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beautifulterriblequeen · 4 years ago

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Do you find Moonshadow culture becoming a little less... likeable? (but not less interesting) It seems like they hand out Ghostings like candy with no path to forgiveness and no belief in a person’s ability to change and reform themselves. The pressure and anxiety those elves must be feeling at all times has got to astronomical. What are your thoughts?

I have plenty of thoughts, as always! Less likeable than what, though, anon? Maybe you’ve missed most of my posts on Moonshadow society over the last year...

Moonshadow society is a disaster, poor thing. It’s a tightlaced corset, pretty but restrictive with long term consequences. It’s a queer neurodivergent elf who just wants to do their very best but all the rules that are supposed to help them out with that end up hurting them too and they don’t know how to stop or change and so yes they’re dancing gracefully in the moonlight and yes they express themselves through beauty but if you get close enough you can hear the constant pterodactyl screech of their soul too. (Did I extrapolate extra hard from “Runaan is the most Moonshadow of the Moonshadow elves”, maybe yes)

Moonshadow society is deeply flawed and it needs help, but it’s so big and pervasive that it may be impossible to change its course without severe consequences, just like last time (aka moving east across the border and becoming assassins that took out humans). The elves can only do so much to alter their own fates from inside their own society.

Some may leave and never return. Some get ghosted and want nothing more than to re-enter the fold because they still believe in its ideals, like Feathershawl. Some probably try to change things from the inside, whether subtly or obviously. And others embrace the rules with both arms and try to mold themselves into The Perfect Moonshadow Who Can Do No Wrong, in order to remain safe and to belong.

But that’s a spectrum you’re going to get when perfectionism is a big part of your cultural philosophy. Everything has to be Just So for so many aspects of these elves’ lives, and it’s Very Not Good for them. Yes, they’re pretty. But mandating prettiness is just as bad as mandating other aspects of personal choice and free will.

As for ghosting, I really don’t think Moonshadows just yeet those left and right with little care for the consequences. I do think they’re too harsh with their shunning! Shunning, giving up, turning their back in a relatively permanent way, that’s not a good solution. Learning and adapting are important, and knowing that you have time and room to practice and adjust is so important for mental health and stability in your society. Living in constant fear of minding the rules or getting even perceived to be doing something incorrectly is such a drain on your energy.

But I do think that the Moonshadows have strict rules for what deserves ghosting and what doesn’t, just as they do for other stuff. The details of Feathershawl’s ghosting are theirs to keep, and I assume any Narrator could flesh those out however they chose during a playtest, whether to make their situation more or less sympathetic for the players.

But my take is this: Moonshadow elves revere life very deeply, and they work constantly to serve each other and their whole community, as they hold themselves together and celebrate their continued existence on every level they can. When someone in a position of big responsibility for the health, well-being, and lives of so many Moonshadow citizens messes up in such a bad way that there’s a plague and lots of elves die--lose their precious lives, lose those connections with others, leave their families torn and distraught and unable to focus on their own duties due to heavy, soul-sucking grief--when one elf causes this level of arcanum-deep catastrophe, I can absolutely see why the other Moonshadow elders would be horrified and grief-stricken, and furious. It’s a very un-Moonshadow thing to have happen, especially with how hard they’re all trying to be so very Moonshadow all the time.

Feathershawl had a position that gave them authority over the food sources that kept a good number of the Forest’s elves fed and able to live their lives without privation. And they screwed that up somehow. They were trusted with a basic staple of everyday life--food--and they got it wrong in such a horrible way that there are a lot fewer Moonshadow elves as a result.

Moonshadow elves need each other’s support and presence as part of their communal network, and anything that tears at that fabric goes against everything that Moonshadow philosophy stands for. Feathershawl themself had literally dozens of family members, whose illusions were kept in their crystal. That’s a lot of family! If it’s common for Moonshadow elves to have that many family members, then a plague would probably touch every family multiple times and leave everyone multiply devastated. It’s just Bad All Around.

There’s probably a lot more to Rayla’s ghosting than we know, since we only learned of it from her POV and she’s not in the habit of sharing Moonshadow secrets with Callum just yet. Knowing that Moonshadow families are so thickly intertwined, and how heavily they rely on each other to help support and cheer each other through standing strong together and mutual services, it’s no big stretch to imagine that Rayla’s biggest crime in Moonshadow eyes wasn’t her supposed running away, it was that her actions cost the Silvergrove their assassin leader, one of their elders and one of the strongest moral guiding hands they had. Rayla cost the Silvergrove their most Moonshadow Moonshadow.

Without Runaan, the Silvergrove is probably reeling quite a bit, and Rayla’s failure is to blame, in their eyes. They’re all suffering, and they need to put the blame somewhere--other than themselves--so they can start to move forward again.

It’s far from ideal. It’s very shame and blame oriented. But it does hold to some internal logic that seems to bear out through the three ghostings we know of for sure so far.

Another things Moonshadows are very good at is quick action. The moment they think there’s been a “mistake”, they move to address it. Whatever feelings they have on the matter, they process it in half a second (if at all) and jump straight to rectification. You attack the Storm Spire? Lain’s gonna kick you down the stairs. You think the Silvergrove ghosted you unfairly? You literally run to Ethari for help. You see Rayla trying to stay on the mission? You grab her wrists so she can’t draw her weapons. You see your workshop doors open but no one’s there? You stop working and fetch a hammer in case you need to smash a vindictive ghost. You think your friends failed their duty and dishonored you? You take everyone you can to go uphold that honor, including a 15 year old girl. (Holy cats does that mean everyone on Runaan’s squad was family, oh god) Swift action is a reassertion of the rules, of what’s right, so no one forgets. That’s got to include ghosting for things that are really terrible.

What I do find interesting is that Eljaal, the homesick assassin who is afraid to return home, may not be worried about ghosting specifically? But it’s a little unclear. I think there is something else they fear, perhaps a lesser punishment? But still one they can’t yet bring themself to face, poor elf.

I do think Moonshadow society is very stressful on the mind, and all these elves have become very skilled at hiding, mitigating, and otherwise working around their stresses and traumas. The greatest illusion that Moonshadows play is the one that Everything Is Fine, because there is always more work to do, and they keep telling themselves that they’re the ones who must do it, for everyone elses’s sakes. Laziness and selfishness are probably the same thing to Moonshadows. Hmm, maybe that’s why Runaan lets his family drag him off to picnics on his birthday, so he doesn’t seem selfish for wanting alone time.

In very very long, anon, Moonshadows are a Mess tee emm, and they’ve been designed that way from the start: doing their best inside a flawed system. This is the heart of their imperfection. They will probably benefit from spending time with literally anyone else aside from just themselves. They really really need to get out more, or to let someone else in, because the strictest of their own traditions are actually ruining the life and beauty they work so hard to celebrate.

#asks #moonshadow elves #ghosting #moonshadow culture #rayla #runaan #ethari #feathershawl #eljaal #let them all rest

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ask-runaan-anything · 4 years ago

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Would you tell us all your assassiny secrets about Eljaal?

If I did, they wouldn't be secrets anymore, would they? *Moonshadow smile*

Eljaal is a very earnest and dutiful assassin. They studied and trained with all due diligence, borne from a genuine desire to do what’s right. I had every faith in them when they left on their first mission, because they understood what was at stake. I could see it in their eyes when I sent them out into the night: they left the Silvergrove with every intention of completing their duty and returning successfully home.

And then... nothing.

Eljaal’s heartbloom flower remains afloat in the ritual pool outside their parents’ home, so they may see it and know their loved one is alive. And Eljaal is loved, very much. They... oh look I’m spilling their secrets anyway welp ...they have a fondness for moonstriders wait that was supposed to be one of my secrets too, and their father taught them how to raise some of the best and brightest in the whole village. Their choice of long, trailing sash is a reflection of the moonstrider’s tail, and their double-bladed staff represents the swift and deadly striking ability of the mounts they’ve helped to raise all their life.

Eljaal understands soft, deep feels, as any moonstrider does, but they believe deeply in the greater aspect of the pack, and they have an eye for discipline as well. Good training and a good heart make for a very reliable combination, in my experience. And Eljaal would agree with me. If they were here.

Which... they are not. *quietly distressed squad leader noises*

They always had the nummiest treats for Lachir when they would see her. My moonstrider knows a moonstrider-lover when she sees one. She has missed Eljaal, too. Perhaps my assassin-errant has found other creatures to befriend and tame with their experience and knowledge, as they seek their way forward.

Wherever they are, I wish them luck.

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ask-runaan-anything · 4 years ago

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what would happen if an assassin was bound to kill a target and the target died of unrelated causes before it was possible?

The shadowhawk is a shortcut to deliver proof of success. Ethari’s special arrows can carry a blood ribbon back to the Dragon Throne far faster than any assassin can travel. Without those arrows, the assassin has to carry the red ribbon back themselves.

Usually, that’s not a problem. But should circumstances become less than clear on whether justice has been served--such as an unblooded assassin returning home still unblooded despite their mission’s success--then the completion ritual that awaits the assassin back in Xadia would loom like a gathering storm. Few Moonshadows have ever tried to bluff the ritual, and fewer still have succeeded. The stakes are breathtakingly high. historically, being a Virgo gives you the best odds

It’s often easier to leave one’s lotus floating peacefully in one of the village pools for family to reassure themselves with, while seeking other ways to earn a welcome return to the Silvergrove.

Or not seeking them.

Exiled Moonshadow enclaves do exist. The ghosted, the outcast, the misfits. Moonshadows always find each other eventually, and I know where at least three of these enclaves are located, for Reasons. no not those reasons I am a perfect Moonshadow I would expect a lonely Moonshadow to find their way to such a place eventually, if they couldn’t find a way to prove their dedication to Moonshadow assassin ways and return to the fold.

Eljaal knows what’s expected of them. stabbing i mean stabbing If I hadn’t been in crisis mode the last several months, I might have had an opportunity to lend them a subtle bit of guidance on whom to stab. But the Storm Spire was assaulted on the eve of last Winter’s Turn, and here we all are.

#ask runaan #runaan answers #moonshadow elves #moonshadow assassins #someone help us we're a mess #eljaal

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ask-runaan-anything · 4 years ago

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what happened to the rest of the elves? like Eijaal and the others. And One more question what are the other assassins' names.

Eljaal deserved better than they got, I think, but they are beyond my help now. Any redemption they find must come from their own hands. Plenty of assassins still remain in the Silvergrove, though. You didn’t think the forces of Katolis took us all out, did you? *Moonshadow smirk*

But it does no harm to speak the names of the dead, for they are beyond all harm now. My mission to Katolis allowed me the company of Skor, Andromeda, Callisto, and Ram.

#ask runaan #runaan answers #moonshadow assassins #eljaal #angst #this is fine

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beautifulterriblequeen · 4 years ago

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A Tiadrin theory

I woke up this morning with a sudden headcanon about Tiadrin, and as I poked at it, it filled out nicely, so I’m gonna go ahead and call it a theory at this point.

It gets angsty, as all good Moonshadow theories do. If your heart doesn’t weigh 6 tons by the time you reach the end of this post, I didn’t capture the feeling properly.

Several bits of detail flutter around this mysterious woman, and I’ve theorized various versions of her circumstances, her relationship with Runaan and Ethari, her former position before the Storm Spire, the reasons she went there, and the reasons Runaan was so hellbent on avenging her dishonor.

I don’t think any of them landed as well or tied together as neatly as this one, though. Hence “theory” instead of just “headcanon.” Here we go:

FIrstly, some meta information. This is a fun tweet, but in this post I’m looking directly at “belief systems as sources of both comfort and restraint” and at the “weight of guilt” and “cycles of trauma” lines, in regards to Moonshadow culture, and specifically Moonshadow assassin training.

And raise your hand if you’ve been looking further afield than the front-and-center Janaya-with-Soren nod from “ripped women who teach soft boys to stab,” because I have. TDP is full of parallels and imperfect mirrors.

So, in the spirit of soft yet angsty cycles and the ripped women who perpetuate them, Theory Part I: Tiadrin trained Runaan, because she was the leader of the assassins before he was.

She’s referred to as a mastermind. Assassin leaders need to be good with plans of all sizes. We’ve seen how Runaan silently adapts to chaos and doesn’t tell anyone what his new plans actually are. He’s a good leader. But he also had to learn those skills from someone. Whoever instructed him was a tactical genius, and also very Moonshadow, and Runaan was an adept student.

Also, Tiadrin is a goddamn badass. She’s several inches shorter than Lain, Runaan, Ethari, and Viren. But she is a powerhouse in battle. She knows her physics well enough to drag this 6′2″ human battle mage skidding across the floor. Monster thighs, monster intellect.

As a 5′4″ woman who trained in jujitsu for several years, let me just say: gender equality in battle is great, but physics does not care. It will crush your popsicle-stick ass if you try to chuck a 250 lb person across the room and your math is off. The most accurate fighters are the ones who know how hard physics hits back when you’re sloppy.

Tiadrin earned every inch of respect, and every inch of her thigh circumference, the old-fashioned way. She worked for it, all day every day. Runaan does the same thing. He might have half a foot of height on her, but he trains like the world will crush him if he’s not perfect. And that’s very Moonshadow assassin in its own right, because it will, and it tried. Tiadrin knew what she needed. And she knew what Runaan, soft boy that he is, needed. And she made sure she trained it into him, all day every day.

Tiadrin is one of the reasons that Runaan survived the fight in Harrow’s chamber. She made him the fighter he is, the person he is, and that was just enough to pull him through... so he could see his own mentor trapped in a coin. Yay, thanks Viren.

Theory Part II: Runaan’s squad was made up of all the elves Tiadrin has personally trained, or trained by proxy.

If Tiadrin was Runaan’s trainer and mentor, then her honor was his honor. And when she supposedly faltered and fled at the Storm Spire, that suddenly cast him, as an individual assassin and as the current assassin leader, in a terrible light. If his mentor was a coward, what did she teach him? Would he also duck and run when things got hopeless, and abandon his duty?

The doubt that must’ve swirled around him when the village learned the terrible news about Lain and Tiadrin must’ve sliced right through him. Thousand-yard stare, biggest internal Oh No ever. Runaan lives to serve his people, and to have them doubt him, after all he has done to train them and protect them from harm, would be the worst kind of pain. He had to make it right.

But not just him. Assassins seem to take solo missions even for their first kill, if Eljaal’s covered shoulders are any indication. You can Moonshadow your feels if you don’t have to watch your friend kill someone, if you don’t have anyone watching while you stab someone to death. You can pretend it’s all serene and just and smooth and valid and honorable. You can hold to your love of life and dance right past your embrace of death, if no one else sees it. But Runaan’s mission had 6 members. They were definitely going to have to watch each other murder people. Why?

Tiadrin’s honor was their honor. An extended family of brothers, sisters, cousins, fosterlings, anyone who was drawn to Tiadrin, or her to them, bonded together over their family feels and protective instincts. They were family. And then their leader fell, her honor crushed.

They had to make it right.

They all carried Tiadrin’s honor with their own, taught by her personally, regarded as honorable assassins. Until she seemed to have a fatal flaw in her character. Then everyone wondered if that flaw got passed down, too. The assassins had to prove that it hadn’t been, for the sake of their people, and for all of Xadia who trusted them to take out threats in the dark. They had to go set right Tiadrin’s “mistake” and take Harrow for Zym’s death. All of them. Every single one, no exceptions.

No exceptions. That’s why Rayla had to go, too. Tiadrin taught Runaan everything he knew about being an assassin, and when she moved to the Storm Spire, Runaan dutifully passed Rayla’s mother’s teachings to Rayla herself, feeling like part of the family, an essential connection between mother and daughter, between assassin mentor and mentee. He tried to get it just right, just perfect, so Rayla would feel like she’d been trained by her actual mom as much as possible. Not just because Tiadrin was Rayla’s mother, but because Runaan respects Tiadrin’s prowess so much. She was the best, and every bit of Runaan’s efforts to be his best reflects his respect for her.

You don’t get to be the assassin leader unless you’re the best there is. Runaan knows that from both sides. And just like Tiadrin did with him, he does his best to teach Rayla everything she needs to stay safe and alive, so she can do her duty too, and come home safe to her family every day.

And, in the end, part of that duty had to be avenging her mentor’s mentor, her own mother, by accompanying Runaan on his mission. Her lessons were from Tiadrin, one step removed. If there was a flaw in her training, no one would trust her when it was her turn to lead the assassins, and she’s not even done training yet! Rayla understood Moonshadow honor, assassin honor. She was driven to ask Runaan to take her with him, and he could see exactly where she was coming from. Their honor was tangled up with Tiadrin’s. They couldn’t back out. They had to go to Katolis, them and everyone else Tiadrin had trained.

That’s why the binding ribbons came out. They were in a do-or-die situation, in the most literal sense.

They could not go home in failure. If they all failed, it would take out a whole line of assassin training, possibly the same one that had lasted for countless generations (okay maybe we can count them and there are like 30) and crush the Moonshadows’ spirits. And they’d literally rather die than see that happen. They were all ready to give their lives to restore Tiadrin’s honor, and their own, because without her legacy, there would be such a crater in the assassin corps that it might never recover.

Yes, this is basically my angsty “Runaan’s found family went into battle together and most of them died” headcanon again, but this time with a solid theory behind it. I’m not sorry. I love this angsty idea, it’s horrible. Do you see the cycle of trauma? I’ve got one more part to add, which may make it clearer.

Theory Part III: Assassin leaders always go serve at the Storm Spire once they successfully train their own replacement.

In this theory’s version of Why Laindrin Went To The Storm Spire, Tiadrin was always going to end up at the Storm Spire, once she became the assassin leader. That’s where the veteran assassin leader goes, see, to liaison between the dragon throne and the current Moonshadow leader. They know the assassins’ skills far better than any Skywings or dragons do, and they know the leader in charge of them, so they can give guidance or direction as needed, or simply phrase the Dragon King or Queen’s request in such language that the assassin leader knows intuitively what really needs to be done.

Yeah, Tiadrin writing Runaan mission directives. I can see it.

Tiadrin’s mentor would’ve left for the Spire when Tiadrin got promoted to leader. The person she trusted most in the world, who had trained her, left her behind, only to communicate by long distance. Moonshadow deniability, amirite--we’re not stabbing people, we’re sending tactical correspondence, yep that’s it. But Tiadrin was still surrounded by Runaan and the other young assassins, and she bonded with them all, and life was bright.

Then, the shadow came once again. Runaan was an excellent student, and she knew he was ready. Maybe she delayed, and delayed, Moonshadowing her reasons. Maybe she wanted the chance to bring life into the world, to try to balance out some of the death she had dealt. Maybe she wanted a few more years of domestic life in the Silvergrove with all her favorite elves, to bolster her heart for the years to come. Maybe her mentor at the Spire was up to shenaniganry in dragon politics and she wanted to buy them more time to lay those plans in place.

Knowing Tiadrin even the slightest bit, I will assume it was all this and more. But eventually, she couldn’t put things off any longer. She had to go fulfill her duty to the dragon throne and join the Dragonguard as the representative of the Moonshadow assassins who had bound themselves to the protection of Xadia long ago. She had to walk away from her bright life, her family, her friends, her allies, and climb up into that misty stone tower, to spend who knows how long away from everything she knew and loved.

And she did. She chose to walk away, for love of Xadia. She took her beloved husband with her, but she left the Silvergrove, Xadia’s protection, and her own daughter’s upbringing in the hands of the elf she chose to replace her. The soft boy she’d taught to stab, who would teach her baby girl to stab, too.

Because this is The Way.

I know I’ve had an angsty headcanon that assassins don’t retire. But, consider this: maybe one of them can. One of Tiadrin’s many plans could have been counting on Runaan’s extreme prowess and devotion to Rayla. If Tiadrin knew that she could return to the Silvergrove in peace and retire there with Lain once Runaan trained Rayla to take his place as the assassin leader, then she could live in the Silvergrove again for the rest of her life, and also get to see Rayla grown big and strong and become the assassin leader herself, another proud elf in a long line of honor and tradition. She might feel that was a big accomplishment, considering the dangers they all face. And it would be.

Yes, this would hinge on the fact that Runaan would have to leave the Silvergrove to replace Tiadrin at the Storm Spire, to serve as Rayla’s liaison to the dragon throne. Cycles of trauma, remember? Tiadrin can’t have all of her family back in one place, ever again. She has to love and train someone enough to put them through the life that she’s having to live, and she has to be strong enough not to let that break her. And then, she has to choose between them. She chose Runaan first, so that she could hope to choose Rayla later. She trusted him with all the future happiness of her heart. And he did his best with it.

But they didn’t quite make it, in the end, because of Viren.

I know this has been a lot of angst. I know. But there is a moonlit lining to this theory, and I think we all need to consider it. If there is a cycle of taking the assassin leader out of the Silvergrove to serve the dragon throne for ancient promise reasons, then if that ancient promise is ever rescinded or redressed in an effective way, the family won’t need to keep yeeting loved ones out of its orbit. And if assassins cease to be a necessary evil as a result, then no one will have to leave, or stab, again. At least, not for the same angsty reasons. They could stay together and never need to leave again.

It won’t be easy to break such a cycle. It might be impossible. But if anyone can manage it, it’ll be Tiadrin, and her family.

extra headcanon for this theory:

Tiadrin, packing up for the Storm Spire: One last thing, Runaan.

Runaan, stoically attentive because what are feels on the day your mentor leaves you: Yes, Tiadrin?

Tiadrin: Ethari will need to pick an apprentice to replace him, too. He should start looking now.

Runaan: Why? Only the Silvergrove’s Master Craftsman gets to pick an apprentice, and Ethari isn’t--

Tiadrin: *wink” Not yet, he’s not.

Runaan: Tiadrin, please, what have you done?

Tiadrin: I want to come back here someday, Runaan. I want to see your good work with Rayla. And I can’t do that if you flat-out refuse to leave your husband when Avizandum calls for you to replace me. So he needs to be ready to leave, too.

Runaan: I, I, I would nev-- I couldn’t--

Tiadrin: *patting his shoulder briskly as she strides out* Mmhmm, sure thing, kid. The council votes him in next Thursday. Be good while I’m gone! I want to find this place exactly the way I’m leaving it. Lain, honey, get your coat!

Lain, in the next room: Yes, Tiadrin!

Runaan, soft-eyed, to the silence in her wake: Yes, Tiadrin.

#tdp #tdp theory #tdp angst #laindrin #tiadrin #runaan #rayla #tdp headcanons #i liked her before but now i adore her

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beautifulterriblequeen · 4 years ago

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Moonberry Wishes (Ruthari Week 2021 #2)

Pairing: Ruthari

Rating: T

Tags: post-coin Runaan, Runaan pulls an Eljaal, belated reunion, angry Ethari, all the feels, angst, fluff, i missed you, toppy Ethari, Runaan is never gonna be ready to hear about Rayllum

Prompt: Leaving/Returning

Moonberry Wishes

The clang of sword on shield snapped Runaan out of his morning meditation. His eyes opened on the now-familiar view of the rocky slopes of eastern Duren, their golden stone bleached with early morning sunlight. Squinting against the light, Runaan tracked the sound of battle, snatched up his bowblade, and hurled himself off the high stone ledge where he’d made secure camp the night before. The descent to the narrow pass a few hundred meters below wasn’t difficult for one with his skills, and he leaped easily from boulder to boulder as he descended past the timber line toward the old trade road.

The faint flicker of a small cooking fire at the edge of the road caught his eye as he targeted a cluster of figures at the far edge of the road. Someone had camped there in the night, and he hadn’t heard a thing! The assassin tossed his confusion aside and leaped down, skidding dramatically through a cloud of fine pale dust shot through with angled sunbeams, expecting the attackers to turn and run, or possibly turn and stare. To acknowledge his arrival, at the very least--he was a Moonshadow elf, and making himself known on purpose was a rare treat.

But no one did. Not even the traveler he’d rushed in to rescue. The man stood still, his back to Runaan, the hood of his cloak pulled up.

Runaan blinked mid-skid and reassessed, fingers tense on his bowstring.

Half a dozen bandits had clearly attempted to besiege this man. Yet three of them lay sprawled in the dust already, and one hung by his belt from a broken tree limb three meters off the ground. As Runaan skidded in, another bandit got shoved backward through the air and plopped into a muddy patch in the woods with a squelch.

Runaan sought the last bandit as he battled his surprise. He seemed to have found the one human who could hold his own as well as an assassin against half a dozen attackers. He finally spotted the greasy man when his head rose up over the traveler’s hood, caught in the would-be victim’s grip as he was bodily lifted into Runaan’s line of sight by the front of his shirt. The traveler’s other arm dropped to his side, revealing a small round silvery shield strapped to his forearm.

Runaan reassessed again, casting his gaze around the small campsite, seeking clues as to who this strange paradox of a person was.

The traveler had camped in the most foolish location, right where any passing rogue could find him. Yet he’d somehow managed to set up his camp silently in the night. He carried no sword, but he’d bested half a dozen desperate humans with a small shield. His campfire was expertly laid, but the aroma that rose from it was one of stewing fruits.

Runaan’s eyes narrowed. He suddenly doubted that this stranger had ever needed his help at all.

“I have a question for you,” the traveler huffed to his captive, catching his breath from their quick scuffle. “And if you answer me truthfully, you can be on your way.” His voice was soft velvet over cold steel, and its gentle brogue stabbed Runaan in the gut with an icicle made of all the frozen feelings he’d tried to ignore for nearly a year.

The world telescoped around him, streaking past his vision with dizzying speed. His freedom from the coin, his shame and uncertainty over failing half his mission, the strange sense of mourning he felt over feeling his blood oath breaking with his supposed death, his decision to wander in search of new purpose instead of returning home and learning he’d been ghosted. His honor had always been vital to his identity, and he hadn’t been ready to face the risk of having it stripped away despite his best and most dutiful intentions. Three seasons had passed since he’d turned his boots toward the west, and not one step had landed on Xadian soil.

But apparently Xadia had grown tired of waiting for him. This stranger was no human. This stranger didn’t sound like a stranger, either.

Runaan’s breath burst from his mouth in a single disbelieving gasp. “Ethari?”

The traveler dropped his bandit like a discarded cloak and spun to face Runaan. His silvery shield thudded to the dirt unheeded. Warm brown eyes blazed out at the errant assassin from beneath a dark blue hood edged with locks of long black hair, and his dark skin was unmarked by blue Moonshadow paint. He also sported five fingers on each hand.

Runaan let out a soft grunt of pain. This man wasn’t his--

The traveler’s mouth fell open in surprise at the sight of the Moonshadow before him. A quick hand flicked back his hood, and a pale shimmering spell rippled across his body.

Runaan’s eyes widened even further.

The Moon spell danced around the traveler’s hidden features, revealing elf horns, cheek markings, shoulder swirls. His black hair became shaggy and white, and his eyes warmed to a soft sunset, just as wide as Runaan’s were.

The elves stared at each other in shock. To the side, the discarded bandit scrambled to his feet and hesitantly edged away, his gaze darting between the safety of the forest and the big elf who had flicked him aside.

“Never mind,” Ethari told him in a faint voice, eyes locked onto Runaan. “I found him.”

The bandit nodded eagerly as if he’d actually been of help. He gathered up his foolhardy compatriots, and together the humans bolted without a backward glance.

Runaan tracked him with a tense stare until he was out of sight before he let himself drink in the sight of his precious craftsman from head to toe. Tension he’d been holding for nearly a year began to ease from his shoulders. “Ethari.” His voice was a tentative prayer.

“Runaan.” Ethari’s voice was faint, too.

The assassin’s eyes dropped to the shield. Its edge was rimmed with all the phases of the Moon. Runaan wondered briefly how many enchantments Ethari had crammed into its swirlies. “You’re fighting?” he murmured.

“I’m on a mission,” Ethari corrected breathlessly. His chest was still heaving, but Runaan suspected it was for a different reason now.

Runaan felt the first hints of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. He hadn’t smiled since the Silvergrove, but Ethari always had a way of--

Ethari’s brows lowered sharply. “To find Xadia’s biggest dumbass.”

Runaan’s eyes widened. “What?”

With a growl, Ethari charged at him. Runaan managed to drop his bowblade safely into a nearby fern before Ethari seized him by the front of his shirt and backed him up against a nearby tree trunk. Runaan gripped his husband’s wrists and braced for impact, wincing as his horn tip clattered against the rough bark. His toes slipped on an angled root and dangled in the air as Ethari pinned him easily in place. Runaan’s eyes danced from his husband’s furious eyes to his bulging deltoids to his aggressive stance to his fingers knotting in Runaan’s shirt to the way those two soft locks of hair always fluttered right in the middle of his forehead, and finally managed to focus on his mouth, which had been pouring an angry stream of words past his ears for several seconds.

“--where the fuck have you been? Why didn’t you come home? I thought you were dead! Or lost! Or hurt! Or captured again! I was worried sick! Did you ever think about that? Did you?”

Runaan opened his mouth to stammer a reply.

Ethari’s question was apparently rhetorical. He bulled onward: “I gave Rayla your lotus in a jar of water from the pool, and she said she’d bring you back to me. And she started to promise me, and do you know what I did, Runaan? Do you? I stopped her. I couldn’t take another broken promise from an assassin standing beside my ritual pool. I couldn’t take it. So I sent her off without it, and I started to hope again. And the full Moon came, and went, and I couldn’t sleep a wink, for days and days. I waited! I waited for you, you shadowsaken idiot!”

Runaan couldn’t look away. The full force of Ethari’s rage and sorrow poured into his eyes and slammed against his chest, leaving him breathless. “I…”

Ethari wasn’t nearly done, though. “And then Rayla returned to the Silvergrove, with Lain and Tiadrin and Callum and Ezran and the Queen of the Sunfire Elves and her human girlfriend--”

“Her what?” Runaan blurted.

“--and she had to tell me to my face that you’d run away,” Ethari continued. “Left in the night. Bolted. Scarpered. Fled, like some kind of coward. She had to say those words to me, and she had to watch me crumple to the floor and fall apart, again!” He checked Runaan against the tree a second time. “Again, Runaan!” Another shove. “I fell apart again!” And another. “How many times am I going to let you destroy my heart before I’ve had enough?” Furious tears spilled down Ethari’s cheeks and lost themselves in his markings.

“N-No…” Runaan’s whispered denial shivered into a sudden sob. Ethari’s angry slams barely registered compared to the pain of seeing his tears. His fingers fluttered toward Ethari’s cheeks, aching to wipe away the sorrow he’d caused. “I’m so sor--”

Ethari pulled him away from the tree and slammed him back against it with more force, interrupting Runaan’s gesture. “I’m not finished!” he roared. “Don’t you dare be soft with me before I’ve gotten this off my chest! I’ve been carrying it alone for ten months and I’ll be bloodcursed if I let you stop me from unloading every last word now that I’ve found you, do you hear me?”

Half terrified, half dazzled at the raw power in Ethari’s voice, Runaan could only nod mutely and cling to his husband’s wrists for dear life.

“Good!” Ethari yelled. He panted heavily for a few breaths, staring Runaan in the eye with a baleful glare, before asking in a slightly less aggressive tone, “Alright, now where was I?”

A distant light dawned in Runaan’s heart, and his brows lifted softly. “You were asking me how many times you were going to let me destroy your heart before you’ve had enough,” he supplied gently.

Ethari’s fists tightened in Runaan’s shirt. He slowed his breathing and swallowed, and when he spoke, his voice was merely resentful. “Right. Yes. Thank you.”

Runaan felt one of his own tears escape over the edge of his cheek. His heart was absolutely thrumming with Ethari’s presence. His warmth, his strength, the smell of his breath, the shivering rumble of his voice--Runaan was nearly delirious with so much enchanting proof of his husband’s existence right there in front of him. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, relaxing in Ethari’s grip. When he opened them again, they lingered on Ethari’s hands for a long moment, and he gave his husband’s wrists a long, fervent squeeze. “You’re welcome,” he murmured.

“No, don’t you do that, don’t you be soft and handsome when I’m angry at you,” Ethari protested grumpily. He set Runaan on his feet and checked him lightly against the tree with a quick press of his fingertips.

Runaan let out a soft grunt as his back connected with the bark again. “I keep asking you to tell me how to stop doing that, but you never have.”

Ethari glared balefully at him, and his lip curled once again. But then his bottom lip shivered, and his face crumpled into longing. He cupped Runaan’s head in his hands, bringing their foreheads together with a soft bump and pressing hard. One hand wound into Runaan’s hair, and the other encircled his shoulders, pulling him tightly against Ethari’s chest until their noses brushed tips. “You utter idiot. I missed you,” Ethari breathed, so softly Runaan almost didn’t catch it.

Uncertain but needy, Runaan slipped his hands inside Ethari’s cloak and gripped the back of his broad belt, pulling their bodies flush. He waited, silent, soaking up every heartbeat of this soft, precious, long-awaited contact with his beloved.

“I stayed, for a while.” Ethari’s words rode just above a whisper, and their warmth brushed Runaan’s lips. “For Lain and Tiadrin, and for Rayla. But they knew. They knew. They knew before I did.”

Runaan’s fingers squeezed tighter, clinging, needing to hear the rest but fearing the truth of the pain his absence had caused.

“I didn’t know where to begin, but Rayla helped me. And so did King Ezran, and Prince Callum, and Queen Aanya, and Lujanne, too. I started wandering, following stories of a shadowy hero who always saved people from danger and vanished into the night. No one ever admitted to getting a good look at him, no one remembered his words. They just knew they owed him their lives.”

Runaan huffed in wry amusement. He’d thought he was changing his life entirely, and yet his husband had known him in an instant, merely from stories of his minor exploits. “I can’t ever hide from you, can I?”

“I could recognize you by touch alone,” Ethari breathed, “by smell. I would know you blind, by the way your breaths came and your feet struck the earth. I would know you in death, at the end of the world.”

A wry smile lifted one corner of Runaan’s mouth. “I think we’ve been.”

Ethari cupped Runaan’s cheeks softly and gave him a steady look. “You made me a promise, Runaan, to return my heart to me.”

“I did.”

“But I had to go looking for it myself.”

Runaan’s gaze dropped. “You did.”

Ethari gently lifted his chin with a finger until their eyes met again. “Well? I’m here now.”

Runaan’s brows twitched down. “But… I failed you. I destroyed it, with my carelessness and my pride. You just asked me--”

Ethari pressed his finger against Runaan’s lips. “I asked you how many times. I know. Because it’s happened more than once. I know that, too. Yes, I’m angry with you. But I didn’t hike all over Garlath’s green earth just to tell you to stuff it, you great stupid moonberry.”

“What did you hike all over Garlath’s green earth to tell me, then?” Runaan asked, half afraid of the answer.

“I’m a Master Craftsman, Runaan. You should remember well how many weapons I’ve repaired for you over the years, because it’s been a lot. And I’ve repaired other things for you, too. Your feelings. Your body. Your own heart.”

Runaan went still under Ethari’s touch as a frenetic parade of memories streaked past his mind’s eye. Ethari’s soft words, soft touch, soft kisses, ten thousand times over. Overcome, he pressed his cheek into his husband’s hand and nodded, feeling hot tears slipping past his lashes.

“I’m not a Master Craftsman for nothing. I can repair anything I choose to. Anything at all,” Ethari continued softly. He leaned his forehead against Runaan’s again. “And I choose to repair my own heart when you break it. I choose. To re-pair my heart. With yours.”

Runaan laughed through a sob at his husband’s pun and slid gentle arms around his husband, reassuring himself of his husband’s warm, solid strength.

Ethari sighed in relief at Runaan’s gesture. “I hiked all over Garlath’s green earth to choose you, again. But I need to know, Runaan… What do you choose?”

Runaan sought his husband’s warm sunset eyes and found them brimming with emotion. His own lip trembled at the sight of the pain he’d caused his most beloved. A thousand years of tradition flashed through his mind, its insistence foggy and distant without the pull of his lost oath. Without that urgency pounding through his own blood, there was only one thing he longed to be: with Ethari. With this elf whom he’d hurt, with this elf whom he was very sure he didn’t deserve.

He cupped his husband’s face and bared his heart for whatever fate awaited him. “You,” he said, through an ecstatic sob. “I choose you. Take this heart of yours back, Ethari, if you truly still want it. I did my best to keep it safe, but it deserved so much more care than I could give it… I did you wrong, my heart, so wrong, and I dare not make you any promises, but...” Runaan’s words faded to desperate puffs of breath that ghosted across Ethari’s lips as he leaned closer, drawn by the dizzyingly warm, solid presence of his precious husband. “My heart… I missed you, too...”

Ethari met him halfway, and he tasted as if they’d never been apart. They pulled each other close, full of eager hands and soft whimpers. Runaan’s head spun with the blessed ecstasy of his husband’s kisses, and he clung to Ethari’s sturdy shoulders for balance even as he pressed himself closer against him.

All those months apart suddenly seemed to be happening all at once, endless yet instantaneous. Runaan felt eight kinds of fool for letting his blasted honor get in the way of the love this glorious elf was determined to shower him with. With a soft cry, he buried his face against Ethari’s neck and threw his arms around his shoulders. Ethari wrapped him in a tight hug and rocked him slowly, humming into his hair.

“What do I do now?” Runaan murmured brokenly into Ethari’s purple scarf.

“Come home,” Ethari said promptly. He caressed Runaan’s cheek and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Come home.”

Runaan raised his head, accepting Ethari’s easy words as proof that he hadn’t been ghosted back in the Silvergrove. But in that quiet moment there in his husband’s arms, high in the mountains of Duren, he realized that, for the first time in his life, he didn’t care what the Silvergrove thought of him. Only Ethari’s regard mattered now. “You’re my home. And you’re right in front of me.”

His husband’s eyes lit with eager warmth, and a teasing lilt accompanied his sassy grin. “Then you’d better come here.”

Runaan bit his lip at his husband’s suggestive pun. “My camp’s just up the slope.”

Ethari took Runaan’s face in his hands, backed him gently against the tree again, and kissed him passionately. When he finally let Runaan up for air, he gasped, “What in Garlath’s green earth makes you think I can wait that long?”

Some while later, the husbands ambled along the mountain road, hand in hand, with nowhere in particular to go. Ethari talked as lightly as he could of the things he had seen, and Runaan listened with a full heart and trod with a quiet and grateful step. His hand never left Ethari’s, needing constant reassurance that he was truly there beside him after so long, that he had truly come looking for his long-lost husband. That Runaan was worth searching for, despite all he had done.

If Ethari noticed the occasional tear of humble gratitude slipping over Runaan’s cheeks, he was kind enough not to draw attention to it. Instead, he easily shifted topics to give Runaan time to adjust, telling sweet anecdotes and dramatic retellings and recounting his brushes with powerful figures that Runaan already knew, and some he didn’t. He hopped and twirled and bowed in time with his stories, never once letting go of his wayward husband’s hand, spinning close for the occasional kiss as he always had.

“...and then the Tidebound ambassador arrived and caused quite a splash,” Ethari said as they crested a hill. A warm breeze wafted up from the valley below, ruffling Runaan’s side tails and Ethari’s scarf. “Literally, the elf shot himself out of the well! I could hear the humans yelping all the way back at the blacksmith’s shop. If it hadn’t been for Callum’s quick thinking, that first contact would’ve been quite the wet blanket! But he had everything sorted in minutes. Rayla’s truly chosen well, my heart.”

Runaan’s feet slowed. “Chosen well…?”

Ethari paused, wide-eyed. “Surely they told you when they freed you.”

Runaan’s eyes narrowed. “They mysteriously neglected to mention.”

"But why would she-?" To Runaan’s surprise, Ethari suddenly burst into snorting laughter. “Ah. Clever girl.”

“What?” Runaan asked, suspicious.

“I should’ve known what that wicked twinkle in her eye was about when I told her I’d come searching for you. She’s letting me do the mentioning for her, right now. She knows us too well, love.”

Runaan blinked. Rayla and the human prince? Together? The scheming young couple had left Ethari to search for his husband, and to unwittingly break the news of their courtship to him, knowing that Runaan would take such disturbing news best from the elf he loved most.

That didn’t mean he’d take it well.

“I’ll be right back.” Runaan spun on his heel, stalking directly toward Katolis.

Ethari planted his feet and towed Runaan right back around in front of him, though. He pulled the wayward assassin into his arms and kissed him right on his frown. “Welcome back! I missed you. Again.” His dark brows bent softly.

Runaan’s tense expression broke, and his eyebrows drifted high in dismay at what he’d just tried to do. He clung to Ethari’s muscled arms and pressed his forehead against his husband’s. “Moon help me, I am a great stupid moonberry.”

“Yes, you are. And I love you anyway.” Ethari’s embrace was gentle and warm.

Runaan pressed a soft kiss of apology against his husband’s lips and let it linger, soaking up Ethari’s patience. “Walk with me again, then, and…”

“And?”

Runaan took a deep breath and slid his fingers between his husband’s. “And... tell me of Callum. Apparently, I have quite a bit of catching up to do.”

Ethari grinned and nudged Runaan’s shoulder with his own. “As my moonberry wishes.”

#ruthariweek2021 #ruthari #ruthari fanfic #runaan #ethari #my writing #my fanfic #tdp angst #angst and fluff #soft elf husbands #a whole rainbow of feels in here #they gotta catch up see

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