#being afraid to settle for too long because then she'd put down roots and be forever stuck in one place

[thisisnotthenerd]

laudna’s form of dread is now a manifestation of the sun tree, and no longer the veiled ghost. she’s also seemingly without a patron at the moment, given that we haven’t heard from delilah in a while.

full offense to delilah, she doesn’t need more screen time. i would love it if bell’s hells actually managed to stamp her out of laudna. i’m sure they could make a full storyline in arc 3 about squeezing her for information on the assembly and fully purging her, but i think it would be cool for laudna to go somewhere else with it. to feel safe drawing on her warlock powers and to know that she’s no longer the contingency plan of the person that she was collateral damage for.

the idea here is that laudna starts drawing on the sun tree. it doesn’t quite hit the qualifications of a celestial patron even though it was blessed by pelor, so i don’t know how it could be made into a warlock patron without homebrew. also. celestial warlock is heavily based on light and radiance, so you’d get a fun little juxtaposition of a shadow sorcerer pulling on something that makes her do radiant damage. i would probably pull a few druid spells, but that feels like it’s encroaching a little bit on fearne & orym’s territory, so maybe not.

think about it. when you die, your body starts to feed the earth and decompose. the sun tree was dead/dying in the presence of the briarwoods, and came to life again during the revolution against them. it lived in her head just as delilah did--perhaps after being raised, and knowing it can talk, laudna can make conversation with something else that lived in her head for years.

i think its request would be to plant saplings of it, the way keyleth did in zephrah. give the sun tree a chance to spread beyond whitestone and take in the light of other places. funny little way to do this: laudna lays down & goes to sleep at night--in the morning she has to disentangle herself from a bed of roots.

[colettearsine]

One or two things gave Colette more pleasure than hearing that everyone's shit was falling apart. Schadenfreude was like her bread and butter — or, probably more aptly, her free cocaine — and she devoured it like a prom night cheerleader gearing up for her last hurrah. All this drama had zero to do with her (outside of it involving her family, in that it involves Nova) but she would remain in arm's length of it in case someone needed a proper shove off a precipice.

"I don't think anyone needs to settle down to grow up. That's a precedent set by society to try and cage everyone into an idea of normal that doesn't exist. The construct of the adult life implies that you are not allowed to have fun beyond being a child, all the while ALSO telling you that as a child you should start preparing to become an adult — warning you against all the shit that's coming to make you so afraid of having fun that you'll stay in line. And the fact that we, as a gender, keep doing this fucking infighting is a mark of indoctrination by the notion that women exist as competition for attention, to keep us on the straight and narrow and make sure that we're so busy fighting each other we don't see the shitty men around us who are the root of that evil. Then again, men are taught that if they're anything but womanizing assholes that they're somehow weak so I guess it's bad on both sides?" Colette let all this flow with the practiced ease of someone who truly and fully believed every word of it.

There was probably nothing Colette hated more than a double-standard... or, really, a standard at all. Yes, she would say that she was the best in whatever she did and wherever she was she felt like she was at the top, but it had nothing to do with putting others into boxes. She just knew how to stand on top of a box to see the bigger picture. Now if only she could give a shit about something long enough to make it matter.

She wasn't a misogynist or a misandrist and likely wouldn't even consider herself a feminist, but more an egalitarian looking at things from all angles and seeing that the idea of mutual equality is a wonderful idea but harder in practice, which she'd guess place her as a nihilist more than anything. Viva la resistance.

All the while Colette was watching Nova move; this was it, this was the way she handled things, the way she coped. Keep moving and the thoughts won't plague you as much as they usually did and, honestly, Colette understood the idea of it. Maybe that's why she was always doing so much dangerous shit? To keep her mind off the other thousand things that could drag her down?

... Nah, Colette is flawless and she knows it. She does the things she does for the sake of doing them. Because she can and knows that, if push comes to shove, she will always be the one left standing. Still, Nova gets more consideration than most and Colette's willing to conceded that she respects the hustle and the literal hustle to keep her mind occupied.

This rang especially true as Nova admitted she knew where she belonged, "Shit, bitch. It's about fucking time. I know you've felt it for a while but I feel like you've never said it. Like saying it makes it too real or some shit. The truth is you are better than most of these people because you have actual aspirations and dreams."

The cigarette was snaked back after a moment to be pulled and her eyes closed for a moment, holding it back out towards Nova with a slow exhale of smoke through her nose, looking very much the part of some kind of knock-off Disney villain revealing themselves as a dragon, "I'm never gonna grow up how they want me. Never have, never will. But if you want to settle down in your dreams and have that two and a half kids with the doting partner and penthouse then by all means... just make sure you can afford a nanny because kids are the fucking worst."

Having been one, she had intimate knowledge, of course.

The scoff that left her mouth was nasty. "Excuse me? I have absolutely evolved since high school." Grabbing a cup for herself, Nova filled it with water and a tea bag, minus the milk, and allowed it to seep. The thought of Brie and Elliott getting back together caused her stomach to churn. Elliott deserved so much better than that demon spawn. However, she'd never voice this aloud to anyone but Colette. In this moment though, she actually chose to keep it to herself.

Her best friend has just gotten back and would be making her rounds. It wasn't lost on her that her best friend was friends with the others. She knew that Colette had her back like a brace, but she also knew her friend had a knack for running her mouth. Yes, she'd kept her secrets, mainly about her and Elliott's private talks and late night meet ups but her just talking shit was a different story. She didn't need no beef with Brie over him when they already had Gabe to worry about.

"You really don't think their situation is serious?" Nova asked. Colette hadn't been around to witness it but Nova was. She'd seen their love first hand and while it was short-lived, it didn't feel like a farce. Plus, she knew Gabriel. He was good for a break-up, make up. Their own history was the proof in the pudding. Nova knew it was only a matter of time before they were back in each others arms. "Lette, you know I just want someone to understand my passion and support me while I create. It's really that simple." She sighed, taking a long slow sip of her tea. "We've got to grow up at some point and apart of that is settling down with someone for good. Brie was the first of us to try, but it's coming sooner or later. That seems like settling the baggage aside to me... or at least a solid attempt."

Out of habit, Nova continued to tinker around the kitchen, placing the milk back and the like. The silence of Colette thinking was killing her. Her friend was so rapid-fire, so off the cuff that when she actually took a moment to gather her response, she knew it was going to be something. And boy was it. Dropping her weight back against the counter, her head shook. "Where else am I supposed to go?" It was an honest question. "Been in this shit for so long now, I'd feel severely out of place anywhere else." Nova hated to say it but she was admitting it - she enjoyed the elitist drama bullshit. There was never a dull moment. She'd played the 'I don't belong, I'm better than this' card for years, but they all knew, she was right where she belonged.

She could have bailed out years ago. She was still here because it was her place. "Because at the end of the day I am not better than this. Like the rest of you, I live for this shit. Plus, working with the likes of Brie raises my status in this art world, rather I like it or not. I need her." So help her God, if Brie ever found out that she'd said that, she'd die.

Reaching over, she plucked the cigarette from Colette's thin fingers and took a long slow drag of it herself. Looking at her friend through her eyelashes, as she released a cloud of smoke. "Now you know I do..." Of course, she was talking about Elliott.

[amethystpath-writes]

Can Only Move the Eyes

Original Work

Can Only Move the Eyes

@badthingshappenbingo

Small Description: an immortal sorceress is trying to rid herself of immortality by taking the life of the one she loves.

******

You're strong, the lady's voice said, but not strong enough to counter my powers.

If Tysin could growl, he would have, but he couldn't move. Even his breaths were controlled by the sorceress at his side.

Have you had training? Defense against magic? the sorceress, named Giladiasana- Sana, for short- asked Tysin in his head. He could answer if he wanted, think a response loudly enough that she would hear, but he didn't care to talk to a woman who was about to bleed him dry.

Sana pushed a hard barrier on his mind, causing a sharp sting, one that would have made Tysin take a sharp intake of breath and even hold his head, but all he could do was squeeze his eyes shut. That was meant to happen differently, she whispered in his head.

When Tysin opened his eyes again, he glanced around, head unmoving, but eyes darting about. There was glass everywhere. Mostly bottles full of discoloured liquids. Other pieces of glass- colourful ones- dangled about on strings. Tysin assumed it was sea glass. The sorceress's hut was an alcove by the beach so it made sense.

You're ignoring me. Very nice. Sana purred in his mind and it felt to Tysin like it wrapped around his brain. He felt dizzy despite being entirely still.

Why shouldn't I? he finally replied. You pretended to be a friend and now I'm paralyzed. He laughed mentally and added, But let me guess. I should be grateful that I can move my eyes, right?

The sorceress crossed the room. She left Tysin's field of vision as he was laid down. Still, she reached out to his mind. How powerful was she? Depends, Sana sighed. Would you feel better if I kept your eyes closed while I did this?

In truth, he wasn't sure if not seeing was better or worse. Sure the sorceress' home was somewhat fascinating to look at- even if his vision was limited- but wouldn't it be a taunt when she finally dragged a blade across his arm and he began bleeding out? He'd rather see the sky while he died than a bunch of dried roots, twigs, and strange shapes made of clay.

Why are you doing this? Why me?

Which should I answer first?

Sana entered Tysin's sight again. If he could have, he would have lunged at her from his table. Just answer.

You're angry, she observed first. You don't have to be. I don't intend on killing you. I like you.

Tysin would have scoffed at this, except he couldn't imagine scoffing without his chest huffing, and his chest couldn't move. It was like his mind forgot what scoffing was without actually having the action. Whereas laughing was mostly a sound, scoffing required an attached feeling. He didn't have that feeling. It was odd. He blamed Sana.

As for why you...well it's what I just said. I like you, and I don't want to get rid of you. If you had been someone else, I might have killed you to complete my goal. But... Tysin rolled his eyes. The sorceress needed to stop pretending she had any amount of feeling for him. She was cleaning a damn blade so that she could cut him open. She didn't like him. She was keeping him, like a pet. You knew I was different from the moment you met me. You're observant like that. You knew there was something dangerous about me, but you still befriended me.

And this is how you repay me. Again, he wanted to scoff, but the concept was absent. Will it hurt? he asked instead. When I bleed out, will it hurt?

The cut would hurt, but I'll make sure you don't feel it, she said. Tysin was pissed hearing the genuineness in her voice. He refused to believe she felt any remorse for this. And anyway, I'm not bleeding you out, not fully. I'll have to do this a few times. The worst to happen is you'll feel faint and get a few headaches, but I have herbs to help with the latter.

Tysin didn't reply. He was confused- and angry, but mostly confused. Because she did sound sincere. She did sound like she cared, and like she didn't want to hurt him. But if she didn't want to...then why was she? What do you need me for? Why my blood? What are you using it for? He wanted to ask again, why him? Why not some other man or woman she'd met? Why did it have to be someone she apparently cared about? There were too many questions, and it seemed like there weren't enough answers. What she was doing was heathenish and no explanation could be enough.

I'm selfish, Sana told him. There was a long pause and Tysin's chest rose suddenly as the sorceress' did, too. She must have accidentally projected her own actions onto him. His eyes went wide at the swell of feeling. At the same time his chest had rose, he felt something ripping in his arm.

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean-

The pain in his arm increased and he screamed, his arm jerking to his chest. The skin on his chest felt warm, and he discovered he had mobility in his neck again as he looked down. Sana's control over him had slipped and he felt the pain she caused. She'd stuck the knife in his arm and it was bleeding now, bleeding through his shirt and settling on his skin.

"Tysin, I didn't- I'm sorry. I meant to numb you, but I- What am I doing?" sana sounded angry with the last question.

She rushingly put a hand on Tysin's shoulder, and he fell still again. His arm stung as it slammed against the table. He would have grunted but Sana had control again. His eyes were stuck in a pained squint. They burned as he couldn't blink.

"I've never-" Sana paced beside the table. Tysin didn't see the knife anymore. Had she dropped it. "I don't want to do this," she stressed. "But it's all I want, too." Was she sniffling? "You can still feel. Shit."

In the next moment, the pain in Tysin's arm was gone, and so was the warmth of his own blood on his chest when he cradled his arm. His eyes could move again, too, and he found himself actually be grateful that she'd decided to let them move unlike the rest of his body.

"You know what, I'm just going to say it." Sana took a deep breath. "There's a lot to it, but I'll simplify it as much as I can." Another breath. "I'm not just a sorceress, or a witch, or whatever you want to call me. Before that, I was- you'll never believe me..." Sana sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'm a god. Or was. I was a god before I was made a sorceress on this Earth. And I'm immortal. I know it sounds crazy; I'm not even sure that you believe in the gods, but they do exist. The gods are real and they're the reason that I'm here as I am.

"I wanted to be mortal. I didn't want to be a god anymore, and they called me cowardice for wanting to abandon my powers and control. But I...life isn't worth living if you can't die. Why should I like to create if what I create has an expiration date and I don't? I want to die, Tysin. I don't want to live forever."

What does this-

You can talk. Sana nodded at him.

Tysin let his lips part before licking them. He tested his jaws, opening and closing his mouth and letting his teeth clack together. He ran his tongue along the backs of his teeth and along the skin of his cheek.

Finally, he spoke, "What does any of that have to do with me?" he asked. He didn't say whether or not he believed her outlandish story.

She swallowed. "They punished me," she explained. "They put me on a land of mortals and made me into another immortal, a one-of-a-kind. They made me into a target on this land. Witches were a scary tale created by mortals and the gods made it real, made me into that fictional form. I still want to die, so they surrounded me with death, and made it so that I can still never die."

Tysin gave a blank look. This still had nothing to do with him. She was avoiding the answer.

Sana caught onto his impatience and nodded, getting on with it all. "They have given me a choice. I still value the mortals as my creation. They are precious to me. So..." She sighed like she had done so often today. "I can obtain a mortal life for myself, but only if I kill a mortal I love." Sana walked closer to the table so that she could look Tysin in the eyes. "And I love you, but...I can't kill you. I won't." Her brows pinched together. "But I have to." Sana shook her head.

"You asked if it would hurt and before you asked that, I was still considering following through. I'm selfish, I'll say it again. But when you asked me that...I couldn't let you die. So what I want to do now is..." She grunted in aggravation. "There's so much playing into this. Okay, there are about 5.7 liters of blood in a human's body. And since blood is what allows for life, I must take yours for myself- drink it. What I want to do now, because I won't kill you, is I'll take 5.7 liters of your blood, but over a course of time. I'll take some today, let you recover. Take more another day, recover. And I'll keep doing that until I have enough to equate to one life."

Sana smiled, for the first time today. "Then we can both be mortal and I can love you until we both die. I won't have to be afraid of the person I love dying and therefore having to live on my own without them."

Tysin was almost in shock at the overload. "That...wasn't very simplified."

She gave a huff of a laugh, eyes bright.

"Let me get this straight. You want to take my life so that you can experience death?"

"In a way. I'm not actually taking your life because I won't be killing you, but yes. I am taking your blood so that we can be together."

What makes you think I want to be with you? Who was she to believe he would just be okay with her taking his blood? Sana was out of her mind! Sure she was a sorceress; he believed that in full. But an immortal god? One that needed his blood to overcome a neverending life? No. No, she was crazy.

But, he supposed, this is more up to my own selflessness now.

Sana could find another person to love. Love was limitless and could be presented in many forms. There's motherly love and platonic love. Romantic and admiration. Sana could make a new friend and do this to them instead of Tysin, but it didn't seem okay to do that. This was now a test of Tysin's morals, not the sorceress'. Could he be as selfish as her? Put someone else's life at risk or have them bled out day by day like Sana was proposing she do to him? No. Absolutely not.

"It's okay," Tysin said to the sorceress leaning over him. It wasn't okay. Not at all, but he wouldn't risk someone else's life for his own. Wouldn't make someone else go through being cut open ever day or week or however often it might happen to him. Tysin considered asking Sana to go ahead and kill him, but he knew she wouldn't do that. She loved him so much that she lost control even when she'd first hurt him with the knife. "Do what you must."

******