#Wind and Warriors are in the reincarnation camp

[yashahimewasamistake]

A lot of fics have Sun having a complicated relationship with Hylia....and it makes me imagine the Links having a complicated relationship with the Hero's Spirit.

What if some Links are like "the Hero's Spirit is manipulating me!!!"

Other Links are like "The Hero's Spirit is just reincarnation, isn't it?"

And other Links are like "It's a metaphor, you know. It isn't that deep"

Meanwhile Sky is having a crisis because he doesn't know how reincarnation works, if it's even a real thing for people like him, and what if he is manipulating the rest of the Links in some way????!!!!

[leftoverpages]

Underneath the Steel

Pairing 𓅪 Benjicot "Davos" Blackwood × Targaryen!reader

Tags 𓅪 angst, brief character death mention, sleep paralysis, fluff at the end, reader uses she/her but no physical description, romance if you squint really hard

Notes: request by @ithilwen-aranel !

I need a fic where reader is a Targ princess and dragon rider and a known fierce warrior, like Visenya reincarnated level warrior but nobody knows that she has sleep paralysis. So she's marching with House Blackwood to Harrenhal and it's nighttime so they're in tents and her and Benji's tents happen to be next to each other. So that night she gets an attack/episode and he hears her muffled cries and sobs and he helps her get out of it and he finally sees the girl inside the warrior and he comforts her by showing that he has vulnerable sides too and stuff. (sorry if it's messy and chaotic haha but l WANT MORE FLUFF)

Wordcount 𓅪 1.4k

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

The cold wind swept through the camp as the soldiers of House Blackwood settled for the night. Tents dotted the landscape, bathed in the pale light of a crescent moon. Among them was a tent marked with the sigil of House Targaryen, on it, a dragon standing tall.

Inside, the Targaryen princess sharpened her blade, her mind a battlefield of its own. Known to many as a fierce warrior, she was often compared to Visenya Targaryen, a legend reborn. She had led her dragon into countless battles, her swordsmanship and ferocity unmatched.

But, as night fell and the camp quieted, a darker struggle loomed. Under her strong exterior, she had a secret as old as her lineage, a shadow that haunted her dreams-sleep paralysis. She had fought countless ennemies on the battlefield, but none of them were as terrifying as the darkness that gripped her in the night.

Benjicot Blackwood, the young lord of House Blackwood, laid restless in his tent. The march to Harrenhal stayed heavily on his mind. His thoughts drifted to the princess, their tents stood side by side. Her reputation preceded her, but Benjicot had seen glimpses of something beyond the warrior facade—a quiet sadness in her eyes.

As he drifted to sleep, muffled cries were heard in the night. Benjicot sat up, his senses sharp. The sounds were coming from the Targaryen tent. Frowning, he woke, moving silently.

Inside her tent, the princess was trapped. Her body laid motionless, her eyes open, her breath uneven. Shadows stood at the corner of her eyes, mocking her. She struggled, her heart pounding in her chest. The nightmare always started the same: she was in a big and empty field. Her dragon was nowhere to be seen. Panic rose up inside her as she realized she was alone.

Suddenly, the ground beneath her feet began to tremble. Shadowy figures emerged, their forms indistinct, as if they were made of smoke.

"You're weak," they hissed, with their chilling voices. "You will fail them all."

She tried to take her sword, but her body refused to move. Her limbs were turned to stone. She was desperate as the figures approached her, their cold fingers brushing against her skin, leaving trails of ice behind.

Her breath became faster. She could feel her heart pounding. The shadows wrapped around her, tightening their grip, almost suffocating her. She wanted to scream, to fight back, but she was unable to move, a silent plea for help left her lips.

As the nightmare continued, the shadows began to transform into faces she knew - friends, comrades, and family members, with twisted expressions.

"Why didn't you save us?" they cried, their voices full with anger. "You are supposed to be our protector!"

The guilt crashed over her as she could feel herself slipping, the line between reality and nightmare blurring. The faces closer, their features more distinct, their voices louder.

"Help," she managed to whisper, the word barely audible.

Benjicot pushed aside the tent flap. He saw her, tears streaming down her face.

Instinctively, he knelt beside her, his voice soft yet urgent.

"Princess, can you hear me?"

She did not respond, her eyes locked in a terror. Benjicot hesitated, then gently touched her shoulder. "Princess? You need to wake up."

The warmth of his touch broke through her. Slowly, she regained control, her body shaking as the paralysis faded. Her sobs flowing freely now.

She looked at Benjicot, her fierce demeanor shattered. "You saw..." He nodded, his eyes filled with understanding.

"Aye, I saw. And I see you, the real you. It's all right."

She wiped her tears, frustrated. "I hate this. I'm supposed to be strong."

Benjicot sat beside her. "Strength isn't just about physical strength or riding a dragon. It's about facing your fears." She looked at him.

"Do you ever feel like you're drowning in expectations?"

A bitter smile touched his lips. "Every day. The burden of leadership, the pressure to protect my people... it's overwhelming."

He reached out, encircling her in a gentle embrace. He held her close, offering his presence. "But in moments like these, you have to remember that we are not alone. We have allies who will stand by us, who will fight beside us."

She let herself breathe deeply, the tension slowly fading away. A reminder that vulnerability did not equate to weakness.

Their eyes met, a silent understanding between them. In that moment, they were no longer just a Targaryen and a Blackwood. They were two souls, each bearing their own scars. She took a deep breath as she sat there.

"I've fought battles, slain men twice my size, and ridden my dragon through storms of arrows. But this... this is different."

Benjicot nodded, his gaze steady. "It's the battles we fight within ourselves that are often the hardest. But you don't have to fight them alone."

She hesitated, vulnerability warring with her warrior's pride. "It's... it's been like this since I was a child. The shadows, the paralysis. I've learned to mask it, to be strong. But some nights..."

"Some nights, it's too much," Benjicot finished for her, his voice gentle. She nodded, grateful for his understanding.

"Yes. I fear that one day it might break me."

He squeezed her gently, his embrace a shield against her fears. He reached out, his hand covering hers.

"It won't. Because you're stronger than you know. And because you have allies who will stand by you, even in the darkest of nights."

She squeezed his hand, finding solace in his words. "Thank you, Benjicot."

"Always," he replied, his smile reassuring. "And if you ever need someone to sit with you through the night, you know where to find me."

"Thank you," she whispered.

He smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. She looked up at him, a silent plea in her eyes.

"Will you... stay with me?" Benjicot nodded without hesitation.

"Of course."

He settled beside her, his presence a calming presence. She lied closer to him, finding comfort in the rhythm of his breathing. In the safety of his arms, she finally allowed herself to drift into slumber, the weight of her fears lifted for the night.

As the first rays of sunlight broke over the camp, the princess took a deep breath, the remnants of her nightmare dissipating with the morning mist. Benjicot remained by her side, his presence a steady anchor.

As the camp stirred awake with the dawn, they lay intertwined. They were warriors, yes, but in each other's embrace, they found a refuge from the shadows that haunted them both.

As they walked under the dawn's embrace, they stood united, ready to conquer both the battles ahead and the shadows within.

[llamasofchaos]

Headcanons for the Links.

Sky 

A very tired badass. 

He has type 2 narcolepsy- it is mild enough that it doesn't cause too many issues but unfortunately other than trying to sleep he can’t do much for it. 

 Loves big birds. His loftwing is his favorite living being other than Sun so there is some affection for bigger birds that comes through. Through their journey he gets introduced to a bird that resembles a Shoebill and just spends hours watching them. 

One of the best swordsmen. 

For reference this is a Shoebill

Time

Uses verbal speech to communicate now that he has grown up and had a chance to move past some of his trauma, however when he is alone with Zelda/ Sheik they typically use only signs.

Only puts up with coocoos for Malon.

Find’s Wild’s Koroks to be incredibly amusing especially when he learns of their pranks. 

Has what they can figure out about the timeline and their places drawn out in a book he keeps with him. 

Warriors

Third oldest of the group- he is only about six months younger than Twilight but refuses to admit it.

Can’t understand Koroks language but he understands and is great with all kinds of fairies. 

Actually has three of the same scarf. He pretends to be completely attached to it like it is one of a kind but almost always has a spare in his bag. 

A one of the best swordsmen of the group. 

Totally uses his scarf to fight people. - he is constantly tripping and smacking enemies or the chain with it when he fights/spars. 

Legend

Actually loves getting his hair done and dying it but since meeting the captain and teasing him he has to be subtle about his appearance. 

Enjoys trading little knit knacks and items with Wild. 

He is actually pretty close with Sky and enjoys just existing with him during breaks and at camp before they go to bed. 

Twilight

Great Horseman. Before his adventure he was a great rider but during his adventure he became great at fighting while on Epona.

He can cook basic things like meat skewers, he knows how to make pumpkin soup but it is completely different from the one from skyloft and because of this he and Sky fight over which one is better every time someone suggests pumpkin soup.  

Sometimes forgets that he could turn back into a person to do tasks. This leads to Time and Four being extremely confused after finding him trying to open doors or the buckles on a bag with his paws. 

Wind

Loves to braid complicated sailor knot like braids into those with hair long enough- i.e. Four, WId, and legend. 

Before the chain's journey he was a terrible cook. He still isn’t an amazing one but after helping Wild cook usually at least one meal a day for months he has learned some valuable skills to show off for his grandma. 

Is amazing at throwing daggers. Learned to win a bet again’t Tetra and has been improving ever since. 

Hyrule

Terrible cook because he is half fairy. His fairy side mixes things up between what would taste good for hylians and what is full of magic/ good for fairies. 

Pyromaniac. He loves a good explosion but none of the Chain believe Wild when he says Hyrule is responsible for half of the explosions they cause. 

Amazing artist. His cave is covered in paintings made from ash and plants that depict his adventure or his nightmares. 

Four

Has the urge to tell the chain about how he is made up of four people at least once a week in the beginning. 

Contrary to popular belief he actually enjoys working with Wild to teach him more about weapon care and making a weapon he can’t break. 

Constantly knocks the knees out from under Warriors, Twilight, and Legend. Not because of short jokes but because he enjoys causing chaos like every reincarnation of the Hero’s spirit and seeing their faces as they go down is too priceless. 

Wild 

His world has soul paint, and he is covered in it but none of the others have it or can see it and it sometimes leads to awkward moments where he mentions some of the colors and the others just stare at him. 

One of the best swordsmen out of the group. He was beating full grown men as a child and he had months for his journey to remember/ relearn. 

Open book about the basics with the chain but most of his journey/ life is kept very private.

[ghostsong-wc]

This cat keeps reincarnating after they die. They keep their past memories, getting them back younger and younger each time. Not even StarClan knows why they keep reincarnating.

Poppy Stem: He was born in the mountains about the same time as Gray Wing and Clear Sky. He spent his kithood playing with them and grew to respect them, especially Gray Wing. When the time came, he decided to leave with the others to seek for a new home and lived in Tall Shadow's camp, later on Wind Runner's camp and then WindClan. One day, after the events of Dawn of the Clans, he was going to visit ShadowClan. He wasn't careful enough when crossing the road and got struck by a car. His spirit never seemed to leave his body and never joined StarClan.

Blaze Stripe: She was born into ShadowClan and lived carefree. In her adult life, she started getting memories of a life that wasn't hers. She convinced herself that she just had a very vivid imagination and ignored it all, living as a loyal ShadowClan warrior. She died in a border battle, when her opponent wouldn't give her mercy.

Slatespot: He was getting memories of two past lives and couldn't ignore it anymore. He figured that maybe StarClan had felt bad for him for dying so young so they gave him other chances. He took advantage of his past knowledge and rose to be RiverClan's deputy quite quickly. He succumbed to greencough during an epidemic.

Hayheart: He tried to live a normal life in SkyClan, ignoring his past memories. He was happy and social, until SkyClan was exiled. It hit him extra hard, as he had been there when the clans were formed. He became severely depressed and eventually stopped eating, which lead to him dying of starvation.

Honeyshade: Born into ThunderClan, she was shocked how nobody talked about or even seemed to remember SkyClan. She became doubtful and cynical of the clans, which only got made worse when Mapleshade was exiled. She vowed to raise her kits as "true warriors of the past" but died during giving birth to them.

Raincloud: She never truly recovered from basically losing her kits and became tokophobic for a long time. She figured that if she were overly religious, maybe StarClan would finally let her join them, so she became a healer. She managed to live all the way to elder age and retired, happy and satisfied. She was sure she would get into StarClan now and died of old age.

Shadepaw: She was utterly bewildered as to why she kept coming back unlike everyone else. She became paranoid and was easy prey for the Dark Forest. She was overly happy when she saw Mapleshade there, as she was the very rare familiar face, but was met with hostility. Mapleshade blamed her for not defending and siding with her during the exile. She eventually died during the Great Battle, where she struggled to pick a side.

Applespot: He was delighted to learn that SkyClan was back and became hopeful of the clans; maybe the Great Battle had changed them. The events of The Broken Code soon shattered that hope, though, and he left ThunderClan when Graystripe did. He vowed to never return and ended up freezing to death during a harsh winter.

Flameshine: He wasn't surprised to be back with the clans but he grew up cynical and depressed. After an accident left him permanently injured, he was forced into the healer's den, deemed unfit for warrior duties. He finally fully understood how the clans didn't seem to care to listen to disabled cats and threw them into the healer den. He became fueled by spite and did his duties as well as any cat. He succumbed to greencough while tending his patients.

Barkstar: She decided to climb up the ranks quickly and efficiently, becoming SkyClan's leader. She tried to change the clans and code that way but the other leaders only met her with hostility. She hoped StarClan would finally let her join them as she had done all she could. She lost her last life to a tree falling on top of her.

Coalpaw: He became increasingly anxious and depressed about reincarnating again and again. He was highly anxious during his entire kithood and the start of his apprenticeship. He couldn't handle it anymore. During a patrol, he saw a cliff and in desperation and hopelessness, he jumped.

Marshtail: Her previous lives had done the trick and she'd had enough of everything. She turned cold, angry and violent and didn't try to hide it from anyone. Eventually she tried to kill her leader but failed and was exiled. She died to a hungry fox attacking her.

Frosteyes: He understood that he needed to be more careful if he wanted to hurt the clans. He chose a clanmate who was popular but easy to manipulate and helped him rise the ranks and become leader. Frosteyes noticed that this clanmate clearly had feelings for him and used this to his advantage, easily getting the deputy rank. He continued to manipulate his new leader and convinced him to wage wars against the other clans. This way, the leader got the blame, while Frosteyes himself seemed like just a loyal deputy. A rival clan cat figured out he was the true cause of the wars and killed him in battle.

Russetleaf: She figured she could use her previous knowledge of healers to cause true disaster and so became a healer yet again. She managed to poison both her leader and deputy. A clanmate found out and killed her but she died grinning, knowing she had already caused a lot of trouble.

Ghostsong: Having lived 14 different lives, as both toms and she-cats, they abandoned gender all together. It didn't matter to them anymore. They act like a loyal SkyClan warrior but in reality want to bring suffering to all the clans, like they've suffered. They believe the clans need to be destroyed for all the awful things they've done in the past and keep doing. They are unstable, manipulative and have a god complex.

[ena-113]

♤♡♧◇ This is part two of FaeHyrule-1. Please read that before this. Or don't. ♤♡♧◇

“Ew. Sticky.” The voice of Fay drifted like an omen after being suddenly dropped like a hot potato into another Hyrule.

“Huh?” came the ever so elegant response.

It was weird a non-link was portaled with them. This never happened before.

A moment of confused and awkward silence passed before clarification came. "The surrounding magic: it’s sticky."

This was the answer to the question verbalized, but not the one they all had. Ordon stretched on around them, the eerie lull of night settling in on the heroes.

Twilight began to move and the others followed. All except Fay, who vanished without a sound before they could do a head count.

~

After setting up camp, Fay emerged. He looked slightly uncomfortable as he brushed off seemingly nothing from his tunic and pants and slowly sat to a croutch.

“I suppose it makes sense that you feel so sticky now.” Fay commented, staring right at Twilight.

“Umm… What?”

“What do you mean he feels sticky?” Legend inquired, “If anything I’d say he feels dusty from all the dirt and that pelt, but not sticky.”

“It's the magic. In the air, the ground, the plants, even in Twilight himself. It feels sticky and seems to leave a bit of residue on whatever it touches. It almost feels like eating too much කැරමල් … err, caramel…?”

Wild looked up from his boiling pot at whatever language seemed to resonate and ring in Legend’s head. Four tilted his head with a gleam in his eyes, and Time might’ve reacted based on a small twitch of his hand, but none of the others seemed to react.

“So, “ Fay spoke once more, “Can I have your names? And a possible explanation for this… kerfuffle?”

The chain all looked at each other, then zeroed in on Sky. To his credit, said hero did nothing but blink.

“Oh! Yes, of course! I’m Sky, that's Time, Twilight, Wild, Warriors, Legend, Four and Wind” Sky introduced, pointing to each as he said their names.

Fay expected the tethers of given names, that small twist of magic emulating small candlelights of lifeforce, indicating he now held a thread connected to that person’s existence. What he didn’t expect was how bright and strong the flames would be, not that he'd do anything with them.

“Although, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to tell you those are just nicknames.”

Fay hummed in interest, wondering what made nicknames so powerful, and turned to fully face Sky. The other brought his fancy sword from beside him and onto his lap.

“We’re actually all named Link, “ Sky continued, “Reincarnations of the hero’s spirit from across time. We all fought to save our lands, some of us more than once, but this is the first time we’re doing it as a group. Our current theory as to why we were all gathered is because Hylia needs us all to fight off some big, horrible evil. Though the only evidence we’ve got of that evil are the black-blooded monsters.” Sky seemed saddened by their lack of progress, but tried to hide it with a pleasant topic change.

“Enough about us, care to share anything interesting about yourself?”

Fay hummed, “Well I suppose it's only fair if we trade. I was also originally called Link. I do prefer Fay though. It’s been my name since I met Pond mother. Link never really quite fit.”

“Umm, ” Sky stammers, not sure what, if anything, to say to that. “Okay,” he settles for, the word coming out a bit hollow-sounding.

“So why Fay?” Wind, ever the conversationalist, steamrolls on through the others’ momentary social glitch.

“It’s easier to slip under the radar with. I don’t remember much being Link but sacred sunlight above do you know how worked up people got when they would hear my name? It’s like no one could decide whether I was a plague personified sent by their demons or a god of life that came to rid the world of all inconveniences.”

“Rude” sniffs Wind in a comical and overdramatic charade. Though with a blink, Wind’s face fell into shock.

“Wait! Link!? You’re a Link! Holy fuck no wonder!”

A small, pitiful “language…” came from Twilight. His voice was snuffed out by Wind’s jubilated rambling, though a snort and a couple huffs let him know he was, in fact, heard.

“So I’m guessing we don’t need the whole Fi ceremony?” Warriors joked.

“Good thing too, ” Sky said back in a more exasperated tone than Warriors would expect, “‘Cuz his hero title is Hero of Hyrule and I think that’s just a disaster waiting to happen.”

♤♡♧◇ Plot? What plot? I was supposed to have one of those? And be consistent? Huh? Anywho, my focus is on Hyrule being a fae, not a cohesive world. Juggling all nine of ‘em is hard, blink and you'll miss it time and four. Note: Fae language is google translated Sinhala, it's not accurate or exact in what I want to say. Sorry, it's just pretty. ♤♡♧◇ Kudos to my sister who beta read and helped me get words outa my brain. <3

[asleepyb0i]

SIKE I lied lol. Happy New Years! For the past few weeks, I’ve been working on my oc Warriors clan, Cliffclan! This is the first generation of Cliffclan cats, founded by Moonface. They are known for being large, frightening, but also innovative and knowledgeable that no other clan has tapped into. Cliffclan has the highest territory spread, blanketing the entirety of the mountain they call their home. No other clan goes near their borders, as they are more likely to freeze or get attacked by wild animals before they reach their camp. They actively distrust Starclan’s involvement, as they feel that they should simply observe, and not interfere with the lives of the living. In fact, they invented their own afterlife, where instead of joining Starclan, they reincarnate as the babbling creeks, the crumbling boulders, and the freezing wind that keeps outsiders from invading. By next year, I will make individual posts about the first generation, as each of them have so much lore surrounding them that wouldn’t fit in this singular post. https://www.instagram.com/p/Cm26dfjNIDP/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[bokettochild]

Little preview from my WIP about Time and Wind

“I’m thinking,” he corrects himself, and the pout-frown relents.  

“About?” 

“Reintarnation.” 

There’s a muffled giggle from his side, but two others from in camp that are a bit deeper and make him smile a bit as Wind jabs at his side playfully. “It’s reincarnation, Time.” 

“Reintarnation.” He repeats. 

“No, like this,” Wind pulls away to look him in the eyes properly, hands signaling a halt as they’re held between them. “Re.” 

“Re.” He repeats dutifully. 

“In.” 

“In.” 

“Car.” 

“Like a mine cart?” Because he can. 

Wind rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Yes. Car.” 

He co-operates this time, nodding his head. “Car.” 

“Nation.” 

“Like Hyrule?” 

“Time.” Wind’s face goes blank. “Please.” 

He chuckles, reaching out to ruffle the sailor’s hair. “Alright. Nation.” 

“Now all together.” Wind commands. “Re-in-car-nation.” 

“Reintarnation.” 

The sailor kicks him, and he isn’t fast enough to escape it. Past his own laughter, he can hear Legend whisper to Warriors, “elder abuse” and it makes both snicker into their blankets. Overgrown children, the lot of them, and he’s including himself in that. 

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober 2021 - October 11th - Drowning

Fandoms: Linked Universe

AO3

Warnings: Drowning

---

The portal appears early in the morning. Everyone’s eyes are still teary from yawns as it makes itself known near the edge of their camp in all of its mystical and unsettling glory.

Legend hates these portals, mostly because they make no sense. Granted, there’s a lot about their current travels that doesn’t make sense; ranging from the basic fact that they’re just about all reincarnations of each-other up to the more complicated fact that Legend was sure stories of the hero before him were tragedies ending in a child’s death… and yet that child is not only alive here, but the eldest and wisest of them all.

However, these portals make him uneasy for other reasons too besides them just being strange. It’s because they’re also dramatically unpredictable. These things initially lead them all to each other, after all. Legend much prefers to travel on foot during this unknown journey with the others. The world still shifts and changes as they travel, but it’s in subtle levels where they sometimes don’t even notice the world has changed until someone recognizes a landmark and points it out.

The portals take you and drop you wherever they want; time and place.

He’d much rather avoid them at all costs, despite them being the only clue they have to whatever is going on now. These portals started it all… the union of heroes, the infected blood, the strange battles with creatures that are far stronger than they should be.

“Do we go through?” Twilight asks, staring at the portal with a distrustful glare.

At least Legend knows Twilight is on his side when it comes to these things, even if it's mostly because of the anti-magic reasoning he has.

“It might lead us somewhere important,” Time says.

“Or another one of us,” Wild adds. “I know there’s more of us. I’ve heard stories of a hero ten thousand years ago who also fought the Calamity.”

Warriors voices his agreement while placing himself between the portal and Wind as the kid looks one ounce of enablement away from racing into the portal himself out of pure curiosity.

“We go through,” Time announces.

And that is that.

Sometimes Legend wishes he had the patience to be a leader, so then he could say no to things like this and everyone would listen.

But alas, the group finishes packing up their things and begins to head into the portal, one-by-one with Time leading the way. Legend falls behind the group, frowning as his stomach twists in nervousness. Wind jumps into the portal like a pit of stuffed animals is on the other side to break his fall. Luckily, Hyrule, Four, and Twilight fall behind next to him as the others go in first with more confidence.

Twilight takes a deep breath before heading through, whispering a single it’ll be fine before stepping in. Four doesn’t say anything before he finally jumps in like Wind’s pit of stuffed animals was actually a pit of crocodiles. Hyrule gives Legend a nervous, forced smile before he walks through.

Legend finds himself alone for just a few moments before the portal wobbles like it’s about to break. If the unknown is frightening, being left alone is even more so.

Legend walks in, and everything goes still, quiet, and cold as he goes.

Then… the world flashes to life, and he’s falling.

His stomach rises to his throat as he shouts in surprise, reaching out for something to catch his fall, but there’s nothing there.

And then… he crashes into water.

The panic is immediate, and as he desperately looks up he can already see that he’s so far from the surface. He flails, his lungs already feeling like fire in his chest, but he doesn’t go anywhere but further down.

Fuck. Fuck!

He tries to think, tries to remember those countless hours he’s spent trying to learn how to do this without magic to aid him. He doesn’t wear his magical tools to swim all the time, and it’s embarrassing to be an adult his age and still not know how to. After Koholint… he trained for hours in shallow ponds and buckets of water to try and teach himself to swim, but nothing ever worked. He always sank like a stone, exhausted and cold and afraid.

Just like he’s doing now.

Through the blur of the water above him, he thinks he can see the others easily—frustratingly—treading water. No one is sinking like him... not even Time in all his armor... and he wonders if they even know that he’s getting further and further away from them without being able to do anything but flail. The shock of hitting water must have been too distracting for them to notice right away that one of them hasn’t come back up yet.

He wants to scream. Shout at them to look down already. But he can’t. If he even thinks of opening his mouth, he’s sure he will try to take in air where there is none.

If nothing happens soon, he’ll drown.

He flails some more, making no progress, and it’s when his lungs begin to spasm that he realizes what an idiot he’s been. He has a ring in his travel bag- one that will make it so his body is even lighter compared to the water, which will help him float back up to the surface.

He abandons his useless struggling, trying very hard to not focus too much on the fact that his heart is beating so loudly that it feels like his eardrums feel like they’ll burst. He scrambles for his bag that’s floating above his head and opens the main pocket.

However, the coldness of the water and his jittery panic combined with his body's desperateness for air causes him to jolt the bag awkwardly as it opens, causing it’s contents to spill out and begin to sink faster than him. He makes a mad grasp for the ring, ignoring everything else, but it only barely touches his fingertips before the underwater currents drag it away and out of sight.

He feels like he might cry, but not if his lungs explode first. He looks back up at the surface, his vision more blurry than ever, and weakly tries to swim up like how he knows it’s supposed to be done.

He goes nowhere, his arms feel as strong as an over-cooked noodle.

Finally, black begins to creep in on the edges of his vision. He tries to fight it, but eventually his body takes control. His mouth opens and he madly gasps in for air, but the cold fire of the water rushes in instead. He chokes, bringing his hands to his throat to alleviate the pain but finding no way to actually succeed in that. His body spasms, his lungs wanting air where there is none, and the black overpowers his vision.

He’s going to die, he thinks weakly. He’s going to drown.

Drowning, he’s sure, is of course the most painful way to go too.

He kicks, claws, and sabotages himself by trying to cough out the water and bring in air… but eventually… his consciousness fades, and his limbs go limp mid-stroke.

-o-o-o-o-

Suddenly, before he can fully lose himself, the pressure lifts and he flails against a strong hold suddenly around him. His whole body feels like it’s on fire as he’s dragged up to the surface, and the second his face is above the water he begins to cough what feels like lava. The water leaving his lungs feels more like torture than anything he’s ever experienced, and it’s all he can do to clutch to whatever brought him back up and suffer.

Eventually, his fit of coughing up water calms just enough for him to take in gasping amounts of air. He squeezes his eyes shut, digging his fingers into wet fur, and savoring the feeling of air entering his aching lungs.

The hold on him shifts, and Legend desperately tightens his grasp. “Don’t let go,” he begs weakly with an agonizing croak. The pain of the three barely legible words causes his coughing to renew; he’s not even sure he’s getting any more water out still or if his lungs just really hate him.

“I won't let go,” a voice rubles next to his ear. His face is pressed between the shoulder and neck of a familiar voice. An embarrassed blush would rise to his face if he hadn’t just been rescued from the one fate he really doesn’t want to meet his end to. He’ll take being carried in water by Twilight any day as long as his face never goes below water ever again. The man is one of the best swimmers in the group after all. “Wind says we’re in his ocean, and there’s an island not far from here. Just hold on, Legend. I won’t let you go.”

Legend can only nod against the crook of Twilight’s neck, hoping his defeated mortification doesn’t redden his ears.

It’s slow going from there as Twilight’s forced to drag Legend’s dead weight through the water. Legend holds on as tightly as he can, spikes of panic rising every time a wave touches his jaw or ears and only relaxing—shamefully—somewhat every time Twilight apologizes. Legend hasn’t opened his eyes, too embarrassed to face the others yet. Their breaths are like thunder as they swim along Twilight, asking Twilight here and there to tell them the second he feels too tired to carry Legend the whole way. Eventually, the gentle waves of the ocean become larger the closer they get to a shore. Legend tries his best not to have an anxiety attack as water splashes against his face more and more, forcing himself to listen as Warriors begins to explain what they need to do to make sure Legend doesn’t get deathly ill after taking in so much freezing salt water.

The second Legend feels his foot touch the sand of the beach, he begins to try and help in his weakened state to get himself to shore.

But it seems he’s pathetic as a newborn kitten, and the shame feels almost as painful as the water still trapped in his lungs. Twilight and Time work together to finally drag him onto the beach, and once it’s shallow enough for them to wade, Twilight hefts Legend up in his arms, bridal-style, and all Legend can do is bury his face against Twilight’s chest and try to stop the sobs threatening to break out.

He almost drowned. He almost died, and Twilight was forced to dive under and not only bring him back up, but carry him to the shore and onto dry land. Twilight drops to his knees the second the sand is a golden dry, and begins to mumble encouraging and comforting words.

He failed to keep his sobs in, it seems.

If he could die of embarrassment right now, he’d prefer that to ever going into water again.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Twilight sooths, which doesn’t help Legend at all.

He doesn’t even know what he’s saying sorry for. For drowning? For not being able to swim? For being carried to shore? For being comforted after almost dying?

Maybe he’s not saying sorry to Twilight at all. Maybe he’s apologizing to Koholint, to Marin, to all the people he killed to escape a dream… just to wake up stranded and alone in the middle of a very similar cold ocean like this one. He sometimes wonders why he had to do what he thought was right back then, sometimes mulls over the idea of what if he ignored the nightmares and stayed asleep… allowed the ocean to claim his body while he slept and stayed there.

All he knows now is that he’s exhausted both physically and mentally, and it takes way too long for his crying to calm enough for Twilight to risk letting him down a bit for Warriors to get a look at him. He endures their worried coddling, eventually forcing himself to calm down just enough to have only a tremble to his lip and voice.

Warriors hands him what’s left of a health potion, as they’re almost always on low supply with how sporadic their traveling is. “This should help with the pain,” he says, “the others are looking for a safe place to set up camp, then Wild’s making soup.”

Legend can only nod and take the potion. He avoids their eyes as he scoots away from Twilight, trying to gain back any independence he can.

Twilight sighs. “Don’t beat yourself up over this, okay? No one will judge you for this.”

Legend shakes his head and downs the potion. Warriors is right. There’s just enough to help with the pain. “Just take me to the others. I…” he swallows. His voice sounds like sandpaper. “I just… want to go to bed now.”

“And you can,” Warriors says, and Legend hates how it sounds like he’s talking to a frightened child. “We just have to make sure you’re not going to get ill from this.”

Defeated, Legend grabs the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Fine,” is all he can bring himself to say before surrendering himself to a horrifying night of his new family worrying over him like first-time mothers.

When he finds himself a few hours later wrapped up in some furs that stayed mostly dry in some well packed bags… laying next to a fire and between several warm bodies… he fell asleep thinking that maybe a little coddling wont do him bad at all.

He’s safe now, and no one has made fun of him for his weakness like he feared more than he thought he would. Just this once… he can allow himself to be worried over.

[corvusravenette]

Fan Fiction: Qi Ye

Title: I Thought of You and Yet You Came Based on Original Work: Qi Ye Author: Priest Genre: BL Warning: Gore and Violence Rate: Teen / Young adults Pairing: M/M (Wu Xi + Beiyuan) Chapter: 4 of 5 (... maybe 10. I don’t know. We’ll see...) * This fiction might have a few more chapters extended. I ran away with the plot again. Too much coffee does that to people. I also started a Mafia AU on WenZhou. The first few chapters will probably be up in a couple of weeks. We’ll see...  +-+-+-+-+-+-           “We… want to see him if he’s alive, his corpse if he’s dead! Someone! Come here!” the Emperor bellowed hysterically, almost dementedly.           Wu Xi stared at him fixedly, unblinkingly, apathetically. His decision had been right. There was no way this man could be allowed to know the Beiyuan was still with him. He would not allow it in this lifetime or any other lifetimes. As the imperial doctors and attendants hurried into the room, Wu Xi turned amidst the chaos and left without saying anymore lest his face betrayed his disgust.           He knew that this would not be the last time he had to deal with the Rongjia Emperor. +-+-+-+-+-+-

          He was not as calculative as Beiyuan but his despicable beloved had taught him in a short span of days how easy it was for the Prince to manipulate and to lie through his teeth. A spark of anger was ignited in his heart. How was he to forgive this betrayal? Did he not understand he was his man? That in this lifetime, it can only be him, to live and die for him, no one else but him? They were supposed to stay together, fight side by side together… die together. Was he the only one who believed in that? Did he think he needed protection against a bunch of barbarians and dimwitted power-hungry courtiers? He was no longer a child!           How was he to forgive Beiyuan for throwing him away after leading him on, making him believed that there was no one else in his heart but him, and taking him to bed? How dare he use his own drug on him after making his heart bleed open with a love so beautiful, so painfully obsessed, so wretchedly enraptured by him?! What was he to do now when the love of his life was comatose and bedridden, and on death’s door? Did the damn bastard realize just how much he loved him? That he would have died for him and taken his place on the battlefield? Did he not understand the significance of his own life? Did he not care whether he lived or died?           Did he not care about… me…?           Can he not see that without him… without him, I cannot breathe?           Can he not see.. without him, I do not want to live…?           Without him, there is no point in me… living…?           Hot tears pricked his eyes and he lowered his gaze to the ground, blinking away rapidly as this small voice whispered his deepest pain and fear, buried in the abyss of his heart. A few of the guards who were stationed outside the inner courtyard escorted him out, struggling to keep up with the Great Shaman’s long strides. He was taller than most Great Qing people, and had an air of powerful but cruel nobility about him, now that he had inherited the Illustrious One’s position as the Great Shaman of Nanjiang. He was paler than most Great Qing people as well, his bone jade skin a stark contrast to his pearl-black eyes and thick eyebrows. Beautiful, yet menacing at the same time.           The guards escorting him towards the outer courtyard stole furtive glances at him, their hearts admiring and fearing him. They had barely rested after the battles were over, many of their comrades dead although many more were saved by the timely arrival of the Nanjiang-Great Qing border army as well as the Great Shaman’s own personal troops. The shortage in personnel had forced them out of their resting beds and onto guard duty at the Imperial Palace now that the Emperor had return to the dragon throne despite barely recuperating from their wounds.           As their eyes followed the Great Shaman on the long trek to the outer courtyard, they noticed that he was still wearing the very same robes he wore on the battlefield, he had not changed at all, his fingers were still caked in blood and traces of dried blood was visible on his clothes. The image of the Great Shaman swooping into the battlefield like he was the reincarnation of Asura himself was still fresh in their minds: his long saber swinging and slicing through countless Vakurah necks; the bloody crimson arcs that accompanied the flying heads; the horrendous screams that were cut off mid-voice as he slaughtered his way through; the thick aura of death that clung to him as blood splattered on him, soaking him to the skin.           They would be awed and haunted by the brutality of the Nanjiang warriors as they stormed the battlefield in all their might that day. They were a different breed of people: taller, more muscular, more unforgiving, more ruthless in their approach than their own soldiers. It was the Great Qing’s blessing to have this fearsome race on their side for once. They were their saviours but they were also a double-edged sword. If that sword had turned on them, they would not stand a chance… like the Battle of Nanjiang, where the Great General Feng was entombed in the grasslands of Nanjiang, along with four thousand of his elite knights.           In their hearts, they knew that the Great Qing dynasty owed their lives to these Southern warrior race for turning the tides of this war. Right now, there were thousands of Nanjiang warriors camped outside the city. Despite being a vassal state of Great Qing, their pledge of loyalty was only to the Great Shaman in front of them. They only needed one word from this man, and protector could turn conqueror overnight. The guards shuddered at the thought.           The black stallion was making its rounds on the grounds of the outer courtyard, waiting for its master to come back. At the sight of him coming down hurriedly from the stairs, the stallion neighed, shaking its head away from the guard holding on to its reins and pulled towards Wu Xi as though it could sense his tumultuous heart. The familiar sight of the man seemed to have calm the warhorse down, as it butted its head against his face.            Wu Xi didn’t smile, but his heart settled a little. He always had an affinity with animals: the sable, the little viper he now kept in a cage lest it got injured in the war, the tigers and wolves he kept back home in Nanjiang… Patting the horse’s neck, Wu Xi saddled it, gave a nod to the saluting guards and galloped back where he came from – back to the large posthouse located quite close to Martial Order Gates, back to his heart, his beloved, back to what he had to do to keep his man safe and sound.           Judging from the Emperor’s reactions, he would follow suit soon. Smiling grimly, he thought of Beiyuan. You would be proud of the bastard I’m becoming Beiyuan, you taught me how to do this, what a brilliant teacher you are. Spurring the black beast on faster, he reached the posthouse in record time. It was heavily guarded by his own intimidating warriors and his fearful neighbors steered clear of the area, affording a wide berth of privacy for him and his men, and more importantly, for his beloved.           There were curious stares as Wu Xi made his way through the streets. Hawkers and vendors were just setting up their stalls, shops were just opening their doors and about to do their morning sweeps, and inquisitive neighbors had started milling about their compounds. There was still fear of a future unknown, but life needed to go on.           The war had ended, and the people picked up where they left off. Like every other war before this, the National Treasury would suffer a large blow: to feed, clothe, weaponize and support an army numbering in the tens of thousands would drain what few luxuries their country had. It didn’t help that years of idleness and corruption made it even worse. Life would be difficult for some ten or twenty more years, more so for peasants and farmers who were already struggling to make a living. It would not be easy to rebuild but they have done it before, and they would survive again.           The posthouse was converted from a private mansion with its own four-walled compound. It was a lot smaller than his residence behind Prince Nanning’s own personal residence but large enough for a man of his standing. It was also hastily prepared for the Great Shaman given the circumstances of the war. Helian Yi must’ve had someone run ahead to get it ready.           It was within reach of the Imperial Palace but its stone throw’s away vicinity to Martial Order Gates was also tantamount to how much Helian Yi unconsciously wanted to keep the Great Shaman at a certain cordial -if not cold- distance. Regardless the reasons, Wu Xi could only thank Gazh for his lucky star aligning. Its location afforded him a hiding place for Beiyuan, as well as time needed to do what was necessary to accomplish now.           With the posthouse coming to view, and the familiar banners of his Nanjiang colors snapping against the wind in this frigid morning, Wu Xi’s heart settled more even if it was just a smidgen. It might not be home, but these familiar colors and the sight of the Nanjiang warriors guarding the entrance six feet apart from each other warmed the cockles of his cold soul. The political tide was going to turn in their favor, he would force Helian Yi into submission or risk a second all-out war. He knew that Helian Yi would feel threatened enough with the Nanjiang encampment just outside of the biggest gates to the city. He only needed to say a word, and they would assemble and attack at a moment’s notice. He was no longer a hostage, and he had been crowned the new leader of his people, he had the power of Nanjiang in his hands, and unlike his Mentor, he was crueler in nature. He would make this proud city blessed by Heaven bend to his will.

           Receiving the salute of his men patrolling the entrance and around the compound, Wu Xi got off his stallion, gave it a good pat and a whisper of thanks in his native language before letting one of his guards take the horse away for rounds, water and hay. Ashinlae and Nuahar came out of the main house, greeted him in unison and informed him that a certain visitor had come. Wu Xi listened carefully, the tones of both men had changed – there was a solemn urgency and seriousness in Nuahar’s voice, unlike this morning and Ashinlae, the more hot-headed of the two also seemed to have a change of attitude.           Wu Xi nodded. “Lead the way,” he instructed simply. His voice uninflected and unperturbed. His face a cold mask of indifference. He had learned the hard way, the fastest way to remove all traces of emotions from his face. He had his beloved to thank for the forced enlightenment. There was an unyielding bitterness in his heart, and nothing anyone could say would heal this hurt.           “Nuahar, have the servants ready hot water and new robes and my veil for me. If my guess is right, within the next hour or so, the Emperor will make his way here. I need to take a bath,”           “Immediately, Great Shaman,” Nuahar nodded, excusing himself from the receiving room of the main house. They had brought several of their servants from Nanjiang as well, and though this mansion had their own servants, it was better to have their own people serve them.           Those ‘borrowed’ servants were only too glad to make an exit. No one wanted to work with the Poison King. They had heard horror stories over the years from the mouths of the Great Shaman’s previously hired Imperial Tutors. How he would let poisonous critters crawl around freely in his now former residence. How he would experiment with toxins and venoms of vipers and scorpions on himself and his warriors. How he would leave weapons tipped with poison drying out in the open, that if someone had accidentally stepped on it or nicked themselves on it, would suffer a pain unlike no other.           No, no one wanted to work with him. They were only too glad to be allowed to leave in one piece. Aside Prince Nanning’s own servants who were familiar with Wu Xi over the last ten years and were comfortable with his eccentricities, everyone else opted to leave the very night they could.            Wu Xi turned his unwavering gaze to the man waiting for him. Unlike the night before when he had slunk into the posthouse to remind him of the Emperor’s impending visit, today he had cleaned himself up and had discarded the torn garb he had on yesterday. He no longer hid his face from view, and in its place was the clean, misleadingly trustworthy face of a young man, possibly in his early twenties, maybe older than Wu Xi by a couple of years. He was even more good-looking in his imperial guard uniform, his facial features gentle yet unreadable, his frame slender but hiding the forms of a master martial artist, his eyes focused on the Great Shaman yet not betraying any of his own tumultuous inner thoughts.           Wu Xi thought to himself, this was a man not to be trifled with, he was a master con artist, a master of disguise, an assassin working in the dark for the Emperor. A blind, unwavering loyal follower. Wu Xi could not fault the man, he could not fault a man for his loyalty, no matter how misplaced he believed it was. If it was another lifetime, he would welcome this man as a friend. Beiyuan and himself had good affinity right from the start, Wu Xi lamented, two peas in a masquerading pod.            “Master Zhou, are we ready?” Wu Xi questioned, a nod and a frank remark all in one in a manner of greeting. He was not known for beating about the bush. He had no patience for mere trivialities. He hit the mark immediately.           “We are. Come away, Da Wu,” Zhou Zishu replied. His heart the lightest it had been in so many years of toiling about in the dark in the name of the Emperor, his hands never recovering from its bloody stains. He led the way to an opposite exit from where Nuahar had left.           The posthouse had several main rooms, and several smaller ones – usually reserved for the lower family or the concubine family. Zhou Zishu explained that he had Ashinlae locate the remotest room in the posthouse, preferably an inner chamber and they had helped him move the Prince there. It was done quickly and with as little hassle as possible, only keeping the bare necessities in the room. They came up to an unassuming door after what seemed like a maze of steps, twists and turns.           Zhou Zishu knocked thrice and the door opened to a darkened room. Ping An stuck his head out and saw who it was, stepping to the side to let them in. It was akin to a treatment room: clean, sterile, practical. Wu Xi was greeted with the sight of Beiyuan sleeping on the bed, a medicine table by its side, and several bottles of his personal concoctions arranged on it by labels. There was also a small medicinal stove in one corner, and an unpleasant smell was currently wafting from it.

          “Beiyuan…” Wu Xi whispered softly, lost in himself for a moment as he approached the sleeping Prince. His features soften as he watched Beiyuan’s serene face.           He sat on the bed, the thin mattress dipping slightly under his weight, and took Beiyuan’s wrist in his hand. Checking his pulse, he nodded and stood to lift the cover of the brewing pot in the corner. He took the ladle on the side and slowly stirred the contents of the pot, scrutinizing its color and smell. Lifting the ladle to his lips, he took a small sip and frowned from the biting bitterness. Turning his head to Ping An, he instructed in clipped tones to feed Beiyuan one bowl of the medicine in approximately half a shichen.           “Where’s the corpse?” Wu Xi asked Zhou Zishu curtly, earning him a reflexive shudder from Ping An who knew why the Captain of the Imperial Guards was here for.           “Da Wu, are you alright?” Ashinlae asked worriedly, his eyes staring at the black stains on the Great Shaman’s lips. He knew Nuahar had added Manchurian scorpion venom to the concoction, “Is… is the remedy working?”           “The poison is reacting well with the herbs,” was all the answer Ashinlae was going to get from him before Wu Xi stepped out of the room with Zhou Zishu in the lead. It was enough for Ashinlae to believe him. Ping An on the other hand looked up sharply but the warrior warned him to stand down with one look. “Trust our Great Shaman, I know you are worried for the Prince, but you have seen how strong his medicines are. He will save your Prince. It isn’t a choice for him,”           With that said, Ashinlae closed the door behind him and ran to catch up with his leader. Ping An stood staring at the closed door long after it was shut, shaking in his boots as he turned trembling gazes over to the insignificant pot brewing quietly in the corner on the stove.           Poison? He was going to feed the Prince… poison? He turned his eyes back to the shut door and nodded vigorously, steeling his resolve. If poison would revive the comatose Prince, he would pour all the poison in the world into his mouth. He was sure of it. He had to be sure of it. He had to trust the Great Shaman.           Wu Xi followed Zhou Zishu back to his own compound, noting that the doors were shut tightly and a few of his Nanjiang guards were stationed there. It was quite heavily guarded. Voicing their salutes, they stepped aside to let their leader in. Wu Xi cracked opened the door and he immediately had cause to pause in his steps. He recognized the man lying down on the bed but he was clearly also, very dead.           Finally gaining his senses, Wu Xi stepped in, and walked closer to inspect the man’s body. He had similar wounds to Beiyuan, a long deep gash from shoulder to abdomen, a similar physique to his beloved as well: tall, slender and lean. If he had not been lovingly intimate with Beiyuan, he would easily have mistaken him for his Prince as well. The similarity was too striking. As morbid as it sounded, this would work in his favor.           “Master Zhou, are you sure?” Wu Xi probed out of courtesy. “He’s…”           “Yes. It’s what I should do. He would’ve agreed as well, I know he would. It would be just like him. He had a fondness for the Prince, and we’ve shared many a jar of wines together,” Zhou Zishu replied, “Let him take the Prince’s place,”           Both of them stood by the bed, a heavy grief in the air as they looked upon the young man who had a future so bright but was taken too soon from them. “Rest well, dearest shidi,” Zhou Zishu whispered. His hand caressing Liang JiuXiao’s pale face, his lower lip trembled, his face breaking into a rare sliver of emotion as a tear fell from his lashes. Even in death this child always seemed like he was smiling, he thought fondly as his heart contracted painfully from his sorrow.           Wu Xi bowed his head in a reverent prayer to his Almighty Gazh, closing his eyes and entering a semi-trance like state. He prayed that this young man who – even in death would serve his final act of goodness – that his next reincarnation be a happier, more fulfilling one. Wu Xi casted his prayers into the heavens, and just as he opened his eyes, a slight breeze floated in from the open window, carrying with it the telltale scent of peach blossoms. He nodded to himself, as though it was a sign from the heavens. “Go in peace little brother, may we meet again in the next lifetime. Let us be friends once again then,”. To be continued. +-+-+-+-+-

Click here for previous chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4]

[egoiistas]

jewel of the sun (1) - foster

a/n: hello. hehe

ao3

Ffxiv (Post ARR/HW) - Warrior of Light contemplates the aftermath of the Ul'dahn banquet from the cold, unfeeling lands of Ishgard.

In her experience, the cold had never been so vicious. It numbs and chills her to the bones as she watches the blizzard rage from within the confines of her foster home. It is a force that whips and lashes against the grey stones of the city - the street below barely visible. It is a vengeful power born in the wake of the Seventh Umbral Calamity, blinding and bright, as if the land itself deemed those who walk among it are no longer worthy of her fruits.

Coerthas is cold, yes - but she never had to regard it with any sort of permanence. A jaunt to Camp Dragonhead for the odd job had her break out her rose pink glacial coat, but, at the end of the day, she could always count on hanging it up until the next visit. Home and warmth was always an aetheryte transport away.

When her fingers touch the window, she feels the Ishgardian cold spread along her skin, sapping the heat from her flesh. This land is the opposite of her - her antithesis. It offers no space for fire to exist naturally. For it to persist, it must be protected and coddled. Extra measure required to shelter and foster any sort of flame. The wind will not pity it, the snow will not sympathize.

Her hand retracts from the window pane and squeezes her fingers into her palm before the cold can sting.

She is grateful to have found asylum in this frigid land for there wasn’t another.

B’jou Belhi, known as the Warrior of Light, and the Scions of the Seventh Dawn are wanted and accused of regicide. The notion is ludicrous even now and would be to anyone who had two brain cells to spark together. Yet, someone took advantage that the Warrior of Light was in the right place at the right time; ripe for framing. All that she did, every danger she faced since arriving in Gridania - Ifrit, Garuda, Titan, Leviathan, Ramuh, Garleans, Ascians, Ultima - and her word meant nothing. The events transpired with such quickness she barely had time to organize her thoughts. She had felt out of place, out of touch - out of her mind and worst of all, helpless. A guilt, heavy in her gut, rematerializes every time she’s reminded of the faces of her fellow Scions in her mind’s eye. How they had urged her to leave them behind.

Papalymo and Yda. Y’shtola and Thancred. Minfilia.

She had been utterly helpless.

Tears come to her easily and she sheds them just as freely.

All she was able to carry with her was the clothes on her back, Alphinaud, Tataru, and the moments burned into her mind of her found family staying behind so that she could escape. The forces that be - the Scions, Ser Aymeric, House Fortemps, the Echo, Hydaelyn - worked to ensure she continued on.

To those concerned, B’jou Belhi perishes in the rubble in her attempt to elude capture. She and her history are entombed in sewers beneath Ul’dah and the howling winds of Ishgard eulogize in her stead. The Eorzean Alliance would have to think twice about using their resources to chase an adolescent Elezen and a Lalafell that have taken refuge in Ishgard.

The glass shudders from a gust of wind carrying snowflakes turned into knives and despite it all, something burns in her breast. In Ishgard, a name like B’jou Belhi stands out. The naming convention singles her out in race and as the Warrior of Light or as the slayer of gods. To some, it was once the name to be prayed in reverence as the reincarnation of Azeyma. The given name bestowed to a stolen daughter belonging to no one.

Housed within her are the sneers and malicious looks of those who took her goodness for granted, twisted it for their schemes - serving as fuel. Facets of what made her B’jou Belhi are thrown into the funeral pyre, kindle for the flame to rise and dance within her so that she may rise anew.

In the backdrop of a blizzard, Bijou Bordeaux emerges from the ashes, smoke flowing off her skin, carrying with her that which she burnt so that she’ll never forget.

[noragami-ru-manga]

Calamity bears human face

These are my thoughts on the first half of 87-2. Spoilers ahead!

I really, really liked the second part of chapter 87. Adachitoka still refuse us Yukine’s entire past, but maybe that’s for the best. If what we’ve been shown so far causes this many emotions in the fandom, I’m scared to think what would have been if they revealed everything at once. But… this post isn’t about Yuknie. Not because I don’t like his character, but because I really want to discuss the first 10 pages of the new chapter.

As I expected, we got some of Father’s flashbacks this time. Except they were about the part of his life that had Yato in it, probably several years (?) after Sakura’s death.

Yato not wanting to kill people isn’t that strange, since he started “slacking off” because of Sakura’s influence, and we know that by this point Hiiro would take initiative whenever Yato wouldn’t put his heart in performing Father’s jobs, as shown in chapter 47. Interestingly enough, when Yato suggested that Father should kill people himself, the former answered that he “was killing gods, at least” – implying that he didn’t kill humans with his own hands.  Father’s words about killing gods do sound sinister but as we’ve already seen and will see later in the chapter, not all gods are warriors like Bishamon, Takemikazuchi and Yato himself, so I wouldn’t be too intimidated by this phrase.

His line about the uselessness of killing gods without killing people though … The idea is obvious and logical, so I don’t see the point in developing it further, but even now I think that Father did not choose the most efficient way to do it. Even if Yato stayed under Father’s total control, one god of calamity doesn’t seem to be that big of a threat on a global scale, contrary to whatever Nora has to say later in the chapter.

The thing that caught my attention on these pages is Father’s words about shrines. Yato already revealed before that someone would always tell him he didn’t need a shrine, that someone being Father. Up to this point I simply thought that this was needed to cultivate Yato’s fear of being forgotten – if he doesn’t have a shrine, it’s all the more easier for him to disappear without any chances to reincarnate. The idea that Father actually thinks that shrines are useless somehow never crossed my mind, although now that I see it on paper it makes total sense.

And since Yato raised the question, I’ll take it from here. He said he didn’t understand why did needed to destroy humans if life would be boring without them. I’ve always asked this question in regard to any character whose end goal is total annihilation – what’s the point? Sure, Father isn’t aspiring to be an evil overlord as to ask him a question “who are you going to rule over if there’s no one left”. But his goal, apparently, is killing all gods and also all humans so that old gods can’t reincarnate while new ones can’t appear. But what exactly is he going to do if he succeeds? Die while feeling the satisfaction of revenge accomplished? It’s just so hard to understand someone whose views  are so different than your own.

I wish I could say that the small local kami that attacked Yato proves that Father’s words about shrines are wrong, but what happens next actually corroborates his statement. Partially.

One the one hand, the villagers’ prayer was heard, and the local kami attacked Yato for destroying the village. But Father just crushed her. So in the end, the kami wasn’t able to so anything about these humans’ problem, so yeah, their wish wasn’t granted.

This scene also demonstrates that yes, Father can actually kill gods. The more important thing about it though is that Yato sees it. We have already seen just how much Yato used to fear death for the majority of the series. However, knowing that Father has the ability to kill Yato by forgetting him is one thing; but witnessing him kill a kami just like Yato really drives it home. And it’s all the scarier how Father simply intercepted Yato’s weapon – he just summoned Chiki, who moments earlier was in the boy’s hands. Just look at Yato’s face, you can see the terror.

And Father didn’t really have the need to kill that kami. What could they have done with a chopstick anyway?  Maybe he god mad at this kami actually answering people’s prayer, disproving his point. Or maybe he just hates the gods so much he couldn’t stand even seeing one of them, so he just had to kill them.

(BTW, does anyone know what’s with the blindfold? I’ve tried looking it up but never found anything).

Nora and Hiyori’s dialogue is my favorite part the chapter, there are just so many things to unpack here. First, “Father would praise the god called Yato”. Is it just me, or is Nora jealous? We saw in Yato’s memories that Father actually praised both his children. Then again, we also saw that he punished Nora when he wanted Yato to behave. Considering that Yato grew increasingly reluctant to kill humans, and Nora had to take the lead and finish Yato’s work, this kind of jealousy is unsurprising. Nora was Father’s right hand girl and supported him all the way, but between the two of them Yato would receive more attention.

“But at some point, Yato started mourning the deaths of other people”.  Yeah, we know at what point – Nora must be referring to the time when Sakura was still alive. I’ll just throw in a couple of pics from chapter 47 to remind you why Yato started mourning people.

“When calamity strikes, people always become more devout”. This must be one of the most powerful quotes in the entire manga, because it encapsulates one of the foundations of the Noragami universe. Gods exist to grant human wishes, but who would have more reasons to pray – someone who has it all, or someone who’s in trouble? Remember the main reason why people start seeing the Far shore and things that relate to it.

Of course humans would turn to gods if they can’t solve their problems themselves; that’s the reason they exist. I’ve already mentioned it in the post about memory and memories – the idea of a being that isn’t bound by human constraints, is immortal and can help out when there’s nothing else left takes shape of a person, and that’s how a god is born. Although there’s another reason, too – people hope that if calamity is sentient, you can bargain with it. That’s how people started worshiping Tenjin – not to ask for something they don’t have, but to beg him not to take something they already possess.

It may be that, by sending Yato to obliterate villages, Father was hoping not just for thinning out people, but for a somewhat different reaction from them.

“That boy loved people”. This line is just so heartwarming. And Hiyori already said it before. She saw Yato’s past and how even back then he tried to help humans – like making snow shoes for people in need. She understood him and accepted him.

I don’t really have anything to add to Father wanting “to do something” though. I’ve already said before that Father is done with being the game master and wants to be an actual player. Apparently, he is waiting for Yukine to discover GGS completely before summoning him as a weapon.

The line about natural disasters having human faces caught my attention before the chapter was even translated.  When people die because of natural disasters, it’s horrible, but there’s nothing you can do about it. We can say that “we need to build sturdier houses/dams/etc.”, “we need to take better precaution measures”, and we try, but you can’t possibly predict everything. But in a world where the sun, the moon, the lightning, etc. are personified as gods, a.k.a “have faces”, not only there’s a way for someone to direct their wrath at those faces, but there’s the question of why these sentient elements of nature do these things that hurt humans.

Let’s look at some of the examples of gods harming Nakatsukuni, the world of humans.

Chapter 7 – Bishamon cuts down a grove to get to Yato

Chapter 8 – Kofuku’s vent releases a horde of ayakashi, which results in rising crime rates in Tokyo

Chapter 60 – Bishamon causes a local hurricane to locate Father

Chapter 66 – Takemikazuchi transforms into lightning to fight Yato

The gods harmed the world of humans, but it wasn’t for fun. Bishamon was guided by her thirst for revenge both times. Kofuku was helping her friend. Takemikazuchi became angry because his guide was hurt. All of them felt very human emotions. Except, since they are gods and their power surpasses that of an average human, the result of their outburst is a dead grove, rising crime rates, a damaged school. They aren’t actually trying to purposefully hurt humans but for those who suffer from these actions that’s hardly a consolation. And like I said, it’s one thing when you don’t really have anyone to blame, because the wind that destroyed your house doesn’t hear you, and another, when that wind has a face.

I think that when Father sent Yato to destroy villages, he hoped that the calamities would make people turn away from the gods. After all, people don’t always become more devout during trying times, sometimes they turn away from religion, which is what happened with Father himself. There’s a phrase going around the Internet – it was allegedly written on the wall of a Nazi concentration camp by a Jewish inmate: “If there is a God, He will have to beg for my forgiveness”. I don’t know how true this story is, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s real.

And even with all this in mind, I still don’t understand Father’s logic. Suppose he doesn’t destroy all of humanity, but does manage to kill all gods. I don’t think it would change that much. Amaterasu, for example, is depicted as the sun incarnate, but… if she’s killed forever, will the Sun go out, too? I understand that I’m going off the rails and into the cosmogenic myth territory here, but I can’t help it. If there are no gods left, but the forces of nature continue to destroy human lives, then Father’s actions hardly change anything. (Look at me, trying to find a reasonable explanation for an unhealthily long revenge plan). Also, don’t forget that gods of other religions canonically exist in Noragami – what is Father going to do about them, I wonder?

As for “someone” being killed by the Heavens, I’ve recently made an assumption that the pock-marked girl’s death could have been a payment of sorts to bring Father back from the dead. I made this assumption knowing that Father’s words in chapter 60 imply that gods were more involved than that. What Nora said here about Father hating attributing gods’ actions to natural disasters makes it obvious that the girl died because of one of such catastrophes. I’ve looked some more at that page from chapter 60, and I still don’t see any visible damage on the girl. However, Adachitoka emphasize a skeleton lying in a field near a dead tree. Also, I’ve turned the page upside down to get a better look, and now this skull haunts me.

Was it a drought, a famine that killed her? Or the smallpox? If these are her remains, why didn’t Father bury them? Who then helped him return from Yomi? We know it was a soul summoning, after all. So many questions that are yet to be answered.

However, even if we didn’t get all the answers yet, these ten pages did reveal a lot.

-          Nora knows Father’s backstory, but not all of it. Apparently, it’s a thing so painful that Father can’t tell everything even to his most devoted supporter.

-          Sakura’s influence on Yato was even stronger than I thought.  It’s possible that Father changed his course of actions and started giving Yato jobs that involved punishing criminals soon after the scene we saw in this chapter.

-          Father, apparently, thinks of himself as some kind warrior of justice while ignoring the fact that he does as much harm as the gods, and that he is a calamity with a human face.

 P.S. that page with the human faces of nature absolutely rocks.

[quicksilver-foxheart]

Wind in the Wilderness (2/?)

“So can you tell me anything about where you last saw your friends?”

Wind tried to remember, he really did. But they’d shifted worlds pretty much right before they were caught in the storm, so it was hard to recall specific details, especially since world-switching could be so. . .disorienting. 

“No, not really anything specific. Sorry. . .” he admitted, rather sheepishly. 

“That’s fine. We’ll find them eventually,’ Wild shrugged nonchalantly, which surprised Wind. Not only was Hyrule huge, but what if they switched worlds? How would he explain that, when he hadn’t even explained the whole reincarnation thing?

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

He certainly wasn’t one of many words, Wind reflected dully. But the young hero didn’t want to push him to talk when he clearly wasn’t comfortable with it. So he resigned to walking in silence, keeping his senses alert. A group of seven heroes-and sometimes, a wolf- couldn’t be that hard to find, right?

-

“Wind!” Warrior shouted uselessly at the top of his lungs as he approached their campsite. How could they have lost him? They’d all stuck together, hadn’t they? Damn you, Hylia.

Time had been rather quiet since they noticed Wind’s absence, occasionally sharing pointed looks with Twilight. “Shame Wolfie isn’t here. I bet he could track down Wind in no time,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “And the hero of this land, if there is one,” he added, glancing directly at Twilight, who avoided his gaze. But as they traveled this Hyrule, it seemed more and more and more like there was no hero. There’d been so many ruins everywhere, and they’d yet to see a populated civilization. The vast plains seemed empty except for monsters and decaying, frozen-in-time machinery.

“Yeah, it’s too bad,” Sky murmured. The cheerful hero seemed a lot older when he was upset like this, and was disorienting that he of all of them couldn’t even hold a smile. But in this strange, unfamiliar Hyrule, who knew what monsters lurked about, and while nobody said it out loud, they all had similar thoughts about what could have happened to Wind.

Twilight prodded the dying fire with a stick. They didn’t usually camp in one place for more than a single night, but it was almost dusk and they’d spent the whole day searching, each of them returning reluctantly to the camp after hours of no sign at all.

He grunted, stretching his arms as he heaved himself to his feet. Wordlessly, the Hero of Twilight retreated into the forest, heading the same way Warrior had come from, glaring ever so slightly in Time’s direction. Nobody made any move to acknowledge his leaving.

 Hopefully he’d find Wind soon. He absolutely hated leaving his fellow heroes behind like this, but what could he do? Leave Wind out there by himself? He remembered the lynels and guardians, even though the latter seemed to have deactivated. 

Once he could no longer hear the quiet tidbits of conversation glumly passed around, Twilight shifted into a wolf. Sniffing furiously, he pressed his nose to the ground. But he knew that he wouldn’t have  much luck, if any. A storm like that would have washed away any and all scents. Still, he retraced their steps through the field, steering clear of ruins and the tower. He remembered his protege trying to climb that specific tower. Regardless of whether or not the guardians were no longer working, it still made him uneasy.

At last! In a meadow within the sight of yet again more ruins, Twilight caught the vaguest whiff of Wind. He couldn’t detect anything else, which most likely meant that he’d ran away from their group and collapsed. Lifting his head, he strained his ears, and could faintly hear what sounded like people? He broke into a run, following the sound until  he found a well-traveled trail, following it past some large, crumbling stone building. The Coliseum! He remembered that foul place. Now he knew exactly where he was. Rounding around said ruins, he spotted the familiar building of a stable and some people milling about. He caught a whiff of not one, but two familiar scents. Well, that certainly made things easier. At least they wouldn’t have to spend time searching for the hero. 

Sticking to the thin stretch of woodland, the wolf followed the scent, and realized that they had quite the lead on him. He increased his pace to a full-on sprint. Now that he knew where he was, he wasn’t quite so worried about lynels. This area was peaceful. He knew that. But he also knew his apprentice had a tendency to do stupid, reckless things. Thankfully, dusk fell slowly, but he could tell he’d be away from camp at least over night, perhaps longer.

-

“So from here we’ll make our way to Rito Village,” Wild murmured. He still hadn’t revealed his Shiekah Slate, and was in no hurry to, thanking Hylia that he’d knew the general map of Hyrule like the back of his hand. How would you explain something like that to some innocent kid, one who probably had no idea of the dangers of Hyrule, the Calamity, and so on? 

Wind nearly stopped in his tracks. There were Rito? He felt a sharp pang of longing. He hadn’t seen Medli in a long time, since way before he’d been roped in with his other reincarnations. But he squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the matter at hand. 

“Sound good?”

“Y-yep, sounds fine,” Wind grinned. If anything, it’d at least be exiting to see what this Village looked like. He didn’t know if this was before or after his era, but perhaps it wouldn’t be too different. 

“Oh, and let me know if you want to stop for the night.”

“I’m good.”

Wind found it hard to keep any sort of conversation going. Any time one of them said something, Wild would only say, in a startlingly quiet voice, a few words or just a sentence. He seemed to only speak when he absolutely had to, and while Wind respected that, he was starting to feel like he was going to explode with curiosity. He had so, so many questions, but he couldn’t very well ask them outright, could he? Perhaps he could find a way to be subtle about it. 

He was brought back to reality when sound made by their footsteps changed from the thumping on grass to pattering wood and stone. Just ahead to the right, a horse-shaped statue reared up, eternally captured in its glory. He ran over to the railing, stumbling at the sudden drop. A gasp escaped the young hero at the view before him. “Woah! What is this place?”

Wild approached slowly, placing one hand ever-so-gently on the railing. When Wind glanced up at him, a small, sad smile was etched onto his face, and he stared off into the distance, eyes unfocused.

“Sanadin Park. Or rather-the ruins of it.”

 When he spoke, his voice was so soft, so quiet, that Wind almost didn’t hear him. Even when he did realize what he was saying, the Hero had to strain his ears to hear. But as soft as voice was, there was no mistaking the raw grief laced through.

Not quite sure how to respond, Wind turned his gaze back to the land before him, and said, somewhat stupidly, very much awkwardly, “It’s very pretty.”

A hum of agreement was all he got in reply as his companion turned away, cloak fluttering. For the briefest of moments, Wind caught a glimpse of a glowing device of sorts. He bit down on his tongue on his tongue, wincing at the metallic taste of blood. Not the time for questions.

He really wanted to ask what that box was, but he also didn't think Wild would take kindly to it.

Noticing how his companion was already ahead of him Wind scampered to catch up. Too bad Sky or even Twilight weren't here. They'd certainly know how to comfort him, because Wind himself didn't know how.

Wind panted at the now-brisk pace his companion set, struggling to keep up, and when he looked behind him, he coud just make out the shape of the rearing horse statue in the gloom.

"Hey-er, Link? Can we stop?" It felt weird calling someone else by that name, and perhaps it always would. He certainly didn't want to stop, but he was relieved when Wild uttered out a mere yes.

Wind leaned against a tree near the foot of the mountain they were at. He watched curiously as Wild began making a fire. Just then, his stomach made the sound of a dying bear, causing the young hero to blush furiously in embarrassment as Wild turned to look at him, mirth dancing in his eyes.

"Don't worry, kid. Once I get this fire going, I'll make some food."

Despite how excited he was that he'd gotten some proper words from the cloaked hero, Wind wanted to groan in protest. If he was anything like the other Links, than he would have no idea how to cook anything decent.

Sliding down the tree, he watched quietly as Wild jabbed a couple of sticks at an angle in the ground, spearing some meat on them. A heavenly smell rose into the air, much better than anything Hyrule had tried to make.

With deft, experienced hands, Wild rubbed some ground rock salt on the skewered meat. He wordlessly passed a stick to Wind, who, perhaps a bit too eagerly, accepted it. "Thank you, " he chirped, practically inhaling the skewer. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had actually edible food.

Out of the corner of his eye, Wild watched him with a mixture of amusement of curiosity. The kid ate like it was his last meal, and, now that he thought about it, spoke a little differently than any of the residents at any of the civilizations he'd been to.

They sat like that well into the night, leaning against the tree with a reasonable amount of space between them. Eventually, though, Wind could feel his eyes start to close, and as sleep took him, he realized that he hadn't even minded Wild calling him 'kid. '

[autodidact-adventures]

English History (Part 5): Iron Age

Iron Age (c. 800 – 43 AD)

From the beginning of the Iron Age, relations between the land and people were governed by an advanced concept of territoriality.  This concept of territoriality had gained strength over the millennia – leaders & tribes were already firmly associated with specific regions, which can be seen in the boundaries and locations of settlements.

But this all intensified greatly during the Iron Age, and iron played a huge part in it.  Gradually, new trade networks and forms of alliance were established.  Ritual and ceremonial objects were made out of iron.  The iron trade contributed to the eventual shape of England, as the various regions were becoming more intensely organized and controlled.

The hierarchical structure of societies also intensified.  There were chieftains and sub-chieftains; warriors and priests; farmers and craftsmen; workers and slaves.  Slave irons have been found near St. Albans (Hertfordshire), and a gang chain on Anglesey (an island off the north-west coast of Wales).

Meanwhile, funerary practices for the elite were becoming extremely elaborate.  Iron Age chieftains were buried surrounded by molten silver, gold cloth, ivory, iron chainmail suits, and precious cups & bowls.  One mortuary chamber was found to have trampled earth around its base, which suggests that people danced there.

Elite women's graves contained many ornaments, including mirrors, brooches and bangles, bowls, beads and tweezers.  On woman was buried with a large bronze bowl placed over her face.

The Oxfordshire Mirror, from the 00s BC.

Because of the increased sense of territoriality, regional identities were strong.  This can be seen in the types of settlements in various regions of England:

Eastern England – undefended settlements (similar to villages) among open fields.

South-western England – small communities in defended homesteads, and unenclosed settlements at a distance.  This was likely a division between the tribal leaders and the ordinary people.

North-eastern England – defended homesteads.

North-western England – round houses known as “beehive huts”.

Wessex Culture (Salisbury Plain) – a pattern of large territorial groupings based around hill forts.

There are variations upon these themes, such as the pit dwellings carved out of the chalk in Hampshire (a county on the southern coast); and the lake villages of Somerset (south-western England), with round huts built upon floating islands of logs.

The hill forts of Wessex show that this society was strongly hierarchical.  They probably originated in the Cotswolds (south-central & south-western England), and then spread over the whole of south-central England.  They were a symbol of elite ownership, as they demonstrated the mastery of land and resources.

The territory controlled by each fort was often marked out by linear earthworks that served as boundaries.  The forts became more heavily-defended over the Iron Age, and some of them were occupied for centuries.

These hill forts served as towns, not just forts.  They had clusters of building and streets, temples and storage facilities, and “zones” for separate industrial activities.  The circular houses were made of upright posts, woven together with wattle and sticks of hazel.  Their doors & porches faced east.  The roofss were usually thatched with reeds or straw, which was held in place with a daub of dung, clay & straw.  Soot from the peat fires was a valuable manure, so the dung mixture (and thatch?) was probably replaced each year.  The people had small cupboards inside their houses to store weapons in.

The populations of these hill forts were small, from 20 to 200, but they were the beginning of urban English life.  It is possible that London was once a hill fort, with its origins buried beneath the modern town.

British Camp, an Iron Age hill fort in Hertfordshire.

The many small tribes of this period lived in a state of constant alert against their rivals.  There were cattle raids, conflicts between warriors, and even large-scale wars.  Some hill forts were stormed and burned; bodies have been found in the ramparts, with their bones marked & hacked.

In this sort of a culture, heroic songs & tales would have been sung & told to celebrate the deeds of individual warriors and/or leaders.  Early Irish epics have such tales, perhaps containing stories & refrains from the prehistoric Irish tribes.  A comparison with the Iliad can be made.

These tribes & regional groupings did have network alliances and kinship ties, however.  Many smaller clans were eventually integrated, and became larger territorial units (perhaps because of danger).  These were the English tribes whom the Romans would confront later.

By the end of the Iron Age, some hill forts had become dominant, and took on the role of regional capitals.  The population increased steadily, and so agriculture became even more intensive.  People continued to clear woodland and forest.  The thick clay soils were worked with heavy wheeled ploughs.  This was the foundation for the agricultural economy of England.  They grew wheat in Somerset and barley in Wiltshire, and they still do today.

In 325 BC, the Greek merchant & explorer Pytheas landed on England's shores.  He named the island as Prettanike or Brettaniai, hence why we have the name “Britain” today.  He gave the land of the Picts the diminutive name Pryden.  He visited Cornwall, and watched people there work and purify the ore.

Pytheas wrote about the people worshipping various Greek gods, but he was simply projecting the Greek names onto the native Celtic gods. The Greeks saw all foreign gods in their own terms.

He wrote of seeing “a wonderful sacred precinct of Apollo and a celebrated temple festooned with many offerings”.  This temple was “spherical in shape”.  Close by there was a city “sacred to this god” who kings were called “Boreades” [the Greek god of the cold north wind].

Iron Age art (often called Celtic art) was very intricate, with a mastery of artificial form and linearity.  It uses spirals and swastikas, curves and circles.  Its patterns are related to the whorls, spirals & concentric circles carved upon Mesolithic passage graves several millennia earlier.  This suggests a continuity of belief and worship.

The Battersea Shield (c. 350 - 50 BC), a decorative shield facing.

The religion of England was Druidism.  There were certain sacred places, including caves and sacred groves.  Druids congregated in these sacred groves, with ancient trees creating the setting for ritual practice.

In a barrow in Yorkshire, dating back to the early Bronze Age, drum-shaped idols made of chalk have been found.  They have what seem to be human eyes & noses.  2,000 years later, the British writer Gildas (c. 500 – 570 AD) wrote of these “diabolical idols...of which we still see some mouldering away within or without the deserted temples, with the customary stiff and deformed features.” This shows that there was a long tradition of worship that may have had its roots in the Neolithic Period.

The image of the horned god Cernunnons has been found at Cirencester (Gloucestershire), and images of the horse goddess Epona in Wiltshire and Essex.  In East Stoke (Nottinghamshire), a carving of the hammer god Sucellus has been found.  The mysterious god Lud (or Nud) has his name in Ludgate Hill & Ludgate Circus (London).

There were religious sanctuaries all over the land, and even the smallest settlements probably had their own central shrines.  They have been found in hill forts, within ditched enclosures, along boundaries, and above barrow graves.  Often, Roman temples or early Christian churches were built atop them.

During the Iron Age, it was believed that the rooster served as a defence against thunderstorms.  This is why we have weathercocks on church steeples.

Human sacrifice was practised, probably in order to sanctify the land.  One man was bludgeoned to death and had his throat cut before being deposited in the marsh in Cheshire (north-western England).  In southern England, many skeletons have been found in the bottom of bits, flexed into unnatural positions.

Severed heads, probably believed to be the site of the soul/spirit, were also important.  Skulls have been found lined up in a row. Often the bodies of defeated enemies were beheaded, and their heads either buried or placed in running water.  300 skulls have been found in the Thames, dating from the Neolithic Period to the Iron Age.

According to Caesar, the Druids (high priests) created images of wicker-work, which they “fill with living men and, setting them on fire, the men are destroyed by the flames.”  The Druid priests were the lawmakers of the land – they determined rewards & punishments; and settled disputes over boundaries & property.

Pliny wrote that the Druids “esteem nothing more sacred than the mistletoe”.  The high priests “select groves of oak, and use the leaves of the mistletoe in all sacred rites.”  They tied the sacrificial victim to an oak tree, and the killers wore chaplets (garlands/circlets worn on the head) made of oak leaves.

The Druids practised divination, astrology and magic.  They believed that the soul was immortal, and was reincarnated.  The Roman writers considered this belief to make clear the native English contempt for death.

The Druids worshipped the sun and moon, and this solar belief persisted even after their demise.  In 1452, a butcher from Standon (Hertfordshire) was accused of proclaiming that there was no god except for the sun and moon.  The Druids' power was retained by the Anglo-Saxon bishops, and the tonsures of early Christian monks may also have originated with the Druids.  Thomas Hardy, in Tess of the d'Ubervilles, notes that “old customs” last longer on clay soils.

By 100 BC, there were 15 large tribes in England, and they were coming under the control of leaders who were now being called kings. In the years before the main Roman invasion, Suetonius named Cunobelis (leader of the Catuvellauni) as “rex Britannorum”. Cunobelis' capital was St. Albans (Hertfordshire, southern England), and he controlled a large area north of the Thames, including Cambridgeshire, Bedfordshire and Oxfordshire.  The Catuvellauni were a fully-formed elite culture of warriors and priests, and its traditions went back to the early Bronze Age.  Cunobelis is the Cymbeline of Shakespeare's play of the same name.

Territory of the Catuvellauni.

Territories of southern Britain’s Celtic tribes.

At some time during the 400s BC, members of the Parisii (a tribe from northern Gaul) settled in Yorkshire, where they created an archaeologically distinctive community.  During the 00s BC, a tribe called the Belgae launched a small invasion, and eventually settled in Hampshire, Essex and Kent.  The Roman name for Winchester was Venta Belgarum, meaning “the market of the Belgae”.

England's population during the late Iron Age was about 2 million, and by the time the Romans left, it would be 3 million.  It was a flourishing, wealthy country, with a surplus of corn, which was why the Romans wanted to invade it.

The south of England was particularly well-off.  In south-eastern and central southern England, there was a spread of settlements with extensive towns & villages, markets, industries, shrines, cemeteries and fields.  Julius Caesar stated that “the population is very large, their homesteads thick on the ground and very much like those in Gaul, and the cattle numerous.  As money they use either bronze or gold coins or iron bars with a fixed standard of weight.”  The coins had the stamp of powerful leaders, and made trade easier between tribes.

The further north you went, the less there was of all this.  This was because the southern tribes had been trading extensively with Rome and Romanized Gaul long before the Roman invasion.  They loved certain foods and luxury goods, and were Romanized to a fair extent.

But they still had their ancient tribal ways as well.  There was consistent warfare between tribes, and various leaders appealed to Rome for assistance.  Large earthworks were built as boundaries.  The warriors rode chariots to battle, and were naked, covering their bodies with blue woad, and having pierced tattoos.  Caesar wrote: “They wear their hair long, and shave all their bodies with the exception of their heads and their upper lips.”

[mezzopurrloin]

Chapter 4-7: Twilight of the Gods

On the eve of Archimonde's assault on Mount Hyjal, Malfurion has a vision in a dream.

A familiar raven flies in.

It's you again, of course.

The Prophet is Medivh, another major figure from the backstory. This really isn't much of a spoiler, as he's easily recognizable by his distinctive outfit and affinity for ravens. If you load up the editor, he's labeled as Medivh there too.

Dawn has come, and Archimonde's attack commences. If he reaches the World Tree, and the Well of Eternity beneath it, all hope is lost.

All three of the Alliance, Horde, and Sentinels are ready to stand against him.

Malfurion places a seal on the gate to the World Tree.

We start with three bases and control of most of the map. Our main has two extra gold mines nearby, which I made sure to claim as soon as possible.

This is a defensive mission and we'll need to give it all we've got to delay Archimonde's army. Jaina's Human base is on the front lines, followed by Thrall's Orcs, with our own base at the foot of the World Tree.

Hippogryph: Flying assault beast that can attack other flyers in melee. Can't attack ground units.

Ancient of Wind: Ancient that trains flying units. Produces Hippogryphs and Druids of the Talon. I actually unlocked this last mission and forgot to mention it there.

There is an ultimate unit for the Night Elves, but for whatever reason we don't get to use it in this campaign. We'll have to wait until the expansion to see it.

The attack waves come early on and they don't let up. Tyrande starts out in Jaina's base, ready to fight them off. I sent Malfurion and some support down as soon as I could, while also working on researching every upgrade.

Both of them have gained a level since we last saw them, and Malfurion now has his ultimate available.

Tranquility: A channeling spell that calls down waves of healing rain in an area around the caster, healing all allied units in a large radius.

This doesn't seem like much, but it's a huge help since we're dealing with very big armies here. It has a shorter cooldown than other ultimates and can be used both in combat and out of it to patch up between waves.

Hippogryph Rider: Created by combining an Archer and a Hippogryph. Combines the Hippogryph's aerial mobility with the Archer's ranged attack, and has the combined health of both units.

All upgrades that benefit Archers also benefit Hippogryph Riders, since they have the same base attack. They can dismount from the Hippogryph at any time if needed.

We're gonna be getting a lot of use out of Starfall too, since the attack waves just keep coming.

There are three enemy heroes, all level 10. The first one we see is this Lich here.

The second one is a Dreadlord. Hey wait, this is that fat Dreadlord from that one cutscene. I sure didn't think I'd see him again.

The last one is a Pit Lord, a heavy melee warrior with Shockwave, Thunder Clap, Earthquake, and Reincarnation. Yes, two ultimates, because that's fair. Pit Lords would later become a distinct hero type with unique abilities, but that didn't happen until the expansion.

The fights get big and very chaotic. I didn't really do too much micromanagement, except for casting Starfall and Tranquility whenever I could. I built Ancients of War, Lore, and Wind in Jaina's base in order to be able to produce units on the front line quickly, and just tried to keep a big ball of whatever units I could ready at the gate.

Having the Ancients so close was very useful for replenishing lost forces, and we lost a whole lot of forces fending these guys off. With 30 minutes left, we're a third of the way through, and Jaina's base is still holding strong.

Tyrande and Malfurion have both leveled to 10 by now, thanks to fighting off all the repeated attacks.

The attacks just keep coming, and I just keep producing units to fend them off. I stayed in High Upkeep for pretty much all of this mission, which having 3 mines helped me support.

15 minutes left. I think normally you're supposed to have lost this base by this point, but I'm not giving it up. If Archimonde wants to take it down he'll have to do better than this.

Wisps are starting to gather at the roots of the World Tree.

10 minutes left and we're still holding the line.

With a little more than 5 minutes left, we're attracting quite the crowd of wisps up here.

Tyrande has fallen, and my army is shattered. It looks like we're losing this base after all. All good things must come to an end.

I had my Ancients fall back to Thrall's base, and worked on reviving Tyrande as soon as I could.

Near my base is a mercenary camp where furbolgs can be hired. This would be pretty helpful, but the mission's nearly over now.

Archimonde can brag all he wants, but he doesn't have enough time to break through the remaining defenses.

Good response.

And there we are.

Archimonde destroys the buildings in his path without even a wave of his hand.

Malfurion blows the Horn of Cenarius...

...and the wisps answer the call.

Now of course, this doesn't make much sense in gameplay terms, since Wisps can't even attack. However, as was recently pointed out to me, Wisps' Detonate deals damage to summoned units. And Kel'Thuzad summoned Archimonde, so technically...

Archimonde explodes, setting the forest ablaze.

Medivh provides some narration.

"...as will the entire world."

"Just as the orcs, humans, and night elves discarded their old hatreds and stood united against a common foe, so did nature herself rise up to banish the shadow forever. As for me..."

"...to teach the world that it no longer needed guardians. The hope for future generations has always resided in mortal hands. And now that my task is done, I will take my place amongst the legends of the past."

That's the end of the Reign of Chaos story.

We're not finished with this game, though. We still have the Frozen Throne storyline to work through. We'll get started on that next time.

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] Rebirth of Kaiser:  Chapter 11

Juudai stepped out of the shadows, looked around, blinked, and waved at the three people, two dogs, and a bird staring at him.

“Hi! I didn’t interrupt anything did I?”

Juudai didn’t wait for an answer. He just strolled off down the street, knowing they would wave off what they’d seen. People usually did.

They won’t always.

He smiled toward Yubel. They will for now. People don’t come out of shadows, do they? Normally, I mean. So they’ll decide they saw something else or pretend they never saw it at all.

Yubel didn’t answer. They’d had this argument before. He really did prefer coming out where most people couldn’t see him, but even after all these years, he couldn’t pinpoint it as well as he would have liked to.

But now he had something else to think about as he headed down, working on getting himself oriented. Once he’d decided he’d arrived in Domino City – not all that far from the Kame Game Shop, really, he would have to drop in and see if Yuugi-san was there – he dug his phone out of his pocket and checked his messages.

Most of them he expected. A few wrong numbers, Manjoume blistering him out because he hadn’t shown up to a duel – Jim reminding him that he’d promised to come and visit over the next holidays – then Shou.

Juudai listened to the message once and then again, his heart pattering faster before he breathed in enough to relax.

“I should have known,” he muttered, carefully putting the phone away.

You’ll have to tell him. Yubel advised. Juudai could feel something that might have been the edges of a smile tugging on his lips. The first year or so after Kaiser’s… departure… Yubel insisted on not letting anyone know about where he lived now. They’d mellowed on that some with the passage of time.

He glanced around again. He knew the main reason he’d come back here today had been to talk to Johan, to tell him what Yubel already told him about what they’d picked up in the village.

“We can take another trip, can’t we?” Juudai asked, eyes darting about as he searched for a patch of shadow thick enough to do what he needed to do.

He couldn’t see Yubel roll their eyes but he could feel it all the same.

Of course we can. But Johan needs to know this as well.

Juudai wondered for a moment how many secrets he actually kept from people. There were far more than he could really think about, and some he wouldn’t ever let on to anyone, no matter what.

But at least he could pass these on and that would be a little less that he had to worry about. Or more, just in a different way.

The biggest, deepest patch of shadow that he saw turned out to be cast by the Kame Game Shop itself. Juudai observed it for a few moments, still wishing that he had the time to go inside and say hello. It had been months since he’d visited Yuugi-san and he missed his friend.

Another time.

Yubel was right. As much as he wished they weren’t at times.

I’m always right.

Of course they were. He stuck his mental tongue out at them, stepped into the shadow of the store, and stepped out again two doors down from Shou’s apartment, a trip that would have taken a day and a half by foot and an hour or so if he’d bothered with trains.

Being him had some fun advantages, really.

Juudai made his way to the door. He could have emerged inside of it, but when it came to his friends, he preferred knocking sometimes. Unless he had something else on his mind and just didn’t bother to observe the niceties.

He didn’t have a chance to knock this time. The door swung open and Shou stood there. He’d grown several inches after graduation. He wouldn’t ever be as tall as his brother, but he hovered around average height. Sometimes Juudai couldn’t help but be surprised that his old friend looked like he’d just gotten repackaged a little bigger.

Shou blinked at him for a heartbeat or two before he flung his arms around Juudai and hugged him.

“Aniki! You came!”

“Of course I did!” Juudai ruffled Shou’s hair, not failing to grin, that old friendship warming him from the inside out. “Did you really think I wouldn’t?”

“I wasn’t expecting you this soon.” Shou stepped back enough to give him a stern look. “I thought you might stay away for another month or so.”

It wouldn’t have been the first time if he did, and Juudai knew it. His travels took him wherever he was needed. Sometimes he didn’t set foot back on Earth soil for weeks or months at a time.

Once he hadn’t been able to make it home for a month shy of a year. His voicemail box had been stuffed to the gills.

Shou tugged him towards the apartment door. “We should probably talk inside,” he said, casting a glance around. Juudai didn’t protest, though he was a touch curious now.

“Were you going out?” He indicated the jacket Shou had on. Shou shook his head.

“Nothing that I can’t postpone.” He didn’t quite push Juudai inside, but he shifted from foot to foot, glancing up and down and all around as if worried someone might step out of thin air – someone who wasn’t Juudai.

No sooner had Juudai crossed the threshold and Shou shut the door, his former roommate turned to look him directly in the eyes. Juudai didn’t think that he’d ever seen Shou looking so serious or so hopeful before.

All Shou’s message said was that there was something they should talk about. Only one thing came to mind that Juudai thought Shou would really want to talk about with such urgency.

“My brother’s alive, isn’t he? Somehow? And you know where he is.”

One thing Juudai could say for Shou right now, he got down to the absolute point. He managed a small smile. He wasn’t sure where it came from, only that it was there when he needed it.

“You’re right. We do need to talk.”

High above the plains she circled, metallic wings gleaming in the brilliant light of the sun. She couldn’t hear what they talked about down there, but she didn’t need to. She just wanted to know where they were.

There’d never been a harpy born who couldn’t find their prey, and once found, never lost again.

Her claws flexed. She wanted to swoop down and take him away, drag him to the others, let them all rejoice in him having been found. But that wasn’t possible. Not yet, at any rate.

She spun and darted ahead, too quick for the eye to follow, too high to resemble anything but a bird crossing the noon sky. It would take someone else in the air to recognize her for what she was, and those below stood no chance at all.

When she dropped down again, it was to stand in front of a group of warriors, each clad in identical armor, but one standing in the front, the marks of a captain on her helmet.

“Cyber Harpie. Report.” She spoke as soon as the harpy’s talons gripped onto the rock she’d chosen for a perch. Not the best of perches, but the trees here were too thick for her purposes right now. They could be useful later, though.

“I saw him,” Cyber Harpie declared, eyes burning bright at the memory. “I saw him.”

“Where was he?” The questions rose up from the gathered warriors rapidly. “What’s he like? Are you sure?”

The captain gestured and the questions died at once. Cyber Harpie gathered herself.

“I couldn’t get close enough to see his face, but he and a traveling companion are on the way to the market town this way.” She tilted her head towards the road they stood in formation near. “I didn’t dare get close enough to hear them or to feel his effect.”

Soft murmurs of disappointment whispered among them, which were dispelled at once by another abrupt gesture from the captain.

“You’re certain it’s him, though?”

Cyber Harpie nodded, talons slicing at the stone beneath her. “You’ll see it for yourself and you can get closer than I can.”

“How can you be so certain?” One of the sergeants wanted to know. “If you couldn’t get close enough to feel his effect or even see his face, are you sure it’s him? We don’t dare make a mistake.”

Cyber Harpie snarled, loathing being accused of falsehood. “He’s the one we’re searching for. The Kaiser who will bring us strength.”

The captain cleared her throat. “We’ll know for certain when we cross paths with him. If he’s not, we’ll search again.”

“We don’t have that much time, captain,” the sergeant pointed out. “If we make a mistake with him, we’ll not have enough time to find the true one.”

“We have time. Not much of it, but enough.” The captain drew herself up, turning to look down the winding trail. “We wait until they return, however.”

Protests at once sprang up, the sergeant’s voice chief among them. But the captain again silenced them with a look.

“They may be alert now, but when they return, they’ll be tired and more likely to let the guard down. Then we’ll take them.”

“Why both of them” The sergeant asked, frowning. “We only need the Kaiser.”

Cyber Harpie raised a claw. “I wasn’t close enough to see much, but I could feel something. His companion is a shadow mage.”

The captain nodded, as if she’d expected that all along. “Because a shadow mage’s help could be very useful in this war. Now, clear off and get marching. We’re going to set up camp back there.” She nodded towards the mountains before she turned back to Cyber Harpie. “Go to the market town. See if you can keep tracking them there and alert me if anything else we should know turns up.”

Cyber Harpie took to the skies without another word. When her captain ordered, she obeyed. Plus, she looked forward to exploring the market town and seeing what could be found there. She had a few connections there: there were Amazons who she’d chatted with on previous visits who would gladly trade news for interesting items she possessed.

That would require a bit of backflying, though. Her precious cache of gems lay hidden where only she could find it. But she had time. The Kaiser and the magician wouldn’t get to the town until the following day and she could make the trip ever so much faster.

He scrambled along after them, keeping himself as closely pressed to the ground as he could, keeping upwind to ensure they neither saw nor heard or scented him. He’d spent a great deal of his life spying and surviving and he wasn’t going to fail because of humans.

Or a human and a spirit. They couldn’t scent him – dull human senses the lot of them, even the spirit – but he could pick up a great deal from their scents, and he could tell the difference between the two easily enough.

Dark Familiar made certain that he wouldn’t be seen, as he did every time he watched them, and peeked up out of the tall grass. He’d done this many times since he’d caught up to them and even when they’d looked in his direction he hadn’t been seen.

Silly, useless things. He knew the stories; he’d known that this one called the Kaiser carried the reputation of having killed Haou in the old days. Even if he hadn’t done it – and he hadn’t, Dark Familiar had seen that duel and he knew the human who did the deed died in the doing – he was still a formidable warrior and not one that Dark Familiar wanted to face.

Why can’t she just let things go? It’s been years. Mourn the dead and move on. Find a new path. That’s what he’d done. But Chaos Hunter insisted on her revenge and she’d dragged him into this.

She’d regret it all. He didn’t doubt that for a moment. All he could do was hope that he wouldn’t end up regretting it too.

To Be Continued

Notes: Do you know how hard it is to find cards that involve ‘Cyber’ in the title and yet Ryou or Asuka didn’t play them?

[sage-nebula]

Top 5 Pokemon types (I assume Fire and Dragon will be up there!), top 5 Pokemon locations (from any regions, gameverse or animeverse), top 5 BotW locations, top 5 Zelda characters that aren't Zelda or Link, aaand top 5 Hogwarts classes!

Hmmmm, let’s see!

Top 5 Pokémon Types:

Fire

Ghost

Dark

Dragon

. . . Normal . . . ?

Fire has been my favorite since Gen I, wherein I gleefully set Erika’s entire gym ablaze with my charizard, laughing all the while at the idea of grass-types posing a threat to me. (I’m awful, I know.) I also have two on my One True Team™, so that’s a testament to how much I love them, haha. I loooooove most ghost-types, both in terms of lore and overall design, but I never had one on my OTT™ until Gen VII graced us with the amazing grace that is mimikyu. Dark-types are also great; I love most dark-types, even if the only one I have my OTT™ is my umbreon. When it comes to dragons, I prefer ones that are dragon by species over dragon-type, technically (e.g. I’m always going to prefer charizard and consider charizard to be more of a dragon than, say, Alolan exeggutor, which may be a dragon-type but is not an actual dragon by species), but a lot of dragons by species are also dragon by type, so it still does count. And lastly, I don’t think I have a fifth favorite, but, uh . . . normal types are cute . . . ? Hahaha.

Top 5 Pokémon Locations:

These are practically all going to be in Johto, orz. All the same, not in any particular order:

The Charicific Valley --- It’s literally a wild charizard reserve, what’s not to love? Even if it’s anime only, it’s still a place where charizard can live freely and happily. It’s a dream come true, tbh.

Ilex Forest / Celebi’s Shrine --- This whole area has a very mystical feeling, especially since Celebi’s Shrine is so unassuming, yet so important when it comes to the fact that a time-traveling legendary has an attachment to it. And it makes you wonder, like, did people used to pray here? Is it possible that the people of Azalea Town still do? Johto pays so much more adherence to legends than Kanto does, so it’s possible . . . but it’s also possible that it’s forgotten. Ilex Forest just has a sort of Lost Woods vibe to it, though. I love it.

The Burned Tower / Bell Tower --- Likewise, I love both of these towers for a similar reason. There’s so much history here, and with the Bell Tower especially you know that it still is visited by Ho-Oh in the right circumstances. These are sacred places, even if (or perhaps especially because) one of them was burned to the ground. It just has that sort of feeling to it, that you’re walking somewhere special whenever you go there.

The Ruins of Alph --- THE GREATEST MYSTERY IN THE WORLD, THE GREATEST SOURCE OF LOST POTENTIAL, LIKE---what is this place? Why is this place the way it is? Radio signals don’t work there. The unown haunt it. But why? We know that the Sinjoh Ruins might have something to do with it, given the connection there, and that Arceus and the unown have some kind of connection, but we still don’t know what, precisely, that connection is. There’s so much mystery and I feel that there’s so much more to be done with the Ruins of Alph, more dimensions that can be accessed from them, more that can be uncovered and explored. I want to uncover that, I want to see it!

All of the mystical / legendary islands in Hoenn --- Okay, there are too many to list here, but like . . . Mirage Island, which changes location and really does appear and disappear like a mirage. Faraway Island, which to this day is the only known habitat of Mew. Birth Island, where you find Deoxys in the original Gen III games. Southern Island, where you find one of the Latis. And all of the mystical islands where you find Hoopa’s Rings in ORAS. Like . . . these places, they’re always so remote, the music is usually mystical and fills you with this sense of wonder and legend and myth. God, I crave this sort of thing, these are always my favorite places, and Hoenn was so great for that because they could include so many different little islands scattered throughout the region. (Something you would think Alola would have done as well, but alas . . .)

So yeah, all my favorite places are in, like, Johto or Hoenn, hahaha. But really, I love mystical, legend-infused places. Give me your remote islands with legendaries. Give me your sacred places of ancient worship. Give me your alternate dimensions with your eldritch abominations. I want to see and explore it all.

Top 5 BotW Locations:

My House --- I’m really attached to the idea that Link has a home, haha. I like to keep Keith there a lot, I always go back there to cook, et cetera. I really love that Link has a place to call home amidst all the adventuring and traveling.

The Temple of Time --- I’m mad that the Temple of Time can’t play an actually important role in this game, even if I kind of understand it. Even so, I’m very attached to the Temple of Time and probably always will be. It’s sacred to me even if it’s just a cool place in this game where the Old Man tells you who he really is.

The Lost Woods --- This is the best rendition of the Lost Woods yet. Although I’m not too fond of Korok Village itself (too many framerate drops, the music isn’t great, Koroks are annoying), I love the Lost Woods, how creepy and ethereal they are, and the music is fantastic. A++++, best Lost Woods yet.

The Forgotten Temple --- One of my newest favorite locations. To me, the Forgotten Temple is definitely linked to SS. How much is debatable; that’s clearly the Statue of the Goddess in the very back, but I’m not sure if this temple is supposed to be the Sealed Grounds (maybe built on top of the Sealed Grounds?) or what. But it has a very mystical feel to it all the same, so I love it.

The Mounted Archery Camp --- In truth, I can’t decide on a fifth, so this one will go here because JINI IS WAITING COME WIND OR STORM, AND WANTS LINK TO BE CAREFUL. ;__; JINIIIIIII

I’m really attached to Jini, okay.

Top 5 Zelda Characters (that aren’t Zelda or Link):

Tatl --- Tatl is always going to be best companion, best girl, as far as I’m concerned. I love how she actually had a full personality of her own; she’s incredibly snarky (especially in the N64 original; they toned her down for the 3DS remake and I’m mad), unwilling to help at first, and is extremely focused on protecting her little brother, Tael, regardless of what happens to others. But she develops; she becomes more helpful, more attached to Link as well, and she even continues to develop after you beat the game once, because the first time you go to the moon she doesn’t want to go until Tael says that, fine, he’ll go. Every time after that she jumps at the chance, saying that Link is her partner and if he’s going, she’s going, too. I love how much development, personality, and history she gets. She even gets it in response to other characters, such as how she keeps snarking Kafei as he tells his story. Tatl’s not a perfect person, but I love that. I love her. (And I mean, she’s a wonderfully protective big sis. Give credit where credit is due.)

Urbosa --- QUEEN. Urbosa is everything I ever wanted from the Gerudo and more. She’s clearly a fierce warrior, but she also has a nurturing aspect to her as well with how she looks after Zelda and the others. She’s incredibly badass with the way she calls lightning with finger snaps. And on top of it all, she calls upon Gerudo history and marks her beef with Calamity Ganon as being personal due to the time he was reincarnated as a Gerudo. Fuckin’---I love her. Far and away the best Champion in the game (excluding Link, of course). I love her. 

Marin --- Marin is especially notable because of how much characterization she got despite the fact that Link’s Awakening is a GB game. She could have easily been just another boring maiden, but we see that she, too, takes to calling Link “thief” if he steals from the shop; Link gets to go on a date with her, in which we see more of her personality through the various shenanigans they get up to; and we even learn that she has suspicions about a world outside of Koholint Island, that while everyone else on Koholint believes that there is no world outside of the island, she does. And she’s so desperate to see what’s out there that she daydreams about being a seagull, just so she can fly away. That’s pretty deep for a GB!Zelda character, and I love that she was fleshed out so much. I’m always going to love my girl Marin, and I’ll always headcanon that she, like Link, washed up on Koholint’s shore. I hope that she got to find a life outside of the island one day, as a person or seagull or otherwise.

Kafei --- Not only is Kafei being notable for one of the few (and perhaps the first) instances where you get to play as someone other than Link temporarily, but I love him as a character, too. I think my favorite part of Kafei is how deadpan he is about so many things; he refuses to even acknowledge Tatl’s snarking, much less rise to it, and he insists on calling Link “green-hat boy” for pretty much the entire time they know each other. But he’s also so sincere; if you fail to get the Sun’s Mask back, his despair over losing it is palpable. I do wish he realized that Anju would accept him regardless, but even so, that’s just another fault, and characters who have flaws are good. I love Kafei, he’s great. (And I also still believe that he’s a Terminian Sheikah.)

Fi --- Lastly, Fi. I wish that we saw more development from her over the course of the game, but the connection between the Hero and the Master Sword has always been important to me, and SS just made it even more so. Her goodbye can still bring tears to my eyes. Here’s hoping that the BotW DLC gives us a chance to see her interact with this Link. Please, Nintendo. Please.

Top 5 Hogwarts Classes:

Care of Magical Creatures

Defense Against the Dark Arts

Transfiguration

Charms

Ancient Runes

Those are the ones I’d be most interested in, anyway!