#braces forest hill village

[calaroseeey]

Dancing in Fields of Sage Blossoms: Chapter One

Adar x Galadriel. Rated T+. 3130 words. Chapter 1 / ?

Chapter One: An Unexpected Semblance

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Light fell through the canopy of trees above. Adar stood among the towering birch and holly just beyond the fallen city. Autumn had come swiftly and the forest displayed the fullness of color. Wind blew gently in these parts, and the sun shined warm.

On his unblemished hand, the ring glittered like polished gold overlaid with silver light. She was more beautiful when the sunshine touched her, yet it appeared to him that she possessed a light in and of herself, not unlike the light of the Lady Alatáriel.

The ring had given him more power than he hoped for, but above all, a sudden wisdom which had come bright as the break of dawn.

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Second Age, 1156

The Southlands

Galadriel’s white horse ran through the dense forest. The rider she sought after led an orc attack on a nearby Southland village, and tried to flee on horseback during battle.

She calculated him to be an emissary of the Dark Lord. She did not know if she was chasing an orc or a sorcerer or even a mortal man. Truthfully, she did not care what he was, only that he could lead her to his master.

Orcs had ravaged the southern countryside for years now. Local word told that the orcs were under this nameless commander, from whose army wrought death and toil. For why else would he seek to reclaim the land of Mordor, if not for for Dark Lord?

The dark-clad rider effortlessly outmaneuvered her, gracing over fallen trees and dried brush. The forest seemed to darken the deeper they went westward, down and over hills and across small streams. She bent closer to her horse and sped faster over ground, and soon she was right behind him. Metal armor clanged against itself on his brown horse, decorated intricately in red and black.

Halbrand, her companion as of late, approached riding from the north-west, intercepting them. There was not enough time for the commander to change his course as Halbrand quickly advanced.

She could not hear her companion mutter in Black Speech, nor did she notice how unnaturally swift his movement was for a mortal man. She did however, see him hold out a pike and trip the commander’s horse, sending him crashing into the dry ground.

Galadriel watched from a near distance as the commander, his face still in the dry pine layered ground, attempted half-wittingly to crawl forward for his sword which had fallen. Halbrand approached and without warning drove his pike into the commander’s outstretching hand. He muttered a single cry, but did not try to fight. He resigned his head onto the ground. Halbrand kicked him over on his back.

“You remember me?” Halbrand spoke low, as if withholding great anger. The commander took several moments.

“No.” He said at last.

Halbrand continued to stare at him, and nodded slightly. He stepped on his arm as he pulled up his pike out from his hand. He moved his foot to his chest and went to strike him.

A sudden panic seized Galadriel.

“Stop!” She set foot off her horse. “We need him alive! I need him alive.”

“You don’t know what he did.” Halbrand spoke hoarsely, keeping the tip of the blade against his throat.

“Did I cause someone you love pain?” The commander spoke low and coarse, as if speaking at all caused difficulty, yet his voice held a vague familiarity. “A woman, perhaps? Or a child?”

Halbrand fought against tears and couldn’t hold the pike steady.

“Halbrand.” She ordered. “Put it down. One cannot satisfy thirst by drinking seawater.”

He met her gaze. After a moment of hesitation, the pike dropped to his side. The commander still laid on the ground.

She began to approach Halbrand and their captive. Dried brush and fallen branches littered the ground and crunched under her step. The commander managed to sit up, bracing himself against the ground, with his back turned to her. Halbrand kept his pike at the ready.

She walked around him. His head was bowed and long dark hair fell around his face. Then he raised his head, and the face of her husband stared up at her.

Her eyes did not deceive her. The centuries that passed seemed like a moment’s leave. Intrinsically she expected him to greet her as he always had, and give her an explanation that would make sense to her heart in spite of appearances. She fought against her will to reach for him and take him into her embrace.

Then a cold truth settled into her heart, spreading to joint and marrow. His face was scarred and deathly pale like the moon. Yet his eyes were the same blue clear and bright as the sea. She searched for any hint of recognition in them, but found none.

“Would you care to explain to me why you are here?” She asked, at last. He did not respond. She could not read anything from his face, his gaze was distant and cold. Not just time stood between them.

“Galadriel,” Halbrand spoke quietly, “There are orcs in this forest. We must move. Let us move your interrogation into the village.”

Halbrand raised him up and shackled his hands behind him, the one still dripping with dark blood. Questions flooded her mind faster than she could respond.

“I will take him.” Halbrand began tying a rope from his horse to the shackles before Galadriel could protest.

She wanted to order him to be gentle, but thought better of it. The ride back to the village was quick, though her mind was whirling and restless. Halbrand led the captive inside an unused barn, threw him down and chained him to a wooden beam. Remnants of hay lined the wooden floor. Sun slivered through the broken beams of the arched ceiling.

“Leave us.” She ordered. Halbrand swiftly walked past her, not bothering to look at her. Now they were alone. She gained the strength to walk up to where he was chained. He was sitting against the beam, his head bowed.

“Now,” she began, “will you tell me, why you are here?”

He said nothing.

“You have survived.” 

“Survived what?” His voice was coarse and worn.

“Morgoth.” She stood still, analyzing him. “Why do you command the orcs?”

“I command them as you command your soldiers.” He answered, still refusing to meet her eyes.

“I have heard stories of elves taken by Morgoth. Tortured, twisted. I hardly believed such rumors to be true, that some had bent to his will. That soldiers sent out to fight against the darkness would join it.” She turned to look out the broken barn doors. “I beg you give me evidence against such claims.”

He looked on in silence.

“Why have you forsaken yourself?” She searched his face for some semblance of understanding. “You have dishonored your name and your house.”

“My name is Adar.”

“Adar? You lie. What is your name?”

“It is what I am called.”

“From whom? Your orc army?” She laid her hand on the hilt of her dagger at her waist. “Tell me why you command the orcs.”

“Uruk. They are called Uruk. They are beings made of the secret fire, the same as you. Each one has a name, a heart-“

“A heart created by Morgoth.”

“Each is worthy of the breath of life, and just as worthy of a home.”

“Perhaps we should bring our prisoners into the sunlight.” She walked closer, tightening her grip on her dagger. “Why has Sauron given you charge over these orcs?”

“The value of my existence is to provide for them. There is no life for me apart from that.” Adar stared at the ground, and his eyes were still distant. “I do not serve the one you call Sauron, my lady. After Morgoth’s defeat, he devoted himself to healing Middle-earth, bringing its ruined lands together in perfect order. He sought to craft a power not of the flesh, but over flesh. But something was missing. Still he persisted, no matter how much blood spilt in his pursuit. For my part, I sacrificed enough of my children for his aspirations. I split him open. I killed Sauron.”

“I do not believe you.”

“Soon this land will be ours. Then you will understand.”

“No,” she knelt down before him. “There will be no understanding. And there will be no mercy. Do not force me to drive my blade into your poisoned heart.”

“It would seem I am not the only elf alive who has been transformed by darkness. Perhaps your search for Morgoth’s successor should have ended in your own mirror.”

She drew her dagger and knelt over him, gently pushing the blade against his neck and turning his face to hers. Now, he met her eyes. He was still, and hadn’t even flinched at her approach. Memories of being this close to him came rushing to the front of her mind.

Still his eyes were empty. She wondered if some creature of darkness had found itself in his discarded body, eating away his mind and heart.

“Don’t you remember?” Her voice rose barely above a whisper.

“Galadriel.” Halbrand warned, approaching them. She did not alter her position. Nor did Adar respond in any way. Her heart strained to close the distance even still. She quickly extinguished the thought.

“You betray yourself.” She whispered in his ear, close enough to almost graze his skin. Her blade pressed into his skin enough to draw blood, then she retreated and stood a few feet back. The blood slowly dripped down his neck, yet he kept his hands resigned against his bent knees.

She turned away from him, holding in tears, nauseated and dizzy. Then she took one last look at him as he met her eyes. Still, there was nothing, as if the waters had frozen over. Sheathing her dagger, she walked out of the barn.

Evening had come. Fog was settling over the fields of crops. Halbrand found Galadriel sitting on broken-off part of a fallen tree, near the edge of the forest. The waning sunshine drifted through the trees, bathing the forest in a misty haze. She was staring at her unsheathed dagger, turning it over in her hand, dark blood now dried on the blade. He sat beside her.

“Thank you,” she said, “for pulling me back.”

“You pulled me back first.”

As dusk set, they were welcomed into a villager’s house to stay. They sat quietly on the ground, each left to their own thoughts. Images of the elf she once knew chained in the barn kept replaying over and over again in her mind, while her reason fought against itself to know how all this came to be.

“What happened?” She looked at Halbrand. Already weary from their travels, the question took too much of her strength.

He was silent. The golden orange hue of the of the heath-fire danced off his profile.

“What did he do to you?” She laid her hand on his shoulder, desperate for answers. “You can tell me.”

Halbrand took a sharp inhale before turning to her. “Galadriel, sometimes there are wounds too great to be spoken of.”

His response hurt more than if he had just told her. Now she was left to imagine. “Whatever it is he did to you,” she offered, “and whatever it was you did, be free of it.”

“I never believed I could be,” he gazed into the fire, “until today. Fighting at your side, I felt- if I could just hold onto that feeling, keep me with it always, bind it to my very being, then I…”

“I felt it too.” 

Halbrand looked over at her, the light of the fire illuminating him among the dark room. She stood and went into the kitchen, and took out her dagger to pour some water on the blade before scraping off the blood with a cloth. She recalled earlier in their journey when they rode horseback together across open plane, the cool summer breeze whipping her hair, the sun bathing the lands in evening light. It was the closest she’d felt to flying. Now, her whole being and body was weighed and twisted with grief. She returned to where Halbrand was sitting still around the heath, though she felt no warmth from it. For the first time in centuries, she spoke of Celeborn. She told him of the war, and when he was lost.

“I thought him dead for the longest time,” she told Halbrand.

“And now?”

“I’m not sure anymore.”

She wondered if he could see through her. Looking back, perhaps he did.

Day had come again. Upon Galadriel’s order, the Númenorean men killed the several orcs they had taken prisoner. The men dragged the bodies into an area beside the meadows which was barren and without any brush to burn them. Smoke rose up into the summer sky and the burnt smell tinged the formerly fragrant meadow air.

Halbrand had taken to speaking with young men of Númenor who had come as aid, and offered his assistance with ordinary dealings to help recuperate the soldiers and villagers. There was a feast to celebrate their victory and the death of their aggressors. Still Adar was chained in the barn. Númenorean guards stood post outside. Nobody brought him food nor drink. They did, however, routinely check if he was still alive, as he had taken to laying on the ground in silence. One guard told that he had seen the prisoner crying quietly.

Halbrand had advised the Númenorean commander against announcing his kingship over these lands. She did as he asked, though not without question from Galadriel.

She had kept herself to providing advice and training for the soldiers; yet had not once stepped back into the barn, unable to bring herself to face him again. She suffered his death once. And now, she found out that he had not truly died but lived on in a state worse than death; his body lived on, while his memory was lost and his heart poisoned. She rehearsed many questions and ways to talk to him, but never gathered enough strength to confront him.

Days passed, yet the Southlands were not won. Soon more orcs were were sent to attempt a rescue for their commander, and many neighboring villages were pillaged. They were outnumbered beyond count. And the burning mountain Orodruin once again bled fire and smoke. Many died in the flame, and a great deal more died afterwards in the ash-covered land and by the hands of orcs.

Galadriel had watched, before leaving with the rest of her company, as fire encapsulated the village and the place where Adar was held. A thought sprung forth from her heart, to run into the flame and save him. Instead, she turned on her horse and fled.

If there be hope for him, the Valar would preserve his life. Thus she abandoned him to fate. She left the Southlands to Eregion, where she dwelt with her cousin Celebrimbor. Halbrand was welcomed there. It was beyond her why he abandoned his lands soon after Mordor had been reclaimed by darkness. Now more than ever did the Southlands need their king. Halbrand told her he was yet unfit for kingship and had much to learn. So she had sent him to Lindon to be trained in the ways of Elven fighting, but not after long he decided to return to Eregion and take up apprenticeship under Celebrimbor.

Galadriel’s search for her husband ended once she met Adar. She withdrew parties still searching for survivors within his troops. Mostly, she feared what would be discovered. If her husband’s fate was as terrible as it is, she dared not consider what happened to the rest of the soldiers. Fear dwelt in those gaps of knowledge.

Galadriel remained in Eregion. Though she spent greater time of days and years pouring over histories and legends, she did not loose sight of her enemy. More than ever was she determined to put an end to Sauron and all that remained of the echo of Morgoth.

Seasons came and went. The records in the great library and its histories had run dry. There was no king of the Southlands. When she went to confront Halbrand, she had found he had already departed from Eregion.

She sent armed search parties out to find him. They searched for years, scouring elven lands and beyond. No trace could be found of him. After twenty years she abandoned her search of the southlander.

She caught rumors that the nameless commander become known as the Lord of the Orcs. Darkness spread across the Southlands, into the villages and forests beyond Mordor. Yet there was no word of Sauron, nor of any other commander of orcs in Middle-earth.

Elrond would pry her. She would remain silent. And soon the passage of time made her secret too great to reveal now. The memory of her husband among the Elves was honorable. She couldn’t bring herself to shatter their perception of him, and therefore her. Especially after years of keeping such knowledge to herself.

The pain of Adar’s return sowed seeds of sorrow; while the furrows were tended to by grief in the desolation of her heart.

“Why did you return rather than pass over Sea?” Celebrimbor asked her once, in his forge at Ost-in-Edhil.

“Angrod is gone, and Aegnor is gone, and Felagund is no more, nor is the one I once called my beloved. Of Finarfin’s children I am the last. But my heart is still proud. What wrong did the golden house of Finarfin do that I should ask the pardon of the Valar, or be content with an isle in the sea? Here I am mightier. There is much work to be done yet in Middle-earth.”

She departed Eregion and dwelt in Lothlórien, where she was welcomed by King Amroth. Sadness imbed itself so deep in her soul that she was indistinguishable from the tragedies she’d endured. Yet, she let not her years be wasted. Her life brimmed with the promise of meaning, the dawn-light of possibility. Years were spent in employ of the High-King, as well as dealing with matters of the Galadhrim elves of Lothlórien. Still, she sent out soldiers every few years to look for signs of the Dark Lord, though she did not clarify the intentions of their mission.

The ever flowing passage of time kept on. The seeds, watered by tears, soon sprung forth an ache which spread from heart to bone. She had not known darkness before coming to Middle Earth. Now, her naivety and softness had grown cold.

As the world resigns itself to a blue-grey once the shadows of dusk sweep over, so her heart had resigned itself to sorrow.

[revasserium]

fear every raindrop

sasuke; 837 words; fluff and angst but mostly just atmospheric-ness. for @dira333

sasuke has always loved the rain; it has always spoken to him in ways the cloudless blues of a sunstruck sky could never (but he’s certain naruto could have). he has always understood the thick rumble of a horizon line jagged with thunder; he has always appreciated the deep sorrow of each tiny raindrop, which together can form a torrent so large it has the power to drown out a whole village. because he understands sorrow — if nothing else.

and his whole life has been loss, hasn’t it? a constant and immutable stream of losing, of waking each morning wondering what else the world will take today, and going to sleep each night knowing the answer is — always more than you think.

he meets you on a rainy day.

outside a way station, beside a dirt road that seems to run parallel to the turning world, he catches you falling — actually falling, slipping on a patch of mud. his single arm bars across your chest, knocking the wind from you even as you wheeze, your nose nearly catching the drenched earth beneath you.

“careful,” he says, his voice soft as he helps you straighten again. and one glance at you tells him that you’re the furthest thing from a ninja a person could be: innocent. it shines through you like a beacon, beckons to him like a lighthouse on a deserted shore and he finds himself irrevocably drawn to you — a magnet to his compass rose, the moon’s pull to the tide’s endless flow.

“th-thanks! sorry…” you laugh, ducking your head into a short, awkward sort of bow as you straighten to peer up at him through your rain-slicked bangs. he fights the urge to look away.

“are you…”

sasuke bites back a wince for the words he knows will come, the curiosity, the realization, and then — inevitably — the accusation. he braces for it.

and…

“are you hungry?”

sasuke blinks.

you’re grinning up at him, not a single thread of apprehension in sight as you lace your fingers behind your back and motion towards the thin strip of forest path.

“my family owns a ramen place in the town just over this hill — i was running an errand, but i got caught in the rain — thank god you were here to save me!” your smile is bright, so bright and defiantly so against the gloom of the weather above you. the rain has yet to abate but sasuke thinks that he doesn’t mind. your smile is more than enough to shelter him from the storm.

“ah…” he doesn’t know what to say, because no one had ever trained him for this, not in the delicate dance of propriety, not in the precarious balance between casual jest and incrimination. he finds that he has no tools in his arsenal for this, but then —

“c’mon, my treat. it’s the least i can do for my savior!”

savior.

he savors that word, basks in the halcyon glow of his warmth, wishes he could sink his fingers into the heart of its brightness, tip it back into his mouth and swallow it whole. he wishes it was something that, someday, he might be truly deemed to be.

it is not as good as irchiraku’s. but then again, very few things are. though, you make up for it in your animated ramblings, in the way you introduce him to the sweet-faced woman behind the counter as you brush through the doorway of the tiny ramen shop, in the way you crouch down to scritch a fat orange cat behind the ears, stepping aside so he can offer his own hand for the cat to sniff and inspect.

the fat, orange cat levels him with a severe sort of gaze before it slumps back down and opens his mouth his great, big yawn.

“i think he likes you!”

sasuke can only nod, shaking his bangs out to cover his eyes, hiding behind that one last bastion of darkness as you lead him to a back table.

it is not as good as ichiraku’s… but he finds himself hesitant to leave all the same.

outside, the storm still brews, thick and angry just beyond the tops of those faraway trees.

“you should stay till the storm blows out — it’s dangerous to go wandering in this weather!”

sasuke almost laughs, because when was the last time someone had ever put him and danger in the same sentence without the implied causation? when was the last time someone had warned him of the danger, instead of warning of the danger of him?

he drinks his soup slowly, polishing off whole bowl with a soft exhale.

the sweet-faced woman smiles wide as she peers into his empty bowl.

“would you like seconds?”

sasuke sets down his chopsticks.

“please.”

it’s not as good as ichiraku’s but… it’s still the best ramen he’s had in years.

[cernunnara]

The Warden and the Witch

Summary:

Feyre Archeron is a wandering witch with the rare ability to glimpse into the future with her tarot cards - a blessing and a curse, that brings fear and suspicion wherever she goes. When her journey to the secluded town of Briar Hollow takes a dark turn, she's thrust into a deadly conflict between men and monsters, with a mysterious beast being an unlikely savior. As darker forces close in, Feyre realizes she must step up to uncover the truth behind the terror sweeping through Prythian. But with her visions clouded and the fate of many hanging in the balance, she soon realizes the survival may come at a steep cost.

AO3 / Or read below!

I braced my hand against the wall of the caravan for the nth time, trying to steady myself in the jostling wagon. 

Through the front opening of the cart, I watched as the setting sun cast long shadows over the valley we were slowly descending into. Nestled between the tall hills stood the walls of Briar Hollow, with the lights of the sprawling town flickering to life as dusk settled in. Encompassing the town was wide, open fields that stretched out, with a river snaking its way through the center of the lowlands, cutting through the city itself. On either side of the meadows, the treeline loomed, the dark trees standing like silent sentinels watching our approach.

It was almost serene, had there not been a lingering sense of dread hanging in the air.

The first reports that piled in had come from a lonely village in the far west, and thus had been dismissed as mere hysterics – farmers claiming that livestock was disappearing at alarming rates, and hunters finding the remains of their prey torn apart more violently than any ordinary animal. Yet the incidents grew more frequent and the evidence more gruesome. As the attacks started to find their way inland, it became difficult to ignore.

Rumors spread like wildfire. Rational elders tried to say it was just wolves, and that the brutal winter had driven them mad with hunger. As the spring continues on, they said, the attacks will subside as nature balances herself.

Bad news catches on quicker though; around campfires and tavern halls, tales of creatures that crept from the darkest recesses of the forest started to spread. They claimed these were no normal animals, but beasts of shadow and malice that were only spoken about in legend. The origin varied by storyteller; some claimed an old god was insulted and sent these as punishment, while others declared these were guardians of the Otherworld gone rogue, seeking out souls to drag back to unfathomable depths. Yet what stayed the same through each tale was their eyes glowing like embers and their teeth as large as a grown man’s fist – or so they say. 

The caravan master had taken the warnings seriously, always a superstitious man. He opted for the longer, more arduous route to the valley, away from the dense forests whose canopies blocked nearly all sunlight once inside. Even then, every cluster of trees they passed imparted a sense of foreboding on the party. The decision had added days to my journey, yet there was no other choice if I wanted to reach Briar Hollow.

I adjusted the hood of my cloak, pulling it tighter against the chill that was beginning to sweep into the wagon as nightfall approached. Reaching into the drawstring pouch at my side, my fingers brushed against the smooth edges of my tarot cards. A habit, born out of both comfort and caution. My tarot cards were my lifeline, letting me glimpse into both moments that had already passed, or were yet to come. To lose them was to lose my only source of clarity, and only source of income.

Throughout Prythian, magic was rare. Fewer still were those who could wield it with any real skill. But I was among the rarest – a witch whose powers could extend further than parlor tricks or fleeting charms. My magic rested deep within me, and seemed to run raw and untamed through my veins. 

It felt suffocating when I had first discovered it, with no outlet to ease the current that coursed through me. Attempts at releasing it always failed, leaving me more frustrated and fearful of the power within. One night, it seemed to consume me like a fever, the delirium driving me to rifle through anything in our little, dilapidated cottage that could provide relief, including what little remained of my mother’s belongings.

We had sold off most of her things after she passed, trying to scrape together enough to survive, but there were a few things my father had refused to sell. One was the enormous ironwood bed my sisters and I slept in, as it had once been my father’s wedding gift to my mother. The other was a worn wooden box, tucked beneath a stack of faded letters likely sent by debt collectors, but it’s not like I could read them anyway. 

In my frenzy I had torn into the wooden box, ripping off the dusty lid to find the unexpected – a deck of cards, seemingly untouched by time. They were far, far fancier than anything we could’ve afforded. Firm pieces of parchment, each carefully shaped. Dark paint covered most of it, with silver and gold leaf highlighting the important details. Figures of great power, terrible creatures of legend, and whimsical script danced across the deck as I inspected it. As I drew the first card, the chaos inside had begun to quiet, the wild energy finally finding a path to follow. Something innate within me recognized the cards and what they meant. The cards became a breath of fresh air, allowing me to channel the magic that threatened to drown me, offering me a glimpse of the clarity I had so desperately needed.

At first, I had thought my newfound ability to be entirely a boon, with people eager to know their fate willing to pay steep prices. It was a way out of the poverty that I and my sisters had been thrown into. But with that power soon came fear; when I presented bad news, their excitement would sour. My predictions always came to pass without fail, to the misfortune of many. I was soon regarded with suspicion, as a bad omen when I entered a room. 

It didn’t bother me - but I saw the way it weighed on my sisters. Whispers when we walked into town, as people stared in a mix of cautious curiosity and disgusted piousness. My sisters’ attempts at properly socializing, wearing the flimsy dresses we could barely afford, always seemed to be cut short at “Archeron? As in Feyre Archeron’s sisters? ”. 

Knowing it was as much of a curse as it was a blessing, and that the tales of my tarot reading would continue to spread, I accepted the life of a wanderer. Always on the move, never staying in one place long enough to let the whispers turn into something more dangerous. 

I limited the readings I offered as well. Every once in a while, when a fellow traveler would approach with a knowing glint in their eye and enough gold to get me to the next time, I would offer my services. The bargain was always the same: mutual discretion. For their gold and the promise to let me continue my journey undisturbed, I would not share whatever my readings uncovered for them.

The trail of bargain tattoos that once started at my shoulder was slowly descending down the length of my arm, with each reading adding another mark on my skin.

The caravan I traveled in was the only one willing to look the other way when I offered a fake name. They also didn’t question the pouch that hung at my waist, nor the runes carved along the hilt of the knife at my hip, nor the sleeve of tattoos that peeked out from underneath my shirt. Maybe they thought I was simply an overly superstitious woman, I told myself. Afraid of the deep, dark forest and whatever lurked inside of it. Or maybe they feared what kind of retribution I could unleash should I be snubbed, like an old god emerging from the Otherworld to test the generosity of mortals. Whatever it was, I was grateful to at least have a seat, even if no one sat next to me.

A gust of wind blew through the belly of the valley, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and the sound of the few trees that stood rustling together. I felt a shiver run down my spine, though whether it was from the cold or the unsettling atmosphere, I couldn’t be sure.

As the cart continued to amble onward, the details of Briar Hollow’s walls began to take shape. Sturdy stone blocks, illuminated by orange torchlight, seem to loom over the fields. Turrets, with dark silhouettes of armored individuals standing guard on top, dotted along the wall. It was no surprise, given the current fear that seemed to infect every town we passed through. Every shadow that crept out of the treeline could very well be a vicious beast, prowling in search of an unsuspecting victim.

I glanced back at the winding road behind us, half-expecting to see movement in the darkness, but there was nothing. Only the encroaching night, swallowing up the landscape and everything in it. In the distance, the first stars appeared, scattered across the sky like faint freckles.

The caravan rolled on, wheels creaking with every bump in the road, and as we continued along the road, I silently prayed that the rumors were just that – rumors. But deep down, I knew better. The cards had never lied before.

We slowed to a halt as we reached the gates of Briar Hollow. I could see the guards on the walls above, their outlines barely visible against the torchlight. The caravan master stepped out of the front cart and approached the gate, waving a hand to signal our arrival.

A tense silence filled the air as we waited. I could hear the distant murmur of the guards, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps on stone. We waited for the creak of the gates, but it never came. Instead, a single guard stood on the other side of the portcullis, his armor glinting as he approached.

“State your business”, the guard called out, his voice echoing in the quiet night.

The caravan master stepped forward, speaking with a respectful tone, “We seek shelter for the night, sir. Just a place to rest before we continue on our way.”

The guard’s eyes swept over the caravan, swiftly assessing each traveler and wagon in our party. He shook his head, “The town is under lockdown. No newcomers allowed after dusk – not with the attacks.”

“Surely you can make an exception,” the caravan master pleaded. “We have women and children with us. We’ve already added days to our journeys trying to avoid the worst of these dark terrors, we’ve no more faebane left.”

It was true. The faint blue powder that was faebane cost an arm and a leg, yet had been found to be the only substance that warded off the presence of the fiends that plagued the land. Every night, a small portion would be sprinkled in the cardinal directions of the camp. And every night, I had to suppress the shudder that overcame me when the caravan master walked by with the pouch. Something about the powder always seemed to feel off to me, but I had the good sense to not vocalize it.

For a moment, the guard seemed to hesitate. He turned his head, glancing back at a guard a few paces behind him. A silent exchange, then, “The order stands. You’ll have to camp outside the walls and wait until morning. The gates will open at dawn.”

A murmur of unease rippled through the caravan. The thought of spending the night outside the safety of the walls, with only the firelight and the dark forest around us, was less than ideal. Sure, the open fields of the valley were a small comfort, but the treeline enveloping the glen seemed menacing in the low light. Yet there was no arguing with the guard’s authority, not if we wanted to be let in at all.

The caravan master gave a reluctant nod, turning back to us. “We’ll make camp here for the night,” he announced, his voice carrying a tone of resignation. “Keep your fires lit, stay close, and we’ll arrange a rotation of guards.”

We moved off the road, the wagons struggling to make their way through the grass. Horses were unhitched from carts, and led off to rest and graze for the night. Members of the caravan worked quickly to light fires before the night truly fell on us, their flames casting long shadows that danced across the ground. Small tents were pitched in tight clusters around the blazes, everyone afraid to be the one lonely soul on the fringes of the camp.

I tried my best to lend a hand, offering to help prop up tents or pass out food. An older woman, in charge of rations, looked at me up and down before claiming she had all the aid she needed. I told myself it didn’t matter, and that it was less work for me to do anyway, but it still stung in a way I couldn’t quite place.

As I laid out my bedroll on the outskirts of a small fire, I took a minute to organize what little possessions I had. Folding my cloak and gently tucking my knife between layers of fabric, I wedged it underneath my pillow. The drawstring pouch that held my cards was gently placed in my leather satchel, settling between a canteen that held a pitiful amount of water and a few strips of wrapped, dried beef. A small purse carried a few coins; enough to get me through this town, but I’d have to earn more soon. Scattered around the bottom of the bag were loose charms and trinkets, including a parting gift from my father: a little wooden wolf, carved by his hand.

I sighed, the tension in the air and heaviness of dismissal weighing on me, before looping the straps of my bag between my legs to deter any thievery. Traveling with this caravan had been fine thus far, but my instincts never allowed me to let my guard down. Besides, I’d have to find a new group to travel with soon enough, and it was best to not break any survival habits. 

From my bedroll I could spot a few members of the caravan beginning to take up watch positions, arming themselves with simple weaponry and torches as they patrolled the edges of the little camp we set up. In the distance, Briar Hollow seemed to taunt us, the walls curving around the hillside like a grin. Fireflies hovered in the field, each blinking of their light a mockery of a great beast’s glowing eyes.

Night had fully settled in, and the camp was quiet, with the silence only being broken by the occasional crackle from the fires and the footsteps of amateur sentries. I closed my eyes, hoping to find some rest before the dawn came.

But rest was not what the night had in store for us.

A distant howl broke the silence, low and haunting, sending a chill down my spine. I shot up, straining to hear more. The howl had been abnormal, guttural. This was not the cry of a wolf calling out to his pack, but rather something seeking prey. 

The howl rang out again, joined by others, and was closer now, echoing through the trees. My heart raced as I scanned the darkness, but there was nothing – only the tree line blending into the oppressive night sky and a sense of terror spearing through the camp.

Others stirred as the guards cried out, scrambling to identify what direction the baying had come from, murmurs of fear beginning to grow louder and louder. The caravan master was already up, barking orders for everyone to stay close and prepare to defend themselves. 

And then, in the distance, I saw them – two glowing eyes, burning gold like embers in the night, staring back at me from the edge of the treeline. They were followed by another, and then another, until a half dozen sets of eyes flashed from the shadows. My hands fumbled for my knife, my fingers tightly gripping the etched handle as I thrashed my legs entangled with my bag, trying to rise to my feet.

The creatures were here, just as the rumors had warned. Beasts of shadow and malice, their forms obscured by darkness, but their presence undeniable. I could hear their low growls, a sound that seemed to reverberate in my chest, despite the distance that stood between us. 

Firelight flared, as if in response to their approach, casting the beasts in brief glimpses of light. Fangs that gleamed like polished bone, claws that dug into the earth with ease. Only their heads resemble wolves, though the twisting antlers that sprouted from their head ensured they could not be mistaken for anything ordinary. Their bodies, big as a bear’s, looked like a feline’s, except with dark fur coating them. Tails swished behind them, barbs barely visible. They were paused, their noses twitching as they scented us, as if savoring the fear that permeated the air, as if they were debating the best way to shred through our caravan. 

The caravan master, despite his age, still drew his sword, the sound of steel piercing my ears. “Stay together!” he called, his voice wavering despite the bravado he tried to present. “We’ll fight together! Don’t let these hellhounds pick us off!” 

I stumbled back a step and turned, rifling through my satchel to grab my tarot cards and loop the pouch around my belt. Regardless of what happened next, I couldn’t part with these cards.

Stepping closer to the fire, one hand resting on the tarot card’s pouch, and the other clutching my small knife, I had never longed for a bow and arrow so badly. My fingers twitched instinctively as the stench of decay had reached the camp, snaking through the tents and curling around the fires.

At that moment, I knew that dawn was too far away, and whatever these creatures were, they would not let us see the light of morning without a fight.

The first beast passed the treeline, eyes glowing with ferocity, as its talons dug into the ground with every step it took. The initial steps were careful, deliberate, nose still twitching. A wave of cold realization washed over me – they were sniffing for faebane. My mouth dropped in horror, and before I could call out my discovery, it charged.

Someone cried out as the caravan’s guards brandished their weapons in trembling hands. But before the fiend could reach the edge of the camp, a great black mass seemingly materialized from the shadows, tackling the first creature to the ground.

More shouts sounded – in horror or surprise I couldn’t tell – as mothers began to scoop up their children, making desperate bids to reach the gates of Briar Hollow. Others scrambled for weapons, grabbing loose swords and spears to join in the fray.

I stood frozen, staring at the scene unfolding before me. Howls sounded from the treeline again, accompanied by vicious snarls and snapping teeth. The two hellhounds before us were locked in a merciless combat, biting at the other’s throat and trying to pin them to the ground. 

The two beasts clashed with a force that shook the earth, growls filling the air like thunder. My heart hammered in my chest as I watched, transfixed, uselessly clutching my knife. The black-furred fiend, larger and faster than the other, sank its teeth into the neck of its opponent. The first beast thrashed violently in the other’s jaws, trying to break free, to no avail. Black-fur held firm, claws reaching up to rip into the other’s flesh, but what shook me to my core was not the gore that coated the ground, but the violence and intelligence in its eyes. Intense violet eyes drifted from its opponents for the briefest moment, instead finding my own with terrifying intention. 

More figures emerged from the darkness – an entirely new pack it seemed, each creature moving with the deadly grace of predators honed by countless battles. The one leading the pack seemed bigger than the rest, accompanied by a smaller, sleeker fiend to its right.  Similar to the first group, their eyes held a golden hue, but seemed darker, tinged with brown and green, but there was something else different about them. Their movements were more controlled, their attacks more coordinated, as they too laid siege to the beasts that had targeted the caravan.

A scream jolted me from my thoughts, and I whirled around to see another rogue beast lunging at one of the caravan guards. I brought my hand back, but before I could throw my knife in desperation, one of the intelligent beasts intercepted it, throwing it to the ground with a single powerful strike. The guard stumbled back, eyes wide with shock, barely able to comprehend that he was still alive.

“They’re fighting each other”, someone whispered in disbelief, somewhere near me. I didn’t dare tear my eyes away from the battle long enough to see who had spoken, but the bewilderment in their voice mirrored my own thoughts. These beasts – the new ones – they were saving us. 

Another rogue creature broken from the treeline, barreling towards the center of the camp where the firelight was brightest. I gripped my knife tighter, knowing it would likely be useless, but unwilling to let it go. The beast’s glowing eyes locked onto me, and for a terrifying moment, I realized it had begun to change course to come after me. I braced myself, preparing to dive out of the way at the last minute, hoping I could at least nick it with my knife.

Before I could begin to twist my body out of the way, a dark blur appeared behind the charging creature, slamming into it with such force that both of them rolled across the ground, kicking up dirt and embers as they fought. Violet eyes flashed again, its claws gouged into its opponents, as it tried to free itself from underneath its grasp. This time its maw was stained with something darker than blood but carried the same metallic scent. The rogue hellhound had worked itself into a frenzy, snapping at Violet Eyes underneath it with an unnatural intensity. 

Violet Eyes reared its head back, looking for a better angle to escape, but let out a loud yelp as its shoulder was torn into, causing a spray of black blood. My chest tightened, and for a moment I considered running, leaving this violence behind me to instead beg for sanctuary at the city walls. But something deeper within overcame me, moving me before I knew what I was doing.

I launched myself at the back of the rogue creature, struggling to find a grip on its enormous body. The muscles beneath me twitched, but before it could register whatever madwoman had thought it was a good idea to climb on it, I sunk my knife into the base of its neck.

An awful, unnatural shriek pierced the air, and I threw my hands up over my ears in a desperate bid to save my hearing. My grip on its back was lost, and as it thrashed, I felt myself thrown to the earth, landing in the damp grass. 

The beast with the violet eyes roared, surging upwards to grab the rogue’s throat, twisting and flipping their positions. From my position on the ground I could barely make out the fight, struggling to sit up as my head swam. More snarls, and then a pitiful whine that slowly faded out, as the rogue’s body fell limply to the grass a few feet from me.

Over the fallen creature stood Violet Eyes, its chest heaving with deep breaths. Blood coated its body, fur matted, but its eyes burned with such an eerie intelligence that I could feel goosebumps breaking out on my arms. I couldn’t look away as its eyes met mine – there was something almost human in them – before it turned away, sprinting back into the brawl.

The other beasts continued to drive the rogues back, forcing them away from the camp and into the dark cover of the trees. The sounds of battle grew more distant, the snarls and roars fading as the beasts disappeared into the forest, leaving behind only the scattered remains of the fight.

For a long moment, silence settled over the camp, interrupted by the labored breathing of those who had survived. 

“To the gates!” the caravan master shouted, his voice trembling but authoritative. “Get everyone inside the walls!”

The command snapped me back to reality. I slowly rose to my feet, trying to steady my breathing, as I walked over to the rogue’s corpse. Disgusting, I thought, as I picked through the remains to find my knife. With what little light the dying embers provided, I could see it was coated in the same black blood as I saw before. I gingerly placed it in my satchel, promising myself I would wash it the next opportunity I had, before gathering up the rest of my things.

Most of the caravan members had already scrambled their way up to the gates, as the portcullis slowly rose with a loud creaking. Guards peered down at us, a mixture of shock and horror on their faces. Some had taken up bows, pointing at the distant treeline, but what good was it now? The surge of bodies, desperate for the safety of the town’s fortified walls, pushed past me, but I let myself linger in the back of the rushing crowd. I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder, surveying the treeline, waiting to see a pair of glowing violet eyes looking back at me.

As I crossed the threshold into Briar Hollow, I cast one last look over my shoulder at the dark woods beyond. The purple eyes haunted my thoughts, lingering in the corners of my mind like a half-remembered dream. 

The gates slammed shut behind us, the sound reverberating through the night. Inside the walls, medics hurried to help the wounded, ushering them off to some infirmary. I let the crowd guide me as the remaining members shuffled into an inn, with talks of warm meals and hot fires being the only promise I needed to get moving. 

My hands still shook as I clutched the pouch at my side. The cards felt heavy now, like they knew something I didn’t. Yet as I let myself be sat at a rickety wooden table, listening to the rumblings of the crowd, I couldn’t shake the feeling that, whatever came next, those purple eyes would be watching.

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

A thousand lives

Sonder stood facing the monster, gripping his musket with white hands. The stench of gunpowder hung in the air, whipped about by bloodshed and fear.

The motley crew of the men of Periashire lay scattered about him, blood leaching out of their still-warm corpses. His friends, comrades, brothers-in-arms, reduced to empty sacks of flesh.

And still the monster stood, towering over him, threatening to destroy all he held dear. His wife and daughter, along with the rest of the village, were huddled in the church, praying to any god that would hear them. But he knew that no god would intervene. There was only him left, standing against it.

It had claws of steel, curving, wicked things that tore people like paper. Its teeth were long as swords and twice as sharp, and its tail was a whip of agony. Blood splattered its thick hide, and bullets riddled its flesh, yet it did not fall.

Sonder braced himself, breathing in the chilly spring air. It smelled of pollen and nectar, young love and hope, the laughter of children as they tasted life for the first time. He had lived in Periashire, been born in it, had fallen in love within its thin walls. And now he would die defending it.

The beast reared up, intent on crushing him. He screamed, a noise of terror and rage that reverberated about his chest, ringing deep within his soul. It was a battle cry, a sound drowned out by the blood roaring in his ears and the rattle of the musket as it emptied its barrel into the monster's exposed chest.

Sonder had just enough time to curse before it descended upon him in a rush of claws and teeth. That was the end of Sonder Woods, father and woodcutter, feeder of the ducks and lover of long walks in the forest. 

He felt his chest cave under the weight of massive paws, stared into those glowing eyes, and felt a moment expand into an infinity. He saw his wife, brushing her golden hair by the lake, tossing crumbs into the flaming, sunset-lit waters. He saw his daughter, screaming herself bloody as she came into the world. He saw his life play out before his eyes.

And it was all gone in an instant, he realised. Every surge of passion, every fit of pique, was nothing but a grain of sand, quickly washed away by the waters. His world was so small, a mere thousand people to the millions that lived in his country, and the billions that lay beyond. What wonders stood past his sloping hills, his sparse groves with their acorns and oaks? What had he missed, staying cloistered within his tiny town? Why had he not gone out to the world beyond, taken the train and seen the castles and the towers, the deserts and the swamps? 

And he could see himself, a young man wandering the streets of some distant city. He had come with nothing and taken work as a serving boy, wandered city to city in search of adventure. He had fallen in love with a seamstress, and married her young. She was nothing like his wife, who had been bright and quick to laugh. No, the seamstress was a gloomy person, who loved the melancholy violin and clad herself like a dark goddess. And he had loved her all the same, and loved their sons and their tiny apartment in the outskirts of the city, loved the roast fowl she made and the songs she sang. Yet he wondered, what had he missed, uneducated and illiterate? What would it have been like, had he not squandered his youth working a dead end job? What if he had put his head first and his heart second?

So Sonder became a scholar, bent over a stack of books, eyes narrowed in concentration as he illuminated a manuscript. He had no time for romance, for his love lay in the cursive of old books, in the careful anatomical drawings of ducks and his endless indagation into their mating habits. And here he was, the old and beloved headmaster of the university, revered by all. And there was peace in that, but he wished he had not been bound to academia. What if he had taken a middle path, not consigned himself to a fate of nights in the library? What if he had explored beyond the hallowed halls of his institute and dared to be more?

Then he was a knight, a heralded warrior in service to the King. He was fawned upon by the populace, beloved for his kindness. He had a small estate, with a beautiful lake. He fought monsters and mounted their heads upon his walls, to regale his visitors when they entered. He grew old with his wife and though they had no children, they coddled the lake's ducks. But why had he not done more? He was living in a tiny estate, as a minor noble. He was celebrated, sure, and adored by the peasants, but he was merely a pawn in the eyes of the king, and he resented that.

Hence he had taken up arms against the King, spinning a tale of injustice, of gold for the poor and bread on everyone's tables. He had led a revolution, overthrowing the order of the country. There was blood, and turmoil, and for a moment he had feared defeat, but the revolution prevailed. The people had placed him on the throne, and he had given freely to them, distributing land as evenly as he could. It was a hard and thankless job, for the bread was never enough, and other countries reared their ugly heads upon smelling weakness. He had been beheaded by an angry mob for a sin so small as feeding a duck a piece of bread that they claimed belonged to the people. Though he would go down in history as King Sonder the Kind, the country that he sacrificed everything for had reviled him. It embittered his heart, and he found himself wishing that he had not been so openhearted. 

Thus, the compassionate king became a conqueror, a bloody handed tyrant who had turned upon those who put him on the throne and wrought a crown of the blood of his enemies. His frustrations were artillery, his resentment a scythe, and he brought his rage down upon all within his reach. His empire sprawled across the oceans, and the world bowed before him. Every meal was the finest smoked meat, every drink the sweetest nectar. But yet: Why was he not satisfied? Why did he still yearn for more? 

No, he thought, he did not want more. He scorned the stifling embrace of academia, the heavy mantle of duty, the sour taste of war. He decided that he would never leave his village in the first place, never wander the world, never reach for more than he had been given. Ignorance was bliss, Sonder the Conqueror decided, and his tiny, long-forgotten hometown was blissfully ignorant. 

And so he shed his wanderings, his books and his sword, his crown and his castle, and became a woodsman. He cleaved trees instead of men, fed ducks instead of peasants. He brought branches home to whittle toys for his children. He took long walks along the waterside with his wife, watching the ducks bob up and down peacefully. He leaned closer to her and smelled the myrtle on her hair, felt the flour on her hands against the rough axe-calluses of his. And when a monster appeared, he picked up his musket without a second thought and went to defend the tiny world he loved so dearly.

Sonder the woodsman watched his life play out in front of him. Every decision he could have made, every path he could have took, every life he could have lived flashed before him, one by one. They offered riches, creature comforts, lovers other than the one he had. But this life, at the end of it all, was the one he had chosen. It was small and dull and worthless in the grand scheme of things, but he had never wanted greatness. No, he had wanted peace and contentment above all. 

And he knew the King would send troops to stop the monster, and he knew his wife and he had saved enough for their children, and he knew the church had thick enough walls to stop the monster, now that he had distracted it. 

And so Sonder went peacefully into the night.

[huskynotwolf]

Looking for answers — Grian

From my Fanfic Watchers and Hunters on Quotev

I thought of sneaking into the public library of the grand city of the Watchers. Maybe not. I needed to know what happened to the relationship between Watchers and Hunters. Why are they in conflict? What caused it? Who created this? I need answers.

It won’t be easy, though. I’m exiled, meaning I can’t get into the city. But first, I need tools. I glided through the skies, searching for a cave for me to snatch an iron sword or axe. I found an underground ravine not long later. I went in, bracing myself for creepers and skeletons. I know that I’m in Watcher territory, not mine, because I could see the grassland savanna that marks the border. I had passed it without turning back. Who cares. Okay, maybe I do.

I tried thinking of a solution to sneak in. Cloak? No, because if someone brushes me, I’m dead. Another jacket that covers the wings? No way I can afford that. My gaze drifted towards a running stream in the ravine. Squid ink? It came to my mind. I need to find a squid to get ink, then dye my wings black. Then I could go in as a crow. 

Possibly.

I found an iron vein not long later, then set off to find a squid. On the way, I found a village so I crafted my weapons. The villages panicked when they saw me, but as I kept a spare Emerald with me, I found a house with an anvil and a crafting table, then traded with the villager for an efficiency enchanting book then borrowed the crafting table. I used the anvil, thanked the villager then left, leaving two pieces of bread behind.

I soared over the hills, looking for a lake. I found a forest ravine that overlapped a jungle one, so the trees were mangled in a tight scrap. I swooped down, relived to see a squid swimming around. I bought myself the courage to kill it in order to get the ink sac. Then, holding the sac, I poured it over my rainbow wings. As soon as the feathers touched the pitch black liquid, they shed all their colour and turned black like crow feathers.

Perfect, I thought to myself. I gave my wings a light shake, making sure the black stuck to my feathers. As soon as water touches it, the black will turn back to rainbow, but otherwise, it’ll be fine. I can’t touch water. 

I took off, heading east, looking for the city. As luck would have it, I found a large city that was definitely not the capital, but I figured it’ll do, being so close to the main city and of course, the Imperial Palace. I shruddered, landing near the city gates. “Name?” The guard that stood next to the gates asked. “Taiga,” I replied. I figured that’ll be a good name for a crow. The guard nodded then gestured me. “Sure. Go in.” He grumbled.

I awkwardly stalked in, ruffling my newly-dyed black feathers. Stalls clustered the streets of the city; the residents crowded around shops, arguing on who has the best item. I ignored them and forged my way through. “Excuse me, do you know where the public library is?” I asked someone walking by. “Left, then two streets down.” They replied. I ran down the corner, swerving to avoid citizens. I finally found the giant building marked with letters in red bricks: ‘Library’. I went in, pushing open the doors. Then, going  straight to the history section, I found a rather large book about Hunters, or ‘Humans’, the book wrote, then settled down somewhere no one can disturb me, then began to read.

Unbeknownst, I was stalked. 

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[refersmss]

Embark on an Epic Journey: The 10 Best Road Trip Destinations in India

There's something undeniably exhilarating about hitting the open road, with the wind in your hair and the promise of adventure beckoning on the horizon. In a country as diverse and captivating as India, road trips offer a unique opportunity to explore its rich tapestry of landscapes, cultures, and hidden gems. Whether you're a seasoned traveler or a newbie to the road, we've curated a list of the 10 best road trip destinations in India to ignite your wanderlust and inspire your next great adventure.

1. Leh-Ladakh, Jammu and Kashmir: Brace yourself for an awe-inspiring journey through the rugged terrain of Leh-Ladakh. From the snow-capped peaks of the Himalayas to the turquoise lakes and barren valleys, every twist and turn of the road unveils a breathtaking vista that will leave you spellbound.

2. Manali to Spiti Valley, Himachal Pradesh: Traverse the dramatic landscapes of Himachal Pradesh as you journey from the bustling town of Manali to the remote Spiti Valley. Wind your way through towering mountains, ancient monasteries, and quaint villages, soaking in the raw beauty of the Himalayas along the way.

3. Mumbai to Goa, Maharashtra: Experience the quintessential Indian beach getaway as you cruise along the scenic coastal route from Mumbai to Goa. With palm-fringed beaches, lush greenery, and charming seaside towns dotting the coastline, this road trip promises sun, sand, and endless adventure.

4. Jaipur to Jaisalmer, Rajasthan: Immerse yourself in the rich heritage and culture of Rajasthan as you journey from the pink city of Jaipur to the golden sands of Jaisalmer. Explore majestic forts, vibrant bazaars, and opulent palaces, and witness the desert landscape transform before your eyes.

5. Bangalore to Coorg, Karnataka: Escape the hustle and bustle of city life as you meander through the picturesque landscapes of Karnataka from Bangalore to Coorg. With its verdant coffee plantations, misty hills, and cascading waterfalls, Coorg is a haven for nature lovers and adventure seekers alike.

6. Kolkata to Darjeeling, West Bengal: Embark on a journey back in time as you traverse the scenic route from Kolkata to Darjeeling. Wind your way through lush tea gardens, misty mountains, and charming hillside villages, and savor the serene beauty of the Himalayas at every turn.

7. Delhi to Rishikesh, Uttarakhand: Seek solace in the tranquil surroundings of Rishikesh as you escape the chaos of Delhi on a road trip to the foothills of the Himalayas. Follow the meandering path of the Ganges River, explore ancient temples and ashrams, and indulge in adrenaline-pumping adventure sports along the way.

8. Chennai to Pondicherry, Tamil Nadu: Discover the cultural fusion of French and Indian influences on a road trip from Chennai to Pondicherry. Marvel at the colonial architecture, pristine beaches, and vibrant street markets, and immerse yourself in the laid-back charm of this coastal paradise.

9. Guwahati to Tawang, Assam: Embark on an off-the-beaten-path adventure through the remote landscapes of Assam as you journey from Guwahati to Tawang. Traverse winding mountain roads, dense forests, and serene lakes, and experience the rich biodiversity and cultural diversity of Northeast India.

10. Ahmedabad to Udaipur, Gujarat: Delve into the regal grandeur and architectural splendor of Gujarat on a road trip from Ahmedabad to Udaipur. Explore ancient forts, opulent palaces, and vibrant markets, and soak in the vibrant colors and flavors of this vibrant state.

With endless opportunities for exploration and discovery, these 10 best road trip destinations in India are sure to ignite your sense of adventure and leave you with memories to last a lifetime. So pack your bags, fuel up your vehicle, and set out on the ultimate journey of a lifetime across the diverse landscapes and cultures of incredible India! If you want to more articles related to these type of information so visit here Refersms

[crazyriders]

Delhi Srinagar Leh Ladakh Manali Delhi Road Tour

Embark on an epic adventure through some of India's most breathtaking landscapes with the Best Delhi-Srinagar-Leh-Ladakh-Manali-Delhi Road Tour. This journey promises an unforgettable experience, weaving through diverse terrains, cultures, and natural wonders.

Day 1: Delhi to Srinagar Your adventure begins in the vibrant capital city of Delhi. Board your vehicle and hit the road towards the enchanting city of Srinagar, nestled in the picturesque Kashmir Valley. Along the way, soak in the changing scenery, from the bustling streets of Delhi to the serene countryside of Jammu and Kashmir. Arrive in Srinagar by evening and unwind amidst the serene Dal Lake, surrounded by majestic mountains.

Day 2: Srinagar to Leh Wake up to the tranquil beauty of Srinagar before continuing your journey towards Leh, the heart of Ladakh. Brace yourself for an exhilarating drive as you traverse the iconic Zoji La Pass, offering panoramic views of the Himalayas. Arrive in Leh and acclimatize to the high altitude while exploring the vibrant local markets and ancient monasteries.

Day 3-4: Leh Exploration Spend the next couple of days exploring the rich cultural heritage and natural wonders of Leh. Visit the historic Leh Palace, perched atop a hill overlooking the city, and marvel at the intricate architecture of the Thiksey and Hemis Monasteries. Don't miss the chance to embark on an adventurous trek to the stunning Pangong Lake, famous for its ever-changing hues.

Day 5: Leh to Nubra Valley Embark on a thrilling drive through the world's highest motorable pass, Khardung La, as you make your way to the enchanting Nubra Valley. Traverse through rugged terrain, crossing dramatic mountain passes adorned with prayer flags. Reach Nubra Valley and unwind amidst the surreal landscapes, dotted with lush greenery and sand dunes.

Day 6: Nubra Valley to Pangong Tso Continue your journey towards the mesmerizing Pangong Tso, one of the largest and most beautiful high-altitude lakes in the region. Marvel at the surreal shades of blue reflecting off the pristine waters, set against the backdrop of towering snow-capped peaks. Spend the night camping by the lakeside under a blanket of stars, an experience that will stay etched in your memory forever.

Day 7: Pangong Tso to Manali Bid farewell to the serene beauty of Pangong Tso as you embark on the next leg of your adventure towards the charming town of Manali. Traverse through rugged mountain roads, passing through quaint villages and verdant valleys. Arrive in Manali by evening and treat yourself to some local delicacies while soaking in the cozy atmosphere of this Himalayan town.

Day 8: Manali Exploration Spend your day exploring the picturesque town of Manali, nestled amidst towering peaks and lush forests. Visit the ancient Hadimba Temple, dedicated to the goddess Hadimba Devi, and stroll through the vibrant streets lined with colorful shops and cafes. For the adventurous souls, indulge in activities like paragliding, river rafting, or trekking amidst the breathtaking landscapes.

Day 9: Manali to Delhi As your unforgettable journey comes to an end, embark on the final leg of your road trip back to Delhi. Reflect on the memories made and the experiences shared as you traverse through the scenic highways and verdant countryside. Arrive in Delhi by evening, bidding adieu to your fellow travelers with a heart full of cherished moments and a soul rejuvenated by the beauty of the Himalayas.

[jetsetgypsy]

Rupin Pass Trek: A Bold Himalayan Escape 

Looking for a trek that kicks up the adventure a notch? Rupin Pass Trek, nestled in Himachal Pradesh, is not your average walk in the hills. With altitudes reaching around 15,350 feet, this trek is a rollercoaster of challenges and jaw-dropping scenery, blending the best of trekking in Himachal with the raw beauty of Indian landscapes. 

The Gritty Details: 

Starting from Dhaula village, this 7 to 8-day trek pulls no punches. It throws you into dense forests, charming meadows, and villages like Sewa and Jhaka. Brace yourself for a mix of heart-pounding climbs and leisurely strolls that will redefine your idea of treks in India. 

The Summit Thrill: 

As you approach the summit, the landscape transforms into a surreal panorama of snow-capped peaks and vast expanses. The feeling of accomplishment at reaching the top is unparalleled, and the panoramic views of the surrounding mountains make every step worth the effort. Rupin Pass stands as a testament to your determination and offers a sense of triumph that words can hardly capture. 

Standout Features: 

Rupin Waterfall Wonders: Picture this – a massive waterfall, Rupin's pride, breaking the monotony of your climb. It's not just a water feature; it's a recharge point for both your energy and your Instagram feed. 

Local Flavor: This trek isn't just about conquering peaks; it's about connecting with the people. Villages en route provide a cultural immersion, a chance to share stories around a local bonfire. 

Why Choose Rupin? 

In the realm of treks in India, Rupin Pass stands tall. The changing landscapes, local interactions, and a trail that keeps you guessing make it a go-to for both hardcore trekkers and novices looking to level up. 

Gear Up Right: 

Throw in your durable trekking boots, warm layers, a trusty backpack, and a camera – essentials for capturing the stunning vistas. Proper acclimatization and constant hydration are your partners in crime for a trek that's both safe and spectacular. 

The Adventurous Path Continues: 

As you delve deeper into the Rupin Pass Trek, the trail unveils even more exhilarating experiences. Moving through the dense forests, you'll encounter diverse flora and fauna, adding an element of intrigue to your journey. The rich biodiversity of the region is a reminder of the untamed beauty that the Himalayas proudly flaunt. 

Photography Paradise: 

For the avid shutterbug, Rupin Pass is a photography paradise. Every twist and turn in the trail unfolds a new frame-worthy scene – from mist-covered valleys to pristine alpine lakes. Capture the essence of your journey and share the stunning visuals with friends and family, letting the pictures tell the tale of your bold Himalayan escape. 

A Bond with Fellow Trekkers: 

The camaraderie forged during the Rupin Pass Trek is as remarkable as the landscapes you traverse. Whether you're navigating a challenging ascent or sharing a laugh around the campfire, the bond with fellow trekkers becomes an integral part of the adventure. It's not just about conquering the terrain but about the shared memories that make the journey unforgettable. 

Planning Your Rupin Pass Adventure: 

Before you embark on this bold Himalayan escape, make sure to plan your itinerary wisely. Check weather conditions, coordinate with experienced trek organizers, and pack essentials for both safety and comfort. Being well-prepared enhances the thrill of the adventure and ensures you make the most of your time on the trail. 

Conclusion: 

Rupin Pass Trek isn't just a trek; it's a bold statement in the world of Himalayan adventures. Whether you're seeking a challenge or just itching to break away from the routine, Rupin Pass will redefine your trekking experience. So, pack your bags, lace up those boots, and let Rupin Pass be your ticket to a Himalayan escapade like no other. 

[sikikimdarjeelingtourism]

Experience the Enchanting Beauty of Darjeeling with Affordable Tour Packages Under 5000

Introduction

Welcome to Darjeeling, a mesmerizing hill station nestled in the lap of the Himalayas. If you are looking for an unforgettable adventure that won't break the bank, Darjeeling should be at the top of your travel list. With its breathtaking landscapes, tea gardens, and enchanting atmosphere, this destination promises an extraordinary experience for every traveler. Best of all, you can now explore this captivating town with darjeeling tour packages under 5000!

Unveiling the Mysteries of Darjeeling

The Majestic Kanchenjunga: Witness the Crown Jewel of the Himalayas

Darjeeling presents a golden opportunity to gaze upon the awe-inspiring Kanchenjunga, the world's third-highest mountain. As you embark on a memorable journey through this picturesque town, ensure you visit Tiger Hill at the crack of dawn. Marvel as the first rays of the sun illuminate the snow-covered peaks, creating a breathtaking spectacle that will leave you in absolute awe.

The Joy of Toy Train: A Heritage Ride through the Mountains

No trip to Darjeeling would be complete without a ride on the iconic Darjeeling Himalayan Railway, also known as the Toy Train. Experience the sheer joy of chugging along the narrow-gauge tracks, witnessing the surreal beauty of the Himalayas from the comfort of your carriage. This UNESCO World Heritage Site offers a unique opportunity to soak in the stunning vistas of lush valleys, dense forests, and charming villages, truly a whimsical adventure worth cherishing.

Tea Gardens: A Taste of Darjeeling's Finest Delight

Indulge in the aromatic world of Darjeeling tea by exploring the sprawling tea gardens that adorn the hillsides. Immerse yourself in the art of tea plucking and processing, learning about the intricate techniques that create these world-renowned tea leaves. Take a leisurely stroll amidst the verdant tea bushes, breathing in the fragrant air and capturing the essence of Darjeeling's tea heritage, a treat for all the senses.

Exhilarating Outdoor Activities

Trekking into the Wilderness: Conquer the Rugged Terrains

For the adventurous souls seeking an adrenaline rush, Darjeeling offers a plethora of thrilling trekking trails. Lace up your boots and embark on a journey to conquer the rugged terrains of Sandakphu or Singalila, basking in the glory of their panoramic views. Traverse through rhododendron forests, picturesque valleys, and charming mountain villages, as you forge unforgettable memories and push your limits amidst nature's grandeur.

River Rafting: Ride the Rapids of Teesta and Rangeet

Dive into an exhilarating river rafting expedition on the mighty Teesta and Rangeet rivers. Brace yourself as you navigate through the rushing white waters, experiencing the thrill of conquering nature's power. The scenic beauty surrounding these challenging rapids enhances the adventure, providing an adrenaline-pumping experience you'll never forget.

Ideal Itinerary for a Budget-Friendly Darjeeling Tour

To make the most of your trip while staying within budget, consider following this ideal itinerary:

Day 1: Arrival in Darjeeling and rest at the hotel

Day 2: Witness the mesmerizing sunrise at Tiger Hill and explore the Ghoom Monastery. Enjoy a scenic ride on the Toy Train.

Day 3: Visit the iconic tea gardens and immerse yourself in the world of Darjeeling tea. Spend a serene afternoon at the Peace Pagoda.

Day 4: Embark on a thrilling trek to Sandakphu, relishing the magnificent Himalayan vistas.

Day 5: Indulge in the adrenaline rush of river rafting on the Teesta or Rangeet rivers.

Day 6: Departure from Darjeeling with unforgettable memories.

Conclusion

Darjeeling, with its enchanting beauty and affordable darjeeling tour package cost tour packages, offers an ideal destination for travelers seeking a remarkable experience without breaking the bank. From the majestic Kanchenjunga to the joy of the Toy Train, and the allure of the tea gardens, this hill station has something for everyone. So pack your bags, embrace the spirit of adventure, and get ready to immerse yourself in the captivating charm of Darjeeling. Your unforgettable journey awaits!

[vedikant]

7 Quirky Ways to Experience India’s Most-Wanted Hill Station Manali

Welcome to the captivating realm of Manali, India's most-wanted hill station, nestled amidst the majestic mountains of Himachal Pradesh. With its awe-inspiring natural beauty, adrenaline-pumping adventures, and serene landscapes, Manali offers an unparalleled experience for travelers from all walks of life. In this blog, we will delve into seven quirky ways to make the most of your visit to this enchanting destination. 

Elevate your journey with Vedikant, one of India's leading hospitality companies, renowned for its exceptional expertise in tourism and luxury hotels, ensuring you have an unforgettable and seamless experience throughout your stay.

Camping Amidst Solang Valley's Beauty:

For a truly enchanting experience, set up camp amidst the picturesque Solang Valley. Surrounded by snow-clad mountains and lush greenery, camping here will allow you to immerse yourself in nature's embrace. Spend your evenings stargazing around a bonfire, savoring local delicacies, and sharing stories with fellow travelers. Vedikant offers excellent camping facilities with comfortable tents and essential amenities, ensuring an unforgettable experience.

River Rafting in the Beas River:

Thrill-seekers should not miss the opportunity to go river rafting in the gushing waters of the Beas River. Brace yourself for an adrenaline-pumping adventure as you navigate through the river's rapids and witness the stunning landscapes along the way. Vedikant can help arrange river rafting expeditions with experienced guides to ensure your safety and enjoyment throughout the activity.

Paragliding over Rohtang Pass:

Soar high above the mesmerizing Rohtang Pass with a thrilling paragliding session. Feel the rush of the wind as you glide through the clear blue skies, taking in panoramic views of the surrounding mountains and valleys. With Vedikant's expertise, you can have a safe and enjoyable paragliding experience, making it an unforgettable memory of your trip.

Discover Hidden Gems on a Mountain Biking Tour:

Explore the lesser-known trails of Manali on a mountain biking adventure. Pedal your way through quaint villages, apple orchards, and dense forests as you uncover the region's hidden gems. Whether you're an experienced biker or a novice, Vedikant can arrange guided mountain biking tours suited to your skill level, ensuring a fun-filled and exhilarating day.

Surreal Hot Water Springs at Vashisht:

Unwind and rejuvenate your senses at the surreal hot water springs in Vashisht village. These natural springs are believed to have medicinal properties and are a popular spot for travelers seeking relaxation. Take a dip in the warm waters to soothe your tired muscles after a day of exploration. Vedikant can provide comfortable accommodation options near Vashisht to make it convenient for you to indulge in this therapeutic experience.

Indulge in Local Cuisine and Shopping:

To truly experience the essence of Manali, savor the local delicacies that reflect the region's culture and traditions. Visit bustling markets and quaint cafes to try dishes like siddu, momos, and thukpa. Additionally, don't miss the chance to shop for unique handicrafts, woolens, and souvenirs to take home cherished memories of your trip. Vedikant's hospitality experts can guide you to the best places for authentic cuisine and shopping experiences.

Trek to the Mystical Malana Village:

Embark on a mystical trek to the ancient village of Malana, known for its distinct culture and secluded lifestyle. The trek will take you through dense forests and scenic landscapes, offering glimpses of the majestic Himalayas. As you reach the village, you'll be fascinated by the locals' unique customs and practices. With Vedikant's assistance, you can embark on a well-organized and safe trek to this extraordinary destination.

Conclusion:Manali's charm lies in its ability to cater to diverse interests, making it a sought-after destination for every traveler. From thrilling adventure sports to serene natural wonders, this hill station has it all. By partnering with Vedikant, you can elevate your experience and indulge in the best that Manali has to offer, ensuring a memorable and unforgettable journey. So pack your bags and get ready to explore the quirky side of India's most-wanted hill station - Manali!

[travelguide10]

Kotte Abbey Falls: The Hidden Gem Close To Mandalpatti Peak

Introducing a hidden gem that awaits your discovery near the majestic Mandalpatti Peak: Kotte Abbey Falls. Have you ever wondered about the secrets hidden in the depths of untouched nature? Can you envision yourself journeying through lush forests and rugged terrains to find a hidden paradise? Picture yourself standing amidst mist-covered hills and verdant valleys, capturing breathtaking views at Mandalpatti Peak. But that’s not all — imagine stumbling upon the serene beauty of Kotte Abbey Falls, a secluded oasis nestled within the embrace of lush greenery. Get ready to embark on an enchanting adventure as we unveil the captivating allure of Mandalpatti Peak and the hidden marvels of Kotte Abbey Falls.

Unlock the Secrets of Serenity: Mandalpatti Peak and Kotte Abbey Falls, A Harmonious Escape!

Before we uncover the majestic powers of Kotte Abbey Falls, let’s take a moment to delve into the wonders of another exquisite beauty, the renowned Mandalpatti Peak. Are you ready to embark on a virtual journey from Madikeri to Mandalpatti?

Here’s all you need to know:

Breathtaking Views: Mandalpatti Peak offers panoramic vistas of mist-covered hills and lush greenery, providing a stunning backdrop for nature enthusiasts and photographers alike.

Thrilling Jeep Safari: Experience an exhilarating jeep safari to reach Mandalpatti Peak, traversing rugged terrains and enjoying the adventure along the way.

Timing: The Mandalpatti timings are generally 5:30 AM to 7:30 PM. It is advisable to plan your visit during the early morning or late afternoon to witness the mesmerizing sunrise or sunset views.

Trekking Options: For those seeking an active adventure, trekking trails are available to reach Mandalpatti Peak, allowing you to immerse yourself in the natural beauty of the region at your own pace.

Mandalpatti to Madikeri: Extend your journey from Mandalpatti to Madikeri, driving through picturesque tea plantations, dense forests, and charming villages. Explore cultural landmarks such as Raja’s Seat, Madikeri Fort, and Omkareshwara Temple, and indulge in Coorg’s famous coffee and local cuisine.

Ready for an adrenaline rush near Mandalpatti Peak? Brace yourself for a breathtaking discovery, a serene location that will leave you wishing you had found it sooner! Can you feel the excitement building up? This hidden gem has it all — adventure, tranquillity, and more. Get ready to immerse yourself in its captivating charm as you explore its wonders.

Let’s dive into the easiest and most eye-catching aspects of this hidden gem:

Serene Oasis: Are you ready to explore Kotte Abbey Falls, the hidden gem near Mandalpatti Peak? Can you imagine immersing yourself in the tranquil atmosphere, surrounded by the soothing sounds of cascading water and lush greenery?

Untouched Wilderness: Have you ever yearned to discover the untouched wilderness? Picture yourself amidst the raw and unspoiled beauty that surrounds Kotte Abbey Falls. Can you feel the excitement of exploring nature’s splendour in its purest form?

Perfect Combination: How about combining adventure and relaxation? Envision the exhilaration of exploring the area near Mandalpatti Falls. Can you imagine the perfect balance between thrilling jeep safaris or treks and unwinding amidst the tranquillity of the falls?

Escape the Crowds: Are you seeking an intimate experience away from the crowds? With Kotte Abbey Falls, you can escape the bustling tourist spots and find solitude. Can you picture yourself enjoying the seclusion and appreciating the beauty of this hidden gem?

Unforgettable Memories: Are you ready to create lasting memories? Let the stunning landscapes, serene ambience, and the joy of discovery at Kotte Abbey Falls leave an indelible mark on your heart. Can you envision the unforgettable moments and the stories you’ll share for years to come?

Conclusion:

The journey to Mandalpatti Peak and the discovery of Kotte Abbey Falls offer an extraordinary experience. These hidden gems near each other create a harmonious blend of adventure and tranquillity. So, whether you seek panoramic vistas, untouched nature, or moments of peaceful reflection, Mandalpatti Peak and Kotte Abbey Falls are waiting to be explored. Begin your own expedition and let the wonders of these hidden treasures leave an everlasting impression.

[universaladventures1]

From Gateway to Adventure: Embarking on an Epic Journey from Guwahati to Dzukou Valley

Introduction:

The northeastern region of India holds within its lush landscapes a treasure trove of natural wonders waiting to be explored. Among these, the journey from Guwahati, the gateway to the northeast, to the enchanting Dzukou Valley is a pilgrimage for adventure seekers and nature lovers alike. Brace yourself as we embark on a captivating expedition, traversing through awe-inspiring terrains and immersing ourselves in the unparalleled beauty of this hidden gem.

Guwahati - The Gateway

Our expedition commences in Guwahati, the bustling metropolis nestled on the banks of the mighty Brahmaputra River. The city's vibrant atmosphere serves as the perfect prelude to the adventure that awaits. As we bid adieu to the urban landscape, we venture into the mystical realm of the northeast, leaving behind the familiar and embracing the unknown.

Into the Wild

Leaving Guwahati behind, we delve into the heart of nature, where verdant forests and misty mountains greet us with open arms. The winding roads meander through quaint villages and dense jungles, each corner unravelling a new surprise. The air becomes crisper, infused with the scent of wildflowers and the distant call of birds, enticing us further into the wilderness.

The Enigmatic Kohima

Our journey takes a detour as we arrive in Kohima, the capital of Nagaland. The city exudes a unique blend of ancient traditions and modern influences. Exploring its vibrant markets and interacting with the warm-hearted locals, we begin to understand the rich cultural tapestry that forms the foundation of this mystical region. Kohima serves as a gateway to the Dzukou Valley trek, an ethereal paradise awaiting our arrival.

The Ascent

As we leave Kohima behind, we prepare ourselves for an arduous ascent towards the Dzukou Valley. The trail challenges our stamina and resolve, but every step is rewarded with breathtaking vistas that rejuvenate our spirits. Verdant valleys, cascading waterfalls, and rolling hills adorned with vibrant flowers accompany us on our path, inspiring a sense of awe and wonder.

Dzukou Valley - Nature's Canvas

Finally, we arrived at our destination—the fabled Dzukou Valley Nagaland. Words alone cannot capture the sheer majesty of this hidden gem. The valley unfolds like a painting, with a kaleidoscope of colors splashed across its canvas. Lush green meadows, interspersed with delicate blooms, stretch as far as the eye can see. The silence here is profound, broken only by the gentle rustling of leaves and the occasional chirping of birds.

Epilogue: A Soulful Return

Our epic journey to Dzukou Valley may be coming to an end, but its memories will forever linger in our hearts. We bid adieu to this mystical land, carrying with us a renewed appreciation for nature's grandeur and the indomitable spirit of the northeast. As we retrace our steps back to Guwahati, we are forever transformed by the magic of this adventure, etching it into the very core of our being.

Conclusion:

The journey from Guwahati to Dzukou Valley is not just a physical expedition; it is a spiritual odyssey that allows us to reconnect with nature and ourselves. It is a testament to the unyielding beauty that lies hidden in the lesser-explored corners of the world. So, dear wanderer, when you seek an escape from the ordinary, let this epic journey be your guide. Embark on this adventure and let the ethereal charm of the northeast weave its magic around you, forever changing the way you perceive the world.

If you want to read more information about Trekking and much more, just visit : https://www.universaladventures.in/products/trekking-in-dzukou-valley

[bouncingkadachi]

More Bug Buddies brain rot (Hunter, Rider, Battle Bug, Baby Bug, Bonus Scenario):

Hunter

My default dudes when I think of IG users are That Guy from the 4U opening and That Dude from the Wilds Weapons Showcase. I just think they're neat. I think for this group I'm trending more towards the weapons showcase guy.

It used to bother him that his kinsect didn't want to chill on his arm like a normal bug and instead wanted to chill on the head of the cooler, bigger bug.

He's made peace with it now he also likes chilling with the cooler, bigger bug and its Rider

His secondary weapon is the Dual Blades

Has a bomber palico who has only become more lethal since they befriended a large bug with a perfect willingness to fling bombs at great distances

The better cook of the two, even though Rider is better at finding new and delicious ingredients.

Rider

Primary weapons is the gunlance because wyvern fire was really cool in MHS2

Power clashes look cool and I feel like as a Rider he'd already have some experiences with that

Lilia submitted his name to join the Research Expedition on Lute's recommendation. They met at a tournament the year before where Battle Bug went up against Lute's Shrouded Nerscylla.

Prior to this expedition, the furthest he's ever traveled was to the Pondry Hills, where said tournament was hosted. His home village is located deep in an old-growth forest

Saw a Light Bowgun for the first time in his life at Base Camp and thought "hey that's cool!" Anyway, now he's learning to use one with mixed results.

Is far more experienced at finding safe camping spots than the Hunter.

Battle Bug

Moveset: Venom Sweep, Paralysis Slash, Sleep Needle.

She hits hard, she hits fast, she'll ruin your day, and then she'll rub salt in the wound

Good at using her webs to reposition monsters, and is good at crowd control

The spines on her back glow when she's bracing herself or when Fortify kicks in.

Has let the Hunter's kinsect take an extract from her before, but only in a pinch.

At night she turns into Guard Bug, including but not limited to thread traps that will alert her if anything large moves in the vicinity of the camp. Sleep easy! Leave camp protection to her!

Both she and Baby Bug provide field support to the team for anything that needs to be patched up on the fly. She likes making fishing nets because she can get snacks out of it

Baby Bug

Likes to ride on the Rider's shoulder or atop his head. Currently at a size and weight where that's still feasible. Great in the early mornings or late evenings to fend off the chill.

"One day you're going to be too big to sleep in the tent with us." Shock! Horror! NOOOOOOO. Deeply upset about the prospect of aging.

Her threads are still white, unlike the trademark red of her dangerous mother. They're not yet sure if she'll gain the pigments naturally as she grows older or if it the pigmentation is diet-based.

Her silk's are already very strong though! And Battle Bug has been teaching her how to aim better. She's already helped them out in some sticky situations, but while she has impressive reach for being a baby, she doesn't yet have the weight and technical skills to handle it optimally, so there's recoil, and she has to brace against her perch to stay in one place.

When BB and co are fighting, she's left on the Hunter's Seikret. Thus, she was inevitably trained to fetch and toss the Hunter's weapons when he wanted a weapon change. It's been good practice on her thread control though, so it's a win-win for everyone.

She'd do it for Rider too, but BB has the market cornered on that.

Bonus Scenario

Picture this: there's a promising site that they want to investigate. Rumor has it that it used to be a village, before the sands came alive and claimed it for their own. They're hoping for some artifacts or murals. Their supplies are prepped. Their destination is logged. They set out.

The Inclemency rolls in while they're on the road. They can hear weird scraping screeches echoing within the storm. It's cozy inside camp.

Interlude: "Hey do you think a Nerscylla's spines can also be a lightning rod?"

Shenanigans ensue. Turns out that yeah, BB can weather the lightning strikes and get her spines to light up. It makes her Paralysis Slash a hundred times worse.

In each lull of the storms, they move forward until they finally reach their site. In the process of securing it, they find several monster dens.

Interlude: "Hang on, I'm going to go steal some eggs." "Right now!? We're a little busy here!"

One of the eggs is interesting because it seems to be humming with some sort of energy. It's probably just a lingering effect of the Inclemency, and it'll probably hatch into a Ceratonoth, but it's interesting enough that Rider tucks it carefully away into the Egg Carton. Maybe their Scrivener or Erik will have some insights when they make it back to base camp

The rest of the eggs are turned into a delicious omelette

Time passes. Against everyone's best efforts, the saved egg hatches.

It's not a Ceratonoth

And that's how Rider ends up with a baby Rey Dau.

Thinking about Bug Buddies again because I cannot get over Lala Barina. Since it looks like the Research Expedition is running several different operations concurrently from the Wilds camp please imagine another unit created to study any historical Rider connections amongst villages and cultures in the Forbidden Lands, given the discovery of the Seikret (palamutes I can understand the Guild not asking questions about, but here's a new domesticated wyvern).

The unit:

Rider and Hunter pair -> heavy hitters

Smithy (2) -> doubled to deal with increased gear demands

Scrivener -> liaison between the Royal Paleontology Scriveners and the Hunters Guild.

Their Rider can't operate a Slinger to save their life, but that's alright because their Nerscylla more than makes up for it. They eventually hunt down a Lala Barina and in true Rider fashion, steal an egg. Now they have a fluffy baby spider. The other units don't quite know how to deal with them but at the same time they're also looking forward to the day when the fluffy bug is big enough that they can all nap in luxurious fluff on their off time. That must be an experience.

The Nerscylla's official name is Battle Bug but we call her BB for short. They also call the tiny Lala Barina "Baby" so if you call one, the other is also scuttling along behind. It's cute if you call for BB and get the baby as an extra. It's terrifying if you call for the baby and get BB looming out of the darkness at you.

[blackberrywars]

The Behemoth

Alrightttttt hi my dear my darling!! The Behemoth is just the new title for the version of Berry Content I edit on, and since you've already read it, I'll just paste the most angst-filled section, because it is, in my opinion, some of my best writing.

Lambert is having a the definition of a terrible time.

TW: abortion, domestic abuse, PTSD flashback.

Stone bricks press against her back, but all she feels are the cracked, mud-caked walls of the small house she’d spent her first nine years in. She can hear her father slamming the door on his way out of their home and how it always rattled the wooden frame, hears the creak of his ax being yanked from the stump he leaves it in, hears his boots crushing fallen leaves all the way to the forest. Watches the way Mama’s shoulders release. They wait another few minutes more, just in case he forgets something and circles back. Then, Ma falls to her knees. She reaches below the bed and pulls out a ceramic jug, breaking the seal —the alcohol inside burns Lambert’s nose from across the room. It’s her father’s, they both know it well. But Mama drinks and drinks and drinks until she nearly vomits onto the floor, forehead pressed against the packed dirt and hand clamped over her mouth, forcing back the liquor.

“Ma… Mama, why?”

She gets no reply, not until her mother levers herself up off the floor, bracing herself against the bed and heaves her body onto it. Mama laughs, the sound cracking apart as soon as it leaves her lips.

“I hope you never have to know.”

“Ma-”

“No. I won’t —not today. Go to the woods, fetch me some scotch broom and wormwood. We’ve enough pennyroyal here.”

Mama clasps her hands under her chest, almost clinging to herself for comfort, when it occurs to Lambert, suddenly, how small she is. How thin her arms are. How her eyes sink into her skull. How the bruises littered across her pale skin last a month when they should last a week. How her clothes hang off her body everywhere… except her stomach. A little bump, harder against her touch than a belly should be, when Lambert crawls onto the bed and tries to hug her mama. She’s swollen. Like the other omegas and women sometimes are, in the square, before the announcement goes out: a baby. Lambert presses in tighter, one hand on the swell. Mama sighs.

“You’re too smart for your own good, little lamb of mine. But maybe it’ll save you.”

“You don’t want it?”

“No. Not how I am and not with him.” 

And Lambert understands. Knows that another person in the house would bring only pain —less food, less space, another target for her father to beat. Knows it would hurt Mama, to have it. Knows she could die, and the baby could die, and then she’d be alone. Alone with her father, and nothing could be worse than that —she crushes the wish for a sibling right then and there. Scotch broom, wormwood, and pennyroyal. If it’s a medicine, she doesn’t know it, or else Ma’s never made it when she’s with her, or sold it at all. But if she needs it, Lambert will get it for her.

“Okay, Mama.”

Walking to the forest with a small pair of shears, she avoids the distant sound of her father’s ax, thudding off on the other side of the hill. The wormwood doesn’t take long to find. Ma keeps a few healthy patches of it close to the house for their pain, and to jar for when she can sell salves and tonics of it in the village. Every copper she makes goes into a small pouch, hidden in the dirt of their small garden. Hope, Ma calls it. All their hope in a roughspun sack that fits in her palm, stained with earth and stitched up where the worms dig through it in the springs. Lambert takes several extra sprigs, just in case. Market day’s around the corner, and Mama might want to make more for anyone who buys it. ‘Every copper counts,’ she says.

Scotch broom has pretty yellow flowers and it’s taller than she is, but it still takes her longer to find it. Every rock on the ground hurts her feet through the thin soles of her shoes, but she keeps walking until she sees a flash of yellow. After tripping over a root, she clips a few sprigs of that too. Should she take more? Ma hasn’t sold it at any other market, but if it fixes this…… someone else must need it too. Another Ma, with another baby she won’t have. With a few more snips, she makes a bundle of it, with some twine in her pocket, and walks back to where she knows the house is. 

Inside, Mama’s completely asleep on the bed. Arms limp, one hanging over the side. Head lolling back, flat on the bed without so much as a pillow to cushion her from it. Lambert shakes her to no response, and something awful rises in her throat, choking her. She never wakes her father when he’s gone like this. In a fit of desperation, she pinches down on her mother’s inner thigh, where she knows there’s a dark bruise in the shape of her father’s hand. The pain wakes her, makes her flinch, but she sinks back into the straw mattress.

“No, Mama, wake up. I have what you asked for, right here, but it’s almost noon.”

“Mmm, good jobb, girl.”

“Ma, he’ll be here in an hour.”

That makes her mother jolt again, but instead of settling back, she throws herself up to sit on the bed. But instead of getting up, she lurches forward, and Lambert catches her by the shoulders, helping her sit back again, pushing a few pillows under her back to prop her up. The smell on her breath makes her feel sick.

“What do I do?”

“A tea. Tea, boil the water and put the herbs in. He…… he hass a lunch, made it forr him before he left.”

Lambert struggles to lift their heavy copper pot full of water, but she manages to snag the handle onto the hook. After far too long, the water reaches a weak simmer over their fire, but she doesn’t know how to stoke it hotter, and she doesn’t dare touch the poker, lying still on the floor. It has to be enough. She dips a wooden mug into the water and leaves the fresh herbs to sit with the pennyroyal until it’s a bitter, ugly yellow, and hands it over. Mama sips once and grimaces, mouth twisting downward before she gulps the rest down fast. She lurches forward again, clamping a hand over her mouth again, and Lambert watches her throat move around the tea, swallowing it again. Mama clutches at her stomach.

“Hahh. Godss, I’m sorry, little lamb.”

“It’s okay, Mama. It’s okay.

“S’ not.”

And it isn’t. It isn’t, not then, when she’d followed slurred instructions to make them dinner because her mother was too drunk to stand, body shaking with cramps. Lambert spent the next three days washing bloody cloths from between her mother’s legs, even though the stains never came out. She kept the house up, taking over every morning to cook and clean when her mother couldn’t hold the act any longer. When she collapsed from the pain. Clutching her abdomen, crying into the dirt floor. They never made it to market day, and their coin pouch got lighter, just a bit, when Lambert dug it out to buy the bread she couldn’t make. She sobbed into the dirt as loud as she dared with her father inside the house, pretending to pick the weeds in their little garden, planting tears with the seeds.

[jaigny]

Gavin Weinstein

Age: *Smirks* Still young enough to woo you!

(Bout 367 years but was sacrificed with his twin sister and turned on his/their 25th human birthday)

Twin Brother to Gemma Weinstein

Traits: Socially Awkward, Loyal & Neat

Pronouns : He/Him/They

Sexual Orientation: Allosexual Pansexual

Comes from the European/Russian Vampire Clan

(Will be) Step Brother to European/Russian Clan Districts Clan Leader Victor Klaus Straud Black

Story:

Gavin and Gemma certainly weren't expecting for their 25th birthday to be shoved into weird itchy ceremonial white dress robes and then lead into the small clearing inbetween their small village and what is called The Black Forest and soon chased then slaughtered & turned by some red eyed, fanged and clawed dark mass creature.

Terrified they tried though severely injured to hide amongst the roots of a old tree though sadly. Trying to save her brother Gemma kissed his head, told him she loved him and she'd see him soon and quickly urged to to run to the outskirts near the frozen lake and soon after Gavin had stumbled and ran a bout a few kilometers he soon sobbed hearing his sister scream into silence and braced himself on a pine tree and soon felt the hairs on his neck raised indicating he was being watched and turned his head only to come face to face with the creature who was dragging his unconscious sister in one claw aside it. He didn't even have time to breathe as the creature soon took its next victim (Gavin) and then after drinking them almost to death left them in the snow to freeze.

A not long later, booted feet found the twins on the verge of death and sliced his wrist pouring his plasma into the twins mouth one at a time and gently picked up both taking them back to his home.

This man was known as Alexander Validus Straud and was at the time the Clan Leader of a small vampire village that hid in-between the valley hills of Black Forest and Rhine Valley. He is also Victor's great-great-great Grandfather (Victor is a born vampire and he looked to be in his late 20's) and soon the twins when placed in a warm large stone underground room where he looked after the twins as they began to transmission into vampires.

Years went by and they accumulated to being the undead. Victor and Gemma soon became confidants of other another that formed a friendship into something more and only a few years ago got engaged at the Summer Solstice Ball. Victor soon found he had family ties in a place called Forgotten Hollows. (Count Vladislaus Straud lV) and was soon extended a invitation to visit one winter.

Its been a long while since their visit to see Cousin Vlad at his manor but this year was different as they from Vlad have received an invitation to attend another clan's holiday ball in good spirits and as his plus 3. Though Victor and Gemma agreed to attend not just for personal sakes but also it would be good to introduced in higher vampire society and make acquaintances and business deals etc.

Though Gemma at this time was nearing her 2nd trimester and was quite big which had her family doctor slightly concerned for travelling but Gemma hushed him saying she would though overseas be in very capable hands and that she sighed sassing she was pregnant not a fragile piece of glass.

So thus Gavin was pulled into after having conversations with his sister that is was time for him to find someone and possibly settle. Vampire, human she didn't care -- she poked her brother in the chest during one of her bad moodswings -- that she was finished with dealing with her brothers ex lovers! (She always was there condoling his dumpees.) Especially after the last one tried to saddle him and get pregnant for social gain then when she didn't succeed tried to seduce her fiancé. Nope she'd had enough and hoped and prayed he'd find someone at the annual holiday gala. Victor of course says she'd be wasting her breath on a miracle for that to happen which soon found himself being scolded and in her line of ire-- future husband or not!

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(Pictured Clan Leader Victor Klaus Straud Black, His fiancé Gemma Weinstein - Black and her twin brother and entrée Gavin Weinstein.)

*(Files)*

I hope my cute trio enjoy themselves at the holiday ball and aregenuinely excited to meet Martina's Clan as well as the woman herself! @wildmelon

[gripefroot]

A Court of Dusk and Shadows ❲31❳

A dusk chorus of wrens and sparrows fluttered by the balcony as Azriel watched the sun descend, Dymas gleaming above the horizon. Air scented with flowers and salt, breeze rippling through his hair and stretched wings as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt. 

The entire island was drenched in the cacophony of light from the sun: oranges and golds, pinks and purples. It seemed that the Dusk Court inhabitants preferred to inlay their pale buildings and dwellings with glass or crystal so that they reflected light to burst and sparkle everywhere. Soon, he thought, they would have to see the city while the sun was setting. He didn’t doubt the effect would be phenomenal. 

He sensed her rather than heard her: a smile lifted his lips as he half-turned, glancing back at the open glass doors to see Elain - a vision in pale silk with the dusk accentuating the subtle glow that now lived beneath her skin. The ring on her finger caught the light most of all. 

“The view is nice,” Azriel said, turning to lean back against the railing, arms crossed. “But this view is better.”

Color stained her cheeks, and she walked forward on bare feet. As the wind snaked around her it pulled her slip taut to show off her growing belly, and Azriel put a hand there as soon as she was in front of him, standing on her toes to kiss his mouth. His other hand tangled into her loose curls, her jasmine scent settling around him like home. 

“I suppose,” Elain murmured, “that we’re rather exposed.” 

“I doubt anyone has eyesight keen enough to see us from this distance,” he said with a smile. Then, without warning, scooped her into his arms, and turned to leap into the skies as Elain laughed and clung around his neck. 

The air was even sweeter up here - the palace sinking below, wispy clouds their only witness as he banked to circle around the mountain. To have their first true look at the lands the Cauldron had given her, freed of the glamor that had held it in thrall for a thousand years; forested slopes and darkened dips of meadows already lost to the sun. Small villages dotted with lights, pale paths winding up the hills and mountains. And then down to the city in the bay, where even at this height they could hear music. 

“I can’t wait,” Elain said softly into his ear. “I can’t wait to see it all.” 

“I can’t wait to see it all with you,” Azriel whispered back with a nip at her ear. Her beaming smile was a flash of white in the dimming skies, and he circled back up to - well, it was their new home, he supposed - stars twinkled, watching on as he landed on the balcony and carried his wife inside. 

There would be a great deal of work tomorrow and the next day - weeks and months and years to properly learn about and care for this new court. But he swore to himself then - when he set Elain on her feet and lowered his head to kiss the hollow of her shoulder, her hands tugging in his hair - that he’d never allow it to come before them. 

“Az,” she sighed, breathing warmly on his face, and he nuzzled his nose deeper into her flesh, tugging down the straps of her slip to scatter kisses over her shoulder. “Please don’t make me wait.” 

He’d never deny her. 

His clothes littered the marble floor, gilding their clumsy path for the bed - the backs of her knees hit the side, her teeth sinking into his bottom lip as she giggled, and he hissed at the pain, wings flaring to keep them from teetering. Azriel braced one hand on her lower back, the other rucking up her slip as she kissed him bold and fierce. 

“Too long,” Elain huffed when he laid her back, just on the edge of the bed. He stared at the expanse of her creamy throat, swallowing thickly as the scent of her arousal bloomed around them. “It’s been too long.”

He grinned as he did the math, kissing the inside of her thighs as he lowered himself to kneel beside the bed, leaving his wings flared for her admiration. Which she gave freely, biting her lip as she traced over the membranes with one hand, propped on her elbow. 

“Seven days,” Azriel said in a hoarse voice. “Only seven days - and you missed me that badly?” He sank his teeth into her flesh - Elain gasped and laughed, lifting a knee slightly and spreading it to expose herself fully to him, beneath the folds of her slip. Oh, Cauldron - 

“Yes,” she said simply, now raking her fingers through his hair. 

He couldn’t tease any more; not with her glistening and ready and his appetite for his wife roaring back with a vengeance after the past several days - he’d missed her worse than she’d missed him, Azriel thought, and wasted no time gripping her hips and devouring that taste of her; sweet and heady and his desire for her was ravenous -  

Elain was music. Her sighs and mewls, begging for more as she ground herself against him - everything in him seemed like it had been set alight to burn, burn, burn the whole night long. When her climax washed over her, coating his chin and tongue as he growled in approval - he felt as though he’d climaxed, too. With the rushing pleasure in his veins, his head spinning. 

She hurried to pull the slip over her head, scrambling back on the bed as Azriel stood, following her on his hands and knees like a wolf after a lamb. But he grinned, pausing to trace her belly as she collapsed on her back, utterly naked and exposed and willing and beautiful as her head spread around her like a crown of gold. And her eyes - they burned, burning him from the inside out. That growing pressure in his ribs was...it was glowing again, brighter now and reaching for her. 

This was it, wasn’t it? 

Azriel lowered his head, and kissed her. Gripping her chin in one hand to tilt her head back, allowing him to slip his tongue between her lips as she moaned around him. Her own fingers grasping his shoulders, his wings, tangling in his hair - there was time to pause and worship, but later, later...he needed her more than he needed air. 

Their bodies knew each other well enough that entering her was like a dream; slick and hot and welcoming. All while she gazed up at him in wonder, holding his face and tracing the planes of it as if she, too, couldn’t quite believe this - if what she felt was like he was feeling - Azriel groaned, lowering himself to his elbows on either side of her head. He  kissed her again and again and again, moving inside her in time with the crashing waves far below as she -

“I can feel it,” she murmured into his mouth. “I can - feel it - ”

It was growing. Glowing. Building back the foundation in his chest where once tendrils waited, waiting for her - and then crumbled by an unwary spellcaster. Stone by stone, kiss by kiss, whisper by whisper until more than a foundation existed; a great, towering bridge of the sturdiest granite loomed inside of him. Bright white marble threaded with purples and pinks, and reaching...reaching with those golden threads to the female below him as tears leaked from his eyes without realizing it - the broken, hollow cavity in his chest was swallowed up by her, every speck of darkness giving way to light. 

Her climax triggered his. Azriel bit back a roar, instead sinking his teeth into the junction of her neck and shoulder as she cried out his name as if it were a prayer. 

“I feel it, too,” he said, ragged and broken. Managed, somehow, to lift his head as he slowed and stopped, resting his forehead against hers and squeezing his eyes shut. And Elain - his Elain, his wife, his mate, his High Lady - brushed away each tear on his cheeks with her gentle fingers and he realized she was crying, too. “It was worth it,” Azriel breathed. “It was worth every minute of waiting.” 

Her fingers trailed down to his ribs - that once barren, decimated place inside of him that had screamed, groaned, wept and wailed - she was there. No more darkness, but soft light and love utterly concentrated on her. 

They didn’t speak for a long moment. They didn’t need to. He could feel her own wonder, her love and passion and devotion. In that song their souls had always tried to sing, knowing how right it was, finally unleashed and allowed to spill into the world around them. 

Azriel exhaled slowly, bringing in his wings as he collapsed on the bed beside Elain - but didn’t hesitate to draw her into his arms as she curled around him. Her hand resting on his heart, which he grasped and held tight.

“Elain,” he murmured. “Elain, Elain - ”

“I’m here.” A soft whisper, but softer lips that found his shoulder to make a path around a tattoo. Everything between them was gold. Bright, glowing gold; thrumming with life and happiness and awe.

Never to be sundered again. 

⚘ ⚘ ⚘

There was no sleep that night. Not after such an experience. 

The darkened sky and crashing waves beyond the opened doors to the balcony were a quiet background, a slim anchor to the world beyond them. Between worshipping each other slow and savoring, Azriel was content simply to watch his mate. Watch her smile as she fondly moved the hair from his face, touched his cheeks and mouth, hummed her love as it shone through her eyes. 

Elain shivered. Laying on his stomach, he immediately flared out a wing to drape over her bare body - she smiled, and snuggled beneath, pillows and blankets cradling them together. 

“Do you think,” she whispered, the backs of her knuckles against his lips - he chased them with a kiss, “that in a few weeks we’ll be less busy?”

“Yes,” Azriel said. “Everything will settle. At least I hope so - I’m not sure how many more days I can stay in that council chamber without losing my mind.”

Elain gave a laugh, flopping onto her side. “I was hoping that...perhaps we could find a private retreat somewhere on the island,” she said. “For us. Even if we have to stack the stones and thatch the roof ourselves.”

“I’d like that.” He smiled as he combed his fingers through her hair, spread over her breasts. 

“And - we can invite your mother. To come live with us.” 

Azriel lifted his brows. “Permanently?”

Elain smiled. “If she’d like.”

“I think she would like to,” he said, grinning back, “providing she has ample opportunity to forage in the woods and tend to her plants.” 

“I’m sure it wouldn’t be an issue. I’ve noticed the people of the Dusk Court love to wear bright colors - Rumah would enjoy the opportunity to sell her dyes.” 

Azriel hummed in agreement. That his wife - his mate - was thinking of his mother despite all the new burdens on her shoulders...if he didn’t love her more than life itself already, this would have clinched it. But for now, he merely leaned forward, and brushed a gentle kiss over her lips as she smiled. 

“And what of me?” he asked. “How will my High Lady bid me to serve in her court?” 

Elain pursed her lips together - he could sense down their bond a glimmer of displeasure at his calling her High Lady - but she’d better get used to it. “I suppose I shouldn’t be so selfish to want you next to me at all times,” she mused. 

“I wouldn’t complain,” Azriel said. 

“And I don’t think I have the heart to send you away on spying missions - ”

The prospect of leaving her - the bond was too new, too fresh - he gave a growl and tried to nip at her nose, but she giggled and moved away, his teeth clacking in open air. 

“They mentioned at the council that the Dusk Court has no military presence.” Elain propped her head in her palm, a single finger tracing down the slope of his nose as she smiled. “Not to say I’m keenly interested in war, but...some sort of reserve might be prudent. With - with things in disarray in the human lands and on the continent.” 

“I would be very pleased to serve my High Lady in such a capacity,” Azriel said in a purr, adoring the flush of color in her cheeks. 

“I know it’s something you’re rather good at.” Her smile took on a rueful edge. “But - I want you to tell me if you don’t want to do it. I want you to be happy here.” 

“I am happy,” he told her. And it was true - perhaps that was the most astonishing part. A year earlier he’d condemned himself to a life of misery; watching his friends and family partake in all the joys of life while he sulked in the shadows, watching the female he loved stay bound to another - Elain had offered him a hand out of the shadows, drawing him into the light. Azriel’s throat burned, and he swallowed. “But the best part,” he said quietly, “will be coming home every night to you. And, soon - our daughter, too.” 

He could hear the baby’s heartbeat if he held his breath. And beneath his palm, the faintest, tiniest flutters of movement. As she began to explore her earthly body; learning to move and building the muscles and strength it would take to live…

Elain covered his hand with hers, eyes shining. Her fingers were gentle as they wrapped around his jaw. Then she shifted nearer and kissed him - that golden bond sang in response to her desire, his desire - 

At least, Azriel thought blearily as tongues tangled, and she hauled pushed him onto his back to climb atop him, the bond seemed to be making up for all the time it was hidden. Because this - this - this was beyond anything he’d ever imagined. 

⚘ ⚘ ⚘

A quiet clearing of a throat interrupted a meeting the next morning; only some of the council members were there to discuss the current state of affairs in Prythian and beyond, the proposal that Azriel prepare a standing reserve was welcomed freely. Especially as vulnerable as the Dusk Court felt after a curse had taken them so easily. 

He heard the news first as a shadow darted across the room to wind around his shoulder, whispering into his ear as the servant bobbed in a curtsey, and said, 

“My lady has visitors.” 

“Visitors?” Elain frowned across the chamber. 

“They are waiting in your receiving room, my lady.”

Azriel squeezed her hand beneath the table, leaning over to whisper in her ear, “It’s your sisters. Go on - I’ll take care of this.”

Elain’s expression beamed - she stood at once, gathering her balance before following the servant at a rapid pace, pink skirts billowing behind her. A few council members observed this departure with interest. Ishari, however, turned to Azriel and said, 

“Your shadows are quick.” 

“Yes,” Azriel said. 

“Before the curse, our shadowsingers could create illusions with the shadows they commanded,” Ishari said. “They were corporeal at times.” 

“Are there none left?”

Ishari shook his head, a breeze ruffling the papers on the table of maps and old documents, a brief census of the lands near Penumbra that had already been taken. “There were three the day the Cauldron took us. Two died defending the lower levels from fire or crumbling into the sea. The third went mad in the prison, and disappeared.” 

Azriel had nothing to say to that. Perhaps later - but for now he merely straightened in his sawed-off chair, and turned the subject back to infantry and aerial cavalry. He had yet to see the stables of pegasi himself, but he declined Ishari’s offer to show him. He’d wait until Elain could join them. 

The meeting was adjourned at midday. Knowing that Elain was safe and content with her sisters - his shadows were fast, he thought with pride - Azriel wandered the palace with a casual air to count windows and doors and entrances and exits. Nodding to servants or courtiers that passed. Tracking the rooms, peeking through closed doors and around curtains. 

Bad manners, probably. He didn’t care. 

After pausing in the lively, steam-filled kitchens readying for Orla’s party the following night, Azriel secured a tray of refreshments to take back to the High Lady’s rooms, refusing every insistent offer of help. Cauldron, if they saw him as some sort of lord...he’d have to make his position very clear. 

Shadows twisted the door handle to admit him to the airy, cheery receiving room he’d only glanced inside their first night in the palace. Feyre was sitting on the floor, elbow on a low table with Nesta perched in an armchair. Less stiff than usual. Elain sat on the floor as well, ankles tucked beneath her as soft laughter passed between them. Azriel closed the door behind him, a smile for his wife - and then her sisters, as they greeted him. 

“We’ve decided to invade your new home early,” Feyre told him, standing as he set the tray on the table - he knew he was going to be subject to an embrace, and so he allowed it. He still loved Feyre as he always had, despite her mate. Did she know? 

“I suspect you’re welcome to invade at any time,” Azriel said, returning Nesta’s nod. 

“The others will be here tomorrow for the coronation,” Nesta said. 

“It’s not a coronation - ” Elain tried to protest, her cheeks red, but she was ignored by her sisters. Azriel, lips twitching with amusement, gave her an indifferent shrug. 

“And,” Feyre continued, “since you wouldn’t allow me to give you a wedding gift - I’m going to call this a coronation gift, instead.”

“Feyre,” Elain said weakly, embarrassment still simmering from her and down their bond - Azriel shut his mouth and crossed his arms. Feyre snapped her fingers, and an easel appeared, the canvas beneath covered in a cloth. 

“Don’t look at me,” Nesta said, meeting Elain’s eyes as she glanced hopelessly at her eldest sister. “I didn’t know she was planning this.” 

Feyre snapped her fingers again, and the cloth disappeared. 

Azriel blinked. And then stepped closer. 

It was them - Elain and him - that long ago day in the muddy camp before the final battle with Hybern. Azriel hadn’t known how it appeared to those around him - he’d been preoccupied with other concerns - but now he saw it. His darkness, pushing up against...Elain’s light. Between them, the voice of Truth-Teller offered from his scarred hand to her unblemished one. He saw his own pinched brow, his unyielding mouth; he saw the grief around Elain’s eyes, her defeated posture. But the painted rendition of them, of this moment - their eyes met in the canvas, in a burning, golden bridge that pulsed inside of him now, as if in response to the memory.

“Oh,” Elain said in a small voice, and sensing her attention, Azriel was at her side in two steps, offering a hand to help her to her feet. “Oh, Feyre, it’s…”

Lovely wasn’t quite the right word. Not with his wings bandaged and a war camp surrounding them, painted in dark blurs. 

“It’s perfect,” Azriel said gruffly. 

“Oh, it is.” Elain leaned her head against his chest, her curls flowing over his scaly armor like a waterfall. Feyre, of course, was beaming. 

“I knew, then,” Feyre told them. “Well - I suspected before then. But I think I knew at that moment. That it was...something more.” Her bright gaze turned slyly to Azriel. “Elain told us that it snapped.” 

“It did,” he said, holding his wife close. “But it would have been alright if it hadn’t, too. We had enough love without it.” 

Feyre’s lips wobbled. And then she stepped around the table to embrace Elain, the latter’s tears making the air saltier than the sea far below. 

“I didn’t bring a gift,” Nesta said from her chair. “As I respected Elain’s request that we bring none.” 

Elain gave a watery laugh as she pulled away from Feyre, Feyre sticking her tongue out at Nesta. Nesta only shrugged. Rather than interrupt that, Azriel reached out to clasp Elain’s hand, bending over to say into her ear, 

“Don’t forget to eat. I’m going to explore the city.” 

“Without me?” Her doe-brown eyes gazed up at him - but it was amusement that flickered there, not annoyance. 

“Yes,” Azriel said. “You’re going to be kept selfishly by your sisters the rest of the day, I suspect.”

“Absolutely,” Feyre said. “She has much to tell us.” 

Cauldron, he did not want to be here. But still, he grinned as he kissed Elain goodbye, lingering only to touch her stomach to farewell the baby as well, and left the females to their devices as he closed the door to a quiet exchange and joyous laughter.