#arathia

[arathia]

One of these days you're gonna have to do another lore video going over the multiple organisms in Arathia. You this so called EX-Librarian, go on and Library us some knowledge while we sit down for class. No this is not an excuse to see Wakraya in a sexy pencil skirt Teacher outfit. This is STRICTLY PROFESSIONAL WORLD BUILDING. 💢📛😭

Pfft, Teacher Wak... I really do need to like, sit down and properly mess around with the flora and fauna of Arathia at some point- I started a Bestiary in the past to keep track of all sorts of things but it's pretty bare-bones compared to the rest of the setting by now...

[esthermika]

Let's share some of our favorite transgender content creators. There's a lot of good content made my queer creators that goes unrecognized, and I want to share some of it, so here some trans youtubers that I've enjoyed watching lately:

[deepflourishrosesstories]

Over the Treacherous Ocean

Male! Naga x Female! Reader

Warning(s): Medieval-ish setting, enemies to lovers, kidnapping, ocean setting, semi-harsh language(?), fluff

Word Count: 2.5k

Synopsis: Kidnapped by pirates for a ransom, you wonder if you could ever come to terms with the captain who drives you crazy from how beautiful he is.

A/N: Just like last time, this story is set in the same world as Swords Clashing, Weaving Through Complications, and my latest addition, A Crown & Masks! The reader will be the middle sister out of the three, who isn't mentioned much previously. This story is currently living in my brain rent-free because I love the thought of enemies to lovers, featuring a ruthless(?) and cocky naga who slowly shows his vulnerability as he starts falling in love and who doesn't.

As a heads-up, there will be lots of world-building, social issues, and history-related topics in the future, so I'm not quite sure if you will enjoy it. BUT, nonetheless, I will absolutely adore you if you do!

Part 2

The port market was bustling as usual, with the smell of all kinds of seafood caught in the neighbouring sea being filled in the air and the sharp tang of spices lingering here and there. Merchants were shouting their products, trying to best their competitors with the promise of better quality and cheaper prices.

You were with your mentor, a wise and knowledgeable healer from the Xaenait palace—Tokimune—whose nine fox tails trailed graciously behind him. He could sometimes be quite above the clouds, where his responses to certain questions were sometimes so bizarre that it took you a while to understand their meaning—it took a long time for you to come to a conclusion that he was not naive, but in fact was just simply a kind and easy-going soul that never really cared about anything outside of medicine. As if to prove it, he didn't bother to change his fox form into a human, showing all of his soft-furred ears and muzzle proudly.

“May I have those astragalus root and honeysuckle flowers?” Tokimune brought two pouches out of his sleeve and handed them to the seller. “Also, do you by any chance have peppermint and cumin in stock?”

Despite having all of those herbs in the palace storage, your mentor always loved to bring souvenirs from these markets, never failing to make you chuckle in amusement.

“Unfortunately, we’re out of peppermint and cumin,” the seller said, scratching his head sheepishly. Nevertheless, he swiftly and effortlessly packaged the astragalus root and honeysuckle flower in the pouch that was displayed, checking for the right amount that the kitsune wanted to have.

“Ah, no worries,” he replied, his eyes thinning from smiling like a fox. “I assume that the trade route between Slainem and Arathia will solve this shortage.”

The seller nodded, excitement twinkling in his eyes. “I can’t wait for it to be done. If you come by in the future, I’ll make sure to have that peppermint and cumin for you.”

Tokimune chuckled. “That will be delightful.”

Once it was done, you accepted the pouch from the seller's hand, and the kitsune gestured for you to walk with him, away from the herb seller.

“Do you know when the trade route is going to finish?” Tokimune asked with his archaic smile still in place.

“I’m not quite sure,” you said, thinking back to your oldest sister, Lan, rubbing her temple tiredly as she attended meetings and read through the paperwork for the project. “But my sister is working endlessly. Especially during the night.”

“Ah, I will send her some lemon balm tea to encourage her sleep,” he said with a chuckle. Your older sister was infamous for her tendency to stay up late to finish her work. "Perhaps Ryugen would be fit for the job."

“You will also have to tell him to watch her until she drinks it all,” you joked, to which the kitsune laughed heartily, showing all of his sharp teeth.

Alongside you and your mentor, disguised officials surveyed the market to check for any illegal imports that frequented the trade from pirates that entered the port. Many of them reported back to you, assuring that most of them were fine and that they were taking care of the ones that weren’t.

Just as you were about to thank them, a loud bang! sent a shock through your ears and the next thing you knew, one of the buildings blew up—you noticed that it was one of the lower-rank brothels. The market immediately tumbled into chaos, with screams and hurried footsteps rumbling to the ground.

“Your Highness!” 

Two officials came to your side and swiftly escorted you through the haze of dust and avoiding the tightly packed people by navigating through the less crowded places. Tokimune placed a helping hand on your back, gently ushering you forward, which you were grateful for—despite all the training you had with your sisters, your fear got the best of you in these situations for a lot of the time.

“We are almost there to our carriage!” the senior official shouted over the noise, guiding you and the others by braving the front.

As the carriage came into view, you sighed in relief and got onto it quickly, followed by Tokimune, and you immediately relaxed in the seat as the horses started to gallop, gradually picking up speed. However, the carriage came to a screeching halt and the door suddenly opened, and the next thing you knew, hands were shooting out to grab you. One of them caught your arm and roughly pulled you out of the carriage.

Finding your footing on the ground, you unsheathed your knife and tried to attack the offender, yet it immediately got knocked off of your shaking hand and the next thing you knew, your hands were tied and you were thrown onto their shoulder. With your levitated line of sight, you felt the blood rush out of your face once you saw that all of your guards, officials, and Tokimune were knocked out on the ground.

Trying to wriggle out of their grasp, you demanded with a snarl, “Let me down!”

“No can’t do, your highness” a voice said in front of you.

Looking up, a dark-skinned human man smiled—albeit slightly apologetically—at you. There was another, taller and buffer man that scowled at the easy-going nature of the other; with light green skin and small tusks protruding out of his thin-lipped mouth, you realised that he was a half-orc.

The half-orc grumbled something under his breath before he brought out a cloth and pressed it against your nose and mouth, filling you with a sickly sweet smell through your senses that gradually dwindled your anger into drowsiness as your vision enveloped into a black veil.

———

Once you woke up, you immediately felt the unstable ground, rocking back and forth in a steady rhythm that occasionally made you slide across the wooden floor where you were lying. Voices and grunts filled your ears, alongside the recognisable crashes of waves of the ocean. You were aboard a ship, and god knows how far you were away from the port.

Gasping in shock, you sat up with a jolt, only to feel the tightness of the rope digging into your wrist and ankle painfully.

“Finally awake, princess?”

A shadow towered over you against the setting sun. Taking your eyes off of the wooden deck, the first thing you saw was a glimmer of bright pale blue scales that seemed to trail endlessly into a snake tail. Slowly, you looked up to see the scales morph into a tanned human skin, bare and muscular, with intricate tattoos circling around his biceps. Finally, your gaze landed on his face—he was so beautiful that it made you dizzy and light-headed. His long silver hair was tied up in a messy bun above his head, with some strands falling gracefully down his cheekbones to his glimmering collarbones. His eyes shined a beautiful golden colour around the centre, turning a gradient to a turquoise colour around the rim, and his thin, vertical black pupil pierced you to your spot.

“What do you want from me?” you asked through gritted teeth, desperately trying to ignore your heart that was powerfully beating against your ribcage. 

“I expect a ransom out of you,” the naga said, a furrow covering his brow as you asked the question, twitching ever so slightly in irritation.

“How did you know I’ll be at the ports today?”

“Luck seems to be on our side today, princess.”

Blood rushed up to your head, and you couldn’t tell whether it was anger or his deep voice that reverberated inside you sultrily.

“Do not call me that.”

“I make the rules here, princess,” he said as an arrogant smile nestled widely on his face. “Captain Tamva, at your service.”

The tip of his snake tail swished to the side as Tamva placed his hand on his chest and leaned forward into a mocking bow.

“How bright of you to let me remember your name,” you said, sarcasm dripping venomously. Scanning the ship nervously, you tried to see if you could see any land across the ocean, only to find nothing but endless water.

The naga narrowed his eyes as his forked tongue slipped out from between his lips, revealing his sharp fang. “I’m not worried about my crew getting caught. Xaenait never had any control over the waters to begin with.”

You winced. That was a sore spot for you, especially when you had just been at the port market alongside officials to check the illegal imports brought into the dynasty from pirates like him.

“I will personally find you,” you spat. “And make sure you will be chained and thrown in a cell to rot.”

Something in his eyes darkened, and ever so slowly, he started to slither towards. Just as he was right in front of you, he lowered his face to you, harshly grabbing your jaw in a painful grip as he forced your eyes on him.

“You threaten all those things, yet I heard that you couldn’t even start a fight when we captured you at the port,” Tamva said, an ugly curl in his lips and eyes that looked at you with such disgust in his eyes, your breath hitched into a stop. “Pathetic.”

Eyes wide from fear, you felt a shiver run down through you when his forked tongue ever so lightly grazed your lips, all the while fuming at his insults.

Satisfied to see your eyes flaring in anger, he lets go of you with a rough push, turning his back on you.

“Bring her down the cell, boys!”

“Yessir!” the crew all shouted in response.

The human and the half-orc from before took your arms and lifted you up, dragging you into the dark cell.

——— 

The cell was dark, damp, and cold. Although your ropes were untied and you weren’t chained, the iron bars didn’t forgive any possible escape. All of your belongings were stripped away from you, including the pouch of herbs you bought at the market with Tokimune, and angry tears prickled your eyes at how helpless you felt.

Night apparently has fallen, as a gnoll brought a plate of stale, hard bread and cheese to eat for dinner. He slid it under the cell and seeing your apprehensiveness of accepting the food, the gnoll let out a high-pitched laugh, assuring you that it was bought from the market today. Still tentative, you took a bite, and devoured it down as your stomach rumbled with hunger; the gnoll was there the whole time, keeping watch. Once you were done, you begrudgingly thanked him and slid the plate back at him and he accepted your gratitude with a chuckle.

Before he left, he told you, “I was surprised, you know, when you pulled out that knife when I grabbed you out of the carriage. Wasn’t expecting it.”

With a start, you realised he was the one who carried you to this ship and you narrowed your eyes at him, to which he responded with another howling laugh that lasted even after he closed the door behind him.

Another hour or so passed when the door opened. Your head perked up at the sound and you watched with a racing heart as blue scales emerged from the entrance, glimmering against the lamp.

“You,” you sneered, nose scrunching from distaste.

“Yes, princess. It’s me.”

Tamvan gave a little scoff as he slithered inside, curling his long tail, at least thrice your height, in a circle around him before closing the door. Unlike earlier, he wore a navy-coloured coat on his broad figure, the silver embroidery blending in well with his hair. The urge to stab his tail and ruin his beautiful scales was so great, that your fingers tightly gripped the cell bar until your knuckle turned white—alas, your knife was somewhere in the port when that gnoll slapped it away from you.

“What do you want?”

“I’m here to keep an eye on you.”

You were surprised at that, and equally vexed by the thought that he would be here the entire night as you slept.

“Don’t worry, princess.” 

From the pouch hanging lowly on his hip belt, he brought out a neatly folded paper, and with a start, you noticed the Xaenait emblem—a wax sealed with the shape of a magnolia flower.

“Your father promised to pay an extra three hundred gold coins if ‘the princess is unscathed and unharmed’,” he read from the paper, a taunting smile plastered on his thin, pale lips.  “How generous of his highness.”

He rolled his eyes at the fierce glare you sent his way. Nonetheless, he showed you the paper, and relief washed over you at seeing your father’s handwriting and the vermillion, square stamp at the end of the paragraph.

“The deal’s settled. You’ll be released back to your little palace in three nights.”

An unconconscious sigh left you, your fingers on the bars loosening as well.

Tamva chuckled obnoxiously. “How delightful to see you’re finally in a good mood.”

Your body tensed at his unneeded comment. “How would you feel if you were kidnapped and thrown in a cell?”

“Be thankful that you’re not in chains, and that none of my crews are laying a hand on you,” he hissed. “Most pirates aren’t as generous as us.”

“Thank you so much for your hospitality, then,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Could you also be ever so kind and give me a tour under the starry night?”

His powerful tail hit your cell bars, narrowly missing your hands as the impact rattled the iron. You yelped as a great wave of fear hit you, the sound of his tail striking the bars ringing in your ears unpleasantly.

“I will say it once and I won’t repeat it again,” he said through gritted teeth, “you may be a princess in Xaenait, but as long as you’re on my ship, you’ll learn to know your place.”

Recovering from the shock, you leaned closer to the bars and retorted back at him in a low voice, trying to keep your voice from shaking, “Well, let’s see what happens to that extra three hundred gold coins then.”

Tamva let out another great hiss, his forked tongue tasting your fear in the air, yet didn’t say anything back at you, knowing that he was greatly risking your father’s offer. He heaved a sigh and sat on a stool, arms crossed as he watched you with a cold gaze.

Ignoring his stare, you turned away and hesitantly settled on the wooden floor, shutting your eyes in hopes of finding sleep. All the while, Tamva watched you unwaveringly, laughing to himself incredulously at how quickly you fell asleep despite being held hostage. You smelled of herbs that left a tang, bitter smell on his nose, while his tongue captured the sweetness of your scent that lingered in the air like a vice.

All those glares and scowls you gave him were quite amusing to him, but also ever the more irritating and confusing to see how much you fought back futilely despite your helplessness and fear. But now, seeing the gentle rise and fall of your body from snoring softly in your sleep, his eyes unconsciously softened, and his heartbeat quickened its pace ever so slightly.

A breath of cold air entered through the gaps in the door, which made a shiver ripple through him despite the coat he wore. He cursed himself for not bringing a thicker coat, not realising how cold the cell was for his cold-blooded body. Glancing at your sleeping form, he felt the heat radiating off of you pleasantly, making him wonder if you would screech at him in rage if he were to curl his tail around your body.

Shaking his head to clear those thoughts away, he hugged his coat tighter and leaned closer to the lamp instead, trying to alleviate the cold and perhaps to ignore the slight longing he felt to feel the warmth from you.

Part 2

Check out my other stories set in the same world! (It might help with understanding some of the overlaps mentioned in this story)

Swords Clashing (Orc x F! Reader)

Weaving Through Complications (Tiefling x F! Reader)

A Crown & Masks (Oni x F! Reader)

[redwayfarers]

ties that sever, ties that bind

Fandom: Wayfarer Ship: Intellis (implied) Characters: Cassander Inteus, Despina Helena Inteus Rating: Gen Words: 2375 Spoilers: Mild spoilers for ep2! Author's note: this is the final part of a series, though it can be read as a standalone. Read the rest over on ao3! divider credit

Find Zenaida, the agreement goes. Split up and find Zenaida. She has one of those faces you see in the crowd, full of other equally bright, decorated and artificial faces. Aeran whispered to me she seemed more honest than most, earlier, and maybe she is, on the Dareia. But here, in the crowds of nobles? She’s like everyone else. 

When you grow up around these things, it’s easy for one face to replace another. I vividly remember the few events I was invited to as a kid; I was told to not speak to people, to just nod along to whatever they’re saying and sit in the corner, a child-shaped statue. I wasn’t to embarrass the family, Aiantes said. 

So they got me all dressed up, in one of those child appropriate versions of adult serithans, and styled my hair out of the way. A curl or three would inevitably slip, even if the hands that had braided them were very skilled, and I remember Theokleia staring me down. We have the same hair, my mother and I. I knew her hair wasn’t as flawless as she’d pretended it was. 

She never forgave me for that. And for many other things, but the knowledge that the same trait that gave us both a sharp, prominent nose also gave us the same coarse curls was like a cherry on top of a cake of hatred. Her makeup was always well done, gold like her eyes. Her nails were long and pretty, painted to match her serithan. She always wore gold jewelry, rings, necklaces, earrings. 

And me? Gold dangled off of me in much the same way, mismatched and too grown up. The nails were a little too much, but I was allowed a dash of white every now and then. And so we’d pose, my mother and I, show the world my health is just fine for the moment, and I’d be carted off to a seat in the back, with my back ramrod straight, mindful for any movement, sound or word. 

Aiantes wore luxury more effortlessly than his wife. The simple styles of the Vestran elite suited him better than they did Theokleia; they made him look graceful, pristine. Yet he too was dissatisfied; he was rarely allowed to be an eyesore he wanted to be, in bright colors. Too Arathian, I heard him mumble under his breath. Too much, too foreign, too extreme. But he watched turquoise cloth with barely restrained yearning. 

And here I am, almost two decades later, in that same Arathia my father hated and envied at the same time. Mahanin Palace roars around me, proud and loud and unapologetic, and I’m walking amongst the crowds of nobles with my scars and tattoos, dressed in turquoise, with a Wayfarer pendant around my neck. The same curls Theokleia struggles to keep in line are now more defined than they've ever been and braided loosely on my shoulder. 

It’s freeing, in a way. As much as I’m filled with memories that were never mine to begin with, there’s this strange sense of exhilaration about it as well. I am not bound by the same social conventions as everyone else. My lack of magic made sure of that. Instead, I can walk around with the ink on my skin and not worry about jack shit. I can wear my hard-earned scars and not worry about how it may appear to some stuffy asshole who’s never seen any trouble in their fucking life. 

That, and I’m taller than most people I see. Aeran jokes that I’ll spot Zenaida for that alone, and that same Aeran didn’t tear his eyes off me before we joined the throng. That same Aeran kept touching my fingers ever so slightly, whose presence was the soothing balm for the weirdness that is dealing with the aristocracy like this again. 

When he’s gone, I feel plunged into deep, dark waters of my long-lost destiny or some poetic shit like that. People are watching, staring. The Cassander from years ago - the child in the corner, ramrod straight, watching like a hawk for any infraction - rears his little curly head and watches. I am not that kid anymore, I outgrew this! Yet my throat feels tight. My skin feels exposed, but I want them to look. I want their hungry stares and I want to be as unsightly as I can be, just so their worst fears can come to life. 

A Wayfarer, straight from Wayfaring Lands, in their fucking midst. An Inteus, from Vestra, the Red Wayfarer everyone kept whispering about during the civil war. A class traitor, almost. A cursed being. An eternal exile. 

Find Zenaida, the deal goes. She has to eat, probably. Off to the Pavillions, then, as one very rude servant instructed me. His eyes were trained on my pendant. “I haven’t acquired the ability to not eat and survive yet,” I breathed with equal amounts of venom. The guy just turned his back to me and left. Find Zenaida. Zenaida will eat. 

The Pavillions look like a place where people’s marriages fall apart. Nobles mingle, laugh, at ease with each other, so different from the stiffness of the parties in pre-war Vestra. Some give me strange looks - an exotic animal walks in our midst, better drop my eyeballs to the ground from how hard I stare, right? Languages mix in my ears alongside accented Arathian. These people are educated, beautiful, carefree. I could’ve been one of them, in another life. I understand every word they’re saying. 

Suddenly, Vestran hits me like a knife to the gut. I turn my head and spot them, their simple serithans, their loose hairs, their sparse jewelry. They speak with the familiar lilt of Vodena, fast and flowing like the city itself; there are harsh, slow drags of northern dialects and the absolute, nigh incomprehensible mess that falls under the way southern Vestrans speak. They didn’t speak like this when I was a kid. They spoke like the nobility of Vodena. They are relaxed now, so they’re not forcing the fucking issue.

Amongst them is a round, short woman in white. My heart clenches in my chest. She moves her hands rapidly as she speaks, revealing details of pink here and there. Her nails are flashes of dark pink. Her hair is black, wavy and glossy. 

My sister Despina has always had a huge love for pink. She was allowed to wear darker pinks, more graceful pinks, but only in bits and pieces. Pink has always been her statement color. Her serithans reminded me of Theokleia’s, merely adjusted to the body of a developing teenager; she wore the weight of them as much as I did. What a small mercy, I think bitterly, to be allowed to wear a spot of color. To be allowed to express personal preferences. 

When she turns around in my direction, I dig my heels in the ground. She looks like Aiantes, now even more so as an adult. She may have the precocious balance between a curl and a strand of hair and the golden eyes that many elves have, but she’s her father’s daughter. The way she holds herself proves it. She doesn’t let the brief shock in her eyes show but joins her fingers before her instead. She watches me, judging, in the same way Aiantes did, as if her elven eyesight allows her to pierce souls as well as darkness. 

Despina lowers one hand to rest near a plate of sliced oranges. I blink. My legs refuse to stay still and move where they’re supposed to, so I’m slowly walking towards my sister and the oranges near her hand. I vaguely remember someone telling me she used to feed me oranges when I was a baby. I don’t believe it, personally. Sounds less plausible than me suddenly getting magic. 

I reach out to take one. My heart wants to leave my body to convulse and die through my throat. Neither of us are looking away. The chatter of the Vestran delegation dies down. 

Despina moves her hand. Not fast enough, though. One touch and she’s looking away. “Red Wayfarer?” she asks softly, in Vestran. 

“Despina Helena Inteus?” I reply just as quietly, in the same Vestran as her. Mine sounds tainted with Arathian. “I have a name, you know. I am not just a Wayfarer. There’s a person somewhere as well.” 

“Cassander,” she says. She says it differently, though. Kassandros. “Why are you here, Kassandros?”

“I am Zenaida Anaxas’ bodyguard,” I reply quietly. Her eyes blaze, assessing, before she takes one orange slice and bites into it. 

“Whatever happened to Lady Markal?” 

“Dangers are many,” I say cryptically. It almost makes me laugh. And I do, only more quietly than I would’ve normally. Despina watches me, playing with the delicate silks of her serithan. 

“Lady Anaxas has always been a rather odd woman, from what I hear,” she shrugs. “I did not expect her to hire a magianis bodyguard, though.” A pause. “I thought you had died, Wayfarer Inteus.”

She speaks so evenly, so formally, her words accented so precisely I could’ve been reading a grammar. Nobody speaks like that. Aiantes didn’t speak like that, Theokleia didn’t either - not when the eyes of the world were away, at the very least.  She’s barely blinking, her body is tense. What is she afraid of? 

“Fortunately for all of us, I am here to entertain yet again,” I say, more harshly than I intended. “Cockroaches are hard to kill.” 

“I do not find your existence entertaining,” Despina says. 

“Not even when I was a kid? Not even before you knew I was a magianis, not even when you supposedly fed me these fucking things? Do sisters not play with their brothers?” There, an accusation, right at her feet, because otherwise we’d be here talking in circles forever. Her tone does not allow for any acceleration, but for fuck’s sake, mine will. 

Despina purses her lips. Wind blows her hair to and fro, light and breezy, but the way her back straightens is anything but. She is now the ramrod straight, cornered child. Part of me feels horrified. Part of me wants to push, to prod, to ask all the questions that have been on my mind for decades. Where were you when I needed you? Where were you, o’ older sister, where were you when our own mother slapped me across the face and watched me beg and cry on the ground? Where were you when she threw all her rage on me, like a bag nobody wants, where were you? 

Oh right! By her side, laughing, watching, throwing insults as well, immaculate, coward, fucking weak! Anger boils in my very being. The oranges stare at us as a stark reminder of what we had, before nature fucked up. 

“Officially,” she starts cautiously, “that did not happen.”

“Officially? And that never lies!” 

“Truthfully,” she says, as if I never responded, “the line was drawn and I had to choose. So I made a choice.” 

Anger dissipates. She’s the first to acknowledge what’s happened - my parents refused, Aftonio had no idea, Nikias rejected the concept altogether - but Despina.. Said it. Here, in the same empire that loomed over our heads when we were kids, like a demanding mother. Theokleia isn’t here to judge us, though. She is away, she’s somewhere else. 

And in her wake she leaves her eldest children to admit to ancient wrongs. And do what with that exactly? What will I gain by confirmation? What happened can’t be undone. They took my peace years ago. What will I gain by this? It lingers in the air, a dagger to cut the knots of anger and shame or slit your own throat. 

“Do you even care what my opinion of that choice is?” I whisper bitterly. “Not like it’ll change shit.” 

“Not like it’ll change shit,” she echoes, now in a more normal, less proper accent. “I simply felt like you should know. Do with that what you will.”

I eat an orange. It is juicy, sweet and tastes entirely too much like ashes. “I am here on a job, Despina,” I say hoarsely. My eyes are weirdly dry. Maybe my heart soaked all the tears. “Tell me one more thing before I leave - are my orange groves safe and sound?” 

I used to escape there when life as an Inteus became too much. Too bad I didn’t chase that label away when I could, at inauguration. I loved those groves. There were no orange groves at the Spire to escape to, when life as a Wayfarer became too much at times. It’s the only thing I think of fondly when I think of that fucking estate. 

“They are,” she says softly, like a goodbye. I take a look at her one last time - her shiny waves, her made up, long eyelashes, her thinly lined, golden eyes, the curves of her shoulder and belly in her serithan, the dusk of her skin in firelight - and I feel my eyes prickling. 

“Thank you,” I whisper at the oranges. “I hope you treat your heirs better than our mother did hers.” 

We exchange glances one more time, for a mere moment a brother and sister again, and she turns to the rest of the delegation like nothing happened. And me? Rasimira’s talking to a group of nobles. They’re pestering the poor steward about something. There’s no sign of Zenaida, but maybe Rasimira knows where she is. 

My heart feels like a soggy cloth, but I am here on a job. I am a professional. Nothing else matters. Still, part of me hopes that Despina’s children don’t face the horrors I have. Part of me hopes one of them is magianis, so at least a part of me lives in that family. Maybe I will see them in a few decades or so. 

And maybe we can all sit around our parents’ graves and discuss what they’d done to us all. Maybe then we can bury our hatchets, or raise new ones, of our own make. A Wayfarer, Lady Inteus, a Guild mage, and whatever the fuck Nikias ends up as. 

I have a job to do. 

[kingscyrus]

Indorian Language update

Name of the Language: Indorian

Phonetics: The language could have a mixture of elegant and commanding sounds, with a preference for smooth, flowing syllables. It might feature a variety of vowel sounds and some more complex consonants to convey strength and authority.

Grammar: Indorian grammar could be structured to reflect an organized and strategic mindset. It might prioritize clarity and precision, with straightforward word order and concise expressions. 

Vocabulary: The vocabulary could draw inspiration from Cyrus' royal status, incorporating terms related to leadership, governance, and nobility. Additionally, it might include words associated with honor, courage, and integrity, reflecting Cyrus' admirable qualities.

Writing System: The writing system could feature ornate, regal characters reminiscent of ancient scripts, reflecting the grandeur of Cyrus' kingdom. It might include intricate calligraphy and decorative flourishes to convey elegance and sophistication.

Cultural Influences: Since Cyrus is a fantasy character, his language could be influenced by the magical elements of his world. It might include terms related to mysticism, prophecy, and enchantment, reflecting the mystical nature of his kingdom.

Examples: Here are some sample phrases in Indorian: - Grentias yulon kros: "Honor guides us." - Vindor halseth cyrus: "Victory follows Cyrus." - Erothiendai soler: "The sun shines bright." - Sylvestorah elendir: "The forest whispers." - Aduros vorthas kairi: "Courage knows no fear." - Cyrothiendros amarindor: "Cyrus leads with wisdom." - Arathia yuloria cyras: "Strength lies within Cyrus." - Solathorien elendoras: "The stars guide our path." - Valyndor sylios kairon: "Valor shines in adversity." - Elenethor cyrias gralindor: "The king's heart is noble."

These phrases aim to capture the essence of Cyrus and his kingdom, showcasing themes of honor, leadership, and the enchanting world he inhabits. 

[foggystorywriter]

The Wizard's Tower

The city of Arathia was in chaos. For weeks, strange things had been happening: crops had withered, animals had gone mad, and people had disappeared without a trace. The cause of the trouble was a powerful wizard named Zoltar, who had set up shop in a tower on the outskirts of the city.

The king had put out a call for adventurers to deal with the wizard, and a group had answered: Arin the dwarf, Malia the elf, and Kael the human.

The three companions made their way through the winding streets of Arathia, drawing strange looks from the locals as they passed. Finally, they arrived at the wizard's tower, a spire that rose high into the sky, surrounded by a moat of shimmering blue water.

Arin approached the drawbridge cautiously, his axe at the ready. As he stepped onto the bridge, the water of the moat surged up, forming into a massive wave that crashed down on him.

Malia and Kael rushed to help him, but before they could reach him, Arin had disappeared into the water.

Malia cursed and Kael drew his sword, preparing to charge across the bridge, but then a voice spoke in their minds. It was Zoltar.

"Welcome, adventurers. I see you've come to challenge me. But I warn you, I am not to be trifled with."

Malia drew her bow and fired an arrow at the tower, but it bounced harmlessly off the stone.

Kael charged across the bridge, his sword flashing in the sunlight. But as he reached the tower, he was struck by a bolt of lightning, knocking him to the ground.

Malia rushed to his side, but then Zoltar spoke again.

"Enough! I tire of this game. Come, enter my tower, and we will settle this face to face."

Malia and Kael exchanged glances, then cautiously made their way across the drawbridge.

Inside the tower, they climbed winding staircases and navigated traps, encountering Zoltar's minions at every turn. But finally, they reached the top, where Zoltar was waiting.

The wizard was an imposing figure, his robe flowing around him, his eyes glowing with power.

"So," he said. "You've come to challenge me. Very well. Let us see what you're made of."

And with a flick of his wrist, Zoltar unleashed a barrage of spells, lightning and fire filling the room.

Malia and Kael fought bravely, dodging the spells and striking back with their weapons. And then, just as they were about to deliver the final blow, Zoltar disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

The tower shook, and the companions realized that the wizard had set off a massive explosion, destroying his own tower and killing himself in the process.

As they made their way back to the city, the people of Arathia cheered and hailed them as heroes. The curse that had plagued the city was lifted, and the companions were hailed as saviors.

And though they knew that there would be other dangers in the future, they felt a sense of pride and accomplishment, knowing that they had saved a city and defeated a powerful wizard.

[iuqueenlei]

Potters always falls in love at first sight

As the dawn broke over the kingdom of Arathia, James Potter, the crown prince, gazed out at the rolling hills and verdant forests that stretched out before him. He was a magnificent figure, tall and handsome, with piercing hazel eyes and a mane of untamed hair.

On this particular morning, James was out for a ride on his stallion, Thunder, enjoying the cool breeze and the solitude of the countryside. But as he crested a hill and caught sight of a stunning young woman walking along the path below, his thoughts were quickly pulled away from his own musings.

Lily Evans was a vision of beauty, with cascading red hair and sparkling emerald eyes. She was a human, a rare and precious creature in the magical kingdom of Arathia, where James and his kin ruled supreme.

As he watched, Lily stumbled on a loose stone and stumbled, narrowly avoiding a fall. Without hesitation, James urged Thunder into a gallop and rode to her aid.

"My lady, are you injured?" he called out as he dismounted, offering her a hand to steady herself.

Lily looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise and gratitude. "No, thank you," she said breathlessly. "I'm fine, just a bit clumsy."

James chuckled and helped her to her feet. "Well, it's a good thing I was passing by then," he said with a wink.

As they stood there, gazing into each other's eyes, a spark was ignited between them. Lily was drawn to James's magnificent looks and grace, and he was captivated by her fiery spirit and beauty.

And so, as the sun set on that fateful day, James and Lily knew that they were meant to be together, united in love and destined to rule the kingdom of Arathia as its King and Queen

__-______-

As James and Lily's love grew stronger with each passing day, they found themselves seeking out more and more adventures together. And there was no one they enjoyed these adventures with more than James's closest friend and confidant, Lord Sirius Black.

Sirius was a wild and carefree young noble, always up for a good time and eager to join James and Lily on their escapades. Together, the three of them explored the kingdom, braving danger and discovering hidden secrets in the most unlikely of places.

But as the years passed and James and Lily's love deepened, Sirius began to feel a twinge of jealousy. Though he cared for them deeply, he couldn't help but wish that he, too, could find the kind of love and happiness that they shared.

Despite this, Sirius remained a loyal friend, standing by James and Lily through thick and thin. And when James finally proposed to Lily, Sirius was the first to offer his congratulations and support.

As the wedding day approached, Sirius found himself feeling more and more envious of his friends. But when he saw the love and adoration in their eyes as they exchanged vows, he knew that he could never begrudge them their happiness.

And so, as the sun set on their special day, James and Lily were united as husband and wife, surrounded by the love and support of their friends and family.

As for Sirius, he knew that he would always cherish the adventures and memories he shared with his dear friends, and that one day, he, too, would find the love and happiness that he had always desired

___---__-_-_

As James and Lily settled into their roles as King and Queen of Arathia, they were overjoyed to welcome their son, Harry, into the world. Despite the joy and love that filled their lives, however, there were those in the kingdom who did not accept Harry as the rightful crown prince.

For Harry was a half-blood, born of both magical and human ancestry, and there were many purebloods who saw this as a stain on the royal line. They whispered behind closed doors and plotted to undermine Harry's claim to the throne, seeking to install a pureblood prince in his place.

But James and Lily would not stand for this. They knew that Harry was the true and rightful heir to the throne, and they vowed to protect him and his future at all costs.

When a group of rebellious purebloods publicly disrespected the Queen and crown prince, James knew that he had to take action. He summoned the offenders to court and, with the backing of his loyal council, delivered a stern reprimand.

"You will show respect for the Queen and crown prince, or face the consequences," he declared, his voice strong and steady.

The purebloods were cowed by James's words and, with a mixture of fear and resentment, they bowed their heads in submission. From that day on, they knew that they could not trifle with the King and his family.

As for Harry, he grew up to be a strong and just ruler, following in the footsteps of his parents and carrying on their legacy of love and fairness. And though there were still those who opposed him, he knew that he had the support and love of his family to see him through any challenges that may come his way

__-__-___-_-__-

As Harry grew into a young man and began to take on more responsibilities as the crown prince, he found himself longing for adventure and excitement. And it was on one of his travels outside of the kingdom that he met Ginny Wesley, a low-ranking noble with a fiery spirit and a thirst for adventure.

The moment their eyes met, Harry knew that he was meant to be with Ginny. She was unlike any woman he had ever met, with a quick wit and a fierce determination that he found utterly captivating.

Ginny, for her part, was equally smitten with Harry. Though he was the crown prince and she was but a simple noble, she knew that their love was meant to be.

But their happiness was not meant to be easy. For Ginny longed to break free of the constraints of her station and travel the world, experiencing all that it had to offer. And Harry, as the future king, was expected to stay within the confines of the kingdom and fulfill his duties.

Determined to be together, Harry and Ginny decided to rebel against the expectations placed upon them. Together, they set out on a journey of self-discovery and adventure, exploring distant lands and experiencing all that life had to offer.

Along the way, they encountered many challenges and obstacles, but they faced them all with courage and determination. And in the end, they emerged stronger and more in love than ever before.

As they returned to the kingdom, Harry and Ginny knew that they could not keep their love a secret any longer. They went before the council and declared their love for each other, pledging to spend the rest of their lives together.

And though there were those who opposed their union, Harry knew that he had the support of his family and friends. With Ginny by his side, he knew that he could overcome any obstacle that may come his way

-__-___-_-_-_

As Harry and Ginny settled into their roles as the crown prince and princess of Arathia, they often found themselves seeking out the company of James and Lily, seeking guidance and advice from their wise and loving parents.

"How did you know that you were meant to be together?" Ginny asked one day as the four of them sat in the gardens, enjoying the warm sunshine.

James chuckled and wrapped an arm around Lily, pulling her close. "It was love at first sight, my dear," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "The moment I saw Lily, I knew that she was the one for me."

Lily blushed and leaned into James's embrace. "And I knew that James was the one for me when he saved me from falling on the path," she said with a smile.

Harry and Ginny exchanged a glance, both of them filled with love and longing. "We had a similar experience," Harry said, taking Ginny's hand in his. "The moment our eyes met, we knew that we were meant to be together."

Ginny squeezed Harry's hand, her heart overflowing with love. "And now, we're going to have a child together," she said softly.

James and Lily's eyes lit up with joy at the news of Ginny's pregnancy. "We couldn't be happier for you both," James said, his voice choked with emotion.

Lily reached out and took Ginny's hand, offering her a warm and loving smile. "We will be here for you every step of the way, my dear," she said. "We are all in this together, as a family."

And with that, the four of them shared a warm and loving embrace, their hearts full of love and joy

[missfinefeather]

https://youtu.be/MmCaye66xpU

This is a mini-liveblog of me watching an early cut of the animatic I did in private DMs with Wak! ^^ See the rest under after the cut!

[homestuckexamination]

Look at that, last month’s essay about the Creative Process is now out for the public! Feel free to check it out! I had a blast writing this one, and I even get to shill myself a little bit. :p

Either way, if you like what I do, and would like to show your support, please feel free to follow me on Patreon!

[wakraya]

is arathia still in development

Don't worry about it.

[arathia]

Does time travel exist in this universe or is it not something you considered magic wise?

It did, and does, but also doesn't. There's an entire element of Magic relating to Time-related shenanigans, but in modern times, Time Magic in general has become a lot more unstable and less reliable.

Still, some particularly adept Time Mages are capable of communion and interaction with parallel Timelines, or very limited travel within their own. They cannot exactly 'stop' or 'prevent' events that have happened, but they can preempt things. Messing with the fabric of Time too much is dangerous, though, and Time Mages who recklessly try to push its boundaries or spend too much time dealing with alternate streams of causality, can end up accidentally generating Doppelgangers, and, if gone too far, have their own causality Shatter and collapse into multidimensional body horror anomalies.

So yeah. Time Travel is extremely limited, but some instances exist, but also even Mages who can push things that far will think twice about it, lest they tear their own existence apart. Time Magic is largely better used to locally alter the flow of time.

[kirindoeskomics]

backstory for my girlboss oc

[zestyzealot]

Anyone else think this would sound super cool as the intro to a Fantasy novel?

Let’s say your matrilineal line is fairly consistent and everyone has their daughter at 25. So four women in your matrilineal line are born every hundred years. In a thousand years, that’s only 40 women. Like the math is so simple and yet ? You don’t think about it. So in 2000 years, 80 women. So basically, 0 AD started roughly about 80 mothers ago. That’s it.

[idrellegames]

Hey! Sorry if this has been covered on this blog/in the game before, i couldn't find it from a cursory search! What are beauty standards like in the world of the game? How much does it vary between races/cultures? Are there traits that are more universally considered desirable? Thanks!

Beauty standards vary quite a bit from region to region and nation to nation. It is very much cultural and not based on ancestry, with some notable exceptions. Melusine and aeda cities (like Maira and Aos) have their own customs that typically do not apply to non-melusine and non-aeda, but again it's more to do with culture (their cities tend to be almost entirely homogenous because of the location... you're not going to find humans/elves/dwarves living in underwater melusine cities without constant magical aid).

Because the game is set in the Lotharic region, I'm going to focus on that.

Long hair (any texture) is considered desirable. Braiding is the preferred/customary way of styling it, with braids getting more elaborate the higher status someone is. Decorative pieces are typically added to the braids (the amount and type is typically an indication of your socioeconomic status).

Makeup is used to enhance natural facial features, but not cover or change them. Eye makeup is extremely popular and occasionally takes cues and trends from the makeup used in popular theatrical productions. Among the upper social classes, it's more common to apply makeup through magic (if you cannot do it yourself, you can hire someone to do it for you), though this makeup is illusionary. It can vary from person to person depending on their preferences.

Visible scarring is extremely uncommon and stands out. It's seen as either a sign that 1) you could not afford to heal the injury with magic, 2) the injury itself could not be healed with magic, or 3) you're immune to magic.

Tattoos are not very common in the Arathian Empire, but some of the former Lotharic city-states had tattooing practices before they became Imperial territory. Farandor has elaborate tattooing practices that go back over a millennia (Calla has back tattoos, just to make her design even more complex 🤣). In Arathia, Faran tattoos are sometimes looked down on because of the association with Farandor (the countries were at war for a very long time in the past, there's heated history there).

[coldshrugs]

for the touch prompts, maybe 8 or 20 + effie/aeran? 👀

!!!! thank you dani !!!! we love pre-canon romantic confusion in this house!

prompt: shielding the other one with their body/stitching up an injury pairing: ephyra metaxas/aeran kellis word count: 760 | rating: M (canon typical violence/death) [touch prompts]

Effie barely hears the shout over the clash of steel in front of her, the sound of her pulse pounding in her own ears.

Aeran.

She knows things must be bad if he’s calling out but she just can’t get there right now. She’s got her own trouble to deal with first.

The bandit in front of her rushes at her with maddening speed and Effie can’t be faster so she’ll have to be smarter. She takes half a step to shift her weight to the right but quickly changes the hold on her sword to favor a swing from the left. Just before he makes his attack, she’s back on the left and parries him away.

Shock is plain on his face, his hesitation giving her the few seconds needed to barrel forward and plunge the sword into his neck. The rippled silver steel comes away with a thick sheen of blood.

“Effie! Little help, please?!”

Shit.

She turns to see Aeran cornered by a huge brute of a man. A few arrows -- Alassar and normal ones -- poke through the leather armor on the bandit’s chest but he’s not backing down. He clearly doesn’t need magic to be a threat. Aeran’s eyes are wide, scared. Blood trickles from his lip and a gash on his thigh.

Effie runs to him at the end of the alley, doesn’t give a thought to her own skin as she launches herself into a slide under the attacker’s arm, then pops back up to meet his blade with hers.

“Stay behind me,” she says to Aeran.

“Yep, that was the plan.”

She grits her teeth under the weight of his sword, trying not to shy away from the stench of the man before her. He lifts his sword and brings it down again. She only just keeps the edge from her shoulder, but the echoing clink of the metal means her sword probably has a chip in it now.

“That. Is. An. Antique.” Effie growls. She pushes back until she can kick out and lands a shot right between his legs.

He stumbles back with a groan and, finally, Aeran manages to land an arrow through his eye. They look at each other, breathing heavily through growing smiles of relief.

“Thank you,” he pants.

Effie nods. “You alright? You don’t usually need that much assistance.”

Aeran blushes and rubs at the back of his neck even as he winces. “Distracted, I guess.”

What could possibly distract him enough to result in this? Effie shakes her head and steps closer. “Sit. We need to patch that up.”

“Eff, I can’t strip in the street.”

“You can and you will. No one's letting two wayfarers wearing fresh blood into their establishment. We're on the edge of Arathia, be serious." She nods toward a corner of the alley hidden by a few crates. "Come on, over here.”

Aeran follows with grumpy, reluctant steps and shimmies out of his trousers. He sits on the dust-covered stone with a huff.

“Be quick about it.”

The wound isn’t as deep as Effie thought, but it will still require a few stitches. She digs in one of their packs for the supplies. Aeran doesn’t flinch at the sight of the needle, or the sting of the water she pours over sliced skin.

“Alright?” she asks, threading the needle.

He nods, his gaze bouncing down to her hands, back to her eyes, and, inexplicably, to her lips. Not a chance, Eff, she chides herself, you’re imagining things.

“Don’t watch,” she warns and waits for him to look somewhere other than his leg. Or her face for that matter.

Now he flinches, hissing out a string of curses, but it doesn’t take long until the wound is closed. She smooths on a salve and tears off a piece of her cloak to wrap around his leg.

“There.” She smiles. “Good as… well, not new but you’ll live.”

Aeran chuckles as he stands. “I’d say ‘thank you,’ but the stitches hurt more than the cut. Are you sure we’re friends?”

Effie's face burns. Friends and nothing more. She turns to give him her brightest smile though her voice drips sarcasm. “What's that saying about friends and enemies? Guess you’ll have to decide how close you want me.”

Aeran looks over her face again, more serious than before, before brushing past her and down the street. “Still thinking that one over.”

It takes a moment before Effie can shake off the shock and follow him out of the alley. She’s left wondering how much of this is her imagination after all.

[therealcaptainstriker]

Today, I wanted to discuss something important. My entertainment company. You see, me and my significant other started a company with two good friends. One runs the Social Media and the other is currently on the side lines. Still, I appriciate that they still wish to help regardless.

Why am I bringing this up? Well, my better half, J, is a writter along side me. With a Wattpad and a Lulu, for her freelance book writing. I'll link them at the bottom for everyone to check out.

Anyway, Multi-Strike is an attempt at an Entertainment company, though for now it remains a group of people workong together without pay. Our main area is YouTube with Captain Striker, Critical Converse, and two more soon to come out of the works.

Then we got Wattpad. Me, J, and Noell all have one. We have original works and fan fictions on there. Lastly, all out Social Media. Multi-Strike has their Social Media, but so do I and J does too. J also has one specific for her novel, Project Arathia.