#but I don't think choosing like the distant or quiet or cold choice should have a negative impact on that relationship

[burning-academia-if]

Hey, I just remembered something!

I think you said ???'s romance is not possible on the Day path? I'm not interested in them (well, that way, I mean) anyway, so it won't be an issue to me romance wise, but is it actually possible to have a good or at least decent relationship with them on the Day path, or not even that? And well, that applies to any RO if the MC is on a path incompatible with their romance I guess (though I don't remember if others were in that case).

Of course, feel free to ignore this one if it's too spoilery to answer though!

On a (I think) less spoilery note about the paths and ROs, will the paths impact how the possible romances pan out? Or not so much? Or will it depend on the character?

Anyway, thank you for entertaining my multiple questions on that matter. It seems it's endlessly fascinating to me!

Yep! So basically you can "romance" ??? on Day path but it's more a doomed romance/tragedy then an actual romance. The only other character this happens with is Rhea on Night path. I think I mentioned before but this is more a 'theme-driven' story then anything else and the characters represent the exact opposite themes of those paths, essentially. (Also again, I'm not promising anything in regards to poly routes, but on the off-chance I do, they'll be path specific for this very reason. Beck x MC x Rook would be locked to Dawn and Day for example). ALSO quick edit forgot to mention, but even outside of romance, it will still play out like a tragedy if you have a high friendship stat with them.

As for the paths, they will play like completely separate routes/story lines that splinter off after a certain point. Basically, you'll hit a key plot point and whatever your path is set on at that point locks you into that arc. Because the plot/events will be unique to each path (save for a few key ones), the romances for each path will play out differently as well! Romancing say ??? in the Dawn Arc vs the Night Arc is a completely different experience for example, it also lets me (and the player) explore different faucets of their personality.

Most of the details I'm still figuring out and I know a lot of what I have written down may change, but everything stated above is officially set!

[adrianasunderworld]

🧡Dragon!RaihanxReader🧡

Drakes Keep

The townspeople live in fear of the dragon in the forest and have decided to make you the sacrifice to save them all. But perhaps the dragon isnt something to fear after all.

      This was how it ends. You thought to yourself as night descended. The only sound was the occasional breeze rustling the branches or the distant howl of a dog. You tried once again in vain to wriggle from the rope that kept you tied to the tree. Letting the back of your head hit the trunk with a thump, you bit your lip and finally allowed yourself to cry. This really was the end. 

       A dragons supper, that was your fate. The creature that called the abandoned castle home had returned, and the fear of what it could do had sent the townspeople into hysterics. Turning to the old ways once more to keep it appeased. Unfortunately for you, that had meant you were the one tossed to the beast. The old stories spoke of fair maidens and kings sons bravely sacrificing themselves for the better of others. But of course no one wanted to send their beloved children to death. But you? Orphaned and thieving,___? No one opposed that. And now you stood, hands bound to a tree as close to the Drakes Keep as they dared to bring you, waiting for death. 

     Night had finally fallen. The sound of crickets and the skittish steps of a rabbit your only company. Then as suddenly as it started, the forest was quiet and still as a grave. Even the breeze that blew the branches seemed to stop. Then the snap was heard. Then another. The crunch of leaves as if something heavy was being dragged across the ground. Then you saw it, a pair of teal blue eyes peeking out from between the trees. Tears continued to stream down your face as you locked gazes with the creature that would end. 

     "Just make it quick," you managed to choke out, throat raw from your sobbing. Not even sure if the beast could even understand you. "Please, be fast, that's all I ask."

     The dragon finally moved. It slowly stepped out of the darkness and you could see it in it's full view. It's dark midnight scales almost blended into the night, in stark contrast to the golden scales that went up its stomach and throat. It tilted its triangular head curiously as it examined its food. Your eyes snapped shut as it got closer and closer, until you felt the hot breath of your face. The wet sound of its jaws opening was heard, and you could not help but scream.

      Then the ropes went slack.

      "Relax." said a deep voice. "I wont do anything." 

     Opening your eyes, the dragon looked down at you, spitting out a piece of rope. "I...I… I dont understand." You shuddered out, wiping you tear stained face. "You arent going to eat me?"

     The dragon rolled its eyes. "Honestly, what's with these villagers and thinking I want to eat people? Of course not." 

     You removed the last bits of rope around your wrist, glancing at the dragon all the while. It wasn't going to kill you. What did it want? "So…" you began cautiously. "What now? 

       "What do you mean what now?"

       "If I'm not a meal, then what was the point of sacrifices? What is it that you want from the village."

       "Nothing." The dragon replied as if it should have been plain as day. "I never wanted any sacrifices ever. I untie them and let them go. I don't want anything from your village." 

       "But… but…" you stammered. "The missing livestock. And all those old stories about a dragon that burned the town centuries ago!"

      "My grandpa," the dragon replied. "Dont remember much about him, other than he was an old grouch. But that was a couple decades before I was even bored. as for livestock, sorry to say I was hungry. Large game have been scarce. Not my first choice, but you gotta do what you gotta do. Now," the dragon leaned down and sniffed at you, its warm breath blowing at your hair. "Who are you?"

       "-_" you stammered. 

      "And why, ___… did they decide to pick you to feed it the beast?"

      You looked down, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. "No one wanted me." You answered honestly. "They were glad to have me gone."

        The dragon sniffed once more, like a hunting hound committing a scent to memory. There was the sound of thunder out in the distance. "Well, you're free of them now." Was his only reply. "Theres another town just south of here." He pointed a claw to his left. "I can only guess you wouldn't want to go back from where you came."

     You looked back between the direction the men who had tied up went,then the dragon, then to the direction he pointed. "So...so you'll let me go? Just like that?" 

     "Just like that." He assured.

It seemed too easy. The dragon letting you go and free to start a new life far far away.  The sound of thunder drew a little closer, and with it the wind returned to rustle the trees. You shivered. They had taken your cloak when you were arrested, and obviously did not bother to give it back when you had been left to die.

     The dragon seemed to take note of this, and tilted his head curiously. "What's the matter?"

      "Cold." You admitted. "Since I can leave, do you happen to know where I could sleep for the night?"

      The dragon eyed you once more and sniffed again as if looking for something of offense. When it seemed he did not find it, the dragon turned and nodded his head towards the direction he had come. "Follow me."

      "You know my name," you said as you followed the creature further into the forest. "What's yours?"

     "Raihan." He replied. "The Great Raihan."

    "Who calls you that?" You asked,trying hard not to snort.

    "Plenty of people." He said, twigs and leaves crunching under heavy feet. "I'll have you know, I have met many a knight and king that called me a great dragon."

     "What kings? Anyone I might have heard of?"

    "All sorts," he assured. "King Lance of Kanto. Queen Cynthia of Sinnoh. And most recently, your king Leon here in Galar."

     "So tell me then, great dragon Raihan, why are you out here in the back water forests outside of my nowhere village?"

    "Just as birds migrate, so do dragons." He explained. "We go from place to place, seeking spots of comfort to rest. Making a new home for ourselves or going to old ones."

    "I take it this is an old home then?"

   "Very old." He finally stopped and gestured to an ancient stone structure. With its half crumbled towers and vine covered parapets. "Very old indeed."

   "I've only ever heard of this place." You said in awe as you walked up the stone steps of the ancient castle. "My grandmother used to tell me about the dragons lair. She and all the other elders called it The Drakes Keep."

     "That's what you humans call it, yes." Raihan replied, pushing his large scaly body against the giant oak doors to open them. "But the true name of this place is Hammerlocke. Hammerlocke Castle."

     Walking into the grand entrance, Hammerlocke caslte was oddly well kept for not having a human inhabitant for centuries. Aside from the few cracks in the stone from age, the floor was clean of dirt and debris. There was even decorative tapestries that still adorned the walls. 

     Raihan pushed against the doors once more to shut them firmly, keeping the cold out. Then you realized something.

     "Um… not to sound rude or anything. But this doesn't look like a living space, and the doorways look far too small for you." 

     "Good observation. Sadly, castle life isn't very accommodating to this form."

     "Form?"

     Instead of elaborating, Raihan showed you what he had meant. In a flash of light you saw the large creature shrink down and take the form of a very tall and very handsome young man. He stretched out and let out a sigh. "Yes form." He grinned at your shocked expression. "There are many things about dragons you don't know."  

      It turned out dragons were very hospitable. Raihan had kept the fire in the sitting room going with ease, making warmer than you had ever known. He had a sorts of finery stashed away, including good coats and blankets of the softest materials. He had explained it was in a dragons to hoard things of great interest or value. Despite that he may not have a need fancy furs to keep him warm or nice bottles of wine, they were still soft to lay on and tasty to drink, and so he kept them. 

      "I'm still surprised dragons can take human form." You commented, swaddled up nicely in the furs Raihan had loaned you, stomach full of the food he had gathered the other day.

      "Oh yes, we are creatures of magic. Dragons,unicorns, the various breeds of fae." He took a sip from the golden goblet he poured the wine into. Unlike you he seemed to not be feeling the effects of it. "We were created by magic, neither human nor animal. So we are free to choose whichever form we please."

       "Do you appear human often?" 

       He shrugged. "I'd say it's fairly even. There is a time and a place for my true form, and I do enjoy visiting cities and what not, and that only really can be done like this." He gestured to his human form. 

       "I was always told dragons would sit in caves on piles of gold. Seeking princesses and young knights to drag away. Never that they like to be tourists."

       "Everyone is different." He said. "Truth be told, all those stories are rather old fashioned. Me? I like humans. Well...some of you." He flashed you a grin, seeming to imply you were one of the likeable ones. "I suppose I've always been a rather curious one. When I was a hatchling, I would sneak off to town and play with local children."

        "Now that does not surprise me," you said playfully while returning his grin. "You strike me as the sort who was a little scamp when they were young."

      "Oh trust me, you are not far off." He chuckled. "My parents could do nothing to keep me away. Everywhere we went, I sought out people, and when I was grown I went all over. I learned to read in many of your human tongues. Learned histories of every land I could. Befriended as many as I could."

      "That sounds amazing," you said wistfully. The life he described sounded like it could have only existed in a novel. You had never been able to venture out past the borders of the village. "I envy you, Raihan. I've never known such freedom." 

      "Well now you can." He replied. "All those townspeople think you won't return. You can start somewhere else."

      Looking down at your own golden cup, your reflection stared back in the red wine. Never go back...that certainly was not the problem. They would not miss you, and you would not miss them. But what kind of life could you have out there? "I doubt wherever I go will be much better."

      "And why is that?"

      "...Once a thieving urchin, always a thieving urchin." You said with all the resentment in you. That brand had followed you over half your life, and odds are it would follow you to the grave.

       "I take it that's why they tied you up to be sacrificed." Looking up, Raihans face portrayed no emotion. Part of you wondered if now he was disgusted knowing he let a thief in here, or maybe he pitied you. Honestly you weren't sure which would feel worse.

        You nodded. "When I was ten, my parents died. My grandmother long gone years before. My father's shop had caught fire, you see. And suddenly I was an orphan. No money, no home, no family. No one wanted to help. I had nothing, and so to the townspeople I was nothing.I did the only thing I could do: I stole to keep myself alive. I was arrested now and then, but I always got out. But the more I did it, the better I was at not getting caught. Well, until recently. And I think you know how that went." 

         "I wish I could say this is the first I've heard something like this, but it does seem like a sad reality to humans."  Raihans face then turned to concern as he reached out to put a hand in your shoulder. It wasn't until the tears were welling in your eyes a moment later did you realize it was because you were on the verge of crying. The events of today finally sinking in. Then he added. "But that doesn't mean you cant move on from it. Trust me, I've lived long enough to know what I'm talking about. Some of the best people I've known have lead similar beginnings to yours. I know it must feel awful now, but it'll get better. I promise."

      "You can't promise anything." You said, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. "What am I going to do in this new town? All I know is how to steal. I'll just end up back where I was."

      "I mean, you could add some flare." He said jokingly. "I'd say you'd make a handsome jewel thief that steals hearts along the way." 

      You couldn't help but snort. "That is absolutely ridiculous." 

      "It's merely a suggestion." He grinned. "All I'm saying is why not have some fun with your self fulfilling prophecy?" 

      You paused for a moment. "...What was it like? When you first left to travel?"

     "A bit frightful." He admitted. "But exciting. Often times lonely."

     "Lonely?"

     Raihan nodded. "Yes, dragons, though we live long, are few and far between. Besides my family, it would be a few years before I saw another of my kind. Those stories you talked about of maidens in towers, I can assure you the reason was never malicious. Those drakes did it more for companionship than anything else."

      "You make it sound like you speak from experience."

      "Well…"

      "Raihan, you didn't!"

      "Oh I assure you ___," he smirked like an absolute cad and winked. "All princesses under my protection were there willingly.  And treated very well, if I do say so myself." Your face flushed at what he was implying, and Raihan bursted out laughing.

      After a moment you began to laugh as well. It had been so long since you could sit like this and be friendly with anyone. Raihan was so good natured, it felt like it would be a challenge not to like him. "Are you going to stay in this castle long?" You asked. Wondering if it would be forward to ask if you could visit him from time to time after parting ways.

      "For a few weeks," he said, taking a long drink from his goblet. "Then off to Wyndon."

      "Wyndon? As in the capital city Wyndon?"

       "The one and only. Off to visit a friend for the spring."

      Part of you felt a bit disappointed for him to be leaving so soon. "I hope you enjoy it, " you said,meaning it. "I admit, I'll miss your company."

     "Then dont miss me."

     "What?"

     "Come with me, I could use a travel companion."

     "What would I possibly do in Wyndon?" Even as you said it, your mind raced with the possibilities. You had only heard in passing of the great city where King Leon held court. Of its beautiful building and the wealth of opportunities to be found there.

      "What couldn't you do?" He replied. "The better question is what do you have to lose? Be my travel buddy, ___. See lands beyond this forest. Hear languages you've never heard. Rub elbows with royalty. If you don't like it I can drop you off in that village south of here, how does that sound? Unless of course you're considering being a heartbreaking jewel thief. In which case I wholeheartedly endorse your decision."

        You thought it over and over. Be a dragons companion. Go to the capital and regions beyond. Or go to some other backwater town and possibly live in the mud once more. It wasn't a very hard decision. "I'll take you up on that offer."

       Raihan smiled, a small fang poking at his bottom lip. He tapped his golden cup against yours. "Cheers. We ride in two weeks time."

[pjstafford]

Brothers ( A Short Story)

Inches from her face. She wrinkles her nose involuntarily as the smell of his inebriation assails her. He moves irregularly forwards and back. Forwards, he grabs the woman who stands a couple of inches taller than him. Backward, he leans and steadies himself against the wall. Forwards, he yells. Backward, he quiets. There is something about this woman that infuriates him. She is young, dressed conservatively, with a paisley headband on her hair and a cross around her neck. Except for the nose wrinkle, she stands composed, sure, every other part of her unwrinkled. She is accustomed to people yelling at her.

"You give it all to the Mexicans. Damn wetbacks! They have another country they can go back to. We don't. Our land was ripped away from you, white man, and now you give them everything. These damn Mexicans. Don't even speak English." He is dressed inappropriately for the weather on this February night in Albuquerque, New Mexico. It is raining. The distant roll of thunder sounds.

"You have warm clothes in your bag. I have to give what we have to others who don't have any." Stacy saw Joe sell his coat yesterday for a bottle. Yesterday when the night was warmer and the bottle was more attractive. It was the second he had been given this month. She fears that if she gives him a coat tonight, Joe will have another bottle, but the next man needing a coat will go cold. When the rain turns to snow tonight, this decision might cause her some regrets, but managing scarce resources is part of her job. She will pray for Joe tonight. She is not giving him another coat, though. Not today.

"You owe me. You took my land and how I lived. Took me from my family and put me in one of your schools where I watched others die and now you won't give me a coat." Joe is Navajo but never attended a boarding school. Still, the news of what those schools had been was in the news. Maybe it would get him a coat. He would be warmed tonight. He will sell it for a bottle tomorrow. It is the least this white woman wearing a cross could do for him. "You give it to the Mexicans, but no one took their land."

Victor stands in the corner watching the scene. He is Hispanic. He has a mustache and long hair. His family lives on the land they lived on since it was considered to be part of the Spanish colonies. His family kept the land, but the country it belonged to had changed over the years. He might have been insulted by this Navajo man, Joe. It's going to be a Hell of a night, he thought, buttoning his own warm. leather coat with the sound of rain increasing. He wishes the woman would just give the man a coat. The woman hands Joe a pair of socks and then gestures for Victor to come and get a pair. He is grateful for a dry pair to change into should the rain stop.

Victor has watched Stacy handle situations such as these several times over the two weeks he has frequented the day shelter. He is impressed by how it all works. Three hundred men, women, and children are being fed, clothed, and provided a shower daily. Some are drunks. Some use other things. The women - most are working the street, running from the law, or, in other cases, running from their husbands or boyfriends. The men are nut jobs or recently released criminals with nowhere to go.

it's no wonder, he thinks, that they can't see the few like me. They have no time. Those of us who are just down and out - in need of a job and a kind word. It's hard for them to find time for the ones like him; standing quietly in the corner.

A coworker takes Stacy to the back to let her breathe and blow off some steam unseen. "Joe has a home and children on the nation," she says. "I want to help those with nowhere to go, but why don't those who have a choice choose home?"

Victor could have told her. He was born in Northern New Mexico, but he has spent maybe three weeks at "home" in the last thirty years. The last time he spent a week-end. and that was too long. He thought, with his father dead, he would stay forever. Take over as the oldest son, but his mother told him he had a choice. If he stayed, no more fighting with his brother-in-law. If he stayed no more having women over except the one to which he was still married. If he stayed, no more needle.

Hell, he could have done that. He had been clean of the needle for six months. He didn't want to fight with his brother-in-law and had lost interest in women. He could have stayed and been a dutiful son tending to his widowed elder mother. That's what he had come home to do, but why did she have to give him an ultimatum. That was so demeaning and with his father not yet buried. He was ashamed of her. Did he think she would be giving the orders now? it was disrespectful to treat him that way now that he was the head of the family. Victor shakes his head now, heading into the rain, thinking of the shame he felt for his mother at the way she had treated him.

He isn't like these other bums, he thinks. He will find some work, make some traveling money and be on his way to California. Given a chance, he will have a roof over his head and a television of his own to watch. He had made good money before and he will again, With all the rain, unusual for Albuqeruquq, there just wasn't any construction, but there will be again.

Victor thinks that there are few volunteers who would remember his face let alone his name if something happened to him. There were three hundred stories a day at the shelter. it was easy for the quiet ones to get lost, but Victor has nothing he is hiding from. He just doesn't have any money and anywhere he wanted to go without money.

Rumors circulate at these shelters. There are bands of kids trying to take back the parks and the parking lots. The initiation is to stab a homeless person. Isn't there enough on the streets without adding another threat? Mostly white kids, he heard. Why would white kids care about who lives on the street? Why not stay home?

Victor had started to hang with two other guys who were sober - a white guy and a Navajo. They had a pack of cards and would spend their nights playing and taking turns sleeping. They avoided the parks and went into the residential area around the uptown area. The best nights were nights when they found an empty car port in an apartment complex.

On this wet night, out of six carports, two had cars in them. One of them had chained bicycles. In another, a group of three young black men is gathered. They have a twelve-pack, a bottle of something nice, and some erotic literature. One of them had a job, for sure.

Victor's friends are in a different port. He goes to them. They sit quietly -each fighting their own urges. Victor lights a cigarette and, after a couple of inhales, passes it to the next man. Time passes.

A pile of rags in the port with the bicycles moves and becomes a man. Victor recognizes Joe from the shelter. He clutches a half-empty bottle of mouthwash. Joe wanders into the port with the three men who had just opened their bottle. He falls against one of the men.

"Hey, old timer, steady there.: a man propped Joe up on a pile of blankets. Joe tells the men about not having a blanket or coat. He says he couldn't get one because the Mexicans got them all. He thinks the blacks and the Indians should band together. Their land was taken but the black man was taken from their land. They were the same.

The men listens, and laugh with him, but did not pass him the bottle. Finally, there is just one good shot left in the bottle. One of the men asks Joe if he wants a taste. Joe smiles and nods. Another man asks Joe what he is drinking. Joe shows them the mouthwash and offers it to them. The men shake their heads. "Man, you must have the freshest mouth in all of New Mexico.

The tallest of the men stands up and holds the bottle with the last shot as if he is about to chug it. He looks at Joe. "You're sure you want a shot? " "Please" Joe says and holds out his hand. The tall man passes the bottle to a friend who pretends to hand it to Joe and, then, takes it back. In the port, Victor and the other men keep their heads down to avoid looking.

The tall man says "Hey, old timer, how quickly do you think you can chug that mouthwash?" "This is mine," Joe says, "I stoled it from the store. It's mine." "Not anymore" the tall man easily takes the mouthwash from him.

Now they are all standing. Joe is in the middle of the other three.

"Tell you what, old timer," the tall man says. "I'll giver you the rest of the whiskey if you show us how quickly you can drink this mouthwash. Otherwise," he spills a bit of the mouthwash on the ground.

"I'll drink it," Joe says. "I was going to drink it anyway."

"Drink fast," the tall man says and starts to pour the mouthwash on Joe's head. Joe is fearful of wasting the mouthwash. He tilts his head back and tries to catch as much as he can in his mouth. The tall man slightly moves the mouthwash bottle so Joe has to struggle to keep it in his mouth. It gets in his eyes and all over his face. The bottle emptied, Joe smells likes medicine and can barely see. He is gasping for air. The other three men laugh so hard they cry. "The Whiskey," Joe says and holds out his hands, eyes still blinded, towards where the tall man had been standing. The men look at one another, shrug, hand Joe the bottle, and calp at the performance - he has been the evening entertainment. "You are pretty entertaining, old timer." Joe finishes the whiskey. His facial expression might lead you to believe he has seen the rapture. The man spins Joe around a few times and pushes him out of the carport. Joe's show over he wanders towards the carport where Victor and his friends have been silently, mirthlessly watching.

The oldest of the three men, Wally, pulls a bottle of drinking water out of his backpack. The other Navajo man, John, grabs Joe and holds him while Wally gently pours the water over Joe's closed eyes to get the mouthwash off.

When Joe opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is Victor's leather coat. "I don't have a coat," he says "I"m cold. " Victor tries to ignore him. "You, wetback. Why don't you go home and let us Americans alone? I fought for this country." "I did too," victor tells him "Iraq and Afghanistan." Joe starts to cry. Victor takes off his coat and hands it to Joe who puts it on and wanders back into the carport with the bicycles. The other men collect their beer cans and pornography and leave. This wasn't their shelter, just a refuge from their women folk. Joe snoring in one carport, Victor, John, and Wally settle their blankets and sleeping bags for the night.

During the night, the rain stops. The moon comes out from behind the cloud. Victor hears a snap and is awake. His military training kicks in. His friends still sleep. From behind a car in a carport, he hears voices. One voice describes the situation. There are three men asleep in one port. On the far side in the port with bicycles, another man was snoring. The choice is obvious. The youth comes from behind the car and walks by the port where Victor lies still, awake. The white kid has a shaved head and a swastika tattoo on the back of his neck. Victor lets the kid walks by and shakes John. He gestures with his head.

As the kid turns Joe over, still soundly asleep, he raises the blade over his head, He unzips the coat and feels for the heart. He is going to be the first one of the initiates to actually kill and not just harm. As he lowers his hand, Victor tackles him to the ground. The knife is dropped and John kicks it out of reach. The kid looks at Victor. Wally awakens. The kid backs up on his ass and his hands get up on his knees ready to sprint. He looks at Wally and then back at the two men standing over him. Joe still sleeps. "Get" John barks and the kids sprints away. Victor goes to retrieve the knife. Hands it to John who pockets it. it is a bit of a trophy and might come in handy on another night.

"You could have been killed, "John said "and why? For this man?"

Victor looks at Joe and then back at John. "Arent we all brothers here on the street? Just as we were in Iraq?" He walks back to the port where his blankets lay. It is too cold for him to linger without a coat.