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myhockeyworld87 · 5 years ago

Text

Nervous Regrets - Tyler Seguin - Part 6

Requested: No

Word Count: 3922

Warning: Cursing

POV: Reader

Notes: Total fluff piece. Currently finishing part 7.

The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind; to call it a roller coaster of emotions would be too cliché. It was more like that carnival ride, the one called the Zipper; the long-armed ferris wheel type ride that held several free flipping cars, that caged your body in, as it rotated around and around. Spinning constantly, flipping you through the air when you would reach the peak of the arm; the ride left you giddy and nauseous all at the same time. In your teens, it was your favorite ride; now in your late twenties it was a metaphor for your life.

Last night you had no intentions of telling Tyler you were pregnant; in your circle of friends you were known as everyone’s confidant. The fact that you couldn’t keep your own secret wasn’t lost on you. There was no going back now, but what your next move with Tyler was going to be still had you guessing. From the moment you’d found out, you knew Tyler would be a part of the baby’s life; never questioned that. Clearly you hadn’t anticipated the joy he would experience; while not at first, it was quite evident at the end of the night he was excited about being a father.

So, here you were, sitting on your couch in an old pair of Dallas Stars sweats; eating ice cream straight from the container, while you watched your baby daddy play hockey. While said baby, could not be seen yet; you were obviously taking this mom indulging in her favorite foods’ thing seriously. The only thing missing was the pickles, and since they made you nauseous even before you were pregnant; you had an inkling you wouldn’t be running to the store any time soon. It felt good to watch the Stars play again; you’d blocked them out of your life, just as you had Tyler. Oh, you still kept in touch with some of the wives and girlfriends, not so much now; but the first few weeks you did. It felt odd sitting in front of the television, when it was a home game; the norm usually being sitting in the designated wags section. While you didn’t quite belong there anymore now; this didn’t feel quite right either. But really was there anything in between?

“Come on ref, that’s a fucking horrible call?” you yelled at the tv, then spooned another bite in your mouth, as you watched Rads get called on some bullshit high stick. Thankfully Tyler wasn’t on the penalty kill unit; it was added stress neither him or you needed. With about four minutes into the second, a bad turnover by the Kings had Tyler dangling the puck around the goalie. Weaving in and out looking for the perfect shot; you hadn’t realized you were on the edge of your seat. Faking to his left he shifted at the last minute, completely fooling Quick in the process; the puck skidded over the goal line, sounding the horn. “Score,” shouting at the empty living room, you cheered.

Finishing the game, and the container of ice cream, you turned off the tv and headed to bed. Weeks of sleeping, still hadn’t prepared you for this tired feeling pregnancy brought with it; your body was exhausted. Mentally however, you couldn’t make your mind stop spinning; thoughts of Tyler occupying them. When you met him, he’d been your Prince Charming; sweeping you off your feet into a love so grand there was no other possible ending then happily ever after. That Cinderella wasn’t knocked up at the end of movie, after the prince had cheated on her; was something Disney must have omitted. Being the heroine of this fairy tale was going to take more than a pair of glass slippers that was for sure; hopefully, in sleep you’d find a godmother, that brought you sage advice and wisdom instead of a dress.

When morning came however, you were no further ahead than you’d been the night before; so, getting up, you headed to work. The day went blessed easy in the morning; it was the afternoon that turned into a cluster fuck. First, Andrea brought you in a beautiful bouquet of red roses, long stemmed placed in an exquisite vase; they were the classic, something every woman dreams of receiving. It was who they were from that had you frowning. The card read simply, Hope you are feeling better, Always, Robert. Somehow you had pushed thoughts of him to the recesses of your brain. Despite his possessive nature, Robert deep down was a good person. He deserved to be told face to face, that things between the two of you weren’t going to happen.

The second time she walked in, Andrea wasn’t carrying anything; which didn’t disturb you; that was not until she held your office door open for not one, not two, not even three; but ten gorgeous arrangements of flowers; all in hues of lilac. That the color was a melding of both blues and pinks wasn’t lost on you; though it surprised you Tyler would come up with it. Delicate blooms of roses, hydrangea dotted with small sprigs of baby’s breath adorn most of the vases. However, one stood out, while it still contained roses, this one had a unique flower interlaced in it; star shaped little blossoms ran up and down the stem. What stood out was the fragrance, sweet smells of springtime filled the air; giving off an aroma of new beginnings.

Apparently, the florist had come along to deliver the massive number of flowers; she saw you take interest in the bloom. “It’s a hyacinth, the flower of forgiveness. In the world of magic, it is said to symbolize love and happiness as well as protect it’s recipient from harm.” Handing you the card that went with the arrangements, she turned to leave. It read simply, I’m sorry. I’ll never fuck up again. Love For All Eternity, Tyler. That’s when you noticed that damn single tear was back.

“Thank you, so much. They’re all so extraordinary.”

“Your welcome my dear. You must be very special and he must be extremely sorry. It’s not every day I get a call with such specific requests. Most men think the rose covers it all. But yours, he knew what he wanted before I could even make suggestions. Trust me they weren’t easy to find at this time of year either, or I would’ve done more than one bouquet.” She walked out the door, and that’s when you lost it. Dropping down into your chair, you sat there and sobbed. Sure, Tyler had sent you flowers after he cheated; now that you thought about it, they’d all been roses. Always in various shades and color, but always just vase after vase of roses. That he had specifically requested these for you this time, meant more to you than every rose he had ever bought you. Your heart melted a little more, the ice thawing so that even you weren’t sure if it existed. He’d said he was sorry, practically begged for your forgiveness, swore it wouldn’t happen again; you weren’t sure it was possible, but this, this was telling you that perhaps you should at least try. It wouldn’t be easy but maybe, just maybe if you did you both could find peace and be able to move forward together.

The hour you took to collect yourself, put you behind with work and had you staying later than you anticipated; which meant you were running late when Tyler showed up. The small apartment was something you rented on a month to month basis as you tried to determine what the best living arrangement for you and the baby would be; it was nowhere near the house you’d lived in with Ty. Running to the door to answer it; you were still in your work clothes. “Hi Ty! Sorry I got caught up at work and ran late. I just need to change.” He stepped into the apartment, taking in all the surroundings. It had been furnished when you rented it, everything very clinical and clean, nothing that spoke to the person that lived there. All your belongings still in storage. “Have a seat, do you want a drink or anything? God, I think I have some wine or something here, not that I’ll be joining you.”

“I’m good babe. I’m not drinking anymore either.”

You were halfway back the hall to your bedroom, when what he said actually registered in your brain. Sliding your heels off, you had to know more “What? Why aren’t you drinking?”

“I just…I don’t know. You can’t drink, I kind of feel like it’s something I can do with you; at least until the baby’s born.” No wonder you loved this man; that he wanted to do even something this tiny meant more than words could ever say. Entering the bedroom, you quickly grabbed a pair of jeans and a loose flowy top; thank god jeans were made with spandex in them nowadays, not knowing how many more times you’d be able to put them on this easily. Grabbing a pair of chunky wedged sandals, you headed back out to the living room; back to Tyler.

“So where are we headed?”

“I already told you, that’s a secret. You ready to go.” Excitement was radiating off of him; it was contagious.

“Yeah, I just want to grab a quick protein bar. I think someone’s feeling a little snackish.”

Chuckling he responded back, “Would that be you or the baby? Because I distinctly remember you used to always have snacks in that suitcase you call a purse.”

Playfully, you swatted his arm. “So, I like my snacks, nothing wrong with that. Besides I also remember a particular someone, who would dig in that so-called suitcase, for something to eat on a regular basis.”

“You got me there, babe. You did pack two didn’t you,” this while winking at you.

“Of course.” With that, the two of you strode out the door, to the car. Being ever the gentleman, Tyler came over and opened the door for you; that he took the seatbelt and proceed to buckle you in was new. “What are you doing? You know; I can buckle the seatbelt.”

“Just making sure you’re both safe and snug in here.” This over-protective thing was going to take some getting used to; though it did tear down yet another wall that you had built up against him.

The drive was silent; soft music playing in the background; nothing like the drives you used to take. When his hand would be in yours or on your thigh; music as loud as it could be, you both singing the whole way, Tyler mainly off key. Reaching your hand over you began to scan for a station you both enjoyed. “What, you didn’t like what I had on?”

“Ummm, no, not really. I thought we were in a freaking elevator,” chuckling you added “in a museum, run by dead people.”

“It’s supposed to be soothing and create a loving environment for the baby.” Raising an eyebrow, you looked at him, like he had just grown three heads.

“Where did you come up with that?”

“I read it in one of my daddy baby books.”

“Oh!,” it was the only response you could think of; your mind still grasping at the fact that he was reading a book for expecting fathers. That wall you thought about earlier was definitely crumbling now. “So, did you learn anything else,” this said while you worked your way back to the station with the elevator music on it.

“Hmm, that you should start to show soon. That the kid is the size of an apple, pear or orange; that seems to vary depending on what book I read. Oh, and that we should be able to find out the sex at that next ultrasound you mentioned.” He seemed to really be doing his homework. “Do you want to find out the sex?”

“Ummm, I hadn’t given it much thought. What do you want to do? I think it’s a decision we both have to make. Like I don’t think I could stand it, if you knew and I didn’t. It would drive me insane.” People always said that life was full of surprises; you kind of felt that statement contradictory. There truly weren’t many really authentic surprises left in life, but the miracle of life itself. However, knowing would make things so much easier, you’d be able to pick out the color of the baby’s room, buy all his or her clothes in appropriate colors, even have his or her name all ready. You really could go either way, and maybe this decision could be up to Tyler.

“Hmmm, I think it would be fun to know. I kind of remember one of the guys talking about doing a baby reveal or something; which sounds like a lot of fun.” Well that decision was made; we’d be finding out at the next ultrasound it seemed. “But you know, when are we ever gonna get a surprise like this. Maybe when we have the second one, we can find out the sex, but I think this first one I don’t want to know. If that’s ok with you?” Woah, and here you thought that there were no real surprises in life, that statement right there was one; first that he didn’t want to know, second, that he was already planning your next child, together.

Your stunned silence, had Tyler looking over at you wondering if you’d heard him. “Yeah, I agree, I don’t want to know. Unless it’s like super obvious or something.” Staring out the window, you tried not to focus on images his words evoked; a happy loving family, Tyler playing with your toddler on the floor of the living room, while you fed child number two. It was something you hadn’t let yourself think about; hadn’t seen this as your future after everything that had happened. But here, now, hearing his words; the picture was so real, you felt you could reach out and touch it. Shaking yourself, you brought yourself back to the present; seeing familiar homes pass by. “Are we going to the house?” While you’d made headway today; you weren’t completely sure you were ready to walk back into the home you once shared.

“Umm, no.” His short answer was all you received. A few more turns had you slowing down to the apparent destination. The large house loomed in front of you; recognition dawning on your face as the vehicle made its way through the gate. You’d been here before, probably driven past it over a hundred or more times; always with this same man by your side, but never up the drive to the house itself. To say that the look you gave him was questioning was an understatement. “Surprise!” That, that was the only word he said, it really didn’t give you any answers.

He seemed so pleased with himself; yet you had no clue as to why. “Ok, I’m gonna need a little more than that Ty. Surprise, what?”

“It’s the house, the one we always talked about raising our family in.”

“I can see that. Why are we here?”

“I bought it, for us.” He stated it that simply; smiling brilliantly at you. That you needed a deep cleansing breath before you even thought about replying back to him should have made him at least sense your mood; instead the lovable idiot just continued to smile.

Massaging your temple, from the headache you could feel forming; you spoke as calmly as possible. “You did what? Tyler, what the hell are you thinking?”

The smile that lit up his face dropped instantaneously. “I thought this could be a fresh start for us. Plus, we’ve always wanted this house. It came up on the market a few weeks ago; obviously I didn’t buy it then, we weren’t together. But I called yesterday and it was still for sale, so I had the realtor start working on everything, it’s practically ours.”

“We’re not together now Ty. Why would you have him start the whole process? What the hell were you thinking?” That wall, which had been crumbling before, was now being rebuilt by a dozen stonemasons; their incessant pounding making your brain hurt. “Is this some grand gesture to get me to forgive you?”

“Yes…no. God I can’t do anything fucking right with you; can I?” His head crashed against the back of the seat and he blew out a frustrated breath; hands clenching the steering wheel in front of him. “I’m trying here. I really am. Can you just go inside and look at the place? Not for me, hell not even for you; but for the baby?” The pleading sound in his voice had you halting progress on the barrier around your heart.

“Ok,” you relented; it wouldn’t hurt to just look at the place. The door to the house opened then and Tyler’s realtor stepped out; suit and tie all business like, ready to make the sale of the year. Opening the car door, you got out walking around, matching strides with Tyler. Greeting the realtor, you tried to keep an open mind; you’d dreamed about what the interior would look like, this was finally your chance to see it. The massive double doors opened to an understated entry way; an elegant dining room off to your right. The place was tastefully decorated; not ornate or too elaborate, more relaxed as if the people who lived here truly made this a home and not some decorated show piece. The office on the left, was light and airy, not heavy with wall to wall bookshelves; a family portrait hung above the fireplace. You couldn’t help but imagine your own family’s photo hanging there.

Continuing the tour, next you saw the kitchen; flashes of you baking and preparing meals for Tyler and your children popped into your head. It opened up to a family room; where you saw the kids playing with the dogs. Walking down the hall, you entered the master suite, enormous in size it looked out onto the pool; a king size bed fit easily into the room. Images of you and Tyler rolling around on the bed took control of your brain, arms entangled, bodies sweaty, moans filling the air; you looked away needing to shake the thoughts from your head. A sitting area off in the corner offered an opportunity to enjoy your coffee in the morning light. French doors leading outside to a private alcove overlooking the pool; a lounger large enough for two people covered most of the area. It was intimate, shielding its inhabitants from small prying eyes; a place the two of you could make love for hours on end. It was too much; you were standing outside and yet you needed air. Falling back on the sunbed you’d just sexually fantasied about being on with Tyler; you sat, taking deep breaths.

Tyler whispered something to the realtor, who strode back inside the house; leaving the two of you alone. Sitting beside you, he quietly asked, “you ok?”

It was a loaded question, physically you were fine; mentally you thought you were going to explode. “I don’t know Ty.” The look of concern that crossed his face, had you quickly following that up. “It’s not the baby, we’re ok. It’s just this…” waving your hand at the beautifully manicured landscape in front of you. “This is supposed to be our dream home and we’re just not in that place right now. I won’t lie to you; I wish we were.”

Taking his hand, he made soothing circles up and down your back; the movement evoking all those images from just moments ago. “Babe, we’re going to get there. I know it’ll be hard, but just try to have some faith in me.” Turning your head, you stared into his eyes, searching for the trust he spoke of; wanting so much more. There was hope there, hope for a future the two of you could build. Love, so much love it made you ache; even a tinge of sadness for what had been lost. Finally, you saw it, that small glimpse of faith; that it came from the reflection of your eyes in his, is what surprised you. His hand stopped; simultaneously your breathing sped up. Even though the small voice in the back of your brain told you not to surrender; you pressed forward anyway. Taking his face in the palm of your hands, you brought his lips to yours; it was a sweet caress, filled with promises. Slow and gentle, the kiss left you dizzy; neither one of you fighting for control, just relishing the touch of each other. Mouths fussed together as one; you could’ve stayed like this for hours, but softly you pulled away, resting your forehead against his.

His eyes were closed, lids hooded so you couldn’t tell what was going through his mind. Why you thought you’d be able to know what he was thinking, when you didn’t even know where your mind was; you couldn’t comprehend. All you knew was that it was a start; a tiny move in hopefully the right direction. Taking a second waiting for him to look at you; when he didn’t, finally you said, “I’m still not sure you should buy this place.”

Eyes flying open, he looked at you; grabbing your hands, he helped you to your feet. He drew you to the edge of the water by the pool. Standing behind you, he turned you to look at the expansive lawns. His hands encircled your waist, caressing your stomach, where your child grew. Resting his chin on your shoulder; he spoke, his voice low, “Can you see it? Right over where the water’s real shallow. The kids are splashing around with the dogs. I’m over there by the grill, cooking up some burgers for dinner. And right there,” pointing to edge of the pool. “You have our newest little one in your arms, rocking back and forth near the kids in case they need you.” That you could almost smell the burgers, bespoke of how vivid the image became in your head. You wanted, no needed it all; could only pray for it to become reality.

That’s when it happened, you weren’t entirely sure what it was at first; but then it fluttered again. “Did you feel that?”

“Was that the baby?”

Tears sprang to your eyes; only this time they were tears of joy. “Yeah, I really think it was.”

“Think he’ll do it again?”

“I don’t know, maybe? Wait did you say, him?”

“Did I? Hmmm, maybe I did.” Then as if the little one knew we were discussing him or her; it happened again. “I think he or she likes their new house.”

“Tyler, don’t you think we should talk about this?”

“Mmmm, too late, I already told the realtor to have the papers ready, for when we go back inside.” With that he took off running before you could smack him; playfully of course. Shaking your head at what had transpired in the last thirty minutes or so; you wandered around the property. Tyler, had gone inside, you assumed to sign said papers. Maybe, just maybe, he was right and this could be the new beginning you were searching for.

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ladyatthecrossroads · 5 years ago

Note

prompt list 40.“You’re sweeter than cake.” with Caduceus if its not too much trouble?

Sorry this took so long to complete, anon. It’s a bit longer than I expected it to be. I hope you enjoy!Title: Sweeter Than CakePairing: Caduceus x readerWord Count: 2435

It feels good to be back in Zadash. Your adventuring party had dragged you all across the continent of Wildemount and beyond, to the shores of the Menagerie Coast and the waves of the Lucidian Ocean. Finally back in the Empire, you were more than happy to put the relatively lawless ways of the ocean and pirating aside. You had missed this, just walking along the cobbled streets, passing the various vendors out and about with their wares in the Pentamarket. The city was a hectic place, bustling with activity, but it definitely was preferable to struggling to survive on a boat in the middle of the ocean. This was downright relaxing, comparatively.

“Man, I can’t believe Caduceus has never had a birthday party,” comes the trilling voice of Jester as the two of you stroll along the boulevard. The easily excitable tiefling skips along beside you, occasionally linking arms with you for the briefest of moments before rushing off towards whatever stall or tent catches her eye. You, however, have a goal in mind, a very specific goal.

Leaving the rest of your party back at the Leaky Tap, you recall the conversation that brought you here, snooping about the Pentamarket in search of the best variety of baked goods you could find. The subject of birthdays had arisen, and Jester had been very eager to share the details of the various past parties her mama had thrown for her as a little girl. This had led to each of you throwing in your two copper on the matter and your own personal experiences.

Of course, you hadn’t missed the far off look on the firbolg cleric’s face that spoke of fond memories. He had lazily scrubbed at his brilliant pink beard with that thoughtful expression he always wore, commenting plainly on how many seasons it had been since he last celebrated a birthday with his family. And when you had questioned him further on the subject, he appeared to grow sheepish and told you about how his family never really threw “parties,” per se. Birthdays seemed more a day to ponder your personal growth and reflect inwardly on how best to serve the Wildmother. Seeing that this answer didn’t exactly satisfy you, he then made mention that his parents would always cook his favorite food, at least.

You can understand; Caduceus is an incredibly humble individual, after all, and humble celebrations seem enough to please him. Still, you can’t quite shake the odd lingering disquiet you feel. You care for all of your comrades, but the firbolg cleric is very dear to you.

From the first time you had laid eyes on him, he had exuded such a calming aura and had been a paramount force in overcoming your grief and coming to terms with the losses you all had sustained on the road thus far. He always made time to listen when you came to him with a problem, offering helpful advice. He was so insightful, even if he was a bit naïve to the outside world. You’d both promised to lean on each other for support whenever the need arose. It was for your mutual benefit, and ultimately the good of the group, you’d told yourself.

It seemed to just come naturally that you had then fallen for him.

You want to do this for him. He deserves it after everything Caduceus has done for you. For all of you. He deserves to know that he is irrevocably and undeniably a beloved member of the Mighty Nein.

“Oh, what about this one?” Jester’s attention is caught by a baker placing hot fruit pies out to cool in a store window. The aroma seeping out the front door smells nice; the sweetness of candied fruits and the savory scent of freshly baked breads combine and you find yourself leaning forward in that direction to catch more of the delicious fragrance. Your feet move almost of their own accord, drawn in by the promise of tasty treats within. The tiefling cleric is very eager to bound to your side, linking arms with you once again as the two of you enter the shop.

The tinkling of bells announce your arrival, even though the front door is already wide open. Magic almost seems to permeate the air; there’s a palpable buzz of arcane energy, intertwined in the heady scents of the pastries. A young woman wipes her hands on her apron and looks at you, and you can see she is of some sort of Elvish descent; half-elf, you wager. Her blue eyes twinkle at you and though she is fair of face, you can see shining silver strands among her ashen brown hair. It seems impossible to determine her age, as you know that half-elves generally live longer than a human yet not as long as a full-blooded elf.

She regards you with friendly curiosity and a warm smile. “Welcome,” she says, a lilt to her voice that reminds you of a certain lavender-skinned tiefling, and you smile in fond remembrance, “Can I help you find anything today?”

A brief, but detailed conversation ensues, occasionally interrupted by one of many of Jester’s seemingly endless lines of random questions. The clerk seems to have infinite patience. You describe the occasion and general idea of what you’re looking to buy, and she is very helpful in selecting a treat of appropriate taste and size. You leave with a cake box of a medium size and a sense of accomplishment and anticipation. You hope Caduceus will like it.

When you reach the Leaky Tap, your eyes search for your ragtag group. You find them quite easily; even in the dim lighting, Caduceus’s tall frame and pink hair are not difficult to spot. The firbolg’s back is to you as he converses with Fjord and Beau, but Caleb is the one to meet your gaze. A quick assessment of you and the package you hold and he gives you a knowing look when you silently plea for him not to spoil the surprise. He puts his head back down to the book he’s reading but you catch a small glimpse of a smile he tries to hide.

You glance at Jester and the tiefling is practically vibrating in excitement beside you. Her hands go to press upon your shoulders and urge you closer. You can feel your heart beating faster. Together, the two of you cross the room as inconspicuous as you can. Fjord and Beau glance up and over Caduceus’s shoulder, eyes widening and eyebrows cocking, and that gives him the clue to turn around; and that’s when the two of you begin to sing.

It’s entirely worth it. You inhale deeply as Jester and you belt out a somewhat harmonious rendition of Happy Birthday. Your arms present the wrapped confection, held out before you as you circle the table to set it down. Caduceus’s expression is filled with mild surprise and wonderment, his light pink eyes travelling over the expanse of your face before trailing down to the cake box you hold and then back up to meet your eyes. His smile is warm and gentle and you think you can see a faint warming of color bloom across his cheeks. It might just be a trick of the light; you aren’t certain.

“Well,” he says, in that low, rolling rumble of his, “This was unexpected. How nice.” He retracts his hands from where they were folded together on the table before him, and you set down the box. He sits there, eyes glued to you and your face, still smiling, lazy and content.

You puff your chest up in pride and gesture to the box before him. “Well, go on. Open it.” And, watching as those large hands of his move to the simply-tied string holding the container closed, your own fumble together, twisting and wringing as you bite your lip in earnest. “I hope you like it.”

What he reveals is the modestly decorated cake you had picked out. Instead of icing, you had asked for powdered confectioners sugar to be sprinkled liberally about the sponge. The cake itself was actually a dome of a lovely muted shade of green tinted with brown from the baking process. It is a simple design, nothing too fancy, as you had chosen it for flavor rather than looks.

Despite the outward humbleness of the cake’s appearance, Caduceus looks pleased. “Oh, wow. Look at that. That looks…” He closes his eyes and inhales the sweet scent, and you can practically see his eyes roll back in his head beneath his fluttering lids. His smile grows. “I know this smell. It’s wonderful.”

“I thought you would. It’s a tea cake… or, rather, it’s a cake made with tea. Green tea,” you correct yourself.

His head turns and a hand goes to wrap gently around your shoulder and pull you down to him into a hug. “You got me a green tea cake. That’s so nice. You didn’t have to get me a cake.” There’s a light note of bashfulness to his voice and you smile, returning the hug.

“I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to do something nice for you,” you admit, heat rising to your face and you silently thank the gods that there is very low light in the tavern. “You’re always doing things for us, healing us, you know.”

“Yeah, Caduceus,” the other cleric chimes in, that teasing note in her voice as she pops up over on the other side of him, “And you know we wouldn’t do this for just anybody, you know? We really like you. And, I mean, some of us really, really like you. Like, a lot. Like, just so much, you know, so—“

Dear gods, she really did have to just ham it up, didn’t she. You shoot her a glare from behind Caduceus’s back before Fjord pipes up.

“I think the man gets it, Jester,” he says, clearing his throat and trying to inconspicuously glance between the two of you with a look. The air has gotten noticeably warmer, or maybe that’s just you. Either way, you’re grateful for the interference.

The tiefling has the audacity to shoot you an innocent look, despite the mischievous smile clear behind her eyes. When Caduceus turns to look up at you, she makes a rather inappropriate gesture in your line of sight. You want to smack her, but Caduceus grabs your hand and your attention.

“Thank you so much. This is more than anyone’s ever done for me in a long time. Really, thank you.” His eyes are squinted with delight as he looks up at you and his long ears do a happy little flick, and it is the most adorable thing you think you’ve ever seen; a seven-foot-tall, pink-haired firbolg being absolutely giddy at being able to celebrate his birthday so far from his home. He tugs gently on your hand. “Come sit. Let’s eat.”

From his pack, Caduceus produces a set of cutlery to start cutting the cake and you take them gently from his grasp to divvy up the slices yourself. You reserve him the first and biggest piece after sizing up just how much to give to everyone else, after which you all eagerly dig in.

The flavoring is subtle and not overly sweet and you can tell from the expressions of your compatriots that it had been a good while since they had indulged in something to satisfy their sweet tooth. Beau, Jester, Fjord and Nott all seem to devour their shares within mere seconds, whilst Yasha, Caleb and Caduceus each take their time and savor the experience.

You’re focusing so intently on Caduceus’s reaction, taking in every minute shift in expression with each bite he takes, how he seems to chew so methodically and ensure he gets everything out of it; the taste, the texture, every little nuance and flavor he can possibly experience. It’s downright mesmerizing how one man can be so thorough and savor each little bite.

Jester’s foot connects lightly with your shin under the table, snapping you out of your reverie. Maybe you’d been staring for a bit too long. You snap to attention, bashfully returning you your slice and finishing it off. It was delicious and so worth the cost.

A quick prestidigitation spell cleans off the plates and utensils and you help Caduceus gather and sort them all and put them away while the rest of your crew begin to go about their own independent business. Caleb sticks his nose back into his spell books; Nott has slipped into the crowd and disappeared; Fjord and Jester have gotten into some conversation about what plans to make for the coming day; Yasha is brooding in a corner; and you think you see Beau wandering over to the bar, practically itching to start a tavern brawl.

You, meanwhile, are pointedly not looking at Caduceus, fixating yourself on cleaning up the remnants of dessert and simply enjoying the relative silence before things get too rowdy. After a moment, you steel your nerve, asking, hopefully, “Did you like it?”

You don’t know how he does it, how he’s always so content all the time, how easily he grins like the cat that ate the canary, slowly, languorously. Somehow the world just melts away and it’s only you and him. “I did, thank you.”

“And it wasn’t too sweet?”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head, pink eyes warming over your face, “The cake was sweet, but…” He lifts one large hand, fingers outstretched, and you are powerless to move away as he gently swipes them down your cheek. As he pulls them away, you see a small smudge of powdered sugar that he brushes his thumb over. You lift your hands to your face, semi-self-conscious now of having any more sugar there, feeling the blush rapidly rise to the surface; you pray the light is low enough that the firbolg doesn’t notice.

But then he looks earnestly into your eyes and you catch your breath. His face is so close now that his breath fans across your lips. His thumb catches your chin and he leans in to peck gently at your lips, and you’re melting all over again.

Caduceus pulls away from you, and you see his tongue flicker out to pan over his bottom lip just briefly. Honestly, you feel a little woozy. Did Caduceus just… kiss you? Did that really just happen? You could die happy. He smiles.

“Just as I thought,” he rumbles, “You’re sweeter than cake.”

#critical role x reader #critical role #critical role imagine #critical role campaign 2 #caduceus x reader #caduceus clay #caduceus #mighty nein x reader #the mighty nein #x reader #reader insert #request fill

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kathyprior4200 · 5 years ago

Text

Behind the Innocent Mask

(Evil Niffty AU)

With a snap of Alastor’s fingers, a fire blazed to life with a whoosh in a small circular fireplace. A dark figure fell into the flames, the head poking out and one dark claw resting on the side. He Radio Demon walked over and picked up the figure with his hand. A large yellow eyeball opened up, taking in the curious faces of Angel, Charlie, and Vaggie.

With a poof and a squeak, the smoke and ash cleared and the demon was revealed.

“This little darling is Niffty!” Alastor introduced before letting go. She landed on her feet. The short cyclops demon wore a bright pink 50’s dress with three white polka dots near the top and a poodle off to the right. Her arms and legs were stick thin. Her short hair was fiery magenta with one portion of it yellow. Like other demons, her teeth were razor sharp.

“Hi! I’m Niffty!” she greeted with a wave. “It’s nice to meet you! It’s been a while since I’ve made new friends! Her pupil grew smaller and darted in circles.

“Why are you all women?” she asked. “Have any men here?! I’m sorry, that’s rude,” she added quickly.

She briefly picked up Charlie, while Vaggie angrily pointed her spear at her. Angel flinched back in surprise. Due to his feminine appearance, Niffty thought Angel was a woman.

She darted behind an overturned couch. “Oh man, this place is filthy!” she exclaimed. She lifted up a couch cushion and spotted a spider dangling from a string of web. She chomped on the spider and continued talking. “It really needs a ladies’ touch, which is weird, because you’re all ladies, no offence.”

She rushed toward stained glass windows with a dust ruffle.

“Oh my gosh, this is awful! No, no, no…” She darted around, removing cobwebs. She ran forward and poked at a piece of cloth with a sewing needle, then continued to clean the room. Alastor grinned in amusement and wondered away while the others stared in disbelief.

The blue piece of cloth which looked like a bug was, in fact, one of many Voodoo like critters that Alastor summoned. Or, in this case, he had stabbed it with a sewing needle before Niffty picked it up and delightfully gobbled it down before continuing her work. It was Alastor’s ways of rewarding her for both being polite and being a source of entertainment.

Later on, Niffty had finished tidying up the room. She walked into the lobby and happened to find Alastor pulling Vaggie and Charlie close and remarking, “This is going to be very entertaining!” Pricks of jealousy stabbed through her mind. Ever the hopeless romantic, Niffty had an obsession with men for as long as she could remember. In her life as a human, she had fantasized about meeting the love of her life and going on various adventures with him. But working as a maid and chimney cleaner to make ends meet in America wasn’t particularly ideal. There were the additional problems of discrimination against women and the Japanese. Indeed, the Pearl Harbor military strike happened in her human lifetime, traumatizing her and her family for many months. If that wasn’t enough, Niffty had been molested by her conservative uncle. That event became one of her angst-filled poem themes she kept in her hot pink notebook.

Things went from bad to worse, when as a young teen, she died in a house fire, after a bad incident while serving an upper class European-American family. It occurred in the 1950s.

Niffty soon ended up in Hell, but could only witness events while living in fire. Fortunately, Hell was full of fire and brimstone, so the servant demon could wonder around. From afar, she admired all the powerful overlords, eventually working for Alastor after he charmed her and offered her a deal. To gain a physical body and meet new friends, assist the Radio Demon. She eagerly accepted.

Sewing, cooking, cleaning, reading and writing were Niffty’s favorite hobbies. She did all of them when she was a human and still enjoyed them in Hell. Additionally, she could speak some Japanese.

When Niffty was cleaning the room, she could see concern in the eyes of Vaggie, Angel, and Charlie. She figured that they weren’t used to seeing a demon so hyperactive, with strokes of a chaotic nature thrown in. (With being summoned by Alastor several times, she was bound to pick up a few of his traits).

Niffty watched from a distance as Alastor changed Charlie’s outfit and shoved Vaggie aside. She briefly looked down at her dress and admired the poodle design. Every time Alastor looked at it, disgust would reach his red eyes, but Niffty also sensed some deeper discomfort. It was amusing during the few times when he let his guard down like that.

Back when she was human, short with black hair, Niffty would often slip into other characters to practice her acting. Dressing up and “being” other characters was a fun experience, and practical, too. In her spare time as a human, Niffty would sew costumes for herself and even play instruments such as the piano, harmonica, and saxophone.

In many ways, she was similar to Alastor; almost always smiling, energetic, enjoying the thrill of theater. It was so easy for Niffty to get immersed in the realm of fantasy and romance.

After all, fantasies were better than hell-filled lives of low self-esteem and self-doubt.

Even now, Niffty was putting on a happy face after dusting off the old grandfather clock in the corner. (It always seemed to stay dirty no matter how hard she tried to clean it). With more demon guests supposedly arriving, she would have to prepare some meals soon. Cooking was fun most of the time, but being pressured to serve fast without any form of gratitude from customers, was tiresome.

Although Niffty wouldn’t admit it to anyone, she had an awareness of the social structure of Hell, based on her observations hidden within flames. When putting her mind to it, Niffty could be quite manipulative. In fact, she wasn’t hesitant to concoct plans by herself for her own ends. It gave her something to think about while her hands were busy.

As Alastor sang his reprise, Niffty happily looked at her new outfit conjured by Alastor’s magic: a black and pink dress with a round hat with daisies on the top. Alastor pulled the residents into a hug as Voodoo spirits appeared from the darkness. Niffty admired the show, briefly wishing she had powers like that.

There was a quote that Alastor used that stuck with her: “The world is a stage, and a stage is a world of entertainment.”

If only she could create that worldly stage for herself.

Alastor kicked a skull away and Niffty rushed to clean up the pieces with a broom and dustpan. A boom rattled the hotel and blew out the windows. Niffty, mesmerized, soon witnessed a door flying straight into her face. Knocked back by the force, she knew that no human could survive that.

Niffty soon appeared outside with the rest of the group, watching as Sir Pentious arrived with his blimp. She watched with a small smile on her face as Alastor wrapped the blimp with black tentacles and causing everything to explode.

“Well, I’m starved!” Alastor exclaimed to the shocked group. “Who wants some jambalaya?”

Niffty darted around Alastor, a big smile on her face. Despite resenting being ordered around by him, she still blushed whenever she got close to him. She skipped up to the hotel with the others, imagining what Alastor’s soft red and black hair would feel like in her dainty hands.

Niffty headed to the kitchen to prepare jambalaya for the group. She was used to making this New Orleans cuisine for Alastor several times a week when she was summoned. (It did get pretty boring in the fire.)

Niffty poured a tablespoon of oil in a frypan and then cut up slices of chicken and sausage. She removed the tails from shrimp and used another cutting board to chop green onions. Stirring in the tomatoes, meat, and vegetables, she added all the hot sauces: hot pepper, Cajun, and Worcestershire.

Finally, she added rice, chicken broth and the shrimp on top. Before long, she brought out five hot steaming plates for the group at the bar. Husk was drinking the remainder of his booze on his stool, still pouting at not being able to win his prizes. Vaggie looked around at the bar in disgust, clearly appalled that alcohol wasn’t going to be removed from the hotel. Angel Dust lounged on a pool table, drinking a Shirley Temple in a glass while sucking on a straw. Charlie was chatting with Vaggie about new plans for the hotel.

“Oh, this is exciting!” she smiled. “Now that we have a maid and a person to welcome the guests, I’d say things are looking even better.”

Husk scoffed. “Fuck that bullshit. Thanks to that talk show clown over there…” he mentioned to Alastor leaning smugly against a nearby wall… “…I’m stuck here doing a stupid charity job. If I had my bets, I’d say I’ll go insane spending several more hours here.”

“Oh don’t be such a sourpuss,” Charlie said. “Alastor said you’d make a great addition to the hotel.”

“Stuff your mockery, princess. You know how annoying and deceitful he is. I’d fare better being chased by hellhounds than being stuck here with him.”

“Just give him a chance, Husk,” Charlie said. “You’ll see that even the most sinful among us can be redeemed.”

Husk rolled his eyes. “With your singing and cheer? Good luck with that.”

Charlie glared at the cat demon, Vaggie holding her back.

“I, for, one, welcome our new Hazbin overlord,” Angel remarked, from the pool table. “He’s classy and has those cute furry ears…”

Vaggie stomped over to Angel and grabbed him by the collar. “Don’t let him hear you say that!” she hissed. “You’ll be vaporized in an instant.”

“Geez, calm your tits, Vag,” he replied, backing up and hopping off the table. “Though his eyes and smile are kinda creepy. I wonder how it would feel for him to make work of me with those claws of his…”

He sighed in content and sucked his straw again.

“Fuck you,” she spat in revulsion. “You have a messed up death wish.”

“You mean, a double death wish?” he asked with a laugh. “Double Hell, here I come!”

Vaggie growled and stormed back to the bar table.

Niffty came into the room, holding up the plates of food.

“Ah Niffty!” Alastor exclaimed, moving from the wall. “What perfect timing! Jambalaya, just how I like it.”

Niffty placed the plates in front of the five individuals. Another plate of dead voodoo looking rats appeared off to the side, Niffty eagerly gobbling them down, much to the shock of Vaggie, Angel, Charlie, and Husk. Alastor winked at her, causing the maid to blush, a rat tail hanging from her mouth. She slurped it up and ran off with a nervous giggle.

“Such a sweet little darling, isn’t she?” he mentioned. Charlie smiled nervously while the others remained silent.

“Well, dig in everybody! This food won’t eat itself. Unless you’d like me to demonstrate…”

He wiggled his fingers while Husk, Vaggie, and Charlie rapidly shook their heads.

“Aww, come on,” Angel murmured, almost to himself. “It’s been a while since I’ve watched vore…”

“I’m gonna be sick and I haven’t eaten yet,” Vaggie groaned. Husk, too, was picky about the mesh up of food in front of him. Charlie, and Angel, however, dug in in delight. Angel ate with four hands.

“Oh, Alastor! This stuff is marvelous,” Charlie exclaimed. “So spicy and full of flavor. I haven’t had spicy food like this in a while.”

Alastor laughed. “It’s my mother’s special recipe. She made it so well, it almost blew her straight into Hell. Ah, memories of times so swell. I figured you’d like it. A charming belle, eager to try new things.”

“Rhyming asshole,” Husk scoffed, staring at his empty green bottle.

Angel sat on a bar stool with his tongue hanging out, red from the heat of the sauces. His eyes were shining.

“Wha…what are you doing now?” Vaggie asked, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

“The tingling feeling of the heat, seeping into my taste buds. Fantastic. I’d love more of this from that musical strawberry pimp.”

“Angel!” Vaggie seethed under her breath.

Angel shrugged. “What? That’s what he looks like to me.”

Vaggie tentatively tried a taste of it, as if it were spiked with poison.

“Not too bad…” she began. Then the heat of the sauces kicked in.

She swore in Spanish under her breath then rushed off for some water.

Alastor was already almost finished with his meal. “It can be pretty intense for some people.”

Vaggie came back and glared at Alastor. “Are you trying to kill us?”

“Did you not hear what I said earlier, dear? If I wanted to hurt you all, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

“How do I know you won’t try to kill us in the future, huh?” she asked, pointing her weapon.

“You know it’s rude to have weapons present at dinner,” he added.

“What? You afraid of this or something?” she continued, holding it out.

“Vaggie!” Charlie called, lowering her friend’s arm. “There no need to get into a fight like this. Alastor’s been nice to us so far. At the very least, he’s trying his best.”

“Trying his best?!” Vaggie asked. “He’s nothing but a talk-show pervert lord.”

Charlie turned to Vaggie and thought for a moment. “Are you jealous that I danced with Alastor?”

“No!”

An awkward silence.

“We were just having fun,” Charlie said. “It was his way of livening things up for the Happy Hotel. You were more than welcome to join us.”

“I’d rather fall from grace again than dance with that son of a bitch.”

“Wait…” Angel Dust asked. “What do you mean by ‘falling again’?”

Vaggie paused. “None of your business!” she snapped.

Niffty sat in the corner, giggling at their confrontation. Oh how she loved seeing people embarrassed when their dark secrets and thoughts came out.

“You girls done?” Alastor asked. He wiped his mouth with a napkin.

“Yes,” Charlie said, taking a deep breath.

“I’m out,” Husk muttered, heading toward the back to search for more booze. After stumbling, he heaved and vomited the contents out. Then he groaned and promptly passed out on the floor.

Charlie gasped, hands covering her mouth. Angel stared in shock. Vaggie face-palmed with an “oh, no.” Alastor turned his head backwards to look at the giggling Niffty. He tilted his head and Niffty’s giggles fell flat. Without a word, she rushed over and helped Husk onto a nearby couch before cleaning up the mess.

“Well, that was a satisfying supper!” said Alastor breaking the silence. He got up and held out his arm to Charlie. “Now, how about you give me a tour of your hotel and I can provide you guys with some entertaining dad jokes?”

“How wonderful. I’d love that,” Charlie replied. She turned to Vaggie. “I just want to make sure that my friend is okay.” She looked at Vaggie with concern.

“I’m fine, Charlie,” she said with a sigh. Charlie looped her arm with Alastor’s and held out her hand to Vaggie. Reluctantly, Vaggie took it and the group headed off down the hall.

“Say,” Alastor said as they walked. “The graveyard’s getting overcrowded, don’t you think?”

“What?” asked Angel.

“What graveyard?” asked Vaggie, her eyebrows raised. She shuddered at the thought of Alastor posing in a graveyard of his murder victims.

“You know, the one where people are just dying to get in. Hahaha!”

“Oh, I get it! Good one, Al!” said Charlie.

“Ha ha,” Angel said with sarcasm. They arrived in a larger room with tables and a stage off to the side. Alastor turned to shadow, then materialized in front of the microphone.

“Uh, nobody asked for this,” Vaggie said. Charlie, Angel, Niffty, and Vaggie took their seats.

“Let’s just see how it goes,” said Charlie. “Jokes will surely remind demons of the good things in life.”

“Besides drugs?”

“Yes, Angel.”

“Besides dancing in the nude?”

“Yes, Angel.”

“Besides steamy sex?”

Charlie sighed in frustration as Angel laughed.

Alastor tapped the microphone. “Testing, testing, is this thing on?” The mic made a screeching sound that made the viewers cover their ears.

“Apologies for that,” he said. He chuckled and summoned a black tentacle from the ground. It tossed the metal microphone to the side before vanishing. His own vintage microphone appeared in front of him.

“Thankfully mine always works.”

“You ready?” Alastor asked, speaking into it. The microphone came to life, and the being inside it rolled his eye.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

He cleared his throat as a spotlight shone on him. “Did you hear about the guy who invented the knock-knock joke?”

“Yeah, what about him?” Angel asked in a bored voice.

“He won the no-bell prize! Ahhahaha!”

Charlie smiled. Niffty said “ha…ha…ha…” bored too.

“What did the buck say to his traveling doe? ‘Come home soon, dear.’”

“Yeah, you’d know all about deer, wouldn’t you?” Angel remarked. Charlie laughed, and even Vaggie let out a small smile.

“Hey, Charlie,” said Alastor.

“Yes?” she asked with a faint blush.

“Can February march?”

“I don’t know. Can it?”

“No, but April may!”

Charlie broke into fits of laughter.

“This is torture,” Vaggie said.

“Boo! Get off the stage!” Angel called.

“How many more jokes do we need?” asked Alastor.

“Zero!” booed Angel.

“Well, I was going to make a joke about paper, but no, it’s tear-ible!”

“Uh, god damn it,” Vaggie groaned. “I’m glad Husk doesn’t have to witness this.”

“What’s a demon’s favorite dessert?”

“Your mom!” yelled Angel.

“No, it’s actually devil’s food cake. Hahaha!”

Charlie giggled some more. “The hotel residents will love these!”

“Yeah, sure,” Niffty deadpanned, walking away.

“Hey Vaggie?” Alastor asked.

“What?!”

“Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?”

Vaggie’s eyes went wide, her face beet red. “Why…you…”

“Don’t worry, crawling up from Hell hurts like hell!”

“Why not have the best of both worlds?” Charlie asked. “I’d love to visit Heaven someday.”

“Foreshadowing…” Angel said in a stupor.

Niffty smiled sinisterly in a dark corner. Her plan was coming into motion.

#niffty #hazbin hotel

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devnine · 6 years ago

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How to Make a Spell

Magic is accomplished with spells: procedures using various methods to manipulate energy in order to accomplish a goal. Spells can be short and simple, long and complex, or anywhere in between-and can be very personal! I always relate magic to music: there are certain formulas and rules and facets that will always be present and will always be true, and should be followed and not violated to get the desired results; on the other hand, you can also add your own flavor to it, do whatever genre you want, even make your own brand-new one! It’s an art as much as a science.

That in mind, I’m going to go over some tips and pointers to make your own spells!

=General Rules=

Magic is accomplished best with the Five Cornerstones. Those being Energy, Focus, Will, Intent, and Visualization. Combine these together in every spell for the best results. (For more info, see: https://devnine.tumblr.com/post/175508445286/the-cornerstones-of-magic)

Use protection circles. Protection circles are boundaries of energy, barriers, that keep foreign energy out. Generally, you should always do magic in one in order to keep anything you don’t want out of your spell. (For more info, see: https://devnine.tumblr.com/post/174483396471/protection-circle-methods)

Cleanse everything. Before performing any spell, it’s almost always a good idea to cleanse everything you’re going to use to get rid of energy accumulated on it; this will keep unwanted energy from messing with what you’re trying to do.(For more info, see: https://devnine.tumblr.com/post/176266388086/cleansing-methods)

So, now that that’s all covered, let’s move on!

=How to Start=

So, you have an idea of what you’re doing; you know how to charge things, you know basic procedures, and you’re ready to do some magic. But the question is: what do you do?

Before anything, you should have a clear goal in mind for your spell. Do you want to protect yourself? If so, from what? Do you need extra insurance when travelling? Maybe you want to ace that job interview, or help bring positivity into your life.

Whatever you do, remember that magic is not miracle-working. It can only help. Don’t expect to be able to conjure a car or cure your disease; it might help you get a new car if you put effort towards it, it might be able to help relieve pain from that disease, but it’s not going to solve everything. And under no circumstances should it be used as a replacement for medical treatment.

Those statements made, let’s say you’ve figured out what you want to do with your spell. Awesome! That’s honestly a difficult step, sometimes, especially when you’re just starting out. Now, I’ll go into specific methods that will help you piece together exactly how you want to accomplish it.

=Energetic Materials=

Crystals, wood, and stones: the three materials you’ll see brought up and used most in magic. This is because they’re what I term energetic materials; this means that they’re good at conducting and holding spiritual energy. Everything holds at least some, but energetic materials are the best at it. If you need energy, look no further!

There are different properties to different materials; amethysts are different from clear quartz, and both are different from wood, and they’re all different than granite. Research and experiment, and pick the best type of material(s) for the job.

A Note About Blood: There’s a lot of controversy surrounding blood and its properties. Essentially, all it does is add tons of extra energy into a spell; draw a rune with it, coat a candle or crystal with it, whatever works. It will, however, also bind the spell to whoever the blood comes from, meaning it’s technically traceable back to that person. So, do be cautious.

=Runes and Sigils=

These are terms you’ll see mentioned a lot, but what exactly are they?

Simply put, sigils are like little packets of intent powered by energy; that intent can be released via additional energy input, such as fire, which sends out the spell to do its thing. It’s a very creative process, and I recommend looking into it, especially for beginners. Very simple, and very effective!

Runes, on the other hand, are like stable, permanent sigils; no matter what, they will always have a very powerful intention to them. All you have to do is draw or engrave them, charge them, and then do whatever you want with their power; clean, easy, and very potent! Runes can be placed or engraved wherever you want, and they’ll simply do what they’re made to do without further input. For instance, if you hang up a rune for protection over a door frame, it’ll help ward off any spiritual stuff trying to come through it. I find that Elder Futhark and Witches’ Runes work best.

=Elements=

A personal favorite of mine is the use of elements! I encourage you to look for yourself, but I’m sure you know the classical four: Water, Fire, Earth, and Air. They each do their own thing, and they add extra potency and direct intention to a spell, so you might want to include them if you feel like it’s appropriate to you and/or the spell.

=Incantations=

Many spells you’ll see will use incantations or chants, phrases and mantras which are designed to help with the spell. While they don’t have power in and of themselves, they do focus the mind on the task at hand and what exactly you want to do with the energy you’re using; if you feel like you need an incantation for your spell, make one that suits you, make one you like and connect with. Anything you like! I personally don’t even use them, though, so it’s all up to you what you want to do with them.

=Sound=

If music or just sound in general is your kind of thing, then you might want to incorporate it! It’s an energy all its own, and it can both set the mood and add a little something to your spell-or even be the entirety of it! The most prevalent use of it is in bell cleansing, something I encourage you to look up. (It’s my personal favorite method of cleansing.)

=Prayer=

Another thing to consider, if you like, is calling on spirits and/or deities to help you and grant you some of their power. I term this “prayer,” but I realize that might be sensitive to some, so call it whatever you like; just remember: it isn’t worship, it’s just asking a non-physical entity to give you their help. If you want to worship something, by all means! But you don’t have to to call on them and see if they answer (if you want).

=Alchemy=

Alchemy, herbology, potion-making-whatever you want to call it, it’s the practice of using natural materials to create magical substances and concoctions. Plants of all kinds have their properties, so research, test, be objective, and have fun!

A Note About Flavor: It might not be appetizing to make some potions, and that’s okay. Not every mixture is going to taste good; that doesn’t make it less effective.

=Enchanting=

Enchanting. You always hear in fairy tales about how witches go around enchanting brooms and apples, always hear in MMO games about how an item is enchanted with this or that-but what is an enchantment in real life?

Essentially, enchanting an item is giving it instructions, giving it a purpose. Programming it, you could say. For instance, I’ve personally enchanted a crystal to protect me by filling it with energy (so that it can accomplish the task) and “instructing” it to put a barrier around me that destroys energy attempting to come through. Enchanting is diverse and creative, and has several different methods. The method I’ll recommend, though, is magiforming, a post on which can be found here: https://devnine.tumblr.com/post/174620939906/a-primer-on-magiforming

A Note About Loose Spells: Spells which aren’t bound to an object by a method of enchanting, which I call “loose” spells, don’t last forever unless you recast them about every week.

Now that I’ve covered various parts and methods of spellcrafting, let’s take a look at what happens afterwards.

=What Should I Do Now?=

If you’ve just completed the spell, I recommend cleansing everything you’ve used again. (Except items that are supposed to have energy still in and on them, like anything you’ve enchanted.) After that, just clean up, rest, and wait for the spell to take effect!

=How Do I Know it Worked?=

Observation. Wait, watch, see what happens. Look for inexplicable coincidences, strange occurrences, etc. Be objective; don’t let your expectations or hopes cloud you from the reality of what’s actually happening. If there’s simply no other good explanation for why the thing you wanted to happen did, and it’s repeatable, then chances are it worked just fine.

=What if it Backfires?=

Chances are it won’t. You’d have to really screw up somehow, or cast something that runs up against protection that hurts you in return. Don’t be scared of magic; just be calm, be focused, have your goals firmly in mind, and there’s nothing at all to be worried about. Remember: magic at its core is just manipulating energy to achieve a goal.

---

And that’s everything! (That I can think of, anyway.) Good luck, happy spellcasting, and let me know if there are any questions!

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gomwriting · 6 years ago

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Date for hire, Jinyoung | Part 1.

Pairing: Jinyoung x Yumi (OC)

Type: One Shot / Fluff

Word count: 2227

Synopsis: Eunbyul helps Yumi out by hiring someone from the Date For Hire app to be Yumi’s date to a fashion event.

“Why would you do that!?” Yumi yelled as she jumped up to reach her friend’s phone.

Running away from her, Eunbyul yelled back, “Because you need a date and there’s no one eligible to take you to this event!!”

“I don’t need a date! I have you!!” Chasing her friend around the dining table, Yumi caught her breath as Eunbyul stopped momentarily, the both of them drained from running around their apartment.

“Look, I would love to go with you to this fancy private fashion event but Jaebum is finally finalising everything in his EP tonight remember?” Tilting her head sideways, Eunbyul continued, “You know I want to support him in every step of the way.”

Sighing, Yumi pulled out a chair and took a seat, glaring up at her friend as she said, “I hate that you know how much of a fangirl I am for your relationship.”

With a smile, her friend circled the table and draped herself over the smaller girl, “I hope you know I appreciate the support you have for us.”

Yumi could only scoff at her friend’s statement, unable to disagree with her truthful words. She pulled out the seat next to her and gave it a pat, indicating for Eunbyul to sit down. Taking it as a peace offering, her friend sat down and pulled out her phone, clicking on the Date For Hire app again.

“As I was saying before you rudely attempted to kill me, this Jinyoung guy seems really neat and fashionable so I think he’ll be perfect as a date to the event,” Yumi didn’t even bother looking over at her phone, already feeling defeated as her friend continued talking, “Now, I know you don’t want to see his face but I’ve already arranged for him to meet you at the carpark. I’ll send you his car plate number and the time he agreed to come so don’t worry about it.”

After glancing to check that Yumi was still paying attention, Eunbyul continued, “It says here that he’s studying to be a teacher so you know, he’s an all rounded educated man. It also says that he’s an introvert but he’s able to be just the right amount of polite extrovertedness for social events. How specific!”

Groaning, Yumi buried her head in her hands, her heart beating loudly at the fear of a stranger having to be her date for her first private event. Sensing her anxiety, Eunbyul rubbed her friend’s back, “I know you don’t want this but the invite did say to bring a date and this is the best solution I could come up for you as a friend without actually introducing a friend of mine that might potentially want to date you who has ‘no time’ for relationships.”

“Okay, you know what? I don’t care. I’ll just think of him as a really really new friend,” After choosing to sweep that concern under her imaginary mat, Yumi gave Eunbyul a small punch as she realised what her friend meant, slightly thankful that it was a stranger rather than anyone she knew. Feeling a little at ease, the girl thought of her next immediate problem, “So now, just help me find something to wear?”

With a relieved smile, Eunbyul answered, “Anything for you kid.”

Jinyoung leaned on his car as he waited, letting out a deep breath as he prepared himself for another full night out. He told himself that this was going to be his last night call in a few days, A straight four nights of being out not doing his body too well. Feeling a little light headed, he closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

“Uhm excuse me, are you Jinyoung?” Now, Jinyoung had seen plenty of beautiful woman during his time as a Date For Hire worker but he’s never been struck by a beauty as fast as he did with her. Her short sleeveless black dress fit her nicely in the correct places and it had some mesh material that made her midriff visible, the mesh coincidentally similar to the one on his own outfit. She had on fishnet tights and a pair of combat boots on, fitting the black but unique theme he was told about. Her makeup was simple and she had simple accessories on but what struck him was her smile. It was sweet and bright, conveying her nervousness instantly, something refreshing for him who was used to women who were always confident.

He stood up straight and noticed how he was almost a good 20cm taller than she was, shocking the small girl into taking a step back. Politely smiling, he started his duties, “Hello Yumi, my name is Jinyoung and I’ll be your date for tonight. I promise to treat you well and do as you wish - as long as it is within our guidelines.”

Yumi gave him a smile as he completed his introduction, unsure if she was supposed to clap for him or not but decided against it when he turned around to open the door of the passenger seat for her. He tilted his head towards the inside of the car and she climbed in, giving him a small, “Thank you.”

They both sat silently in the car for a while as Jinyoung started to drive. Quietly, Yumi was thinking about how Jinyoung was such an attractive man. She knew that the men working for the Date For Hire app were supposed to be smart and good looking but only now did she realise that they must have high standards for choosing their workers. Glancing at him as he drove, she admired his side profile in the dim lighting of the night.

“You can just ask me questions freely, don’t worry.” The corners of his mouth lifted as he spoke, his amused tone making Yumi feel warmth in her heart. He was still facing the road as he said this, making her think that he was quite a serious driver, the girl quickly and unexpectedly making assumptions about him.

“I just wanted to know what it takes to be a Date For Hire guy, that’s all.” He could hear the hint of playfulness in her voice and Jinyoung cursed in his head, gripping the wheel a little tighter at the sound of her soft laughing. He was surprised at his own reaction and made a mental note about how he shouldn’t get too attached, though this had never been a problem before. It was just a heart fluttering moment that could’ve happened with any other girl, he thought.

“Well, first we have to go through a grueling audition process at their headquarters where they strip us naked and inspect our beautiful bodies,” Injecting a dramatic tone as he spoke, Yumi realised how deep his voice was and she let out a small laugh, unable to believe that her heart was racing due to such a small thing. She gripped her black clutch bag and bit her lip, trying to contain the extreme warmth in her heart from showing.

“Anyway, could I ask why this event requires us to wear all black?” After realising that she didn’t continue the conversation, Jinyoung tried a different topic. Yumi hummed in thought as she properly pieced an answer together, Jinyoung annoyed how he thought even the sound of her humming was cute.

“Well, the designer wanted to go a step further to show his love for black outfits and clothes so he created the event to be in a white and clean backdrop, the contrast of everyone in black something he’ll be using as a means to show that love.” Thinking about it, Yumi admired how the designer was so passionate in creating the event specifically for him and the people in the business who have shown love for his creations through different mediums, Yumi being from the written medium albeit still relatively new to the fashion industry.

Jinyoung glanced over at Yumi as she went silent for a moment, realising how she had a thoughtful smile on her face and without realising it, he felt himself smile at the sight. Without warning, the girl turned to look at him and they made eye contact, something similar to shock visible in her eyes yet something else he couldn’t quite understand was hidden behind them. He cleared his throat and proceeded to face forward and continue driving, the ride silent but comfortable throughout.

Unexpectedly, there weren’t many people in the area of the event. Yumi had explained to Jinyoung that since it was more of a private event, there was no need for all the glitz and glamour, though there were some paparazzi who came anyway to try and snap some pictures of various celebrities who appeared. As she explained, she felt some kind of emotion overcome her being as she wanted to tell him more, like it was magic, “I write about the fashion events I attend for the magazine I work for.”

“So you’re a big deal huh?” As they were walking towards the venue, Jinyoung silently offered his hand to Yumi, the girl slipping her hand in his outstretched one, the warm enveloping feeling as he wrapped his fingers around hers sending tingles down her spine. He then brought her hand to wrap around his arm, giving her hand a pat with his free hand as they walked together.

Enjoying the feeling of having him so close to her, Yumi couldn’t help but want to tell him more than she should’ve, “Well, not really. The magazine I work for is experimenting with the inclusion of more in-depth fashion related articles and I’m told they see potential in me so that’s why they sent my supervisor and I to this event,” Without even thinking twice she added, “It’s honestly kind of nerve wrecking since my supervisor is into the more gossip side of the the fashion and entertainment scene so I’m afraid she might get me to do things I don’t want to do if she sees me later.”

By this time, they walked to the entrance and the bouncer requested Yumi to show her invitation and as the girl let go of Jinyoung to take out the letter from her bag, he placed his hand on the small of her back and pulled her slightly toward him when a group of people walked past them quickly, unaware of their surroundings while leaving the venue. Yumi turned to look at him for an explanation and she could felt herself grow red as he said in a low voice, “Sorry about that. They nearly hit you.”

Unable to respond, Yumi gave him a quick nod in reply before quickly digging her bag to find her invitation, showing it to bouncer who let them both in, the air conditioning in the venue cooling her down a little.

The music in the venue was slow but upbeat, contributing to the overall minimal vibe of the event. Jinyoung was amazed by the various styles in black around him and he would’ve been frozen in his position if Yumi didn’t gently tug on his sleeve to get him moving.

Surprisingly, Jinyoung continued their conversation, unable to think past how Yumi seemed to be taken advantage off at work, “Why don’t you just tell her you’re uncomfortable with doing that? I’m sure she would understand since she’s probably been in your position before.”

“When I confront someone it usually doesn’t end well, for them that is,” With a sheepish smile she continued, “I get a little overboard with what I say so I’d rather not do something risky like that especially if it’s related to work.

Taking it all in, Jinyoung nodded in understanding, letting out a small laugh as he said, “That’s probably the most confident you’ve sounded in yourself tonight.”

Letting out a laugh of her own, she looked him in the eyes as she said, lightheartedly, “I wish I had that confidence at work honestly.”

As Jinyoung gave her hand a pat of encouragement, Yumi realised that the both of them had naturally returned to their positions, her arm wrapped around his. Despite being embarrassed at the thought of being naturally physically close to him, a slight feeling of sadness struck her as she realised she would probably never have this with anyone else. Jinyoung was indeed hired to be her date but the fact that he helped her feel comfortable around him was too much of a bonus for Yumi to comprehend.

“So, do you see anyone you know yet?” After getting the feeling that Yumi’s mood dropped after her last statement, Jinyoung steered the conversation elsewhere as he looked around at the many people, making eye contact and smiling in greeting as they went about.

With a sigh, the girl said, “I haven’t seen anyone I know yet and I’m still kind of frightened at the sheer scale of this supposed small event so, uhm no, no one I know yet.”

Jinyoung could feel her holding him a little tighter and something rung in him like a bell, something telling him that he had to make her even more comfortable as he possibly could at all costs. It might’ve been his instinct as a date for hire but why did something that was supposed to be so familiar feel so foreign to him?

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thranduilsperkybutt · 6 years ago

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Ruby red nights (Part 2)

| Part 1 | Part 3 |

Imagine: Imagine Olivia and Elliot being turned into vampires and as their sire, you teach them how to live as creatures of the night. It gets hot and heavy one night as they give into their new urges and before long it turns into a threesome between you nightly.

Warnings: Trigger warning: Blood, Vampire AU

Pairing: Olivia Benson x Reader x Elliot Stabler

Word count: 1697 words

Universe: Vampire AU, Law and Order SVU

Reader gender: Female

Author: Ilariya_Lavoro writes

The sun was high in the sky sapping you dry, you could not leave your bed even if you dared to want to. The daylight was forced back, hiding behind the thick specially designed curtains that covered the large bay windows on the far wall of your bedroom but yet you could still feel the effects of those hellish rays.

The waves of purple silk covering the bare lower half were cooling but simply not enough. You longed for the sweet embrace of the dead man’s slumber but yet it did not come. You could not find the way into the magical, thoughtless moment to get through the long hours of sunshine. It was out of your reach in this one moment.

All you were left with were your thoughts and a lifetime of memories as you tried to get comfort for the endless hours that lay ahead. The sun would hang in the sky, taunting you until it too found its slumber beneath the horizon. Your night was humanity’s daytime. This had been a simple truth that your progeny had struggled to come to terms with. Yet you had found a coven of witches albeit reluctant at first, who were able to help once you paid their steep price in order to make your children happy.

This was your price, to lose your ability to find peace in dark delight of sleep once a week. This had been your choice to sacrifice one night of strength in exchange for the creation of enchanted daylight emblems. Simple jewellery which housed the powerful spell to protect them from the deadly power of the sun.

A signet ring emblazoned with your personal coat of arms and necklace with a pendant bearing the same sign, that the bearers were your children. Each item, the witches had further blessed with another simpler spell to prevent them from breaking. Your price had been a heavy one but it was a price that you would willingly make again, in a heartbeat.

Beads of sweat quickly gathered, drenched your brow but the smile upon your lips could not completely mask your agony, your pain. “It’s worth the mind numbing agony” You whispered, your voice hoarse and strained as you spoke through gritted teeth.

Registration, the formal ceremony that all fledgling vampires must go through. It was seen as a symbolic rite of passage where they would be simply introduced the wider community, entering into the coven that made up the area. It was never quite that simplicistic. Your mind wandered back to that moment.

This was not your first bite of the cherry. It had only been a few nights since your children had been fully turned but they need to be registered. The elders would not forgive you a second time. Last time, you had been a younger more volatile vampire. Anger and hatred were your poison of choice, turning your victim out of spite. That particular childe never forgave you, they never let you forget the choice you had made that night over four centuries ago.

It had been a terrible mistake, born from your own self hatred. In that moment you had become the person you despised above all others, your own sire. It had brought you back down to reality, as you had tried to repair the damage with your first childe. The tie between the two of you wasn’t as strained and tentative as it could of have been, yet Emma still accepted your support and friendship. Something you highly doubted she would have three centuries ago.

This time was different, Olivia and Elliot had been on the brink, dangling over the hungry jaws of death. They had weakly called out as the darkness crept into their vision. They wanted to live and you had chosen to heed their calls, answer their pleas for aid and snatch death’s latest flesh coated prize. You could of easily hastened their deaths, draining them dry and relishing in the taste of the heavenly elixir that was the lifeblood of humanity.

The elder’s nest had always been a place you actively tried to avoid when possible. There was a perpetual dark cloud that lingered in the atmosphere over the den. The home was far from welcoming, a heavy oppressive weighted upon your chest each and every time you found yourself within these walls.

You stood as a still as statue, shadowed by Olivia and Elliot in the entrance hall waiting to be seen. “Tell me, why are we here in the middle of the night?” Elliot asked, frustration rolled off each word in waves. You shook your head, your hair danced as you moved lightly tickling the back of your neck.

“All newborn vampire must be presented before the Area’s elder, to be registered and accounted for. This is part of our law to prevent chaos and discovery,” there was only truth held within your words, you were repeating your own sire’s words spoken a lifetime ago to you. A boredom lingered as you spoke the well versed paraphrase. It was one of the few memories of your sire that was not tainted by a cold rage. A rage that you could not let go of.

“You are both part of this world. Dancing between the realms life and death to preserve the balance” You locked your gaze first with Olivia then turning your attention to Elliot, trying to read the emotion reflected within their eyes. Elliot was far easier to read out of your pair of children. The annoyance at the stiff and stuffy rigmarole grated at his already short nerves.

“Elder Cruz will see you now” Those few words were enough to make you ever so slightly nervous. Annalise Cruz had taken over control of Area 46 in the late 18th century after a turf war had render the previous elder obsolete and needing to be removed, piece by piece. They had ended up in several piece spread across the miles, Cruz had been judge, jury and executioner of Vampiric Law down to the letter. She was not to be messed with.

You lightly nodded, conveying respect as you began to move with Elliot and Olivia in tow. The last time that you had presented yourself before Elder Cruz had been over forty five years prior to this night. It had been a simple check in of sorts, updating your status within the area and play at the dalliance of court that the nest provided. You were a minor player that lingered in the back. You were of no real importance to the Elder or her inner circle but still you were expected to show face ever decade or two.

With your head held high, your feet quickly lead you down the winding corridor before passing through the open archway. Your gaze shifted right then left, taking in various vampires dotted about the room before you. You took in each individual in the vast space, some faces more familiar than others before you found the elder.

She stood in the center of the room, at first glance most would believe to her to nothing more than a child barely into her teenage years. Her youthful appearance was nothing short of a deception; she was well over eight hundred years old, turned only a handful of days after her twelfth birthday.

Olivia followed your gaze, shocked by the very sight of a child-like immortal but you cut in before she could voice her honest opinion. “There are more vampires like her, in days gone by, children were considered the easiest of preys. Our kin knew humanity would always continue to breed and in times of famine, war and chaos most would not notice a few children simply disappearing,” your words were matter of fact, you had only expressed a statement of truth on how some vampire chose their feeds.

“It is one of the reasons, the law evolved and changed to prevent such barbaric feeding frenzy for continuing,” you could feel the anger in Elliot rising once more and the disgust within Olivia.

You smiled softly at your children, brushing the back of your palm down his face trying your best to calm the rage. “History is there is teach us to be better than those who came before”

“Your sire speaks the truth, such distasteful turning are now explicitly forbidden in all areas of this great nation. It is punishable by death, youngling.”

Elder Cruz’s words that night had burnt into both of their memories, it had been a great relief to them both. The progressive nature of the ruling Elder calmed the tension that had begun to ralt at their moral compass. Their humanity would in theory remain intact for now at the very least with the knowledge that the old ways were no more within the very borders that they resided in.

You turned to face the older vampire before bowing your head in greeting, out of respect for the rules, “Good evening, Elder, these are my children, Olivia and Elliot.” You gestured your hand from one to the other. Your voice remained calm, methodical, showing prior experience from many years before, going through this with your last Childe.

Elder Cruz’s gaze took in each one carefully, examining them from head down to their toes before a smile broke across her lips, showing her childish glee briefly. “Indeed my friend, I welcome thee to the night. We are now kindred but be wary, I do not hold those who defy the sacred laws without contempt and punishment” The threat was far from subtle, this was her way. She was not one to mince her words even in polite conversation.

Annalise Cruz’s attention and focus turned back to you. Her smile still remained but the warmth that been there moments before had now vanished, leaving a hollow, falseness behind in its place. “Walk with me my friend, we have much to catch up on. Your children will be fine without their sire for but a moment”

You quickly nodded, recognising the intent behind the words. This was no mere invitation, but a command to begin the final part of Olivia’s and Elliot’s registration.

To be continued

#submission #submitted fanfic #fanfiction #olivia benson fanfic #elliot stabler fanfic #law and order svu fanfic #newstuff female reader insert #law and order svu female reader insert #author ilariya lavoro #au fanfic

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higheverweave · 7 years ago

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Mage shade Squad

By:Varric Thetras

@ladylike-foxes

It wasn’t much Dorian expected most orlesian events to be well...underwhelming compared to those in Tevinter however what neither he nor Vivian knew was that the party would be and I quote more bland than the cheap stale crackers served in Redcliffe. Dorians words not mine so don’t hit the dwarf. Anyway Dorian was as any well known Parrish would be at a social event you see Dorian was posing in order to get people to flock to him. He was used to the way their breaths would hitch as he told them of his exploits. Luckily for him Cullen was not present at this party or well he might have to compete. Not that Dorian would mind seeing the Commanders hindquarters as he ran away from Orlesian noblewomen. Dorian however also liked to hold attention as a mage he loved to conduct the audiences reactions. Like a mage with a wand he moved his hands to emphasize his points when he wanted to make part of the story sad he discuss his homeland ,his family ,and Alexius. When he wanted adoration he would tell of time magic or his travels with the inquisition and his movement in Tevinter. Of course as he was Dorian there would always be a snide remark or an undercutting joke. Currently the joke he was making was in regards to half the Orlesian nobleman having hats that made it looks as if they where hiding ogre horns. As for what he said about the hats He said if he wanted that many feathers he would ask the Hero of Ferelden to find a griffin. This is where things get interesting. See Orlais was Vivienne's domain. Vivienne was a smart and strong woman and she knew it. She exuded confidence and even when she designed to glare in disapproval you could feel the power and poise she wielded. Let’s just say Hawke help m glad Iwhoever gets on that woman’s bad side.She sauntered up to Dorian and rolled her eyes. “Darling if you wanted to see an Orlesian party you could have asked me. No matter I’m a circle mage and I’m going to give you a lesson in magic by working mine on this....” Vivienne tried to find a diplomatic word.

“You can’t even call it a party can you ? As a scary evil necromancer who ran away from the empirium I say we we do this event a favor and Commandeer it maybe teach half the people here how dress.” Dorian. Vivienne smiled in complete agreement with Dorian or the first time in what seemed like forever.

A smile crept up her flawless skin and she drawled out a sophisticated. “Way ahead of you darling.” As she snapped her fingers. Remember that thing I said about Vivienne earlier..... it comes in to play right about now ,because somehow Vivienne has used her influence over the Orlesians to get

1.)A large high Caliber Quality of wine produced only in Emprise de lion.

2.) Philiam the bard who had a mutual friend of Viviennes. Let’s just say neither one wanted Philiam to become a Templar.

3.) The most renowned seamstress in Orlais as well as some examples of their work.

Dorian stood there in awe for a second as various people scurried in with things. The clamor of the court buzzing with talk of the Magisterium,Vivienne,the inquisition and of course my latest book. Dorian looked at the fabrics and clothes the seamstress had brought in grabbed a glass of the Emprise de lion wine the servants had offered and imagined buying and wearing every single one looking them up and Down carefully almost as if his eyes were devouring them.... of course that’s usually just Dorian’s expression when he thinks of himself as well. Dorian turned to Vivienne raised his glass and toasted her.

“Now this is a party.” He sipped with a mischievous grin on his face.

“No my dear this is an ORLESIAN COURT party.”

The glasses clinked as they both genuinely enjoy the others company for the first time

#varric tethras #dragon age trespasser #dragon age short #Orlais #Orlesian court #first enchanter vivienne #vivienne #vivienne de fer #dorian dragon age #dorian pavus #dorian #mage #mage shade squad

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wanderlustwonderlots · 6 years ago

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Paris - Day 4 (Giverny)

Today wasn’t really a Paris day, but in fact a day trip to Vernon/Giverny, to see Monet’s gardens! I did this on my last full day in France on my last trip, but I actually never blogged about it, because I was exhausted after arriving back from my trip and never got around to it. Not to worry, I’ll wax on about this year’s trip here!

It was a slightly early rise and a quick trip to the train station to catch the train to Vernon, about an hour and a half ride. Had we missed this we would have been in trouble, with only one train in the morning and one in the evening! We got there with time to spare but it was a very full train so ended up not sitting all together. I spent the ride writing up my last blog post on my phone, so it was time well spent. I suppose I could have been looking out at the scenery, but I’d already done the ride once before and landscapes are just landscapes after a while. Since I was well occupied, the ride flew by and soon enough we were in Vernon. Right after walking out of the train station we came upon the “Petit Train de Giverny,” an adorable little car with multiple segments done up to look like a tiny train. We could have taken the bus from Vernon to Giverny, which takes the same time and is only a few euros more expensive, but I knew the petit train! I took it two years ago and it was so funny and cute so I had been talking it up to my parents. We got our tickets, hopped on, and drove past the line of suckers waiting for the shuttle bus. The petit train takes you through the town of Vernon, and there’s an audio tour broadcasted through the cars that tells you about the history and significance of the town. I couldn’t tell you much about it because a lot of the time historical information flies right out of my head, but it was a town tossed back and forth between the English and the French during various wars, it had a beautiful cathedral and remnants of an old mill and castle. The guide also of course had lots to say about the artists that loved Vernon and nearby Giverny.

It was an overcast morning and I was most definitely not dressed for the weather so I was mighty chilly on the ride over (in just a t-shirt and skirt), but shortly after we arrived in Giverny, 20 minutes later, blue skies had begun to start appearing. Our plan was thus to start with the Musée des Impressionnismes and after that move on to Monet’s gardens, hoping that it would be sunny by then. We walked up through the town and were greeted by gorgeous hedged gardens outside the museum. As I read on a sign later, the gardens were actually designed by an architect, I believe the same one that designed the museum, though I could be mistaken. Designed in 1991, the gardens are arranged by monochromatic plots, retaining their colour schemes throughout various blooming seasons. One of the gardens was entirely herbs and aromatic plants, including thyme, basil, chives, mint, basil, rhubarb, greens, you name it! We could run our hands through the plants and smell them after to take in all the different herbs. It was nice to already be surrounded by nature, just walking around the town. Even the residents’ small gardens, rose trees, and flowers lining the streets were beautiful.

In the museum was an exhibit on Japanese-inspired impressionism, showing pieces of Japanese art such as prints, sketches, and paintings that inspired French impressionists, as well as their works that followed these “exotic” styles. As much as I love impressionism, I don’t know much about its history, so had no idea that Japanese art was such a big influence on some of my favourite painters - Monet, Van Gogh, Caillbotte, Pissarro, Degas, to name a few. I just find the style to be so enrapturing. Seeing this side of French Impressionist history was really interesting.

At the end of the museum was a special exposition on Hiramatsu Reiji, a Japanese artist who was in turn inspired by Monet’s paintings and his water garden. He saw Monet’s art in a museum in Paris and decided to plan a trip around the countryside that Monet painted so much. The pieces in this exposition were of the water lilies, through a definite Japanese eye. I thought it was fascinating to see the inspiration come full circle, and Hiramatsu’s work was stunning, with so many bright colours and patterns, and vibrant, shiny golds.

Leaving the museum we finished exploring the surrounding gardens and headed down the picturesque road to Monet’s property. Thankfully at the museum we had bought a combined ticket and were able to skip the long, long line to get into Monet’s. Th town and its tourist points were SO much more crowded than the last time I was there! Granted, I had gone in mid-August, and this had turned out to be a beautiful sunny day in May on a long weekend, so people had come from all over. To be honest, the crowds spoiled the experience slightly, but I really can’t complain even a little bit when I’m in one of my favourite places that I’ve ever been to. Besides, the more people that get to experience the magic of the place, the better.

We started with the water gardens. It was too early to see all of the water lilies, though I think we found 3 total that had bloomed! Last time I was too late, and this time too early, so I’ll just have to come a third time to catch them. The lily pads were still just as amazing to see, strewn across the pond in their little floral flotillas. I got to explore the surrounding gardens like they were new to me because so many different flowers and trees were in bloom. There were explosions of colour everywhere, making every ten steps a new scene of smells and sights. I took so many photos and still nothing can come close to showing how calm and enchanting the waterscapes and landscapes are. Pinks and purples and reds around every bend, wisteria like streamers overhead, tall bamboo rustling and clacking together, foxglove and lupins vibrant among other flowers, lush greens brushing against your legs, willows so long and graceful, blowing in the breeze and nearly skimming the pond. And amidst it all, birdsong carrying over the hum of people, a reminder that this spot is a celebration of nature herself.

Being in this place makes me so happy that I could cry. Seeing what Monet envisioned, brought to life, and then painted gave me goosebumps and put the most serene smile on my face. I took my sweet time despite the constant stream of people going through the gardens as well, and spent as long as I wanted to taking it all in, looking at all of the blooms and the bees working hard to pollinate them. I’ll be damned if I’m going to be rushed through this. After we felt we had experienced the water gardens to the fullest, we crossed back over to the gardens outside Monet’s cottage.

The most striking thing about these gardens was the amount of irises they contained. So many different varieties, each seeming to smell sweeter than the last. A deep, silky purple that was near black; pale blue with a dark stripe down the middle of each petal; sunny yellow so joyful; pure white, and white with rich purple petals; soft lavender. There were also more types of poppies than I have ever seen! My mom was so happy to see both of these abundances of flowers, two of her favourites. The many different roses added even more sweetness to the air. All the colours and smells in the hot, early summer air could almost transport me away from the throngs of people around me. These gardens are so well cultivated and maintained, and I have a lot of respect for the groundskeepers that make this place the slice of paradise that it is. I really consider myself blessed to be able to come here twice now, and feel completely content, absolutely full of wonder. I don’t know that anything will ever compare to how I feel when I’m in these gardens. Maybe that sounds like an overstatement, but it’s true. I hope that the way I write about it helps to convey exactly how dreamy the gardens are, and how much they mean to me.

We decided not to go into Monet’s cottage, as the line was extremely long, and we wanted to have lunch before making our way back to the petit train and Vernon. There was only one train to Paris, so we absolutely had to make it. The benches around the core part of the town were in high demand and we wanted a shady spot for lunch, so we settled on some grass beneath a nice thicket of trees to eat the baguette and cheese we packed. We had some fruit earlier in the day, after the museum, but this was a much needed respite from the people to sit down in the shade and recharge. A bird was watching us for most of our little lunch, and my mom kept tossing it tiny morsels of bread and cheese so it could join us. I know, not the best thing to do, but it was so cute and came so close to us! We finished our lunch with the bird, packed up, and headed back to wait for the petit train.

The trip back to Vernon was a bit stressful because we were damn close to the train’s departure, and both the petit train and the big train back to Paris were packed full, but we made it. After getting into Paris we picked up some ravioli and salad to have for dinner at home, to which we invited Etienne. It was a lovely supper at home after having a lot of meals out, which I appreciated. We had a nice red wine to drink, along with a crisp cider, and a few beers to finish. Quite the lushes! Mostly we were trying to finish everything we had in the fridge before our departure to the south of France. In any case, it ended up being a great evening, concluded with a board game of course. We said goodbye to Etienne until next weekend (when he’ll kindly pick us up from the train station in Dijon to go to his parents’ house), and packed up our things for our flight the next day.

It was a wonderful day to wrap up our short time in Paris, and another experience I won’t forget. I hope you enjoyed reading about today’s adventure, and got a glimpse into how I feel about nature and about Monet. Next up is the south of France!

#france 2018 #may 20 #france #europe #giverny #monet #gardens #flowers #travel #travel blog #travelog #travel tumblr

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adlegend21 · 7 years ago

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Dalish Sera and how awesome it would’ve been.

Disclaimer: I love Sera, she’s one of the sweetest romances in DAI and I bring her everywhere on every Inquisitor.

That said, I think it would’ve been a great thing if Sera had been a Dalish elf, with the intention of showing a POSITIVE light on the Dalish for a change. So here’s my meta for the concept of Sera Lavellan.

For starters, she’s brown like her concept art, and maybe she’s got a Mythal design for her face tattoos, maybe in a shade of green. She’s a hunter from Clan Lavellan who, like in the Lavellan origin, sent her to spy on the conclave.

Sera’s there even if Inquisitor Lavellan is chosen by the player in which there’s some unique dialogue of her staying there to make sure the shem didn’t do anything funny to Lavellan while they were unconscious. For non-lavellan Inquisitors, she’s fighting with Solas and Varric and Varric stays behind after his intro and you meet him back at Haven.

Sera provides the exposition for Clan Lavellan, they were near Kirkwall after Anders blew the chantry and they fought bandits, rogue Templars searching for mages, and eventually made their way to the conclave because of how important it was and that’s why Sera (and Inquisitor Lavellan) are there.

Also Sera’s still a lesbian only love interest, not changing that, don’t need to, but she’s still good friends with male Lavellan’s, even more so if they’re a rogue because they were a team of hunters.

She and Cassandra don’t get along because she feels Cassandra is too keen to make The Herald of Andraste a thing (even more hostile if Lavellan) and pushes for Lavellan to be called The Herald of Mythal (hue hue hue for later in the game) in banter.

She and Solas don’t really get along either because it shows how he feels pity for the Dalish due to his “studies of the fade” but eventually with some input from the Inquisitor in banter and conversations with Solas they can become amicable.

Her beef with Vivienne is mostly due to her being a court member of Orlais and how she doesn’t use her power to help as many people as she can despite being a mage and she counters Vivienne’s dismissive opinions on anti-circle rhetoric, openly chastising her for saying Dalish ship off mages into the wild if they have too many, DOUBLEY SO for Mage Lavellan’s saying how revered and respected mages are in Dalish culture and how she should really broaden her horizons when it comes to magic instead of being so defensive of the chantry rhetoric.

Sera is a big proponent of Clan Lavellan’s actions of helping people. They helped people in the free marches, they helped people in Northern Ferelden, and she’s staying with the Inquisition to help people (even if Lavellan isn’t there) and that leads into the mission IN WYCOME that's set up on the war table where (stop the purging of Wycome's elves) becomes the playable mission.

In the Fade the Nightmare preys on her fear of losing her clan saying something along the lines of “Your clan is weak without you Sera (and Inquisitor Lavellan) how do you know they will be there when you return for them?” and her tombstone is “losing her culture to humans”

For Wicked Eyes and Wicked hearts, if she’s brought she’s announced as “Sera Lavellan, Master Hunter of The Dalish Clan Lavellan” if you complete the Wycome mission before she’s announced as “Sera Lavellan, Master Hunter of Dalish Clan Lavellan of Wycome” and the Nobles comment on her status in ambient dialogue. She also mentions Leliana personally giving her pointers on the game so she doesn’t let her hatred of the Nobles get in the way of the mission. She GREATLY APPROVES of having Briala control Gaspard and mentions to Briala that she has the support of Clan Lavellan for non-Lavellan Inquisitors and for Lavellan’s she has a war table quest to forge an alliance with Briala’s people and Clan Lavellan.

And of course, What Pride had Wrought, she and Morrigan clash because, even as a Hunter, Sera has incredible knowledge of Mythal and her practices, often talking over Morrigan to explain things to non-Lavellan inquisitors, and shifting the conversation to Lavellan saying the exposition.

When it comes down to the well decision (she approves of sparing Calpernia by telling her of Corypheus’ plot btw and killing Samson) she actually is a choice if she’s in the party. Her vallaslin is for Mythal and she feels that the well belongs to the Dalish. She greatly disapproves if a Trevelyan takes it but the post-mission conversation can be used to get some approval back and she just disapproves of Morrigan takes it. She Greatly approves of Lavellan taking it and is neutral on Cadash and Adaar.

If Sera takes it then she’s the one who mentions Morrigan and Keiran going into the Eluvian so she’s present at that Mythal reveal, if Morrigan is alone she’s a require companion on going to the reveal and naturally she is over the moon to meet FleMythal who says she (and Inquisitor Lavellan) “Do the People proud and have come far” making her the happiest Elf this side of Thedas to have the approval of one of the creators.

For Trevelyan’s they can explain to Sera why they chose to take the well and regain some approval, mages have an easier time because they can say that the Well’s knowledge will be used to help mages throughout Thedas and Sera will be okay with it.

Sera’s cutscene conversations show her kinder side and her ambient dialogue shows that she gets along with the elven members of the Inquisition really well, some were even rescued by her in the chaos.

Her romance is flipped and it’s easiest to romance her with Lavellan’s as they’ve got history together as opposed to it being the hardest. The Hardest romance path is Trevelyan because of Sera’s grudges against human nobles, less so for Mage Trevelyan’s because she’s aware of the plight of circle mages. Adaar’s are still easy because she saw a few female qunari in the free marches and still goes “woof” for them. Trevelyan gets a special conversation where Sera wants to know if they really love her or if she’s just an elf they want to have sex with and Trevelyan can soothe her fears on that in the conversation as well.

She is also the ONLY person with a quest post-Corypheus defeat where, with high approval, or a Lavellan, you get to meet the Clan in a social space like Val Royeux when Wycome is saved as opposed to the earlier quest to save it.

If Sera is not romanced by The Inquisitor she has a few things that happen. She flirts with Cassandra in banter after Haven but gets shot down. In Ambient dialogue from Leliana, her agents let on about Sera having a crush on her to which Leliana shoots her down if romanced in DAO and if not then she’s on the fence about it before Sera gives up. Dagna mentions getting a gift from Sera to welcome her to the Inquisition. Josephine even visits Sera while the two have tea together in the tavern and go on a date if neither is romanced but nothing comes of it. Ultimately if unromanced Sera and Charter become an item in Trespasser.

Speaking of DLC’s Sera is amazed at Ameridan being an Elven Mage and she has dialogue where she asks him questions to get his exposition. The post story convo with The Professor auto selects revealing that Ameridan was an Elven mage if Sera is present because she won’t allow you to lie about him being a human noble (why would you anyway???)

She also talks about dealing with Darkspawn during The Descent in her travels with Clan Lavellan, even having a funny story about doing so with Inquisitor Lavellan.

Also, Tempest Specialization is revealed to be Elven in origin, something she learned from the Keeper and the NPC for the specialization is another Elf from her Clan Lavellan (that makes THREE) and Sera approves of Cadash, Adaar, and Lavellan’s taking it, but is neutral on Trevelyan’s depending on her approval with them.

Sera is IMPOSSIBLE to remove from the Inquisition. She will not leave because the Dalish need her as a voice for change in the world and you cannot tell her to leave. Her disapproval scene is her chastising you (gotta screw over the dalish clan in the exalted plains, get clan lavellan destroyed, take the well and tell her off as Trevelyan, conscript the mages, and banish Briala and keep Celene on the throne or something along those lines) and saying that after you defeat Corypheus that she hopes the dread wolf takes you. speaking of the dread wolf.

Sera has a crisis during Tresspaser. When it's found out about the Evanuris being mages that held slaves and warred upon each other and that Fen’Harel punished them, she doesn’t know what to do about it. It calls into question everything the Keeper taught her, but after the initial shock, she wants to know more. She’s furious after going to the library because of the last words of the Elves you hear when the world falls apart because the fade is beyond the veil, and she wants all the answers behind everything that happened and Lavellan can agree with her on that.

This changes Trespasser just a bit because Solas welcomes the entire party you bring with you to the final conversation with various pieces of input. He reveals that he is Fen’harel, the Dread Wolf, and Sera is stunned. The Dread Wolf was around her the entire time and she didn’t know, but Solas says it’s by design. He feared her wrath and wanted to help, and after meeting mythal he commends both Inquisitor Lavellan and Sera because they changed his opinion of the dalish from when he woke up. He still has the goal of returning the world to its previous state and to everyone’s surprise Sera agrees with him and takes the option from the Inquisitors response to agree with him, though he denies her because he sees the anger in her desire to join him and he takes no pleasure in what must be done whereas she might. He takes the Anchor from the Inquisitor and tells the party not to follow (he also give you back your gear) and you return to make your decision of the Inquisition’s fate.

Sera’s epilogue slides have her return to clan Lavellan with the news of fen’Harel’s return and the truth about the elven gods and it leads to the first major meeting of Dalish Clans across Thedas so that they as The People can decide what to do going forward.

So that was a long piece of writing and I may make some addendums down the line, but so far, that’s how I would have done Dalish Sera

#Dragon Age #Dragon Age Inquisition #Sera #meta #Dragon Age Critical

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undertale-rho · 4 years ago

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Underearth: Book 4 - Chapter 19

Further down the path, Frisk approached the Judgement Hall. The beginning of the end.

Stepping over the threshold, there was a sudden clap of sound followed up by complete darkness, a glow of gold, and a collapse back into the Judgement Hall.

Frisk looked around, spotting his corpse lying on the ground with no head, and a massive blood splatter just above, surrounding a sizable hole in the wall.

"So, that's why there's been no LOADs this time around." Frisk heard a composed voice say further in the hall.

Looking to the source of the voice, he saw a shadowy figure kneeling on the ground holding a long device of some kind. When the figure stood up, he identified the device to be a rifle.

"I know it's anti-material, but it works very well on people nonetheless." the figure said.

"Who are you?" Frisk asked.

The figure gave a chuckle, placing the rifle on the ground and kicking it aside. "I am nobody. Just a simple man trying to live a quiet life."

The figure started walking towards Frisk. In turn, Frisk did the same.

"If you just want to live a quiet life, why'd you just shoot me?" Frisk asked.

"I didn't much appreciate you killing all my friends and family." the figure answered.

The two stopped moving when there was six feet between them. Though the light, Frisk got a clearer look at the figure. He was Human. No outcrops, no excess calcification, no rotting flesh. A full, flesh-and-blood Human with wild brown hair, piercing green-grey eyes, and fair skin. A Human who wore stock blue jeans, a plain white tee-shirt, and dark-brown leather boots.

"I haven't killed any Humans." Frisk said.

"What makes you think I'm actually Human?" the figure asked.

"If you're not Human, why do you look exactly like one?"

"Why did Serif and Charon look greatly Human?"

Frisk thought about this. Why did they look Human for the most part? Focusing back on the figure, Frisk asked his next question.

"If you're not Human, what are you?"

The figure gave a quiet "heh" to the question. "I guess you could say that I'm caught somewhere in-between."

"What do you mean?"

"My genetic code contains both Human and Monster DNA. So do my brothers, but not to the degree of my own."

"How? Did one of the past Humans—"

"No. It was done through a process strikingly similar to cloning."

"Why? To what end?"

A smirk emerged on the figure's lips. "Have you ever wondered why Monsters are so weak? Why they can be killed with such ease? My creation was an attempt to make this not so. It all lies within the SOUL. Most Monster SOULs are a thousandth of the strength to that of a Human SOUL. Few Monsters are exceptions to this, such as Asgore, Toriel, Grillby, Serif, Charon, and so on, having only a hundredth of the strength rather than a thousandth.

"Papyrus is like any other Monster, having a thousandth of the substance and energy to that of Humans. Sans, however, has the strength of a Human's SOUL in terms of energy, though his substance is lacking. I suffer no such detriment, having Human-levels of both substance and energy."

"What does substance and energy have to do with anything?" Frisk asked.

"Everything. Though my 'father' and brothers are Monsters, slay me and my SOUL will persist like that of Humans. Fight me, and I will not exhaust so easily."

"Who are you?" Frisk asked again.

"I have already answered that question. I am nobody. A simple shadow in the background, eternally observing."

"I mean what's your name."

The figure broke into a full smile at that point. "My name is Calibri Gaster. In case you haven't guessed it by now, Sans Gaster and Papyrus Gaster are the brothers I spoke of."

"And, by what you have said, you would be the strongest entity in the Underground?" Frisk asked.

Calibri tilted his head a bit. "From a purely numbers perspective, you could look at it that way, yes."

Frisk's spirits rose in that instance. Here he was, face-to-face with the one he was told to seek.

"Then please, help me." Frisk said.

Calibri stepped back, aghast at Frisk's request.

"Why the hell should I help you?" he asked.

"Because it's in your best interests too. I'm not saying help me kill everybody, I'm saying help me stop the thing that's actually doing it!"

"You mean the LOV inside you? You're the one who wanted it to grow in the first place, don't try this innocent crap."

"No, I mean Chara. She took the LOV I had and is planning to use it to destroy all of Humanity."

Calibri started laughing. Frisk's hope began to drain at this sight.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"You..." Calibri worked out through the laughter. "You honestly expect me to believe that story? What the hell do you take me for, a complete idiot? Chara has been dead for six hundred years. Her SOUL was absorbed by Asriel and was never found after he died. Chara is long dead, with no chance of returning."

"Please, you must believe me!" Frisk pleaded.

"Enough! I've had enough of your games. You and Flowey are no different. Seeing as he probably tried to kill you, I'd say he's dead, though that could've easily been a ploy to make me drop my guard around that bloody flower. Whatever. Doesn't matter anyway."

Calibri reached behind him and pulled out an empty canister, placing it by a pillar. "I hope you don't mind," he said, "but I'm gonna kill you and take your SOUL to Asgore so that the few remaining Monsters can finally leave this place. Don't mind the SOUL jar. Oh, and if you would be so kind, don’t return after I kill you."

Stepping back towards Frisk, Calibri's eyes glowed red. A black cloth-like substance began to form over his entire body, with shaped pieces of bone appearing around him and attaching themselves to various places until his entire body was armored, save his head. His chest, which was covered in a breastplate that looked like a shield with ribs coming out the side and around, featured a heart-shaped hole in it which began glowing a dim red. Over his head, a skull-like structure with two tall horns appeared. Once fully encased, the eyeholes of the skull flashed red before returning to being black.

In his next steps, Calibri summoned a blade of simple design and two more massive skulls of similar design to his helmet.

"Approach, Frisk." Calibri said.

Nervously, Frisk drew the dagger from its scabbard. The two then began circling one another, each one waiting for the other to strike first. As Frisk watched Calibri, he noticed that small glowing orbs were forming and growing in size within the skulls situated on either side of Calibri, and the light within the heart-shaped hole in Calibri's chest piece was growing in brightness.

As the two continued to circle, Calibri raised one of his arms, pointing it at Frisk. At the same time, one of the skulls behind his opened its maw and fired a beam of red energy. Upon striking Frisk, the Human simply collapsed to the ground. As the corpse lay there, a tiny golden orb formed above it, and every part of his body was sucked into it.

Behind Calibri, a larger golden orb appeared, collapsing to reveal Frisk within. Calibri turned to face his foe.

"Give up." he said. "You won't beat me. Give up so the remaining Monsters can at least be free."

"I can't do that." Frisk retorted. "If I give up, Humanity will be destroyed."

"By what? Chara? She's dead, and you're a liar."

"I'm telling the truth!"

"And I'm done talking." Calibri had the other skull fire its beam, engulfing Frisk in another flare of energy.

Frisk charged Calibri from the golden orb as it respawned him, drawing the revolver on the way and firing a few shots at the creature. One shot landed in an upper spike of his left shoulder-pad, while another landed in his gut, and another in his leg. As Frisk closed the last of the distance, Calibri raised one of his arms and placed his palm on Frisk's chest. When he did this, a beam of energy erupted from a point on his palm and shot through Frisk.

"How many of those things do you have?" Frisk asked after he respawned.

"Enough. The fission beam is a perfect anti-Human weapon, capable of eviscerating a Human SOUL in a fraction of a second. While yes, if I wanted your SOUL it'd be stupid to use them. With you, it'd be even more stupid to avoid using them."

Frisk drew the revolver again and charged Calibri, firing rounds as he did so. Seeing the rounds, Calibri brought up his sword to deflect them, but was surprised to see the first shoot right through the blade. Seeing his tactic foiled, he dispelled the holey sword and nimbly dodged the rest of the projectiles.

When the bullets had passed, Frisk put the revolver back into its holster and drew the knife. Flipping it around, grabbing it by its square blade, he then threw the knife at Calibri. Seeing the knife hurling towards him, he simply stepped to the side and avoided it completely.

Frisk smirked when he did this, his eyes now glowing blue. Calibri, coming to a realization, felt a pain suddenly sink into his back. This pain continued through his back until a knife-blade emerged from his chest, continuing through until the dagger freed itself, leaving a gaping hole behind.

"Got ya!" Frisk said, catching the dagger out of the air.

"Did you now?" Calibri asked, his eyes glowing red as the hole in his chest closed and was re-armored.

What the hell? Frisk thought.

Not sure what to do next, Frisk used gravity magic to grab hold of Calibri himself and shoot him up into the air. Once near the ceiling of the Hall, Frisk caused him to slam into the ground, cracking the surrounding tiles.

Shocked by the development, Calibri slowly sat up and made both skulls open their jaws and fire their fission beams, while Calibri fired a third from his hand. As the light from the beams cleared, Calibri looked for any sign of Frisk. Nothing.

The sound of an orb forming came from behind Calibri as he looked ahead. Summoning another sword in his hand, he slashed out behind him, though Frisk vanished before the sword connected. Standing up, Calibri felt another sudden pain in his back, which caused him to flip around and slash once again into thin air. Again, pain emerged, and again his slash hit nothing.

Tired, Calibri's eyes glowed gold for a few seconds before he flipped around to strike at Frisk, who was there this time. As the sword approached Frisk's head, his eyes turned ivory, and Calibri hit a shield that formed to protect him. Frisk's eyes then turned blue as a weight enveloped Calibri, forcing him to the ground. When the weight lifted, Calibri didn't bother moving.

"Finally giving up?" Frisk asked as he approached the pathetic form of Calibri.

Calibri didn't answer as he tried to move his limbs.

"I won't kill you, Calibri." Frisk said, offering a hand to the creature. "I really do need your help."

Calibri let out a coughing laugh as he slowly sat up. "I know you're only trying to gain my trust so I will be easier to kill." he said. "But don't you worry. I'm going to save you the trouble!" Calibri then tightened his grip on the sword and drove it through his neck. A few seconds later, the two skulls disappeared and Calibri himself turned to dust.

Frisk, slowly gripping what just happened, knelt down to the dust. "Nonononononono!!!!" he said, picking up the dust, which clung tightly to his hands.

"CALM DOWN." Frisk heard the machine's voice in his head. "USE GRAVITY MAGIC AND GRAB THE SOUL JAR. NOW!"

Clinging tightly to the last remaining glimmer of hope, Frisk called the SOUL jar Calibri laid down by a pillar to his hand. As it flew towards him, a red, heart-shaped object—Calibri's SOUL—began to rise from the ashes.

"USE GRAVITY MAGIC TO OPEN THE JAR AND COLLECT HIS SOUL!!!" the Timepiece said.

Quickly, Frisk caused the lid to open, and the orifice to consume the SOUL. As soon as the SOUL was inside, Frisk grabbed the jar and its lid out of the air and closed it.

Inside, the SOUL moved around, slamming into the walls of its prison, but to no avail.

"EXPERTLY DONE." the Timepiece said. "NOW, IT IS TIME. CONTINUE TO THE THRONE ROOM."

Heeding its words, Frisk tucked the jar under his arm and continued through the last of the Judgement Hall, bound for the Throne Room.

Sozo : Gaster Overdrive

Previous First posting First of this book Next

#undertale #undertale au #undertale rho #UTRStory #underearth #sozo

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robininthelabyrinth · 7 years ago

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FFXV: Eschaton - 4/4

Fic: Eschaton (ao3 link) - chapter 4/4

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Pairing: None (gen)

Summary: Sure, it’s the end of the world, but that just means someone’s got to fix it.

And then the world found its somebodies.

(aka, with Noctis gone into the Crystal and no one sure when he’ll be back, Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto end up saving the world one piece at a time)

——————————————————————————————

After Hammerhead, everything happens, it seems, all at once.

They almost don’t know how to act, seeing Noctis – older, of course, but still Noctis, Noct, their friend, their king, who they had begun to fear they might not live to see again. He’s older, the way they are, and strangely calmer, more serene, more centered, but he’s there.

They fall into old patterns almost immediately, looking to him for the way forward, and the way forward lies to Insomnia and the Citadel and Ardyn.

Noctis asks about armor.

Prompto finds him the old Crownsguard armor that belonged to King Regis, once upon a time, and then stored in a Hammerhead closet by Cid, and with it the golden leg brace that Noctis takes with a sigh of relief.

They wear Crownsguard uniforms themselves, heavy fabric forming protective coats, uniforms they wore in his honor during the Long Night and gladly wear now, the symbols of their roles as royal retainers.

And yet –

Something more.

Ignis’ coat is studded, a feature of dual usage: the studs hook together a tough leather underlayer for additional protection, while the studs themselves form formulae and weaknesses of various daemons written out in the blind-language in the event he would like to double-check a reference.

Gladio’s coat is dark, but not dark enough to fully hide the checkered effect given by the writing – hundreds, thousands of signatures, all his students adult and child, signing their names or designations in a massive effort to wish him good luck and safety on his journeys.

And Prompto –

His coat is the simple black of the Crownsguard. Only on the breast does it differ from the traditional: an intricately embroidered design in reflective light, mimicking the glittering stars of the constellations that form the insignias of the Army of Night. But Prompto, their beloved General, favors no squad or wing and bears upon his chest no constellation but rather a face, a breastplate in the fashion of the dreaded Medusa, and the face picked out in stars is the traditional helmet-mask of the MTs.

Prompto marches, head held high, and where he goes his army marches with him.

They are excited, and they are hopeful, and they are happy.

Noctis does not tell them about the blood price until they sit in the camp, just like they used to, the night before they go to Insomnia, and the Citadel, and Ardyn.

The blood price that means that they will lose Noctis almost as soon as they’ve gotten him back.

The Chosen King can defeat the darkness, but only at the cost of a life – his own.

“Wait, what?!” Prompto exclaims. “That’s bullshit!”

They all missed Noctis like a wound in the side, but none more than Prompto; he would rage at the injustice of it, they all would, they're primed for it, fit to burst, but Noctis holds up a hand, seeking peace.

"It's the will of the Six. But let's not waste the night speaking of that," he says. "Let's talk of good times, the past, instead."

They don’t want to – they’ve missed Noctis so much, and the thought of losing him again is intolerable – but it’s what he wants, and they want to see him happy more than anything else.

So they do.

And in the morning, they go to the Citadel.

Ardyn knows, somehow, that Noct is coming, and he has summoned all the daemons he can, surrounding the Citadel.

The areas around have been cleared by Prompto's armies in the ensuing years, but the area that remains Ardyn's is still a mess, rubble on the ground, cars destroyed, nothing human remaining.

"Looks like we're going to have a fight," Noctis says, standing at the barrier between the city proper and the neighborhood of the Citadel, and summons a sword.

"Noct," Ignis says. "Before we go in –"

Noctis looks at him.

Ignis removes from his pack a sword. It glitters silver even in the darkness, and matches the sword in Noctis' hand precisely but for the wings and stars that decorate the one Ignis holds.

Noctis' eyes widen, the first thing that has surprised him since his return.

"Ignis," he breathes. "It's beautiful."

"It's made just like yours," Gladio says. "The first one, the one you brought with you from the Citadel, the first one you summon, every time, even though it's too weak for you to use now."

Noctis looks at the sword he summoned as if seeing it for the first time.

"We found a special metal," Prompto says, beaming. "It's as light as your original, but much stronger – we had to use a special flame to forge it, and diamonds to carve the designs into it once it was done."

"It's for you," Ignis says, and holds it out.

"Thank you," Noctis breathes. "My friends, thank you all."

Ignis hesitates, as if to say something more, but decides against it. "It's nothing," he says. "We would do far more for you, our king and our friend."

After that, they focus on fighting – first the daemons that stand in their path and then Ifrit himself, the Infernian, the last of the Six that they need to defeat to win for Noctis their power.

Gladio delivers his blows a touch too gleefully, and Prompto aims his shots where they would hurt any male most, and Ignis empties what could have been stretched to a half-year's worth of potions and elixirs keeping them alive and curing their burns.

It’s worth it.

And then they fight on, up to the tower at the highest point of the Citadel, the throne room, standing by Noctis' side only long enough to be swatted away by the Accursed's magic like flies.

They can do nothing but watch as Noctis faces Ardyn alone.

But he is not entirely alone: when he wields his Armiger, Ardyn's own corrupted version shining red, there shines an extra point of light in Noctis' circle.

"What arm is that?" Ardyn sneers, surprised: Noctis spins fourteen arms around him, not thirteen.

Noctis appears equally surprised, but stands tall. "Mine," he says, and charges once more into the fray.

He wins, and Ardyn lies dead upon the ground.

His soul has fled, but his body remains intact: the work is not yet done. The Accursed cannot be killed so easily.

They meet Noctis at the steps to the throne room.

"I know what I must do," he says, and he is noble and tragic and beautiful – and far, far too young – all at once. "I leave it in your hands, my friends."

And he goes as they turn to fight the wave of daemons that rise up behind them in a last-ditch effort to stop the Chosen King.

"You know what," Prompto says, watching them form.

His fellows glance at him, eyebrows raised.

"This is bullshit," Prompto says, and he crosses his arms. "The Six created the Accursed, and they gave Noctis all their signs of favor and blessing – fighting him the whole damn way, wrecking the Disc and Altissia and Niflheim and everything while they did it – and then even after that they steal him away from us, damning us to ten years of darkness and unanswered prayers, and even then, that's not enough? They have to kill him, too?"

"The Astrals are cruel," Ignis says; he has said such things many times before, in the Long Night.

"Too cruel, too selfish," Gladio agrees, his usually cheerful countenance twisted into a scowl. "I'm with Prompto. This is bullshit."

"It's the will of the Six," Ignis tells them. “You heard Noctis.”

The two say nothing. They only look at him, their Supreme Commander during the darkness, and wait for his word.

Ignis tilts his head to the side in thought, considering the unspoken proposal, their unspoken suggestion, even as the daemons mass before them.

"Fuck the Six," he decides. "Prompto?"

"With pleasure," Prompto says, and makes a gesture.

Squadron Orion – named for the constellation called after the very first daemon Hunter, enshrined within the stars themselves for his service – fought very hard for the honor of escorting the royal party, and has hung back only on the strength of their orders and discipline, and now, given freedom, their snipers unleash wave after wave of fire, raining down from the rooftops where they have been watching.

The daemons fall helplessly beneath them.

"Let's go," Ignis commands, and they run up, hoping – none of them is sure what they are hoping for. Not to be too late, perhaps.

They find Noctis upon the throne, his father’s sword through his heart, and the magic in the room fading fast.

The air feels lighter.

“Is the curse gone?” Gladio asks, glancing out of the windows.

“It’s 3AM,” Ignis says, consulting his visor. “We’ll find out in a few hours. Noctis?”

“On the throne,” Prompto says, his voice dull. “He’s been stabbed.”

“Well, unstab him, and check to see if there’s any sign of life,” Ignis snaps.

Prompto and Gladio rush ahead, with Ignis making his way up a little slower, but no less anxious.

“Nothing,” Gladio says, his hands on Noctis’ neck, his hands red with Noctis’ blood from where he removed the sword and cast it aside. “He’s gone.”

Ignis presses a phoenix down into the wound, but nothing happens. “Nothing,” he says bleakly. “The Six do not wish for him to live.”

“He’s still warm,” Prompto says. “And like you said, Iggy; fuck the Six.”

He reaches to his breast and tears at it, the beautiful embroidery shredding under his grasping hands, and beneath his clothing there is the ever-smiling mask of the MT.

“You brought one?” Gladio exclaims.

“One what?” Ignis asks.

“A converter! You guys finally got it small enough to carry!”

“Just one,” Prompto says, already fitting the now-familiar smiling green mask over Noctis’ all-too-pale face. “We’ve only been able to get one down small enough; the power requirements are insane, and the army sort of unanimously agreed that I would carry it and that we wouldn’t tell anyone until we figured out a way to make more. Iggy, will this work?”

“The MT process is man-made,” Ignis says, and his voice strengthens with hope. “It owes nothing to the Six.”

“Will he still be Noctis?” Gladio demands.

“The brain can survive up to eight to twelve hours after death,” Ignis says. “But between three to ten minutes is best for full functionality - under three, if we hope to avoid brain damage entirely.”

“Gladio?” Prompto demands.

“I felt the last of his pulse slip away myself,” Gladio says. “We’re at a minute twenty-five seconds and counting. How long will this take?”

“Fifty-five seconds if I’m lucky,” Prompto says, moving as fast as he can to begin the process. “I've never done this before, just practice. Fuck –”

“Minute thirty,” Gladio says. “Prompto –”

“I’m working on it.”

“Keep up the count,” Ignis orders. “Prompto, can I assist?”

“We need the body to start to heal once it's revived, or at least not be actively trying to die as much,” Prompto says. “Anything non-magical would be best, but potions’ll do in a pinch.”

"Gladio, swap with me," Ignis says. "First aid kit is in my pack. Minute forty."

Ignis puts his hands at Noct's pulse-points. Nothing there.

Gladio grabs the first aid kit. "I have a high powered potion," he reports. "Phoenix down, in case that helps once he's revived. Non-magic items include a local, a surgical staple gun, transfusions, and a shit ton of bandages. Prompto, let me know when you need me."

Prompto nods, putting the nodes into place.

"Minute fifty," Ignis says.

"First start," Prompto says. "Five second count –"

"Minute fifty five."

"Now!"

The mask's eyes glow red, activating, and Noct's body heaves upwards, reacting to the strong electric charge of activation.

"Still no pulse," Ignis reports, hands steady and voice calm. "Two minutes."

"To be expected," Prompto says, too focused for any emotion, not even the desperate scrabbling hope-against-hope they all feel. "Setting up second start."

"Two minutes, ten."

Prompto says nothing, even though it’s clear he’s now running behind.

"Two minutes, fifteen."

"Second start," Prompto says. "Now!"

Noctis' body heaves again, and the sides of the mask begin glowing as processing power begins to churn. The first start creates the connection between mask and existing brainwaves; the second activates the mask's sub-tier control systems.

The ones that assist with involuntary impulses.

"I have a pulse," Ignis reports. "Two minutes, twenty – Gladio, we need healing or he'll bleed out entirely now that his heart's beating again."

Gladio moves quickly. His jaw sets as he reports, "Nothing from the phoenix down, and the potion is doing nothing. The Six want him."

"The Six aren't going to get him," Ignis says harshly. "First aid kid, now. Two minutes, thirty. Prompto, remember, more than three minutes risks brain damage."

“I know,” Prompto snaps.

Gladio reaches for the kit. There's no time to apply the local anesthetic first, but if they don't stop the bleeding, it'll be a moot point. He goes for the surgical staple gun.

Man-made technology.

"Wound is closed," Gladio says, drawing a line of adhesive to keep the lines of it further together. "He's lost a lot of blood - setting up transfusion now."

"Niflheim transfuse unit?" Prompto asks, already working on setting up stage three.

"Only the best," Gladio replies. In developing the MTs, as cruel and horrific a process as it was, Niflheim had developed transfusion devices far more powerful than anything Lucis had ever seen. Usually, of course, it's used for daemon blood, but Ignis packed plenty of regular packets with each of their blood types – Gladio and Noctis share the same, so there is plenty to spare.

"Two minutes forty-five," Ignis says, and the tension shows in his voice. "Gladio?"

"Transfuse unit set up, onto bandaging. It's as good as we're going to get. Prompto, go for it."

"Third start," Prompto says. "Activating – now."

Noctis heaves under their hands one more time, shaking and shuddering and finally still once more.

The mask shines with the light of an activated computer.

All the lights are green.

"Ignis?" Prompto asks.

"His pulse is steady," Ignis says, and checks Noctis' mouth. "And he's breathing. But we won't know for sure until we wake him up."

"I've applied the local anesthetic," Gladio says. "I've got plenty of the stronger stuff here, too, if he wakes up in pain - if he wakes up at all. Let's do a check and then put him back out."

"Ignis?" Prompto asks. He doesn't bother laying out the dangers of waking someone so injured and recently revived; Ignis knows them all.

"I think we need to take the risk of waking him now," Ignis says after a moment of consideration. "We must return to Lestallum triumphantly, with a corpse or with a man; we cannot let their hope linger in between only to die slowly."

Prompto nods. "Voice directed remote activation," he says, and his forcefully calm voice doesn't conceal the tears streaming down his face, or the way his hands clench and unclench spasmodically. "User: Prompto Argentum. Access code: star light, star bright."

The mask flickers confirmation.

"Direction: activate unit. Now."

The mask's lights flicker.

They all wait. The mask's sub-tier commands are responding, stimulating the parts of the brain responsible for awareness. The Empire used the function to regulate sleep; they use it, now, as a pick-me-up wake-up call. Or, in cases like this, to get answers they dearly need.

Noctis groans.

They all tense, staring at him.

"Five more minutes," he grumbles.

"He's alive," Prompto chokes, and covers his face. “He’s him.”

"Gladio," Ignis says, and finds he can say no more.

Gladio moves, applying both anesthetic and sedative, to let Noctis sleep in full before the local wears off and he begins to feel the results of the hole in his chest.

Noctis slips back into sleep without difficulty, the lines on his face fading as he relaxes.

Gladio tests another potion, one of the good ones from before the Long Night. "Still nothing," he reports, and his teeth are clenched.

Ignis reaches for one of his spare potions, one that post-dates the Night, one of the ones they made themselves from mining the remnants of the Disc of Cauthess. Less efficient, they've found, than the old ones made with the magic of the Kings of Lucis behind them, but perhaps...

Gladio takes it from him. His exhale of relief reveals the result even before he reports, "It took. He's healing."

Ignis' shoulders slump. "He's alive," he says, his voice blank with sheer shocked relief.

"He's alive," Prompto echoes.

"I'm really glad most of the Six are dead," Gladio says conversationally, his hands still busily bandaging. "Because I'm pretty sure we just said fuck you to the Revelation of Bahamut."

Ignis snorts, comforted, as always, by Gladio's special mix of a fiery temper and down-to-earth practicality. "The Six have had their Night with Noctis ," he says, ignoring Prompto and Gladio's groans at the pun. "Now it's our turn to have the day."

"Today the dies does not die," Prompto immediately jokes, using the archaic word for 'day'.

"What did I do in a past life to get stuck with the two of you?" Gladio grumbles good-naturedly. "C'mon, let's get Orion to bring in a stretcher. I want Noctis under proper hospital watch as soon as possible."

"Agreed," Ignis says, rising to his feet. He can feel the blood that covers him; he suspects it's covering the other two as well. "Another transfusion unit, perhaps."

"I'm already using everything you had on you," Gladio says wryly. "At this rate, Noctis won't have any blood of his own left in there."

"Given that this whole shitshow started with the blood of the kings of Lucis, maybe that's not such a bad thing," Prompto says, standing as well and calling to the Army squadron outside the doors.

"Indeed," Ignis says thoughtfully. "Perhaps not."

"Doesn't matter," Gladio says. "We're heading to Lestallum. It's time to bring the King in Exile home."

Noctis feels warm and fuzzy, mostly. Like maybe his reward for giving his life to his people was to be reborn as a puppy like Umbra – honestly, that would explain a lot.

Unfortunately, the feeling is only 'mostly'.

The rest of him feels like something died in his mouth.

"Uuuuuugh," he says, and someone lifts up his head and puts a cup of water to his lips.

The feeling is familiar enough – from his childhood, right after the accident – that he forces his eyes open.

He's not sure what he expects to see – Luna, maybe? During his time in the Crystal, he'd seen a quick flash of their wedding and his coronation, a true king of Lucis at last, and he'd vaguely gotten the idea that he would get that after he died as some sort of consolation prize for not being alive anymore. Not that anything was actually consolation for finding out your whole life was good for nothing but being set up as a sacrificial lamb, and that his dad and Luna had known about it the whole time.

Noctis had some not-fully-formed plans to have a word with both of them once he had a chance.

It's not Luna, though.

It's Ignis.

That by itself would've been fine, actually – what heaven is heaven without your friends? – but Ignis is still blind, the scars and the blankness and the visor he'd adopted, and he also looks vaguely distracted, like he's listening to a phone call.

That's distinctly not what Noctis would consider heavenly.

It's even less heavenly when Ignis suddenly says, "Prompto, we agreed to take shifts. He's just drinking water; if he actually wakes up, I'll tell you. You can stop calling every five minutes."

Heh. That sounds like Prompto.

"Gladio!" Ignis abruptly yelps. "What are – You're supposed to be asleep – what do you mean, you 'had a good feeling'? Go back to sleep this instant!"

Poor Ignis. Even death doesn't keep him from being bossy.

Noctis can't see the phone, but he figures Ignis is using some sort of radio, maybe connected to his glasses-goggles-visor thing.

"Say hi for me," he croaks.

Ignis very satisfyingly drops the glass – it bounces, luckily, instead of breaking – and exclaims, "He's awake!"

"Yeah," Noctis says, wondering why it's such a big deal. If he's dead, he's dead, right?

Unless he's gone back in time or something – man, he hopes he hasn't gone back in time. That'd been enough of a trip when he'd done it with Umbra; if he has to relive sacrificing himself again, he doesn't know what he's done to deserve it – he's done everything the Six wanted from him –

He tries to get up.

"No, don't –" Ignis says, but it's too late.

There's an awful pain and Noctis finds himself on his back again. "Ouch," he says, staring at the ceiling. He hurts. Why does he hurt?

"Because you got stabbed with a giant sword," Ignis says. "Try to avoid that in the future, perhaps?"

Stabbed with a –

Wait.

"I'm alive?!" Noctis exclaims, then clutches at his chest. No more yelling.

"Yes," Ignis says. "We revived you after we found you on the throne."

"Phoenix down shouldn't have been able to work," Noctis protests. He'd suggested it to Bahamut, in the Crystal, but Bahamut had been pretty damn clear that it was a no go. "The blood price –"

"The Chosen King defeated the Accursed at the price of a life, his own," Ignis says. "You willingly gave up your life and were definitely, fully, one hundred percent dead for two minutes, fifty seconds. We were counting."

Noctis chews on that for a few minutes. "But – how? The phoenix down…?"

"Phoenix down didn't work," Ignis confirms. "The magic that powers it is from the Six originally; we think that's the issue. We used man-made tech."

"Huh," Noctis says. That sounds - disturbing plausible, actually.

But what about –

"Is the Sun back? The Scourge, is it gone? What about the daemons?"

If all that had all been for nothing...

"The Sun has risen," Ignis says. "Those afflicted with the Scourge have been tested, and their blood is clean. The daemons – well, they're still around, but they've gone back to fleeing sunlight, so defeating them is going to be a lot easier going forward, and we have plenty of very enthusiastic hunters."

It's done.

It's done, it's done, it's done – and Noctis is somehow improbably, impossibly alive.

"What do I do now?" he asks. His whole life, he was meant to be a sacrificial lamb. The lamb has been sacrificed, and he still lives.

"Well," Ignis says dryly. "I know it can be very convenient to have a script that says you bow out dramatically at the end of the final battle and can therefore avoid all the messy rebuilding business that we've been working on, but you are the King of Lucis, so I'm sure we can think of something for you to do."

"Never change, Iggy," Noctis says, and means it, and that's when Prompto and Gladio burst into the room, shouting gleefully.

Noctis holds out his hands and feels nothing but happiness.

Except for that taste in his mouth.

Ick.

Noctis spent ten years in the Crystal, but it didn't feel like it. He'd thought, before he saw Talcott, that it had been a month or two. A year, at most.

Not ten.

Even when he'd gotten out of Angelgard and sailed to the ruined dock – the ferry port by Galdin Quay, because he hadn't been able to face up to seeing the real city further inland and what was left of it – he hadn't really believed it. Sure, there were lots of dead plants rotting in the fields, but he hadn't really been paying attention. It'd been dark, after all.

And then there was Hammerhead, and his friends, and that wasn't so different, either. The garage was the same, and the diner – sure, he noticed that there was a much larger settlement beyond, but Talcott said that it was a base for hunters. It made sense that it'd be bigger, powered by generators and what power could be spared from Lestallum. Talcott said most people went to Lestallum.

And still, Noctis didn't think too much about it.

The Citadel was surrounded by daemons – he expected that. Perhaps he should've thought about how they'd managed to get so far into the city before seeing one, but no; he would've simply assumed that Ardyn had pulled them back to the Citadel.

It's only now that he really starts to notice that things are...different.

Very different.

Ten years, and Noctis hadn't realized how much would change.

The first change he actually notices is the freaking MT coming into his hospital room and saying – saying! – in a static-y robot voice, "Orion Squadron casualty reports are in, General; less than a quarter of the unit."

"Good," Prompto replies, turning to look at the MT. "Give 'em a moon."

"They refuse the commendation," the MT replies, as if what Prompto said made any sense. "They request, instead, the privilege of Orion being named first unit."

Prompto smiles. "Granted." He glances at Ignis. "Unless you have any objections?"

"None," Ignis replies. "They deserve it."

"Orion?" Noctis asks. He's gotten several glasses of water now, and he's feeling much better now that he's been taken off the strongest drugs. Sure, his chest hurts, but three potions in ('new' potions, Ignis called them, though he hasn't explained what the difference is), Noctis is feeling almost up to conversation.

"The Army squadron that escorted us into the city," Ignis explains, like that makes any sense. "They kept us from being shot in the back, and they escorted us back out. They've requested the honor of being named the first unit – that is, the first unit in the assembly order. It means that they stand in the front during parades, and also that they're the first ones assigned in warfare – "

"I know what a first unit is," Noctis interrupts. "I – we have an army?"

He thought most of it had been destroyed in the attack on Insomnia.

Also. Why is there an MT here? Weren't all the MTs trying to kill them, at least before Niflheim had self-destructed?

"Sure," Prompto says eagerly. "It's mixed now, all units. We didn't want to permit any ideas about segregation settling in." He grins. "We call it the Army of Night."

"You didn't," Noctis says, distracted by sheer horror, but Prompto's shit-eating grin suggests that they did, in fact, call it that. That's Noctis' life in a nutshell; doomed to always have night-themed birthday parties and now, apparently, an army along the same lines. Also - "Mixed?"

"Yeah, regs and MTs," Prompto says. "We made sure every squadron has a pretty decent mix of both." He jabs a thumb at the MT. "Jiten here did most of the heavy lifting organization-wise."

MTs have names? Since when?

"I, uh," Noctis says, then hesitates, but no one jumps in to fill the gap. "Hi," he finally says to the MT. "Nice to meet you."

The MT salutes. "It is an honor to serve, Your Majesty," it says.

"Uh," Noctis says. "I'm...glad?"

"Oh, crap," Gladio says. "Noct, do you even know about the MTs?"

The other two look at him.

"Integration first took place during the Long Night," Gladio points out. "He wouldn't have –"

"—known, of course," Ignis finishes. "Noctis, forgive us. Approximately three months after the Long Night began – that is, three months after you disappeared into the Crystal, and the Sun stopped coming up – the MTs that had been deployed in Lucis, which had been left without any guidance from Niflheim, came to Lestallum under offer of parley and offered their assistance in a joint effort to survive the Long Night."

"They've been really helpful," Prompto adds, nodding at Jiten, who quickly retreats out of the room. "They could go out in the dark without worrying about daemons, which helped a lot in collection efforts, rebuilding, farming – refugee evac –"

"Prompto is their General," Gladio says.

Noctis smiles and waits for them to laugh.

They don't.

"Really?" he asks. "Good for you, Prompto!"

Prompto beams. "It's not that impressive," he says, a touch of that old childhood shyness coming back. "Tifor and Jiten – my aides-de-camp – they do a lot of the heavy lifting."

"Don't belittle your accomplishments, Prompto," Ignis says before Noctis can say the same. Prompto! A General! Of MTs! Noctis wouldn't have called that in a million years, but he can't help but be deeply glad that his friend finally has a position that gives him the respect he deserves. Noctis has always known Prompto was great, but he'd secretly feared that Crownsguard appointment or not, no one else would see the true worth behind the bright smiles and self-esteem issues.

But a General – well, that isn't too shabby.

That isn't too shabby at all.

"You'll have to tell me all about it," Noctis tells Prompto, who shoots him a thumbs-up. "How does the Army work, exactly? You and Gladio are Generals? What about Cor? He's still around, right?"

"Prompto is the General," Ignis says, sounding amused. "Singular; we don't really have enough manpower for more at the moment, though I suppose our Wing Commanders would likely be the next in line for promotion."

"You take away my Wing Commanders, I will tell your secretary on you next time you try to go hunting to avoid a meeting with the Laborers' Union," Prompto says immediately, with something of the cadence of an often-repeated argument. "We can worry about generals when – well, I guess Noct is back now, but he's only just woken up! It can wait!"

"Prompto's pretty protective," Gladio tells Noctis in a stage whisper. "I think he just doesn't want to have to do the paperwork necessary."

"You bet I don't," Prompto says. "And no one, not even our dear Supreme Commander, is gonna make me do it."

"Supreme Commander?" Noctis asks. He hopes that's not him. Being 'King' is enough of a title.

"Ignis," Gladio says with a smirk, even as Ignis sighs. "He handles administration – basically, he runs Lucis."

"Mostly Lestallum," Ignis says. "And the few outposts we constructed, such as the one in Galdin Quay."

"So, basically, everything left in Lucis," Prompto says. "He also manages our trade relationships with the MTs in Niflheim – and the remaining people there, though they took a pretty nasty hit – and takes care of our further outposts in Accordo and Tenebrae, though we figure they'll want some independence now that the sun's up again."

Noctis nods. That sounds – well, he supposes it doesn't sound too weird, given that the world was dropped into darkness and all of humanity had to unite to fight the daemon threat. He could see them reaching out to each other, and he knows better than anyone that there's no better administrator than Ignis.

"Technically, I only oversee our relationships with Accordo and Tenebrae," Ignis says mildly. "They've sent delegations here to be incorporated into our Office, but they run their own countries."

"They report to you," Gladio shoots back.

"What do you do?" Noctis asks Gladio. If Prompto's the sole General, then what job did his warlike Shield take up? Leading the Hunters, maybe? Protecting Lestallum with a home guard? Training new fighters?

"Gladio runs the school system," Ignis says.

Noctis blinks. "Really?"

He can't even add anything like he did with the shock of finding out Prompto's role. This is just too weird.

"I'm just as surprised as you," Gladio assures him, taking no offense. "It's just – you know. Someone needed to do it, and no one was doing it, so I just kinda fell into it. Iris runs the Hunters, so the Amicitias are still plenty represented."

"Don't let Gladio mislead you," Prompto says. "He's the most popular guy in all of Lestallum. He could run a coup any day he wanted."

"Luckily for all of you, I don't want!"

"Awww, is widdle Gladio afraid of some paperwork?" Prompto teases.

"I do more than you do, General," Gladio shoots back, but he's grinning.

Noctis chuckles.

"They haven't changed that much," Ignis murmurs to him.

"Yeah," Noctis says, taking another sip of water. "I'm glad."

"Cor runs the Crownsguard," Ignis continues. "Both the training grounds – he and Gladio share responsibility there, with Gladio responsible for the basics that we've required every citizen to know and Cor responsible for further refinement until the trainees are deemed ready to join either the Crownsguard or the Army – and the actual Crownsguard, which functions as our internal police force and external defense of Lestallum proper."

Noctis nods, then remembers a second later to add aloud, "Got it."

"Cindy runs the Hammerhead garage," Ignis says. "Which is to say, she trains our Engineering Corps and makes them field-ready, and then they join up with the Army or the Crownguard and keep our tech working. Cid helps supervise all the repairs in Lestallum."

"Talcott said he retired," Noctis says.

"Talcott is seventeen," Ignis says. "And an idiot."

Noctis chokes a little.

"That's not nice," Gladio says from where he’s wrestled Prompto in a headlock. "The kid's just naive, that's all."

"Cid keeps loudly proclaiming that he's retired and that all he has to look forward to is sitting on his ass and eating Ignis' occasional foray into gourmet seafood," Prompto agrees, not appearing even slightly ruffled by his current position. "And somehow he still gets up every day at 6AM and finds enough to repair in Lestallum's walls, apartments, and streets to keep him busy."

"He's on the Council, too," Ignis says. "Gladio, let Prompto go." Gladio complies, ruffling Prompto's hair. "The Council represents those of us involved in leadership positions. The three of us, Cor, Cid, Cindy, Eufiv – he's an MT, the first one we made contact with – Rissa, from Accordo, Trajan, from Tenebrae, and Aranea -"

"Aranea?"

"Minister of Transportation," Gladio says. "She and Cor can't stand each other; it's hilarious."

"And Rissa? Trajan?"

"Rissa's the Secretary's niece, representing her aunt and Accordo. The Secretary insisted on having a seat at the council, and Tenebrae didn't have a lot of people left but they insisted on sending one anyway because they weren't going to let Accordo get one up on them," Ignis says. "It's been interesting. The other members of the council are Dustin, Holly, and Hatu, the representatives of the Laborer's Guild – Hatu's MT, and I think you know the others – and Zanib and Dethri, who represent our farmers, both regular and MT."

Noctis nods.

"There's probably going to be another Council meeting soon to discuss the whole Sun rising again thing," Prompto grumbles. "You'd think they'd accept it as a good thing, not whine about it."

"Be fair, Prompto," Ignis says. "This has changed a lot. We no longer have to worry about Vitamin D deficiencies, and we can grow our crops using natural cycles instead of artificial lamps."

"Isn't that a positive?"

"Yes," Ignis says patiently, "but a number of our crops were on an accelerated growth schedule that depended on using the lamps to create faster 'days', which will no longer be possible unless we cover those fields - and that seems a bit counterintuitive."

Noctis never much thought about crops. He picked peppers and onions and other wild vegetables as they traveled so that Ignis would have more to cook, but that wasn't enough to feed a city – and they wouldn't have been an option anyway, with no sun.

Crap.

No sun.

Noctis tries to think of all the things the sun is useful for, and the list grows longer and longer and longer –

"How didn't you all freeze?" he asks.

"Hah! That's what I asked!" Prompto exclaims. “And they call called me crazy!”

"Not crazy," Gladio says. "Just hysterical. Which you were."

"We've generally ascribed the effect to ‘just magic’," Ignis tells Noctis. "Our scientists can get you a more complete answer, if you care to learn more -"

"Just magic is good enough," Noctis says hastily. "Just – wow. You guys did a lot. I mean. I know it's been ten years, but – wow. I just. It's a lot."

"You'll have time to adjust," Prompto assures him.

"Only so much," Ignis says. "People are already flooding the area around the hospital, hoping for a glimpse of him. My apologies, Noct; it was rather inevitable."

"I know how to do public appearances," Noctis says, and he does; he has the distinct suspicion that Lestallum is a lot larger than it used to be, but he's used to the annual parades in Insomnia, which he's sure were even bigger. "I can handle that."

"You shouldn't have to," Prompto protests.

"It's his duty," Gladio says firmly. "The King in Exile has returned; people have been having a non-stop party for the last three days. They need to see him long enough to be satisfied and then Cor can kick all their asses and send them home – speaking of which, you wanna see Cor, Noct? He's right outside."

"Absolutely," Noctis says fervently, only realizing a minute later that he would absolutely freak out if Cor the Immortal had grown old over the last ten years.

Luckily, Cor looks the same – maybe a little more salt than there used to be in his hair, but strong and able as ever, thank the Six.

"Good to see that I only have to count two and a half dead Lucis kings on my list," is the first thing he says. "Do me a favor and try to not make it three."

"It's good to see you too, Cor," Noctis says, because it really, really is.

"I've worked out an honor guard," Cor says. "You ready to go say hello to your people?"

"No more than a few minutes," Ignis warns. "He's still healing."

Cor rolls his eyes. "I'm not new at this. Ten minutes, max, and the entire crowd will be able to take a picture, and then he'll be transferred, safely, to the official residence."

"Official residence?" Noctis asks. "Please tell me it's not for me."

"It's not for you," Ignis assures him. "It's for everyone who works at the Office - that is, the administrative center. Thus, 'official residence'."

"We all hate it, too," Prompto says, rolling his eyes. "Ignis and his puns. But the name stuck."

Noctis smiles and puts his hand to his face, planning on making a snarky comment about Ignis' fondness for puns, but then he notices – "My beard's gone!"

"What, you mean the fuzz?" Gladio asks, badly hiding his laughter. "Had to go, sorry. Doc's orders."

"It's the only thing that made me look older than twelve!"

"No one will care," Ignis says.

"I don't care if no one cares!" Noctis yelps. "I care!"

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Chosen King of Lucis," Cor sighs.

It's been the busiest three months of Noctis' life – and oh, he's alive! He's alive! That's never getting old, unlike him, because he's alive! – and honestly, he still doesn't actually know what exactly he's supposed to do.

Oh, he's definitely a morale booster. No argument there. People have literally fainted in excitement upon hearing that he's coming to visit their area. He can see the way an entire area brightens with excitement when he's around, and the way that excitement remains afterwards. He shakes a lot of hands, to the point that Ignis literally dumps an entire case of hand purifier in front of Noctis one morning as a not-so-subtle pointed comment on the subject.

Noctis doesn't mind it the way he used to before everything, though, back when he was a spoiled prince who whined about how no one seemed to care about who he really was inside. He's moved beyond that. He finds that he likes talking to people, now, hearing about their lives, what they went through during the Long Night; he likes looking them in the eyes and saying, "You did well," and seeing the multitudes of little guilts and worries and regrets just fall off their shoulders.

He likes learning about what they do, now, and how their days are arranged – all so different from how it was before.

He even gets to spend at least one day every week going fishing in a new spot with a new group of fishermen showing him the best places.

But he's the King. His father always spoke of burden, and duty, and responsibility, and he wasn't always just trying to prepare Noctis for what the Six had planned for him – some of it was about the role of King itself.

Noctis is pretty sure he's meant to do something a lot less, well, fun with his time.

Ignis keeps assuring him that it’s fine, that he can take it slow, that it'll be a good while before anyone expects him to be conversant with the issues of the day, much less authoritative on them. That makes sense, since practically every day there's something new he's discovering.

It's not just the big things, like how there's a full on informal economy bartering things like chores or child-care or even what lunch or dinner shift you're on, or how everyone takes at least one shift working in the fields no matter who you are, or how people seem to forget about their nationalities and immigration and all of those earlier concerns that seemed insurmountable, Accordo and Tenebrae and Lucis and Niflheim all merging to an amorphous mass and re-formed instead into supporters of sports teams representing various animals instead of states.

(Noctis has been informed by Gladio and Prompto that he supports the Dualhorns. Ignis says that the King shouldn't play favorites, but that only led to cheerful accusations that Ignis secretly supports the Behemoths.)

Sometimes it's also the small things.

Like language.

A whole new set of slang has popped up, mostly developed by the younger generation – some who are reaching their preteens without ever having memory of the sun, which is so horrifying that Noctis needs to stop thinking about it right away – and it's absolutely fascinating to Noctis.

His favorite development originated with Prompto's army. Apparently, once they settled on the Army of Night theme (thanks, guys) and assigned squadrons based on constellations and legions based on directions, they began to use moon-shaped medals as commendations, leading to the colloquial use of the word "moon" to refer to getting a good thing.

That, in turn, got translated into the civilian population, and someone, somewhere down the line, thought the moon reference was meant to be to Lady Lunafreya.

And that's how it came about that children compliment things they think are awesome by saying "that's really luna!"

Noctis couldn't stop smiling for two days after he worked out what happened and what the term meant. He thinks that Luna would be happy, deeply happy, to have that be her legacy, not the mournful tragic princess figure she'd been remembered as following the disasters at Insomnia and Altissia.

But language issues aside, Noctis is slowly starting to adjust.

He's getting used to seeing MTs everywhere, both the pale rehabilitated and fully armored MTs of various levels, or even people in the middle of transitioning – in both directions!

Noctis himself spent some time as a partial MT, apparently, as a means to save his life. He still has his mask – Prompto gave it to him after he went from the hospital to the Official Residence (Ignis why), saying that since it was coded to Noctis' brainwaves, it wasn't really useful for anyone else, and also in case Noctis wants to use it again.

Noctis felt really weird about it for a month or so, then realized he was (even if only in private) being a bit of a judgy asshole about the whole thing, so he tried on the mask a few times. It's a strange feeling, having it on – almost like he has an extra wing to his brain, like a phone that he can used to store information to pull up later except with his brain. It's pretty cool, actually, and using it in public once – he forgot everybody's names at a Very Important Meeting – actually ended up helping quiet down some people who'd been trying to start some anti-MT stuff. So there's that.

Said Very Important Meeting was actually about how Noctis doesn't seem to have brought back any magic with him when he got revived – the Crystal is a dead rock (they checked) and Noctis got to tell the story of how the ring of the Kings of Lucis had been used to finally destroy Ardyn's spirit and then dissolved, and how he himself had been on the brink of dissolving when his friends had revived him.

A couple of people asked if he felt upset about it, which Noctis supposes is fair – he did his duty to the Six, he ought to get some heavenly reward – but honestly? He's alive. He can get whatever reward the Six want to give him later; right now, he's just enjoying seeing the sun rise every day.

Okay, not every day. More like once in a blue moon. He likes to sleep in, okay?

If anything, though, Noctis is super relieved that no one seems angry about the whole no magic thing – he can still do some basic stuff, like warping or summoning weapons, but that's it. No magic sharing, no Wall, no more super-powerful potions or flasks of fire or lighting, nothing. Some people did seem a bit regretful about it, but basically everyone took it pretty well.

Noctis supposes that they're not upset because they've been without for ten years, working on alternatives (Iris' new 'stun gun' is basically like a strike of lightning, and wow is Noctis happy that the MT squads he went up against didn't have the new souped-up portable flamethrowers Cindy designed, because ouch), so it's not so much a loss as it is a perk they ended up not getting.

The Sun is more than enough for them.

For the earth, too – everything has started growing like it's trying to win a race, bursting out of years-long dormancy, painting the world green.

Noctis heard a kid once say, in a tone of wonder, that the green in the trees really does look just like it did in the old picture books, and it broke his heart.

So, yeah. He brought back the Sun but not magic, everyone's cool with that.

Still doesn't solve the question of what Noctis is actually supposed to do all day beyond talking with people.

Ignis tries to integrate Noctis into politics, and Noctis knows he should but he kinda doesn't really want to? Besides, everyone instinctively looks to Ignis for answers, and Noctis is no exception, so it seems ridiculous to make Noctis the middleman. Like, sure, Noctis can put on some fancy clothing and be all regal when they need to sign official trade agreements or open up new grounds – he got to cut the ribbon on a whole giant set of new fields to be used for growing, and on a brand new plot for a new research facility – and he's totally happy to take on figurehead duties, but there isn't really that much of it yet.

Nor is he really useful the way his father was, the Commander in Chief of the armies of Lucis. Prompto's actually a really great general, managing his army and making sure they're all taken care of just as they take care of their expansive duties - mostly working with the Hunter Division to clear the countryside of daemons, since there isn't an ongoing war.

Nor is there likely to be, what with Ignis commanding the loyalty of delegates from all over Eos.

Besides, the army loves Noctis in the same impersonal way they love their country, or Lestallum, but they're deeply protective of Prompto. Any attempt to take powers from him would be met with what Noctis has already learned is classic MT-style resistance tactics: obedience, yes, but the least efficient, most time-wasting type of obedience possible.

So that's out, especially since Prompto finally agreed to give his Wing Commanders general-level duties, though they'd all, to a man (or woman), refused to actually be promoted to the rank of General, preferring that that be reserved for Prompto.

Prompto turned bright pink with pleasure when they did that. It was a good look on him: pride in respect well-deserved.

After his forays with the Army hadn't really gone anywhere, Noctis wandered over to the Crownsguard instead, wondering if there was anything he could do there. Which there really, really wasn't. Cor was great, but Noctis barely escaped without being conscripted for fighting lessons because Cor still thinks he's fifteen.

No, not fifteen, because Cor's kids are fifteen and them, Cor respects.

No lie, Noctis does too. Who in the Empire thought having three mini-Cors was a good idea?!

Not that they're all that similar to Cor. Maybe Immie, the girl; she's the most warlike of the lot of them.

So yeah, Noctis is staying away from the Crownsguard for anything other than a friendly hello and a morale-boosting time to talk.

One place he has been able to do some stuff is in Gladio's schools – now plural, dividing the youngest kids from the oldest and both of them from the middle set. Noctis' talks are crazy popular, even when he's just talking about fishing or something like that.

Mostly, though, he shares stories.

The most popular are the stories about Gladio, and Ignis, and Prompto, of course, the sillier the better, but even with their entire childhood to mine, Noctis can't talk about them forever. So he starts talking about the things he sees – the fishermen he meets, the farmers, the scientists, the laborers. He shares their stories, the ones they tell him, and everyone loves it, kids and adults and even the people who told them to him.

Noctis hadn't understood the last – it's their story, he's just retelling it – but Cid clapped a hand on his shoulder and told him, "It's different when it comes from you. For us, it's just our lives; but you? You're the King. It doesn't matter if it was yesterday's boring old routine; when you say it, it sounds like a fairy tale."

Noctis has a standing weekly speech at the schools, a different part each week.

Still, it doesn't feel like enough.

The Hunter Division is always happy to have him, but Iris still has that crush on him (Six, why?) and it can be a little awkward.

So Noctis ends up spending his time touring, talking, and talking some more. He gets in practice with his brand new favorite sword – his own Royal Arm! only the best gift ever! even if some asshole did nickname it the Short Sword of Night and the name stuck and if Noctis hears even one more joke about being short he is going to find that person and do something distinctly un-kingly to them – and he gets to hang out with everyone. His people.

"When do I start really working?" he asks Ignis.

Ignis blinks at him. "You already have, Noct," he says. "You can't even imagine how happy you make people."

Well, yeah.

But it still feels like there should be something more.

And then, one day, there is.

It starts off with something small, something so subtle that Noctis almost misses it.

He's touring one of the student fields – not one of the ones that bring in the majority of the vegetables that feed Lestallum with wheat and potatoes and rice and sprouts, not to mention a truly unholy number of mushrooms that had blossomed during the darkness, but one of the experimental gardens staffed primarily by enthusiasts and students. This one's new, actually – it's just growing peppers, a particularly hardy but still excruciatingly spicy breed bred by one of the local transplants from Galdin Quay – but it's being grown in the ground by the younger kids to teach them how this whole cycle of life thing works when the Sun is involved.

Noctis is being led around by a particularly authoritative nine year old, indulgently oohing and aahing over every pepper she points out, when he notices a glimmer of metal out of the corner of his eyes. Used to scouting out threats, Noctis turns to look, but it's not a threat.

It's a shrine.

Looks like a shrine to Ramah, but Noctis can't tell; it's gotten grown over and dusty from years of sitting in darkness, which is fair enough. There are two buckets on the altar.

"No one's had time to clean it up yet?" Noctis asks, nodding at it.

The nine year old – Ferris – blinks at him. "Clean what up?"

Noctis points.

"Why would we clean up the shelf?" she asks, bewildered. "It's not like we keep fruit on it; it's just fertilizer."

Noctis' eyebrows shoot up. "You guys gave Ramah fertilizer?"

"Ramah?" Ferris asks. "Oh, the one with the pictures. No, it's not for him; if he wants some fertilizer, he can get his own. It's just a convenient place to put it, that's all."

"You store fertilizer on the Fulgarian's altar?" Noctis says, still taken aback.

"Why not?" Ferris asks with a shrug. "He's not going to notice."

"I suppose," Noctis says, frowning a little. It still seems bizarre to him. "The altar is usually used to give him offerings, you know."

Ferris shrugs again, interest clearly lost and eyes already fixed on the next row of peppers. "Whatever," she says. "I don't know why we'd give him anything when he doesn't give anything to us. Come look here – I think we've got shoots!"

Noctis doesn't say anything about it that day, but after, he keeps an eye out.

There are a lot of overgrown shrines and altars.

Noctis could understand why the Fulgarian's forest shines might be left unattended, being as there was rarely a way to tell where a lightning-struck tree could be found without light to see by and the dark eaves of the forest were ripe for daemon attacks.

But the local shrines to the Glacian, located at every crossroads, almost universally lack the traditional bowl of milk – the one shrine he found that had one, it had a cat's name on the side and seemed to be in use as someone's front yard.

He looks in the windows of the first out-ward facing house at each village and doesn't see a remembrance-candle for the Inferian.

He doesn't even see the handful of dirt traditionally poured on door-steps in the name of the Archaean – not even on newly broken ground.

"Is there a well around here?" he asks Ignis. "Or a river?"

"Certainly," Ignis replies absently. "Would you like a glass of water?"

"No, just wondering – hey, maybe you'd know. Do the laundresses still pour a glass of water out for the Hydrean before they start cleaning?"

"I doubt it," Ignis says, attention still primarily focused on the report in front of him. "Noct, would you be able to go out on a hunt tomorrow? I think it would be very beneficial to morale in Hammerhead; there have apparently been some disturbances there. The King’s personal presence would be most useful in calming their tempers."

"Sure," Noctis says. "Want me to head out tonight?"

"I'd appreciate that. Prompto will meet you with a guard."

Noct really needs to practice keeping the communication link open at all times; he keeps missing some conversations that he’s pretty sure he should be in on.

"Is a guard really necessary?" he asks instead.

"You're the King, Noct," Ignis says. "Pomp and circumstance is part and parcel with it, I'm afraid."

Prompto isn't able to accompany him, to their mutual regret; they've gotten back into the habit of hanging out every free evening they can. One of the MT squadrons even found an old console and a positively ancient copy of King's Knight for them to play. But Prompto’s duties as General come first, and his presence has been especially requested to clear out a particularly bad daemon nest in Niflheim, so he has to go.

"I'll send Orion with you," Prompto says, holding out his arms as his newest aide-de-camp – Fugit, who's a regular soldier rather than an MT, one worked his way up to the position of aide-de-camp on the strength of sheer enthusiasm alone – clasps armor around him. "You know those guys pretty well by now, and they're used to your antics – you'll hardly notice them."

"Yeah," Noctis says, distracted as he watches the thick metal armor. "Hey, Prompto."

"Yeah?"

"Do you give offerings to the Draconian? Since he's the patron of armored soldiers and all that."

"No," Prompto says. "The MTs don't worship the Six, and neither does anyone else anymore. Pass me the helmet?"

Noctis passes him the helmet. "What do you mean?" he asks. "I noticed the shrines are empty, but...I mean, people still reference the Six in conversation."

"Habit," Prompto says with a shrug. "I mean, some people still do it, but it's not as widespread anymore. After the Oracle died and the Long Night started, and none of the Six were answering anyone for anything, it just sort of...faded, y'know?"

Noctis did not know.

The Orion squad are familiar to him now, and Noctis would even call them friends of a sort, so when they're on the road to Hammerhead, he asks them, "Do you guys give offerings to the Six at all?"

"No," Ifiv, the squad leader says. "I don't know anyone who does."

"What, even regs?"

"Some old people, maybe," Twelf says, but he sounds doubtful. "I think your return was the last straw, honestly."

Noctis frowns. "What do you mean?"

"The Six abandoned mankind long ago," Twelf says. "And set us up for failure and despair. The Oracle gave up her life, and the Six didn't care. The King disappeared, and the Six did nothing but urge it along. The Accursed roamed the land freely, and the Six looked to mankind to fix it instead of doing shit about it themselves. And when you finally returned to clean up their mess, they demanded a blood price to fix what they themselves had wrought. Who’d worship gods like that? And why?"

Noctis stares. "That's blasphemy," he says blankly. "Aren't you all worried about Solheim happening all over again?"

"Solheim's the land that got destroyed by the first Astral war," Vernum, a reg, tells the MTs in the group. "And no, your Majesty, not really. All the stories say that the Inferian turned against Solheim because they actively betrayed him somehow; we're not offending them. We're just choosing not to worship anymore."

"Besides, most of them are dead," Ifiv says. "The Glacian in Niflheim, the Archean in the stone, the Hydrean in Altissia, the Inferian on the steps of the Citadel – whatever's left of them can either be actively helpful, or they can be obsolete, and they've chosen the later." He shrugs. "So fuck 'em. Begging your Majesty's pardon for the language."

"It's fine," Noctis says, his mind awhirl. "And – people agree with you?"

"The Long Night was hard," Vernum says. "The people who thought that praying to the Six would save them tended not to have made it, if you get my gist. The faith’s been dying for ten years now. Though I do think more people would've stuck with it if the leaders hadn't taken a stand against it."

"A stand?"

"The Six wanted you dead," Twelf says. "That's why the phoenix down and the old-style potions didn't work; that's why the magic went away. The Six intended to end the line of Lucis, and fuck whatever people lived in hope for your return. You dying like you were supposed to would've crushed the Triad, you know – Commander Ignis, General Prompto, and Headmaster Gladio, that is. That's when they lost the last bits of faith they had in the Six, and with them everyone else's."

"It's okay," Vernum says encouragingly, slapping Noctis on the shoulder. "We'd rather have you than the Six anyday, your Majesty."

"Oh," Noctis says, because what else is he supposed to say to that? "Thanks."

Less than a week later, the first of the dreams comes to him.

Noctis is standing in that vast emptiness that constituted the center of the Crystal – floating, really, since there's no ground. And before him is the massive form of Bahamut.

Noctis is aware that he's dreaming; he often is, nowadays. He's so distinctly aware of the feeling of being alive, of being where and when he is, that dreams have an immediately detectable difference.

He tries to change the dream – another time, another place.

He fails.

This isn't a regular dream.

“Well-met, Chosen King,” Bahamut rumbles.

Noctis crosses his arms. “Really,” he says flatly. “That’s what you’re going with.”

Bahamut is silent, a moment’s hesitation. He wasn’t expecting that response.

“Now I know why Iggy, Gladio and Prompto gave me such shit for saying ‘Hi’ after being gone for ten years,” Noctis says. “Well, what is it? What do you want now?”

“The present situation is unprecedented,” Bahamut says. His voice is deep and echoing; Noctis thought it was intimidating the first time they met. Now it just feels like a voice ringing in a hollowed out set of armor. “Revelation has been disrupted.”

“I could’ve told you that,” Noctis says. “I am, in fact, alive. Something you might’ve noticed in the last three months.”

He’s angry, he suddenly realizes. He’s actually angry – it’s been so long since he’s been angry at anything, truly angry, enraged. Not even when he was fighting Ardyn – his time in the Crystal filled him with power and with a deadened sort of calm that let him do what he needed to do. The same way a sedative helps you lead a sheep to slaughter, but he supposes that voluntary martyrdom is easier when you’ve had ten years of divine peace poured into your head.

Well, that power – that peace – left him when he died, and he’s back to being just plain old Noctis.

And Noctis, he remembers now, gets angry.

He got angry at Niflheim for doing what it did to his father. He got angry at his father for not telling him the truth. He got angry –

And then he acted.

“The people have foresaken the true ways,” Bahamut says, clearly opting to move on with the conversation. “They no longer call upon the Six. They no longer give forth of the fruits of their labors. The traditional honors due to the Six have fallen to the wayside, and humanity continues on heedless. And so it falls upon you, Chosen King, to –”

“No,” Noctis interrupts.

Bahamut pauses.

“Yes, you heard me,” Noctis says. “No. I did what you wanted me to do – you chose me when I was a little kid, when I was born, you made it so that everyone around me knew I was destined to die –”

His dad. Clarus. Luna. Noctis was just lucky that no one had ever bothered letting Ignis, Gladio and Prompto in on the secret, and Cor had been deliberately sent out of the city, denied the chance to help defend his people, because he was the only one who knew enough of what Noctis needed to do but not everything – because Cor would’ve told Noctis if he’d known. Cor told Noctis as much, and Noctis knew his dad well enough that he agreed with Cor’s conclusion; his dad would’ve lied to spare Cor as much as anyone else.

But the others – every time they looked at him, they knew. They saw someone doomed to die, and it colored every interaction they had with him. His father, who loved him, lived his life with the knowledge that his blood meant Noctis’ death. Luna, who could have been his, knew for years that they would never be together in life; was it ever truly real, the possibility of love between them? Could it ever have been more, tainted with pity and foreknowledge as it was?

That was the true revelation of Bahamut.“– and I did it. I did everything you wanted. I destroyed the Accursed. I returned the light to Eos. I banished the Starscourge. It’s been done. And that’s it. No more.”

“Your duty –”

“What duty?” Noctis demands. “The people losing faith isn’t because of me, it’s because of you. It’s because of your indifference to their pleas for help during the Long Night, because the Six only care about the Oracle and the Kings. We’re the only ones who can summon you, after all. The only ones you give power to – a power with a terrible price. And in the end, all of that was to fulfill your Revelation. All of it was so that I could die to bring light back to the world. Well, I did. I died.”

Bahamut is silent.

“If it was up to you, I’d still be dead. I’d be dead right now and unable to help you – what would you do then?”

Bahamut is silent.

“The Oracle’s line is extinguished,” Noctis says. “The line of Kings died with me upon the throne. Those were the two ways by which the Astrals communicated with mankind – or were you just planning on picking someone else out of a hat?”

Bahamut is silent, still, and his eyes – the only part of him that looks alive – are focused intently on Noctis.

Noctis looks back and does not waver.

He won’t let himself be intimidated. Not this time. Not again.

Never again.

“I was raised with the stories of the Astrals,” he says. “From my father. From Luna, who was your Oracle, and who you let die – no. Who you killed, as part of the price of the covenant, and never mind that Ardyn was the hand that wielded the knife. In all the stories, it’s the same: you are great beings, powerful beyond our knowledge, but you do not claim to be gods. It’s humanity that chose to worship you; that’s what all the stories said. You never demanded it, we just did it anyway. Well, humanity’s made a difference choice now.”

“You will turn against the Six?” Bahamut asks.

“I’m not turning against anyone,” Noctis says. “The Six may do as they please. Humanity will do what it pleases. There is no need for our paths to cross.”

“There are yet threats –”

“If there’s something we should worry about, we appreciate a head’s up,” Noctis interrupts. “But I played your game until the end. I’m done. And judging from what I’ve see, we’re done. Humanity’s done. You helped me, the Six of you, but it was in your interests. My friends? My people? You left them in darkness, and now it’s their turn to leave you in darkness. It’s too late now to think about how much you enjoyed being worshipped and receiving offerings.”

Bahamut stares at him.

“The revelation of Bahamut has been completed,” Noctis says, his voice fierce and unyielding even as his soul shakes within him. “We are finished.”

And then he wakes up with a force of will, eats breakfast while watching the sunrise, and feels –

Pretty damn pleased with himself.

Of course, it’s never that easy.

It’s three days until the next dream.

Three days well spent, in Noctis’ mind. The job’s bigger than Ignis described: nests, multiple nests, of daemons hiding beneath the ground, stalking ever closer to the safety of Hammerhead. They’d been planning an assault for a while, using raider’s hideaways, and the Sun coming up had disrupted but not derailed their plans.

Noctis hunts each day until he’s sore but cheerful, and when the Sun begins to set he does not rest but rather goes among his people. He sees at once the issue that has Ignis concerned: there are those in Hammerhead, hunters and some of the former rich men of Lucis, that are not particularly pleased, and they speak together too often for Noctis’ comfort. The rich men dream of their old positions, the ease and luxury and power they once commanded and feel they ought to command again, greed and ambition lighting their eyes at the thought of all the empty land that could be harnessed for the endless increase of their own wealth, and they speak to the hunters in terms meant to appeal to them. The hunters see their careers, raised during the Long Night to the pinnacle of Lestallum’s defense alongside its Army and its Crownsguard, falling back to the old ways: respected, yes, but a difficult life, a lonely life, and one not compensated by the adulation of the people every time they brought home markers of their progress.

The wiser hunters welcome it. The younger ones – the foolish ones, the ones who follow Iris only in technicality, the ones who think of themselves as a freer, finer breed than those who chose to join the other arms of Lestallum’s defense – grumble, and listen to words they shouldn’t.

Noctis walks through the campfires at night, smiling and shaking hands and talking and listening; the hunters’ complaints fade away at the sight of their King, who hears them speak and asks them what they would think of the installment of a Hunters’ Brigade, separate to the Army and the Crownsguard, designed specifically for long-range missions requiring independent operation.

Ignis hasn’t approved any such thing, but Noctis thinks it’s a good idea – even the hunters who are content with their ways look interested, and Iris is practically overflowing with pleasure. And, hey, in the end, he is the King; he’s allowed to have some ideas himself.

The rich men, though, remain a problem. What use is wealth without power, and what use is power without access to the King? But they don’t like Noctis; they watch him, frowning when they think he’s not looking, and Noctis isn’t sure what to do with them.

He’s still thinking of it when he falls asleep on the third night, and that’s when he dreams.

She comes to him as Gentiana.

“You do know I know you’re Shiva, right?” Noctis asks. He finds himself sitting on a picnic blanket in a field, filled with blue flowers that still strike a pang in his heart: the fields of Tenebrae, where he and Luna went as children, having tea parties and pretending to be so much older than they were.

“You prefer this form, Chosen King,” Gentiana responds, her eyes closed as they always are. “I have seen it in your mind.”

“Well, yeah,” Noctis says wryly, figuring that since she can apparently read his mind, there's no harm in being honest. “Not only is it less associated with terrible memories, it also has the advantage that I don’t constantly feel like no matter where I put my eyes, I’m about to get punched. Or kicked in the balls, and deservedly.”

Gentiana smiles with a touch of wickedness.

“I knew you did it on purpose!” Noctis crows.

“There are advantages to be found in the prudery of mankind,” Gentiana says. She sits next to Noctis. “Do you remember this place?”

“Of course I do,” Noctis says. “Tenebrae. But the fields lie dead after the Long Night.”

“They do not remain so. The Night ends, and the Spring comes, and they grow once more, full and flourishing.”

“Is that supposed to be a metaphor?” Noctis asks, pulling his knees up to his chest and dropping his chin onto them – he doesn’t care if the pose makes him look like a child; Gentiana was there, years ago, when he was a child. “Something about the worship of the Six? Did Bahamut send you?”

“I have always loved humanity best,” Gentiana says, not answering Noctis’ question. He takes that as a yes. “I have always been its defender, and I – I alone – took up arms against the Empire in its might to protect the people of Lucis.”

“There is no more Empire,” Noctis says. “Just people, now. All of Eos has come together to fight the darkness, and that includes Niflheim.”

“You do not blame them for what they wrought?”

“Most of the people who did the, uh, wrought-ing are dead,” Noctis points out. “Many gruesomely. Those who remain disavow the works of their former leaders. I’m not going to hold it against them, especially if they’re not going to be dicks about it. Iggy and the others have done a really good job integrating everyone.”

“You forgive easily, Chosen King,” Gentiana says. “Even in the face of the memory of your father and your people, crushed beneath the Empire’s heel.”

“Are you trying to get me angry or something?” Noctis asks. “I was gone for ten years. Was it easy to swallow, the first time I understood? No. But I wasn’t here. I didn’t do the hard work; I didn’t make the hard choices. And I’m not going to question those that did. We have peace, Shiva - real peace, the sort of peace my father would have barely been able to even dream of. That’s worth a lot.”

“It is,” she conceedes, and the mask of Gentiana fades into the bright blue skin of the goddess – no, of the Astral – beneath. The temperature drops and Noctis feels his skin prickle as the icy winds of the winter begin to blow around them. They sit now picnicking upon a snowy field, the flowers covered, the trees dusted in frost. “And none of that would have happened without the Night. Why then do you turn your anger upon the Six?”

“The fact that good things happened out of a disaster doesn’t actually excuse you for your failure to do anything about it,” Noctis says, ignoring the changes. “Tell Bahamut that he’s not getting out of his own prophecy this time. The story is over. The book is closed.”

“And what of me, Chosen King, beloved of the Oracle?” Shiva asks, her eyes glowing. “Am I to be forgotten too, for all of my love of mankind?”

“You lived and died for humanity,” Noctis tells her, but his voice is gentler now, less angry than when he spoke to Bahamut. “Stories of your grace will be told forever. But your love of humanity has never been contingent on worship – or was Luna wrong to trust in you?”

A moment’s stillness, with no sound but the winter winds.

“The Oracle was not wrong,” Shiva says, and her voice is quiet. “I loved her dearly.”

“I know you did,” Noctis says. He’s always known. “You know, back when I thought my destiny involved marrying Luna, I thought to myself that it was good that you’d be there.”

Shiva looks up, eyes wide and surprised.

“We’d marry in Altissia, then come back to Insomnia,” Noctis says. “Luna’s duties as the Oracle would continue, while I would step up into my role as King-to-be, taking on more and more of the burdens of power. It’s a hard life to lead, being the Queen, and that on top of being the Oracle, far away from her home? I worried that I wouldn’t be able to help her. I worried that she’d be unhappy. And then I thought – no. She won’t be unhappy. She won’t be alone. She’ll have Gentiana, whom she loves.”

Shiva’s eyes close. Her eyelashes are white with frost, but Noctis suspects that if he brushed them now, the snowflakes that would fall would be made of salt.

“Luna believed in you,” Noctis says gently. “What would she think, now?”

“She always wanted to follow in your footsteps, Noctis of Lucis,” Shiva whispers, and Noctis thinks that may be the first time she’s ever seen him as a human being instead of a pawn on Bahamut’s divine chessboard. “Lunafreya was always humanity’s finest champion; you honor her with your actions now.”

And Shiva rises, color filling in her skin until she looks like Gentiana again.

“I will not stand in your path,” she says in her low, sweet voice. “You are right. My love for humanity must be unconditional, lest it be tainted.”

She reaches out and places a finger on Noctis’ lips.

“Go well.”

He wakes up.

In the third dream, he is in a forest.

It starts off like a normal dream, with shifts and changes and strange plots, but then a distinct sense of unreality filters through the dream and it changes. The lines of the trees grow stark and vivid, the bark and each blade of grass suddenly defined so clearly it almost hurts to look at them. Noctis inhales and his lungs fill with the scent of pine and maple and oak, the smell of rotting wood and the faint hints of ash, the comforting petrichor that follows a warm rain.

The sky, which was clear, is covered in clouds, dark and ominous, crawling from each side of the horizon until there's no more blue to be seen. There are flickers of lightning hiding within the clouds, but not a single sound, the dreamland utterly mute in anticipation.

Noctis knows who has come to visit him this time.

"Ramah," he says.

And the ground shifts beneath him, until Noctis finds himself standing on a mountain, looking out at the rolling, endless forests below, and upon the side of the mountain rests the gigantic silent figure of the Fulgarian.

Noctis looks up at him and squints. It’s hard to have a conversation with someone so large. It’s even harder to even think of how to start such a conversation.

“So,” Noctis says after some time has passed without Ramah saying anything. “Hi?”

Ramah says nothing, but Noctis thinks he might be amused, just a little.

Micro-expressions take on a whole new meaning when dealing with the Six.

“I assume you’re also here to demand that humanity worship you again?” Noctis asks.

Ramah shifts, and speaks, his voice as deep and rolling as the thunder.

“The storm comes,” says he. “The storm goes. It cares not for those in its path, but nor does it demand recognition from them.”

Noctis blinks.

That doesn’t sound like an appeal for worship.

“Bahamut sent me,” Ramah says, and his great forehead wrinkles. “He is the leader of the Six. But no one commands the storm.”

“I don’t understand,” Noctis says helplessly.

Ramah’s great face turns to look at him.

“My temples are the trees struck by lightning, that the lost traveler may seek shelter,” he says, and the sound of his voice is louder, now, the rushing of the wind through the trees, the crack of thunder, the inexorable floodwaters rising. “I need no sacrifices. I need no offerings. The Storm has been set in motion from the earliest of days, and the Storm will be there at the end of days, and though it may not be constant, it is everlasting.”

Noctis has to close his eyes briefly to protect himself from the rising wind and rain. “So,” he coughs out. “Does that mean you’re okay with this?”

Ramah rises to his feet.

“Let humanity do as it likes,” he declares, and his eyes are fixed on a point in the horizon. Noctis has the distinct feeling that the Fulgarian is no longer talking to him. “Ramah will not foresake his duties, not even in the face of the Dragon.”

And then he is gone.

“What the fuck just happened?” Noctis asks the air.

It doesn’t respond, and instead leads him down a pathway to a place where the deer have gathered to have tea, while the bears armor up for a daemon hunt.

Typical dream logic.

Noctis finishes the hunt – two weeks of work, all together, and he still hasn’t figured out how to deal with the plotters, because they are plotters. Schemers. He thinks they might actually be considering a coup, based on some easily dismissed hints they’ve dropped around him.

They’re fools if they think they can turn him against Ignis and Prompto and Gladio and Iris and Cor, of course, but he has the feeling that they might still give it a try.

He goes to visit Cindy before he heads back to Lestallum.

Cindy’s taste in clothing hasn’t changed much, and her physical, uh, presence remains just as, uh, striking as ever.

Okay, yes, fine, Noctis still spends a minute sneaking glances at her breasts. He might be a grown man, but those are impressive. He does stop it as soon as he realizes what he’s doing; that’s got to count for something.

He swears he can hear Shiva’s sniggering in his ear.

“You take care now,” she tells him. “Them boys missed you something awful, and the rest of us did too.”

“Thanks, Cindy,” Noctis says with a smile. “How are things going in Hammerhead?”

“Oh, just swell,” Cindy says, beaming. “The Engineering Corps are real fine, don’t you worry – you know, I never did think I’d become a teacher, but then again I don’t reckon anyone thought that of ol’ Gladio neither, so it works. Me and Eufiv, we swap off teaching with the real garage work.” She puts a hand on Eufiv’s shoulder – an old-style MT who looks at her with adoring eyes, and, well, Noctis isn’t going to hold that against him. Cindy has that effect on a lot of people. “I can’t bear to think of not having the old girl running.”

“The garage will outlive us both,” Eufiv says to her, and then, turning his head to Noctis, adds, “We have apprentices.”

“Real ones,” Cindy chimes in. “Ones that care about the work for the sake of the work – the garage work, that is, not the stuff the Engineering Corps needs to take care of. I didn’t think we’d ever get a chance to train people up in cars and engines, what with the need for other stuff, but, well, the Sun’s back up, and here we are.”

She punches Noctis on the arm lightly. “You keep up the good work, you hear me?”

Noctis smiles.

She insists he stay for dinner, which he does, so he only ends up coming into Lestallum when the Sun has long since gone down and everyone’s asleep.

Figuring he can make his report to Ignis in the morning – Iggy hates it when Noctis calls it that, because he’s kind of an idiot about protocol and goes on and on about how he should be making reports to Noctis not vice versa even though Noctis has explained to him that he’s cool with Ignis running everything and also maybe-kinda-sorta being Lucis’ chief spymaster as a hobby – Noctis crawls into his bed in the Official Residence.

He doesn’t even bother changing out of his clothes.

That’s a good thing, he thinks to himself, as he wakes up in the ruins of Altissia still wearing a layer or two of armor, the Leviathan rising above him in all of her terrible splendor.

No – not Altissia, he realizes, looking at it. Ruins, yes, but the columns and the statutary are of a different style, old and crumbled by the sea: copper gone green with exposure, stone faces slicked off by the currents, moss curling up the sides of buildings.

This is not Altissia.

This is –

“Atlantioi,” Noctis says, realizing. “The fallen city, the city beneath the waves.”

Existing in the time of the great Empire of Solheim, Atlantioi had been an island city-state, subordinate to the Empire but run independently. It had been particularly beloved of the Archean, Titan, who had helped build it alongside its citizenry; its destruction by Leviathan had resulted in a terrible feud between the two Astrals.

“A sign of what my wrath can do, pathetic morsel,” Leviathan spits, her wings fanning out, her serpentine body coiling with rage. “I granted you my power, and you turn it against us! You turn humanity against the Six!”

“I thought you wanted to eat all of humanity, Tidemother,” Noctis says, dodging one of her water-bursts. “Wasn’t that what you threatened in Altissia? The Feeding? Are we to think that you care so much about us now?”

“Insignificant pawn,” she hisses. “Lamb to the slaughter; you won over my power for Bahamut’s prophecy, and should have ended then!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Noctis says. “Aren’t you dead already?”

“Humanity has forgotten its place. First to demand power from a goddess, then to cast her aside!”

“You destroyed people,” Noctis says. She spits water at him, guiding it, and he has to run to dodge. He doesn’t think he can die in his dreams, but he’d really rather not find out for sure. “You destroyed Altissia, which was built in your honor! You let the Oracle fall because you were too busy whining about how humanity dared need you! Why should anyone honor you?”

She screams with fury, and lunges at him, massive jaws agape.

Noctis summons a sword – his favorite, the one Ignis and Prompto and Gladio had given him – and tries to parry her, even knowing that the task is likely hopeless.

The sword touches her scales, just barely, and suddenly Leviathan is throwing her head back, recoiling, flinching. The place where the sword hit her is colored sickly silver.

“What have you?” she shrieks. “A royal arm, created without the Six’s blessing? How?!”

Noctis glances at the sword, surprised. He remembers using it in the final battle against Ardyn – fourteen to thirteen – and he’s used it since then, for hunts and other things; it’s his favorite sword, remade in royal glory by his friends, but he hasn’t really thought much of it beyond that.

He sometimes uses it to cut his dinner when he’s feeling particularly lazy, and also because it makes Gladio fall off his chair laughing.

It occurs to him that maybe he should’ve been treating it with more respect, if it can do such damage.

But no, the sword is warm in his hand; he can feel it, suddenly. Warm, loyal and true, a little light-hearted, a little melancholy – it’s him in there, in the sword, his own personality reflected back at him.

It was made just for him. He’s been wearing the sword for months now; it knows him. It is him.

Noctis’ own Royal Arm.

He holds it up before him as the Hydrean thrashses before him, caught in her own ruinous rage.

“It is impossible,” she cries, the moaning of the sea in every harsh word. “The secret of the Arms has long been lost, but for those given by the blessing of the Six.”

Like the one his father had, Noctis remembers suddenly – his father had not had the sword forged for himself, but rather had received it from the Six as a gift upon his completing his own trial, washing up to his feet from the depths of a river, still shining with beauteous light.

A gift from the Six, as if they could make up for the torment they would impose upon him or the knowledge that his son would be doomed to die from the very beginning.

As a child, he’d always wondered why his father had not been more proud to be one of the bearers of the Thirteen; now he knows what his father did, that the gifts of the Six came with burdens and hidden strings attached.

“This sword was not a gift from the Six,” he shouts into the churning waves. “This sword was made by human hands, following the old ways, and if you attack me again, I will use it on you!”

“You cannot defeat me!” she shrieks.

“I’ve done it once already!”

“With the aid of the Six –”

“With the aid of the Empire,” Noctis shouts, pointing his sword at her. “It was the Empire that killed you, in the end! Humans defeated you! And if we need to, we’ll do it again!”

“I am the Hydrean,” she hisses. “The Tidemother. The Leviathan, as endless and enduring as the sea itself!”

“But you’re not the sea,” Noctis says, frustrated. “The sea will be worshiped by sailors, always, but you’re no sea goddess, beneficent and guiding. You gave that up years ago, succumbing to your endless wrath. All you are now is a sea monster, wrecking ships in your path for no cause but fury, and if humanity ever sees you again, so will you be treated!”

She screams again, but this scream is different from the others.

It’s not just rage.

It’s sorrow.

She acknowledges what he’s saying. She knows he’s right.

But she can’t stop being angry, not after so long.

“Go back beneath the waves!” Noctis calls to her. “Go back to being a story to delight children and to make sailors smile! Let them remember the Tidemother that was, long ago – return to the ruins of Atlantioi which you destroyed, and leave us be!”

Large hands reach out from beneath the waves.

Noctis remembers this part.

At Altissia, the Titan rose up to aid him from beneath the waves, and he cast his powers against the Leviathan, huge blocks rising from the deep to slam into her.

Here he does not do anything so gaudy.

His hands wrap around the Leviathan’s snake-like body in a terrible embrace, and he sinks back beneath the waves, slowly, inexorably: the fall of Atlantioi recreated once more, the Titan’s land drowning as the Leviathan screams in fury, but this time it is with the Astrals themselves.

They sink beneath the waves without another word.

And the world begins to disintegrate around Noctis, the ruins falling down and dissolving into dust, and he runs to escape it, but there’s nowhere to go, no land, no –

He wakes up, panting and covered in sweat.

It’s nearly dawn.

Noctis gets up on shaky automatic.

Ifrit's dead, he's pretty sure for good this time, so that's all of the Six that'll come haunting his dreams. They're all dead, actually, for all that they can't seem to accept it.

All but Ramah, who declared his neutrality, and Bahamut, who has not.

What is he doing?

What does he think he can accomplish?

Noctis goes outside. There's a hill just outside Lestallum that he likes to watch the sunrise from, in the instances where he's awake enough for it; he goes there. He still feels cold – colder than he did when the Glacian visited.

It's still dark out, but he's still dressed and has his sword, and anyway there aren't any daemons this close to Lestallum anymore.

He sits on the top of the hill and watches the stars fade out of the sky, wondering if he's insane to do what he's pretty sure he's been doing these last few nights. The Six want him to restore their worship, and as King he probably could do it, too, if he led by example. He's a legend in his own time, the Chosen King of the Six, the King in Exile of Lucis – and of the two he far prefers the latter. But he's refusing the Six's request, spurning them, rejecting them. On humanity's behalf, on his people's behalf – but isn't that the height of arrogance, thinking that he can speak for them against their own former gods?

And even if he's right to do it, that doesn't mean he has any hope of succeeding. Why does he think he can do this – hasn't history shown time and time again that those who go up against the Six ultimately falter?

"Technically false," a voice not dissimilar to Ignis' says from beside him. "The Empire of Niflheim defeated the Glacian, and you yourself defeated the Titan and the Leviathan, not to mention the shadow of Ifrit."

"I meant more long-term," Noctis says dryly, looking to his left. "Callidus."

The King once known as the Clever shrugs. "Your friends seem to be doing all right."

"As much as I hate to agree with the young whippersnapper, he has a point," Prudens, the Wise, says, settling his old ghost on Noctis' right. "The Kings have gone up against the Six before, you know, and sometimes they've been right to do so. The Six are powerful, but they're neither omniscient nor omnipotent, and you do your people a disservice if you think so."

"I suspect the Mystic and the Pious might disagree with you," Noctis says.

"Your suspicions are unfounded," Pius says. He's sitting on the hillside a ways down. "I revered the Six, and honored them at their temples, but I was called the Pious because I built the first of the royal tombs to honor my forefathers."

"You agree with what I'm doing, then?"

"If we didn't, we wouldn't have told your friends the secret of forging a royal arm," Aequitas the Just says. "It is not our place to interfere with the present."

"You knew what I would do?"

"No one may know the future for certain," Aspicio says, the Oracle Queen who is most likely to know the truth of that statement. "But we hoped."

"I kept us hidden from the sight of the Six," Furs, the Rogue, Queen of the Shadows, puts in. "And the others did the rest."

“But why didn’t it happen before?”

"The prophecy of Bahamut was given to the Kings of Lucis alongside the ring and the Crystal," Magus, the Mystic, says, his voice heavy. "By accepting one, we accepted the others; they cannot be separated."

“The prophecy had to be fulfilled,” Supero the Conqueror agrees. “And so it was, through generation upon generation, until at last it came to be fulfilled in you. But being fulfilled, the bindings of the prophecy fall away.”

"Each man's life should be his own," Peregrinus the Wanderer says.

"Not the Six's," Militus the Warrior agrees.

"Yeah," Ferus the Fierce grunts. "Fuck 'em."

"Ferus!" Supero snaps, but Longus the Tall just laughs.

“We’re with you,” Longus tells Noctis, his voice still amused. “We were Kings once, too –”

“And Queens,” Aequitas says mildly.

“Kings and Queens,” Longus amends. “Our duty is to the people first, above all else. You did what the Six wanted because it was the right thing to do, eliminating the Scourge, and when it was done you were saved though the inventions of your people.”

“It is your people now that cast off the Six,” Militus says. “You protect their decisions, as you ought.”

“So, you know,” Callidus says. “Fuck ‘em.”

Pius sighs.

Noctis laughs a little, but the laugh dies in his throat and he swallows before turning his eyes to the last of the figures, standing just down the hill.

Atavus, the others called him; the ancestors. He who bore the Sword of the Father, and that really should’ve given Noctis a heads up that his destiny was something different than what he’d dreamt of as a kid, shouldn’t he? The Father, which meant that he, Noctis, was the Son…

Atavaus, Regis, the Father, is smiling at him.

“You approve?” Noctis asks, and his voice is small. This is his father; the man he idolized as a child, loved as an adult, and the man Noctis convinced to stab him in the heart with his sword so that the Accursed could finally be destroyed and the Scourge ended.

“Always,” his father says. “No matter what path you chose, I would approve; I would be proud. You have always made me proud.”

Noctis smiles.

“And what do you really think?” he jokes.

His father laughs, a side-splitting bellow. “You are my son,” he says. “My Noctis. You can do anything you want, Six or no Six; that’s how I raised you. Go forth and stand tall.”

Noctis closes his eyes and smiles as the first rays of dawn fall upon his face.

“Noctis!”

He opens his eyes.

Prompto is coming up the hill, waving.

The ghosts of the Kings are gone.

“Hi, Prompto,” Noctis says, smiling.

“Want some company?” Prompto asks. “You’ve got some.”

He nods behind him.

Noctis looks, and smiles to see Gladio and Ignis strolling up the hill. Ignis isn’t even using his cane.

“Hey, guys,” he says.

“How did the hunt in Hammerhead go?” Ignis asks. “And please, save the full report for a more human hour. A summary will do.”

Noctis laughs. “I think I’ve got an idea on how to solve the hunter problem,” he says. “But there’s some assholes who spent a lot of their lives being rich and powerful that aren’t too pleased at the idea of having to share that wealth and power with everyone else, and I’m not too sure about what to do about them. Oh, and we got all the daemons, too.”

“Good job,” Gladio says.

“Knew you’d get the hang of the whole King thing eventually,” Prompto jokes, sitting down next to Noctis – right where Callidus had been sitting, actually.

Ignis settles in on Noctis’ left, where Prudens had been sitting. “In fact, Noctis has been doing an exemplary job,” he says. “Particularly in terms of unifying the scattered people of Eos into a single country once again, which I assume is the aim of your planned trips next month to Accordo and Tenebrae and Niflheim?”

“Hey, if we have an opportunity to put aside old feuds, I don’t see what’s wrong with taking advantage of it,” Noctis says, smiling. “People have moved forward a lot during the last ten years. There’s a chance to do what nobody’s done since Solheim, a truly united Eos, and without all the violence Emperor Ieldolas was using to do it, too.”

“It’d be a shame not to try,” Gladio agrees. “So if everything’s going well, what’s got you up here at the crack of dawn? It’s not exactly like you.”

Trust Gladio to notice.

Noctis takes a deep breath and tells them all about it: what he’d noticed, the dreams, the ghosts, everything.

“I agree with them,” Prompto says. “The ghosts, I mean. Fuck the Six; isn’t that right, Ignis?”

“I regret using a profanity,” Ignis says, long-suffering. “If only because you will never let me forget it.”

“It was reasonable under the circumstances,” Gladio says peaceably. “If you want my vote, Noct, you’re doing the right thing.”

Noctis nods slowly. “I think so too,” he confesses. “And I think – I think this is what I want to do.”

“What do you mean?” Prompto asks.

“Refusing to worship the Six does seem like a fairly passive role,” Ignis says.

Noctis rolls his eyes. “No, I mean – I like what I’m doing now, talking with people, going around, trying to make peace and unity. I don’t mind being mostly a figurehead, with Ignis and the Council working out most of the rules – yes, Ignis, I read your proposal about being the executive branch and using the Council as a legislature, but I really do think you’d be better at it than me.”

“If we kept the Council as the executive, and started up a wider body as a legislative, complete with voting, that could deal with the problem you mentioned earlier,” Gladio says. “The rich men who feel like they were robbed. Let them get all their energy out trying to get elected to office.”

“It’s worth considering,” Ignis says. “But I’m more interested in finding out what Noct proposes that he’ll be doing in a mostly figurehead monarchy.”

“Bahamut’s still alive,” Noctis says. “The only one of the Six that’s still alive and has an interest in getting humanity back to the way things were.”

“Hiding away in the Crystal the entire time helps with that,” Prompto says, rolling his eyes. “I guess. So what?”

“He wants humanity’s worship,” Noctis says. “We don’t want to give it to him. He might be content with sending me dreams for the moment, but after a while, he’s going to get impatient. And when he does, he’s going to use all of that power to try to force us back. And I don’t intend to let him.”

“How?” Gladio asks, practical as ever.

“Four of the Six are dead,” Noctis says. He puts his hand on his sword. “If Bahamut starts something, I guess it’s time to slay the dragon.”

“Going up against the Draconian,” Ignis muses. “And uniting all of Eos. You don’t think small, do you?”

“Afraid not,” Noctis says, and sitting there in the light of the dawn of the Sun he rescued, with his friends at his side, it feels right. The questions he’s been having, the concerns, they all fade away, and he feels warm. “You with me?”

“Always,” Ignis says.

“We’ll be by your side the whole way there,” Gladio says.

“You better not leave us behind for another ten years this time,” Prompto says. “That’s all I’m saying.”

“I promise,” Noctis says. “This time, we go together.”

He looks back away from the wilderness, down at the ever-growing metropolis of Lestallum. They have plans to re-enter Insomnia soon and then to expand the pathways between the cities – maybe a nation-wide public transporation system, even, with care taken to protect and prepare each area in case the Long Night and the daemons came back again.

They’re looking at a brand new chapter in human history.

“All of us,” he says, thinking of them: his people. Humanity. “This time, we all go together.”

#final fantasy xv #ffxv #prompto argentum #noctis lucis caelum #ignis scientia #gladiolus amicitia #mt soldiers #my fic

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tristinleighhh · 5 years ago

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✨☀️ my heart & soul are so full.

This was truly the best experience of my life. Envision is something else. I danced and sweat out every negative energy that I had stored away before I came here. I feel like a new person..

🌊 I loved the whole vibe of the Uvita area. Everyone was so nice. I've missed the salty air in my hair and on my lips. Being surrounded by the jungle and the ocean is a euphoric feeling. 🐟 I ate a lot of good fish outside the festival and I am definitely missing it. I loved the fresh fruits and coconuts everywhere 🥥🌴🍍🍌🍓

🏕️ our air b&b was just a couple minutes away from the festival and our host Jose was the nicest human ever. He was constantly making sure everything was perfect for us and coming back to get sleep in the ac was prime. I'm very glad we did that. Cabinas yuriel 💛💚❤️☁️

🐳 we went on a whale watching tour and we're blessed to see a male and a mama and her baby playing around! Humpback whales are my flavorite animal and I haven't seen them since I was in Hawaii so it was an epic treat.

🌄Then Dan and I watched our last Costa Rican sunset for the trip and took a nice stroll home. On the way we saw a sloth in the tree, a crazy poisonous snake and a gnarly looking centipede. 🐍🌙

I have fallen in love with envision and everything it stands for and for the beautiful country of Costa Rica. I will be back there's no doubt about that. I want to explore everything. Thankful for this trip and all the lessons learned and friends I met along the way. Until next time 🥥✨ Pura Vida ✨🥥

✨ Top Envision Moments & Music ✨

🔥 the sunset and fire spinners on the beach with the drum circle. I had hoped to spin some fire down there but I'll be a little more prepared next time.. you walk up the path onto the beach and you are met with various vendors with cool bones and jewelery, cheap beer and food as you emerge into a sea of people on the sand. The sky was on fire and the vibes were hiiiigh. The drum circle was tribal and euphoric. Looking around me being surrounded by jungle and ocean and beautiful people was straight bliss.

•

🍄 seeing Paul staments talk about mushrooms. I only caught one but it was so cool to hear him share his stories and experiences with us.

•

🍽️💦the dishcoteque

The waste at this festival was pretty much non existent. It always makes me sad how people can leave a place so destroyed and covered in trash. I had to pick up no trash from the ground and all the volunteers who were picking up trash barely had anything in their buckets. When you got food at any vendor here you received an actual dish, bowl, silverware or cup. When you were done you'd bring it to the "dishcoteque" and recieve a voucher for your next one. No plastic at all barely any paper products besides some paper straws .. the bathrooms also did not have toilet paper in them.. you had to get it from the outside and bring it with you so they were not overflowing with paper and and overuse of products.

•

✨🎨✨ the art & the stages

There was so much phenomenal art. I was blown away by the murals everywhere and the art gallery was bursting with talent and creative energy.

The bars and booths were all made from the materials surrounding them. Everything was made from the earth. The Sol stage was surrounded by a beautiful design with a big screen in the back that had really awesome visuals on it

The lapa stage was filled with house n deep techno vibes all day and night. It felt like something out of an epic movie in there with all the mist and the lights. The entrance to the beach was right there too. It was a great place to go to just dance and chill out. And finally... The Luna stage. W o w. The most incredible stage I've EVER seen in my life and I've seen quite a few cool stage setups. It was a huge tower of Earth and wood and vines and beauty. There was a portal where people danced behind. The lighting was a1 from the lasers to the mapping on the funktions. It was truly other worldly there. I will be riding the high of that stage for a long time. There was water refill stations in all the right spots which made staying hydrated in the jungle heat so easy.

•

🌮🍓🍦🥑🥙 the food

It's usually hard for me to eat at festivals lately because I don't eat meat anymore. Chicken fingers was always a go to for me but I've sadly become very picky. Everyone was pretty accommodating to my needs ( I wish I thought about asking for no cilantro before the last day 😞 I hate that shit )and everything was so nourishing and healthy. I have not been eating well lately and I feel so nice and full after all the smoothies and juicy goodness I ingested over the weekend.

•

🕷️ the huge tarantula like spider that happened to wander through the crowd of people dancing with the bass vibrating the floor and onto our blanket. It was SO BIG how did you even make it through the crowd?! Stealthy dude. That was wild.

•

☕🍵The tea party!

I went to the bathroom and I came across a tiny but huge tea party. Everyone had tea cups along a very small rectangle table/stool and they were singing jungle tea time jungle tea time and cheersing to life it was so cute

•

🎭🤸‍♀️🔥💃 the performers...

Wow. I haven't seen performances like that ever. Every collective blew my mind they all had a vibe of their own and absolutely slayed it on stage. Serious inspiration

•

🎶🔊 the music

Every set was so good. Nothing was like oh that was cool .. everything i was was so we'll put together and everyone definitely out out jungle vibes.

•

I'll just put this first in case you don't want to read all the way cause this was my flavorite part 💓

👽 Tipper 👽

This was my 30th show.. in the jungle...and the Luna stage couldn't have been any better. He played so many fat unreleased tracks and vips I have never heard before. Serious deep jungle vibes. I can honestly say that was my flave set I've seen by him so far. There were no visuals but I was so okay with that. the lights were so on point and the performers were so freaking good and well paired with what he was putting out. I am sooooo freaking thankful for that experience and to have had it with all my tipper family. This community has Brought me all over the country and now out of the US. I am constantly overstimulated and it's just getting more intense as I get older so traveling can be difficult for me. The high energy if the airport is a lot for me. Music festivals are even a lot for me but I eventually get comfortable..I just love the epic moments of euphoria through music and these experiences that I'll push myself through the rest of it. The way tippers music makes me feel is so worth trooping through a sea of energies to get to that moment. It's truly beautiful for me and I know others feel the same. Blessed to be alive for the making of tipper music

•

Thursday

✨ the first real full set of music we saw was jpod.. someone ive never listened to and I'm so glad I know about him now. It was so fun I found all my friends and it was the perfect way to kick off the weekend.

✨Naughty princess was someone I didn't know as well and she threwwwww down a dirty heavy dubstep set. It was proper as fuck and she looked like a boss in the dj booth.

✨Honerable mention to Govinda and an-ten-ae

✨🔮Clozees first set on Friday night was so surreal. Seeing her live is a true experience. It got so heavy and blissful it was by far my flavorite set I've seen from her. She's so humble and cute and beyond excited to be doing this for us. When she plays she emmits such a powerful feminine vibe. The high that gave me was super intense.

✨ Honerable mention to

Stylust beats with the filthy dubstep set

Nico luminous

And attya to close was super smooth

•

Saturday

✨ The funk hunters played two sets. The but their Saturday night set on the Luna stage was so fire. They're so fun and energetic

✨ Random rab was so beautiful. Probably the most beautiful performance I've seen by him yet. His voice is absolutely amazing.

✨LAZY SYRUP ORCHESTRA...... If you don't know them please go listen to their sets on SoundCloud. The sun had risen and the people were vibin.. 6am set - ???? It was so freaking good ahhhh words can't even decribes

They're all so talented I want to return to that moment forever.

Going to the beach and jumping in the ocean after that was so freaking cooooooool.

✨Honerable mention to symbolico for throwing down two dope sets & moontricks on the Sol stage

•

Sunday

✨ Drrtywulvs ... Wowza. That was so fun and uplifting.. all the booty shaking..I love his music and all the noises. It always makes my body move in the weirdest of ways.

✨SUPERTASK..he's one of my flavorite artists ever and he threw downnnnnnnnn such a dope set in the jungle.

✨ SOOHAN was everything I wanted. His music makes me dance in all the best ways

✨🌄 Clozees played a sunrise set @ 545 and it was beautiful. She was very downtempo and played a lot of slower vibe songs.. it was perfect and blissful.

✨ and finally emancipator. They are forever one of my flavorites. They played at 7 am and closed out the Luna stage with the most magical morning vibes. I feel like they played a lot of new music and it was a perfect way to bring down the high energy from the night

✨Honerable mention to dirtwire on the Sol stage who pulled me out of my funk bc of the rain I love their music so much and Seeing them live is a huge treat.

If you've made it this far thanks for reading! Envision is my new flavorite place and I am already counting down the days until I can go back. ✨🥥

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runesandfaes · 7 years ago

Text

Spell-Cleaver’s Grove

Content: Elucien first date fic. Very fluffy and magical.

Rating: SFW

Word Count: 3,750 words

Link on Ao3

I have been dying to write something Elucien because I love my babies so, so much but couldn’t come up with a prompt till finally, I could. I feel like I could have done better, but I absolutely love the setting and this fic and my heart is very full right now. Also if you enjoy it, please don’t forget to like, reblog and leave a comment, thank you so much c: A special shout-out to Luiza ( @cassiancalore ) for pitching me ideas for the crap the Inner Circle puts Lucien through. Love you babe <3 -CONTAINS ACOWAR SPOILERS REGARDING LUCIEN-

Today, Elain walked in on tears streaming down Lucien’s uncharacteristically blotchy, red face. The Inner Circle were all already at Rita’s, given she arrived a little late and could now see Mor, Cassian and Feyre breathless with laughter and noticed Azriel and Rhys in a corner with their hands clamped over their mouths. Nesta and Amren both had smirks on their faces as they watched her mate with amusement. Lucien however, was downing glass after glass of milk and wiping at his face indignantly to rub away the sweat beading across his forehead and upper lip, cursing with absolutely no filter at his companions; well, as much as he could between the drinking and swollen mouth and tongue.

“Seems like you don’t have fire running through your veins after all, Fox Boy” said Rhys with a sly grin.

Lucien on the contrary, fixed him with a hard glare and said, “Don’t tempt me to prove you wrong.” The sentiment didn’t sound quiet as threatening as he’d like it to be considering his current state. Rhys just chuckled.

“What’s going on?” asked Elain. Suddenly, everyone seemed to notice she had walked in-none more aware of her presence than the auburn-haired Fae. The moment he became alert of her appearance was the moment he went completely still and wide-eyed; an absolutely mortified look on his face.

“There’s the lady of the night” Feyre smiled at her as she came to embrace her. Elain returned it quite distractedly, her eyebrows scrunched up in confusion as she asked them again what was happening.

“Well, our little Lord here was trying to prove his undying devotion and worthiness of you by trying to down an entire bowl of Rita’s spiciest food available-to, you know, confirm he indeed had fire running through his veins; just as you asked us to let him know, earlier.” Cassian winked as he responded.

“I’m not your ‘Little Lord’” Lucien said through gritted teeth as he looked down, the redness off his face now slightly giving away to his natural, tanned skin again.

“I—what?” Elain, got out, completely baffled. “I never asked you to-OH, NOT AGAIN YOU GUYS.”

This had been going on for weeks now. Ever since Lucien decided that he’d wanted to take her out on a date and formally court her after they finally got to talking one day, and she thought it would be fun to make him wait around and work for it a bit, the Inner Circle made it their personal mission to make Lucien do the most ridiculous things possible and make a fool of himself. They decided to tell him things they assumed Elain would adore and Lucien, even though unsure and skeptical, gave those a go JUST IN CASE she was into them. She wasn’t and the entire situation was comical but she did in her heart feel a little bad for him.

Last week, Feyre let him know that Elain had a complete weakness for well-sculpted, oiled up, thighs and thought it would be sexy if he dressed in a panel of clothing, similar to the one Feyre wore Under the Mountain, which would put his assets entirely on display. And he did exactly that, showing up in front of her in a black, silk article of clothing covering his behind and manhood and splitting to reveal most of his muscled chest and torso, held in place by a loose weapons belt. She’d never seen him look this embarrassed and the sight of him immediately made her blush intensely-though she had to admit, he did have impressive thighs-amongst other things.

Lucien, to his credit, immediately started apologizing to her as soon as he noticed how uncomfortable it made her and made a point to cover himself up and didn’t stop till Elain assured him that he was forgiven.

This was just one of many of those incidents and tonight again, they decided to bait him. When Lucien realized Elain didn’t ask this of him yet again, he just gaped at them, frustration starting to rise to the surface of his face. She genuinely felt bad for him by now and was finally ready to give him the chance to court her, so she warmed up to him finally. She placed a hand on her waist and with the other, she rubbed her forehead, exasperated. They were all a bunch of children, no matter how many centuries old they might be, she thought shaking her head.

“All right you all, you tortured him enough. No, Lucien, I didn’t ask them to let you know to do any of the things they keep making you do” she glared at them as she spoke and finally, at her mate “but I appreciate the effort you put in each time. So, I think it’s time you gain a little something from them.” She lowered her hand from her forehead and smiled up at him. Something inside her melted as she saw the glimmer of hope ignite behind his russet eye and his metal one started whirring and saw his entire face lighten up; the ordeal from a few minutes ago complete vanished from his mind. Elain approached him shyly, never breaking her gaze from his and Lucien too, stood up and proceeded to meet her halfway. When they were just mere inches apart, Lucien took her hand in his and held it gently. “Would you do me the honor of gracing me with your company for an evening, my fair lady?” he asked Elain with a lopsided smile, charming as ever.

Elain gave a light laugh and agreed to it. At her confirmation, he brought her hand to his lips and placed a feather-like kiss at the back of it. She immediately averted her eyes and a faint smudge of color tainted her cheeks at the courteous gesture.

She heard the Inner Circle complaining about having to stop messing with Lucien now but could see in their faces that they were all somewhat glad for the pair-except Nesta, who looked pretty indifferent. Mor just shrugged and said “Eh, it worked, didn’t it? You finally convinced her to go on a date with you.” she grinned at Lucien who just grumbled. “I say we were successful”. With that, the group dispersed for the night, going their own ways, leaving Elain and Lucien behind. They walked back to the townhouse together in comfortable silence. Just before they were about to go to their own respective bedchambers however, Lucien stopped her with a hand on her wrist.

“We’ll leave after breakfast tomorrow. It might be a long day. Is that okay?” he asked her earnestly.

“What are we doing?”

“It’s a surprise. You’ll see” he grinned.

“But...no hints? What should I wear?” Honestly, he now had her interest piqued and she itched to know where he was taking her, but knew he wouldn’t crack. So she tried to grasp a hint from the attire she’d be donning on.

“Whatever you wish to wear, Elain.” She was still getting used the way it made her feel whenever she heard him say her name-the lilt of his tongue, the depth of his voice and the way it made her yearn to keep hearing it.

She nodded.

He smiled at her softly again and they wished each other goodnight. Elain wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but she was squirming with excitement about tomorrow and she realized she was looking forward to spending the day with her mate; however that might be.

The morning breeze carried in the sweet smell of roses and the various other flowers Elain had planted in her little garden on her terrace, and cocooned her as she woke from her slumber. It took her a few minutes to get her bearings straight and when she realized what day it was, she sprung up and out of her bed to clean up, take a bath and look her best. It still felt foreign to her, the butterflies that formed in her stomach at the thought of her date with Lucien. She still didn’t know where they were going but she decided to dress a little bolder today-from her armoire, she picked out a dress she had been aching to wear for weeks. Not too scandalous, but still far from the modest attires she was used to wearing. It was an off-the shoulder white gown, printed on with colorful floral designs, that spilled around her graciously on to the floor. The bodice and waistline were snugly fitted around her body, outlining her slim waist and displaying her bare shoulders, collarbones and a hint of cleavage.

Outfits like this were a little new to her, but ever since she started getting used to her transformation, she decided to try new things on as well-and when she was out roaming the town with Mor and Feyre one day, she saw this simple, yet elegant dress on display and it just called to her. Without any hesitation, she bought it and ever since then, it stood in her closet, unworn and untouched. She never quiet found the right occasion to wear it-until today of course.

With some help from Nuala and Cerridwen, Azriel’s shadow-wraiths and spies, who had gotten very dear to Elain in the recent months, she arranged her hair golden-brown hair to remain unbound over her shoulder in some loose waves, shaping her face beautifully. She applied a hint of rouge on her lips and cheeks for some color and set off to the dining room to greet the rest of her family.

Lucien was waiting in the dining hall table with the rest of the Inner Circle, seemingly keeping a calm demeanor but was extremely fidgety on the inside with his nerves on high alert. He had prepared a picnic basket for him and Elain to have lunch with help from Feyre, who helped him pack his mate’s favorite delicacies. He had never been one for anxiousness and was almost always confident while courting a lady, but this time was different. This was his mate and their relationship, whatever of it there was, was still very delicate; he didn’t want to mess it up before anything even began. He had planned this day out ever since he discovered his true lineage-as the sole heir to the Day Court. The moment he entered where he intended to take her today during his travels, he was mesmerized-his first thought was of Elain and how much she would adore this, from what he knew about her. So, it wasn’t too hard to decide how he wanted to spend the day with her.

The male was rummaging through him stream of thoughts when her scent hit him and his heart stopped as he looked up. She was gorgeous with her floral white gown, intricately detailed with bursts of color- a stark contrast against her pale skin. Loose strands of her hair framed her lovely, delicate face which held a hint of blush. He honestly tried not to, but his eyes nonetheless dipped below her face descending down the column of her neck to her exposed shoulders and the curves of her breasts, making Lucien’s breath hitch as he forced himself to drag his eyes up to meet her own brown ones, which he found to some satisfaction, following his every move.

Before Lucien could speak up, her sisters broke the silence by proceedin to wish her a good morning and then fawning over her outfit, Mor joining in with them soon enough.

“Good morning, Elain” Lucien finally said as a way of greeting, smiling up at her from his seat. She returned the gesture and grabbed the seat opposite his and started on her breakfast.

After one good hour, they were finally set to go. As a goodbye, Feyre told Lucien to not give her much trouble and then proceeded to wink at him and winnow away to Cauldron knows where. He was waiting for Elain on the doorstep of the townhouse when she made her appearance.

“Shall we?” Lucien asked his mate as he offered her his arm. Nodding, she placed her hand on the crook of his elbow and he told her to hold steady as he winnowed them away.

Elain wasn’t really sure where she was but she knew for certain it wasn’t the Night Court. The entire feel of this place was different from what she was used to and was eager to know where she stood.

“Where are we?” She asked Lucien. “The Spell-Cleaver’s Grove of the Day Court. I discovered this place after I had just found out Helion was my father and I finally started accepting the fact, figuring I might as well embrace it. So I decided to roam around a bit when I stumbled upon this place and fell in love with it instantly” he rambled on wistfully, which Elain found a little adorable. “I hope you’ll find this place to your liking and find it in your heart to return the sentiment”. He looked down at her and smiled a little nervously.

The place WAS lovely, Elain had to admit. Under the canopy of tall, majestic trees, a path was laden out for them, completely covered in a blanket of wildflowers so vibrant in its diversity in colors that it sung to her senses. She was enthralled by their beauty and kept on walking forward, her eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. She was mesmerized by the tantalizing smell of the flowers and shrubs, of the eerie calm and the rays of afternoon sunshine darting their way through the gaps within the trees. She had never seen anything like this before. As they walked, they chatted a little and Lucien told her of the various plants and blossoms that bloomed here and across Prythian, having her completely hooked in his words and craving more. He told her of his own love for the wilderness as she noticed his face come alive with light, looking exactly like the Prince he was at this court.

He asked Elain about her own life, her hobbies and where her love for gardening stemmed from. And somehow, for Cauldron knows what reason, this grove made her come alive too and she told Lucien of her life and of her passions and what she aspired to come out of it. Lucien listened with complete dedication and it was a pleasant conversation filled with light laughter and stolen glances. The topic about his last few weeks’ ordeal was also brought up, of the hilarious antics the Court of Dreams put him through. Lucien’s ears and neck were a rich shade of crimson with embarrassment and Elain was breathless from chuckling too much, reassuring him eventually that it was perfectly fine, though he looked utterly ravishing in the black dress. Lucien thanked her sarcastically, saying if she did indeed find it so beguiling, he should give his wardrobe a change. He earned a smack on his arm in response and just laughed a deep, throaty laugh that reverberated deep through her bones.

In the distance, she could now make out the end of this long path and could notice the trees giving way to an open platform-like place. Her newly attuned Fae hearing could now pick up sweet, melodious tunes floating to their direction, drawing her in. She had never heard music like this before and it made her want to close her eyes, throw her head back and sway on her feet. This grove was absolutely enchanting; a thing of fairy tales and dreams. And her mate had just made it real for her.

“Songbirds” he whispered in her ear, his breath brushing against her neck, making her shiver. They had reached the end of their path and she could now see that the platform-like place she observed from far away was surrounded in a circle by large rune-stones.

“Would you like to dance?” Lucien had moved from beside her and into the hollow place between the stones and was offering her his hand with a grin on his face-his previous nervousness dialed down to more genuine glee.

Without any hesitation, Elain look his hand and let him guide her forward. As soon he place his hand on her small of her back and pulled her close, his scent hit her and she almost lost control. He smelled of the forest and wild things and it was absolutely bewitching, stirring something deep within her. Taking the lead, he twirled them around in sync to the music from the songbirds, enveloping them as the tune grew more and more intense. She suddenly saw her surroundings brightening up and realized it was the rune-stones, glowing brighter with every step of theirs. She caught Lucien’s eye and saw his pupil widen with surprise, the metal one whirring again- but as soon as he caught her gaze, he quickly masked his features back to delight. She didn’t know how, but she somehow just FELT her mate’s magic coursing through him and suddenly erupting around them, manipulating the light and the rays-making them bend and dance to the music of his own magic; Elain realized she had never seen anything quite so unique and captivating. The beauty of his play on lights had her in thrall and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from it. She could feel Lucien watching her the entire time, that hint of nervousness back in his gait-as if seeking confirmation to see if she enjoyed them as he waltzed them around one last time, dipping and whirling her to her utter joy that a delighted laugh escaped her mouth.

Lucien finally brought her back up and they gazed at each other, both panting from lost breath, but absolutely ecstatic. Elain had tears shining in her eyes from everything she just experienced and was at a loss for words to let him know what all this meant to her. That he conjured up something so foreign, something of her dreams and made it so real. So she stood up on her tiptoes, placed her arms around his neck and pulled him down to place a firm yet soft kiss on his cheek, projecting her gratitude and affection in it. His arms around her waist seemed to stiffen initially due to his surprise at her gesture but then he pulled her close, his eyes crinkling shut and his lips forming a slight, boyish smile.

When the stones had started shining in the grove during their dance, it did indeed take Lucien by surprise. He had heard tales of this- of those rune-stones becoming luminous whenever a couple who were truly destined, whose souls and hearts were one, danced among them but he never believe it, not really. Not till he saw it with his own eyes and his heart had skipped a beat. They were glowing for him-for him and his mate, letting him know they weren’t just selected for breeding powerful children but that their hearts beat as one; that they’d be able to love each other with no end. By the end of the evening, he had no doubt they could, for this woman, his mate, was headstrong and genuine and lovely. Her hidden strength that not many acknowledged, her humor, her passion, her utter positivity was staggering and he felt honored to even get to spend this day with her. It had been a long, long time since he felt this at peace and he was not going to question it. Not that he was going to tell Elain about the stones and their legend either; no, he’d let her choose, let her make her choice. Let her decide if she wanted to love him and give him the honor of sharing her heart because she deserved everything and more. And perhaps if she someday did, he’d tell her.

A better part of that afternoon was then spent in that grove with them having lunch and laughing and talking some more. At one point, some pixies and forest nymphs appeared and left flower crowns for them both which Lucien put on their heads with much enthusiasm. The male looked regal in it and she promised herself she’d weave one for him from her gardens one day. He did take her out to explore the Day Court a bit, which was extravagant in its own way and she loved it. They got some ice cream from a cafe on the town and Elain decided that one could never have enough of it. Lucien did finally winnow them back to Velaris by dusk and was content with dropping her home but she wasn’t. She wanted more-she wanted more of this male’s company and warmth and stories. So she asked him to stay and he complied happily. They grabbed some dinner from Rita’s and took a walk by the bank of the Sidra, finding a quiet, secluded spot under the stars. It was getting a little chilly and Lucien wrapped her in his jacket, carrying Elain’s thoughts back to the first time he ever did that. Shadows suddenly appeared in her eyes at the memory and Lucien was quick to take notice. He lay down a blanket on the ground for them to sit on and Elain finally opened up to him about her struggles and the hard days. She had Lucien reciprocate the gesture by sharing his own hardships with his family, with Tamlin and Under the Mountain. He told her of his scar and him metal eye and of friends he made throughout his time. They shared the stories of lost love, of Jesminda and Graysen, of their own insecurities and heartaches. Elain’s heart went out to the male beside her but she never pitied him-no, she thought he was one of the strongest people she ever had the good fortune of meeting and one of the kindest and felt herself connect to him in a way she did with no one else.

They talked and talked well into the night, till only the stars and their own heartbeats remained as company. Sometime during their conversation, the mates had fallen asleep beside each other, their fingers intertwined. Elain’s head was tucked into Lucien’s shoulder, nestling in his warmth and just before sleep took him too, he stole a glance at his sleeping mate’s face-completely calm and carefree, and realized he’d be glad to have this everyday for the rest of his immortal life.

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