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undermounts · 4 years ago

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Empire of Light—Chapter 4: The Ties That Bind

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Fic Summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of Ash, the party travels across Morella in search of allies to defeat the Empire of Ash, once and for all.

Chapter Summary: Back in Flotilla, Imtura makes a risky move to secure her mother’s fleet.

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Imtura had expected a lot of things to happen when the Wraith docked at Flotilla last night. She had expected the Flotillan guards to swamp her ship—which they did—and fuss over her, flinging royal titles left and right as they knelt at her feet like a pack of obedient dogs—which they also did.

She did not, however, expect to find that her mother was gone.

“What do you mean, ‘she’s not here?’” Imtura snarled, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Behind her, Kraglin and the rest of the crew set about unloading the Wraith’s cargo hold of old supplies and preparing the ship for a few days at port. No one knew how long they would be docked at Flotilla; Imtura supposed it depended on how stubborn her mother decided to be.

The guards before her stiffened, taken aback by the viciousness of her tone. “Her Majesty is away on business—”

Imtura’s brows lowered. “What kind of business?”

“It is not for us to say, Your High—”

“Then what good are you?” she snapped before the man could eke out that wretched title. She glanced at Kraglin, who stood behind her, then Morrigan, who stood beside him, gazing at the floating city with unmasked wonder. Imtura sighed, biting at her lip ring. “When will she be back?”

“We don’t know for certain. It could be as late as tomorrow evening,” one of the guards replied cautiously.

“Tomo—” Imtura cut herself off, reining in her anger. She closed her eyes shut and took a deep, steadying breath, reminding herself that these men were not responsible for her mother’s activities. No one was, aside from Ventra herself. When Imtura opened her eyes again, her temper had cooled somewhat, although her irritation remained. She shook her head, unable to stop her gaze from wandering to the eastern horizon. “I can’t wait that long.”

But left with no other options, she had waited.

After a restless sleep on the Wraith, Imtura dedicated the next morning to giving Morrigan a thorough tour of the sprawling maze of floating walkways and retired vessels of Flotilla, tossing out the names of her favorite ships as she went. The Black Spire, the Copper Thief, the Bloodkraken, the Maiden of the Sea… Imtura did not even realize she knew the names of all of these places until the words were spilling out of her mouth, her voice taking on a tinge of excitement every time she urged Morrigan to take notice of something she loved so dearly.

There was her favorite tavern, the Sailor’s Lament, which had ale that tasted like stale seawater, but she’d be damned if it wasn’t one of the cheapest and strongest drinks in Flotilla. They passed the supply mill that always gave her a few extra bags of salt for meat, not because she was Princess Imtura, but Captain Tal Kaelen, and here in the reaches of Flotilla that knew Imtura better than Ventra—out there on the roiling waves of the Cartesian Sea—she was respected as such.

Morrigan had gone red with laughter as Imtura pointed out an old, repurposed ship that was charmingly named Taldaro’s Tit, after the legendary orc Vinestra of Clan Taldaro, who was not only known for inventing the modern warship and her incredible prowess in battle, but also her equally incredible prowess in the bedroom. Taldaro’s Tit—yes, tit singular, not plural, and if anyone bothered to ask, the Flotillans swore up and down that it was specifically, “the right tit not the left”—was the best place to go dancing after downing a few drinks in the taverns.

“You must love this place,” Morrigan noted, as she reverently ran her fingertips along the hull of a bobbing ship as they passed, the feathers of her wings whispering in the briny breeze that swept through the city. “Flotilla, I mean.”

Imtura lifted a brow, glancing over her shoulder at Morrigan as she swaggered down the wooden walkways. It was a bit of a strange feeling, to finally have to look up at someone else as she spoke. Morrigan wasn’t built like Imtura, but she did have a good couple of inches on the orc captain, and Imtura knew that her strength wasn’t something to scoff at.

“You think so, birdie?” she questioned.

Morrigan nodded, gazing around. “The way you talk about Flotilla… It’s the same way my brother talks about the Aerie. With such fondness and familiarity.”

Imtura shrugged, shoving her hands into her pockets as she ambled along. “I’m fond of it, yeah. And I know the city like the back of my hand. It’s familiar.”

“Well,” Morrigan said casually, glancing over at Imtura. “Maybe knowing something and loving something aren’t all that different.”

Imtura thought that over for a few moments, then bobbed her head. “Maybe you’ve got a point. I know all about the less than amazing parts of the city, and sometimes… Well, sometimes coming back here bums me out,” she confessed. “Feels a bit like swapping out the sea for some shackles.” She shook her head and shrugged. “But no matter what happens, it’ll always be home.”

Imtura mulled this conversation over as she sat at a rickety, ale-stained table in a cozy corner of the Sailor’s Lament, an untouched stein resting by her elbow. After wrapping up her tour with Morrigan, Imtura spent the next few hours whipping the Wraith into tip top shape. She swabbed the deck, replaced frayed sections of the rigging, and chipped barnacles off the hull—it was menial work, housekeeping chores that Imtura had not done since she herself was a swabbie.

That must have been… almost a decade ago, at least. Imtura could not wrap her head around the fact that it had been nearly ten years since that fateful evening, when she had ran away from Flotilla and stowed herself away on the infamous Sea King. But that was another story.

Repairing the Wraith was not stimulating work, but it was distracting, and Imtura was more than happy to take on the tasks, if only so she could have something to do while she waited for her dreaded mother to finally grace her with an appearance.

But the crew—namely Kraglin, with his damned big heart—put their foot down when Imtura started polishing the Wraith’s hull.

“What kind of pirate lets their captain do all of the work?” Kraglin had exclaimed jovially before stooping to grab Imtura’s legs while his twin brother, Marglin, grabbed her shoulders and began to haul her, kicking and spewing obscenities, off the ship. “You’ve got to have some fun, boss.”

They dragged her, and consequently, Morrigan, into the Flotillan nightlife, down the bobbing, uneven avenues, all the way to the Sailor’s Lament, where her quartermaster and boatswain ordered a round of ale for the entire crew, including that yellow-bellied, doe-eyed, Parnassus cabin boy.

“This is coming out of your coin, not mine,” Imtura snarled as they set her down at a booth in the far corner of the tavern and gave her a tankard, much to their merry amusement.

“Sure thing, boss,” Marglin promised placatingly, ordering a platter of roasted octopus, fried fish heads, and seaweed skewers for the table. “Sure thing.”

With a mixture of warmth and amusement, Imtura watched her crewmates guzzle down their rounds from her spot in the secluded booth, ale sloshing over the edges of their tankards, and Morrigan sandwiched in between them. She was glad to see that her crew had quickly taken the winged woman in, treating her like one of their own, and Morrigan, to her credit, had no problem in keeping up with their revelry.

By the Moon, Morrigan matched Iskra—the Wraith’s navigator—pint for pint without losing her wits, and that woman could drink most orcs under the table. Morrigan also didn’t even bat an eye at the strange array of food. Imtura reckoned that in Rysoth, she’d probably seen stranger.

Imtura wished she could join them, that she could laugh, and dance, and get so irrefutably drunk, she couldn't even remember her own damn name. But for the first time in her swashbuckling life, she did not drink.

She simply couldn’t. There was too much resting on this meeting with Ventra, and even though being a little drunk may have been the only hope she had of getting through said meeting with her sanity intact, it would do no good to anyone for her to show up boozed off her feet. Her mother was already disappointed in her enough.

Imtura watched Morrigan, the members of her crew, and the other Flotillans with a warm sort of contentment that wriggled its way into her anxious heart. She supposed that even if this whole meeting with Ventra went to complete and utter shit, there was one good thing that came out of her return to Flotilla: she got to bring her crew home once more, got to give them this small slice of normalcy before the world went arse up again.

Imtura reached into her pocket and pulled out a single gold doubloon. It was an old piece, dated from before the current Morellian currency was established, and was the first bit of gold Imtura had ever earned as a pirate, a gift from one great captain to another. Only Imtura hadn’t been a captain then. Just a runaway princess, trying to find where she belonged.

Imtura flipped the coin on her thumb and caught it, weighing it thoughtfully in her palm. On one side, it featured a familiar curving symbol. At the bottom, there was a curled arch that looked like a wave poised to crash. Above that was a seashell-like spiral, with two great horns sprouting from the sides. The symbol of her people. The other side featured a crude depiction of land and sea meeting beneath a sky full of stars.

Both faces were worn, both from age and years of Imtura rubbing her thumb against its surface whenever she felt the weight of leadership to be particularly heavy upon her shoulders. She set it on the old, wooden table and spun it on its edge, the lantern lights of the tavern flickering on its golden face.

If I ever find it… I’ll let you know.

The coin spun and spun, then wobbled and wavered.

Then, you can bring our people home.

It was a foolish plan, a dreamer’s hope. Imtura knew that place was long gone, lost to fire, to the sea, and to time itself. To go looking for it… That was like chasing a child’s fairytale.

But…

She had seen many impossible things, even before getting involved with this Shadow Realm business. She had seen so many wonders… What was one more?

Imtura caught the doubloon as it fell, swiping her thumb over the surface that featured the landscape. Then, she pocketed it and stood.

After leaving a quick word with Kraglin, Imtura ducked out of the Sailor’s Lament and made her way across the bobbing walkways of Flotilla, acknowledging the passing nods of respect she got as Captain and ignoring the deferential inclinations she received as Princess.

Officially, Flotilla had no temples or shrines dedicated to elements of nature the orcs worshipped: the Skies, the Winds, the Ocean, the Earth, the Sun, the Stars, and the Moon. Unlike the Faith of the Light and the Shared Pantheon, religion among the orcs was decentralized, piety left to the individual. But there were places in the floating city in which Imtura’s people liked to leave their offerings.

The Sea Nymph was one such place.

Imtura crossed the gangway onto an old, barnacle-covered ship, reaching out to affectionately pat its hull as she boarded. On the bow of the ancient vessel, the name was painted in flowing script, the white paint faded with age.

Barely an adolescent, Imtura had not been around when Ventra officially won over all of the orc fleets and established Flotilla as her capital. Instead, she had been hidden away on a ship with a few trusted orcs of the Minurva Clan, far away from all of the danger and political turmoil as her mother upended centuries of tradition.

But Imtura heard that at the time, when Flotilla was little more than a small cluster of old ships and floating shacks, the Sea Nymph had already been stationed here, with a small collection of oddities already hidden inside. There were even rumors that the Sea Nymph was the first ship in Flotilla, the starting point around which the rest of the floating city had been constructed.

Imtura did not know if those rumors were true, but the Sea Nymph was certainly weathered enough to fit the tale, and in the last decade, no one had ever claimed ownership of the vessel. As such, its wellbeing was left in the collective hands of the Flotillans, which was probably why it had fallen into a state of such disrepair.

As she crossed the deck of the orphaned vessel and descended the stairs that led into its belly, Imtura found herself wishing she could have seen the Sea Nymph in its heyday. Even with all of its rotted wood and the massive holes that gaped in the floors, there were still vestiges of its past glory—faded gold filigree on the bannister, waterlogged wool rugs, chipped carvings of mermaids laid into the creaking walls…

Once, it must have been beautiful.

But now, Imtura supposed the ship had a different kind of beauty, and if she was being honest, she preferred it. Deep in the vessel’s cargo hold, Imtura was surrounded by the multitude of offerings orcs from all across the Cartesian Sea had left here for the elements.

Windchimes and sparkling bits of glass hung from the ceiling, tinkling softly with the swaying motion of the ship and the lazy breeze that streamed through the cracks in the hull—offerings to the Skies and the Winds.

An old fur rug sat in the back corner, right in the path of the moonlight that streamed into the room through a hole in the side of the ship. On top of the rug sat precious gemstones and silver dimes, offerings laid out for the Moon and the Stars.

Imtura crossed to the ship’s stern and clambered up a ladder made of rope, hauling herself into what had once been the quarters of the Sea Nymph’s captain. The bedroom was in no better shape than the rest of the ship—the main entrance was obstructed by fallen beams and splintered wood, the velvet canopy of the bed was peppered with holes and coated in dust. But it still held an air of sanctity and whispers of grandeur.

The doors to the balcony had been left open by the last visitor, the tattered curtains flowing like strands of spider silk. Imtura crossed onto the balcony, which served as yet another shrine. Shells, broken bits of coral, and even small pieces of ships—the knob of a wheel, a shredded flag—were balanced atop the railing or laid on the ground. But the majority of the offerings made to the Ocean were dropped over the side of the balustrade, right into the sea itself.

Imtura reached into her pockets, fingers scrounging around for anything she could offer up to the elements. All she had was a bit of lint, a few ribbons to tie her off her braids, and that golden doubloon. For a moment, Imtura contemplated flipping the coin over the side of the ship, but sentimentality—and perhaps a bit of child-like hope—had her pocketing the gold piece once more. Instead, Imtura took her ribbons and tied them around the wooden posts that upheld the railing.

She watched them flutter in the wind for a moment, taking that as a sign nature had accepted her meager offering, and was about to turn when a voice behind her spoke up.

“The tavern wasn’t fun enough, for you?”

Imtura half-turned, bracing her hand against the wooden banister. A single sand dollar was nudged out of the way by her fingers and fell into the gentle waves with a plunk!

“Morrigan.” Imtura relaxed slightly, dropping the hand that had instinctively moved to hover over one of her axes. “Like sneaking up on me, do you?”

Morrigan shook her head. “I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you. You were just…” she shrugged, her gaze roaming over Imtura’s head. “Deep into your own thoughts, I suppose. What is this place?” she asked, looking around the captain’s cabin with an unreadable expression. “It’s…”

Imtura half-expected her to say “old” or “a wreck” or perhaps “a rotting shithole” and frankly, she would have been right to do so.

But instead, Morrigan said, “Incredible.”

Imtura let out a little breath, lips easing into a casual smile. “Isn’t it? This is where we orcs sometimes come to give up offerings to the elements. There’s no other place in Flotilla like it.”

“Give up offerings?” Morrigan asked, joining Imtura on the balcony. She tucked her wings in tight behind her, taking care to avoid knocking over any of the items strewn about. “Is that what you were doing just now? Making an offering?”

“Yeah,” Imtura shrugged, glancing down at the ribbons that danced in the breeze. “S’pose so.”

“I didn’t take you for the religious type,” Morrigan noted although there was no judgment or accusation in her voice.

“I’m not, really,” Imtura admitted, tapping her fingers against the railing. “At least not in the way that the humans, elves, and your folk are. I didn’t even believe in the gods until recently.” She turned away, fixing her attention on the slivers of the dark horizon that were visible in between other ships and bobbing structures. “We orcs don’t have temples or priests or anything like that. These offerings… they’re just meant to give back to what made us. The elements. And maybe get a little good luck along the way.”

“Good luck?” Morrigan asked, lifting a coppery brow. In the moonlight, the freckles that splashed across her cheeks looked like little stars. She smiled slightly, nudging Imtura’s elbow with her own. “What does a fearsome orc captain like you need luck for?”

Imtura huffed through her nose. “Meet my mother and then you’ll understand.”

Morrigan raised her eyebrows at Imtura for a moment, then nodded. “Ah. So, it’s like that,” she mused aloud. “You think you’ll have difficulty convincing your mother to send the fleet to Morella’s aid.”

“Without question,” Imtura replied. “She harbors no love for human kings. And as far as she’s concerned, the elves can go right on ahead and isolate themselves into extinction.”

“Harsh,” Morrigan muttered and Imtura shrugged.

“Sometimes, I can’t blame her,” she confessed, nudging aside a few offerings to brace her forearms on the railing. “I don’t agree with her, but… There was a time when my people were thought of as the scum of Morella. By some people, we still are. That’s why you’ll never find an orc east of Port Parnassus. Not just because we can’t live without the sea, but because no town would ever have us.”

Imtura laughed, the sound more harsh and bitter than she had intended it to be. “‘We lay no roots,’” she stated, shaking her head. “That’s our motto. It’s what my people have lived by ever since we lost Kell D’hana. My ancestors promised to never settle, to always seek adventure, and to chase the thrill of conquest. But look at Flotilla. A bunch of stationary ships and floating buildings.”

“By your principles, Flotilla should not exist,” Morrigan said slowly, picking up on Imtura’s line of thought.

“Exactly.” Imtura nodded, sighing heavily. “If you ask me, the reason we’re so proud to be a seafaring race is because it goes against the one thing we want but can’t have.”

“And what’s that?”

“A home,” Imtura stated somberly. “Not just Flotilla, but a real home. A place to belong. One that won’t go up in flames if a single lantern drops.”

She’d never spoken about this before, to anyone. In fact, she rarely ever gave these thoughts any time, for just thinking them felt almost treasonous. Even when she reminisced with the party, she usually only told them about how much she missed sailing and her crew. They’d always understood. But maybe that was why it was easier to talk to Morrigan. Because Morrigan didn’t understand. She didn’t know the orcs like Morellians did, didn’t know what they were and weren’t supposed to be.

“It’s all material, though,” Imtura added, feeling a bit of warmth rush to her cheeks at her confession, the uncomfortable sense of vulnerability she now felt. “I know that as long as I’ve got my crew and my freedom, I’ll be alright. ‘Home is where the heart is’ and all that.”

“Are you trying to make me believe that or are you trying to convince yourself?”

Imtura let out a startled huff, surprised—and a little impressed—by Morrigan’s bluntness. “You’re nosy aren’t you?”

Morrigan shrugged, shaking her head. “You sound like you have some stuff you’ve got to work through. I’m just trying to help you figure out what that is.”

Imtura eyed the other woman cautiously. Morrigan was fun. Fun to flirt with, fun to banter with, and Imtura was certain that there was a great deal of other kinds of fun they could get up to together. But now, Imtura began to wonder if whatever flirtation they had between them could ever be more than just fun.

She could stand to find out.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” she confessed softly, tugging at the ends of her hair. “But I feel like there’s a part of me missing. Like I’m searching for a place I’ve never been, a place that I’ve never seen. But deep down, I know it and it knows me. Even though we have never met.”

“A home,” Morrigan said, her voice equally soft.

Imtura nodded, trying not to shy away from Morrigan’s green gaze. “Yeah.”

“Do you think a place like that exists out there?” Morrigan asked.

“I don’t know that, either,” Imtura admitted. She supposed that for an adventurer, there was a lot about the world she did not know. “Maybe. I once…” She shook her head, turning her gaze to stare into the depths of the sea below them, the dark waves reflecting the silver moonlight. “I once knew a woman who planned to find out. I’ll never know if she did.”

“Well, just so you know…” Morrigan said after a few moments had passed in silence. “Whether a place like that exists or not, if you ever decide to quit swashbuckling and settle down, the Aerie would gladly have you.”

Imtura smiled at that, leaning her weight on one elbow as she looked over at Morrigan. “Well, just so you know… You’ll always have a place at my hearth. And on my ship.” Then she winked and added, “In case you ever find a storm you can’t handle.”

Morrigan grinned, shifting a little closer. “I’ve been told that the captain’s quarters are the warmest place on the Wraith. Is that true?”

“I’d say so,” Imtura replied, pushing away from the railing to take a step toward Morrigan. She reached out, fingers brushing aside a coppery strand of Morrigan’s unbound hair from her cheek. It was so rare that the Avian woman wore it outside of a plait, and Imtura was possessed by the sudden urge to run her hands through it. “But you are welcome to find out for yourself any time.”

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer,” Morrigan whispered, her cheeks rounding against Imtura’s fingertips as she smiled and began to lean in.

“As you should,” Imtura murmured, sliding her hand from Morrigan’s cheek to the back of her neck as she closed her eyes. She felt Morrigan’s breath on her skin and thought faintly that she smelled like a storm, wild and reckless. Imtura wondered if she tasted like one, too.

“Captain?”

Sunken hells.

Stifling a groan, Imtura turned away, prepared to bite the head off of whoever just interrupted them. But when she saw her quartermaster, Kraglin, standing in the captain’s quarters of the Sea Nymph, his face uncharacteristically sober, she stiffened. She knew why he had come.

Kraglin nodded, catching the look of understanding that crossed Imtura’s face.

“It’s time.”

Read the rest of the chapter on AO3!

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toyhenoctus · 4 years ago

Photo

Character Sheet: Boaz

Also featuring human!Boaz, whose name is Belle

Character Chart

Character’s full name: Boaz

Reason or meaning of name: The prince of men / Another fantasy name

Character’s nickname: Bo and The Brawler

Reason for nickname: Bo is used frequently by friends and The Brawler was given by the party

Birth date: 7/13

Rest under the cut

Physical appearance

Age: 23

How old does he/she appear: 25

Weight: 210 lbs.

Height: 6’ 4”

Body build: Mesomorph - Athletic

Shape of face: Square/Heart

Eye color: Amber

Glasses or contacts: N/A

Skin tone: Forest green

Distinguishing marks: Freckles, pierced horn and long braid

Predominant features: Easy smile

Hair color: Brown

Type of hair: Fine

Hairstyle: Fringe styled up and back, rest is gathered back tightly into a long plait

Voice: Deep and smoky

Overall attractiveness: 6/10

Physical disabilities: N/A

Usual fashion of dress: Sleeveless vest and undershirt, belt, loose trousers, knee high, steel tipped boots and wrappings

Favorite outfit: The pirate outfit

Jewelry or accessories: Two gold rings adorning her right horn

Personality

Good personality traits: Brave, loyal, charismatic

Bad personality traits: Impulsive, naive, emotional

Mood character is most often in: Happy

Sense of humor: Childish; highly amused by body humor

Character’s greatest joy in life: Realizing that she’s fallen in love

Character’s greatest fear: Being seperated from her family and friends

Why? She loves the party like her brother and sister

What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil? Losing Nia, which it did

Character is most at ease when: She’s cracking jokes with her friends

Most ill at ease when: She feels hopeless

Enraged when: Something threatens Nia

Depressed or sad when: Seeing her sister struggle with communication

Priorities: Saving Nia and Kade

Life philosophy: GO BIG OR GO HOME!

If granted one wish, it would be: To have met her parents

Why? She’s always wanted to know what they were like

Character’s soft spot: Nia

Is this soft spot obvious to others? Yes

Greatest strength: Charisma

Greatest vulnerability or weakness: Naivete and true combat inexperience

Biggest regret: Trusting Aerin

Minor regret: Being so mean to Mal in the beginning

Biggest accomplishment: Learning and mastering new spells

Minor accomplishment: Learning sign language for her sister

Past failures he/she would be embarrassed to have people know about: Oh, there are many

Why? She was a gangly, clumsy and destructive kid

Character’s darkest secret: Nothing heinous

Does anyone else know? N/A

Goals

Drives and motivations: To become a world famous adventurer and hero

Immediate goals: Destroying the Shadow Court

Long term goals: Mastering more magic and learning more about orcs

How the character plans to accomplish these goals: By grabbing the Dread Lord by the balls

How other characters will be affected: Everyone will be better for it if the Shadow Court is destroyed

Past

Hometown: Riverbend

Type of childhood: Messy but loving

Pets: N/A

First memory: Getting taken in by humans with Kade

Most important childhood memory: Breaking the family dinner table in half

Why: It was the first time and really realised that she was different from humans

Childhood hero: Mostly likely some human adventurer

Dream job: Adventurer/Hero

Education: Average literature and arithmetic as well as nature studies

Religion: N/A

Finances: N/A

Present

Current location: Riverbend

Currently living with: Urzhug and Kade

Pets: N/A

Religion: N/A

Occupation: Fledgling adventurer

Finances: She would help Urzhug dress her kills

Family

Mother: Hestia

Relationship with her: Never knew her

Father: Killian Corsair

Relationship with him: Never met

Siblings: Probably a half sibling or two out there by Killian and Urzhug and Kade

Relationship with them: Very close with Urzhug and Kade

Spouse: Not yet :D

Relationship with him/her: N/A

Children: N/A

Relationship with them: N/A

Other important family members: N/A

Favorites

Color: Yellow

Least favorite color: Purple

Music: Human music

Food: Stew

Literature: She likes heroic fiction

Form of entertainment: Pranks and music

Expressions: “Oh, I’ve got this!”

Mode of transportation: On foot

Most prized possession: The Gauntlet of Pain

Habits

Hobbies: Pulling pranks, flirting and mixing poultices

Plays a musical instrument? Yes, the lute

Plays a sport? Probably

How he/she would spend a rainy day: Playing her lute

Spending habits: She’s mostly frugal with Urzhug’s help

Smokes: No

Drinks: Yes, though not much

Other drugs: No

What does he/she do too much of? Think ahead

What does he/she do too little of? Clean up after herself

Extremely skilled at: Grappling, foraging and healing

Extremely unskilled at: Swordsmanship, archery and equestrianism

Nervous tics: Shuffling of her feet

Usual body posture: Shoulders back but typically relaxed

Mannerisms: Wide and graceless

Peculiarities: She takes her hair down and rebraids it before bed and when she wakes up

Traits

Optimist or pessimist? Optimist

Introvert or extrovert? Extrovert

Daredevil or cautious? Daredevil

Logical or emotional? Emotional

Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat? Very messy

Prefers working or relaxing? A balance of both

Confident or unsure of himself/herself? Confident

Animal lover? Yes

Self-perception

How he/she feels about himself/herself: She’s quite self assured

One word the character would use to describe self: Spectacular

What does the character consider his/her best personality trait? Bravery

What does the character consider his/her worst personality trait? Impulsiveness

What does the character consider his/her best physical characteristic? Her eyes

What does the character consider his/her worst physical characteristic? Her teeth

How does the character think others perceive him/her: Unusual

What would the character most like to change about himself/herself: She wishes her tusks were smaller like humans

Relationships with others

Opinion of other people in general: Naively positive

Does the character hide his/her true opinions and emotions from others? No

Person character most hates: Aerin

Best friend(s): Particularly Urzhug, Kade, and Mal

Love interest(s): Nia

Person character goes to for advice: Imtura and Tyril

Person character feels responsible for or takes care of: Kade

Person character feels shy or awkward around: She isn’t shy with anyone

Person character openly admires: Skullcrusher

Person character secretly admires: Imtura

Most important person in character’s life before story starts: Urzhug and Kade

After story starts: Nia

#playchoices #choices stories you play #choices #blades of light and shadow #blades choices #choices bolas #boaz

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huntress1024 · 5 years ago

Text

Crashing the Masquerade: (Tyril x MC)

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2k

Summary: This is my first ever fanfic, and it’s just how I imagined the Blades gang getting ready for the masquerade! I love the dynamic of their group!! 😊 lemme know if you want to be tagged!

Taglist: @queerbrujas

Nia chatters excitedly as Adrina braids her hair, “Just imagine! The music, the lights, the magic!” She bounces up and down at the vanity and Adrina almost pokes her with a pearl hair pin as a result.

Imtura, already in her elegant forest green and gold ensemble, scowls from the window seat. “You do realize we’re on a mission tonight, right Nia? We can’t exactly dance the night away while simultaneously waiting for a murderer to strike.”

I expect Nia to blush in her typical fashion, but I am absolutely surprised when she turns in her seat to grin at Imtura. “You look too lovely to be so cross tonight, Immy. Has it crossed your mind that we can do both?”

Our orc companion gapes, before quickly recovering and muttering under her breath, “I am going to kill Mal.” She aggressively tugs at the dress’s waistline for the third time in five minutes.

I laugh and motion for her to stand and turn around. “You have to admit, it’s a cute nickname. And Mal says it with love.” My long, nimble fingers make quick work of the gold lacings at her lower back, loosening them ever so slightly. “Better?”

She breathes a huge sigh of relief. “Much.” With a wicked glint in her eyes, she gives me a pat on the back that leaves me winded from her orc strength. “Thanks, Zammy.”

Nia clamps a hand over her mouth, but a giggle escapes anyway. I roll my eyes at the joke. “That will never catch on.”

“I don’t know, I think it’s rather catchy.” Mal waltzes in the room unannounced, Threep perched comfortably on his shoulder.

He wears a dusty charcoal jacket with coattails, gold plating running along the shoulders, arms, and belt area. A marble mask covers half of his face, adorned with a gold wing. The look is distinctly Mal, bold and daring, but refined and noble as well. He winks at me, catching my eye. “Well? Do I pass for a snooty noble?”

I laugh, nodding appreciatively at his look. “I don’t think snooty is in your genes, but yes, you look great. Threep, did you help him with this?”

The nesper, smug as ever, flaps his wings in a haughty manner as he gives Mal a once-over. “Indeed. Perhaps you will learn to respect my wisdom, Valori.”

Mal scoffs, dropping Threep in Imtura’s arms. “That’ll be the day. Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m gonna go check on elf boy.”

Usually I would laugh at the joke, but instead my heart clenches, thinking of the current state Tyril must be in. “Has anyone been able to talk to him yet?” Mal, Nia, Imtura, and Threep sadly shake their heads, and I sigh in disappointment. On our party’s trek back from the catacombs, I had tried to come up with something to say, but what could possibly have been said to erase the agony he was feeling? I opted for silence instead, staying by his side the whole time. He had brushed his fingers against mine before he headed to his quarters to prepare for the masquerade, and I have not seen or heard from him since.

Mal gives me a dry smile, trying to cheer me up. “I’ll just tease him about whatever the hell he’s wearing. His pompous, stick-in-the-mud attitude that we all know, and love will come back, trust me.” He snatches an apple from the bowl on the vanity before leaving the room. I turn away from Threep’s praise of Imtura’s dress and her mumbled retorts to join Nia and Adrina at the vanity as the Lady of House Starfury recounts stories from previous masquerades. “Last year, the gorgeous Lord of House Moonfall asked me to dance. Three times.”

Nia gasps, delighted. “Really? What was he like?”

Adrina chuckles, smiling at the faraway memory. “Oh, we hardly talked. I was so nervous to be in his presence that I couldn’t seem to get two words out. And he was such an excellent dancer, I did not want to say anything that would ruin the moment. I would have danced with him all night if I could, but Tyril scolded me, telling me it was ‘improper’ to not switch partners after an extended period of time.”

“Well, hopefully he’ll be singing a different tune after tonight,” I say, smirking. “I don’t intend to let go of him.”

Adrina tips her head back, cackling. “Oh, that will be a sight to see. Tyril is horribly proper when it comes to public appearances, but if anyone can help him loosen up, it’s you Zamira.” She places the final pin in Nia’s fiery braid, then offers her a hand to help her rise from the chair. Nia squeals at the sight of herself, twirling and letting the voluminous skirt fly around her. “I look like a princessss!!” She exclaims, dancing a little jig that has Adrina and me laughing.

“You look stunning, Nia.” The dress features various shades of blue, from sheer mint long sleeves to a cerulean corset, and indigo and navy skirts that give a starry twinkle when she moves. Embroidered flowers and vines grow along the dress, and her blue and gold mask compliments her lovely golden-brown skin. “Lords won’t be able to take their eyes off of you!”

She blushes delicately, giving me a bashful smile. “I do not know about that, but I’m flattered all the same.” Her meek mood dissipates as she shoots me a mischievous grin that is surprisingly more Mal Valori than Nia Ellarious. Perhaps he is finally corrupting her, I muse before Nia interrupts my thoughts. “Besides, you and I both know there is one lord who will be positively indisposed tonight when he sees a certain lady.”

Now I’m the one who is blushing, but I refuse to let a bloody priestess know she got the better of me. I feel my face trying to suppress the pleased beam that threatens to take over, but it’s no use as I reply, “Hmm. I don’t know who you’re referring to, but I’ll take the compliment nonetheless.”

“No one will be ogling you tonight if you go in that horrid potato sack of a dress,” Threep says matter-of-factly, sniffing the intimidating golden horns from the shoulders of Imtura’s dress. “Just out of curiosity, are these tipped with poison? It would make for an excellent weapon against Kaya tonight.”

Imtura gapes, outraged. “That was an option? Why didn’t anyone tell me?!”

“Can we come back to the ‘potato sack’ comment?” I snap, glaring at Threep. “Tell me, Oh Wise One, whatever shall I wear to satisfy you?”

Completely oblivious to the sarcasm, he straightens his posture in Imtura’s arms, studies me with that wide and unblinking stare of his, and definitively replies, “Butterflies.”

Okay, I was not expecting that. “Um, is that supposed to be a color?” I ask lamely.

“No, you simpleton. Butterflies signify transformation, renewal, light. For you, Zamira, I find it a very fitting concept.” Adrina immediately leaves the room, shooting me an excited smile over her shoulder while doing so.

“It’s true!” Nia chimes in encouragingly, taking my rough hands into her soft ones. “You’ve come such a long way from the girl I met in Riverbend who just wanted to escape and go on an adventure.”

I blush at her words and give her a playful push. “You’ve come a long way too, Priestess. I wouldn’t even know how to use my Light if it weren’t for you. Scholar Vash would be proud.” Her eyes brim with tears at my words, and I give her a hug, brief but strong. A light breeze brushes my skin, and I turn to see Adrina proudly holding a dress to me, and my heart stops at the sight. “Oh, Adrina…you shouldn’t have.”

She shakes her head, pushing the dress towards me. “Nonsense. You have done so much for my brother in these past few months, and I cannot properly express my gratitude for it, but this will have to do for now.”

If not for the excitement already bubbling inside of me, the hopeful spark in her eyes would have done me in. I gently take the dress from her hands, nodding in thanks, and duck behind the changing screen. The dress is easy to put on, and I am pleasantly surprised by how light and airy it feels against my skin. I step out shyly from behind the screen, and Nia, Adrina, Imtura, even Threep gasp at the sight of me.

The dress is composed of a faint sky-blue tulle fabric, the color strongest at the bodice and slowly fading to a white with subtle traces of lavender and pink when the light catches it so. It is sleeveless, but on each shoulder a flower in the very same shade as the lavender accents pin tulle identical to the color of the dress so that it flows behind me like a cape. True to Threep’s word, lavender and cerulean butterflies grace the waistline and front of the dress. I feel ethereal in this dress with the colors of a dawn sky, a delightful contrast to my dark skin, and I grin at Adrina, hoping it is enough to convey how much I love it. It works, for she smiles back and makes quick work of my white hair to pin it into a regal low bun, and adds the finishing touch to the ensemble: a lace silver mask inset with crystals that spans across my face and ends just at my nose.

Imtura breaks the silence first, lips curling in mischief. “I’m no fashion expert, but ladies…I’d say we’re ready to piss off some pretentious elves!” She lets out a cheer, passing Threep to Adrina before charging from the room, not even checking to see if Nia and I follow before she leaps onto the crumbling banister and speeds downward to the once grand foyer. I give Nia a shrug before linking my arm with hers, ad we say a quick farewell to Adrina and Threep before descending the staircase to join Imtura and, not originally noticing him from his veiled position in the shadows until we hear the unmistakable scolding voice belonging to no other, Tyril.

“While I am aware of your opinion towards my kind, I implore you to behave in a manner tonight that will not add to their suspicion of us. We will need as few eyes on us as possible if we are going to succeed in obtaining the Scepter.”

“You mean fewer eyes than the ones openly judging you for showing your face around here and bringing the riff raff into Undermount’s pearly gates? Gee, Tyril, you always ask so little of us, somewhat of a challenge would be appreciated,” Imtura snaps, words dripping in sarcasm from her fangs.

Tyril sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose before continuing, “Please. Just try. After tonight, you can drop kick as many of my people as you would like, but tonight, do try to be civil.”

“I think you mean our people,” I say teasingly, trying to lighten the mood once Nia and I have reached the bottom step. Tyril, completely unaware of our descent during his tense exchange with Imtura, snaps to attention and turns to greet us, lips pressed in a tense line before they part in a mesmerized “Oh” at the sight of me. Normally I would glow with pride under his stare, but I’m too busy trying to keep my own mouth from dropping in kind as I take in his appearance.

The outfit bears similarities in style to his everyday armor on our journey, but the colors are pure Starfury. He poses a striking figure in the royal blue and silver armor that extends from his chest to his abdomen, a magnificent steel belt with a royal blue gemstone in the center to accent it all. His shoulders and forearms are adorned in imposing armor the color of an angry sea, and a stormy grey cape clasped by a brooch across his chest. His mask is pure silver encrusted with sapphires and crystals, only accentuating his piercing blue eyes even more. Lord Starfury indeed. It wasn’t hard to imagine him hosting parties and being a prominent political figure in the Undermount hierarchy, not in this outfit where he was the embodiment of a lightning storm.

In a surprise reversal of roles, I am the one at a loss for words, and he is reveling in the idea. My blood rushes through my body as he bows before me, taking my hand and kissing it with such reverence and admiration before meeting my eyes and pulling his lips away, murmuring “My lady” against my skin in a manner that has me blushing furiously. I move to stand beside him, intertwining my fingers with his, grateful for his presence and leadership, despite everything he must be feeling after the catacombs. I squeeze his hand, hoping to express that and more to him, and when he squeezes back, I know he understands.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Mal calls as he saunters down the staircase, smirking at the sight of us all waiting for him.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for the dramatic entrance type,” Imtura crows, sticking a foot out in an attempt to trip him as he steps down from the last one, which he deftly hops over.

“What can I say? I’m an insufferable ass.” He offers his left arm for Nia, and his right one for Imtura. “Hope you ladies can tolerate me as escort for tonight.”

Nia curls her fingers around his arm, giggling. “Of course, Mal the Magnificent.”

The rogue turns to me and Tyril with a triumphant glint in his eyes. “See? It was only a matter of time before it caught on!”

In typical Tyril fashion, my elven escort gives an annoyed humph. “I’d sooner be corrupted by the Shadow Court than call you that.”

“Ah. I see even a party can’t loosen up Tyril the Tyrant.”

Even hidden by the mask, I can see Tyril’s sculpted eyebrows rising in horror as he splutters, “Wha—How dare yo—”

Nia, ever the peacekeeper, gracefully interjects “Oh, look, there’s the carriage!” And with that, our party of five sets off into the night, ready to crash a ball.

#blades of light and shadow #blades of light and shadow fanfic #tyril starfury #tyril x mc #mal volari #nia ellarious #imtura tal kaelen #choices fanfic #playchoices

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masked-alien-lesbian · 4 months ago

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Someone needs to go to jail for this lol 😭

#Just because you painted a random red head #Green and stuck horns on her #Don't make her Imtura pb #I think they used her body double #Because that ain't my wife #choices #pixelberry #playchoices #blades of light and shadow #Blades 3 #imtura tal kaelen #Imtura

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rjschoicesstuff · 2 months ago

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ok i am curious about rex and i think you might've mentioned it before: how has her gender developed throughout their story, especially in meeting imtura and other orcs, etc? how was their gender perceived with humans vs later on and how did it affect her :3

OOO fun question, thank u!! I ended up rambling really bad but feel kinda bad answering an ask with a wall of text, so I'll give the tl;dr and put the rest under the cut hhaha

I'm not gonna interchange pronouns for the whole thing like I usually do for Rex LOL cause it's easier 4 me and also she wouldnt gaf

Rex was raised as a boy cause her adoptive parents couldn't tell if she was a boy or a girl when she was found. (I hc that all orcs have the same primary sex characteristics) Rex is made aware of this as a child but doesn't really have her 'oh wait im not just a guy im also a girl' moment when she starts being mistaken for a girl sometimes in her mid teens, after she started growing out her hair and wearing make-up and stuff because she liked it on her girlfriends.

Rex only really told those she's close to, but it's no secret either, she's just very indifferent about what pronouns and stuff people use for her so if people catch on that's nice, but if they don't it's whatever.

The only thing Rex is really 'strict' about is that she's Kade's brother and not his sister.

In Riverbend she never really changed her presentation, a mix of being hesitant to do this and just not really feeling the need to.

I'm still figuring out what I want my take on orcs to be like + feel like I need to replay the books first because I want to keep canon stuff in mind too, but don't think Rex is necessarily gonna change her perception on her gender identity once she interacts more with other orcs. But idk for sure yet! Because she does want to learn all about the culture and this will impact her and in the end gender is cultural too. (but also it's a thing that Rex does feel like an outcast among the orcs and doesn't fully fit into their culture + just generally lots of complicated feelings)

Things that do kinda apply tho: Imtura and Tyril are her first romantic relationships she had since figuring out her identity and there's something affirming about the way her relationships with them are vs the relationships she had with humans in Riverbend.

And also through Imtura + in shops on Flotilla she gets the chance to try on more feminine clothes that fit her frame and that way she gets to figure out her style more and does start branching out with clothes.

Because of the whole 'male orcs can get pregnant too'-thing I imagine the orcs all have like basically the same genitals and the difference between male and female orcs are secondary sex characteristics + some subtle differences that are present from birth (like horn color or something?). And humans aren’t widely educated on how to determine the sex of young orcs. (And even get it wrong often for adult orcs if they don’t present in a way that makes it easy to tell for humans)

When Rex and Kade were found, there were no other orcs that lived in Riverbend and so Rex’ parents just guessed she was a boy and decided to raise her like that. I imagine humans also just kinda view orcs as inherently more masculine so I think the thought process was also sorta like a boy would fit better or make her feel a little less like an outcast in the future? It was always sorta approached as like ‘Rex might feel differently in the future though’, and was sat down at around age 10 by her adoptive mom and was basically told ‘This is what we did when we found you but you get to decide what you are + the way your body changes the coming years might not match what you expect based off other boys’ and Rex was like ‘Ok.. I'm gonna throw big rocks into the lake now.’ (This feels so funny because it feels v like modern accepting mom but I just didn’t really wanna go with anything like she was also forced into being a manly man or whatever and it doesn’t feel v out of place because people seem chill with queer relationships in universe too)

As a child Rex was ‘a typical boy’ in a lot of ways, but she also really enjoyed playing with dolls and taking up feminine roles when playing pretend with other kids and stuff like that.

I think due to being an orc she was at times perceived as more masculine than she really is? Like orcs just possessing a lot of qualities that are considered masculine by humans. (Like I always imagine a lot of humans would consider Imtura masculine while other orcs think she's pretty feminine) Rex never cared about being perceived as a man, like she’s just indifferent about it. Never like let anything hold her back because it would make her seem effeminate or something like that. She also always felt more similar to tomboys than to boys.

When Rex went thru puberty and started getting a lot bigger she got real popular with The Girls and some boys in the village (attention she enjoyed lol). I think partly inspired by her girlfriends she also started experimenting more with her appearance, growing her hair out, wearing make-up and wearing jewelry whenever she wasn’t working.

I think especially once she had long hair travelers passing through town would sometimes mistake her for a woman rather than a guy like everyone in town. Which she found she didn’t mind, she actually liked it. Felt important tho she doesn’t really understand why. Thinks it over for a while and basically decides to tell those closest to her that she figured out that she enjoys being referred to as a woman but also that she’s pretty indifferent about it all so like ‘do with that info what you want’.

She insists that she’s still Kade’s brother tho, like she doesn’t want that to change. Kade often introduces her to new people like ‘This is my brother, her name is Rex.’ Rex doesn’t like turning it into a big deal or having a whole convo about gender, she’s always like 'dw about it, just be respectful'. She didn’t really start dressing differently after ‘coming out’. Genuinely doesn’t care about how people gender her or whatever, all that was important to her was that those closest to her knew.

So that’s where she’s at when the story starts, like I’m not sure if it really ended up changing much after. I think Imtura (and Tyril) influenced it more in a way of like, Rex experiencing her first relationships after figuring herself out more + having relationships where she wasn’t expected to be ‘the man’ or whatever. And I think there was something affirming about that I guess? But also that feels like kinda one of those things where gender and being an orc intersect or sth?

I still haven’t really made up my mind about the whole orcs + gender stuff, especially because I’m planning to replay the series soon and will catch up with the lore then lol. I wish I had more to say haha 😭.

I was gonna start rambling about my ideas n shit so far but then I started rly derailing because it’s not really about Rex anymore, so I’ll leave it for another post, perhaps once I’ve replayed the books. Like when I try rn I find myself going back n forth a lot like ‘oh but that makes no sense, why would they do this or that? why would they be like that though..’

I honestly don’t think it’ll change anything for Rex though, like she’s already done all the self discovery when it comes to gender when she lived in Riverbend (tho I definitely think it would've been interesting if it hadn't been that way LOL but yeah). And it’s more gonna be like general culture stuff that’s gonna have her feel all sorts of ways (identity crisis, disappointment that she still feels like an outcast, shame that she’s an orc but feels like she doesn’t know how to be an orc, the whole ‘human in an orc body’-thing but also healing + connecting to people she’s biologically related to who can tell her about her mom)

I think through Imtura letting her try on clothes + in shops on Flotilla Rex gets to try on more feminine clothes that fit her frame for the first time ever and that’s how she starts figuring out/expanding her style more. Like I always imagined her mom offering to make her a dress, but Rex declining because she’s not sure if she’ll like it and then all that time and fabric would’ve been wasted. I think Rex especially loves dresses and stuff for like special occasions, like the circumstances aside, she’s excited to dress up for that ball in undermount and there’s definitely something gender affirming about it.

#mc: rex #asks answered

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retvenkos · 4 years ago

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edges // imtura tal kaelen

Choices: Blades of Light and Shadow - An Imtura Tal Kaelen Story

those edges are sharp as they move to cut deep blood on your hands, body in a heap.

my mother on a throne, her words like tiny knives, my father on the sea - his life lost in archives.

i bleed to death on edges, i forge myself anew, i sail beyond what’s past me, i work and i make do,

Flotilla was small, when compared to the rest of the world. She knew it from a young age.

There were land masses that connected entirely different worlds, one language blending into the next, one group of people coexisting with another. The edges were blurred, on land. Kingdoms were fleeting. Everything was larger on land.

There were land masses, and then there were islands.

She lived on an island.

Things were smaller in her world, more black and white. There were sharp contrasts and jagged ends where power was long lasting, existing under the guise of being eternal. (“Very little is truly eternal, Immy.” “Are we?”)

There was very little comfort in her claustrophobic home. Her mother would smother with her love and she imposed her virtues like a slow tightening noose; if you stayed too long, it would be the last place you stayed.

Imtura dreamed of the sea. The freedom of being able to go where you please, the vastly different lands you could visit and even call home, the big expanse of water, as far as you could see, all yours for the taking. Her father was there, on the open sea. That’s where her mother had left him, and that’s where he dared to stay.

She dreamed of the sea, and perhaps of the family she could find, there.

Her mother was as strong as she was resolute. Her eyes were hard because they had to be, years of fighting against other clans, working to unify them all under one crown. She wore that crown, now, behind her horns, the turquoise and jade set behind gold and tusk. It caught light from the fire and gleamed with a powerful intensity. It was meant to signify the power behind her fine dresses and thick furs, a crown that detailed adventures she had never seen and places she had never experienced.

“This crown will never be yours, Immy. Not the way you’re going.” Her voice was venom - hitting the bloodstream and coursing through the body fast enough to paralyze. “I can see your future.” Her eyes narrowed, then (In disgust. In loathing.), her head held high.

It was in the early days that the seeds of discontent were sewn. On the edges of a precipice with a steep fall. On the border of what had happened, and what was still to come.

What could her mother see? The sun on her back? Her red hair thick with ocean spray? Her father, on the sea, free from the strict rules of the crown, far from the island and her mother? Was she beside him, in this supposed future? Was it them, father and daughter, at the end of the world that scared the great Ventra Tal Kaelen?

Or was it something else, something more potent? (Death, dishonor, destruction.)

She had felt them all, on this island, in this home.

Which had the strength to consume her?

She left her mother to crowns, dresses, and furs. She abandoned her mother to rules, power, and obligation. She left her mother behind closed doors, waiting for the wood to rot, splinter, and fall.

Day after day. Land after land. Sea after sea. Wave after wave. Star after star.

She charted the seas with the aid of the sky one, twice, three times over; searching… always searching. He had said he would be on the sea. That’s the only memory she had of him; red hair, deep eyes, and talk of his mistress - the sea. Her mother had avoided the water her whole life because of him. She bound the Clans together with the strength of a thousand orcs to discard the ocean’s necessity. She said her one failure was Imtura’s love for the water and it’s detrimental temptations.

How else did she fail you, Mighty Queen? How else did she disappoint you, Mother of a Pirate?

Imtura found refuge in her drink and fulfilment in her treasures. Turquoise stones, jade rings, golden gauntlet, necklaces of tusk, shirts of fine silk, and vests of fur. They filled her quarters to the point of claustrophobia, they hung around her neck like a slow tightening noose.

But the drinks slipped it loose, the laughter lightened the load.

“We pirates all lose something.” Her first mate was philosophical after a night of cards and rum. His head lolled forward and for a moment his words were a prayer. Spirits dipped below the strings of music and there were hums of agreement. “There’s always a price for finding treasure.”

What had she sacrificed from her early days to now? How much of that still plagued her now, turning a medallion around her neck to an albatros, ready to drag you beneath the waves.

It was a watery grave for those who sailed the seas.

It was a tumultuous life for those who searched for men who traversed on the edge of the world.

Whispers came on the wind, salty sweet and cold as ice.

Shivers ran through her like a ghost walking through you; all at once and suddenly over, leaving an unsteady feeling in the pit of your stomach. The words wrapped around her like snakes going up her arms and around her legs, leaving a trail that made her stand on edge.

Imtura turned, and it seemed to be around her entire crew. (They all had demons… it’s why they were here. To run, perhaps hide. But the whispers, the long shadows, there was no escaping them. Not here, on the sea.)

She turned her gaze to stone and knotted the rope in her hand tighter, the movement jerking the shadowy tendrils away, off of the host they intended to corrupt. She yelled to her crew, giving them jobs, pulling them out of their stupor.

Whispers can’t corrupt you if they don’t have the time or strength.

They had to get off the sea. It was the only way.

“You can’t escape… I can see your future…” They took on the words of her mother, for a moment. But it was too smooth, too languorous to be her mother. Ventra had sharp edges, so did her daughter.

It wasn’t her mother. (Not this time.)

Fate came to her at the end of the sharp tip of her axe, their argument compelling, stronger than she could ever know. (The implications of what was to come put her on edge, familiar in its bite.)

Looking into the eyes of a new life, she followed.

#choices stories you play #blades of light and shadow #blades #bolas #imtura tal kaelen #imtura #imagine #one shot #fic #angst #imturaoneshot

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