#as much as it's possible for Wardens to be happy anyway

[agonydearest]

The partners aren't the problem here, it's the protagonists I created. They're all hot messes.

Esmareld Cousland is a knife-wielding little shit who can't take anything seriously

Alexander Hawke is hot-tempered asshole

Damon Trevelyan is trying in vain to keep Hawke and Cousland in line

Hal Laidir is taking advantage of the chaos to try and pickpocket everyone

[pentaghast]

i still miss alistair tho. saw some screenshots of him in inquisition w the original alistair mod and almost starting crying

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Is there a chance you can make the yan! dorm leaders (mostly Leona and Malleus) react to their darling who acts like Jinx from Arcane? if you don't know Arcane you can ignore this.

Jinx Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

You are erratic, you’re creative, you’re always building something, and you always seem to be armed. Hanging from rafters or gargoyles, you fit right in with the colorful characters of Night Raven College. So it's no surprise that so many are enraptured by you. If they can survive you that is they’ll make sure no one else around you does:

Malleus Draconia

“You never cease to amaze me child of man!”

If you are not found conducting major renovations on Ramshackle, your spray paint your tag on different gargoyles of Night Raven

At first, he may not be too fond of this 

but when he finally gets to meet you 

He’s happy there’s a piece of you on the things he loves

He’s aware you're a bit of an outcast but it only means he gets more of your attention

Like with Silko, you establish intimacy without acknowledgment for personal space and he’s all about it

RIP to Sebek should he have anything to say

Luckily for Sebek, you’d sooner point a gun and threaten him than wait for Malleus to exact his own punishment

You scare most people away anyway

So whenever you have doubts or insecurities they come to him 

Malleus is sure to filter out anything that he doesn’t like

“Of course, your toys are appreciated by the student body. No one has died and the screams of joy echo throughout the entire college. Fear not, my love.”

His and your sense of fun and ‘what's okay’ is really skewed

It's so bad Lillia needs to be a father figure the both of you

But since Malleus is so….Malleus, he doesn’t always decide to listen to him

So it's quite possible you two will decide to bring wonderland to an end for funsies

“I’ve always wanted to give the world a taste of me!”

“And they will have it, my Love. Since I will it, your creations will be on everyone’s minds!”

Leona Kingscholar

“You’re such a wreck. I couldn’t call you an herbivore even if I tried.”

He’s mostly amused by your just bizarre nature

You probably first met because you jumped and continued to snuggle him

He’s also enamored with the way you so easily point your guns at the bigger guys in Savvannaclaw

From then on no one's going to question you

In fact, you're so unhinged the Savannaclaw students group around you like they do with Leona

And he couldn’t be happier

It's like you're the perfect accessory to his crimes

In the future, any scheme is proposed by you 

Because your like “If you want it I’ll get it for you”

He’s the one who has to reel you in

He starts having a problem though when people want to take you down a notch

Whether they trash your workshop or severely damage something big you’ve been working on

“T-they-! R-ruined it! It’s all destroyed!”

“I’m right here. I’m right here. You know me, I won’t let them get away with this.”

And he won’t 

while you’re curled up in the fetal position on his bed, he’s hunting down the poor fools who are going to be paralyzed by the time he’s done

“Y-you beat them up for me?”

“You’re my mate. It’s only natural I avenge you. Now stop crying and sleep.”

“Okay!”

Vil Schoenheit

“If only you put as much work into your inventions as you did your reputation.”

He can deal with radical personalities 

He works with Rook every day after all

But unlike his vice warden who is adamant about maintaining beauty 

you care more to build an invention that's going to ruin everyone else’s beauty

But he loves you still

Even when you have a hard time sitting still while he’s doing your makeup he loves you obsessively

“Darling, you left one of your gadgets in my suitcase!”

“Toss it this way!”

“I’m not. I know what your clicker toys do and I have a shoot today.”

He gains an uncanny knowledge of what all of your inventions do

And he gets just as good at dodging anything you throw at him

But of course, he’s not the only one under fire

Some fans eventually do find you despite your reclusive nature

And it's easy for them to threaten you indirectly through your inventive space

Vil will take control as he usually does

He’ll happily create an untraceable potion and invite the aggressors over to tea

And even when he makes them apologize he’s not giving them the real antidote

People from the outside will say he acts like your parent 

But he likes taking care of you

In fact, if you start trying to move on your own 

He tugs you back by your heartstrings

“Don’t you love me? Don’t you trust me, darling?!”

“Of course I do Vil! I just wanted to help pay the bills you know?”

“But Darling don’t you know I already pay for everything? Even all your inventions? Let’s not change that now, okay?”

Idia Shroud

“Oh? A fellow builder, huh? Maybe we can...have a bit of a wager. I’d love to see how you fare against me!”

You and him are two peas in a pod

Both of you are something of mad scientists

So you two are always inventing with one another

Normally in demented competition you both love to test your newest inventions with another

“Ah~(Y/n)-shi let’s make a bet!”

“First one to blow up is the winner?”

“And the loser has to be support?

“And the winner?”

“Hehe the winner…gets to make the loser reenact the actions from the R-18 doujin!”

“Awww poor ‘dia you’ll be so embarrassed when I have you reenact the maid scene!”

“Not as cute as you’ll be when I enact page 69.”

You two love wagers 

It’s Idia’s favorite game

To bet with you is the best

He could ask for nothing more

So its only natural he uses his newest inventions to torment whoever he was hearing through the bug he placed on you

He still gets shy but he can’t help but smile when you turn your attention toward him

“Mine! The winner of this game is me! You’re all mine!”

Azul Ashengrotto

“You truly are an enigma, (Y/n). I insist you join Octavinelle for the next year.”

He’s used to dealing with someone who is heavily swayed by mood

And he always has uses for your newest inventions

And since he’s always keeping you busy theres less of a chance you realize how much he shelters you

“Since you so willingly took up all of our commissions the least I could do was offer you this space.”

“Wow it has all the stuff I like in here! It looks so much like my room! How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess? I also made sure that I’d deliver your favorite meals at the correct hours of the day.”

“Yay!”

He’s merciless against those who seek to cut him out 

And he does whatever he has to to make sure they suffer for the crime of gaining your favor

he blushes when you're comfortable enough to sit on his lap 

he loves it all the more

And he promises to keep this as his special payment

All within the contract, you so easily signed 

He’s completely within his rights to do so

“As per our agreement, you can only build for me or concede and become mine.”

Riddle Rosehearts

“You have no rules or reason! Someone needs to whip you into shape and that will be me!”

He thinks your crazy

Which obviously means he has to take control

Forget about your love for explosives 

And forget about your habits with guns

“You’re royalty show some decorum!”

“Decorum? Forget that I’d rather be poor then!”

“Not possible. I won’t allow it.”

“Oh yeah? Than what do you say to my lovely Pow-Pow?”

“I say: “Off with your head!”

He’s intent on “fixing you” or at least encouraging a ‘better you’

And it's all because he’s grateful

When he was so used to keeping within the lines his mother had placed for him 

You made him happy with that spontaneity you just seemed to have

Now it was his turn

His turn to bring the order that you needed 

You needed him 

not anyone else

He’d sooner let your old habits return than let some plebian steal you away

“Fine I will let you use one of your…toys but I have a target for you. And if you do that successfully I can allow some lee way in your desserts.”

Kalim Al Asim

“Wow your exciting as always, (Y/n)!”

Leave it to you to be matched or even outdone by the prince’s optimism

He’s so enthusiastic about you

there's no reason you wouldn’t agree to date him

“I’m so excited! Now you can stay here forever with me!”

“Hehehe, Kalim I can’t wait either! Now I can show you all the cool gadgets I build and you can help me try them!”

“Yeah!” 

Even with the more violent results, he’s still cheering you on

Something that surprises many 

But should you try to expand your circle or become more adept at speaking to others

Something begins to snap

Slowly but surely the prince is making sure he’s your only close confidant

And at the end of the day, you’ll come to him for cuddles

Just as heplanned always wants

“Haha did you miss me today, (Y/n)? Because I missed you!”

[herotome]

Devlog #125

Hi-ho, Wudge here! Gosh! I missed last week's update.

Happy holidays from Herotome!!

I haven't drawn anything this year-- oh but hmm, I could do a quick edit, here -

Tadah! For anyone who hasn't already seen it, we got those 50 reblogs to make Warden shirtless! A pure version without the christmas lights went up yesterday, just scroll down my blog a bit or check out the #ro: warden hashtag.

I'm pleased with how much mileage I'm already getting from this picture, ha.

Anyway.

Seems like I'm gonna be focused on writing new scenes and drawing expressions for a while. They're some of the more tedious tasks for me, so I'll certainly be looking for every opportunity to do other things on the side - like coding.

Today I've decided that the LI sprites should have their eyebrows on a separate layer from the rest of their face, to offer me the greatest amount of variety in creating new expressions - and I've come up with a naming system for it, too!

I'm looking forward to implementing this. Eyebrow shapes have much, much less variety compared to mouth shapes, so I might even finish drawing every possible eyebrow for every LI sometime soon. I've already gotten a strong start with Warden and Mia's eyebrows.

Speaking of, I did turn in more expressions over on Ko-Fi!

Tadah!! Thank you again to everyone who has donated so far!

I'm realizing that in the set dedicated to Dia, Warden and Mia have the same mouth shape on the upper right side... A fascinating subconscious decision on my part.

Outside of art, I did write... once. Er, it went pretty okay. I'm usually the biggest hater of my first drafts.

I think my goal is gonna be to show off the abilities of all the characters as equally as I can; Warden and Jade have had their time to shine (during the job fair and flying MC home, respectively), and I think MC, Griffin, and Mia are gonna be queued up next.

I'll put the rest under a cut for potential spoilers and further rambling - as always, if you don't see the cut, make sure to check out my blog directly!

I have a good idea of what I wanna do with Griffin (it may or may not involve obliterating your rent debt, and I may or may not have written about that in the first-draft-I-don't-hate).

I've been thinking that this scene would involve a change of clothes btw, and did some fashion concepts for Griffin that I also don't hate;

I'm not super sure what I'm gonna do for Mia's eventual ~special show-off scene~, but I'm sure it will come to me.

For MC, I want to show off her relationship with the city, and showcase how qualified she is for the job in a low-key way. I recently discussed with a friend how Men in Black is a huge source of inspiration for me... Y'all know the scene where Will Smith has his interview and did things differently from all the other candidates?? I kinda wanna capture that vibe...!

And ah... I think that's about it, Herotome-wise.

Wudge-wise, honesty hour - I've had ssssome mild health concerns this year.

I don't want to go into detail; I want to say it's been like... nothing life threatening, thankfully, but a lot of small physical inconveniences that pile up and make it harder to concentrate.

I did rest a lot last week so no worries. <3 It's just that parts of my body have been weird and annoying, and I think it's helpful to acknowledge that the flesh prison can be a weird and annoying place. But I value it! And I'm doing my best to take care of it. Health comes first, etc, etc.

With this new year, I hope you guys take care of yourselves as best as you can, too. The person who's most qualified to take care of you is you!!!

Stay safe and keep warm,

Wudge.

[heelycular-manslaughter]

I've been working on a ttrpg inspired by Hades and Kill 6 Billion Demons, modifying my Lumen game, Luminous Vein. It's definitely still early in the process, and I have so many projects that this one is a bit on the backburner, in part because I hate figuring out random generation and it'd feel more right to have a more official vibe to it with art & stuff. Anyway I do however think some of it is cool as hell so I put out a poll asking people what they'd like to hear about; you guys chose my problematic trans rep, who I dont have much to say about that I didn't already put in its description, so I'll just put it in full:

Hollow, Goddess of Rot

It/its, she/her, they/them

Feared among mortals to its elation, Hollow is a heavy shadow of positivity in the pantheon of gods. It loves trying to find new ways to disgust and horrify mortals, sometimes going so far as to create minor planes to trap them in and play with them. It, however, is not a real threat to anyone; her domain only ever affects those that have already died.

While plenty of wildlife loves her, human cults are rare to form, but those that do are often social outcasts, finding beauty in not just the way rot provides new life, but to death on its own merit.

Hollow is the shambling corpse of the first dead god, born in the abyss that could not be filled by anyone else. Its skin is grey and thin, tearing at the joints; its eyes have long been forgotten by physical existence; its form is too old and rotted to make out what the dead god once looked like. There's a gaping hole in the center of her neck, leaving its voice whispy, almost pained. They have a series of spindly, metal legs modeled by Eralth, the God of Craft, to support their slowly withering divine legs. Smaller beings of rot reside in the fungi and holes growing around their flesh. Hollow is extremely proud of the body they claimed, and, even as the gods respond to her presence with discomforted silence at best, they will all admit that she shows more joy than the first dead god ever did, or most other gods in the pantheon, for that matter.

Hollow loves dead things and is, therefore, happy to help runners escape hell so they can fulfill their full potential as dead things. She only shows confusion when asked for clarification.

Core Mechanic: Rot

When enemies inflicted with rot die, their bodies will remain to fight alongside you, becoming undead. Undead have the same actions made on the GM turn, but directed at enemies, and their health is based on how much rot you inflicted on them.

Boons of Hollow:

Rotting Wounds: Your weapon attacks inflict 1 rot

Trail of Death: Inflict 3 rot when you move away from an enemy

Decay: When you kill an enemy with an attack requiring 2 actions, they are given 1 rot

Spores: Your cast inflicts 2 rot to all enemies in Close range of the target.

Contagion: All undead attacks inflict 1 rot.

Self-Actualization: You can choose to target actions or casts on yourself, dealing harm but giving you any included rot effects as well.

Angry Dead: All undead deal +1 harm

Slough: Living targets inflicted with rot will take +1 harm.

Probably should've guessed the website with all the freak transgenders would vote for the freak transgender, now everything after her is gonna be a letdown. This is my best girl and also literally me so if anyone is mean to her I'll kill yo u

I'm not entirely sure how many possible boons I want the gods to have, Hades has a massive swathe of them but it turns out that can be kinda hard. I might add more mechanics to the core combat system to play with, the big issue I'll have to deal with is the randomness and the fact that the upgrades aren't weapon specific

Congrats! You read this far! or scrolled down and clicked words! You are now granted voting rights on what I should bring up next. if you want

[the-final-sif]

Big Brain: Nobody ELSE knows that Sam’s a Warden hybrid either. So nobody is there to explain what the FUCK just happened, or why Sam is suddenly so happy. Certain people are now convinced that Dream has somehow mind-controlled him.

Mega Brain: Punz is the only one who knows. Dream suggested this and he went along with it just to see what would happen.

Galaxy Brain: This is all part of Punz’s TRUE master plan, because he took one look at Sam’s sexually repressed ass and one look at Dream’s sleep-deprivation-fuelled conspiracy board and decided that they both really need to get laid.

Ultra Mega Galaxy Brain: Wilbur (who gets revived at some point) is the only person to immediately put two and two together as to what happened, and has decided to Cause Problems a la declaring HIMSELF Dream’s one true love and being the first of the months-long series of cockblocks to actively be attempting to stop Sam from getting laid. A side plot begins with Punz trying to stop Wilbur from interfering with his master plan.

I see all of this and I raise you:

c!Punz isn't the only person on the server who knows; Ponk is the only person on the server who knows. Punz has no idea. He's extremely worried about c!Sam hiding away and not allowing visitors into the prison.

Meanwhile c!Ponk is totally chill because he and Sam talked all of this out, and he's just happy that Sam found a second partner whose into the whole getting locked in a prison for awhile thing. It was never something that Ponk wanted, and there's no jealousy there since they talked it out.

The problems start when c!Wilbur gets revived (c!Sam very nicely asks c!Dream to do it b/c c!Tommy won't stop trying to break into the prison and he's hoping this will keep Tommy away), and decides that Dream is his One True Love who he needs to rescue from the evil prison. Wilbur recruits Punz in his quest, and keeps trying to break into the prison but he's kinda shit at it.

Meanwhile c!Ponk 100% knows what they're up to, but thinks it's funny and hey, isn't part of the tradition warding off any other possible suitors? This is Sam's job and he wouldn't be much of a Warden if he didn't have anything to ward against!

Anyways while all of this is happening c!Dream is just trying to figure it out what it means when c!Sam is obviously wearing cologne and put a bowtie on his prison warden armor set.

[invinciblerodent]

I know this is a hardish question bc probably depends on game factors, but as it is rn you the brain sauce

Do you think Emmerich notices right away that Tristan isn’t alive in the same sense as pm everyone else? Or is he like quicker than others to notice? I assume Tristan isn’t quick to explain the full truth of his… condition.

(Sorry if I seem obsessed, bc I kinda am. I blame my adhd for the hyperfixation. Love the whole idea! )

Oh absolutely no worries babe lol, I'm just happy that you find the big fellow interesting! ❤️❤️

Have a song I've been listening to a lot over the past few days and have kinda started associating it with him-

(this, as well as "Ghost" by the same guy, very Tristan-coded to me, only this one also has that soft, deep-voiced crooning in "Orlesian" in the middle there that's. Very A+.)

I honestly feel a bit more "free" headcanoning and rambling on about this guy and this story than about anyone else, specifically because the base idea is kind of on the sillier side? Like, I feel fairly confident ~~hazarding a guess~~ that there's not going to be a subplot in the actual game about the main character needing to hide that actually, they're kind of, sort of a zombie, lol.

So while I'm intentionally keeping my girls vague (beyond "very autistic bisexual elf rights activist", "viking pirate lesbian(?) dwarf", and "tiny dommy mommy"), I'm like, fairly sure that I was gonna need to do extensive rewrites and annotations to the game to make this one work anyway, so I'm not super concerned if I end up needing to "retcon" something I think about now.

What I was thinking so far is that Tristan, as of the beginning, could count on one hand the number of people he's told about his "condition" over the past two decades, and of those people, he's not sure if there's even one still left alive. (Maybe a fellow Warden healer, someone who's patched him up enough times to catch on that something is fishy? Maybe the longest and most serious relationship of his adult life that ended tragically one way or another? I'll have to brainstorm that one)

So as a Grey Warden, Tristan spends a lot of his life traveling alone (which suits him just fine), and quite often, the preternatural survivability and even the unusually thick blood can be reasoned away with "it's a Warden thing, don't worry about it, we're all like this". Most people will believe it, and aren't very quick to jump to conclusions that shouldn't be possible.

Except maybe those who are intimately familiar with death, spirits, and the undead. And are, yknow, actual professors of the occult.

So I think it's not exactly a closely guarded secret, but one Tristan wouldn't reveal unless absolutely necessary- and for as long as possible, none of the companions would know, but Emmrich would absolutely suss him out on his own.

Regardless of whether there's been any light flirting before then, I like to kind of imagine there being a singular moment --perhaps after a hit taken too close, maybe in defense of him, when the odd, stale, almost slightly mildewy scent of Tristan's blood hits Emmrich's nose the first time-- when their eyes meet, and there's this Moment of mutual recognition. This "oh shit, I know what you are."- "oh shit, he knows what I am.".

I of course don't know, like, the particulars of his character, but from his tone in the blurbs and the short stories, I assume that if pulled aside afterwards and asked sincerely, Emmrich would be willing to keep it a secret- and that he would immediately feel intense scholarly interest.

I mean, Tristan is an anomaly: by all means, he should not exist. The undead of Thedas are created via possession, and his body has not been possessed by any spirit, and isn't being controlled by anything. He seems whole, hale, and himself (not a darkspawn, either), he breathes, eats, sleeps, heals and bleeds pretty much as normal, and the things that aren't quite normal, are still not outside of the realm of possibility: many completely normal people breathe and blink slower than average, many people prefer their meat on the rarer side, many people have troubles falling and staying asleep. Nothing about him on its own is indicative of anything strange, and yet he is intelligent undead! Just the fact that he can speak in a way that is convincingly human is incredible!

I want to believe that Emmrich (like many of us are about our blorbos) would immediately kind of be like "I want to study you under a microscope." (paraphrased ofc) (Is he the playful kind? Would he jokingly paint studying Tristan as repayment for his silence? Who knows! It's fun either way!)

And at first, Tristan would be hesitant (it's awkward, to be under such scrutiny, and to have his whole Situation upended and dissected like that, especially by someone he probably already considers somewhat intimidating, in a handsome, charming sort of way), but even if it's not suggested, he'd consider it repayment for keeping it a secret, and agree. And if I can make it work, I'd really enjoy for there to be an opportunity for a moment between the two of them that has Emmrich kind of like... "I have been around enough bodies, both dead and alive, naked and clothed, to not be affected by anything corporeal. I know flesh well, I know what lies under it, and my interest in this particular body is purely clinical, scholarly, and in no way romantic or sexual. This dimly lit office/surgery is not in any way romantic, nor does any sight of his body arouse anything in me. .......... oh, his nipples are pierced. That's not a good thing for me."

("oh, strong muscles shifting enticingly under inked skin." "oh, the big man is large in every way." etc.)

Something something hearing an otherwise abnormally sluggish heart suddenly beat faster at a touch, something something intense examination of all bodily reactions making them both feel both flayed and more naked than it should be possible, intense eye contact, oh in this kind of light his eyes do look reddish and eerie but I can't look away, and from there on I think it can kinda progress however it's going to progress in the game.

I am havign SUCH a normal time of it, man!!!!!!!

[ryuichirou]

Replies

About the RookVil drawing from yesterday, a comic from ko-fi and some other stuff.

Anonymous asked:

Hey sorry if you've answered this before but what drawing program do you use? I've been trying to find if you've been asked that before but the search feature is not the greatest.

No worries, Anon! It’s been a while since I answered that anyway.

I draw in Photoshop CS6 that Katsu helped me to pirate years and years ago. I also have ClipStudio, but I haven’t used it properly yet.

Anonymous asked:

In regards to your latest kofi picture, what accident is this and was Azul the cause of it? Also, is going to punish Idia for this? When Ortho is better, couldn’t he just blast Azul’s and the Tweel’s asses to kingdom come? Sorry for so many questions 😓

To be completely honest, Anon, the story isn’t very concrete and specific. There are some possible elements of what happened in my head, but until/if we come up with a proper scenario, I would like to keep it vague!

Here is what I can say for certain: after being separated from Idia for quite a long time, Azul is going to kind of take care of him, as in “it’s okay, you’ve suffered enough” kind of way; but Idia is smart enough to know that this is just Azul trying to make Idia rely on him again, so he could shut the cage door and trap him once and for all. Azul is also very good at victimblaming, manipulating and gaslighting + has will-power that Idia doesn’t always have, so even if Idia knows that Azul’s kindness isn’t genuine (Azul never forgets those who betray him), he is powerless to change anything at this point. He just wants him and Ortho to be safe, and Ortho wants it too. So even though Ortho technically could blast Azul and the Tweels’ asses, Azul is perfectly aware of this risk, so he uses a different approach on Ortho. After all, Ortho is a smart boy + he and Azul have the same goal: they want Idia to be happy, right? It’s easier to do it while working together instead of fighting!

Anyways, Azul scary and powerful, and at this point in the story he has a lot of useful connections including STYX and probably even Idia’s parents. A lot more strings to manipulate the events in a way that would portray him as a forgiving and loving saint, but still ensure that Idia never leaves him again.

And after this position is secured, then he might start punishing Idia. But in a way that is very subtle to everyone around them, but painfully obvious for Idia.

Anonymous asked:

Man, feral Rook really does just hit different doesn't he? That latest art was just so juicy and savory that it made my mouth water. Just wanna chew on it for a bit like a nice steak.

Thank you so much, Anon! Please feel free to enjoy on it, and enjoy your meal <3

Feral Rook is a delight to draw, I like how unapologetic and animalistic he could be drawn despite being a human.

Anonymous asked:

And this must be part three of their first time together.

I told you I can’t stop imagining their first time lol

eh-nonnie-mouse asked:

How quickly do you think Vil became House warden after getting caught by roommates for the (insert number of times previously) time? Rook on the other hand...he looks like he just wants everyone to see Vils beauty. Or maybe this kind of beauty is only saved for him?

Vil is a man of patience: as far as I know, he only became a housewarden during his 3rd year. I have no idea how he managed to survive for two years (including their honeymoon phase!) with roommates… maybe the previous housewarden was kind enough to make these two roommates during their second year??

I’m sure Rook doesn’t mind people looking, but at the same time, he really might express how the beauty that only he gets to see is special… but it would be so greedy of him to not let other people see Vil like this!

Rook is actually quite good at being stealthy, but I guess he doesn’t always want to be…

Anonymous asked:

Ohhh.... but imagine if the ones that walked in on Rook and Vil were Floyd and Epel.

What sort of drama would that be?

Or maybe they'd just see it as an excuse to do whatever they want at that point.

Well… since it’s Rook and Vil’s first year, Floyd and Epel aren’t currently there, but if they were to walk on them now (when RookVil are third years), Vil would probably be rather annoyed or even angry than embarrassed. He’ll just scold and punish both of them lol And then he might ask them about why they were even there, in his dorm, breaking into his room.

Rook wouldn’t care either way, he’d probably heard their steps way before they actually walked in on them...

In terms of the younger ones’ reaction though, I feel like whatever they’re going to see, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise for Floyd – it’s like not even a secret. It would be funny if Epel got surprised though, imagine living by their side for a year and having no idea this is happening?

Anonymous asked:

Do you have a yuu?

Nope! Not really interested in that.

Anonymous asked:

Just want to say that Code Geass was the first and only anime yo make me cry. Lelouch’s death killed me more than it did him.

Very understandable, Anon. Code Geass is really very, very good and has a lot of heart-wrenching moments.

[pinkfadespirit]

happy friyay! for DADWC, perhaps "we should talk. things have changed since you left." for Anders/Nathaniel? :3

Thank you for the prompt! This ended up being more implied Nanders. I don't know if I'm getting across what I wanted to with this but it's fine! I haven't done this in a while so I probably just need to keep going until I feel less rusty.

for @dadrunkwriting

There was something surreal about being back within the familiar walls of Vigil's Keep after so many years away. How this place had once, for so brief a time, been a home to him, how Anders knew it so well but it had been so long and so much had happened in that time that it didn't seem possible that it could look just the same as it always had. But it did. For the most part anyway. During Anders' time here there had been all sorts of work being done on the place, repairs from the darkspawn attack that first night he'd come here, when he'd been conscripted and everything had changed. Those repairs were long complete and the investment the Commander had put into them had paid off as they stood strong even now. But, beyond that, it was the same, the same buildings, the same statue of Andraste Anders had once wolf whistled at while the Commander peered up at him in confusion.

The same people. His fellow Wardens.

His friends.

Plus some new additions he didn't know yet.

Once, the feeling of having several other Wardens around him at all times had been something he'd grown so used to he stopped really feeling it. It had become comforting in a way, being able to sense them nearby and knowing they had his back. The years in Kirkwall hadn't been like that. Unless you counted Justice. Which Anders supposed he did. The others he'd known might have backed him up in a fight, but at the end, when it really mattered... well, it wasn't like Anders was surprised by their reactions. The most surprising thing was that Hawke had let him walk away.

But it was probably better not to think about that now.

Anders shook his head, chasing the thought away and looked up to see Nathaniel peering at him in concern. Sigrun was there behind him. "You okay there, buddy?"

Anders forced a nod and a wry smile. "Probably better than I have any right to be."

Nathaniel didn't say anything. He hadn't said much at all since Anders had arrived here and he didn't know whether to be relieved or not for that.  

Now he forced himself to look into his eyes, and tried to figure out if he was pleased that Anders had returned or if he was wishing he hadn't dared to show his face back here.

He was hard to read, but Anders wanted to hope it was the former.

Finally, Nathaniel said, "We should talk. Things have changed since you left."

Anders couldn't help the slightly bitter, slightly broken laugh that escaped him, thinking back over the years, the spirit that shared his skin, the destruction they'd left behind them in Kirkwall.

And yet, as they passed through the inner doors of the keep, he still couldn't shake the feeling like he was coming home.

[tokyogruel]

8 for the ask game im curious >:) don't hold back

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

this one got long

im kind of in the smaller circle of fans that thinks mikoto is the best written prisoner and the best love story ever told so i really dont see much of this anymore- but,, the fear/idea/opinion that mikoto is a flat, poorly-written depiction of DID. he's not. he is the best depiction of DID i have personally seen. his CV has voiced at least one other DID-coded character

(kaneki ken, whose whole story is- and im sorry this is a long tangent- but hey my mom abused me, i do a lot of fawning towards the people around me. oh m,uy god i went on a date that ended with me being turned into a half-ghoul, i feel inhuman and scared. oh and now im being tortured and ive come out of it feeling like a completely different person with a drastically different appearance. im fucked up. oh when i get put into the most traumatizing situations ever i revert back to my "tortured self." i talk to past versions of myself in my headspace. oh i got stabbed in the brain, now im sasaki haise, a reflection of my past self who fawned a lot and felt more soft and human. and i look and act different again. oh fuck i got triggered horribly and i remember im kaneki, rinse and repeat until he finally gets his happy ending)

but anyway back to mikoto. he reads very heavily as someone with DID who is not in a safe position to discover his system, so his parts blend together to try and be as "whole" as possible- he is RGB and the color wheel, a spectrum. blue is a soft color, its his main color (though his official color "grey-blue" is very notably a toned down, dull version of a true blue). he is probably very detatched from the red-tones of his system, his anger and pride and distress, he acts like he's fine when, internally, he's having 40 breakdowns at once. he'll forget about the bad parts after a while, like they never happened! until his next breakdown, when all those repressed feelings and memories come flooding back, only to get shoddily tucked away again. rinse and repeat.

and then he faces something terribly traumatic- he murders someone. (which, yes, is traumatizing to the murderer too) that (and coming to milgram) probably sparked John's "birth"- the need for an emotional protector, and/or a new host. the parts of him that killed someone get shoved to the back of his brain by mido, greenkoto- his gatekeeper. but these parts still bleed into him, hence all of MeMe. his unforgiven verdict likely pushed away the main offender in his murder(s), and john took his new identity to protect mikoto from his new threats (kotoko and the warden), but after seeing mikoto act one way, only to act totally different (john pre-name, a budding identity, a new protector/host) his DID becomes way more noticeable. john is very blunt, his more emotional parts are detached. if he shows too much of them, they could get hurt again, and he cant have that

but pre-milgram, mikoto and john were not consciously aware of their DID, they were "single." when a system is forcefully discovered, the "single person" facade shatters, fragments become more apparent, and separate identities take time and effort to form a "person" or "people" john can not be born AND become a fleshed-out identity overnight, it takes time. (also im listening to neoplasm again and ahhh, he refers to his host/emotional parts/the blues of him as his heart. i love john so much)

aNYWAY I THINK MIKOTO IS VERY WELL WRITTEN AND A GREAT STORY OF SELF-LOVE AND DEDICATION AND HE IS A LOVE STORY IN HIMSELF GOODBYE!!!!!! GOODBYE!!!!!!!!!!!!

[waywardstation]

Heart Full, Bowl Empty

Chapter 6 - Late Night Thoughts

Ingo returns to his noble and her kits. Akari considers reaching out for answers. Irida has an important discussion with Gaeric.

FINALLY chapter 6 is here!! I apologize for it taking so long, life has been busy! But it is here, and on Pokémon Legends Arceus' first anniversary!! Happy first anniversary PLA! What a wonderful game that has given me so much joy, a fun community to be a part of, and amazing friends!

Huge thanks to @monsoon-of-art and @ingo-ingoing-ingone for beta reading this, the help and contributions are very much appreciated!!

OR read here on AO3!

Enjoy!

————

Keeping his head down so the brim of his hat would keep the recently-started snowfall out of his eyes, Ingo carefully trudged his way up Mount Coronet, holding his insulating coat closed around himself. 

The sun had since slipped under the horizon, leaving the highlands in a frigid, muted darkness. He had to be careful traversing the terrain with his limited vision. 

Proceed with speed, but not haste. 

As Ingo made his way up the familiar path, his thoughts drifted to what the Pearl Clan was possibly serving for dinner. Tonight it was Lian and Calaba’s turn to bring in gathered supplies, so he was guessing a sootfoot-rich apricorn soup was on the menu. Deeper roots were the most typical spoils of their gathering efforts, due to Ursaluna’s knack for digging.

He always hoped dinner would go well for the Pearl Clan on nights he didn’t attend. Irida didn’t entirely approve of him skipping every other night, knowing he was doing it just to conserve their food supplies. But she had eventually settled on this compromise after Ingo had insisted his duties as warden required him to stay with Lady Sneasler, to ensure the safety of her newborn kits.

“Lady Sneasler’s litter is rather large, with nine kits to keep track of,” He had explained. “And she requires assistance in protecting them at night, until they develop enough to fend for themselves.”

And she couldn’t deny him of his obligations to his noble, even more so now with what was starting to occur in the highlands. 

Though, that was not to say Ingo didn’t miss the dinners; the only thing that brought him solace was knowing that even if it was only by one meal, skipping nights at the mess hall was lessening the clan’s consumption. His efforts would not save much in the moment, but over time, Ingo knew it would add up. He was aware he still made a dent in their stock.

Despite it being all the way back when he was only an injured stranger to the clan, Ingo still remembered how Calaba would not-so-quietly mutter to Irida outside of her medicinal tent, about how he was such a bothersome extra mouth for the clan to feed. How he must have been from one of the Ginkgo merchant ships or the developing fieldlands village, seeing as how the clan’s two daily meals didn’t quite sate him in comparison to the aforementioned groups’ usual three.

But Ingo was not doing this because of Calaba’s old comments (and he knew her opinions of him had long since changed anyways, even if she didn’t outwardly voice it), he was doing it to help the clan. If he had his way, he would have chosen to attend only on the two nights a week he was assigned to gather. But, with Palina already doing that (albeit against Irida’s wishes), he considered himself lucky he was allowed to skip any days at all.

Ingo knew Palina’s reasons were more out of hurt than a desire to help; the clan’s scathing comments questioning her eligibility as warden had only recently stopped, with Lord Arcanine’s seat having finally been filled barely two months back. Having caught wind of some of the comments himself, he at least understood her desire to keep her distance, deny Irida’s pleas to join them for dinners more often, and give the Pearl Clan Leader no choice but to allow her to continue in her seclusion.

But Palina had the advantage of being stationed out in the coastlands, as far from the barren wastelands as one could get in Hisui. Judging by how many berries, mushrooms, and meats she always brought back to the clan, Ingo was aware of how abundant the food was down along the shoreline, even going into the winter months. 

He was also aware, like Irida, that Basculegion’s warden from the Diamond Clan was likely helping her with gathering materials and fishing, both for herself and for the settlement. Iscan was an exemplary fisherman, and the amount of basculin, remoraid, finneon, and octillery that were often brought back spoke more to his skills than Palina’s.

These were the reasons why Irida ultimately let Palina continue staying out in the coastlands, Ingo suspected. The Pearl Clan leader knew that she would be fine with Iscan, and that his help usually ensured the biggest dinners for the clan, providing an abundance of much needed, protein-packed seafood.

Ingo swallowed as his mouth reflexively watered, recalling the tasty white-striped basculin that Palina would often bring back. In his opinion, the finned Pokémon of the coastlands - mild and perfectly saturated with healthy fat - were much more appetizing than their rubbery, bland icelands counterparts. At least, the ones Gaeric always returned with always seemed so scrawny in comparison. And he had never tasted a highlands basculin for reference, not quite able to go through with the hunting process by himself.

Ingo wondered if at some point, his inability to go through with hunting Pokémon himself would become a serious detriment. Tracking for the Pearl Clan’s hunting parties was one thing, easy to do when Gaeric and the others would take over and finish things after he had helped. But when he was by himself and responsible for every part of the process, he found he could not bring himself to do it.

However, with his new job at the training grounds, he wouldn’t have to. His income was small, but it allowed him the option to purchase meat from Choy’s general store rather than face the ultimatum of hunting Pokémon, or letting Lady Sneasler’s kits go hungry.

Reaching the particular landmark of a split tree jutting out of the ground at an angle, Ingo looked around briefly but observantly. Making sure he was not being watched, he took several steps forward into the nearby shallow stream, before backtracking over his steps to turn right and push through some thin underbrush. He dragged his feet all the while, making his tracks appear more like an unappetizing belly-crawler, such as a paras, or a hard-shelled roller like voltorb, rather than a human’s shoe prints.

Something was out here tonight that should not be here, and Ingo would not have it following him. Something that had crept in from the icelands.

He had already waded through shallow spots of rivers and crossed over his own path a few times once he had noticed quiet whispering that was always the same distance away from him, no matter how far up the mountain he went.

Something was trying to track him.

Attempts to spot it were avoided (and if by some chance he did see it, he knew it would not appear as itself - the fact he had not seen it yet was a good sign. That meant it had not locked onto his location, instead only aware he was something of interest somewhere on the mountain), but Ingo could sense it out there, somewhere. With the way the mountainside was eerily void of any surrounding sounds from the wild Pokémon, and how the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, prickly and uncomfortable, the suspense was too heavy to be anything else. 

Ingo supposed his larger size compared to the wild psyduck and zubat, or his softer flesh contrasting the hardened armor of bronzor and nosepass, already made him a big enough target - there were only so many species up here suitable as prey. The bundle of cake lure base in his coat pocket must not have helped either. 

But he could easily hold his own with his Pokémon. It was where he was going that made it so important that he ensured he was not being followed. And he’d rather it not be aware of his tracks on this mountain at night at all, or else it would only make the following nights harder. 

Faint jingling that was reminiscent of a chingling or chimecho was discerned far off in the distance, but it still tipped Ingo off - the sound was familiar, but the tone and frequency were completely bizarre. 

It did not know the communication patterns. 

Ingo suspected the predator had taken to wearing the skin of one of these calming Pokémon to appear pacifying, hiding its wispy fur and keen claws.

His mind drifted back to the observational sketches he had seen earlier in Akari’s Pokédex, of the stantler she had studied. While it was just a sketch recreating the injury, the gashes had indeed seemed wide. 

…But certainly not wide enough to come from a wyrdeer’s thick, blunt horns. They fit something more like claws.

It had been bothering him ever since he saw it. While he earnestly wondered if it was the work of Lady Sneasler and her kits, Ingo felt his noble might think her kits were still too inexperienced to take on a stantler. And she had started confining her hunts closer to her den high up on the mountainside, to make it easier for her kits. Stantler did indeed reside higher up on the mountain, and his Lady had brought one back to the den more than once, but more often than not, the antlered Pokémon spent their time grazing out of reach at the base of Mount Coronet.

He was beginning to suspect Akari had witnessed the aftermath of a failed ambush from one of these predators that was now trying to track him. He hadn’t been sure enough of it at the time (Akari’s sketches were very good, but still not as exact as a primary account), but even if he did feel confident in it, he wasn’t sure if he would have wanted to share that with Akari.

He knew she would connect the dots with that. Maybe it wouldn’t be immediate, but with how suspicious she already was, it would only be a matter of time.

Again, Ingo wondered why Irida was so insistent that no one outside the clan know anything about what was going on. Akari said she wanted to help. And if anyone could help, surely it would be her-

The eerie jingling in the distance was closer. It was catching up, whether it knew it or not.

Making his way further into the underbrush, Ingo reached out and pushed away the overhanging fronds of snow-nettle that clung around the approaching ridge. The sharp scent the plant released when damp did a good job of hiding the scents of other Pokémon (and himself) from curious predators. And with frequent snowfall saturating it, the aroma was cutting enough for Ingo’s nose; he could only imagine how overpowering it would be for a more sensitive muzzle. 

Pulling himself up over a ridge obscured by the canopy of overgrowth, Ingo brushed himself off and gazed into the cavernous opening that stretched before him. He took a moment to catch his breath, moving to lean against the cave wall and rest there briefly, sheltered from the snowfall. 

That was, until a sudden bout of intense, low growling interrupted the stretch of silence and reverberated from the dark mouth of the cave. 

A clear warning for the lingering, potentially curious intruder to stay away and keep moving on, lest they prefer to be sliced to ribbons. 

Of course. One of the drawbacks of pushing through saturated snow-nettle. His noble could not identify his scent through the sharp veil, but she could hear his movements, and could tell he was something large remaining in the opening of the cavern. Though to some degree, Ingo felt a sense of relief that she concluded him to be a predator rather than prey for her kits - otherwise, she might have preemptively snatched him up in her hooked claws without warning.

“Lady Sneasler?” Ingo called out to the warm darkness in response, peering the best he could into the dim cavern as he sloughed off the snowfall that had accumulated on his frame. “It is just me. I apologize, I know I am a bit ahead of my usual scheduled arrival. It is too risky to go foraging tonight, so I departed straight here.”

Silence muzzled the growling, before an apologetic yowl of greeting resounded from the back of the cavern. Several smaller, sleepy chirps followed soon after - barely audible, but excited now that it was deemed safe to be vocal.

“Ah!” Ingo lit up, relieved to hear no sign of stress from his noble or her kits. He made his way into the cave, a hand tracing the wall as the tunnel angled downward into her warm den, so he could get his bearings until his eyes adjusted. “I will be right in, my Lady.”

The walls tapered from a wide opening into a tighter squeeze the further he went in - a cinch for Lady Sneasler and her little kits to maneuver through with their flexible bodies and limber bones, but a deterrent to more bulky, less lithe predators.

And while this extra barrier of protection and insulation discouraged these large and dangerous Pokémon, it also made for quite a snug fit for people, her own warden included. Ingo tucked his hat under his arm, sucked in his chest, and carefully pushed himself sideways through the narrow cavern tunnel, ducking as the rocky ceiling dipped down. A good few feet of tight squeezing rewarded Ingo with a chance to take a deeper breath again as the rock walls opened back up around him into a warm, dark cavity.

“My Lady, I take it you returned back to your station with the kits in time, last night?” Ingo brushed the dirt, dust, and any remaining snow off of himself, talking into the darkness as he situated his hat back upon his head. The tight opening of the cave only allowed a sliver of weak moonlight into the cavity, barely useful for vision.

“Snnnr,” a growl of affirmation followed, though it sounded incredibly remorseful as well. Ingo could see the soft glint of light reflecting off of Lady Sneasler’s sharp claws in the back of the cave as she clicked them together apologetically.

“It is alright, you acted accordingly to ensure the safety of your young. I am proud of your decision-making! Your kits are safe because you were with them. And… likewise, Miss Akari was taken care of with me.” Ingo reassured his noble of her actions as he made his way further into the den. The scuffle of his shoes against rocks and hardened earth in the darkness ceased, the rough ground giving way to the copious layers of soft nesting materials that enveloped the entire floor of the den. 

Ingo blinked as he slowly began to make out the inside of the cavern. The shapes of his minimal supplies were seen piled against the wall, a few extra clothes and blankets he had brought up for himself, for colder nights - thankfully, tonight was not one of them. Next to the supplies, he could discern the obscure forms of Lady Sneasler and a few of her mewling kits in the unlit cavity, but he was still careful when moving; he did not want to discover the location of a sleepy sneaslet snuggled under the nesting material by accidentally stepping on them. 

However, the choir of excited chirping thankfully made the kits’ locations known as their smaller forms shifted away from their mother. Making their way through the layers of bedding, they shuffled over to the warden’s shoes and collected around him.

They sounded hungry, as he suspected they would be. 

Thank Sinnoh he had stopped by the general store earlier, and didn’t assume the mountain would be safe to forage on tonight.

It hadn’t been, for several nights now. Ingo suspected most nights onwards would be the same.

“…You didn’t happen to take the kits out and practice hunting stantler today, did you?” Ingo questioned hesitantly, stepping around the mass of sneaslets with great care as tiny claws hooked onto his pant legs and attempted to cling.

The stantler’s gashes Akari had sketched were prevalent in his mind, but he also worried over the additional observation she had made regarding tufts of fur stuck in the antlers. He was concerned he’d have to check on the sneaslets or Lady Sneasler herself for scrapes or puncture wounds.

A confused but disagreeable snarl answered Ingo’s question and relieved him. No, they’re way too young for that.

“I thought so… in that case, have the kits eaten enough? I have brought extra provisions for them.” Ingo reached into the pocket of his coat for the pouch, before pulling out chunks of the plain cake lure base he had bought. “Assuming that… certain events repeated themselves once again, and that a final round of evening hunting wasn’t an option. I am sure they are growing tired of it, but I could only secure more cake lure base tonight. Though I can assure you, I will provide them with meat soon.”

The kits mewled excitedly at the mention (and scent) of another meal, clearly not as ‘tired of it’ as Ingo assumed. They crowded tighter around his legs, pawing at his pants as he held the food out. 

Meanwhile, Lady Sneasler seemed incredibly distraught at her warden’s question, sniffing as she clicked the blades of her paw together apprehensively. Her behavior, along with the kits’ enthusiasm, gave Ingo the answer he had been hoping he wouldn’t get. 

The warden’s heart ached for his noble. She was trying so hard to be a good mother. 

She was a good mother. 

She was doing her best, just like every other beast out there was trying to do for their young, but the current circumstances were out of her control. And with the kits being at an age where daily meals had to be small but numerous, it was hard - even with Ingo’s assistance. They were wild, just like his noble; Ingo could not simply tuck them away in Poké balls like the rest of his Pokémon, in a stasis that suppressed needs such as hunger and thirst.

It had been a terribly inopportune time for her to have kits, especially with a litter as large as nine, and the reasons why were growing with time. But how could anyone have known it would get this difficult?

“I… know it’s becoming harder to hunt up here.” Ingo tried to reassure his noble as he handed cake lure to the kits one at a time. Well, as best he could, anyways; the second he held out a chunk, multiple sets of tiny claws started competitively swiping to snatch it, and Ingo had to be careful not to get his bare skin nicked; he currently had no pecha berries on him. “But we will make do.”

A disheartened, animalistic huff and quiet shifting of nesting material was Lady Sneasler’s only delayed response to Ingo’s words, silently watching her kits eat from her warden’s hands.

The sneaslets’ eagerness to scarf down the food as he kept handing out more relieved some of the grief that gripped Ingo, previously pestering him for not being able to afford enough meat for them all. Perhaps he could have, if he had gotten the full day’s pay today. But no matter, he would probably have enough with one additional day of saving. He did not make enough money at the training grounds to just purchase ten sizable cuts of meat on a whim… not unless he sacrificed buying lunch at The Wallflower during the following shift.

Ingo looked forward to the night he could put together a nice hearty stew for himself, rather than make due with cake lure base. But with meager pay and nine wild sneaslets to feed, Ingo suspected that night would not come for a while.

Once every kit had gotten their fill of cake lure, now sated as they situated themselves within the nest and licked at the sweet sticky rice that stuck to their claws, Ingo carefully stepped around them and made his way to his noble. Rooting through his pockets, he handed another handful of cake lure base to her.

It was not meat, but it would do. 

“There is nothing to be ashamed of. It is not your fault, my Lady; the zoroark should not be traveling this far inland.” Ingo offered words of support along with the gift. 

Was it not enough that they were already stealing from the clan’s traps? Catching anything in those was already enough of a feat, with rarely any extra provisions available that were enticing enough to be used as bait. Resorting to placing non-baited traps on the sides of hills, based on hopes that Pokémon would accidentally stumble into them instead, had not proven successful either.

“Snnnr,” A discouraged huff rumbled in the thick-furred Pokémon’s chest, but after a moment, she sat up from her slumped position, and with her claws, cleanly skewered the offering in Ingo’s waiting fingers.

Hands now free, Ingo rubbed at his sore neck as he backed up and watched her eat, her sturdy teeth slicing through the rice dough easily, but slowly with small bites.

He told her this was not her fault, and he knew this realistically was not his fault either, but something still nagged at him. Even though he had absolutely no control over Hisui’s ecosystems and how they adapted to certain changes, he was Lady Sneasler’s warden. Her caretaker. He was appointed to a very important position by the Pearl Clan, a group of people he owed so much to, and was expected to do a good job dedicating himself to providing for her. And now by extension, her kits. 

Lady Sneasler was doing her best.

And likewise, he was doing his best. 

With a sigh, Ingo preemptively cracked his aching back to loosen it before he moved to sit down in the soft, insulating nesting materials. Dropping into the layers with bone-deep tiredness from the events of the last two days, Ingo rested against the cavern wall. The warmth of the soft fur, feathers, and foliage immediately welcomed him as he made himself comfortable, thawing any lingering cold that had managed to burrow its way through his protective layers.

This would be his last stop for the night, sleeping here in the nest amongst Lady Sneasler and her kits until the sun rose. And he was glad to finally rest - everything ached.

Satisfied with his position, Ingo retrieved the last bit of cake lure base from his pocket for himself, and took a bite. Perfect for absorbing the flavor of whatever it was mixed with, the rice itself was disappointingly bland and tasteless, the only faint flavor being provided by the barely-sweet syrup that held it together.

Normally, a handful of cake lure base would not satiate him at all, but tonight it was easier - breakfast and lunch with Akari today had given him the boost he needed to make up for it. And while it was not hot apricorn soup, or steaming savory soba, it would do. He may not be eating in a warm hall with the Pearl Clan, or enjoying his time with close friends at the Wallflower, but he was still with beloved company in an insulated den, and that was just as good of a situation to him.

“...My Lady, might I suggest foraging further down the mountain?” Ingo verbalized his thoughts on the situation following a moment of comfortable silence, wiping rice from his mouth. “I have noticed the magikarp traveling down south, to warmer waters by the Fabled Spring. I am not aware of the zoroark traveling down that far, or pursuing magikarp at all while hunting - it should be safe for the kits. Though, the alpha golem blocking the tracks down to the spring may pose an issue…”

Lady Sneasler clacked her claws together with a soft clinking sound. She knew just as well as Ingo did that magikarp were bony, cartilaginous creatures - the pathetic amount of meat they carried under their crunchy hides was tough and stringy. The highlands population would practically need to be over-hunted in order to yield enough meat for a single meal - likely the reason why the zoroark left them alone. And her growing kits needed good meat. They were developing into the age where beans and berries alone would no longer sustain them and their omnivorous diets. 

It was no longer enough as is, and both Ingo and Lady Sneasler knew it.

Lady Sneasler would not give up so easily though. Not after trying so hard to have kits. So many despondent nights, and heartfelt but worried reassurances from her warden, before she finally produced a healthy litter which she deeply loved. After all that, she would not just watch them get weak, and sick, and…

But what else could she do? The zoroark, bleeding out of the icelands and sneaking their way into the edges of the highlands, encroaching on her territory and hunting her meat, were leaving little other option.

They were mothers too, Lady Sneasler assumed, also having to feed their young. Why else would they be desperate enough to intrude on a noble’s territory? And hunt in such a cowardly fashion, stalking from the shadows and disguising themselves as disarming prey Pokémon in the middle of the night?

But of course, Pokémon who had already succumbed to cold and starvation once would be more desperate than anyone to prevent it from happening again, both to themselves and their kits.

This invasive method of hunting was damaging Lady Sneasler’s own hunting routine, as well as the routine of every other predator Pokémon this high up on the mountain. It was simultaneously thinning the population in the area, and teaching what prey Pokémon were left to hide away. And on the cusp of winter no less, which was already driving many of the more floral Pokémon of the area into a sluggish, withered state. They now carried even less nutrients in them than before winter.

And if prey Pokémon were being over-hunted, the top of the food chain would start reconsidering weaker predator Pokémon as prey before long. 

Lady Sneasler’s eyes lingered on her beloved kits, still focused on licking the sticky rice from their fur. 

And to think, she once thought having a den this high up on the mountain, close to the Icelands, would be a safer choice for her young. 

She might be a noble, a blessed Pokémon that other beasts avoided challenging out of regard for this, but this same protection did not extend to her kits. Not from the native Pokémon in the area, and certainly not from the invasive, desperate phantoms inching further in.

Her kits were growing stronger, faster, and smarter every day, but they were still much too young to defend themselves in an environment that was growing hungrier. She had to be quick to return to them at night or during bad weather, and slow to let them hunt independently. They were still learning to hunt after all, and that limited their options already. On top of winter approaching, and now this new problem-

But little was better than nothing.

So… magikarp it would be.

Ingo finished his dinner of cake lure just as a tiny mewl was heard, and even tinier claws carefully gripped the edge of his coat, a stunted feathered ear poking up over his side.

“Ah, Powder! Hello, little lady,” Ingo greeted the tiny sneasel. Powder (affectionately nicknamed by Akari) was the runt of the litter and the youngest out of Lady Sneasler’s kits, having been very late to hatching. Ingo let her climb up onto him and sniff around curiously into the fabric of his coat, where the scent of cake lure still lingered.

“I have no more food, I’m afraid.” Ingo let her know her search was for naught, shifting his position to accommodate her better in his lap. He presented his hands to her to prove they were empty, but she only took it as an offer to enthusiastically lick the sticky rice from his fingers. “Likewise, if I granted you seconds, I’d have to be fair and grant more to all of your siblings as well.”

The thought of possibly not providing enough dampened Ingo’s spirits slightly, but he had to remember they were at the age where they would always want more regardless.

“Snea!” Powder pouted as she sat back on his lap, giving up searching about, but her disposition quickly changed as Ingo gently pet her, ears going back as he scratched at the sweet spot behind them.

“You’re never satisfied, are you?” Ingo huffed a laugh as the tiny kit leaned into his hand. The smallest one always seemed to be the most insatiable with anything, whether it be food or attention. But as the runt who was often left behind by her siblings in many aspects, Ingo was inclined to give her the extra attention.

…He remembered that (Emmet) often relented the (same)(way) with the small yellow (joltik), letting the runts (cling) to (his) white (coat) and hide, and sneak extra (batteries) to them. Ingo would tell (Emmet) he was spoiling the (tiny)(joltik), but the runts’ love for the (attention) was (irrefutable).

…

He remembered that the other often relented with the small yellow ones, letting the runts hide with the white, and sneak extras to them. Ingo would tell him it spoiled them, but the runts’ love for it was…

…Ingo was inclined to do the same. 

Noticing that their baby sister was getting pets from the big man who helped take care of them, all of Powder’s siblings halted the licking of their rice-covered paws, and scrambled over to the larger warden.

Ingo sat up as eight more small bodies crawled onto his lap, chirping demands for pets of their own. They impatiently tried to shove their siblings out of the way, while simultaneously pushing their own tiny heads into his hands.

The petty antics and the quarreling taking place on his lap caused Ingo to laugh, and he lifted poor Powder out of the sudden squabble so her larger siblings wouldn’t accidentally hurt her in their rough-housing. She gripped onto his sleeves with her tiny claws, thankful for the save, and Ingo supported her body by holding her up against his chest. 

Lady Sneasler chuffed at the sight of her warden and her kits together.

It was clear; he loved them just as she loved them.

“They will be taken care of, my Lady,” Ingo turned to his noble as Powder latched onto his shoulder, retreating under the wide flap of his coat’s tattered collar. “Tomorrow, I will ask Tangrowth if she would like to accompany you, should you and your kits venture down the mountain to hunt. I am sure she would be pleased to offer her assistance; you know how much she loves the kits. With a capable grass-type like her escorting you, that alpha golem will keep to their own tracks. And, I suspect she would enjoy soaking up the last of the sun’s warmer rays, before winter settles… and please keep in mind that I am always open to assisting with the search of a possible new den further down the mountain, even if it is temporary.”

Lady Sneasler’s features brightened some in the darkness, an expression akin to a small smile driving out some of the stress she wore as she propped herself up on her elbows.

“Snea!” She exclaimed as she moved closer to him, having risen from her spot in the back of the den for the first time since he had entered. 

Ingo knew what was coming, but with nine kits piled on him, he couldn't do much to escape it. Instead, he scrunched his shoulders, and braced for impact.

A set of gnarled claws tipped Ingo’s cap back as a rough, sandpaper tongue licked the side of his face; an act of affection and gratitude to the noble, but a ticklish sensation to the warden.

“Lady Snealser!” Ingo snorted out a laugh, scrunching his neck further against his shoulder as his noble continued to express her appreciation. Moving to lick his scruffy hair, each comb through it with her prickled tongue left tufts of it to jut up at awkward angles. “Alright, Alright! You’re welcome!”

Seeing Lady Sneasler expressing affection, and their caretaker making various sounds they recognized as happiness, the other sneaslets stopped squabbling. Instead, they collectively started trying to lick Ingo’s face as well, eager to copy their mother. Even Powder joined in, peaking over the side of his coat collar to enthusiastically lick his cheek.

Ingo slumped back into the nesting material, using his hands to gently defend his face from the onslaught of rough tongues and tiny muzzles, but he was laughing, feeling loved as they showered him in well-deserved affection. 

Outside the cozy den, the lighter snowfall still rushed down, and a solitary white specter prowled about through the mountainous underbrush, having shed its illusionary skin of a chimecho. Its sharp nose attempted to find a new trail to follow, searching for an easy meal to snatch up after failing to stay on the scent of the lone human it had detected traversing up the mountain.

————

The rain came down, pattering against the sloped roof of Akari’s unit and sliding down the awning to splash against the saturated ground and collect in puddles. 

Akari listened to the muffled sounds against the roof as she stared up at the ceiling of her dark room from under her covers, Ember pressed up against her side under the blankets to provide warmth. 

If it was raining in Jubilife, it was most likely snowing in the highlands, and maybe even the icelands too. 

Ingo was surely in one of those places, she figured - she only knew he hadn’t gone to the Pearl Clan’s mess hall tonight. 

She hoped the snowfall wasn’t coming down too hard for him, wherever he was.

The insulating blankets rose and fell as Ember heaved a tired sigh from under them. Akari copied her soon after with a sigh of her own, hand moving under the covers to pet her warm companion reassuringly. 

For the second night in a row, Akari was finding it hard to get to sleep. 

Hypotheticals disturbed her, and kept her brain running through scenarios and situations - this time on what could possibly be wrong. 

Akari replayed what she knew in her head, revisiting all of the questions she had thought about over the previous twenty-four hours, and updating them with new information she had learned over the course of the day.

Volo had said that the icelands seemed to be suspiciously empty of berries and the like. She had noticed that herself, when searching for breakfast. But why?

And his more direct hints that the Pearl Clan had been struggling with food lately lined up sickeningly well with the morning’s subtle observation that Ingo had been… distracted, for at least a week. She had subconsciously noticed it, and Rei had inadvertently commented on it unprompted.

It also lined up with a lot of other things that had happened over the last two days, upsettingly so.

Like why Irida hadn’t wanted her at dinner last night, and why Ingo hadn’t initially invited her either. And why he had mentioned they were so against the thought of wasting food.

Why the Pearl Clan was prepping their fields for farming on the cusp of winter, and maybe even why they had all of those traps set out. 

Why the clan’s kids were trading away their beloved toys and trinkets in exchange for less valuable food.

Why Ingo had tried to hide how hungry he was instead of simply just admitting it, and why he had been gathering with Lady Sneasler yesterday, even though she hadn’t remembered him or the other wardens doing anything like that before.

It was probably even why Lian had seemed so stiff when she asked him about the wardens gathering. And now that she thought back on it, had Calaba brushed off that conversation as well?

And Ingo’s constant reassurance refuting this and affirming that everything was alright only made her more apprehensive about the whole thing; he always did that, regardless of whether things were really alright or not. To a point, it had now become more indicative that something was wrong than anything. 

The only assurance she had that he was truly alright - or that this hadn’t been going on under her radar for too long - was confirming that he hadn’t lost any noticeable weight when she had hugged him earlier. 

But that didn’t mean he would stay alright forever. Or anyone else, for that matter. Something was wrong. That much felt obvious to her now.

Just… what was it? Why was it happening?

Akari shifted under the covers, agitated as her thoughts circled back to Volo. He was the one who had openly said something about the Pearl Clan struggling with food. He seemed to be the only one who was being truthful with her about all of this, and the only one who could possibly give her the answers she was looking for.

She wanted to get dressed and go out looking for Volo at one of the Ginkgo Guild camps so that they could resume their morning conversation, but she didn’t know if he would appreciate sudden, late-night drop-ins like that.

Ingo never seemed to mind them, and he always welcomed her company with a reassuring genuineness, but she had to remind herself that not everyone was like Ingo. Not even close friends like Volo. 

Plus, the rain was coming down a little too hard for her liking anyways; with a quick glance out one of her windows, Akari could see the cascading raindrops rushing down against the clouded dark glass. She knew Lord Wyrdeer would faithfully come if she summoned him, but she was sure he wouldn’t appreciate her doing so in this weather.

With a sigh, Akari threw the covers off of herself and stood up out of bed. It spurred a drowsy Ember into attentively peeking out from under the blankets, and the cold chill of the room immediately embraced her in a rather unpleasant manner, but Akari couldn’t help it. She felt like she had to move, opting to pace just to try and dissipate some of the building nervous energy. She let herself fall into the cycle of treading about her room by her bed, the cold wooden floorboards creaking gently beneath her feet, arms crossed close and hands tucked away into her pits for warmth.

Ok, think… she may not be able to go talk to Volo, but she could try and work through things the way he would.

So, what would Volo possibly say if she was with him right now, sharing what she had observed? Her conversation with the merchant had effectively ended with him asking if she knew anything; he would probably try and connect anything she knew with one of his prior hypotheses.

…And one of those hypotheses was that everything that was happening was ‘another trial from the almighty Sinnoh’, as he put it.

Akari kept pacing, eyes on the floorboards. At the time, she had discarded the thought after some initial contemplation, not finding much sense in it - this was uncharacteristic of all the trials she had endured before, and it seemed especially punishing to a group of people who hadn’t done anything to deserve it.

Volo had also asked her if she had received any information about what was going on from her ‘perplexing device’, her Arc Phone. 

Again, she had also disregarded this thought at the time, perhaps even faster than the first one.

Ever since she had quelled the last frenzied noble and reported her success to Lord Kamado several weeks back, the device had fallen disturbingly silent. She had expected it to tell her what to do next like it always did, a new set of instructions filling her screen.

But nothing had happened. And weeks later, the rift was still hanging over Mount Coronet, a gash in the sky now often obscured by the rolling winter clouds. 

And the device was still as silent as the day she had quelled Lord Avalugg. 

It no longer talked to her. 

In her repetitive pacing down these beaten mental roads, Akari’s apparent dead end revealed a secretive and small, but hopeful side path. 

It was not talking to her - They were not talking to her. But she knew that somehow, sometimes, They listened. What if she talked to Them?

More floorboards creaked as Akari made her way across her dark room, back to her bedside. Crouching over her belongings, she fumbled through her satchel in the darkness until she felt the cold, smooth screen of the strange device.

The teenager held her breath for reasons not quite known to her as she slipped the Arc Phone out of her satchel, standing back up. The screen dimly lit up the dark room, the artificial light bright against her eyes as she turned the device on. Akari herself couldn’t directly send messages through it - she had looked for a way to do so several times - but They had sent messages through it to her before. And They had guided her when she needed it, and sent information at just the right moments, seemingly aware of what she was doing.

They knew what was going on, surely.

“...Hello?” Akari half-whispered into the silence. 

Soft rustling was heard as Ember once again perked up under the blankets at her voice, but aside from that, there was no direct, audible answer. And why would there be? The Arc Phone didn’t work like that, and Akari knew it. 

“I, um… look, if you’re listening, or watching, it’s been a while since I’ve heard anything… about what I’m supposed to do.”

The teenager reached up to bite on her thumbnail out of habit, the silence feeling heavy and awkward. It was difficult directly speaking to someone that didn’t respond back, even when she expected They were listening.

“It’s been several weeks now, close to a month since I’ve quelled Lord Avalugg. That was the last frenzied noble, wasn’t it?”

The floorboards creaked quietly as Akari shifted her weight from one leg to the other.

“...Did I do something wrong? I’ve continued doing research, but nothing’s happened. What am I supposed to do next? Or was that all I had to do?”

Is this all there is? Am I done? Am I stuck here? Will you not send me back home?

Ember huffed as she laid her head back down, snuggling under the blankets.

The device was unresponsive, its dim screen still unresponsive as ever in the darkness. Akari’s features tightened.

“I… ok, something’s going on, I’m sure you know about it. With the Pearl Clan. My friend, um, Volo… he says that something is happening in the icelands, and that things aren’t growing. That food is running low. He says he doesn’t know why though, and that the Pearl Clan won’t say anything about it. But… I’m starting to wonder if the Pearl Clan even knows why either? I don’t know. It just sounds bad. Worse than people will admit to me. Do you know why this is happening?”

The rain pattered down against the roof gently yet incessantly.

“Do I… is this something for me to fix? Is this what I’m supposed to do next? Am I supposed to figure out what’s happening in the icelands, and fix it?”

The screen remained dim. The device stayed silent, heavy in her hands.

“How do I help them?”

Akari stood there in the dark, waiting for something to happen. For the device to light up with a new message, telling her what to do now that she’d fallen silent, hoping it had just been patiently waiting for her to finish. 

But as the minutes went by, and she began to shiver from the cold temperature in the room, the unresponsive Arc Phone tightened in her fingers. It was becoming obvious that no message would ever come. The dim screen darkened as the Arc Phone powered back down, inactive.

Of course.

Akari’s frown tightened as she swallowed, and sighed through her nose, defeated. She leaned back down next to her bed and tucked the Arc Phone back into her satchel, before tugging the blankets back with heavy hands. Ember shuffled to the side from under the stacked layers to accommodate Akari as she wiggled back under them, and settled into her warm bed.

“I don’t know, Ember,” The disappointment thickly coated Akari’s throat, saturating her words as she felt her heated companion snuggle back up against her side. “I don’t know what’s going on. But something’s really wrong.”

She didn’t know what the exact problem was that was causing such a shortage, or why it was happening - why it was so hard to find good berries, why it was only affecting the icelands, or why the Pearl Clan was not saying anything about it - but something was definitely wrong, and no one would admit it to her. Not even Ingo. 

If Ingo was downplaying a problem, she figured it was because he was trying to protect something. This was not the first time he had done this, and it was always done to protect something, almost always at his expense, no matter how large or small the problem was.

Whenever one of Lady Sneasler’s kits accidentally nicked any bare skin of his, he would always do his best to bear through and hide the numbing effects the venom inflicted on the effected nerves (usually the hands, which led to a useless grip many times…very hard to hide that). He always tried to protect the sneaslets from unfavorable opinions that the Jubilife villagers, who were still warming up to Pokémon, might form about them.

Whenever he would get sick, he wouldn’t tell her because he knew she would come around to help him if she found out. And he wanted to protect her from getting sick as well, instead hoping he’d recover at least most of the way before she started looking for him - Hisuian illnesses were not merciful on their modern-day immune systems.

Whenever the deep pain from that scathing back injury of his would flare up, he wouldn’t say anything about it to anyone until someone (usually herself) would inevitably notice his discomfort and send him to Pesselle or Calaba, in order to protect his own… dignity, she supposed?

Akari blinked as she realized she had been staring rather intently at one of the Pokeshi dolls she had carved, sitting on her window ledge. As an attempt at carving Professor Laventon’s rowlet, the unassuming, non-judgemental eyes stared back at her.

Akari sighed as she realized how worked up she had made herself. She turned onto her side and slid her arms around Ember to embrace them like a warm, oversized teddy bear. The side of her face sunk into her soft pillow as she burrowed further under her covers, staring at the rainfall through the window by the door from the back of the room. 

…So who or what was Ingo trying to protect this time?

————

“Hey… Gaeric?” Irida asked with audible trepidation as she stacked a wooden plate, one of several from tonight’s clan dinner. With the meal finished and everyone having gone back to their warm homes (even the meal prep team, Irida urging them to go home and rest as soon as they finished cleaning, and to let her at least pack everything away), it was just the Pearl Clan leader and her former mentor in the kitchen. Cleaning didn’t take long anymore; there was never much left on the plates and bowls to scrub away.

“Yeah?” From across the kitchen, Gaeric was packing away various herbs and spices onto shelves and into cupboards. His back was to her, but he was listening attentively.

He had been waiting for her to speak up since dinner had ended. In fact, he would have asked her himself if she was alright, if she had gone on much longer without saying anything - he could see how stressed she was tonight, no matter how hard she had tried to hide it from her clan.

“Do you think I should be handling things differently?”

“With...?” Gaeric resumed packing away the supplies. He knew very well what this was about; it was all his mind had been focused on lately. But he wanted to give Irida a chance to get her thoughts out first. He knew her well enough to know she needed to talk before she could listen, and she had a lot to talk about.

Becoming the leader of the Pearl clan had delegated a leader persona of sorts to her that never wanted to show uncertainty or weakness. And to him, part of the blame for its creation fell on the more traditional, strict elders of the community. 

Gaeric still thought the expectations they all set on poor Irida at such a formative age had been much too demanding after the passing of their beloved Pearl Clan leader. The community may have lost an irreplaceable authority figure, but Irida had lost a mother, her last parent.

Irida was young. She was doing well for her age, he thought, but she was still learning. She didn’t know everything, even if she felt like she had to act like she did. And as her former mentor, Gaeric acknowledged this young, uncertain part of her that still had a lot of questions, just as much as he acknowledged her position as the respectable Pearl Clan leader. 

“With, just…” 

The words always came slow at first, and Gaeric knew this was a hard topic for Irida to be direct with.

“...Everything, I guess. I don’t know-”

Almost there.

“-Should I have opened the fields back up? Was I too hasty?” The words, previously stopped up, flowed freely now. “Because now we have to plant and manage crops in those fields, and that’s going to take a lot of work away from our foraging - work that might not even pay off! And even if anything somehow does grow - what if the zoroark steal those too? Is it not enough already that… that they follow our hunting parties and take from our traps?”

Gaeric closed the full cupboards, avoiding laying his gaze on the stressed clan leader. She continued to stack the clean bowls together in an effort to keep herself busy as she kept talking.

Let her keep talking, she’s not done yet. Don’t stop the flow.

“The traps obviously need guarding. But I already feel like I had them set out too many, I can’t ask people to start guarding them now too! That’s too risky, for several reasons!” Irida’s voice wavered a moment with emotion as she set the stacked bowls aside. “And… if the traps need guarding, then the crop fields will too, and we’re only a group of just under forty people, half of them children or elders! With so many already assigned to hunting, we either patrol the traps, or we grow crops… we can’t do both! And our wardens are already doing so much with their gathering, but it feels like it’s still not enough! I mean, look at what happened last night with Ingo and Akari! We didn’t have enough-!”

Her voice cracked, and Gaeric could already tell her eyes were getting misty without even looking at her. Stop the flow.

“Irida,” Gaeric’s voice picked up from across the kitchen, where he had moved on to hanging cooking tools back up on the wall. “It will work out! Everything will work out.”

Irida sniffed as she turned her head to face him with blurry eyes, searching for some form of reassurance in his. He could see the tightness in her shoulders, forcing the emotion down in order to listen to him.

“We’ll plant the sand radishes,” Gaeric rationalized, hanging up a chopping cleaver. “In every row! Those grow strong and fine all year round! I picked up extra radish starts just for this, along with my swordcaps from Volo this morning. We have enough to fill the fields now! As soon as the rows are ready, we’ll get the starts in the ground. And we’ll make sure the zoroark know to keep away from them.”

He didn’t know how they’d do that last part yet, but he’d figure it out with Irida. Their answers were usually found with Ingo, and Gaeric suspected that would be the case once again with this issue. Perhaps he could help guard the fields? But the highlands warden could only do so much, and he already seemed very occupied with the recent, ill-timed arrival of his noble’s kits. He wasn’t sure how much more they could ask of him…

Irida sniffed again as she picked up the stack of bowls, taking her time with moving them to an empty cabinet. While still despondent, she seemed somewhat soothed by Gaeric’s words of assurance. At least her voice was somewhat stable again.

“That’s still almost…three weeks of waiting, at the very least.” Irida moved on to another concern, beginning to stack the scrubbed mugs. “What will we do while we wait for them to grow?”

Fortunately, radishes were one of the fastest growing vegetables available in Hisui, able to be harvested within a timeframe of three to four weeks. But what could they depend on during that month of waiting time, as winter’s hold on the region grew stronger, and their stock depleted?

“We had even less meat in the soup tonight than we did last night,” Irida went on, staring into one of the mugs, her mind somewhere else. “and our apricorn stock won’t last forever. Do you think we should ask Volo about trading for actual ingredients rather than crop starts now?”

Gaeric held in a sigh. He had already asked the merchant that very same thing this morning when meeting with him to receive his delivery of swordcaps and sand radish starts. After briefly trying - and failing - to pry for more information, Volo had told Gaeric even if the Guild allowed him to make trades like that (he had made Gaeric well aware that the Guild was rapidly de-valuing their ice with the winter months approaching), he couldn’t possibly make ends meet with the restrictions Irida had given him. He could only bring so much up here at a time by himself, if he was unable to involve other Ginkgo merchants.

“And besides, the Guild cannot supply the amount it seems you need.” Volo had added with a concerned look that seemed almost surface-level, seemingly already focused on solutions. “We’re not farmers. We’re traders, and with the harvest season coming to a close, food is not a terribly common thing that people are trading right now.”

Though, to Gaeric’s surprise, Volo had offered to set up a trading agreement for them between either the Diamond Clan, or Jubilife Village, and act as the middleman - while it still was not a lot, the Diamond Clan was the main trader of food supplies and ingredients with the Ginkgo Guild right now, and Jubilife had fields capable of yielding a multitude of crops. Surely, they could help out for the winter.

Gaeric had known what Irida would say about this - no, of course not. And even then, Volo’s prices for being involved were becoming a little too steep for his liking. It felt like it was becoming advantageous at this point.

“We’ll discuss it,” was the only answer Gaeric had given. “I cannot make a decision like this without our leader Irida’s input.”

“Of course, of course! By the next delivery then, I’d love an answer from her!” Volo had responded without missing a beat, having turned around to trudge back through the snow, towards the nearest Ginkgo encampment. “She needs to make a decision soon.These things take time to set up, you know, and I’d hate for your settlement to run out of time… you’ve been valuable customers!”

That conversation had left Gaeric with a sour taste in his mouth; his supplier had seemed to be treating their plight like a simple game of strategy. He appeared eager to offer suggestions, but not too motivated to actually help unless he got something out of it, and this had only become more apparent with each delivery he’d made.

“I already asked about that this morning with him.” Gaeric finally answered - he was not motivated to share his recount with Irida, but he knew stalling it would only hurt them in the long run. “He said, all he could do was help us establish trade with the Diamond Clan or Jubilife Village, and he would work as the middle man-“

“-No!” Irida turned away from him again, stacking the remaining bowls before putting them into the cupboard. The task of stacking was needless, as she ended up putting them away one by one - she just needed something to busy her hands with. “He knows we can’t do that! And let me guess, he asked for steeper trading prices in return? Did he say the value of ice dropped again? Gaeric, we can’t keep doing this-”

“-I know! I was thinking about it today,” Gaeric cut her off in an attempt to keep her grounded. “And I agree, I don’t think we can afford his help. But…”

The Icelands warden paused on this last word as he gave her a sharp look, emphasizing he needed her to hear him out.

“...the idea of setting up a trade agreement with the Diamond Clan is… not a bad one. Why don’t we cut out the middle man, and try to strike a deal with them ourselves? We don’t have to explain everything that's going on, we can just frame it as a gesture of growing relations, and trust. Which in a way, it is.”

“I just said we can’t do that!” Irida’s voice swelled with emotion, but frustrated sadness was more prevalent than the anger Gaeric had expected. “Cutting Volo out of it doesn’t change what we’d be doing!”

 Gaeric crossed his arms, posture stiff. “Irida. The elders are not the Pearl Clan’s leader. You are. Things are changing. They need to respect your decisions, even if it means they don’t agree.”

That was easier said than done when Irida respected them so much. They helped take care of her when her mother had tried to fight off her sickness, and did their best to raise her after the sickness had won. They checked in on her when she needed it, and gave her advice that she still found useful to this day. 

She had grown up with their guidance just as much as she had with Gaeric’s.

So it was hard to hear them voice their poignant disapproval over her gradual efforts to tolerate the Diamond Clan and better relations, and Gaeric knew it influenced Irida’s behavior towards Adaman’s people somewhat, acting more standoffish than she wanted to be. If the elders found out Irida was considering going to them for help, expressing vulnerability and inadvertently showing weakness to the people who constantly disrespect their Almighty Sinnoh, they would… Well, Gaeric wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to strip her of her authority, deeming her unfit to lead by disregard of their traditions and ancestors.

But this wasn’t the time to be prejudiced, or to place the elders’ complaints above properly providing for the people. Gaeric himself still held some of his own reservations about the Diamond Clan, but he could clearly see the issue at hand was much bigger than their differences. 

“I hear the things they whisper between each other at our meetings, Gaeric,” Irida relented to her complacent side anyways. “This would make things worse.”

“Have Calaba go with you, then,” Gaeric advised. “They respect her.”

Irida knew Calaba would gladly go with her to discuss trading if she asked - despite being the oldest elder of the clan, she was actually the most open-minded of that group. Her developing friendship with Lady Lilligant’s warden had softened her outlook towards the Diamond Clan considerably, and while this friendship was not exactly public knowledge to the settlement, she was respected enough that her willing involvement might lessen the backlash from the elders.

Irida seemed to consider this extensively. The dark, taut look in her blue eyes lessened, the storm clouds behind them parting with a few clarifying blinks. She finally tucked the last bowl away, having gripped it in her hands for the last minute. 

“Yeah. Maybe I should.”

A few more blinks. The dark clouds returned.

“But… It’ll take time to set up trading negotiations, and that’s even if they agree to them! How do we manage ourselves until then?”

She was beginning to drown again.

“Well then!” Having finished with his previous chore, Gaeric moved across the kitchen to stand next to her and help her finish up her own tasks. He started sorting through the untouched pile of utensils, categorizing them together. “This is what I think! And listen, I know how you feel about it. But, it might be a good idea if instead of putting more people on the traps, we start considering bulking up the hunting parties for bigger targets. I’ve been watching Draugr’s herd out by Avalugg’s Legacy, and a few of the older piloswine should be easy to take down. We really should-”

Irida interrupted Gaeric with a distressed heave. Even the mention of that alpha mamoswine - that living mountain that terrorized the white wastelands - was too much for her to think about on top of everything else. Gaeric’s words died as he noticed more options were only putting more stress on her. He needed to stop piling things onto her plate, and instead take a few things off of it. She needed time to digest it all.

“You are Pearl Clan’s leader,” Gaeric reiterated as he tried to ease the situation, studying her expression carefully. “And I can only make suggestions; it’s up to you whether you want to listen to them or not. But, I say we should start considering bigger options ahead of time, while we still have the energy, supplies, and people for them. Don’t you think so?”

Irida wiped at the corner of her eye, silent.

“Yeah,” she brushed it off. “It’s just… a lot. To consider, I mean. These are really important decisions. And everyone’s telling me different things.”

Gaeric placed a hand on her shoulder, and she leaned into his arm, searching for comfort in the gesture. Just like she did as a child, when the new burden of leading the clan felt like too much for her. 

Both of them knew very well that with the way things were going, they were not improving, and Irida would have to start making hard choices that she didn’t want to make. But if she didn’t make the hard choices now, she’d have to face even more grievous consequences later.

Irida took a shaky breath. Gaeric hated having to watch her relive a situation so similar to her mother’s.

“You’re handling things the best you can.” The Icelands warden finally answered Irida’s initial question. “The avalugg will be ending their sleep soon. Once mighty Lord Avalugg arises, the zoroark will not dare steal from our traps! And our radishes can grow in peace! But until then, we still have food stocked up. The elders and the children are still getting full meals. Everyone is still eating every day. And that is because of the choices you have made as our leader.” 

Irida said nothing, but Gaeric knew she appreciated his words. Though he could tell something was still on her mind, nagging at her and telling her she wasn’t doing good enough. And he knew exactly what it was.

“What happened last night with Ingo and the kid was just an honest accident, and it was taken care of.” Gaeric attempted to pull the thorn out of her side.

“Ugh, let’s not talk about that.” Irida sighed into Gaeric’s shoulder, another release of pent-up pressure from recalling the massively stressful event that was last night’s dinner. She lifted a heavy hand to massage her eyes. “I’m still waiting to have a proper conversation about that with him, and I’m not looking forward to it.”

Last night, Akari's sudden appearance made her realize just how conscious she had to be of possible surprises like that. They couldn’t afford to have the situation strained even more. And Irida knew just how close Akari was to the warden, but Ingo could not bring her around so carelessly anymore. Not around to see the settlement trying to make up for its struggles, and especially not around mealtimes. 

And Ingo… she already felt like he was stretching himself far too thin.

And things hadn’t even gotten hard yet. 

Having come to their clan at the tail end of last winter, he had no idea how difficult things could get. And Irida had to admit that Ingo was a man of selflessness to a fault; with his habit of overextending hospitality, she worried he was going to burn himself out in his efforts to help. But when she insisted he not forget himself whenever he expressed the importance of helping the clan, he always assured her he was taking care of himself too. 

…Just like he did last night, at their headache of a dinner, where he obviously didn’t eat after an extensive day of hard work. Irida knew enough about Ingo to surmise that this could possibly become a pattern, and she was sure at some level, he was aware she suspected as much. 

The creaking of the back door slowly opening initially went unnoticed by Irida and Gaeric, but the sudden temperature drop and flurry rushing into the room caught their attention. 

Gnarled, withered fingers gripped the side of the door as it was cautiously pushed open, so as not to let too much snow inside. A moment later, Gaeric’s froslass poked her head around the corner. A crackly, yet gentle hiss of breath slipped through her human-like teeth to announce her arrival. 

Irida’s glaceon and her two eevee slipped through the door a second later, the pair of brown, furry Pokémon much more eager to enter the warmer room than their evolved equivalent. Gaeric’s glalie hung behind his froslass, comfortable in the cold and content with waiting outside by the door. 

“Eevee, Glaceon!” A genuine smile made its way to the corners of Irida’s mouth as she turned, kneeling down to greet her Pokémon as they rushed over to her. She pet their heads as they yipped, the three of them leaning into her warm hands.

“Were you all able to find something to eat?” Gaeric asked his froslass as she drifted through the door, letting it close behind her.

“Frss,” The icy Pokémon slowly nodded her head in affirmation, her cold breath failing to make any clouded puffs herself, but only making Gaeric’s more prevalent. She held one of her hands out to Gaeric, her fingers curled around something. When he held out his own in response, she placed a handful of pep-up plant roots into his palm.

Ah. The only part of the plant that was often considered too spicy to eat raw, even with ice-types. They worked wonders when included in medicinals, though.

“Pep-up roots! Thank you, Froslass. I’m sure Calaba will appreciate these; I’ll let her know you all found them yourselves.” Gaeric tucked the roots into one of his satchels for later. Froslass seemed appreciative of his gratitude, tucking her face into her hands in a rather bashful manner.

“Now… did you have any encounters?” The warden’s voice lowered some as he took a glance at Irida and her own Pokémon, still receiving pets.

“Frrrrssl,” froslass hummed, before turning her head back at the exit, out where Glalie was still waiting. She drifted over the floor back to the wooden door, and opened it with a creak to return to her icy companion.

Even between the small sliver of the frame and the door, Gaeric could see some of his Pokémon’s frozen coating had been harshly scraped off - claws desperate to break through and reach the vulnerable black core. Yet despite the damage, Glalie visibly perked up and presented an affirming smile when it spotted him through the crack.

Curse those hungry zoroark.

“Irida, are your Pokémon alright?” Gaeric called from the door.

A pause as Irida quickly inspected her Pokémon, checking them over and combing through their fur for any hidden injuries.

“They’re fine!”

Another pause as she realized why he was asking.

“Are yours?”

“Nothing that can’t be helped with an ice bath. Those zoroark can’t get through Glalie’s ice armor that easily!” Gaeric reassured her. It felt weird to admit he preferred it was one of his own Pokémon that was attacked, but he was relieved that it was Glalie, and not one of Irida’s more vulnerable Pokémon. It’s why the two of them always asked their Pokémon to hunt and forage together; it was safer with the zoroark prowling about, and Glalie was essentially their de facto protector.

Glalie would get lots of pets and affection from him later, as thanks for their efforts.

Irida stood up as she brushed stray fur off herself, her Pokémon still close by her legs, and looked around at the tidied kitchen in the chance they missed something.

“Well, it seems we’ve cleaned up everything. Thanks for your help Gaeric, I know you didn’t have to stick around and do this. You should go home now, and tend to Glalie.”

“You’re talking like you’re staying here. You have more work to do, or something?” A chuckle was heard in Gaeric’s voice. “You know, you can tell me if I did a bad job cleaning the dishes.”

“No, no!” Irida brushed it off with a small laugh of her own, the unexpected joke catching her off guard. “I just… I’d like to double check the storage before going back. Just making sure, you know? With the zoroark around, and everything.”

Gaeric normally would have told her it’s fine, or that she’d be checking for no reason. But after tonight’s conversation, seeing her so stressed and worried… she was doing it just for reassurance, and he knew better than to downplay that.

“Well that’s just down the hill! Here, I’ll go with you.” Gaeric opened the door wide for her as an invitation to step outside, and a flurry of cold rushed into the room. “And don’t argue, it’ll only take a few minutes.”

Irida took the stance of someone who seemed ready to indeed argue for about two seconds. But she appeared to quickly think better of it, and instead moved to blow out the few candles that still illuminated the room. 

“Fine,” She blew out the last candle, leaving the empty kitchen in a cold, dark blue that matched the frigidity of the night outside. Finally, she moved to slip past him through the door, her Pokémon trailing behind. “...Thank you.”

The snowfall that drifted down instantly began to collect in her hair and accumulate on her frame in an attempt to freeze her, but Irida seemed indifferent to it as she waited for Gaeric to shut and secure the mess hall’s door behind him. The icelands around them were dark and silent, the settlement barely illuminated by what dim moonlight could find its way through the thick winter clouds.

Gaeric passed by Irida and took the lead down the hill as she followed close behind, their Pokémon sticking close by. He wondered if Irida would choose to be silent the whole way down to their storage, essentially ending their earlier conversation, and leaving him in the dark about her plans moving forward. But halfway down the hill, he heard her voice piercing the heavy winter atmosphere.

“About our conversation tonight… Thank you, Gaeric.” Irida kept her eyes on the snow before her, making her way through the heavy blanket of white as she kept behind Gaeric. “I will try and plan out a trade proposal for the Diamond Clan with Calaba tomorrow, as well as discuss moving focus off of our traps, and the possibility of forming a few hunting parties at our next meeting.”

Gaeric hummed a sound of approval. He was the one who organized the hunting parties. He knew she’d want his help discussing that with the rest of the clan.

“Just… not for Draugr,” Irida urged, her weariness audible in her voice. “I won’t have anyone going after Draugr. I don’t think we could even take him down with Ingo’s help, and… we’re just not at that point to take risks like that yet. He’s too dangerous.”

[lasatfat]

hello and welcome to DADWC!! I am making heart eyes at your city elf mage, so how about Eireann Surana + A letter with a broken seal; the wax is stamped with a familiar symbol

happy writing!

-inquisimer

dragon age artefacts | @dadrunkwriting

Fun fact: this is the first DADWC prompt I ever got! It kind of ballooned a little bit. I hope you enjoy it.

Don't Look Back Into the Sun

In the newer quarter of Redcliffe, there’s a statue to commemorate the end of the Fifth Blight; a great griffon crouched upon a slab of black stone, held aloft by the twisted forms of scores of darkspawn half-crushed underneath. A bronze plaque is set into the stone, bearing the inscription, ‘the Hero of Ferelden.’

It’s flattering, Eireann supposes. It’s very…grim. More importantly, however, it’s a good landmark to schedule a meeting. She has new orders from the First Warden; there’s a scroll of paper in her hand, sealed with the image of a griffon she had split apart when she opened it.

She’d come back east because of the rumours of another ancient darkspawn, and the promise of new answers. Now, Corypheus is dead, and she learned nothing from him. A disappointment, but a journey she is endlessly glad she made. She’d reunited with Cullen, she’d met Kali, she’d seen Morrigan and Kieran again unexpectedly. She even has some new leads: Merrill Sabrae really had taken the Blight from a mirror, and Dorian’s medicines had extended the life of his friend Felix by years. New promises, new possibilities…and new potential for that same crushing disappointment. She’s so tired of it all, but she doesn’t have the luxury of stopping. Not if she wants to live past fifty.

“Warden Surana?”

Eireann turns. A certain bird is coming home to roost.

She had recruited Thom Rainier and kept him from a hangman’s noose: partly because the real Warden Blackwall thought him worthy – and he is, the perfect example of what a Grey Warden should be – but mostly for the sake of his family. His lover, Sigyn, and her daughter, Camile, are with him now. Looking at them now, it’s amazing to see how they’ve all changed. Thom’s head and face were shaved bare by his jailors, but he’s grown back a thick covering of salt-and-pepper hair. The way he carries himself is lighter, as if the mask of Warden Blackwall was a physical weight, now lifted. Sigyn is calmer, braver, more at peace. She bears the scars of her past with more confidence. Little Camile has changed the most, naturally. She was five when Eireann met her: painfully shy, at first, but curious in the way all young children are, and highly insightful. She too has grown in confidence, but she has grown physically, as well. She just turned seven last week.

She can’t truly understand what may lie ahead for the man she considers a father.

“Hello,” Eireann greets them, cordially. She bends slightly at the waist to address the child. “How are you, Camile?”

Not long ago, she would have hidden behind her mother’s leg instead of answering. Today, she smiles, politely, and says, “I’m okay. Thank you.”

“You asked to meet here,” Thom says.

She smiles. “I did. Thank you for coming.” None of them have good memories of this place.

“May I ask why?” he responds. The look on his face tells her that he already knows.

“I have new orders from the First Warden,” she replies, anyway. The scroll is supposed to be for her eyes only, but she hands it to him. “They want Alistair and I to escort you to Vigil’s Keep, for the Joining ritual.”

It’s strange. In the eleven years she has been a Warden, she has done surprisingly little recruiting. The people she’d taken from prisons were either shocked or relieved; to those already sick with the Blight, she may as well have been Andraste herself. This stoic, quiet despair is new.

“It’s alright,” Sigyn says, as much to herself as to the others. “We knew we’d have to go, at some point. We can collect our things…”

“This…this says you won’t be housed at the keep.” Thom manages to maintain composure as he says it, though Eireann doesn’t know quite how.

Sigyn lifts her head to glare. She is often quick to anger, though slow to act on it, if only because the threat of her rage is often enough to diffuse a situation. Somehow, even at her most nervous, she carried an exigent air of power.

“You said we’d be able to stay together,” she says.

“I thought you would be,” Eireann admits. “We were.”

That had been a bitter realisation. Farah had been allowed to stay with her parents. Their family was an exception, and now, she has to ask herself why. The innocent answer is that Farah had nowhere else to go, but she has a sneaking suspicion that, as the child of two Wardens, she was something for them to investigate.

She shakes herself. She didn’t come here today to stew over how the Wardens treat her. She came here to be a better kind of Warden.

“Walk with me.”

Eireann leads the three up the hill, towards the village gate. Autumn is fast approaching, heralded by the browning leaves and the slight chill that comes on the breeze. The late afternoon sunlight bathes the houses below in gold, and glimmers off the waters of Lake Calenhad, bright enough to leave bruise-coloured stains on her vision. If she hadn’t lived through the Fifth Blight, she would believe it had never touched the Hinterlands. There are places in the Anderfels where the dead still don’t rot, and yet here, the grass grows and the flowers bloom and the trees sprout fresh leaves every spring. They really had saved so much of this place.

By the time they reach the gate, the full weight of what is about to happen has fallen on Camile’s tiny shoulders. She clings to her mother’s leg, seeking reassurance that neither of her parents can honestly provide. Eireann could, and will, but not here. She needed witnesses, and she needs to be out of their earshot for the next part of the plan to work. If she’s ever asked, she can say she at least tried to do this properly. About fifty feet on, the path splits off towards Witchwood, and it’s at this junction that she stops to face her entourage.

“What are you doing?” Sigyn asks, incensed.

“Well, the way I see it, Thom can do one of two things,” she replies, casually. She meets his bewildered eyes. “You can come with me to Vigil’s Keep, do the Joining, and maybe get seconded to Skyhold, if I can pull the right strings. And that’s not a small ‘if.’”

“Or?”

“Or, you can hit me.”

He blinks. “What?”

“You can hit me, and then escape,” she repeats. “For goodness’ sake, make it look good.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Thom blurts. His entire face has turned the colour of raw rhubarb. “You’re the Hero of Ferelden. I can’t hit you!”

“I can,” says Sigyn, and her fist collides with Eireann’s mouth.

Her lip splits open on her teeth. The pain is sharp and stinging, and it blinds her for a moment. She doesn’t even realise she’s fallen until the other side of her face strikes the cobblestone, cheekbone first. “Fuck!” she yells, more out of surprise than anything else.

Camile screams, she thinks, and Thom definitely swears. “Sigyn! What did you do?”

Eireann wants to tell him not to worry – it was part of the plan, after all, she was just expecting more warning – but her mouth is full of blood and her lip is starting to swell. She waves her arm frantically. Go, idiot!

“Come on! The guards are coming!” Eireann manages to look up in time to see Sigyn grab Camile’s hand and run off towards Witchwood. Thom hesitates for a moment longer, torn between following his family and tending to Eireann’s face, which is no doubt turning some rather fetching shades of black and purple. She points, and he finally makes a run for it. He catches up to his girls, and scoops Camile up in his arms so she won’t lag behind.

“Miss!” The guards have reached her, it seems. One of them follows the escapees, and the other, a young man with a faceful of acne, is examining her busted lip. Maker, they’re letting baby children guard their towns now. “Are you alright?” he asks.

Eireann manages to half-smile without it hurting too much. “Very good, all things considered.”

“But your face…?”

“Even the face.”

~~

So, Thom Rainier goes on the run again. The Fereldan Wardens search for him, of course, though if Warden-Commander Eireann Surana doesn’t want them to find him, it’s unlikely that they will. At least, not officially. And if Eireann receives the occasional letter, or a series of gradually improving drawings, or dried flowers from the Hinterlands…well, that’s one secret she is more than happy to keep.

[sketchy-saram]

Okay! Day 1, Introduce your HoF! I wish I had more time--maybe I'll reblog this with some art later, if I can. But my Canon HoF is Bronwyn Aeducan! She is a fierce warrior whose first love is battle, and she'd rather solve her problems by beheading them, if possible. She and Gorim were together romantically, but honestly probably more from proximity and being companions in arms than being compatible.

She was extremely proud and determined to prove herself as a commander. She never wanted the throne--she probably would have been happy killing Darkspawn till she died, if her brother hadn't betrayed her. The sight of her coming out of the tunnels, covered in gore, feral and absolutely alight with murdering, must have been something for Duncan and the other Wardens to behold, when she found them.

She took to the whole thing like a fish to water. Especially when Alistair acquiesced to her leadership--after all, that was basically the role she had been preparing for her whole life. Fit like a pair of Dalish gloves. At first, she didn't know quite what to make of so many mages and humans and whatnot, but she gradually grew to enjoy the freedom from strict Dwarven caste expectations that had never let her relationship with Gorim be anything more. She actually made friends, which she had never had, since as an Aeducan everyone was either trying to kill or manipulate her. She definitely related to Alistair a lot on that level. (Her best friends were Shale and Sten, but she also had a soft spot for Wynne and Alistair.) She was genuinely pleased to see Gorim alive in Denerim, and happy he had found someone. It never even occurred to her to be jealous. (Although she was baffled that he could give up fighting to be a merchant of all things, LOL)

She helped Harrowmont ABSOLUTELY out of spite, and took so much satisfaction out of murdering her piece of shit brother. At least, she thought she would. It all made her feel pretty hollow. She swore to never go back to Orzammar after they finished there--it was dead to her, like she'd been to it.

After all the worries about being knifed in the back, then, it was so surprising when she found herself so charmed by Zevran; an Elf sent to kill her....who didn't even do a good job of it. He flummoxed her, confused her, and even affronted her, just on a technical level. It took her a looooooong time to believe any of his flattery. But his affability, his easy-going nature even in the face of everything he had suffered, and his hedonism eventually wormed their way under her skin. The first time she took him to bed, she told herself it was just scratching an itch for both of them, and that she would fight better after getting it out of her system.

Well, let's just say Zev was more than enthusiastic to take pointers in other areas than just fighting, and apparently the itch was a rash, because it kept happening. Bronwyn's worst nightmare was the hot few seconds after Taliesen offered to take Zev back to the Crows. She was already preparing to be betrayed again... one that, she was shocked to find, would have been more obvious, and yet about as brutal as losing her whole life had been. And then he turned them down, and she knew she'd keep that silly Elf twink safe forever.

(Now they are the Thedas couple that hang out in the bar and entice hotties into an unforgettable threesome 😉 When she isn't busy keeping order or killing more Darkspawn, anyway.)

She wasn't about to let either of them die if there was something as simple as sex to save them, so she bullied Alistair into sleeping with Morrigan for the ritual. Sooooo they all lived happily ever after. (She let Anora rule, because honestly, she was better suited. Bronwyn would know.) And for me personally, if anyone could find a way to beat the Calling, it would be Bronwyn. So I'm sure she has ❤️

[transandersrights]

happy Friday! :D For DADWC, how about #45 from the playlist prompts hehehe 👀

(I take prompts! See info here)

Thank you for the prompt!! #45 is Raise the Roof by Carbon Leaf, and I wrote ~1k of post-Awakening Adrel/Zevran, feat. Nathaniel for @dadrunkwriting. Light content warning for mentions of character death, but this is otherwise mostly fluffy and fun :)

What Nathaniel didn’t expect, making his way back to the Vigil from his errands in the town, was to walk in on a makeshift ball.

The first part was the music — he didn’t know what Dworkin was blowing into exactly, nor how it was making quite that noise, or how he’d found it in an estate that certainly hadn’t contained such a thing when he lived here. Hearing it was puzzling enough as he approached; more confusing still was actually entering the main hall and finding it almost completely transformed.

At the head of the room, where the Commander usually conducted their business, was a table laden with food. It was all things Nathaniel knew were in the storerooms, but a feast out of nowhere, with no holidays to celebrate (and no reason to celebrate them)? To say it was perplexing would be an understatement.

And then, of course, there was the dancing. The tables the Wardens usually used to eat at had all been pushed to the sides, making way for a score of dancers in the centre of the hall. Right in the middle of all of them was the Commander, whirling around with a figure Nathaniel didn’t recognise.

Their eyes locked across the room, and they tapped their dance partner on the shoulder. Without even missing a beat, he kept dancing, this time guiding them out of the crowd and towards the entrance, before the pair of them stopped moving in tandem. For someone who Nathaniel genuinely thought only had grace in combat, it was really rather impressive.

“Nathaniel!” they greeted. Their hand remained on the man’s waist, and Nathaniel was starting to get a good idea as to who this might be. An elf just a hair shorter than Adrel, a knife strapped to each hip and — most vitally — a silver ring strung on a chain around his neck.

There was no one else this could be: the man was Zevran Arainai, the Commander’s “second third”, to use their own rather peculiar turn of phrase.

“It looks like you’ve started a party without me,” he noted. Someone else had started playing the pipe instrument from before, and they weren’t half as good. It hadn’t stopped the dancing, though. “Is there an occasion?”

“Does there need to be one?” Zevran asked, his smile turning more genial the moment Adrel nudged him. “Ah, my apologies. I am—”

“Zevran Arainai,” Nathaniel said. “Unless Sister Leliana is completely unlike the woman Adrel described, anyway.”

Zevran laughed. “And I would have known from tone alone that you are Warden Howe,” he said. “I’ve heard of you, from the letters I received. It’s good to meet a Howe with his head on straight.”

This was one of the men responsible for his father’s death, and for a moment, Nathaniel considered raising a stink about the way he went about communicating that. But with everyone else just a short distance away, having fun like they were… he didn’t have the heart to ruin that. Adrel would get mad at him for asking people to pick sides, and then he’d be right back at the start with building trust with everyone here again.

There was, of course, the possibility that Adrel had done this on purpose. Started a party or just any kind of distraction so Nathaniel couldn’t embarrass himself in front of their partner (“boyfriend” felt a little light for the way they spoke about him. Adrel certainly wasn’t married to him. Oh, to have better words for these things) — or maybe so he had an excuse not to.

Or maybe it was just a party. Adrel wasn’t much of one for celebrations, but this was the most he’d seen them smile since the moment the darkspawn siege broke. Clearly, Arainai’s being here was a cause for the levity they so often avoided.

“It’s on straight enough to wonder what the actual cause for celebration is.” This time, he fixed his gaze directly on Adrel, who had the decency to look a little sheepish.

“Zevran came to surprise me,” they confessed. “He’s making good on a promise I made a few months ago.”

“Our dear Warden had the audacity to get injured when fighting an archdemon. Imagine!” Zevran leaned over to drape his left arm over their shoulder, bringing the pair even closer. It was almost indecent. Almost; and Nathaniel could see plenty of alcohol on that table. There was time for it to get worse. “We couldn’t celebrate as we’d intended to. I’m collecting on the promise of a dance.”

“You were injured?”

Adrel groaned. “Yes, I was, and not a word, Zevran. Or I’ll tell Oghren you’re looking for a dance partner.”

Zevran gasped, his right hand brought to his chest in a gesture of mock-offence. “Maybe I want to dance with Oghren, so our friend here gets the tale anyway; they broke several bones in their body and were terribly dramatic about the pain.”

Nathaniel blinked, letting that sink in while Adrel exploited Zevran’s closeness to shove him with their shoulder with what looked like all their (admittedly not considerable) weight. “I think that… sounds reasonable?”

“And then they refused my dance!”

“I couldn’t walk!” They flicked his nose, and Nathaniel hadn’t felt so much like a third wheel since he was a boy, awkwardly following Delilah around at yet another dance. “But I can now. And I’d like to get back to it, if you don’t mind, Nathaniel. Enjoy the party!”

“Right.” If he hadn’t felt quite so off balance, he would have insisted on an actual answer, rather than a series of deflections. Adrel wasn’t the most serious of commanders, but they weren’t one for spontaneity off the field. Their schedule was inflexible at the most lenient of times, and to just… do this?

There had to be something else going on, something Adrel didn’t want to admit to and absolutely didn’t want anyone else in the group catching on to. They were a good actor, if the whole thing weren’t so out of character.

No, Nathaniel knew there was something up. But with Adrel taking the lead in the dance now, twirling Zevran round and round until they dipped him low to the floor, holding him as they both laughed almost as loud as the music…

Nathaniel shook his head, smiling, and crossed the floor in search of a partner. If the Commander wanted to dance until the shadows interrupted, he was happy to join in.

[bumblewarden]

Happy Playing With Numbers Anniversary

Unsurprisingly, most of the Archive of Our Own data is about the same as last year's, but i was honor-bound to gather it anyway. I also looked up some basic metrics for Inquisitors that may aid me for deciding what to collect next year as well as data from the Favorite Player Background poll i ran when i first gained access to Tumblr polls. I will not be posting the pie graphs for most of the Origins as they are almost identical to last year's, but i did add a few new ones from this year's data collection at the end.

Some thoughts on the disparity between AO3 popularity and Tumblr popularity:

While there is considerable overlap, AO3 and Tumblr do not serve the exact same portion of the fandom, and even though it broke containment, the poll still represents only a part of the Tumblr-side fandom. This blog which made the poll (hi) festers about in a very elfy part of the fandom and bills itself as "The Warden Tabris Agenda". It shouldn't be too suprising that elves, especially the City Elf Origin, are more highly represented here.

The poll offers a single vote per Tumblr user, but on AO3, authors have the ability to post as much as they want about their favorite as well as their second-favorite, third-favorite, etc. And we've all seen those fics who have a character tagged who never appears.

The Tumblr poll ran for a week, but the data from the Archive is accumulative over the lifespan of the fandom. The earliest currently available fic on AO3 tagged with any individual Warden is an f!Cousland one-shot dated to November 17, 2009, two weeks after the game's initial launch.

The Orlesian Warden-Commander is the only one who receives the same percentages of fics/votes between the two popularity calculation methods.

And some other miscellaneous thoughts:

There were 15855 Warden fics tagged by Origin vs 28237 Inquisitor fics tagged by Origin. This is going to give the Inquisitor significantly more weight in the combined PC race distribution.

The data from the Inquisitors finally gives us not just an elf in first place but an elf with a majority of the fics. 46% of Lavellan fics are tagged with Lavellan/Solas, which is likely a factor. The Solavellans came in with the steel chair.

With the Inquisition data, dwarves continue their tradition of least popular (my apologies to the dwarf likers), but by the power of being the only one standing, Cadash in finally giving us a dwarf in quadruple digits.

Andras is the only Origin whose total number of fics has gone down between years. This is possibly due to many of the non-DA fics tagged with this character being removed or retagged as it was only their Unspecified/Other category which shrank. I didn't collect this data last year while it still would have been available, but it seemed a considerable percentage of non-gender tagged fic for Andras was an oc from outside Dragon Age.

Of all Origins' percentages of total fics, only Cousland went down between 2022 and 2023

There may be some correlation between the previous bullet and the elf sweep from the Tumblr poll as well as Lavellan surpassing Trevelyan in AO3 fics by volume. Relative popularity of humans is something to keep an eye on.

Now for the charts!! (Unless otherwise stated, assume the below information is reflective of the AO3 survey.)

[sidebenefits]

DA:D Leaked Image Notes Pt.1

From this image, I immediately see what looks like a dragon. Perhaps an Archdemon. I'd be pretty surprised if so, but I'm not sure what else it would be doing down there with. This is clearly Warden-related content, because we have Davrin, who we know to be a Grey Warden and we're at Weisshaupt, where the Grey Warden Base is.

Other things I notice is that this place is in ruins, which could be because of the dragon, but I wonder if it will fall to pieces while we're there or it was already in shambles. I would guess that it was already in shambles because there appears meat sacks or eggs on the right, which is reminiscent of the DA:O Deep Roads mission.

We are going to a library. Don't know what to do with that, but maybe we need information or whatever's going on has centered itself in the library. It might also be the most fortified location.

There is someone named Rook there. That could either be us or another companion. I'd be down for the player character being named Rook though.

Companions/possibly us mention there's worse than darkspawn on the way. That could mean a dragon, I guess or something else. I am more interested in what Davrin says, because for me it kind of implies there defending the place rather than attacking, which is not what I would have expected as the place is already in ruins.

We're much closer to our player character than in previous games. It's less top down, which is definitely different from previous games, but I think I prefer it that way. Idk how others feel though.

As you'd expect from a Warden-oriented mission, there's darkspawn, but there's also something called spawn boils (a totally gross phrase befitting of darkspawn). Red light could mean red lyrium and based on other information (the clip), I bet it does. Perhaps the boils are what's causing red lyrium darkspawn or maybe they're infected eggs that produce red lyrium darkspawn.

There's a lot here that's super exciting but let's start with the fact that the player character is a Grey Warden!! And based on the fact it says Level (blurred) Grey Warden, I would assume it's either a class, origin, or allegiance and not just what every player character will be. My best and most realistic guess would be class. That would mean it's more combat focused than story focused. I'd be most excited if it was an origin or allegiance, the difference being that with allegiance you could pledge yourself to a faction part of the way through the game as opposed to starting as a member of a faction. It might also be a mix of these.

We're either an elf or can choose our race, which is great. I'd guess the choose our race thing and not just that everyone is an elf. But I'm just happy because I'd probably end up playing an elf anyway. If we can choose our race and origin, I wonder if they're tied together or separate. Is every Warden origin an elf? Or can I be a dwarf Warden? Are some origins (again if there are origins in the first place) race locked?

Equipment system doesn't look all that surprising. We seem to be able to wear all the same stuff. Although I'd like to see the rest of the weapons menu.

It looks like we'll have fewer abilities we can equip at a time, which I don't think I'll have an opinion about until I actually play it. I think it depends on how combat goes and what sort of abilities there are.

The shield that's equipped is a Templar shield enchanted by the Mortalitasi, giving it an extra boost against spirits. Pretty much all this really means for certain is that we'll be fighting spirits, which isn't a shock. I'd be interested though in the backstory behind such a shield. You don't often think of the Mortalitasi and Templars together.