeding fell in rivulets from the palm which clung to her weapon.

For now it had been his turn. And his booming, proud bass would thrum away with a quiet, low in volume yet poised in the notes it carried across the four, scattered winds. The dread that once swam before his eyesight now rolled back akin to a fragile curtain, and dead in her eye would he strike out his stare.

“…Let the sunlight free the heartForever bound to roam.”

The hand which gripped her wrist offered a far shorter kindness in turn-for in the aftermath of its toppling strength, the specter would gasp at her own palm twisting–and him commanding her own blade into her abdomen in no more than one seamless motion–and clean cut.

In the aftermath of it all, only a single twinkle flirted with his attention–a bright, illuminated trinket that shone with an auburn light, fading away as she did–in a swarm of depleting, cascading starlight, rolling away along the shipdeck–and plunging peacefully back into the calming waves beneath. Their slosh and tossing would cease, for the waters once more flourished with a pristine clarity, drawing unto their surface more vibrant hues of aquatic green and blue.

As he perched his glare upon the cloud-veiled sky, the pallor of starlight would answer his gaze; for the skies began to drive back the tides of blackened clouds, and before him, under the muster of the zephyr, a wholly familiar, once-forgotten star would become known. Perched upon the highest vault of the heavenly abode, it shone with only four tails, and vied with none for dominance of the skies; for its light blazed ardently, and its radiance shone the brightest.

The Nortyrstyr. The Northern Star of Hyrthyml, rumored to make itself known to those that sought it out without malice seducing their intent, or rotting away their hearts.

And under its hallowed gaze would his nightmare-turned-dream come to a close–and when he arose, his limbs would not betray him to fatigue, nor would his mind be addled with a longing for succor and reprieve. No, hurriedly would he disembark from the safety of his bedside, sorting through his armaments–yet as he browsed his wardrobe, he’d briefly cease, as his palm wound up against his aged, weather-worn leather jacket–only to harshly shove it aside, despite the small wrinkle of a frown it instilled his sweat-laden visage with–and retrieve his blade, tucked away within a hidden compartment in the closet.

He had finally claimed that which he clung to–which he sought after without knowing it all along.

He had finally come to make peace with himself, and drew upon enough strength in a way he never could on his own, once upon a time.

He had finally forgiven himself.

And for that, the spoils of his rewards counted his resurfacing, mending memory once-fractured… As well as the true, final verse of the song.

“…And let the waking morning findThe weary traveller returning home.”

[A-spicy drabble prompts, mama mia!]

[denofbloodandlove]

The Decay of Persephone Part 1

Please do not remove tags, do not steal, do not plagiarize, don’t be a douche canoe wrapped up in a blue waffle and take what came from me  The Decay of Persephone  Part One: The First Sight Time Frame: Unknown  Black leather wrapped gently over the God of the Underworlds feet, soft straps cradled hardened skin; skin that was burnt black in some places from the fires of his Realm. The leather, soft and subtle meshed with the arches and curves, hugging his flesh tightly as he walked among the greenery of his Brothers Realm; Zeus, the reason why Haides had even desired to visit this Realm. With every heavy step he took it brought him closer and closer to the grand palace of his brother, the God King of all Kings. However, Haides was going to take his time. Time he never had, for his life was surrounded with decay, around bleakness and death. His world was made up of dark skies filled with vibrating lights. Lights that twisted and flickered like that of a candle flame, from dark to a mesmerizing light only to be snuffed out by another bout of thick, heavy clouds sent to snuff out all the giving light. But here, here in the light of Zeus' realm he did not have that, the silent screams of the dead did not prevail over all things. Here, he was met with the sounds of birds chirping, of animals moving about in the lower brush, the sounds of hand maidens drifted upon the wind. A wind that as it touched his skin felt cool, not a scorching, seething turmoil that left the marks of black sand as it whipped across his face. Nay, this was what heaven was like, a heaven that he was so callously ripped from by his family. Zeus and Posidean had treacherously betrayed him to take their own places in the realms of sky and water, leaving his black soul to the Neatherealms of the dead. True, his soul and dead heart felt at home near the rivers of Styx and the fiery river Priphlegethon, a flowing mass of heat that warmed his cold skin. However here, in this vast and lush garden,  he could feel what the sun actually felt like. He could feel the cool breeze flow through his himation. He could enjoy how that same breeze would lift the chlamys, allowing it to flutter behind him by the will of Gaia not that of the deadly acrid winds that floated with Kharon as he ferried the souls of millions to his lands. Nay, here, he could pretend he knew peace. And he would pretend for as long as possible, for his time was limitless and the day was as young as the maidens that ran through the vast plains just ahead of his wanderings. Maidens that he was increasingly interested in with every dead step he took. Aye, if one would be following him, they would see death indeed following Haides, for the Underworld traveled with him; with a single foot fall, the green lush life would become stricken and decay would follow, leaving a blackened mark in the shape of his leathers. Stopping his trek, Haides wanted to stay here.  Stay in the green.  To ignore the fact that his body left Gaia soiled with death in his wake.  He wanted to ignore the ash that floated away from his footfalls as he moved.   His black eyes closed slowly, the orbs rolling back into his brain as his head tilted back slightly and his lungs filled with warm air.  Air that had no hint of rot and decay.  Brimestone and acid wafted away from his lungs as he inhaled so deeply it actually hurt his massive chest.   All the unpleasant odors that made up his home melted away into nothing. That nothing was replaced by the smell of millions of flowers.   Purple and pink aconite mixed with agallis.  Roses and asphodels drifted upon the wind around him as he breathed in and out to memorize this place.  A wind that wrapped around his body like a lover her would never have.  It caressed his skin, glided over his nerve endings. Sensations like no other, one that lifted the tiniest of hairs along his muscled legs and arms.  It was as if his body was rising to the winds kisses, needing more of it, for it was not made of the torridity he was accustomed to.  Nay, this was exquisite.  He felt as if he was in the Elysian Fields, a place for souls to find peace and happiness amongst their own.  Haides knew however, he was not amongst his own, never would be, but for this one reprieve he would banish the thoughts of being alone and cherish these fleeting moments.  For that is what his feeling where, but fleeting moments in a life time of hell. Stopping, Haides held his hands out slightly on either side of his form, his fingers splayed out as the wind pushed the plant life against his calloused palms, he could feel the softness of the flowers petals swipe lackadaisically against him.  The petals were cold against his hot skin as they powdered his hand with golden pollen, leaving his flesh tingling with the grains of life. Haides just stood there, in the field of beauty, absorbing the heat and magnificence of a world he rarely saw when he heard the first peals of laughter ring out.   The sound was like nothing he had ever heard before this day, its cadence lifted the very existence with joy.  So much so, that as he listened, the tiniest of hairs on his body began to lift, the skin on his forearms shivered from horripilation as his eyes slowly opened to seek the source of such beauty.  Haides’ hands closed and moved away from the flowers that had once brushed his palms and were now laying shriveled and burnt on the ground, his fingers curled into fist as anticipation filled his every cell.  He must find the source, his thoughts left that of this beautiful land and like a waterfall, cascaded into one mission:  her. Turning in circles, Haides soon left his rooted spot and began to trudge the land.  He no longer cared about the wind or the sun across his face, nor the sweet scents of the flowers that pollenated the air, nay, he only cared for finding and claiming the sound.   He was Haides, God of the Underworld and he would have what he wanted, take what he desired and in this moment, he desired her.  His thoughts stopped on that last verse as he came to a grassy knoll. Green, yellows, purples, oranges and blues swirled together as if Gaia herself had beckoned him herself to this exact place.   His brows drew down into determination as the wind lifted and rose, sweeping towards him unseen, a wind that carried her fresh Spring scent and a laughter so pure it nearly brought him to his knees.   A beauty of such caliber she made the mighty Aphrodite appears to be a hag.   Her hair flared about her in waves or golden reds, as if she were made of a sunset, a sunset that sat upon skin so creamed she glowed like the iridescence of pearls. The chemise she adorned left nothing to his imagination as the young kori plucked her flowers.  Her curves were bountiful as her limbs moved slowly and with precision. It seemed the sun itself had taken a love to her as it shone its rays, gifting Haides with a silhouette of bountiful curls between her legs and small darkened areolas. Young and bountiful, his young maiden tempted him, called to a fierce desire. A yearning to claim and take her, to have her with him for all time by his side.  She would be a Queen, would be his servant in death, by his side in the Underworld.   Haides was lost in time and space as he watched her bend and straightened with her ever growing bouquet of flowers.   Her arms never seemed to fall heavy from the abundance of petals as she drifted in and out of the different fields, her smile would brighten when she plucked another stem from the Mother setting atop the others.  Haides was obsessed, captivated with just the smallest of movements, each one like a private gift, specifically for his viewing.   But once never did she look towards the Dark God for she was so entranced with the life in her hands she did not feel the death at her feet.  His mind whirled of possibilities of claiming the Kori, thoughts so perverse and hated filled his every thought on how he would take her.  Must be act forceful? With calm? Or with wrath?  For he would take her, no matter her thoughts, she would be his.   As he pondered his ordeal, Haides missed the outside beings roaming around, missed the Goddess walking towards his future Queen. So immersed was he that it took him minutes to realize that Demeter had entered his hunt and was calling out to his maiden.   His hearing focused on a name that he would covet, Persephone, she called over and over until his maiden finally ran towards Demeter, calling her Mother.   Embracing one another, the two women toyed with the blossoms in hand, turning their back to him.  His eyes narrowed as her Mother whisked his prize away.   A burning anger sizzled through his veins as he watched his Queen leave his eyesight. And with no other thought, Haides flashed from his green stoop into that of his brothers palace.  Zeus would help him achieve his goal, for he would have the beautiful Persephone by his side, under him, atop him, and any other way he so desired for all eternity, no matter what.  

[jjillekkot]

Forehead to Forehead. Hand on Knee. Kiss on or around Eye. Hesitant Touch (the care for you part).

affection meme // @estrifes

It’s like despite her best intentions to understand the situation, nothing is ever enough to appease the other members that she belongs just like everyone else. This is a rag-tag group of people anyway– only Tifa and Barret are the original members of this neo-AVALANCHE, and yet they continue to treat her as an outsider. Didn’t Red come from a lab? Cid from a collapsing rocket? Vincent from a coffin? She might’ve sprung herself into the party, yes, but what makes her so different, to be treated like an outsider at all times?

If anything, it’s why she doesn’t try as much, especially after Aeris’ death, to appease the group. She just says what’s on her mind, unfiltered, the blatant truth regardless of how painful it might be for anyone to hear. No one’s sheltered her, so why she should she accommodate to them? She owes no one in this group anything.

Except for Cloud, perhaps. Because she’s not as self-serving as she seems– she’s looking for a purpose, a reason. Godo’s not really a leader, she’s just her dad. And Wutai’s important, and so are the gods, but they’re so big and far and she’s here, right now.

And so is he, with forehead pressed against hers. And it makes her smile, it makes her shiver, makes her even want to wince. Because it’s too intimate, too close, too kind compared to how she feels with everyone else. But she’ll take it, if it’s the only thing she can get.

prompt: Forehead to Forehead– I’m here / understand.

She’s only called him a billion times, desperate for an answer, a text, a something. She swears she didn’t bring the Midgar Sickness home with her, didn’t even know what it was or that it was A Thing until suddenly people started showing up ill and they realized Yuffie had only come home from the East ever so recently. 

Damn the details, like how she was there for several weeks before symptoms began to arrive, before people in droves all started getting sick at once, even in areas that she hasn’t even visited yet since she’s arrived back in Wutai. There’s no celebration for her for saving home, saving the Planet even: just the interior of a cell, and then later a dungeon, in confinement. They say it’s quarantine, to keep her safe from the others– but if that were truly the case, wouldn’t she be locked in her room? Or even the apartment, where she was as a teen? This is punishment, at its most obvious level, until she can manage to come up with another solution, risk her life another way to save the people who time after time show how ungrateful they can be, how they take such prophecy of their redemption for granted.

She’d think she’d hate it, sometimes, if she didn’t have anywhere else to go. So she fixes it towards her father instead, works on formulating a way out of this.

And by Da Chao, when Cloud finally answers, she could nearly cry– but she holds out, all the way until she finds him in Aeris’ church. And it’s only then, with his hand placed firm on her knee, that she allows herself to fall apart.

prompt: Hand on Knee– I am concerned for you.

Cloud has it, too.

Cloud has the Midgar Sickness– or geostigma, as they’re calling it. And it’s not just in Midgar and Wutai, it’s everywhere. She’s glad Cloud is more well-versed than she is about it. Something about how the Lifestream is angry and the Jenova cells that infected it. It all doesn’t make a lot of sense to her– she still doesn’t get Jenova, all things considered. That’s never fit in her world view, and it’s not like anyone’s sat down and explained the situation to her. That’s why she’s struggling to fit all the pieces together, like why it’s happening all of a sudden and all these other weird things that are supposedly occurring all the while, like the mobilization of the Turks and the activity in the Northern Crater.

She doesn’t have it. And the only solution she can really come up with for now is materia– because it has been, in her experience, both the cause and the solution for many of the issues in her life. It both destroyed her nation and saved it, it’s capable of destroying the world and saving it. So she’s not too far-fetched in her assumption that it, too, could potentially solve this mess. And it’s not like they’ve got any other leads.

But all the materia they’ve got hasn’t been successful in healing people– she knows, she’s tried it back at the medical camps back home. Her only hope is to check out the materia cave not too far from Wutai, because Huge Materia and Raw Mako is definitely more concentrated than any of the stuff she’s got hiding away. But it’s a long shot, and she doesn’t feel confident in this plan. And now that she knows that Cloud’s got it too, she feels even worse.

But here he is, pressing his lips against her eyes. She must be crying again. Yuffie doesn’t even feel the tears run down her cheeks, but she is aware of the warmth of his skin, and how close proximity he must be. It’s easy to let it get to her, how genuine and tender Cloud can be at times. And how, if things were different, maybe she’d see that side of him more often. 

However, there’s work to be done. So when he backs away, she wipes her face clean of tears, offers a small smile. 

She’s gotta go.

prompt: Kiss on or around Eye– I don’t want you to be sad.

How many years has it been now? Since they’ve last had an adventure together? At least two. It’s easy for her to lose track of time. She’s into the full swing of things, taking responsibility for her country and all. And as much as she’d like to leave, to travel the world like she did so freely before– it’s difficult. That sense of obligation to her country has only grown with her time there; and now that the people accept her, and she’s fully adopted her role as crown heir, she feels more drawn than ever to stay home, to only travel as business requires.

And in these days of peace, it doesn’t seem like she’s got much wiggle room for pleasure trips. But the PHS is always at her side, and she tries to keep updated with everyone, via group texts and social media. She can see how big Marlene and Denzel are, or ensure that Vincent’s not spending his whole life brooding. Barret’s work in Corel looks successful, and if she’s lucky maybe she can strike a deal with him in terms of income and energy reserves. And wouldn’t that be nice, to get him and Marlene a real house, a place that actually might feel like home.

And Cloud? Well, he’s one to do things on his own. Not too much unlike herself. It’s a rare day, a special occasion if she doesn’t get his voicemail. Assuming he even has it turned on. And she’s surprised that he ever got that package, the Closed sign for his delivery business. She wonders sometimes, does he use it? Does he roam the world on Fenrir, to try to live that life he’s finally been granted? Does he enjoy the freedom she once had? 

So it’s a real shock to her when she sees Cloud in her city’s streets. She must’ve jumped, because his reach while at first seeming confident lacks such bravado as it makes contact against her shoulder, his touch light. But she grins, because she wouldn’t have imagined the swordsman turned delivery boy arriving here of his own volition. But she’ll take it. She’ll take what she can get.

prompt: Hesitant Touch– I still care for you.