#Wiztober2019

[pyromancyy]

an unofficial wiztober prompt list!!! honestly this isnt rly limited to wiz, so go wild if u wanna use it for pirate or anything else! thank u @telekinetic-issue for the prompts :)

try using the hashtag #wiztober2019 to keep it all together!

[dakotafairystone]

Wiztober day 2: Potions

Lenora is brewing something up!

[save-the-spiral]

InkWizTober Day Twelve: Dragon + Forgotten

Welcome to day twelve of inktober!! I was excited to continue one of my older headcanons about dragons! (almost two years old! here it is!) Warnings for death mention, injury/scar mention, and dog mention. 

(link to prompt lists) (link to inktober tag)

One dragon per school is right. But no one ever said there were just seven schools worth of dragons.

People only want to think that. Even the concept of creatures and magic they can’t easily control or counter is terrifying. No one will hear these rumors in Ravenwood.

There are still beings out there, both wizard and dragon, one in the same. There just happen to be four more than most think.

Those of sun, burning hotter than a fire dragon ever could, powers bigger and all consuming. They are the largest possible dragon, twice the size of the dragon-wizards of the typical seven schools. Glowing, vibrant scales in yellows and oranges, the occasional red decorate their sky blue body in wide spiraling flares. Their claws are bright, perfect gold, and the malleability of them is their sole weakness. Their face is squashed, snout short like a malformed dog, a pug. They have large fans of skin that spread when threatened, like the myth spell, Basilisk. They breathe solar flares, they could level entire worlds with it, if it weren’t so difficult with their deformed face. They nest on barren, long forgotten worlds, collecting enchanted items and too many shiny treasure cards. They’re mentored in leadership, in protecting others and learning how to fly beyond worlds, in the vast emptiness of space. In human form, they have gold nails and collect many friends in their orbit.

Star dragons are actually the smallest of any of the normal dragon-wizards, slight and mysterious. They are shiny and luminous, a bright, perfect gem, iridescent eyes disorienting as they glitter in any light. The only dull part of them is the velvety black outsides of their spiky jagged wings, in order to hide them when necessary. Their fire is blinding, colorful, and runs hot. They are quick and distant, never connecting with anyone truly before they’re gone. Hoards are full of glittery things, anything with rainbows or whites so bright it sears the human eye. They have to be mentored in stealth, because their mentor knows that a star dragon could be discovered if they’re challenged on how bright they shine. When in human form, their hair seems to have some strands of bright quicksilver hidden in it, and they can fall into their dragon form easier than any other wizard when distressed.

Dragons of the moon are broad, smaller than sun dragons but larger than the others. They breathe grey dust, and it makes beings sleepy and weightless, floating and easy prey. Hoards are full of rocks, making their cave homes easier to hide, even if they enjoy the occasional flashy geode. They seem plain for a dragon, light grey scales covering their wide frame, with darker grey patches over any injuries, and the majority of their underbelly, the inside of their wings. In human form their scars and scabs can take on an inhuman grey tinge as well. Their claws are huge crescents and pure white, almost unwieldy, and most mentors of lunar dragons have to teach them how to manage those deadly claws. The most striking thing about moon dragons are the eyes. Always following the phase of the moon from Earth’s perspective in time, always moving, their pupil-less eyes range from round voids of the new moon, or brilliant full moons. There’s nothing stranger than super moons, or blood moons, or eclipses.

Dragon-wizard beings of shadow are the smallest, the weakest of all the dragons. Their dragon form is barely the size of an average horse, almost pathetic in comparison to others. Scars litter their dragon form even if their human form has never been injured. Scattered burns, digits frostbitten, necrosis, electric burns, poisoned slashes and bites, large swathes of scales burned even worse than the others, bright scars almost mockingly colorful, and residue of sand and thick dust in between their wing scales. The shadow dragon cannot fly. It can barely fight. They have long forgotten how to breathe dangerously. Their hoards are quiet, small things, a trinket or two they cannot be parted with. All they can do is wait and hide in the darkness, in their shadows, trying to understand their magic and their dragon form. They never last long, so there’s no need for a mentor. They get what’s coming to them, and they get it young and brutal.

If you thought yourself brave enough to look for the other seven dragons, never even think of the astral dragons. Don’t even whisper drunkenly about them in an inn, don’t tell the story to your children. Powerful beings have a way of knowing.

As for the shadow dragon, well, it’s a wretched thing. If you ever learn about shadow magic, ever learn about a legend within and legend like a shadow dragon-wizard, don’t bother. 

It's probably dead anyway.

[ratgxtz]

Wiztober day 4- Ancient

his name is Harvey :)

I'm skipping day 4

[brynn-rose-w101]

So I started these based off of the Official Inktober prompts, but I just discovered that Wizzy Inktober prompts are a thing!

Anyways, hopefully you guys enjoy my storm wiz Brynn Rose and my other death OC Victoria Deathblossom!

[pyromancyy]

wiztober day 6 - trusty steed

i didnt do ellies muscles justice and i skipped day five but she. rides a skyracer pegasus

[pyromancyy]

1 - students!

gonna try to tackle wiztober, have galen and lenora :D

[save-the-spiral]

InkWizTober Day Nineteen: Sling + Home

Welcome to day nineteen of Inktober! Ended up writing this. Realizing that ‘sling’ doesn’t apply as much as I’d like it to, but they’re injured so, it counts. Also just assume they were questing in Wizard City because I was halfway through when I realized it depends on what world they’re questing in. Warnings for self doubt and death mention.

(link to prompt lists) (link to inktober tag)

To return to Wizard City, defeated, is different for every school of wizard.

The storm wizard appears in a purple cloud of magic that sparks harmlessly. They’re disappointed- only slightly in themself, mostly in their allies, the people who were supposed to heal and protect them. With a put upon, annoyed sigh they plopped down onto the sidewalk of the Commons, ready and waiting to say ‘I told you so’ to their allies when they inevitably appear.

The ice wizard appears in a cold burst of magic. They’re prideful, to be defeated is to take the hits their allies couldn’t afford. They hold their head high, shoulders back as they walk through the Commons, trying to ignore the flutter of fear that always makes their heart race. With a clenched fist and a blank face, they go to the Fairgrounds to get more potions, needing to return on their quest as soon as possible.

The fire wizard appears in a whirl of flame. They clench their fists and jaw, body almost shaking in fury. Regret and shame cause them to hang their head, mind recounting every mistake they inevitably made. They’re upset, knowing they’re too impulsive to be a hero, to be a leader. They wait in a shadowy corner of the Commons, trying to calm themself for when their friends come back to get them. As if their friends ever needed them.

The death wizard appears with a subtle dark mist clinging to their limbs, something they have to shake off so it doesn’t trail magical residue all around the Commons. They sigh, frustrated. Cold dread fills their system as their magic reminds them of their mistake, of how not every fight will end with harmless defeat. First their magic reprimands them, and then their allies will no doubt scold them for their lack of self preservation. Really, it got repetitive after the first few times.

The myth wizard appears with blue fog, triangles of gold magic swirling off of them until they move. Regret makes them frown, knowing the minion they had summoned to help their allies wouldn’t be enough in their absence. They’d have to do better next time, be stronger. They walk towards the Fairgrounds, wanting to get more potions in anticipation of solo adventures so they could be better next time.

The life wizard appears in a swarm of green magic and leaves. They stumble on the cobblestones, almost collapsing, distraught. They failed. And now they couldn’t heal their friends, couldn’t keep them safe and alive. In the end, wasn’t that all they were good for? Didn’t they spend so much of the battle focusing on others that they hadn’t paid attention to their own health until they verged on defeat? If they couldn’t even keep themself alive, how could they be trusted with their friends’ lives? They lean heavily against the side of a building, staring at the spot where their friends would return, mind already anticipating the argument to come.

The balance wizard appears with a thin shield of maroon magic that fades after a moment. They scowl at their hands, before trying to come to peace with what happened. Strategies had failed, back up plans had as well. They’d just have to do better next time. The sorcerer has to acknowledge that the past cannot be changed, that being upset will not put them back into battle. It’s hard though, and they want to sit and pout when they don’t have the time to. Well, they have all the time in the world to sit, seeing as they can’t go back into battle right away. Instead of pouting, they sit and try to meditate instead of worry. They don’t do the best job of it, but trying is what counts.

[dakotafairystone]

Wiztober day 3: Packing the essentials 

Dakota and Noah are setting out on a journey together, and Dakota knows what to pack.

[pyromancyy]

wiztober day 2 - potions!

this was a little lackluster bc the prompt was weird but I LIKE RHE ANATOMY >:) take caleb

[ratgxtz]

Wiztober day 3- Packing the Essentials

so srry its all sketches im in a rush!

[save-the-spiral]

InkWizTober Day One: Ring + Students

Welcome to day one of inktober! I’m using the wiztober prompt AND the inktober prompt, hence my two prompts. Note that I have no idea how people make jewelry besides a few DIY youtube videos I watched at least a year ago and also one cool scene in a hunger games fanfic. 

(link to prompt lists) (link to inktober tag)

The Ravenwood class rings were a more recent tradition in the grand scheme of the school’s existence, but no less important. The idea was brought on by a sentimentalism that many in Wizard City were plagued with in the aftermath of Malistaire’s initial attack. Disillusioned and hurting, they clung to their shining pasts, the good old days where they were school children and not questing wizards.

Magical rings were everywhere in the Spiral, a wizard could probably find one from defeating the nearest couple of monsters. So, a wizard from Earth with a stubborn streak and a family full of jewelry makers insisted on making the class rings by hand. 

After the wizard graduates, moving onto the rest of their life, they should remember that magic doesn’t solve everything. Sometimes it can cause more problems than it solves, the ring maker snarled, having lost classmates because of Malistaire’s actions.

So the hands that craft every class ring for Ravenwood Academy for Magical Arts were non-magical for a childhood full of normalcy. So the tools that bend the hot silver and fasten the school gemstones depending on which wizard the ring goes to are plain and unenchanted. So the molten silver is poured into a mold of metal from Earth in order to create the intricate lacing of silver over the gem, outlining a likeness of Bartleby.

It’s normal, non-magical hands of the ring maker’s siblings that help them create the rings, etching the years into the insides and their family name.

The last lesson the new graduates of Ravenwood learn is that there is more to life than magic. The Spiral is a vast and complicated thing, and the mundane worlds are worth saving as much as the magical ones were.

[pyromancyy]

wiztober day 3 - packing the essentials!

gonna be playing some catch up w this- but heres corry shortly after his parents r killed n hes forced to flee marleybone

[save-the-spiral]

InkWizTober Day Twenty-Nine: Injured + Endgame

Welcome to day twenty-nine of inktober, and holy FUCK its. A good one. I spent hours on this, writing the end to my Pirate!Queen concept. It’s so good, y’all, read all four parts in order please. Warnings for graphic depictions of violence, narrator having a real bad existential crisis, thoughts about the afterlife, self doubt, death, body horror kinda.

(link to prompt lists) (link to inktober tag)

Captain Avery’s plan to destroy the Armada was, in a word, infuriating. 

The old captain was content to send the young pirate out on his orders- without backup! Just a crew led by a captain who couldn’t be older than seventeen. Any leads or intel came from ‘allies’ who were simply spineless pirates who owed Captain Avery favors. 

Even Queen, who was a member of Kane’s court in the past, who was created to never had an independent thought in her life, knew this was all wrong. She took the lead, fully accepting the pseudonym of ‘Reyna Ferro’, budding pirate captain, with her mysterious and loyal crew of the Pyrite Swan. 

(She ignored the fluttering, ecstatic part of her that reveled in having a ‘normal’ name. How she never wanted to go back to being ‘Queen’. Never wanted to use the name Kane gave her ever again.)

Captain Reyna Ferro seemed to be the only fully competent pirate out of the triad of captains, once she started giving orders. She organized sieges on docked fleets of resting Armada soldiers, got them the useful intel and blueprints (mostly from her own perfect memory), and she made sure that Captain Avery didn’t take it too far.

(A giant, mocking puppet show to draw the Armada soldiers to battle them in Skull Island? Really?)

...Reyna had only recently realized that Avery was likely presenting these plans just to hear how incredulous her tone could get in response. Organic, human pirates could be so difficult to figure out. 

Even now, planning what would likely be their last official mission of this endeavor, Reyna was taking charge. Captain Avery hadn’t even bothered to show up.

“All of the Armada have fallen back, following ingrained protocols to hide in a last resort fortress and begin creating more clockworks to bolster their numbers and buy time. While we were waiting and recovering from the last battle in Monquista, where we took out almost all of their ships and unfortunately lost the young pirate’s ship as well- I got intel from a spy.” 

Reyna took a breath, staring down at the vast array of maps and internally hoping they didn’t question who was spying. She wouldn’t want to reveal her connections on the inside. When this quest started they agreed that Reyna would get any captured soldiers, and she had been working with those very soldiers, turning them slowly towards her side. She let them secretly join her crew, or go back to the Armada as a spy, or gave them a secret hideout to live in peace.

In a way, Reyna was glad she was so adept at lying at this point. Hiding the crew’s identities- and her own- was a matter of life or death. They’d lost far too much to the Armada at this point for the pirates they allied with to not slaughter them outright at the reveal of their clockwork identities. 

Reyna grabbed a thin knife with her gloved hand, casually walking across Captain Avery’s office, trying not to think about how familiar the room had become to her. She let the knife point trail across the large map of Cool Ranch and its skyway. 

“Cool Ranch? Isn’t that a bit out of their usual locations for forts?” Sterling, Reyna’s first mate, asked.

“Yeah but think about it.” Zircon replied, sitting casually on Avery’s ornate desk, slightly damaged mace in hand. “Big, open country. Lots of mines to hide in, could go out where no one would hear you. Find a ghost town to reinforce or whatever.”

Bonnie Anne, one of the young pirate’s crewmates, nodded. Her large, canon-like weapon was leaning casually against Avery’s desk, and she was leaning into Zircon’s side. “Lots of shadowy characters in Cool Ranch. They could easily spread out too- dark corners in saloons, becoming farm hands or apprentices- they wouldn’t have to show their face, just work and plan their next moves.”

Reyna tuned out the conversation between crews, tracing coordinates until she found the building marked by a small square, the one she was looking for. She stabbed the knife into the spot, the amber handle and silver blade glinting in the sunlight of a nearby window.

She turned around, grabbing a piece of charcoal, and began writing small neat notes on the map. “It’s actually an abandoned railway station, right by an abandoned mine. They’re grouped together, reinforcing the area like Zircon said.” 

If Reyna could grin, she would. The sight of Zircon and Bonnie Anne fist-bumping was something she wanted to imprint in her brain forever. Zircon had become much more outgoing and trusting since this all started, becoming fast friends with the fox privateer. 

Sterling sighed, toying with an antique telescope. “They’re likely re-purposing the few machines from the mine, and they can transport any materials they need far too easily for my liking.”

“Exactly.” The young pirate murmured, then went back to silently arguing with Egg Shen about something small- probably eating just oatmeal for breakfast, with no fruit, opposing Egg Shen’s exacting health standards.

Reyna pondered the railroad line that went through the huge island of Cool Ranch, all huge plateaus and gorgeous vistas. “They might have dynamite too. Let’s fight fire with fire here, Bonnie. Get some dynamite of your own by the end of the day, please.”

“End of the day?” Sterling asked, a bit alarmed.

“Yes.” Reyna said sternly, turning to face the room, all eyes on her. The dozen or so of the young pirate’s crew (the rest in Skull Island’s infirmary), and her own crewmates in the brash and protective Zircon, the curious and anchoring Sterling, the quiet and observant Malachite, who even now is sitting perched on a tall bookshelf, watching.

“Timing is essential here. We need to get in on their next shipment, at dusk tomorrow. We hide in a car, ambush the clockworks collecting the cargo, and move on from there. Spread out, follow the marks I’ve made on these blueprints of the area. Destroy weapons and clockworks being made, capture the rest. My crew will deal with them.” Reyna stopped, weighing down the blueprints and making a few amendments to the lines on it.

Egg Shen nodded at this, getting up and examining the papers. “We trust your planning, Captain Ferro. You haven’t steered us wrong yet.” 

The nods that followed from the young pirate and his crew were disarming. 

Reyna stepped back, standing awkwardly due to her prosthetic leg. “But- most of your crew are in the infirmary- you lost your ship because of my plans. I understand if you want to change this, you do not have to-”

“Relax, Reyna.” Bonnie Anne offered, gesturing around at the others in the room. “We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t already trust you with our life. If we had made the plans- well, we would have had much more trouble without you and your amazing crew.”

If Reyna could blush, she would be bright red right now. 

“Yeah Captain!” Zircon said, tilting her head in a way that conveyed childishness. “Our crew is pretty amazing, but it’s nothing without you guiding us.”

Sterling and Malachite were nodding, and Reyna was slightly worried for her internal processing, with how long it was taking to understand and absorb what they were saying. With stuttered thanks, she quickly turned everyone back to the plan, delegating roles for every pirate on the mission.

Bonnie Anne and Malachite, who would climb on top of the train cars when the ambush strikes, and gun down any backup from the Armada. 

Egg Shen and Sterling would work with the young pirate on finding the leader, and the workshop for clockwork creation.

The twins, Rhodium and Rhenium, alongside Nanu Nanu and Emmet of the young pirate’s crew, would be a distraction on the south side, near the large ravine. 

Everyone else was nodding, happy to follow Reyna’s orders. It made her feel nervous, knowing that failure or success rested on her plan, on her shoulders. Some part of her wanted to just stop, to sit down and tell someone else to take responsibility, to do the hard job. The restless part of her, the one that drove her to piracy in the first place, that filled her with wonder at beautiful nature scenery, and rage at how governments and outlaws alike take advantage of the poor. 

She would keep moving, keep planning, only to appease that dark pit of dissatisfaction with life. 

The waiting, right before a mission truly went underway, was what killed her inside. It took Zircon’s firm grip on her hand, Spectrolite’s silly puns, and Osmium’s toothless threats to every annoyance, to calm her down. Her crew, her strange crew of ex-battle angels, of ex-dolls of the Armada, all of them like family, they truly had a calming effect on her, made her remember her purpose. 

They took up half of the large storage train car. Rhodium and Rhenium were playing tic-tac-toe with chalk on the floor and far more threats than proper, Meteorite was checking her ammo compulsively, doing it again and again to ensure she would not forget, Stichtite was jokingly adding ridiculous ideas to the plan, Sterling nodding seriously as she listened, only to laugh when it got truly bizarre. 

There were a few more that joined her. Rehabilitated clockworks saved from their missions by being captured and handed over to Reyna and her crew, ones who wanted to repent, to atone for their cruel actions under another’s order. They remained nameless, still new to their sentience and trying to find themselves, these three clockworks. One was a battle angel, like the rest of the crew, one was a musketeer, and another was a buccaneer, halberd resting by his side always.

Reyna felt the train, racing across the Cool Ranch countryside, begin to slow. Everyone became alert, even the dozing young pirate.

Reyna was tempted to follow in Egg Shen’s footsteps and bother the young pirate into getting eight hours of sleep a night an eating their fruits and vegetables upon seeing the dark circles under their eyes. 

The train rumbled as it stopped, the only other sound being the breathing of the organic pirates, and the cicadas singing. The sun was setting, sky a dusky red, light falling. It was time.

As they heard the exacting footsteps of clockworks, people hid in storage containers, behind them. Bonnie Anne and Malachite climbed out on the opposite side from where the clockworks would be approaching, the two clambering up onto the roof for a better vantage point.

Rhodium and Rhenium were looking at each other, conversing in a strange twin speak that seemed to transfer even to clockworks, and they moved forward in sync as the door slowly opened. Nanu Nanu and Emmet followed behind the two, slightly reluctant, but willing nonetheless. Zircon, next to Reyna, shifted in excitement, and Reyna knocked their heads together lightly, a soft ‘I’m here’, practically a kiss on the cheek. A common clockwork display of affection the crew had developed.

Zircon looked at Reyna, and bumped her back, right before the fighting started.

It was loud- the twin clockworks were always loud, calling confusing orders, yelling nonsense, acting like it was a game. The rest of the pirates stampeded out of the train car, hopping onto the dusty ground of the plateau. The clockworks, a neat, matching group of five, were in pieces.

The visual, slowly cloaked by the night’s darkness, made Reyna wish she could vomit. It was disgusting, unnatural- to see bodies- ones so similar to her own, ones that bled oil, that were made of metals, had the potential to feel- to see them shattered, it hurt. To see pieces of a being that once had a consciousness, even if it was controlled by others, to know a personality was behind that, hidden deep, it made something in Reyna shatter a tiny bit every single time.

The only thing that gave her solace every time was knowing that those Armada clockworks were free now, free from the trappings of being a soldier, of only following orders, having no free will. At least, if there was a personality in there, it would not have to suffer, would not have to watch as their body was controlled by something they could not fight.

The group continued on nonetheless, twins taking point and dragging Nanu Nanu and Emmet along for the ride, playing with firecrackers and yelling to draw attention

Sterling chuckled under her breath, but split off from Reyna’s side, moving to join the young pirate and Egg Shen on their mission to find the workshop. From above they heard Bonnie Anne’s exclamations about the twins doing their thing, and most of the secret clockwork pirates were snickering, before returning to their jobs.

Personally, Reyna was glad to lose herself in the violence, the strategy of it. Her sword was sharp, mind sharper, and she ached to prove it to herself once again.

Maybe she was too eager, in the end.

Maybe that was her fatal flaw, some twisted kind of hubris, some need to prove her own humanity to herself. 

Some need to feel alive, and believe it.

Reyna was trapped in a tar pit of self pity, of doubt, of existential horror and comedy in the same suffocating breath. 

She was slumped in the train car, having retreated to their getaway vehicle once she realized the gravity of her wounds. One of the newly created clockworks had been a monstrosity to behold- some strange, hulking creature of screeching metal and regurgitated oil, a terrifying thing. Reyna was selfish, was just plain stupid, and didn’t run back to get other to help her and the young pirate, she just rushed in, sword at the ready, some strange synthetic adrenaline in her system. 

Reyna Ferro, Queen, just some upgraded battle angel, just some dysfunctional clockwork- she rushed in, like an idiot, like an impulsive human, side by side with the most impulsive human she had ever met, the young pirate captain. They had fought hard, fought well, almost downed the thing, but it was clever. Reyna had to shield the young pirate with her own body, the sound of screeching metal against metal, hopefully something the other pirate had mistaken for armor against weapons, was all Reyna knew for a moment.

When she became aware, the young pirate simply helped her up, and defeated the clockwork beast, telling Reyna to go back to safety. 

Reyna was done for.

She could hear the pirates returning, the cheers of victory, the few stray firecrackers and loads of dynamite being set off, followed by hysterical laughter. They had torches, lanterns, with them. They would know.

Reyna was leaking black, bleeding oil into the layers of concealing clothes and armor that hid her clockwork status. It wouldn’t work for long, not with her wound.

She wouldn’t work for long with this wound, a ravine cut diagonally down her abdomen, metal curling inwards, sparking gears malfunctioning. 

The pirates were approaching, and she wished she could cry. Out of all the things she envied humans for, it was the ability to cry. To sob and scream and fill the entire world with her tears, to cough and hiccup and cry out about the unfairness of it all. 

Reyna, in all technicality, was only a year and a half old. That was how long she was sentient, she had free will. Before that she might as well have been dead. She had so many more years in her, and there was a desperate, clawing need to experience those years, those thousands of sunrises and sunsets, the lazy hours and minutes full of frenzied battle.

She wanted it all.

The group entered the car- emptied now, for easier travels back- and the leader (Sterling, her beautiful first mate, Sterling, who she named, reasonable, perfect Sterling) stopped in her place, mask facing Reyna, as if in disbelief.

“Oh no.” Sterling murmured faintly. Reyna would agree if her vocal mechanisms hadn’t already shut down to preserve power.

Zircon (strong, brave, powerful, protective, amazing) bumped into Sterling, and with a confused sound, looked over her shoulder, and saw Reyna, saw her pitiful, dying form. A wordless cry echoed off of the metal walls, and suddenly Reyna was in a strong embrace.

A chorus of amazingly creative swears followed as the rest of the pirates, both in her own crew and in the young pirate’s, followed. Reyna’s own crew crowded around her, hiding her from the others.

“Can you speak, Captain?” Malachite (wonderful, wise, observant, quiet, pretty) eventually asked.

With a stuttering shake and a quiet, chirruping sound, she indicated that no, she could not speak, she was dying. 

Maybe not in those words, but the message got across.

“Okay, okay okay okay.” Someone was saying, trying not to panic- maybe Meteorite?- we can heal her, we can do this. 

“How?!” Someone whisper-yelled, a sharp motion drawing Reyna’s fuzzy gaze. 

Her optics were going to shut down next. Then her hearing, her movement, her-

Reyna fell into sleep, internally floating, a child in a womb, a baby, a little fawn with no legs to stumble with. She was nothing, everything, mind trying to process the never ending darkness of her emergency protocols. She was dying- was going to die.

She had never thought about death, never thought it applied to her in the sense of experiencing it. Did she even have a soul? Was she worthy of some salvation or damnation? Some quiet, peaceful end? Endless nothingness, like now? A beautiful facade of her perfect life? 

Do machines get to go to the afterlife if they can feel, can love, can hate, can reason, just as much as any other sentient creature? Did being made of metal make her any different, any more or less deserving?

She floated, existentially paralyzed by the broad endlessness of death. 

When she woke up, it was strange. It was little clicking sounds, soft whirring, clunky gears beginning to work. It was her internal processing telling her that her joints were working, hearing, eyes-

Goodness, it was bright.

Reyna woke up lying flat on a bed, bright light shining right into her optics. Blinking her vacant, black ‘eyes’, she blocked out the light and sat up, before opening them again, and wanting to gasp.

She was... well, not naked, but it was strange, to not be clothed in layers upon layers of pirated finery, to not have armor and mystery to protect her and her clockwork body. She looked down, seeing gloveless hands, ones that worked perfectly, every metal knuckle in place, clicking slightly. She saw her legs- one silver and slightly longer, from a musketeer clockwork who was dead before she found him- and the other her original, glinting in bronze and gold.

By the rocking, she was in a ship. Looking around, she realized- it was her ship, the Pyrite Swan, in her own bed. Not that she used it, seeing as clockworks didn’t need to sleep. Apparently, not until now.

“You’re awake!” The excited, in unison voices of Rhodium and Rhenium filled her ears, and she looked towards the doorway, seeing the two standing guard. “We’ve got to tell the others!” 

“Wait!” Reyna’s voice was rough, scratchy and screechy, painful. “Wait.”

The twins stopped, standing seriously and tilting their heads.

“What about- the humans- they-?”

“Oh!” Rhenium gasped. “Oh! So- okay, so after they figured it out- not until we were boarding the ship, but they did find out- Rat Beard almost hurt you, but Zircon almost killed him, and Bonnie Anne of all people defended us! She said to trust us, and the young pirate agreed, said you took that hit for them of all people!”

Rhodium nodded. “And then- oh dear- Emmet got a shot off I’m afraid, almost killed Sterling! She was so angry, told us all to calm down in that Mom Voice she has! It was so cool, they all shut up and let us explain! We set sail and told them our story- well, Sterling told most of it, we all chipped in with our own individual backstories- but goodness, you should have SEEN their faces. I didn’t know whether to laugh or hide!”

The two continued to ramble, back and forth, until finally someone was drawn to the commotion. 

“Zircon- help.” Reyna said simply, and the other clockwork nodded, pulling the twins out by their collars like misbehaving kittens, and then coming back. 

“Captain.” She started, voice stuttering, fearful. “You almost...”

“I didn’t, though.”

“Osmium and Meteorite finally worked together on something, figuring out how to heal you. It was... not pretty.” Zircon said, sitting gently on Reyna’s bedside.

“Maybe they’ll finally get over the romantic tension then.” Reyna muttered, and Zircon laughed.

“Yeah, finally.” 

Reyna sat up again, leaning heavily against Zircon as her systems got used to movement. “Help me up?” She finally said.

“Always, Captain.” Zircon said quietly.

Using her crew mate as a crutch, Reyna limped across her quarters. “I’m going to get dressed. Still doesn’t feel quite right without clothes, anymore.”

“I can help.” Zircon offered. Reyna’s grip on Zircon’s hand strengthened for a moment, a squeeze, a thank you. Heads knocking lightly, a clockwork kiss on the cheek.

Simple black trousers, a white shirt with a ruffled collar, and a captain’s hat, black with a broad golden feather. 

Reyna leaned heavily on Zircon, half starved for the touch, half actually needing it. They made their way across the room, and Zircon opened the doors again to sunlight of a new day. 

“Hey, Captain Ferro.” 

Reyna’s head whipped to the side, a blank slate of white and bronze and gold, maskless, and watched the young pirate captain approach.

“Captain.” They said. “You up to planning the next great adventure?”

Their voice was weak, hoarse. They had bloodshot eyes, a tear stained face. They had shaking hands, but offered Reyna’s sword to her nonetheless, standing tall, like a proper captain.

Reyna stood tall as well, arms off of Zircon, stepping forward. “Of course, Captain.” She said, almost playfully, head tilting as she reached forward- slow, cautiously- and grabbed the hilt of her sword almost reverently. It had dulled from battle, still covered in oil stains. 

She looked back at the young pirate, at their companions and friends behind them, watching. Finally, she spoke again.

“Just give me a few days to rest up, and our crew will be ready to take over the entire Spiral, before you know it!”

At her words, the crew, united, co-captained, broke into a wordless cheer, and Reyna fell back a bit, leaning on Zircon, letting the other girl half carry her back to bed.

Maybe pirates weren’t as savage, as uncivilized as she was programmed to think. Every one of them were thinking, living beings, with feelings, wants, needs. Just like clockworks, like those individual cogs that made up the once existent Armada. 

Pirate, Armada, Clockwork, Compassionate- 

Why not just be every single one? Take every label for herself? 

It’s what pirates do, after all.

[dakotafairystone]

My first drawing for #wiztober2019!

These are my students:

Dakota Fairystone, Victoria Moonbane, Lenora Ash-Horn, Noah Daisypyre, Esmee Moonshard, and REED Raven.

[save-the-spiral]

InkWizTober Day Twenty-Three: Ancient + Equilibrium

Welcome to day twenty-three of inktober! Decided to just kinda write a headcanon. Warning for blood.

(link to prompt lists) (link to inktober tag)

The balancing of the universe has had to take place ever since creatures gained sentience. When they can reason out actions, when they become thinking beings, that’s when the Spiral began to tip on an axis, a whole new dimension, and began to move too quickly, like marbles rolling off of a table. 

Like blood that is supposed to fall into the steel drain, but settles for the grout of tiles or the grooves of concrete slabs. It just seems to happen, and the Spiral itself is no longer able to create, its old creatures dormant for its own good.

That’s when the schools began to oppose each other in earnest. Life and death worked to end the other, ice froze, fire melted, myth dreamed, storm woke with the clap of thunder.

It worked, for a time. It ensured that the magic itself no longer acted out, but still, something was created in the time before the schools evened each other out. Something was created in the darkness that unfolded in an unseen wrinkle of the Spiral.

Then balance magic was created by downtrodden, enslaved creatures. Ones that needed to restore what was lost. They would sacrifice every drop of blood needed for it, and they got it. They paid in blood for generations before they were able to create Balance magic, and finally ruin their oppressors.

And the Spiral began to turn the way it was intended. It dances, the worlds orbiting in perfect time, the stars sparkling, moons shining, suns flaring. 

Even now, the universe is constantly moving, in an unending dance. 

The song’s crescendo is nearing-

Can’t you hear it?