#as a means for survival and perhaps of replication even

[reginrokkr]

𝐂𝐋𝐗𝐕𝐈. This is a topic I've been wanting to address ever since I finished the Chenyu Vale questline, but never knew what to make of it due to the fact that it was novel... in a way. Before diving in, I want to preface that this will be surrounding the premise: What does pure blood Khaenri'ahn special? So if you see me digressing until I reach to that point, do bear with me. I will.

Something that caught my attention first is the few nods we get throughout the questline as we advance that there were other creatures there before gods came to Liyue, creatures grander or less grander that would be called Adepti which, in essence, is just a title and not something that one is born as. This isn't anything groundbreaking as it is obvious that dragons and their brethren existed before Phanes' arrival to Teyvat, but it was a curious indicator to me nonetheless that other kinds of creatures existed alongside them, pure elemental beings that have other shapes that aren't limited to dragons (Nahida's second quest comes in handy here, a reminder that the form a being takes doesn't matter, what does matter is their essence, their spirit). But to this there is an additional layer when Fujin argues that humans, creatures artificially created by Phanes to dwell Teyvat, have an innocence not so dissimilar from that which these creatures that existed before have.

To put a small parenthesis before continuing, I want to point out that Lingyuan mentions four reasons that the actions of any living creature follow: natural principles, logic, emotions or anyone's orders. And so she poses a question to the traveler and the traveler asks another question in a one for one deal: Those that come from nature will, for some reason, go against nature— against the laws nature originally followed. Will humans also go against humanity, against the principles they initially followed, for certain reasons?

If human activities are part of the laws of nature... How would you [Lingyuan] view humanity?

The answer she provides to this question is precisely what I want to bring to attention: Humans were part of nature in the distant past, but they aren't any longer. This whole questline explained more in depth about the Archon War, about the times that used to be like back then down to the human behavior and coexistence with nature and its creatures. We know at this point that the Archon War took place after the Apocalypse and that it became a turning point in several aspects hard to miss at a worldly level.

As another parenthesis, we know of the existence of the primordial sea from which all life came in a natural manner, that used to be on the surface before the world was altered (possibly when Phanes and the four shining shades won the war against the dragon sovereigns for the first time, as a result of the Apocalypse or both) and that the energy it contains isn't just hydro (raw or broken down to make it simpler, as it was stated in the event that took place in Enkanomiya that elements exist in simpler and more complex forms), but (an)other kind of energy(ies). Neuvillette, as a dragon sovereign and a creature that resides in the realm of light has an affinity for light, but it is interesting to think that upon reclaiming his authority, both pneuma and ousia coexist within him without posing any danger to his health even if there have been various instances in which these elements were described as independent elements but mutually virulent if they interact. Which begs the question: Could it be that within the primordial sea there is ousia energy too? Even better yet: is it possible that there was a time when what we know as the Abyss wasn't toxic to anything of Teyvat, but eventually something turned it so?

On the topic of humans specifically, it was Phanes who created them, but we also know because of Neuvillette that, unless what he did is limited to Oceanids, it is also possible to alter their inner constitution significantly as they live without going through the process of birth and have the resulting humans with the change that was done, following the same principle Phanes did to create humans. To go back to Lingyuan's words that humans used to be part of nature but they aren't anymore, what makes me wonder is if during or after the Apocalypse humans in general underwent a significant change in their constitution that those who later on would come to be pure blood Khaenri'ahns didn't. As for what this change could be, I think it might be related to the elemental energy.

Because we learn from Dottore's study documents of the Eleazar (highly likely tied with abyssal energy) that humans possess elemental levels of energy innately. And he also discovered that the higher these levels are, the more dangerous and aggressive the effects of Eleazar are on said individuals. This could be a result of the abyssal energy consuming elemental energy, and how dangerous it can be of pure elemental energies even from the light realm as vishaps and dragons are. The reason why I think this could be a plausible reason to determine the purity of a Khaenri'ahns blood or lack of thereof is that in the beginning, perhaps these humans were created in a way that they have at least a higher tolerance to the abyssal energy which, as I mentioned earlier, could've been an actual part of Teyvat before and as we currently know it is star-devouring. While I have no doubt that human life was possible in Khaenri'ah due to the studies they must've made of the abyss alongside medicine, fauna and flora there was incompatible with life— so there is a possibility that humans struggled with sicknesses akin to Eleazar unless there is a tolerance that either reduces this vulnerability or erases it completely.

[felikatze]

ISAT and Ludonarrative Harmony: Combat is a Storytelling Tool

Or: How Siffrin is stuck in the endgame grind, forever

Please Note: This is primarily aimed at an audience that already played In Stars and Time, because I am bad at explaining things, and it's good to already know what the fuck I'm talking about. I tend to only bring up game elements as I want to talk about them.

Spoilers for.... all of ISAT! Especially Act 5!

(image to show how i feel posting this and as an attention grabber over my wall of text)

To pull a definition of ludonarrative harmony out of a hat, game writer Lauryn Ash defines it as follows:

Ludonarrative harmony is when gameplay and story work together to create a meaningful and immersive experience. From a design implementation perspective, it is the synchronized interactions between in-game actions (mechanics) and in-world context (story).

It is, generally speaking, how well game mechanics work hand in hand with the story. I, personally, think ISAT is an absolute masterclass of it, so I want to take a look at how ISAT specifically uses its battle system to emphasize Siffrin's character arc and create organic story moments. I want you to keep this in mind when I talk here.

So, skills, right? If you've played any turn-based RPG, you know your Fire spells, your "BACKSLASH! AIRSLASH! BACKSLASH!" and the many ways to style those.

Well, what does casting "Fire" say about your character? Not all that much, does it? Perhaps you'll have typical divisions. The smart one is the mage, the big brawny one is your tank, the petite one's the healer. And that's the barebones of ISAT's main party, but it's much more than that.

Every character's style of combat tells you something about them. Odile, the Researcher, is the most well-travelled and knowledgable of the bunch. She's the one with the expertise to keep a cool head and analyze the enemy, yet also able to use all three of the Rock-Paper-Scissors craft types.

To reflect her analytical view of things, all her skill names are just descriptive, the closest to your most bog-standard RPG. "Slow IV" or "Paper III" serve well to describe their purpose. The high number of the skills gives the impression there were three other Slow skills beforehand - fitting, considering the party starts at level 45, about to head into the final dungeon. She's also the oldest, so she's the slowest of the bunch.

Isabea, the Fighter, has all his skills in exclamation points. "YOUR TURN!!!" "SO WEAK!!!" "SMASH!!!" they're straightforward, but excited. He's a purposefully cheerfull guy, so his skills revolve around cheering on his allies. He's absolutely pumped to be here, and you see that from his skill names alone.

Mirabelle, the Housemaiden, is an interesting case. She's by all means the true protagonist of this tale - She's the one "Chosen by the Change God," the only one who survived the King's first attack, the only one immune to his ability to freeze time, the only dual-craft type of the game - just a lot of things. And her skill names reflect that facade she puts on herself - she can do this, she can win! She has to believe it, or else she starts doubting. This is how you get "Jolly Round Rondo" and "Mega Sparkle Heal" or "Adorable Moving Cure." She's styled every bit a sailor scout shojo heroine, and her moveset replicates the naming conventions of "In the name of the moon, I'll punish you!"

Even Bonnie, the Kid, who can't be controlled in combat, has named craft skills. And they very much reflect that Bonnie is, well, a kid. "Wolf Speed Technique" or "Thousand Blows Technique" are very much the phrasings of a child who learned one complicated word and now wants to use it in everything to seem cooler than they are, which is none, because they're twelve.

Siffrin's skills are all puns.

You have an IMMEDIATE feel for personality here. Between "Knife to Meet You!" and "Too Cleaver by Half," you know Siffrin's the type to always crack a joke no matter the situation, slinging witticisms around to put Sonic the Hedgehog to shame. It's just such a clever way to establish character using a game mechanic as old as the entire history of RPGs.

This is only the baseline of the way the combat system feeds into the story, though.

The timeloop, of course, feeds into it. Siffrin is the only character who retains experience upon looping, whereas all other characters are reset to their base level and skills. And it sucks (affectionate).

You're extremely likely to battle more often the earlier in the game you are - after all, you need the experience (for now.) Every party member contributes, and Siffrin isn't all that strong on their own, since they focus on raw scissor type damage with the addition of one speed buff. (Of course it's a speed buff. They're a speedy fucker. Just look at him).

At first, the difference in level between Siffrin and the rest of the group is rather negligible. Just a level or two. Just a bit more speed and attack. And then Siffrin grows further and further apart. Siffrin keeps learning new skills. He gets a healing skill that doubles as an attack boost, taking away from both Mirabelle's and Isabeau's usefullness. He gets Craft skills of every type that even give you two jackpot points instead of one - thus obliterating Odile's niche. Siffrin turns into a one-person army capable of clearing most encounters all on their own.

Siffrin's combat progression is an exact mirror of story progression - as their experience inside the loops grows, they also grow further and further away from their party. The party seems... weaker, slower, clumsier. Always back at their starting point, just as all of their character arcs are reset each loop. Never advancing, always stagnant. And you have Siffrin as the comparison post right next to them.

I also want to point out here a change from Act 2 to Act 3 - Siffrin's battle portrait. He stops smiling.

Battles keep getting easier. This is true both for the reason that Siffrin keeps growing stronger even when all enemies stay the same, but also for the reason that you, the player, learn more about the battle system and the various encounters, until you've learned perfect boss clear strategies just from repetition. Have you ever watched a speedrunner play Pokemon? They've played this game so many times, they could do it blindfolded and sleeping. Your own knowledge and Siffrin's new strength work in tandem to trivialize the game's entire combat system as the game progresses.

(Is it still fun? Playing it over, and over, and over again? Is it?)

You and Siffrin are in sync, your experience making everything trivial.

As time goes on, Siffrin grows to care less and less about performing right for their party and more and more about going fast. A huge moment in his character is marked by the end of Act 3; because of story events I won't delve too deeply into, Siffrin has grown afraid of trying something new. And his options of escape are closing in. They need an answer, and they need it fast. He doesn't have the time or patience to dumb himself down, so you unlock one new skill.

It doesn't occur with level up, or with a quest, or anything at all. At the start of Act 4, it simply appears in Siffrin's Craft skills.

(Just attack.)

No pun. No joke. Just attack. Once you notice, the effect is immediate - here you have it, a clear sign of how jaded Siffrin has become, right at every encounter. And it's a damn good attack, too! The only available attack in the game that deals "massive" damage against all enemies. Because it doesn't add any jackpot points (at least, it's not supposed to), you set up a combo with everybody else, but Siffrin simply tears away at the enemy with wild abandon. Seperated from the rest of the party by the virtue of no longer needing to contribute to team attacks (most of the time. It's still useful if they do, though).

Once again, an aspect of the battle system enhances the degree of separation between Siffrin and the static characters of his play. You're incentivized to separate him, even.

Additionally, there are two more skills to learn. They're the only skills that replace previous skills. You only get them at extremely high levels, the latter of which I didn't even reach on both of my playthroughs.

The first, somewhere in the level 70 range, Rose Printed Glasses, a paper type craft skill, is replaced by Tear You Apart. It's still a pun about paper, but remarkedly more vicious.

The second is even more on the nose. At level 80, In A While, Rockodile!, a rock type craft skill, is replaced by the more powerful Rock Bottom.

I didn't get to level 80. If you do, you pretty much have to do it on purpose. You have to keep going much longer than necessary, as Siffrin is just done. And the last skill he learns is literally called Rock Bottom.

What do I even need to say, really.

Your party doesn't stay static forever, though.

By doing their hangout quests, side quests throughout the loops that result in Siffrin and the character having a heart to heart, all of them unlock what I'd call an "ultimate" skill. You know the type - the character achieved self-fulfillment, hit rank 10 on their confidant, maxed out their skill tree, and received a reward for their trouble.

These skills are massively useful. My favorite is Odile's - it makes one enemy weak to all Craft types for several turns, which basically allows you to invalidate the first and third boss, as well as just clown on the King, especially once Siffrin starts racking up damage.

But the thing is. In Act 3, when you first get them, yeah, they're useful. But... do you need them? After all, they're such a hassle to get. You need to do the whole character quest again, you can't loop forward in the House or you'll lose them. If you want to take these skills to the King, you need to commit. Go the full nine-yards and be nice to your friends and not die and not skip forward or skip back. Which is annoying, right?

Well, I sure did think so during Act 4. After all, a base level party can still defeat the King, just with a few more tricky pieces involved. Siffrin can oneshot almost all basic enemies by the time of Act 4. It's this exact evalutation that you, the player, go through everytime you return to Dormont. Do I want this skill, still? Would it not be faster to go on without it? I'm repeating myself, but that's the thing! That's what Siffrin is thinking, too!

I also want to take a quick moment to note, here - all skills gained from hangouts have art associated with them, which no other skills do. This feature, the nifty art, hammers home these as "special" skills, besides just how they're unlocked.

Siffrin also has one skill with associated art.

Yeah, you guessed it, it's (Just attack.)

At first, helping the characters is tied to a hefty in-game reward, but that reward loses its value, and in return devalues helping Siffrin's friends every loop. It's too tedious for a skill that'll make a boss go by one turn faster. You, the player, grow jaded with the battle system. Grinding experience isn't worth it, everybody's highest levels are already recorded. Fighting bosses isn't worth it, it's much faster to loop forward.

Isn't this what all endgame in video games looks like? You already beat the final boss, and now... what challenge is left? Is there a point to keep playing? Most games will have some post-game content. A superboss to test your skills against, but ISAT doesn't have any of that. You're forever left chasing to the post-game. That's the whole point - to escape the game.

As most games get more difficult as time passes, ISAT only gets easier. The game becomes disinterested in expanding its own mechanics just as I ran out of new things to fight after 100%-ing Kingdom Hearts 3. Every encounter becomes a simple game of "press button to win."

The final boss just takes that one up a notch.

Spoilers for Act 5 ahead boys!

In Act 5, Siffrin utterly loses it. His last possible hope for escape failed him, told him there's nothing she can do, and Siffrin is trapped for eternity. So of course, they go insane and run up the entire House without their party.

This just proves what you already knew - you dont need the party to proceed. Siffrin alone is strong enough. And here, Siffrin has entirely shed the facade of the jokester they used to be. Every single skill now follows the (Just attack.) naming conventions. Your skills are: (Paper.) (Rock.) (Scissors.) (Breathe.)

To the point. Not a moment wasted, because Siffrin can't take a moment longer of any of this. Additionally, his level is set to 99 and his equipment becomes fixed. You can't even pick up items anymore! Not that you needed them at this point anyway, right? Honestly, I never used any items besides the Salty Broth since Act 2, so I stopped picking items up a long time ago. Now you just literally can't.

Something I've not talked about until now - one of the main equipment types in this game are Memories, gained for completing subquests or specific interactions and events. They all by and large have little effects - make Odile's tonics heal more, or have Mirabelle cast a shield at the start of combat. For the hangout events, you also gain an associated memory that boosts the characters' stats by 30. It lets them keep up with Siffrin again! A fresh wind! Finally, your party members feel on par with you again!

...For a time. And just like that, they're irrelevant again, just as helping them gave Siffrin a brief moment of hope that the power of friendship could fix everything.

In Act 5, your memory is set to "Memory of Emptiness." It allows you to loop back in the middle of combat. You literally can't die anymore. Not that Siffrin could've died by this point in the first place, unless you forgot about the King's instant-kill attack. This one memory takes away the false pretense that combat ever had any stakes. Siffrin's level being set to 99 means even the scant exp you get is completely wasted on them. All stakes and benefits from combat have been removed. It has become utterly pointless.

Frustrating, right? It's an artistic frustration, though. It traps you right here in Siffrin's shoes, because he hates that all these blinding Sadnesses are still walking around just as much. It all inspires just a tiny fraction of that deep rolling anger Siffrin experiences here in the player.

And listen, it was cathartic, that one time Siffrin snapped and stabbed the tutorial Sadness, wasn't it? Because who enjoys sitting through the tutorial that often? Siffrin doesn't. I don't, either.

So, since combat is an useless obstacle now meant to inspire frustration, what do you do for a boss? You can't well make it a gameplay challenge now, no. The bosses of Act 5 are an emotional challenge: a painful wait.

First, Siffrin fights the King, alone. This is already nervewracking because of one factor - in every other run, you need Mirabelle's shield skill, or else you're scripted to die. You're actually forced to fight the King multiple times in Act 3, and have to do it at least once in Act 4, though you'll likely do it more. Point is: you know how this fight works.

You know Siffrin's fight is doomed from the outset, but all you can do is keep slinging attacks. Siffrin is enough of a powerhouse to take the King's HP down, what with the healing and buff skills they have now, not to even mention you can just go all in on damage and then loop back.

(And no matter which way you play it, whether you just loop or use strategically, it reflects on Siffrin, too. Has he grown callous enough not even death will stop their mission? Or does he still avoid pain, as much as he can?)

This fight still allows you the artifice of even that much choice, not that it matters. The other shoe drops eventually - Siffrin becomes slower, and slower. Unsettling, considering this game works on an Action Gauge system. You barely get turns anymore. The screen gets darker, and darker. Until Siffrin is frozen in time, just as you knew he had to be, because you know how this encounter works, know it can't be cleared without Mirabelle.

And, then, a void.

Siffrin awakens to nothingness. The only way to tell you've hit a wall is if Siffrin has no walking animation to match your button inputs. You walk, and walk, until you're approached by.... you. The next enemy encounter of the game, and Siffrin's absolute lowest point: Mal Du Pays.

Or, "Homesickness," in english. If you know the game, you know why it's named this, but that's not the point at the moment.

Thing is, where you could damage the King and are damaged in turn, giving you at least a proper combat experience, even if its doomed to fail, Mal Du Pays has no such thing.

You can attack. You can defend. But it is immune to all attacks. And in return, it does nothing. It's common, at least, for undefeatable enemies to be a "survive" challenge, but nope. The entire fight is "press button and wait." Except, remember the previous fight against the King? The entire time, you were waiting for the big instant death attack to drop. That feeling, at least for me, carried forward. I was incredibly on edge just waiting for the other shoe to drop. And, as is a pattern, Siffrin is, too. As Siffrin's attacks fail to connect, they start talking to Mal Du Pays.

But he gets no response, as you get no attacks to strategize around. The wait for anything to happen is utterly agonizing. You and Siffrin are both waiting for something to happen. This isn't a fight. It just pretends to be. It's an utter rugpull, because Siffrin was so undefeatable for most of Act 4 and all of Act 5 so far. It's kind of terrifying!

and it does. It finally does something. Ma Du Pays speaks, in the voice of Siffrin's friends, listing out their deepest fears. I think it's honestly fantastic. You're forced to just sit here and listen to Siffrin's deepest doubts, things you know the characters could not say because it references the timeloops they're all utterly unaware of. This is all Siffrin, talking to himself. And all you, all Siffrin, can do, is keep wailing away on the enemy to no effect whatsoever.

So of course this ends with Siffrin giving up. What else can you do?

And then Siffrin's friends show up and unfreeze them and it's all very cool yay. The pure narrative scenes aren't really the main focus but I want to point out here:

A) Mirabelle is in the first party slot here, referencing how she's the de facto protagonist, and Bonnie fills in the fourth slot left empty, which shows all characters uniting to save Siffrin

B) this is the only instance of the other party members having act specific battle icons: they're all smiling brightly, further pushed by the upbeat music

C) the reflecting shield Mirabelle uses to freeze the King uses a variation of her hangout skill cut in, marking it as her true "final" skill and giving the whole fight a more climatic feeling.

It's also a short gameplay sequence with Siffrin utterly uninvolved in the battle. You can't even see them onscreen. But... it feels warm, doesn't it? Everybody coming together. Siffrin doesn't have to fight anymore.

At last, the King is defeated. Siffrin and co. make for the Head Housemaiden, to have her look at Siffrin's sudden illness. Siffrin is utterly exhausted, famished, running a fever. And this isn't unexpected - after all, their skills in Act 5 had no cooldown. For context, instead of featuring any sort of MP system, all skills work on a cooldown basis, where a character can't use it for a certain number of turns. The lowest cooldown is actually Siffrin's Knife to Meet You, which has a cooldown of 1. In universe, this is reasoned as the characters needing a break from spamming craft in order to not exhaust themselves.

Siffrin's skills in Act 5 having no cooldown/being infinitely spammable isn't a sign of their strength - it's a sign that he refuses to let himself rest in order to rush through as fast as possible.

Moving on, Siffrin panics when seeing the Head Housemaiden, because seeing her means one thing: the end. Prior to this in the game, every single time you beat the King, the loop ends when you talk to the Head Housemaiden.

Reality breaks down, the whole shebang. It's here that Siffrin realizes - they don't want the loops to end, because the end of their journey means their family will leave, and he'll be alone again. The happiest time of his life will be over.

Siffrin goes totally ballistic, to say the least.

As it turns out (and was heavily foreshadowed narratively), Siffrin has been using Wish Craft to subconciously cause the timeloop because of their abandonment issues. It's rather predictable if you paid attention to literally anything, but it's extremely notable how heavily Siffrin is paralleled to the King, the antagonist they swore to kill by themself at the start of Act 5. The King wants to freeze Vaugarde in time because it is, in his mind, "perfect," for accepting him after he lost his home - a backstory he shares with Siffrin.

Siffrin has become the exact antagonist he swore to kill, and it's shown by how the next fight utterly flips everything on its head.

Siffrin is the final boss.

In a towering form made of stars, Siffrin looks down at their friends. His face is terrified, because of his internal conflict; he can't hurt his friends, but he can't let them go, either. The combat prompt is simply changed to "END IT!"

This fight is similar to the previous, in that you just need to wait a certain number of turns until its over. However, this time, it's not dreadful suspense. It's... confusion, and hesitance.

You have two options for combat: Attack your friends, or attack yourself.

And... you don't really want to do either, I think. I certainly don't. But what else can you do? It's Siffrin's desires clashing in full force. Attack your friends, and force them to stay? Or attack yourself, and let them go safely without you?

Worth noting, here - when you attack Siffrin's friends, you can't harm them. Isabeau will shield all attacks. And when you attack yourself, Mirabelle will heal you back to full. And the friends don't... do anything, either. How could they? Occasionally, Mirabelle heals you and Isabeau shouts words of motivation, but the main thing is...

(Your friends don't know what to do.)

None of them want to harm Siffrin. Both sides simply stare at each other, resolute in their conviction but unwilling to end it with violence. It's of note that this loop, the last one, is the only loop where the King isn't killed. Just frozen. And now here is Siffrin, clamoring for the same eternity the King was. Of course everything ends in a tearfilled conversation as Siffrin sees their friends won't leave him, even after the journey ends, but I still have to appreciate this moment.

Siffrin is directly put in the position with their friends as his enemies, forced to physically reckon that keeping them in this loop is an act of violence, against both their friends, and against himself.

It's a happy ending. But... what does it mean?

Of course, ISAT is obviously about the fear of change. Siffrin is afraid of the journey ending, and of being alone. However, ISAT is also a game about games. Siffrin is playing the same game, over and over, because it's comforting. It's familiar. It's nice, to know exactly what happens next. These characters might just be predictable lines of dialogue, but... they feel like friends. Have you ever played a game, loved it, put countless hours into it, but you never finished it? Because you just couldn't bear to see it end? For the characters to leave your life, for there to be a void in your heart where the game used to be?

After all, maybe it became part of your routine! You play the game every day, slowly chipping away at it for weeks at a time. For me, I beat ISAT in four days. It utterly consumed me during this time. I had 36 hours of playtime by the end. Yeah, in that week, I did not do much more than play ISAT.

And once i beat it, i beat it, again. I restarted the game to see the few scenes I missed, most specifically the secret boss I won't talk about here. I... couldn't let go of the game yet. I wanted to see every scrap I could. I still do. I'm writing this, in part because I still do. It's scary to let go.

Ever heard the joke term of "Postgame Depression?" It's when you just beat a game, and you're suddenly sad. Maybe because the ending affected you emotionally and you need to process the feelings it invoked, or you search for something that can now fill your time with it gone.

The game ends, for real this time, the last time you talk to the Head Housemaiden. But Siffrin gets... scared. What if everything loops back again? And so, his family offers to hold his hand. They face the end, together.

For all loops, including the ending, you never see what happens after. After they leave the loop for good. Because the loop is the game itself. It's asking you to trust that life goes on for these characters, and it holds your hand as it asks you to let go. There's a reason for Siffrin's theater metaphors. He is the actor, and the director, asking everyone to do it over one more time. He's a character within the game, and its player.

There's a reason I talked about endgame content. This, the way it all repeats, there's nothing new, difficulty and stakes bleed away as you snap the game over your knee - it's my copy of White 2 with two hundred hours in it. It's me playing Fire Emblem Awakening in under 3 hours while skipping every cutscene. Are you playing for the sake of play, for the sake of indulging in your memories, because you're afraid of the hole it'll leave when you stop?

Of note: the narrative never condemns Siffrin for unwittingly causing their own suffering. He's a victim of circumstance. It's seen as endearing, even, that Siffrin loves their friends to the point of rather seeing the world destroyed than them gone. But Siffrin is also told: we'll stay with you for now, but we'll part ways eventually. And one day, you'll have to be okay with it.

Stop draining the things you love of every ounce of enjoyment just because you're afraid of what happens next. I'm not saying to never play your favorite games again. Playing ISAT a second time, I still had a lot of fun! I saw so many new things I didn't before, and I enjoyed myself immensely, reading the same dialogue over and over. But... it makes me look at other games I love and still play, and makes me ask... is this still fun? Do I still need to play this game to enjoy it? Even writing this is an afterimage of my enjoyment, but it's a new way to interact with the game, to analyze it through this lens. Fuck, man, I write fanfiction. Look at me.

All of this, fanart, fanfic, analysis, is a way to prolong that enjoyment without making yourself suffer for it. Without just going through the motions of enjoyment without actually experiencing any. But one day, the thing you love won't be fun to talk and write and draw about. And it's okay. You'll have new things to love. I promise.

In the end.... I'm certain I'll replay ISAT one day. Between great writing, art, puzzles and unresolved mysteries, it's my shoe-in for game of the year.

But I won't replay it for quite some time. I've had enough, for now, so I let my love take other forms.

Siffrin is never condemned, because love is no evil. Be it love for another person, or for a game. And please, if you're overempathetic - it's still a game, at the end of the day. The great thing about games is that you can always boot them up again, no matter how long its been.

A circle within a circle indeed.

To summarize:

The repetitiveness of ISAT's combat, lack of new enemies, and Siffrin's ever increasing strength eventually allows you to snap the combat over your knee, rendering it irrelevant and boring. Though this may seem counterproductive at first, it perfectly mirrors how Siffrin has also grown bored with these repeated encounters and views them only as an obstacle to get past. The reflection of Siffrin's own tiredness with the player's annoyance increases the compassion the player has for Siffrin as a character.

Additionally, the endgame state of the combat system serves as commentary on the state of a favorite game played too often, much like how Siffrin has unwittingly trapped themself in the loop. Despite the game having no more challenge or content left to over, a player might return to their favorite game anyway, solely to try and recreate the early experience of actually having fun with it. This ties into ISAT's metanarrative about the fear of change and refusal to let go of comfort even when the object (here, your favorite video game) offering that comfort has become utterly bereft of any substance to actually engage with. Playing for the sake of playing, with no actual investment to keep going besides your own memories.

Later on, stripping away even the pretense of strategy for a "press button and wait" format of final bosses highlights the lack of options at Siffrin's disposal and truly forces the player into their shoes. Truly, the only way to win is to stop playing.

[merakiui]

ALIEN SCARAMOUCHE WITH OVIPOSITION MERA ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME 😭 I need more, what would he look like, what are his motivations... Omg... Maybe some kidnapping going on...some experiments on humans...him studying how humans reproduce and if his race can use them... Aaaa my mind is going crazy with ideas, please do share yours too! <3

What if he doesn’t have a form of his own (something that sort of ties into canon Scaramouche’s obsession with wanting a heart and a purpose)? And maybe he’s more like a shadowy mass that can take the form of anything so long as he’s encountered said thing (i.e. made contact with it? Or maybe he has to kill the original in order to take its form? Or it’s something like a reflection where if you happen to look at him long enough he’ll have a good enough idea of how to replicate your form from staring and analyzing it.) and since he’s so dedicated to having a form that really fits, that truly feels like him, he’s continued to adapt and evolve as the years pass throughout every planet in the solar system.

Perhaps he does have a few features of his own, but maybe they’re sort of scattered?? Or they aren’t really features his species is known to have? He’s like a mixture of various things he’s observed over the time he’s spent on your planet in an effort to shape himself into something beyond the formless shadow he’s lived as for so long. Like a patchwork copycat composed of so many different parts because he’s desperately trying to understand all of these things. It’s like his version of trying on clothes and new fashion styles. So maybe he has horns or maybe cat ears because he’s seen so many stray cats and they’ve always fascinated him for some unexplainable reason (maybe in order to have these features he’s had to ingest part of the living thing he wants to replicate??? Just something a little extra horrifying for our beloved alien mouchey. <3) And maybe the only thing he has from the one who created him (Ei) is the same piercing stare in a pair of brilliantly colored eyes she graciously bestowed upon him.

Maybe Scaramouche can’t understand human emotion in the usual sense that other humans might, so he assigns flavors to these unusual feelings. When he hurts the things he likes or is interested in (cats, the human he stole his current appearance from (i.e. Kabukimono; let’s pretend they’re two separate individuals hehe), and even other gentle things or creatures who are completely innocent), the taste in his mouth is sour or bitter or so very intolerable. I think over time he hardens himself and learns to live with the foul flavors he often encounters when he attempts to blend in with humans and utterly fails because he can never replicate their emotions as well as he can copy behaviors or appearances. He starts his journey so curious and sweetly innocent, albeit murderous and eerie, and he tries so hard to learn and be good and explore the world with the eyes his mother gifted him and yet he always finds himself hurting. He hates it. It tastes terrible. It feels terrible, and he has never truly felt before. This is new.

When Scaramouche is captured by Dottore, a human scientist who is a little too dedicated to the pursuit of forbidden knowledge, he finally tastes the cruelty of humankind—learns of the lengths they’ll go to in the name of scientific breakthroughs. The researchers run dozens of tests on him. He can’t feel external or internal pain from wounds or injuries; he’s sturdy, birthed from a substance foreign to humans, intended to survive the harshest conditions. But Scaramouche feels pain—the emotional kind. He’s never felt fear; he’s what humans would call an apex predator. He’s strong. He’s never needed to feel fear, and so he doesn’t fear the unknown. He isn’t scared of the sharp tools, of the peculiar creatures he’s shown in hopes that he might replicate them and their features, nor does he fear the trajectory of this new life. The concept of ethical practices means nothing to him even though he’s aware he’s a lab rat, a grotesque curiosity that doctors poke and prod at. He reacts to everything in unique, defensive ways. He impaled a doctor through the throat with a strange shadowy spike. It moved as though it were liquid, yet it struck very solidly, sharply, deadly efficient. Dottore likens its movements and behaviors to that of an octopus’s tentacle; Scaramouche is unsure of this comparison. This is merely a shadow of something he has observed—a reflection. A cheap copy. He has never been original.

You’re the first human he meets who isn’t adorned in sterile white. No lab coat, no gloves, no goggles, no protective gear. Just clothes. Normal clothes. The both of you are separated by indestructible glass, placed in two very white rooms, and you can see one another so clearly. Scaramouche hates the purity of white because he knows that when he’s forced into a white backdrop he’s meant to stain it red. And lately he doesn’t want to break things that are undeserving of it. Perhaps he’s feeling too much. Perhaps he ought to tear these human feelings out and go back to the blank, shadowy slate he once was. How he intends to accomplish that, he has no idea.

He’s uninterested in you at first. You’re a human. He’s seen humans. He interacts with them daily. He’s killed plenty. But you spend nights in that white room and he watches you sleep. He tries to sleep in the same way you do; he has no need for sleep. He regulates his energy differently. He tries to breathe like you. He blinks at the same times you blink—or he comes awfully close. He tries to copy your movements and mannerisms. One night he presses himself to the glass and takes your form and watches you, counting every rise and fall of your chest as you lie so comfortably on the very uncomfortable cot. With hands that mirror yours, he pokes at these human features. He fits one hand in the other and pretends he’s holding your actual hand. There is no warmth, though. Humans are warm; Scaramouche is not. He’s frigid. His home planet is gloomy and cold and desolate. He thinks humans are lucky for cyclical days—for being in close proximity to the sun. There is no sunshine where he hails from. He likes the way the sun feels on him. It used to burn terribly when he first arrived on this planet. Now it’s like a hug—a hug that still singes, but a hug nonetheless. He’s never known what a hug is, but he thinks this is what it must feel like—like the burning warmth of a sun.

Scaramouche feels true, raw, animalistic, paralyzing fear when you’re taken out of the room after two weeks and replaced with a new human. You’re gone. Replaced. Are you dead? Did he kill you? Did he stare too long? He’s distraught, overcome with a horrifying emotion that has him curled and trembling in the corner of his white room (a cage if he’s ever known one). Why aren’t you here? And why is he so…restless? He can’t call it fear because he doesn’t know that word. But oh he’s scared. He’s so scared. You were the first human to smile at him, to put your hand on the glass where his rested, to sit close to the glass and eat meals alongside him. You were like the stray cats he’s interacted with: kind, soft, gentle, sweet. He’s so scared he loses the ability to remain in his human skin, and he practically melts into a shadow, clinging to the corner like glue or slime. He’s empty and alone. It tastes terrible. It feels terrible.

The humans that follow are terrified of him. Either that or they’re disgusted, baffled, cautious. He hates every one of them, so much so that he’s tried to break through the glass numerous times to dispose of them. Weeks pass; he’s forgetting your features. There are no mirrors here, so he must rely on the reflections shown in the glass. Some days he thinks he looks just like you; other days he’s certain he’s a monstrosity—a sloppily stitched version of you. The you he saw did not have pointed fangs or curling horns. He hates his reflection because it isn’t you. Most importantly, he hates that the humans he’s forced to look at are protected by this thick layer of glass. If it wasn’t so indestructible, he’d tear through every human nuisance until he reaches you.

Scaramouche is not sure how many months pass, but you return. And when you do the fear ebbs away. He feels…happy? Is that the right term? He’s pleased to see you, and for the first time in a while he returns to his human appearance—to the one he took from a young man many centuries ago. You’re back. You’re here. He’s so happy. He detaches himself from his corner and he tries to smile in the way you do. And, though it’s awkward and strange and sharp-toothed, you smile right back.

Dottore decides then that you are to be the next subject in this experiment. He’s observed Scaramouche’s reactions to you and compared them to reactions to the other humans and found that you are the best suited to this role. If anything, the alien couldn’t have picked a better specimen to adore. You’re helpless and so naïve. You need the money; it’s why you allowed yourself to live in that room for a few weeks. You were paid handsomely for it. He’ll pay you beyond handsomely if you agree to what’s next. And, really, when you’re in between a predator’s jaws do you really have much of a choice?

Scaramouche needs a human match, and the scientists need to study more than just the social biology of an alien. They promise you he won’t hurt you, and if he does it’s all right. They’re kind enough to respect the wishes of the dead. You must let Dottore know if you’d prefer a burial or a cremation. There’s nothing special in this distinction; it’s just a precautionary measure. You’ll agree to participate in this experiment whether or not you want to.

Your new home is the white room that faces Scaramouche, and after some more time and observations to ensure you won’t be killed the moment you step foot in his space the glass barrier will be lifted. Dottore wonders how Scaramouche’s kind mates and reproduces.

There’s only one way to find out.

[s-b-party]

Tayzzyronth & Oroboros: Aeons of Deadly Sins

****Honkai star rail spoilers/simulated universe spoilers/swarm disaster spoilers****

*The moment Herta described them as being arch enemies, my mind immediately started falling into a rabbit hole trying to analyze them both & some thoughts have been cooking lol

So who are these 2 Aeons? They recently have made more formal appearances (we finally get to see their forms) in the newest hsr patch specifically in simulated universe

Tayzzyronth is the Aeon of Propagation & Oroboros is the Aeon of Voracity; propagation refers to reproduction while voracity is excessive eating

I’d like to suggest that Tayzzyronth & Oroboros are aeons that represent 2 of the 7 deadly sins: lust & gluttony respectfully

*Note: lust can refer to extremely strong sexual desires but without sexual connotations it simply refers to an extremely strong desire/emotion for something you crave*

Tayzzyronth often self-replicated & the heirs they created eventually became their faction, the Swarm

The reason why they started reproducing was bc they feared being alone since they were the last of the Coleoptera (scientific name for beetle) so they had an extremely strong desire to procreate

As for Oroboros, they devour everything that gets in their way since everything including worlds will simply return to the void in the end

Now that we’ve established how they depict lust & gluttony, let’s look at their dynamic

Both are said to have been enemies & it seems that Tayzzyronth died in a war (which involved Oroboros) at the hands of multiple Aeons according to Kafka

What I find interesting is that (like in my analyses of Lan & Yaoshi and Nanook & IX) they have a few similarities

For instance what they do is mindless (all Tayzzyronth & Oroboros can think of/do are self-replicate & consume; I think it’s important to remember that doing mindless tasks doesn’t always equate to intelligence especially when they do it in repetitive cycles; the word mindless usually gets associated w/ low intelligence which Herta implies that Tayzzyronth & the Swarm have)

They may represent different deadly sins but they are different manifestations of greed in essence, all being forms of excessive desires

They also both have similar color palettes where they use cool colors (various shades of purple) which are paired with some reds or blues; to me this is showing that in spite of their differences they do share some similarities/vibes (not evil per se but destructive)

Now to look at their dynamic from a different light, I want to first point to how them being enemies makes sense if we consider what creatures they resemble

Tayzzyronth as we already know is based off insects, the beetle to be more precise, while Oroboros is based off the mythological ouroboros which was usually a tail-devouring serpent; irl snakes & insects are normally enemies & snakes are the ones usually devouring insects although the reverse situation is also possible

Perhaps it is bc both are representative of different aspects of greed that they both would end up being enemies in the end anyway if they are to fight for dominance in this world (going back to the idea of survival of the “fittest”, meaning the stronger concept would prevail in this case)

If that is the case, the end of Tayzzyronth could imply that the desire to devour is stronger than the desire to procreate but I don’t think that’s exactly how it is because there is some irony to be found here

Even though Tayzzyronth has been deceased for some time, the Swarm still remains & they still are a menace to the universe due to the destruction they can cause, all of this while Oroboros doesn’t seem to leave any trace of the worlds they have devoured so I think that even though the Propagation is gone, their concept still has influence in the universe w/ as much “strength”/importance as the voracity

I’m really glad to have seen Tayzzyronth & Oroboros in the swarm disaster mode of simulated universe bc for me it looks like the Aeons have interesting & complex relationships with each other and I can’t seem to get over them 😂 I also like the designs of the aeons

They just have so much in their designs & stories which fascinate me, it’s just really fun chilling in the pool of aeon lore & dynamics :3

[terrence-silver]

Would Terry be a cat person or a dog person?

---

I mean, just aesthetically speaking alone, I can see why everyone widely imagines Terry Silver as a cat person. (Bond villain with a fuzzy, white Angora on his lap, smoothing her thick, elegant fur while he plots World Domination) but on the other hand, it is even more easy to envision him as a dog person purely because he admires the animal's innate natural devotion that tends to override all sense; something few or no people are capable of ever replicating to the degree an animal with animal instincts could, except maybe himself. Yep. Terry Silver knows nobody who has the loyalty of a hound except himself and he both relates to the animal and in odd ways, perhaps, resents the animal, because a dog holds up a mirror to him and says 'This is you.' and the experience of that is visceral, baffling and exposing, seeing as how Terry is genuinely pushing back deadlines, schedules and leaving everything behind as he happily and willingly goes performing extreme (and often ethically questionable) acts of service for those he deems his, but at the same time, the fact that someone as power hungry, ego driven and control oriented as himself enjoys being unscrupulously devoted to select few others to the degree he does is a baffling thing to say the least. It is contradictive. Shouldn't be a thing. Yet it is.

Man probably never owned a dog.

Doesn't intend to. Doesn't want to.

Chances are he cares for cats just as little in the practical sense.

But, he sees a dog snarling, barking, fighting off entire gangs of bigger dogs, following its human wherever it goes, snuggling up to him to keep him warm and dying next to its owner when it could've easily left and minded its own survival, maybe somewhere out on Skid Row or the more run down parts of LA through where Terry has his driver intentionally chauffeur his limousine to flex on the poor when he feels particularly sadistic and meanspirited, only to catch the image of a skinny, malnourished hound starving next to its homeless master out on the pavement; the image of which is something Terry loathes to see, going as far as possibly mocking it to his driver to cover up his true feelings on the matter with a whole lot of judgement and bravado, because fuck sake, he'd do the exact same thing too. The words For everything you need, your whole life, always immediately come to mind and Terry might think that if John Kreese was a sick, abandoned dog dying on the street and there was no chance to ever save him or persuade him to allow himself to be helped, senselessly proud as he is, Terry might go out there and die next to him too. Here he is, having everything in the world and envying a homeless man's loyal, skinny dog.

Terry forces himself not to think about that.

Yet how can he not when it is the foundation of his entire being?

[dailycharacteroption]

Mantella (Druid Archetype)

(art by Hyarion-art on DeviantArt)

As much as we’re all very familiar with physical trauma being the “default” way to damage something, toxins are perhaps just as old when it comes to ways to harm or even kill other living foes. Life is, after all, the product of a complicated series of delicate curated chemical reactions, so it only makes sense to destroy life by disrupting a creature’s ability to continue those chemical reactions.

Toxins are subdivided into poisons, which the creature delivers passively when another creature interacts with them (touching, swallowing, injuring), and venoms, which the creature delivers actively as an attack (bites, stings).

It only makes sense then, with so many toxins being weaponized in nature, that there would be druids using their primal magic to draw upon said poisons, and we’ve had three of those: the toxicologist, which specializes in poisonous spells, making use of real poisons, and shapeshifting into giant vermin (Though only higher level versions get the ability to poison in those forms); second is the urushiol, which sweats poison from their skin like certain frogs and works to refine the poison to become more and more deadly; and third is today’s subject, the mantella!

The lore of the matella archetype suggests that it was invented by grippli to improve or replicate the poisons possessed by some of their kind, but the archetype doesn’t actually interact directly with the toxic skin racial trait, meaning that in theory anyone can take it.

What sets the mantella apart is that they seem in some ways to honor the creatures that specifically use venom or poison, which is true of the former two true, but while the toxicologist uses toxins in all forms they take (plus transforming only into vermin), and the urushiol generates it’s own poison, the mantella focuses on wild shaping to recreate venomous creatures as well as delivering their own venoms through their own natural attacks, as we’ll see.

Or maybe you just want a poisonous druid that doesn’t give up nature bond or a bunch of the druid’s passive abilities.

Either way, we’ll soon see what the mantella is all about.

The mantella’s primary difference is how they handle wild shape. Namely, while they cannot take elemental forms, they always gain the ability to replicate the poison of their plant or animal forms. This means that their animals forms prior to early mid-levels can be venomous, allowing them to get poisoning much sooner than other druids.

Their other ability allows them to take a dose of poison they’ve been inflicted with and store it in their bodies, secreting it again through the natural weapons they either normally possess or gain later either through wild shape or some spell. This consequently also makes then and any animal companion they have immune to poison as well, making for a nasty surprise when a foe’s own venom (or that of their allies or other monstrous neighbors) is suddenly used against them.

This archetype is much simpler than other poison-themed archetypes for the druid class, but that’s part of it’s charm, offering accelerated poisoning in the early levels when poison is at it’s most effective and a fun reversal effect later on. This can be especially fun for a druid that moonlights as a magical assassin, or one that just enjoys focusing on debuffing foes.

Since toxins are such a common adaptation in the natural world, it’s likely many druids, and especially mantellas, find the idea of poison being “dishonorable” or “evil” to be patently absurd. Even the most painful and unpleasant venoms exist purely to ensure the survival of the creature that wields it, and poisonous animals and plants ensure the survival of their species by either killing the one that eats them (or at least giving them a very strong Pavlovian aversion to eating another one).

Taking an ambitious bite of a plant, falling on an ant nest, reaching into a viper’s den… Baju the Rougarou has an intimate history with poison, but despite this, it hasn’t deterred him. Quite the opposite, as he has developed a great interest in the natural toxins of the world, which carried over when he became a druid. The fact he is now immune has only made him bolder, much to the chagrin of his packmates.

Rumors of the presence of a fachen, a misshapen parody of a humanoid with only one leg, arm, and eye, can only mean the influence of the deity known as the Hateful Sculptor. The local druid circle  contemplates evacuating the area, knowing that the beast and other creations of the monstrous divinity are terribly strong despite their malformed nature. However, Ghilis has no intention of running, for as monstrous as the fachen is, it can still bow to venom’s agonizing kiss.

Claiming that they must be warding their morality against his divine senses, a paladin working with a colony of settlers has declared the grippli of the nearby rainforest dishonorable and evil for their use of poison. The longer he goes on, the more support he gains and the more unhinged he becomes. The fact that he hasn’t been able to feel the divine power flow through him is of no consequence, as surely it is just a divine test of character, one that he aims to pass by wiping out the “wicked frogs”

[archetypal-archivist]

Azul-Yutu Thoughts 0.2

Because I have brain rot and I'm enjoying myself, haha. (A bit of house-keeping, two name changes: Fior -> Fiore and Morry -> Mori). World belongs to @yuri-is-online, give their stuff a read, it's very good.

School continues on for Yutu, his first year friends, Mori and Fiore, and his second year friends, Sav and Thrush. After the disaster with the professor of defense failing to protect his charges, Crewel's nixed most field trips off school campus, which has some of the second and third years (who were next in line for trips) going a little stir crazy. Naturally, Sav is among them and he's making that Yutu's problem.

Sav keeps wanting to hear about the time Yutu and the other firsties took down the blot monsters the foolish professor failed to defeat and Yutu is getting sick of it. He already knows where he messed up in his tactics, he doesn't need yet another break down of how it all went, the first three times were enough. Eventually, Yutu decides that if Sav wants to hear about battle, it might be good to hear from other people on campus as well.

He grabs Sav, Fiore, and Mori (who doesn't need much convincing) and parks them all outside for lunch near the old wishing well (where Epel used to sing). Thrush, sensing trouble, comes too and sits atop the well to listen in and watch for anyone coming by. Yutu explains that there's still a lot they have yet to learn about blot monsters; that whole 'replicating from a puddle' thing is just one such example. If they'd known that was a thing, perhaps the professor could have dealt with it properly.

As such, it'd only be prudent to hear about other experiences people have had with blot monsters. Their job, Yutu explains, is to divide and conquer, finding adult mages of a certain age who'd seen life before the apocalypse and have some combat experience. If they can, get their stories of combat, if they can't, it's just another data point. Namely, how many people have actually lived through a blot monster attack? What are the odds?

Everyone agrees to the plan and they split up, Thrush trailing after his brother, Sav running off to talk to his professors, Mori leaving for the infirmary, and Yutu... Not really sure where to go. See, Yutu kinda has another motive for this plan beyond gaining knowledge and getting Sav off his back- he wants to know more about what's out there and what his chances of survival are.

Having come to Twisted Wonderland against his will, Yutu knows his future is bleak and he doesn't really have a plan for what he wants to do after graduation. Life outside NRC is tough and with Crewel breathing down his neck, he's not sure he'd be allowed to leave the school grounds even if he wanted to. His only plan is a tentative wondering about the chance of killing his overblotted father for good so he can lay him to rest with his deceased parent, Yuu. And that means Yutu needs to find info on Azul... Which is easier said than done.

Jump cutting between the members of Yutu's group, first round is Thrush and Fiore finding a group of recent graduates who'd fought overblotted mages, the stressed 20-somethings sharing about how the Queendom of Hearts is nigh-unlivable and how their attempts to retrieve things from their old homes have all been failures. One of them mentions how they'd heard rumors about safe places, another mentions how there are stories of a dread queen in red with four loyal monsters who is laying waste to the Queendom.

Fiore is fascinated, having been born at NRC and never having traveled beyond the borders is what's allowed. Thrush is far more wary, asking if the stories about the dread queen are true. The oldest of the group admits that yes, they likely are, and that the dread queen is Riddle, an alumni of NRC who's magic could shut down the magic of others. The dread queen has a similar power, which is why encounters with that overblotted mage are so deadly. Thrush feels a shiver go down his spine at the thought.

Sav is talking with professor Trein, attempting to put some of Yutu's lessons on getting others to tell you things to use. Of course, he's butchering it slightly and Trein is the last person to try this on, so eventually Trein asks Sav to cut to the chase. Sheepish, Sav asks about what it's like to fight an overblotted mage and Trein sighs before detailing his experience covering the retreat from the Shaftlands.

See, the Shaftlands are haunted by the monster of one of his old students, Rook Hunt, who makes sure no one lives within the borders of what he considers to be his 'Queen's' territory. Who the queen is, no one knows, but only parts of the snowy North and the driest parts rugged deserts/plains are safe, too difficult for Rook to travel. Trein hesitates for a moment, recalling Vil, before moving on to talk about the actual fight and how deadly it was. The only reason he survived was because he stepped over the border and Rook stopped attacking.

Mori is in the infirmary, greeting the healers there by name, who ask him if he's there for his 'usual'. He turns them down, then goes to talk to the patients, asking them about what landed them in the infirmary. They confess having tempted the outskirts of Briar Valley, bringing aid and supplies to those still trapped behind the massive walls of thorns. You'd think a kingdom where the most dangerous mage was asleep instead of a blotted ghoul would be safe, but that's not even close to the case.

When attacked, mages default to using their magic to defeat other overblotted mages, which drives them into over-blotting too. Since Briar Valley has the highest concentration of mages, it's a very, very dangerous place. Camps of survivors exist on the outskirts where Draconia's sleep spell is weakest, but news from them is rare and often consists only of casualty reports. As for Castle Draconia? Forget it. Briar Valley's king is asleep and everyone hopes he stays that way. Mori listens to all this in silence.

Cut to Crewel and he's being brought up to speed by someone off camera, learning that Yutu and his friends are looking for information on overblotted mages and how others have fought them. He frowns, looking serious, before sweeping out of his/Crowley's office, speaking over his shoulder that he needs to go talk to someone. Camera pans around and we see Sam take Crewel's place in Crowley's old chair. Only now, Sam is a withered husk of what he once was: estimated age, over 80 years old. Cut to Yutu and we see him enter Octavinelle from the main entrance just as we see Crewel enter the mirror for the Octavinelle dorm.

Cut again to Thrush and Fiore and the duo are play-shoving each other in the halls as they head for dinner. Fiore comments that he wasn't aware that there were 'boss mode' overblot mages, Thrush pokes back that Fiore's been spending too much time with Mori if that's how he's thinking. At this point, a passing old man chimes and claims that yeah, Fiore has about the right of it- some blot monsters really are 'Boss level.' As in, they control other overblotted mages and monsters.

The old man explains that he's from the Sunset Savannah, which is relatively safe thanks to the actions of their second prince, Leona, who had sacrificed himself to save the land. See, the prince had smarts, had figured out that there's a source for all this nonsense: a group of super powerful beings called Phantoms, twisted ghouls of the Great Seven. And Leona? Leona died to kill one. Thrush points out that if this was true, then more people would know about it, but the old man points out that it's not the amount of people who know, it's who knows. And trust him, he says, the right people know.

Back to Sav, he comes up to Fiore and Thrush's table with a troubled look on his face. He sits down with his tray of food (something canned and reheated with a side of fresh vegetables) and explains what the professor of botany said to him: that there are no blot monsters in the Scalding Sands. Apparently there's some sort of 'master mage' who rules the territory and demands fealty of all who live there, attacking anyone who gets too close to the palace. Those who are disobedient will die, monster or not.

Thrush startles then admits that such a mage sounds a lot like a 'phantom', proceeding to describe what the old man from earlier had told him. This troubles Sav further and he wonders aloud why they were never taught about these phantoms and why no one ever put together a strike team to go deal with them. If this Leona could kill a phantom, why hasn't anyone else tried. Fiore is excited by the prospect, Thrush is wary, pointing out that there has to be a good reason and it likely has a lot to do with not getting anyone killed. Fiore wonders aloud if it wouldn't be worth it though, to save lives, Thrush dope-slaps his younger brother upside the head, and the table resolves into silence.

Mori hadn't made it to dinner and is instead buying some instant noodles from a vending machine in Ignihyde. He turns to look up at a camera peering down from the ceiling corner and he gives it a little wave and a smile. He then tells the camera that he's found his 'party' and they're doing reconnaissance on the overblot phantoms. Mori waits for a moment, as if hoping for a response, but he gets nothing. Then he shrugs, muttering to himself with a smile that he supposes 'he can't always be watching' before turning on his heel, heading for his room. Through the window, the moon is rising, casting dark shadows across Mori's retreating figure.

Yutu steps into Octavinelle and immediately feels at home- which conversely has a shiver running up his spine, putting him on edge. Feeling at home in a place he's only just now visiting? Yeah right. Wary, he steps forward, caught up in admiring the colorful reefs and underwater scenery as seen through the glass tunnel to the main lounge area. As he walks, however, Yutu notices that there's a lot of people here and many of them look deeply unhappy. Couples staring up at the water, hands plastered to the glass, ignoring each other entirely; children sat in a line watching the fish in utter silence; then faces, empty faces, scars and sharp teeth and rough patches of dry, picked-at skin... It hits Yutu that these people are all merfolk, civilians displaced by the apocalypse that made the seas unlivable.

Stumbling through this tableau of both natural beauty and grieving humanity, the camera arcs over Yutu's head to catch the glass ceiling before returning to focus on his gently sad expression- then it zooms in over his shoulder to a bar where Crewel sits, talking to the bar tender. Cut to Crewel, he's drinking something fruity while Jade, the bar tender, cuts up slices of apple for other people's drinks.

Crewel tells Jade that Yutu has been settling into Savanaclaw nicely, Jade hums, waiting for the real reason Crewel is here. The headmaster keeps making leading small talk about Yutu's investigation and his parentage before sighing, finally asking Jade if there's going to be any... Problems. Jade's knife slams hard through an apple, leaving a neat half behind as he murmurs that at last, the truth comes out. Jade stands to full height and tells Crewel that no, he won't have any problems with Yutu coming to talk to him. Indeed... (And here he looks over Crewel's head to Yutu, who's standing, shocked, behind the headmaster).

Azul was one of Jade's dearest friends. Yutu fights back a gasp, not wanting the vulnerability of shock, and Crewel spins in his seat at the sound. He goes to introduce Jade but Jade beats him to it, coming from around the bar to stand in front of Yutu, hand over his heart as he introduces himself, explaining his place as Azul's friend and longtime business partner. And- here Jade pauses, tilting his gaze up to look out the window to the sea beyond- he believes he and Yutu have a lot to talk about.

[thatoneneuvichiliauthor]

Something that I thought was neat and had to share with someone that you might also think is a cool idea: So we know that Aventurine is really competent with gambling and just being cunning in general. What I *havent* seen anyone mention yet is that considering how he grew up, he would also have some really great hands on survival knowledge. Like picture him and Ratio get stranded somewhere similar to the type of planet sigonia was, and suddenly the otherwise flashy seeming Aventurine is the down to earth one who knows things like which local plants should be safe to eat and how to find water in the wild when it’s a mostly desert landscape. Idk I just love the idea of ratio and whoever else realizing what being raised on a planet like sigonia really *means* when it comes to survival knowledge lol

Oh, you're absolutely right! I could definitely see Aventurine switch to survival mode, especially since being stranded in a place like that would make all his memories of Sigonia resurface all at once. And if the resources he finds happen to be scarce, I can also see him giving most of it to Ratio and keeping merely the bare minimum for himself, maybe under the guise that there is more, because he just won't risk losing someone else to such a planet again. Perhaps by making that sacrifice, he would even be unknowingly replicating what his parents did to keep him and his sister in somewhat acceptable health when there was little food around. He would do everything in his power to put all the chances on Ratio's side, while counting on little more than his insane luck to keep himself alive. Of course, Ratio would pick up the signs and inevitably find out how Aventurine put his survival before his own, which would lead to a long conversation, some arguing, and Aventurine opening up a little more.

But as for the survival knowledge itself, I think Ratio would be both impressed by how much Aventurine knows, and horrified by the implication of what he must have gone through to not only learn all that, but to also have it become habits. Especially if he is aware of how young Aventurine was when he left Sigonia.

Now I also can't stop thinking about how conflicted Aventurine would be in such a situation, since to him, Sigonia is both the only true home he's ever had and the place where he lost all the ones he cared about. The absence of his parents and sister would probably hit so much worse on a planet that looks like Sigonia. He would try to keep it all hidden beneath his usual bravado, of course, but Ratio would definitely see through it and be concerned.

As you see, I have many, many thoughts about this too, so thanks a lot for sharing this great idea with me! I'm always happy to scream about these two and to share headcanons ❤️

[nostalgiachan]

Blooddrunk

Thirtieth Prompt: A drunken night out

C/W: basically NSFW (vampire feeding GONE SEXUAL whoa wow), blood

Summary: Vier wants to take Astarion out for drinks, but remembers there's only one real way for him to get drunk. Good thing she's a cleric. (3,018 words)

---

It had only been two months since Vier had brought Astarion to her home in Dawnshire, but she could tell the provincial life was making him a bit antsy. While his nights in Baldur’s Gate had been an endless nightmare of blood and suffering, the fact remained that the hustle and bustle of the city was what he was used to. Eventually, she hoped he’d come to enjoy the comparative peace and quiet of small town life, but it would take time before his wild heart settled into it. What he needed in the meantime was a little excitement.

Perhaps, Vier thought, a night out on the town would do him some good. While much of the village was still rebuilding in the wake of the nautiloid attack, through sheer providence, the Golden Dew Inn had survived - not a particularly bawdy tavern, especially by Baldur’s Gate’s standards, but still a lovely place to spend an evening. They could head out, mill about town a while, get some drinks and–

Wait. Shit.

Did Astarion much care for drinking if it couldn’t get him drunk? And now that her mind was on the subject, how was he able to drink wine, anyway? She was certainly no expert on vampire biology, but to her knowledge, all food turned to ash and all drink to bile in a vampire’s mouth, thus the whole need to consume blood. Had that been why he’d always complained about perfectly good wines tasting like vinegar, or had he just been hard to please? And despite his attempts at drinking, the only time she remembered seeing him actually drunk was that night he’d exsanguinated a bear.

Planning a date would’ve been hard enough for Vier had Astarion been mortal; how did one go planning a date with a vampire spawn?

The memory of the night with the bear stuck around a bit longer than expected, and slowly, a question rose to the forefront of her thoughts: would she be able to replicate that effect with her own blood? How much blood did a bear have, exactly? Obviously, more than your average mortal, given the massive size difference. Even if she allowed Astarion to drain every last drop from her - a thoroughly idiotic notion, given she was not about to waste a truly hard-earned resurrection scroll on a flight of fancy, and she doubted that Withers (wherever he was) would summon her back if she ended up dead of her own folly - he still likely wouldn’t receive the same amount of blood.

But there was always her steadfast ally, the lesser restoration spell, wasn’t there? Casting it on herself had become almost as much a daily ritual for Vier as giving thanks to Lathander at each sunrise. Frankly, she was amazed Astarion hadn’t gotten tired of her taste yet, given how he indulged himself in her each and every night. She worked out a few more numbers in her head. By her estimation, she could lose about a liter and a half before she would need to cast the spell. Once she crossed that line, it would be much more difficult to focus on casting, and once she hit two liters, she was almost certainly a goner. She could cast the spell up to thrice, with short breaks between to allow time for the blood to regenerate, meaning she could give somewhere between four-and-a-half and six liters, all in all. Would that be enough?

As her mind lost itself in puzzling out the details, her body was left quite vulnerable as she sat on the couch in her office. Sensing this moment of weakness, a certain pale form was drawn to her side, quietly wrapping its cold embrace about her shoulders and startling her nearly out of her skin.

“Oh, dear,” Astarion cooed into her ear as he nestled his head against her left shoulder. “Someone looks deep in thought. Nothing’s troubling you, I hope?”

“No, no,” Vier quickly breathed as her pulse quickly evened out. “Just thinking, is all. Though now that you’re here, I wanted to float an idea your way.”

Astarion picked up his head to get a better look at Vier as she regaled him with the details. “Ooh, by all means, float on.”

As Vier walked him through the entire thought process, from the desire for a date night to the blood plan, a smile slowly crept across his face. “You know, I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to you being so sweet on me,” he finally said as she wrapped up her explanation, “but I do have one teensy concern. See, as much as I absolutely want this,” - his words positively dripped with desire - “are you sure you’re not going to hurt yourself? A bloodthirsty scoundrel I may be, but I’m not as alright with the idea of accidentally killing you as I used to be.”

Vier couldn’t entirely tell if he was joking with her. “I would hope you wouldn’t be alright with it at all, but we’ll get there one day, I suppose,” she grumbled with a grimace. “And about the only thing I’m sure of is that I want to try this for you. Worse comes to worse, I keep the resurrection scroll in a hidden drawer in my desk. I know you’ve already figured out how to pop that one open.”

With a tut and a pout, Astarion asked, “Have I really gotten that sloppy?”

“No, but I know you, dear,” Vier explained, “and I know you’ve probably rummaged through every container in my dormitory and at least half of those in the rest of the temple by now.”

“Aw, you really do know me,” Astarion said with a wistful sigh and a mischievous glint in his eye. “Promise I haven’t stolen anything, though; you took a great risk convincing your colleagues to let me stay here, and I swear I won’t do anything to get myself thrown out. On purpose, anyway.”

An opportunity presented itself, and Vier simply couldn’t pass it up. “You’re being a good boy?” she asked as her head leaned in just a touch, a sly smile crossing her face. Astarion responded in kind, leaning in even closer.

“Oh, I’m being a very good boy,” he hummed, his voice dropping dangerously low and quiet with each word.

“Which is why you’ve earned this little treat,” Vier replied. But just as Astarion could no longer contained himself and pressed in towards her neck, she put a finger to his lips to stop him. “Ah, wait, before you start.” 

If Vier didn’t know any better, she’d have thought the man had started panting with anticipation. His red-eyed gaze locked on her intensely as she pushed him back just a hair. “Do you think you can keep your feeding clean, or should I put down some rags? I’d rather my office not look like the infirmary when all’s said and done.”

“I’ll keep the feeding clean, I’m sure,” he breathed with impatience, “but I make no guarantees about the rest. Now, may I?”

Something about the way he asked flipped a switch in Vier’s mind. A warm blush spread across her cheeks, and her gut fluttered like it was their first night all over again. It was going to be a lot harder to focus if her mind was half turned to love-drunk mush. This elf truly did have an incredible power over her, didn’t he? The next word came out much weaker, much softer, much more submissive than she’d initially intended.

“Please.”

With a flash of a fanged smile, Astarion reached across Vier’s lap and guided her to straddle his waist. The moment she was mounted and ready, he threaded one of his pale hands into her sussur bark hair and pulled her throat down to his eager mouth. His plush lips pressed against the skin in a teasing kiss, as if he wanted to make her wait for what lay just behind them - as though he hadn’t already shown her just how much he wanted to dive right in. She wanted to roll her eyes and say, “Sweetheart, just get in there already,” but the familiar sensation of his teeth finally piercing into her neck stopped the words.

Vier braced herself against the top of the couch as Astarion drained the sweet crimson from her, the sound of his lewd swallowing filling her ears. She wanted to cling tightly to him, to grip him by his luxurious hair and pull him in more and more, but she needed to stay focused. She couldn’t let herself get lost in the feeling of her lifeblood blissfully ebbing away and the delicious pain of his fangs piercing deep.

But gods, was it hard. Vier’s pulse had already been set to racing purely by being wrapped in Astarion’s deathly cold embrace, making it difficult to gauge when it began racing due in greater part to the blood loss. The heat of her body seemed to rise and fall in equal measure as he drank deeply from her. Had he started drinking faster, or was that the illusion of her brain beginning to cloud over?

No, don’t lose focus now.

Vier recentered herself, slipping as she was into the haze. She lifted a hand from the back of the couch, and intoned the words, “Vincere est vivere”. This was Astarion’s cue to take a break for a moment, and to her slight surprise, he freed her from his hungry jaws, slumping back onto the cushions with a half-lidded look in his eye. Vier’s body followed, her head resting against his shoulder a moment as the blood quickly regenerated within her veins. Her breathing steadied, her mind cleared, and her body temperature evened out - though as her faculties returned, each would be sent into total overdrive.

Once her head stopped swimming, she simply couldn’t help herself from turning his face towards her and kissing him deeply, harshly, the acrid taste of iron filling her mouth as their tongues collided. It was almost embarrassing the way she loved how he killed her, little by little. She could feel his skin growing the slightest bit warmer to the touch, and a distinct movement beneath her let her know he was enjoying himself as much as she was. At that rate, they weren’t going to make it to the second round. But for the experiment’s sake, they needed to continue.

Vier pulled away, her breathing ragged, and moaned out, “Alright, keep going.” Astarion wasted no time obliging her, swiftly pushing back her hair and tucking in once more. Loudly, Vier whined as fangs once again met flesh and her blood became his. Though she should have kept herself braced, did everything she could to maintain awareness, she was getting far too into it now. Once more, her heart set to beating wildly in her chest, once more her mind was awash in a haze of confusion and arousal. She could feel his nails digging into the back of her neck and the base of her spine. She couldn’t tell which of the two of them started grinding against the other first, but both of them were greedily pulling at each other, wanting to sink deeper inside one another.

Astarion was moaning now, growling now, as he feasted upon Vier, and though he’d promised to keep things clean, he was beginning to grow quite messy. At first, only a trickle of blood escaped the confines of his lips. But then, the trickle grew into a stream which traveled down Vier’s chest, staining her white blouse a deep maroon. She could feel him start to pull away, intent on following the stream and catching what he’d lost on his tongue, but she kept her hand locked on the back of his head to hold him where he was - if he pulled out now, her blood could very well end up staining more than just her shirt.

Once more, the edges of Vier’s vision began to darken, and as much as every fiber of her form seemed to cry out for that sweet, final release, she needed to restore herself. Again, she raised her hand, and again, she spoke the words. But this time, her mind and body struggled to summon up the healing energies within. While they did find their strength at last, would she be able to do it once more, or would she be too far gone to pull herself back?

More importantly, would Astarion have the willpower to stop himself? Because with the second cast, he didn’t release Vier immediately. No, he seemed to clamp down tighter this time, desperate to take just a bit more before the positive energies coursed through her circulation and sent him reeling away with a sputter - for the days of being healed by healing magic were once again behind him. As he leaned back on the couch once more, a groan pouring forth from his blood-soaked mouth, Vier noticed something peculiar - the sclerae of his eyes had turned pitch black, a curious reaction.

“It’s funny,” Vier rasped, her breathing slowly growing less haggard as the restorative magic took hold again, “your eyes look just like mine now.”

“Do they, now?” Astarion asked, his words coming out in a relaxed drawl. “Then I must have some lovely eyes, indeed.”

With a tired laugh, Vier’s head slumped onto Astarion’s shoulder once more. His skin had begun to gain a blush of life, nearly as warm as her own. If she listened closely, she swore she could almost hear a faint thud somewhere within his chest. Her lips returned to his, the sanguine taste even more overwhelming now as her tongue delved deep within. 

“Are you ready for the last of it, my sweet,” Astarion moaned after their lips finally parted, “or are you going to make me beg?”

“Oh, I’m very tempted to, dear,” Vier chuckled dangerously, “but you did say you’ve been a very good boy, so I won’t keep your treat from you. I’m–”

The word “ready” had barely left her tongue before Astarion pounced upon her for the last time. Harder now, he bit into her, tighter now, his arms constricted her, as though he feared she could escape his clutches at any moment. Cries of pleasure echoed across the walls of the office, cries which Vier was far too gone to attempt to stifle now. She tried to snake one of her hands down into the infinitesimally small space between their legs to massage the mound which pressed against her, but her arms quickly grew weak with the speed of his feeding. Her mind struggled to remember her purpose, torn as her body was between sweet ecstasy and rapidly approaching death. Colder and colder, she grew, as more of her lifeblood fell from his lips and drenched them both. For a moment, she nearly forgot the words of the spell entire, and she was tempted to simply allow herself to go - she’d told Astarion where the scroll was, after all, and perhaps a little death wouldn’t be so bad?

No! She’d come too far to fail at the last hurdle now. One more cast was all she needed. Astarion would have an entire person’s worth of blood within him, he’d be happy, and they could go out and…do the thing…whatever she’d said she was going to do with him. What had it been? What was she even doing there? Why was she feeling so cold…

But just as Vier’s mind began to slip past the threshold, Astarion suddenly disengaged with a deep and thoroughly satisfied moan and a great shudder of ecstasy, and the feeling of her blood seeping out into the open air jolted her back into awareness. Though her arms felt heavier than stones, she raised a hand and strained to get the words out as the world turned to mist around her. “Vincere est…shit…Vincere est vivere!”

As he came to himself, Astarion pulled Vier back into a much gentler embrace, his hand delicately petting her head as it slumped against his shoulder yet again. “Oh gods, did we go too far?” he asked, his voice filled with a surprisingly genuine concern. “You’re alright. Please tell me you’re alright.”

“I’ll be fine, once all my blood’s back,” she sighed against his now quite warm skin. “Just, you know…give me a minute.”

Vier couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard Astarion sigh with relief. “Good, because I would feel just terrible if I was the only one feeling as good as I do right now.”

With a hint of a struggle, Vier pushed herself back up to look at him. Though he was still pale, his skin now held a healthy pink glow to it. His eyes had returned to their normal state, and he looked deeply, truly satiated in a way she’d never seen before.

“So, er…was it good for you?” she wearily joked, wiping the sweat from her still slightly clammy skin.

“Darling, aside from the bits where I was worried for your life, it was absolutely incredible,” Astarion replied, practically vibrating with excitement. “Look at me, I’m harder than adamantine and feel like I could fuck an orthon to death. You have utterly spoiled me tonight, my love.” “Oh, good, good. I think we’ll need to practice this whole process, because it was a bit touch-and-go for a while, but I’m glad the first attempt was a success. Say, erm…we can’t go out looking like this.”

For seemingly the first time, Astarion noted the fact they looked like they’d just gotten back from a visit with Bhaal - their clothes were absolutely soaked through, the couch was half-smeared, and a few splatters had even made it to the wall behind them.

“Oh…no, we certainly cannot,” he noted.

“So, I’ve got a bottle of Stagswift tucked away in my desk,” Vier continued. “What say we throw our clothes in the laundry, I polish off that bottle, and then you clean off all the blood you spilled on me, if you catch my meaning?”

“Darling, there is nothing I’d like more.”

[hanayori89]

A Dangerous Game

Your POV

You could feel your diaphragm contract uncomfortably. Link chose to give everyone a brief interlude. You weren't sure why Link called the momentary break, regardless you were grateful. The smothering tension between you both was enough to lay rest to a Stalchild. It was detrimental at this point. You weren't sure you could survive it much longer. Also, you found your nagging insecurities returning. Why would Link choose you? Out of every beautiful and capable woman in Hyrule or outside its parameters; why you?

"I can't hide in this bathroom forever." The stinging sensation of tears threatened to return. You stared at your reflection in the mirror. "Goddesses, if I cry-I'll surely be a poor sight with all this make up muddled on my face."

"Then perhaps you shouldn't." A gentle voice glided past you, making you aware of the second reflection in the mirror. Princess Zelda's eloquent presence stood, gazing back at you. Her eyes met yours in the mirror. A glib statement escaped her peony pout. "It seems Link seeks you at this time." 

"I'll be right out," you stammered at her reflection. You were instantly aware of how provincial your dialect was compared to that of her highness. She showed no instigation of moving from where she stood. She studied your reflection in the mirror, rather passively. An observation came forth from her then. "You seem troubled. Why, I don't recall my face replicating yours even when Ganondorf captured me. A sacred union with your true love should not make you look this way. Marriage is a celebration, unless..." a glimmer of sorrow broke through her regality, "Unless you are me." You turned to meet the princess face to face. Why was she being raw with you?

Something about the princess made you want to bare your insecurities that plagued you from within. She was as regal and poised as the next noble, but in that moment, she was as you were. A human burdened with the unknown possibilities the future could bring. A human who just wanted to be loved. "Princess, I..." you were unsure where to begin.

"Zelda. I will not have the wife of the hero of legend venerate me. I am venerated enough." The same impression of sorrow returning to her face once more. "Why do you hide from Link? Do you doubt your union? Do you fear he shall be called to bear arms against the forces of evil once more?"

"All of those things. I just..." you felt silly divulging this to Zelda. She was tall and curved with muscle to defend her kingdom. Her hair was a long, blonde shawl of silk down her back. Her royal jewels on her neck seemed to be lost to the brilliance that was her face. Her eyes shimmered like aquamarines against the pearly flesh of her taut cheeks. The goddesses most definitely smiled upon her. Until you remembered the sadness on her face when she spoke of love. 

"Why would Link choose me? He could have chosen anyone. I mean, just look at you princess." This made Zelda's impregnable seriousness falter and she began to laugh. 

"Oh Hylia, forgive me. For I always think of duty. I suppose before duty, we are women, aren't we? She gave her chin a soft caress and then cupped it in thought. "May I share with you a story? I feel it would lay rest to your worries. " You nodded, still amazed the princess was asking for your permission to speak. 

"When Link defeated the beast that was dwelling inside the Water temple-"

"Morpha." You beamed at her. She smiled gently, "Yes, Morpha. You have heard this story, I take it? Bear in mind during this part of Link's journey I was under the alias of Shiek." She gave you a quick glance to make sure you were following along. You recalled Link mentioning the mysterious 'Shiek.' You also recalled your surprise when he revealed that 'Shiek' was none other than Zelda under some form of magic. Staring at her up close and personal, you surmised she was just as beautiful as a man. 

"Link and I stood and watched as the water level slowly rose. Lake Hylia would begin its transformation to its previous state of lush riverbends and waterfalls. The Zora people would be set free to return to their domain. It was at this point when I knew that the goddesses made no mistake in choosing Link as the hero. I disappeared on him, as I often did to protect my identity. I remember watching him from high above one of the trees. He looked out beyond the lake. A look of stark yearning took over him then. He spoke to Navi about how he missed home. I felt guilty recognizing that he too was plunged into an unforgiving destiny. I assumed 'home' was the Kokiri woods from which he came. I was mistaken. Home was you. " 

You gulped, cupping your hands over your mouth in response. You were trying to process the enormity of what the princess had just imparted. You had always wondered why Link returned after each temple to visit. All this time, he had been yearning for you the same way you were yearning for him. 

Zelda pressed on," It was during Ganon's fight that the master sword was knocked from his grip. He never looked more the hero than he did that day. He stood at the mercy of a cruel fate but the only thing he could manage to say was, 'tell Y/N-that I love her. I always have'."  Zelda looked slightly emotional at the memory. "I used my magic and managed to hold Ganon down. Allowing Link to defeat him with the master sword, thus sealing him away. I wanted to send Link back to his time, for he was cheated out of seven years of his life after all. He refused my offer. He had gotten so close to you, going back in time would be a precarious move. He thought it would mess up the flow of how your relationship had formed. What if in the new timeline, you didn't grow as close? What if somehow, it messed up what he dreamed of... being with you. So, I honored his wish, making him equal age, mentally and physically. However, choosing to stay in this timeline means those seven years are forever lost. Link didn't care. He got to be with you the way he wanted. Seven years of his life was worth that to him."

Your hands remained cupped over your mouth. You attempted to hide the uncontrollable shaking of your lips. It proved fruitless. Tears spilled freely down your eyes. Zelda continued, "I can't think of a man in the history of Hyrule who would do for love what Link has done. Trust me, for I have read every piece of Hylian literature to confirm this statement. Sometimes I wish, I could know love this way. I also understand that love takes many forms. For me, it is the love of my kingdom. The love of my people. Now-" Zelda grabbed a handkerchief from inside a compartment in her dress, dabbing at your eyes with it. "You must go to him. For if I must be bestowed this heavy duty to my kingdom- then so it is you have been bestowed a heavy love for the Hero of Time."

In that moment, all you wanted was to collapse into Link's arms. You walked out of the bathroom with your head held high. You turned to Zelda, remembering the sadness that had loomed in her eyes. "Zelda, thank you. Not just for this but, for the sacrifices you have made. The fate you've accepted from the goddesses."

She gave you a simple, dismissive nod. You knew that the raw Zelda you just met had been stowed away for another time.  With that, you ran as fast as your heels would take you. The love of your life was waiting for you. There was no longer room for your self- doubt to infringe itself upon you. 

Link POV

Link stood uneasily behind his mask of confidence on stage. He wondered if he had come on too strong. Had he scared you away? Perhaps being married to him and this consistent attention would grow tiresome. Then there was the idea he could be thrust into another face off with evil at any given time. Maybe he wasn't worth the trouble. 

Was he even sure Y/N felt the same? Wasn't she flirting with him? When she hungrily whispered into his ear, rendering him weak. The way she furiously blushed at him. Didn't she feel the same?

He thought of all the love she poured into him over the years. She cared for him without ever asking for something in return. Even now she came to this competition on his behalf. Wasn't it out of love? An image of him holding you in his arms in the graveyard came to his mind. The way your smile graced your lips as he held you, whirling you around. Suddenly all the people faded away. Link felt like he had in Lake Hylia. He could remember missing you with such a fervor. He remembered wishing he could drown the longing he felt at the depths of the lake. He remembered just wanting to hold you.

A hush befell the crowd as a symphony of soft instruments began to surround the stage. Just as the desperation threatened to swallow him whole, you walked onto the stage. You walked up to Link, a coy smile on your lips. Your voice smudged out beneath the harmony of instruments, serenading you both. You stood close to his ear once more. "I believe you owe me a waltz?" The familiar pitter patter of his heart returned, as it did so often when he saw you. Passion seized him then, causing him to roughly yank you towards him. You hit right into his defined chest.  He took his hand, cupping it as he slightly moved your chin upward. His arm tightly fastened itself around your waist. Link removed his hand from your chin and grasped your left one. Your right hand remained secured to his chest. You couldn't help but feel his elevated heart rate beneath his clothes. You snaked your right arm around his neck. You were both in position, ready to waltz. 

As you began moving your feet in tandem, Link grazed his lips against your ear. "I'm going to punish you for scaring me today."

"I don't think so. I put on a dress for you."

"Just because you look so damn beautiful doesn't give you the right to play with my heart!" He hissed with a tone of resentment that caught you off guard. You looked into his eyes, seeing the palpable hurt. He then took you by surprise, dipping you low.

"I never would intentionally hurt you, Link." The vulnerable base of your neck was exposed, beckoning Link to kiss it. "L-Link there are people watching us!" The warmth of his mouth was now on your neck. You suppressed the little moan that was captured in your throat. He began to murmur against your flesh. " The people never mattered. Because in a sea of people I always manage to just look for you. Don't you understand why I came back to you after every temple? How can you not see the way you make me feel?" He tenderly lifted you up, working you both back into a comfortable rhythm once more. Despite the rising warmth on your face, you met Link's eyes. It was time to succumb to the smoldering want holding you both captive. "Should I make you see? Make you see what you do to me?" Suddenly he pressed his lips on yours. You could hear the 'oohs and aahs' emerging from the crowd. He was no longer in the mood to hide his passion. He firmly poked his tongue in your mouth, not asking permission to enter. He didn't need to, of course. For you, it was more than welcome.  

Link moaned into your lips as he continued to devour you with his kiss. He pulled away and enveloped your face between his rough hands. "Do you see now? That I love you? That I always have. That I always will?"

It was flush to what Zelda had said in the bathroom. She was telling the truth. Then that means so was Link. A bubbly smile erupted on your face. You couldn't fight yourself any longer. You leaned in for another kiss. The concept of honoring the contest became futile at this point.

"I love you too, Link. So much."

You both had been playing the dangerous game of love and you both had emerged victorious.

Link to my Wattpad and other fanfics below 👇🏻

[helria]

Forget-me-Lots - Wilson

Word Count: 821 | Pairing: Wilson Percival Higgsbury x Nondescript Female Character

Summary: While enjoying a cup of weeds, Wilson begins to realize that perhaps the best solution to his stress isn't simply forgetting about his problems.

The scientist sat alone with his cup of tea, and he thought of her.

The woman he had left behind, fending for herself in that shoddy cabin while he tore a hole through space. The woman that, for all he knew, had already changed her life and moved on. It was an easier thought to live with than believing she would mourn. That she would spend her days longing for a man who left her, for a man no longer there. He had always wondered how he'd managed to win her heart. With him gone, perhaps she'd find somebody new.

He took another sip once the idea crossed his mind, letting the bitter taste cloud the details until all he felt was aimless remorse. He couldn't deny the effect those weeds had in calming him down. It was easy not to worry when it was easy to forget. The tension in his mind eased as the floral scent filled his senses, already wondering just what it was that had bothered him in the first place.

It was his wife. No, fiancée? Had they tied the knot? Had he even proposed? He was sure that he has given her the ring, or at least... Yes, he clearly remembered taking the box from his cabinet drawer. Or was it the compartment in his desk? The ring itself, it was made of silver. Platinum? Steel. Or was it gold?

He didn't know.

The worries he'd tried to wipe away were only coming back in full force, compounded with a looming sense of uncertainty in the depths of his soul. How much of his life had he lost? How many cups of that wretched flower had he brewed? He had never stopped to notice its impact before, simply thinking of her as 'his wife' and nothing more, but the more that he tried to picture her face, the more blurry the details became.

Did her hair rest over her shoulders, or did it stop by her chin? He remembered a time where it went all the way down her back. She told him why she cut it, then; it was too warm. Too heavy, perhaps. Was that right? It could've been both. Either way, she hated having to curl it for events. Or did she like it? That she thought it was pretty, yet tedious? It was something involving those curlers, nonetheless. That was all he knew. He couldn't remember if the plastic was blue or pink.

He couldn't picture her face. He couldn't replicate her voice. The only thing he could come up with was a hazy silhouette, a vague, human figure in his mind that he was starting to forget. He was losing sight of their memories. Losing track of their quality time. All he held onto was the abstract way things felt, how joyous it was to be with her and how painful it was to be apart. He knew that he loved her. She made sure he knew she felt the same. Was that not enough? Was it really enough?

He poured his cup into the grass. The thought of drinking it made him sick. It may have eased his nerves in the moment, but what then? What was his goal? If he continued to erase those kinds of thoughts, if there came a day where he could think of her without an ounce of regret, would that not mean that he had fallen out of love? Wilson had a choice in front of him, then. To leave it all and forget, or to stay with her and mourn. It felt unbelievable that he'd chosen anything less.

In a sense, he wanted to welcome the pain. It was a sign that he still had a heart after all. The world that they lived in was one of magic and mystery, of so many radically ludicrous things that it was hard to keep his proverbial feet on the ground. He'd done nothing but gun for survival with every season that passed. For once, he needed to stop and remember that he was only one human man. One man caught up in the tangles of love. It almost felt like a different life. He struggled to see the man in those memories as himself.

But as he sat there on the ground, staring at the sky, staring at the clouds, feeling the breeze and the way it blew through his tall hair... He thought of her. As his heart ached, he thought of her. He thought of them, of the young couple that shone so blindingly bright. He thought of the way they'd grown older. The way they'd promised, so naïvely, that their love would never fade. He nearly smiled as he realized it still rang true. That even on the other side, he still had faith that she loved him, too.

The thought alone brought him far more comfort than the tea.

[tenebriism]

How it manages to find him she’ll never truly know, but once again an envelope has found its way into Dainsleif’s possession. Etched in a familiar slanted cursive and scented faintly of the dandelions of her namesake, the envelope is a little thicker this time, to cater for a treasure bestowed within. 

Dear starlight wanderer, 

Can you believe it’s been a month since the last letter? I meant to write to you sooner but life had other plans. I hope it’s been kinder to you wherever you are. Perhaps you’ve had a glimpse of Spring already? 

The season is already starting to change in Mondstadt. The temperature’s a little warmer and the wind a touch less severe - the trees are even starting to show signs of blossom and the flowers are peeking out from their half-yearly slumber. 

I think they must be waking up in time for the Windblume festival. It’s only a few days away now and certainly been keeping me busy. We’re decorating the entire city again in honour of Barbatos, but it’s the gifting of windblumes I think most people are looking forward to. 

I know there’s always a grand debate about which flower is most befitting of the archon, so I thought you might prefer something more personal. It’s only silly…but I made you a flower. I wasn’t sure if any actual bloom would survive the trip so I hope my handicraft will suffice. 

I thought this way it might have a little more longevity, since the petals are made from fabric from Liyue in honour of where we first met, and cloth from Mondstadt for a piece of home. 

Next time we cross paths, perhaps we can find you a real flower? But until then I hope this engineered bloom will keep you safe and content in the knowledge that you were in my thoughts. 

Take care as always, 

J. G 

Dandelion Guided by the Winds,

Time, it seems, is oft lost upon me. However, since meeting you, I have noticed it feels as if the days are much longer when I am not by your side. It's a strange phenomena that I likely could not explain even with a written guide, but regardless, it is nice to hear from you. I am certain you have been busy, so knowing you found a pocket of time to write to me is a cherished thought.

The Windblume Festival . . . I have heard things about it in passing, though I have never sought the opportunity to immerse myself in the festivities, or perhaps I have just never been in the area upon its commencement. Though my opinion of the Archons is one likely unwelcomed by most, it may be worth it to attend a celebration in one's honor to see you again; I will try my best to be in attendance, even if it must be brief.

If not ( and, even, if by some wealth of fortune, I am able to make this happen ), I will cherish this creation of yours. Nature is delicate, fragile. Gifts of flora, though delightful and beautiful, do not live long in my possession; this, I can easily keep safe, and plan to. Thank you. I will try my hand at replicating your creation so I may send one back.

Should you receive a real flower next time, however, you will know I failed in my endeavor. I apologize ahead of time.

Lately, I have not been feeling well. Not like myself. Were I being wholly honest, I do not think I know what it feels like to be ' myself ' anymore, and have not for some time, but my self familiarity fluctuates, I have realized. It is better, right now, as I write to you. More, as I read your letters. Closer, when I am in your presence.

I hope, in part, through you, I am able to find myself again . . . and that you will continue to bestow these opportunities unto me. Willingly, I mean.

Until next time,

~ D .

@gunnhildred ;; ♥

[hazel-da-basil-deactivated]

Hazel Muses about dead peoples romantic/sexual lives and if they were queer or not.

So Like trying to put labels on people isn’t the best. But I’m trying to figure out this whole Sylvia Fine Danny Kaye thing and its like historical curiosity I guess. Like in the time and place they lived you couldn’t really talk about these things and knowledge of them sometimes just wasn’t there.

Like looking at Danny Kaye, traumatized youth who became a funny guy to survive. just pretty normal human stuff. But also learning to dance in like 6 months for a movie, becoming the top non-asian chinese chef, learning to pilot planes, learning to conduct despite not being able to read music, able to replicate accents well enough that native speakers would be really confused they couldn’t understand the utter nonsense he was saying with the accent, etc. This seems to me like he was probably autistic. Not that uh thats what I’m getting at. just a tangent.

So Danny was married to a woman named Sylvia Fine. And this seems to have been primarily a business/friend relationship. They did have a child, but only one. Danny was known to cheat on Sylvia, but I wonder if it was actually cheating, because really from what I can tell Sylvia seemed mostly okay with it. Other than a long affair Danny had with Eve Arden early in their relationship anyway.

So I’m kind of wondering if they were polyam or at least open in their relationships. I’ve seen no mention of affairs on Sylvia’s side. This could be because she was more discrete than Danny, or because she didn’t have them, or just because I have so little info.

From descriptions of her I at first felt, was she a lesbian? But the more I think about this I kinda feel like she was ace. Like she just wasn’t really interested with Sex, but since Danny was she let him go out and have sex. I’m not sure the two even had a strong romantic attachment. I’ve seen stuff that says they didn’t here. And descriptions kind of make me feel like Danny was aromantic/demi romantic. And maybe Sylvia was as well. Like they had a light romantic connection, a strong bond that many people wouldn’t necessarily recognize as romantic.

But I have no way to know really. They’re both dead. I can’t ask them. They’re daughter is still alive, but how aware are most children of their parents sexual/romantic lives?

This could also just be me just not wanting Danny being some Philanderer who was constantly Breaking Sophie’s heart and torturing her over their long marriage.

Anyway I feel like they were a queer couple. And looking at all this old music, you just see so many examples of queer people, that we just pretend weren’t. And because we pretend they weren’t the fact that they were gets lost to history, so that later generations don’t realize they were. So it seems like queer history is empty. It always looks empty.

But we know a lot of these people were queer. I don’t mean like by analyzing and wondering like I’m doing here. We know that one of the Andrews sisters was queer. Her long time partner has talked about it. Billie Holiday was bi apparently. It wasn’t even really a secret at the time. Not to people who knew her at least. But this history is hidden. Sure today it’s not too hard to find if you go to look for it. Details perhaps are lacking, but I don’t need to know the names of Billie Holidays various lovers. It’s just so strange that all of this is shoved back and hidden in the depths of a dusty old broom cupboard. Like queer people have always existed. People that you love, whose voices have moved you, whose acting has brought a smile to your face are queer. But you can’t love that part of them? You have to hide it and pretend it doesn’t exist? How can you love queen’s music, and not acknowledge that you love a queer person? You pretend that Freddie Mercury wasn’t bi when you listen to it. Most of you think he was gay, but you know he was queer. But you pretend that he wasn’t when you listen to his music. You hate queer people, oh but that Freddie Mercury you love his music. How? I just don’t understand how you can love someone like that, but hate such an integral part of them.

How are people homophobic, when they love so many homos?

[suturcd]

@outwards said: hiiii i slide in the 👫 with narafran orrrrr maybe franna (fran and kanna) or maybe even frantrish whatever you vibe with i just think all our charas are so cool in any sense so i spinny a roulette and chinhands at your gorjus words

send a 👫and I’ll write four headcanons I have about our muse’s relationship    // accepting.

001. // Fran is not in the practice of doling out flattery for flattery's sake, but when she thinks something is praiseworthy she will remark on it in a very matter-of-fact way. Whenever Narancia is on the receiving end of this his confidence for the day reaches an all-time high and he will brag about it 100% unprompted. He brings it back to the Bucci gang like "YEAH SO TODAY FRAN TOLD ME I HAVE GREAT BODILY-KINESTHETIC INTELLIGENCE AND A STRONG SENSE OF RHYTHM" all puffed up and proud of himself. He cannot be taken down a peg in this state. Sorry Fran didn't compliment you on your sweet moves or told you that you remind her of a dope sea slug but that's not his problem. Some of us are just born cool and loveable and girls compliment them about it. Maybe in the next life you'll have his luck.

002. // Sometimes Fran sees Narancia move or drum along to his music and it itches her brain in such a way that later on in the day she will find herself adopting/mirroring it as an absentminded stim. Feels good feels organic.

003. // Narancia and Fran stopped attending school at around the same time in their lives, so in a post-VA Narancia-lives, maybe perhaps mayhaps... they kind of finish up school together (in whatever form that takes). Or maybe they infiltrate a school as students to investigate/lure out someone operating from within it? I just think Fran-Narancia school life light novel side story is very fun as a concept. "Classmate B's Observation Log: The Transfer Students Are Mobsters?! (More Importantly, What's Their Relationship...?)"--Book 1 out now.

004. // I love to think about Fran doing things that throw Narancia off his rhythm without meaning to like reaching out to brush something out of his hair, staring intently at him for extended periods (she is zoning out), abruptly bringing up some tiny detail about something he does that she observed and tucked away for later, etc. Fran autistic girl swag once again.

005. // I think it would be difficult for it to come about but there is something in the fact that both Narancia and Fran lost their mothers at almost the exact same age (surviving the same events/conditions their mothers passed from, at that) and how guttingly world-shaking that is. I would love for them to talk about their moms is what I'm saying. I think it would be good.

006. // Fran’s surgical mask Narancia’s natural enemy. Narancia did something silly once that Fran huffed out a very quiet, very muffled laugh over and he whipped around like a bloodhound catching a scent and has been trying to replicate the results ever since. Fran smiling at Narancia behind the mask indulgence. Alright Fran, keep your secrets.

[clairethecutepup]

The Dreams and Nightmares We Share... (Ch.7)

Chapter Description:

Once again, the Dream Team finds themselves separated... But they're not the only ones meant to eventually reunite again-- if they can even survive long enough.

Series Description:

Two different duos and one lone girl find themselves together, as they try to return to their respective worlds. Unfortunately, perhaps some dreams aren’t meant to be awakened from-- especially if a sinister double or two has anything to say about it.

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If you prefer reading here:

[Wolves Unite, Where Sheep Separate…]

Fortunately, no one found difficulty in moving within their new skins. Unfortunately, it's not the most comfortable wear... Still, it's preferable to being detected by any of these demons roaming the area. Plus, they're all together again-- though, that's more relief for Jimmy, Claire and Alexis; with Claire more so glad to be in Jimmy's specific company.

The pup really needed the comfort, her mind terrified at the idea of her specific skin being removed or running out of its rue leaves. She held onto Jimmy's hand, but Alexis' hoof also found itself clenched within a large paw: a man held for comfort, a goat held because the doe didn’t want Claire taking off again. Alexis also liked squeezing that blue paw for her own comfort, despising the scary skin she's forced to choose over scarier beasts. She'd be crying again, if not for that furry stress ball and already fulfilling most of her sobbing needs after the grim reaper's harsh truth. Claire could tell Alexis also needed a reassuring hand, given the strong grip she felt, so she wouldn't resist nor try to escape.

"Escape"... Could they be so lucky with this horrifying fate?

Claire desired it the strongest now: not because it’s any more vital for her specifically to return home, but being the only one something might’ve taken interest in. Oh, if only she knew it was a cemented interest... Still, that secret follower bided her time, at least until she could finally tell which of these disguised wimps was the actual one she wanted. Honestly, if this group of mortals is looking the part, they should've acted it: not this clear huddling together in terror, but more like a predatory pack slinking about for its next meal-- or for some local sap or two to torment for personal amusement. Hopefully, they wouldn't clue in any other schmucks to their faux demonic-ness, as it'd be a pain to end up "protecting" the wrong soul and having the right one be taken by someone else instead… 

Oh well, they have to run out of those leaves soon or have some other reason to finally become fully visible again. Plus, Claire's stalker is now wearing her replicated skin, so that should send the message: "Make sure ya don’t accidentally grab this one, or I grab that heart straight outta your chest." Well, whatever heart-equivalent, anyhow…  Or, another beast could tag along and help the stalking demon out. Not that she needed it, but having helpers interested in the "other options" just meant working the preferred smarter over harder. For now, though, she’ll just continue following the little runt and her pals...

Back to the walking souls themselves, none of them had any words to share. It's as if they feared nullifying their disguises by risk of "not sounding the part." In reality, Gerald would've warned them if voices were enough to expose oneself, meaning more a lack of motivation and anything worth speaking over. That, and the repeating of Gerlad's words took greater priority within their minds than anything else. Some of those recalled words stood out more, holding greater importance from the fear they churned their stomachs with. The arguable worst offender: "They're going to be physically affected as if they're still alive, but they can't die?" That meant no matter what happened to them, there wouldn’t be much hope for even basic mercy at the very least. They could have every limb torn off and suffer the agony of bleeding out those stumps; they could be nailed in cruel crucifixion and made to see their entrails hang out from severed torsos; and that’s only two options of infinite possibilities... Hopefully, any possible demons would prefer just having their souls to absorb and bodies to control, rather than any interest in playing with their food beforehand.

Honestly, it's best not to think about what these demons could do (and would) and focus more on their return home. They simply needed to stay alive long enough to follow these strings on their index fingers, right? The group hoped it wouldn't be possible for the strings to somehow get cut on their own or by something malicious, but the reaper would've likely warned them of that. Plus, these strings sounded as important to their potential hunters: essentially, no strings, no proper body access. Oh no, the demons couldn't see them, could they? That'd be a dead giveaway to any imposters amongst them! Then again, that wasn't warned toward them, either...

They just hope they understand and accomplish all they'd need for easy survival. They stop when they come across a large ravine of streaming water. Great, their strings showed them where to go, but it'd really be helpful if they could also just pull them over any obstacles. Well, unless they feel like using that 'immortality' for endless drowning and infinitely smashing their bodies, they'd best find some way past the roaring waters. Sarah turns to Claire, making the noticing pup bite her lip and hang her wolf ears (and her dog skin’s pair) atop her head.

"Hey, you said you're good at 'water-related stuff,' right?" Sarah points a thumb to the river, "That better include getting over it..."

"Actually, I can get us over it," Alexis waves her hoof, "I dunno if I wanna risk scrambling anyone in portals yet... But I can try and make something to get across!"

"Then what're you waiting for?!" Sarah huffs, "Hurry up and do it-- and make something that takes us all the way to the end, while you're at it!"

"Um, I dunno if I can do that much..." Alexis puts her arms behind herself, holding them and shifting the dirt with her foot, "I still don't know the whole layout of this place..."

"Whatever..." Sarah rolls her eyes, "Just get us closer to our bodies."

Alexis raises both hooves toward the water: the nearby tree responds to her corn powers, bending and extending itself over the rapids. With their new wooden bridge, the group proceeds to cross. Jimmy helps Claire and Alexis onto it, while Seve and Sarah manage on their own. While the others stand upright and hold their arms out, Claire walks on all fours and digs her paws' claws into the wood. Hmm, quadrupedal walking? Bingo, that dog-beast is what Claire's posing as. Her demonic stalker didn't recall any of the other four getting down on all their limbs, but that's exactly how Claire ran away after feeling the entity's literally chilling presence-- and even how she "snuck" out of that village and the shop she was visibly taken into.

Probably not a smart idea to jump her while they're all on that tree, lest this other wolf ends up taking a dip with the runt. Plus, it'll probably be a lot more fun to obtain that wonderful new soul and body, after a little group swim down the river: seeing Claire and the others all helpless, all coughing up bloody water, and being all bruised and broken from whatever the torrent slams them into... Heh, it's making the demon giddy just thinking about it. She can't wait to see the actual results-- especially when their precious widdle puppy gets "claimed" in front of them and makes them wonder how horrible it'll be when it's eventually their turn. First, it all starts with a cut trunk...

The demon speeds by, while the world slows down for everyone else: the group's brains could barely process the sudden feeling of their feet tilting and bodies descending, before a cold splash told them of their watery fate. Not even Claire's swimming capabilities could spare her from a similar tragedy... The cold water and rushing, slamming torrent upon their helpless bodies disoriented them: they couldn't think beyond, "Grab something sturdy and stay up!" They try futilely calling out to each other, a natural panicked response: the young goats to each other, while Sarah and Jimmy screamed for one another. Claire's mind finally yelled at her to just do a rounder "survival float": tuck her body into itself like a “cannonball” and just shield her head, staying afloat and lessening the risk of being knocked out. She felt herself being pushed down into the water, yet she remained in her pose and awaited the inevitable bob back up; however, a desperate Seve remained clinging and gasping atop his floatation device. Better able to focus now, he spots the spinning and floundering Alexis, grabbing one of her flailing wrists and pulling her over.

"Alexis…! Do something to get us outta here…!!"

"But where's everyone else?!"

"Focus on us, then worry about 'em!"

Alexis knew he had a point: she can't exactly save anyone else if she's still in the water's cruel grip herself... She fights the dizziness caused by the spinning nature of whatever they saved themselves upon, trying to decide on what to do. She spots an oncoming tree and decides that maybe if one got them into this mess... She raises a hoof and makes it bend down, allowing the goats to grip the branches and pull themselves up. That's when they spotted their saving item's true identity, as she continued her way down the torrent.

"Seve, that was Claire!!"

"Just do somethin' else to save her, too, then!"

Alexis holds out a hoof again and moves it up, making Claire's portion of water geyser onto land. The goats then hop onto the ground, while Claire gets onto all fours again and shakes herself in typical canine fashion. Alexis scans the waters for Sarah and Jimmy, but they're nowhere to be seen. Her braced overbite presses into her lower lip. Claire also looks around, equally curious on the whereabouts of all; but her wide blues can only focus on the caprine presence. Seve himself is more focused on realizing their current location: they're still on the outskirts of the forest, but now on the other side of that accursed river.

"Great," the boy groans, "I think we lost everythin' but these skins..."

"Seve, forget the things," Alexis still scans the waters, "focus on the people: like where Sarah and Jimmy went!"

"Well, I don't see 'em..." he motions a thumb to Claire, "All we got's a kid that can't decide on bein' human or wolf..."

Claire perks up. Jimmy could still be drowning and floundering?! The pup starts sniffing, but she can't pick up on anything... She doesn't know if her nose is still waterlogged or if he's just nowhere near. She tries running in the direction the water still rages, and Alexis follows suit.

"No, wait...!" the doe pleads, "We should stick together!"

Seve follows, "Hey, follow your own advice...!"

Claire stops at the end of a waterfall, looking over the edge and having her shakey blues scan the high drop into the hiding mists below. The goats also glance down, on either side of her.

Alexis whimpers, "No..."

"Uh... Yeah..." Seve gulps, "I think it's safe to say they're screwed..."

Even if Sarah and Jimmy couldn't die with everyone's current state, such a distant bottom would still see: their bones crushed, their limbs twisted, and all else that's required to leave them a helpless and pained mess for whatever demon could be prowling down below... Claire runs away, looking for some path that'll quickly take her down to Jimmy's side. If she could, she'd still save Sarah, too, as it's only the right thing to do and what Jimmy would want for his seeming friend.

"Claire, stop leaving us behind!" Alexis chases her again, "Seve, are we sure we can't--"

"Don't put a leash on her!" he also runs, "That'd still be creepy...!"

Claire keeps running-- until Alexis jumps onto her and makes her collapse. Alexis has always been good at chasing down and catching a much stronger Seve... Claire tries to stand on all fours again, looking at who just jumped her.

"Claire, be a good girl and stay with us, okay...?" Alexis pats her head, "I'm worried about them, too, but you'll probably be in a lot more trouble if you're all alone..."

Claire's obedient side serves as one reason she stood still, the other reason is her uncertainty of how to even get down there...

"Yeah, stay..." Alexis smiles and pats her head again, before finally getting off Claire, "Good girl..."

Despite Claire's fearful worry, her wolf tail naturally wags at the phrase. She always did like and was raised to be a good little pup for others... Alexis couldn't help but admire Claire's adorable tic, but her frown returned when her mind went to Sarah and Jimmy. Darn it, why didn't she just use her corn powers to blast them all out of the water...? If only the shock of that coldness and sudden drowning didn't distract her, she might've been able to keep them all together and save everyone. Oh no, did that make it her fault if Sarah and Jimmy's separation ended up with... "farewells" at demon hands?

"So, now what?" Seve asks, "Do we just try findin' some way down there, or do we just consider it a lost cause? It ain't like we even saw a bottom, let alone any way to get down there..."

"... I-I don't know..." Alexis whimpers, "But we promised we'd all stay together, so we should try to..."

"But how the heck are we gonna get down there...?"

"Well, maybe there's a path or something nearby?"

Alexis then looks at Claire, smiling with an idea.

"Claire, stay like that, okay...?" Alexis climbs onto her back again, "No, don't worry, I ain't gonna hurtcha-- and Seve won't, either."

"Wait, what...?" Seve double takes, "Are you suggestin' what I think you are...?"

"It'd be a great way to stay together, Seve!" Alexis pats Claire's head, "It doesn't look like she'll have trouble, as long as ya don't jump on her."

"... She looks weird on all fours, and it'll feel even more wrong to actually ride her like some freaky pony..."

"She's not 'freaky,' Seve, she's a cutie! And you saw how fast she can run, so she'll get us down there sooner-- and probably away from trouble faster."

... Was Seve really going to do this...? Like Sarah, he's a tad squigged out by the human and animal combination, but Alexis just keeps patting Claire's back and staring at him. Ugh, he'll take that stupid and annoying grin of hers any day, than that freaky sheep skin over her face...

"Fine..." he groans, "But we're at least pretendin' that we're riding a full-fledged sled dog and we somehow forgot that very sled..."

A weird stretch, but not as weird as riding a (partial) member of a species that's not even meant for quadrupedal movement. Claire didn't really like it any more-- in fact, she likely hated it worse than Seve. She still felt off-put by the duo, and now they're sitting on one of Claire's most sensitive and vulnerable areas: her back's entirety. Sure, they wouldn't try hurting her, but to have a weakness not just in reach but literally right under them? On the bright side, if Alexis ever found out and got Claire to feel comfortable enough, the pup would be in Heaven for as long as Alexis wanted to see that tail wag from scratches and pets.

"Come on, Claire," Alexis points forward, "let's try that way!"

Claire runs, carrying the light goats on her back with ease. The two always managed to somehow alter their overall weight: it depended on matters like whether they're bodying someone, like Alexis with Seve, or being carried off by the back of their shirts. It’s usually a flailing and angry Seve needing to be removed, in the latter case. They stick close to the direction of the cliffside, taking care that they don’t wind up in another predicament so soon. … But were Sarah and Jimmy down below?

The man had actually stopped their own floundering about in the rushing waters: he made the perfect (and accidental) cushion for Sarah against a rock, while everyone else continued traveling down the liquid path. Sarah coughed and regained her bearings, scanning the area around her.

“J-Jimmy…?!” she gasps, “Jimmy, where--?!”

The muffled mumbling got her attention, prompting her to look at the man with his face slammed against a rock.

“Jimmy, we have to get out of here!”

The man mumbled something along the lines of agreement, but also the question of “How?”. … And with his face still pressed against the stone. Sarah then spots some vines hanging off the trees nearby.

“Jimmy, I’m gonna throw you out, but I’ll need you to throw me one of those vines-- got it?!”

The man mumbles again, giving a thumbs-up. Sarah carefully peels him off, using that lone arm to throw him onto shore. Thank goodness for that impressive strength of hers, but now it’s time for Jimmy to show how improved his had become. He’s still the physically weakest of his Cul-De-Sac group, but brain over brawn… Jimmy grabs the strongest vine and wraps it around a tree trunk, before throwing one end to Sarah and running to the other tip sat beside the roped tree. He runs with his end, turning the vine into a coiled snake leaving its tree of rest, reeling Sarah in and pulling her toward the tree with her end’s diminishing length.

"Thanks, Jimmy..." Sarah stands up, "So much for that goat's 'corn powers' or whatever being helpful..."

"Speaking of them, Sarah...!" Jimmy gasps, "Where are they?!"

"Beats me..." Sarah turns back to the water, "They're probably still floating down--"

"Hurry, Sarah!!" the running man drags her by the wrist, "Who knows what could happen to those poor children!!"

They eventually make it to the end, making the same assumptions about the bottomless mist below.

"Sarah, we have to get down there!!"

"How, Jimmy? It's nothing but a clear drop!"

"Uh... This way!"

Two goats and one pup touched land again on one side, the two humans touched land on the other: both groups would be headed in opposite directions and assuming the worst. However, the human adults weren't any more "alone" on their side, regarding demonic presences… 

Two towering figures, standing above the treelines but invisible to the mortal eye currently, watch Sarah and Jimmy.

"My, Saniyah... Our 'fellow kind' down there seemed oddly concerned for others."

"You're right, Josue... A bit more than someone should for a simple partner."

"Didn't they seem to have a laughable time in the water, as well?"

"Yes, we would've been able to get out in no time..."

"And since when does one demon decide to stalk several others?"

"Let's be the ones who stalk those two, there's enough for us both."

"True, and it’s always fun to see how one duo fares against another… Even though we know who’d win such a battle."

They then shift into birds and follow the adults down their chosen path. When those skins are off, they'll examine what memories and all these souls contain, and see if they're worthwhile after all. Meanwhile, as for the entity that did pick someone "worthwhile"...

Claire's copied form continued keeping close, wondering which of the runt's four companions are also present. Hmm, if the other two are riding her, it's highly unlikely to be those taller full-humans but instead those goats. Oh boy, one-horned goats: the perfect show to watch-- provided fate is kind enough (or un-kind enough) to have some familiar faces around. Well, "familiar face and skull" more so, seeing as only one of the hounds had actual skin and fur upon her cranium. Literally crossing her replicated fingers, the stalking demon keeps her eyes and nose peeled.

Wait a minute... It's distant, but there's a faint sulfuric whiff. Guess they must’ve already been on the trail, knowing how they feel about those kinds of caprines... Ah, worth the possibility of "losing" her own target. After all, she knows the appearance of the little retard's disguise and the fake odor it gives off. Plus, how do you miss the obvious shortstacks making for the perfect markers atop her back; and who's gonna come to the realization of their demonic inauthenticity so quickly? Even if “whoever” could, how would they make a fully certain choice without actually seeing and examining anyone properly?

The disguised beast breaks away from the true Claire and her trio, hurrying toward where the scent is strongest. She skids to a stop, stretching Claire's imitated face into a sick sneer and then whistling.

"Here, boy; here, girl..."

More whistling.

"Here, puppers..."

… Who was speaking to them like they're mindless dogs? No time for offense to be taken, when the devil required more... "jello ingredients" for his rituals, though. Still, it's curious someone would speak so belittlingly and babying toward the fiercest canines of Hell itself. They approach the sneering, small form and look down at it, eyes shining red in different manners: the pair within a bare skull shining as bright rings against pure blackness, the pair within a furrier face shining its overall redness past blackened irises. To gaze upon such eyes was to witness the burning flames of Hell without actual visit-- if one could avoid instantly being snatched up by the sharp underbites lying underneath.

The large canids whiffed with nose and lack thereof, recognizing it as more than just a fellow demon. The attitude made complete sense then… Joy.

"Yeah, yeah, it's me, alright..." the false wolf-girl looks at the sharp nails atop her curled fingers, "So, anyways..." she looks up, "You can see I found someone interesting, but I think there's a couple someones that you might find interestin’..."

The hounds share a glance, pupils shrinking in curiosity. They look back down at the smaller figure.

"Yeah, a couple of goats, that's who..." she continues on, leaning against a tree and folding her arms, "You know 'em: furry, hooves, obviously in their 'Wah, no one understands us!' phase with what they're wearin'..."

... Where exactly was she going with this? The white hound snorted through his skull's hole of a nose, though their little messenger remained indifferent to the gust hitting her face and disturbing her replicated hair.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm gettin' there..." the false pup waves him off, then rubs her index finger and thumb together before her face, "Just havin' a little trouble recalling one, ever-so-crucial detail..."

... They didn't have time for this-- especially when they felt certain of a familiar and detested magical radiance. The large hounds turn around, walking off.

"Oh yeah, that's right..." Claire's twin folds her arms, replicating that sick sneer, "They had just one horn each. Weird, right?"

The canid beasts pounce before their messenger, their lidless eyes shrinking their pupils and burning a bright red, as the growls escape their bared underbites. They're fully faced by the other yet again, her face practically radiated by that furious crimson.

"Yep, it's your favorite, alright... After all, would your old pal Chessa ever lie to you guys?"

[End Chapter]

[cagemasterfantasy]

Eldritch Knight Ranking (5e)

Guide

1=useless

2=often useful

3=sometimes useful

4=perfect

Spellcasting 4 spellcasting is what defines Eldritch Knight. You’re limited almost entirely to Abjuration and Evocation spells but those offer plenty of options which work for Fighter. Be sure to pick up an offensive cantrip like Booming Blade which you can use alongside weapon attacks with War Magic. You’ll get just 1 spell of each spell level which isn’t restricted to Abjuration/Evocation so be VERY careful when picking those spells

Weapon Bond 2 very cool but it rarely has any mechanical impact unless you plan to throw your weapon or want to appear unarmed somewhere. Casting spells like Light or Darkness on your bonded weapon before throwing it means that you can place the spell effect at greater range and recall the weapon in order to throw it again. But this combo is both more work and less effective than most methods for abusing magical darkness. You can accomplish some odd shenanigans like bonding to oversized weapons or even siege weapons in order to freely teleport a massive object to yourself but be cautious about how much your DM will tolerate before they have your bonded trebuchet appear over your head

War Magic 4 with the addition of new cantrips in Sword Coast Adventurer’s Guide War Magic is better than ever. Using either Booming Blade or Green-Flame Blade in conjunction with the Bonus Action attack from War Magic deals more total damage than a Fighter making normal attacks at any level and offers tactical options that you simply can’t replicate by just swinging a weapon

Eldritch Strike 3 since your Intelligence won’t be as high as that of a real Wizard DCs can be a real problem. Imposing disadvantage will make your spells considerably more effective. This can enable some interesting combinations like hitting a bunch of adjacent enemies then hitting them with Sword Burst on your next turn or shooting a bunch of enemies with a bow then hitting them with Fireball on the next turn. If you’re facing single targets you can hit them every round with Toll the Dead and a weapon attack thanks to War Magic. Look for opportunities to put this to use but remember that War Magic is still your defining tactic

Arcane Charge 3 this is as much movement as using the Dash action so combined with Action Surge you get to do almost as much as you could in a complete additional turn (you still don’t get a second Bonus Action)

Improved War Magic 4 drop a huge spell then stab/shoot someone. Next turn capitalize on Eldritch Strike to impose Disadvantage and hit the target with another spell

Final Ranking 4 a fantastic combination of combat prowess and offensive magic Eldritch Knight is perhaps the simplest “gish” build combining Fighter’s excellent combat capabilities and durability with a splash of spellcasting from Wizard. While Eldritch Knight is fantastically durable and plenty effective they usually can’t compete offensively with Hexblade or Bladesinger both of which have considerably better spellcasting options but are nowhere near so capable of surviving in melee for extended periods. Mastering Eldritch Knight’s spellcasting comes with some pitfalls which are easy to fall into and end up with an ineffetive build. Since Eldritch Knight’s spellcasting is Intelligence-based you need to put some resources into Intelligence but it’s easy to invest far more than necessary. Many spells will depend on your spellcasting modifier so it’s tempting to raise your Intelligence to get better fireballs and such but this is usually a poor investment. You can get by on very little Intelligence by sticking to spells which don’t care about your spellcasting modifier and still be extremely effective. Remember Eldritch Knight is still primarily Fighter so throwing fireballs is a rarity rather than your go-to tactic. While it’s totally possible to play Eldritch Knight at range it comes with some specific challenges. Since ranged attack cantrips all depend on your spellcasting modifier you can’t get by on as little Intelligence as melee Eldritch Knights. You’ll likely need to reduce your investment in Constitution to make up the difference. But in exchange for that trade you’re better situated to capitalize on Eldritch Strike using ranged attacks to prime enemies for cantrips like Acid Splash and Toll the Dead which will impose saves made at Disadvantage. Once you move up to Improved War Magic you can shoot several foes one round then fireball them the next round and impose Disadvantage on their saves.