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yanara126-writing · 5 years ago

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A Death in Your Name - Emblyn ix Ensios (1/5)

How can one mortal soul be so important to a god?

You misunderstand. I'm not Galawain or Magran, I'm not used to people dying for me.

And yet they do. Some willingly, some not.

Iovara's sister, inquisitor and high priestess of Eothas', has made a mistake, her way of righting it impacts more things than she's expected. Perhaps Iovara has more in common with a certain god than she likes and perhaps Eothas should rethink his actions, or lack thereof, if he doesn't like the consequences.

Read here or on Ao3

Have fun! Comments always welcome! :)

The apostate was dead. The trial had ended and she had been sentenced to death and an eternity in Breith Eaman, unless she begged for forgiveness from the gods. There was no doubt in Emblyn’s mind that Iovara wouldn’t. Her sister had always been the more headstrong one. Emblyn had only ever followed, at first Iovara and later master Thaos. Even now she didn’t dare defy him.

This time she followed a path she knew well. She’d taken it thousands of times before, since she joined the order and then found her proper place. A place she’d never doubted, even when everything else had fallen apart.

Her boots clacked on the marble floor as she made her way through the familiar hallways. The large windows let the bright afternoon light in to illuminate the walls, but for once she paid it no mind.

When she entered the grand sanctuary, she wasn’t alone. Two young acolytes tended to the room, cleaning up any dirt still left from the last mass. When they noticed her, they bowed in greeting, eagerly asking her orders. Emblyn sent them away with a kind word and a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Slower than before she stepped through the rows of well-polished, wooden benches towards the lavish altar. She brushed over the wood with her gloved hands, feeling melancholy set in. Her fingers quickly flinched away, as if they’d been burnt. Tucking her hands into her sleeves she turned away and moved swiftly onwards.

At the alter she took off her fine leather gloves and put them down. It would’ve been rude to pay her respects to the Light of Life with anything less than her own hands.

The candles were already burning, as they always were. Since her ascension to high priestess and inquisitor she’d made sure that there were always some alight, and fresh ones were brought in as soon as the previous were too burnt down. Some of these candles she’d made herself. It was a task far beneath her station, but the simplicity of it helped ground her on bad days.

With a flick of her finger she ignited an incense stick and gently put it into the brass bowl. The red gleam of the stick caught her eye and she couldn’t help but watch it for a while. As simple as it was, it was an undeniable proof of her dedication. Her lips twitched upwards for a short moment. Perhaps she had a little bit of her sister in her after all. The brief moment of levity gave way to solemn silence again.

The hard floor pressed against her knees as Emblyn knelt before the altar. Not directly in front of it, that was the spot for the priest, but further back where the devotees would receive their blessing. Her light robes fell gently over her legs, providing the appropriate modesty, but refusing her the comfort of a layer of fabric between the stone and her skin. Good.

Emblyn folded her hands and stared at the spot of light in front of her. The ceiling was designed to allow a beam of light to fall through and illuminate the place before the altar, where the priest would preach to the people. How often had she stood there herself? How often had she promised the desperate redemption and forgiveness if they just asked for it? How often had she stood there after mass and thanked Eothas for the chance He’d given her?

Her hands started trembling and soon she was shaking all over. She may have been forgiven last time, but there was no redemption after her most recent crime. She’d done what she’d thought... no, what Thaos had thought necessary. Emblyn didn’t know if he’d been right, and she didn’t want to know. It didn’t matter in the end. No end goal could possibly justify her treason.

There, in the first place she’d ever truly found peace, the walls broke down. The shaking became sobbing and she pressed her folded hands over mouth, desperately trying to keep the sound of her violent sobs from filling these holy halls, even as fat tears rolled down her face.

She’d led her only sister not only to death, but eternal damnation. She hadn’t stopped Iovara when she’d left the order. She’d lied straight to Iovara’s face, guided her to Ossionus and right to her doom.

Hot tears trailed down her cheeks as Emblyn let all the atrocities she’d committed pass through her mind. Her chest hurt from her heaving sobs, but she deserved the pain. It was nothing in comparison to what she’d put Iovara through. She should have spoken up at the trial at the very latest. If not as a sister, then as the high priestess of Eothas. What a sham she was to that title.

When her wailing became too loud, Emblyn bit on her finger until she tasted iron. Red blood dropped from her teeth and stained her robes.

Now it was too late. Even if she somehow found the courage to face her sister’s final resting place, Thaos had forbidden her to go down again. He’d sent her away to find solace in her home town. As if Creitum would hold anything but hate and despair for her now, and rightly so. No, the only thing that could possibly still give her hope now, was the breaking of a new dawn.

Hesitantly Emblyn lifter her head to stare at the glittering beam of light before her. She imagined the familiar warm voice filling her head with soft promises of brighter days. Thaos thought she was upset about his revelation. She had been in the beginning, yet with time had come the realization that it didn’t really matter. Her god was still real, if anything the fact that kith had had the power to make him just proved that He was right. Every new dawn, every new spring time would be better than the last.

No, faith was no issue for Emblyn. Which was the reason she wouldn’t ask for Eothas’ forgiveness this time. Her actions were beyond redemption. She wouldn’t besmirch His sanctity by begging for His mercy and compassion when she knew she didn’t deserve it.

Slowly she took her hand from her mouth, giving the damage a short, dispassionate look, before carefully removing her outer cloak. Her tunic she would leave on, to provide at least a modicum of modesty, but the cloak was a symbol of a station she no longer deserved. It didn’t belong to her anymore, and there was no need to dirty it, when her successor would need it.

Gently Emblyn folded the cloak and put it in it’s proper place, under the light, where soon the new high priest would stand. She hoped they would appreciate the duties and privileges that came with the title. Not like her, who had grossly neglected her duty when she had been needed the most.

Tears welled up in Emblyn’s eyes again. She had been so proud at being handed the sacred tokens, had sworn her oath with confidence and had done her job with passion. The position of inquisitor had been a burden by comparison. She hadn’t wanted to prosecute people, but Thaos had convinced her that it was the right thing to do. After all, she would be delivering the worst of all people to redemption. It was mercy to cleanse them and give them a new chance on the wheel. Only that hadn’t been all. She had doubted, but had quashed those doubts with the assurance that her master had never stirred her wrong before. She still didn’t know how wrong she’d gone. Where was the cut to make? At the eternal imprisonments? The cleansing? Or was the whole inquisition a well-meant gesture taken too far? She wanted to believe in her mentor, believe that it was all right, but her world was breaking apart.

The truth wasn’t the issue, rather the fact that there was a truth at all, that it had been hidden by the very man she had trusted above any other mortal. That was what broke her. That, and the fate she had delivered her sister to at his behest, for nothing more than saying the truth. Emblyn didn’t agree with Iovara’s methods, nor with the conclusion her sister had apparently come to, but she had unravelled lies, Emblyn herself had been too blind to see. Iovara hadn’t deserved to be punished for shining a light into the darkness, no one had known to be there.

With her already bloodied hand, Emblyn pulled a dagger from it’s sheath at her hips, carelessly smearing blood on herself in the process. The tunic would soon be sullied anyway.

The dagger itself was simple, lacking the usual ornamentation of ritual weapons. No wonder, as it hadn’t been intended as such. It was a practical piece, made for self-defence, fashioned from high quality steel, and it had served Emblyn well over the years. She’d always kept it in good condition, both because of it’s sentimental value and because she’d learnt the hard way, that having a back up weapon was not optional in the less civilized corners of the world.

The polished steel glinted when she held it against the light. She felt almost sorry for misusing it like that, but it was only fitting it’d be this weapon, that would allow her to do penance one final time.

Emblyn held the handle in a tight grip, making her knuckles go white, and started her confession. Forcefully she grabbed a thick strand of her long, dark hair and sliced through it. She held the bundle of hair now in her fist towards the light and spoke with a shaking voice.

“I have brought shame over myself and neglected my sacred duty. I have disappointed the trust put in me.” The first handful of hair was thrown to the ground, spreading out over the floor. Her chest heaved with supressed sobs and she stared resentfully at the hair before angrily grabbing another bunch and slicing it off with vengeance.

“I have brought shadows to the dawn by spreading lies and untruths to people I was supposed to protect from them.” The next bundle landed on the ground, adding another layer of hair, another layer of shame.

“I have forsaken the people who needed me most and have denied them the saving light of dawn.” Her hand shook more with that cut, leaving an ugly, uneven edge behind. More than half of her hair was gone now, sheared off with only a finger’s breadth left. With a toss the hair in her hand joined the rest on the floor. A few of them were bloody, where she’d touched them with her injured finger.

Emblyn grabbed what remained of her once luscious hair, tugging so hard she could feel a few of them rip out. Trembling she chopped it all off, nicking her scalp in the process, bloodying both hair and cloths. Tears running down her face she couldn’t force out the words she wanted to say and just knelt there, dagger and hair clutched tightly in her lap. After a few seconds she remembered that she had to hurry, the sanctuary wouldn’t stay empty forever. Choking down her desperate sobs once again, Emblyn laid bare her most vile and contemptible crime.

“I have betrayed my own sister, my own flesh and blood, and have condemned her to an eternity in darkness and suffering.” She didn’t have the strength to throw the last of her locks, all energy had left her, leaving only despair behind. It took all her strength to just open her fist and the let hair tumble to the floor in front of her. Emblyn stared at the hair, spread out almost like a carpet all over the marble floor, feeling vaguely sorry for the acolyte who would have to clean it up. But the far more pressing feeling on her mind, was melancholy. Iovara’s hair had been just like hers, dark and silky, a pride they’d shared years ago. The missionaries of the order usually kept few possessions, simply out of practicality, but their hair had been the one material object the two sisters had allowed themselves to delight in.

Slowly Emblyn saw the dark locks on the floor morph into the burnt mess Iovara’s hair had been after the trial. Crusted with blood, sheared off in places and scorched in others, it hadn’t been recognizable anymore. Just like Iovara herself.

Emblyn hadn’t even been allowed to keep the body. She wouldn’t have made a big spectacle out of it, she’d just wanted to properly send off her sister in a quiet ceremony, even if she knew it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Instead Thaos had brought back Iovara’s head, or what was left of it after the fall, and had presented it to the public. As a cautionary tale, he’d said. Emblyn didn’t know what had happened to the rest of her.

But it didn’t matter anymore. She didn’t deserve the kindness anyway, just like Iovara hadn’t deserved her fate. Emblyn could only hope the blank slate of the wheel would be enough to earn her a chance at redemption. Her soul would belong to different person, and she herself would only be distant nightmare. Hopefully. Perhaps her soul was already too damaged by her own atrocities. But in that case she trusted in Gaun to weed out her soul from the cycle.

The dagger was no longer shining when she lifted it again. The edges were red with still drying blood, giving it an ugly rusty colour. Emblyn hoped someone would take care of it later, it would be a shame to let it rust.

Slowly and purposefully she placed the tip of the weapon against her upper chest, between two ribs. She made sure to have a good grip with both hands and steady aim, it wouldn’t do to botch this. She could still feel the tears on her cheeks, yet her breathing had slowed down to the point that her chest hardly moved anymore.

“I give up my life, so that those I wronged may find peace. I hand my soul over to You, to Your grace and mercy. Let my death be my penance, so that I may redeem myself in Your divine light, oh Eothas, Dawn of the World.”

After those words, Emblyn plunged the dagger into her chest with all the force she could muster. She knew she’d fail if she hesitated.

The pain was immediate and hit her with vengeance, but it came too late regardless. The blade had already sunken in to the hilt, scraping bones and piercing soft flesh. Blood was trickling out of the wound, blocked only by steel instead of flesh and skin.

Emblyn gasped, eyes wide, and suddenly the world was thrown out of focus around her as the agony overtook everything else. She hardly noticed when her surroundings tilted and her head hit the floor, as she fell. Palming the knife, she couldn’t bring herself to pull it out. Her strength was fading fast and the world was greying already, what would be the point in trying? Even the pain faded as everything became numb and muted. Somewhere in the distance she thought she could hear bells ringing, but wasn’t certain if that was real or just her wishful thinking, as she laid before death’s door.

The world turned black for Emblyn, leaving nothing behind but a vague, quickly fading sense of relief. The cold marble under her skin was gone, as was the burning agony in her chest. The last thing Emblyn felt before her soul was carefully pulled from her dying body, was a sudden flood of deep sadness, that didn’t feel quite like her own.

She was long gone when the giant double doors opened again and a young acolyte entered, confused at finding a dark room, the candles extinguished and even the windows darkened, though it was hardly sunset. She didn’t hear his scream at finding her broken body on the floor.

Emblyn never knew the chain of events her shame and desperation had triggered, that would stretch over the next millennia.

#Pillars of Eternity #Eothas #Iovara #tragedy #fanfiction #writing #The Watcher #Iovara's sister #suicide warning!#religion #sibling love #finding peace #Thaos #hypocrisy #from everyone really #grief #mourning

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orokin-made · 5 years ago

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Watcher’s Opinions on the Gods

Tagged by @orime-stories, thank you!

This post contains a lot of spoilers for the events of both Pillars of Eternity games below, for anybody who would prefer to skip past it.

Watcher Elehal’s Thoughts on the Gods of Eora

1. Abydon: Honestly??? The only valid god. A real bro. Elehal inherited the work ethic of his artisan parents if nothing else, as well as a deep appreciation for their patron god. He keeps a copy of Daily Affirmations of Focus and Efficiency on him at all times, just to have around. Did you know Abydon’s the god of hope as well as hard work and skilled craft (and a bunch of other things)?? Hope and strength and aspiration, which are three things Elehal is absolutely about. He’s also closely associated with Magran so honoring him is kind of a roundabout way for him to feel closer to her.

2. Berath: On one hand, they seem pretty reasonable, as far as gods go, and the whole natural cycle of the Wheel thing makes sense, so he has mostly favorable views of the god of death. He really doesn’t appreciate having yet another god’s chime in him though, especially not one that’s actively being used to control him. He’ll cooperate on the whole Eothas thing because obviously that’s the larger threat that needs to be addressed, but he’s going to be kind of prickly about it.

3. Eothas: Disappointed, more than anything else. Eothas seems like he should be important to Elehal, redemption, rebirth, that whole cycle of life and death thing, and he’s one of the few gods who seem like they actually care about the goings-on in the mortal world. But then he went and destroyed the one place Elehal was actually starting to consider as a home, and killed countless people and used their souls as fuel all because he thought he deserved to decide what the “greater good” for Eora was. Admirable intentions maybe, unacceptable methods. Also you can’t just make that kind of decision for the entire world!! Even if you are a god!! Stop it!!

4. Galawain: What’s even his deal? He really hasn’t had much opportunity to interact or form an opinion on Galawain (I’m playing SSS this playthrough though, so that might change) He seems like kind of a dick though. Strength is for helping people, it’s a tool, not an end in and of itself.

5. Hylea: He’s a scholar and a musician, of course Hylea would be one of his favored gods. That doesn’t mean he feels obligated to keep a promise made to her if other options that feel more right are available though, unfortunately.

6. Magran: Oh boy. Oh, buddy... When a god is so closely entangled with your own sense of self, having opinions about them becomes.....complicated. Whatever the gods are, whatever the relationship between them and the godlike really is, Magran is part of him. He can’t hate her. Even if it was just as a repository for a sliver of her essence, she chose him and that made him who he is. And being a godlike isn’t all bad, but it is a loooooooot of pressure to grow up with.

He said that Dari was different from other little boys. That he was special because his real mother was special, and so he was going to be bigger and stronger and smarter than all the other boys. Even Finn, Finn said. And what that meant, Finn said, was that Dari had to be better, too, he had to be kinder and gentler and braver, so he would deserve what his real mother had given him.

--GGK, The Wandering Fire

Obviously more is going to be expected from a child of the gods. Obviously different, higher standards apply to them than other kith. Especially if you’re a child of the goddess of conflict and trials, you have to push yourself harder than others do, you can’t let anything be too difficult or too much, ever. But also you have to be gentler and more careful around people, because otherwise they’ll be afraid of you, and you might hurt them, even if you don’t mean to.

Maybe he doesn’t agree with some of the things Magran stands for, maybe he thinks there’s other ways to grow besides constant testing, but still, at the end of the day all Elehal really wants is to hear her say she’s proud of what he’s done, that she made the right choice when she chose him.

7. Ondra: Elehal was a sailor before he was a Watcher and a Huana before that; the Lady of Lament has always been a prominent figure in his life. She’s just kind of... there? Like the sea is just there, you don’t have to have an opinion about it, it’s just.... there and you have to live with it. Even when she starts actually talking to him that doesn’t change much.

8. Rymrgand: I mean at least he’s upfront about his whole thing. He’s straightforward and Elehal can respect that, even if he sees the very concept of inevitability as more of a challenge than anything else. He’s probably come close to being killed by Rymrgand more times than by any other god, because no other god activates his “meet me in the pit motherfucker I will personally kick your ass” response as often or as reliably.

Rymrgand: Magran come do something about your terrible child he’s tearing my realm apart AGAIN.

Magran, watching the whole thing with a bowl of celestial-soul-popcorn: I will not. Good for him :)

9. Skaen: hey what the fuck? Hey real quick though, what the fuck??

10. Wael: Liked him a whole lot better before the Forgotten Sanctum debacle. He’s a god of secrets and he’s kind of fun about it, what’s not to like? A biiiit too tied up with wizards and their creepy wizard business for comfort though.

11. Woedica:

#Elehal #Watcher Wednesday #poe #long post #sorryyyyy #replies

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adraveins · 5 years ago

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Okay, I’m thinking about Pillars/The Magnus Archives again because TMA is coming back soon, and I am VIBRATING with excitement and dread, so Watchers + their aligned and hated Fears:

Kit

Aesthetically, Kit is an odd Eye-Buried-Vast combination (uncovering knowledge and secrets, being watched + underground, small spaces, the center of all things + open spaces, the enormity of the universe, deep and wide things), which is interesting because the Vast and the Buried are opposites.

But she’d be an avatar of the Eye, because of the cipher analogue and the fact that gathering knowledge is her thing. She’d fear the Web and the Spiral the most (being controlled, having no free will + losing one’s mind, not being able to trust one’s senses).

She would make a perfect Archivist, in other words. This is hysterical to me because she HATES Wael (at least, after she learns the truth about the gods and realizes that Wael is just Engwithan Propaganda), and Wael is the obvious Eye analogue. She would definitely think that the Eye is less of a slimy fraud than Wael, even if it is malevolent.

And for the record, the god she’s closest to in her “canon” is Eothas, and he is absolutely the Extinction analogue (catastrophic change, replacement of old with new), and Kit would make one HELL of an Extinction avatar.

Hakona

Hakona, meanwhile, is aesthetically a Hunt-Desolation combination (being hunted, the chase, violence + loss and pain, burning, destruction), which go together pretty well.

But she’d be an avatar of the Hunt, because that’s primarily how she operates in the world. She’d fear the End the most, and the Lonely just a tad (death + isolation and disconnection).

And yet, while she does revere Galawain in her “canon,” and Galawain is the obvious Hunt analogue, her primary shifting dynamics with the gods involving moving away from Magran, the closest Desolation analogue, and towards Berath, because she’s trying to deal with the concept of death in a more healthy way by the time Deadfire rolls around.

But TMA doesn’t really have a good analogue for Berath, because the End is more of a Rymrgand kind of death.

#oc: kit #oc: hakona #mine: pillars

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dyrwoodan · 5 years ago

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Dyrcap, Golden Celery, and Skaenbone for Wren and Kaz! 💙😊

thank youuu ffion 💖

Dyrcap: The Dozens, House Doemenel, or the Crucible Knights?

wren: wren fucking Hated having to go ask for any of them for help. they had some minor interaction with the dozens after which they realized the dozens are just some assholes and they never interacted with them again. they were aware of house doemenel’s shady business so they didn’t even bother getting involved with them. well, their last option - the knights. wren spoke to them and they didn’t strike them as complete bastards so they agreed to help them with their little project. wren hated it and hated getting involved after it all ended how it ended but hey! they had allies now!

kaz: house doemenel. he never even interacted with the dozens or the knights. he managed to get on house doemenel’s good side by an accident and with a dash of dumbassery. a pinch of tomfoolery. (he hasn’t been in a big city in a while and he started going around the shops. he came across a shop with an Amazing Beautiful Exquisite bow. he had to have it but it was too expensive. this will be important later) as he was exploring defiance bay he walked into this seemingly abandoned house which was occupied by some hired thieves. he overhears them talking about the doemenels and lord reymont so it’s then obvious who hired them. after taking care of them he goes directly to the doemenel mansion and he is like Hey, i took care of your thieves and found this funny note, if you let me work for you and i will get a cut i won’t report this to reymont and you will get your jewel! so he does their job for them and they even agree to work together. and he buys the bow. later when he needs allies for the hearings he just asks his pal abrecan and it’s all good

Golden Celery: Which of the game one companions were in your Watcher’s main party? Are there any members in the party that you ship your Watcher with?

wren: edér, aloth, kana, sagani, hiravias/palleginakaz: edér, aloth, kana, sagani, hiravias/devil of carocneither of them really… dislikes anyone? mostly they all get along fine.wren feels the closest to edér, aloth, kana and sagani. they have nothing against hiravias or pallegina. wren is there for all of their companions even if they aren’t close friends. they never met durance or grieving mother (gm yes but i never finished her personal quest so idk what is up with her). they are not a fan of devil of caroc. they liked maneha. let’s say they didn’t meet zahua because i never did his personal quest either so,, idkkaz keeps everything skin-deep so he didn’t feel close to Anyone but. he liked edér and sagani… both kinda mom friends to him. he and aloth had a crush on each other but they never really acted on it because they were Dumb and Oblivious. kaz doesn’t really get kana and pallegina but he tolerates them. he liked hiravias and devil of caroc as well. other dispositions are the same as wren’s.

Skaenbone: Ultimately, which of the God’s of Eora did your Watcher side with in the Council of Stars quest?

wren: hylea. initially wanted to get galawain’s help because he was the patron of the hunt and wild places around which wren’s life used to revolve. but they didn’t vibe with him as much when they actually spoke to him. so they talked to all of the gods and hylea seemed to them personally like the best choice. they agreed to hylea’s proposition because it’s what wren wanted to do anyway.kaz: rymrgand. kaz only spoke to rymrgand since he wasn’t particularly interested in the other gods and just wanted to get this over with. and he vibed with rymrgand the most anyway. however, he didn’t give much thought to what rymrgand asked of him until he had to make the choice. after a bit of consideration he still decided to disintegrate the souls tho. seemed to him like the most sensible choice. he didn’t really feel like… manipulating the souls in any way. not by returning them to the bodies and not by returning them to the wheel. he firmly believes that people shouldn’t fuck around with souls. so he was like. ok. disintegration won’t do any harm i guess. seems safe.

flora of eora asks! 🍄

#oc: wren #oc: kaz #long post #rebelfatebinder #ask

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secretsfromwholecloth · 6 years ago

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Deadfire, day 4.

Whoo, got in. There was going to be some screaming if I couldn’t.

Eat my entire ass, Wael.

...and the game crashed as I was leaving. Five or six times, even, before the game decided to behave itself. Wael’s revenge, clearly. Coño.

Aw, Tuaha survived. Honestly, I was more invested in getting her killed than Harama—Clario and Ikawha getting assassinated bothers me more than Ruānu, honestly.

I always do like banging out all the Concelhaut stuff early, before I get the visit from Llengrath, so I can say hi to her and Tayn in the scrying pool.

Sikkerneq has now been propositioned by both Xoti and Tekēhu and had to turn them both down. I’m really getting nervous now, especially considering that I’ve probably left Aloth out of the party too long to ever get him to +2 approval and unlock his romance. If I end up missing out on the chance to romance anyone this playthrough because my chosen love interest decided to be fussy and I turned down other opportunities (particularly Xoti, who wouldn’t mind me siding with the RDC) to wait for her, I will be slightly annoyed.

Fleet Master Wakoyo pronouncing “Ofecchia” more like “Offechina” still mildly annoys me (there is no n there! none! where is he getting this?!), but hey, what impetus does an RDC functionary have to pronounce Vailian names correctly?

I’m not normally stupid enough to keep Maia and Tekēhu in the party together, so they have a lot of banter that I’m seeing for the first time. Including the one about Tekēhu’s tentacles making lewd gestures at Maia.

Pallegina, be nice to Edér; he may lack your education, but he does actually have a functioning brain in his head.

Scyorielaphas has been cut free and part of his soul kept for the Watershapers, as usual. Because really, why only have one quest that amounts to “let’s horrify Tekēhu with the actual state of the world compared to the lies he was told” when you can have two?

Awww, Maia apologized to Tekēhu and they made up. Thanks, you two, that was getting awkward.

To Sayuka, then. Let’s bang this out so we can get to the really fun stuff.

Serafen’s quest is done. Poor bastard. But Serafen, please don’t yell at Sikkerneq, she never actually agreed to help the slavers, and I think you’ll like what she does with them when you get there.

Ooh, Rekke speaks Aedyran now. Let’s break for some cute.

Given everything we now know about the history of Yezuha and all of his dialogue throughout the DLCs, I suspect the singular God of Yezuha is just the gods of Engwith viewed as aspects of a single deity rather than separate beings. I’m open to being proven wrong, though. (Especially through the medium of a third game, ahem, Obsidian.)

“This defiance will be your last” my ass. Eat a dick, Galawain, and not the fun kind. And we’ll be seeing each other again on Kazuwari.

A junk has been acquired and named The Almond of the World. (Totally meaningless brownie points to anyone who gets the references in my ship names.) Junks are expensive as Hel, but they’re good ships, they give me an excuse to hire and experience more sailors, and I like the positions the companions stand in on a junk better than on a galleon (Konstanten and Fassina can overhear each other’s conversations with you, for one).

Maia’s quest is done. Atsura has been given a stern talking-to about sending her to assassinate civilians, and mademoiselle’s romance finally started. Whew. Really, Maia, we’re getting towards the late game here.

Ishiza has been fed well. And talked to. Really, Hylea. Really.

All of this was in the doorway to Atsura’s office, for the record. I’d almost rather the hazanui—Atsura’s got to be one of the biggest boner-kills in the Deadfire.

Fassina has been acquired, finally. Good thing I remembered now rather than leaving it for when she’s level 20 with no points in Athletics, leaving her permanently unable to use Second Wind, which I tend to rely heavily on so I can worry less about healing.

The sandswept ruins are still bullshit and I hate them, but loading Sikkerneq up with Mechanics and keeping Maia and her 17 Perception in the party meant I was able to disarm enough traps to get through the place pretty much unscathed.

Ori o Koīki sure is...colorful. Yes. That’s the word.

Aloth’s quest is done. You keep doing the thing, Aloth. But maybe keep in mind how complex this project is.

To Crookspur! Hey, Serafen, want to help murder some slavers?

Mmmmmmmurder. Maia got the killing blow on Master Kua with an empowered attack that also helped her level up her soulbound gun. Multitasking!

Kana! Oh, Kana, it’s good to see you. I’m sure your sister agrees. Learn anything interesting in your travels?

Oh, that’s where Ruasāre disappeared to. Huh.

Next up, Ashen Maw, I think. I’m getting to the “running low on stuff to do” point.

#pillars of eternity #deadfire #watcher Sikkerneq

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pristinepastel · 6 years ago

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30 Day Watcher Challenge

finally have the motivation so IVE FINALL FINISHED IT-

Day 23

I mean neither Waiola OR me have favorites, but the pet adoptions that stuck out the most for her were the baby laguefaeth, wyrm, and the undead cat!

Day 24

Waiola prefers going back to Caed Nua often, as long as she nearby. She really loves renovating the keep as often as possible, and she especially loves tending her garden and hedge maze(which i just remembered existed). She also makes an effort to teach herself reading and writing when possible- Aloth usually helps when he can.

However, when she’s not close by, she also enjoys sleeping out in nature. She feels that keen connection to all life, it helps her fall asleep. She’s going to have the nightmares either way, so why bother staying up, right? She doesn’t really enjoy inns, but doesn’t hate them either, since most of her party usually prefers being indoors. She usually takes the bed closest to an open window, though.

Day 25

Other than the gardening and general upkeep of Caed Nua, Waiola enjoys healing. She also likes collecting items that she’s given after helping people. She tends to take a lot of mementos from her travels- the diving helmet from White March, for instance, and the empty bottle of wine that Lady Webb left behind. She never drinks from it.

Day 26

Other than being a watcher, Waiola gained an aversion to fire after the plantation burned. If she sees a flicker of flame out of the corner of her eye, she flinches. She’s alright when she sees someone casting it directly, though. She’s just afraid of fire suddenly sneaking up on her.

Also, she’s afraid of Galawain.

Day 27

At the start of the game, she’s skittish, quiet, timid, more easily startled. She tends to help people no matter what, usually without needing to think first. She’s very unsure of herself and her safety.

By the end of the game, she’s mellowed out considerably. She’s still highly empathetic, but less easily shaken. She’s more confident, not as frightened. She’s still easily flustered by compliments, but she doesn’t react as strongly. Having gained so many friends, as well as finding a home, did wonders for her. She’d lay down her life for these people.

Day 28

Here’s a whole bunch of songs that fit Waiola!

https://itunes.apple.com/us/playlist/waiola/pl.u-6mo4l1WFB6Bo2lL

Also as a bonus, Alarhî’s playlist!

https://itunes.apple.com/us/playlist/alarh%C3%AE/pl.u-PDb40pAsLgL4MPR

Day 29

Her first thought was that it was very cold. She liked the people. Although she almost had a panic attack fighting those slavers to help Ailef become free, she’d do it again in a heartbeat.The tragedy she heard unfold on the dwarves of Durgan’s battery saddened her greatly, but she was glad she could help them find peace. She seemed out the forge to help the people of Stalwart. She negotiated peace with the Crag ogres.

Day 30

If you thought Waiola would ever not try for a peaceful solution you clearly haven’t met her yet. She helped the people of Stalwart, the readcerans, and the ogres come into a beneficial relationship.

After much debate in her mind, she decided it would be best to put the low tide ondrites out of their misery. In them she saw Maerwald, and what she might become, and decided that if she ever ended up like them, she’d want to be put to rest. After all that, when she realized Kaoto was going back on his duty, she was angered.

“After putting your predecessors through such an ordeal, you’d deny your responsibility to them out of fear for yourself? You’d disrespect them like this?! Shame on you!”

She was able to sway the other ondrites there to her side of the battle.

She’s very... intimidated by the eyeless when she’s fighting them, but when she’s talking to them, she realizes they actually look kind of cute, in a silly way.

She felt conflicted when she heard about Ondra and Abydons past. While she was saddened by the loss of love, she was also highly concerned about how Ondra was manipulating Abydons lack of memory to change him. She was sympathetic to their plight, but she won’t say it didn’t confuse the hells out of her.

In the end, Waiola took the hammer and buried the eyeless personally. She was fully expecting to drown with them, trusting her friends to end the fight with Thaos on her behalf- though it didn’t end up playing out that way. She was able to persuade the eyeless to temper Abydons memories- let him remember, but also understand the perspective of others involved as well.

#30daywatcherchallenge #pillars of eternity deadfire #pillars of eternity #Waiola #pristine did a page #pristine did a create #pristine did a playthrough

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queen-scribbles · 6 years ago

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Shallow

For @pillarspromptsweekly #69. Another Roll for It where I picked my elements (Ondra, snow, reunion). This is an idea I’ve been sitting on for a really long time (almost a year), so it ran away with me a bit.*cough* almost 4k *cough*

‘A single strike upon the crystal will not be enough. The Eyeless respond only as long as the hammer rings. You will need to remain until their work is complete, wielding the hammer until the walls come crumbling down.’

Ondra’s words stuck in Emiri’s head, circling like a school of frightened fish. She knew what they meant.

‘You will need to remain...’

Her breath caught shallow in her throat, and if not for Pallegina, she would have been crushed by the Eyeless that lumbered around the corner. The sharp jerk sideways snapped Emiri out of her stupor and she scrambled to contribute to the ensuing fight. But she still wasn’t all there, lingering on the goddess’ words. She knew somehow, despite Edér’s dark humored comment, crushing would not be how she’d go. Not her, Ondra’s least favorite child for reasons Emiri had never figured out.

‘Your sacrifice will be mourned.’

No, if Ondra had any say in it, Emiri would survive the crushing to drown when the moon fragment filled with water. Just the thought of it made her heart pound and blood run cold.

‘Your fate is already sealed.’

She must not have done a good job hiding her distress, because they hadn’t progressed too much further toward their goal when there was a hand on her arm.

“Are you alright?” Aloth asked, then huffed a small laugh though his nose. “Considering.”

Emiri winced as she paused to answer, both at being so easily read, and at the purplish-blue bruise forming under his eye. “Considering, yes. I’ve always suspected Ondra hated me. Never expected to have proof.” She managed a ghost of a smile. “What can you do when the world needs saving?”

‘You have seen what they will do. This is the way you can stop them.’

“Emiri...” Aloth sighed. He knew she wasn’t telling him everything; she could see it on his face. Sometimes it was an annoyance to have a friend who knew her so damn well.

“It’s fine, Aloth. We should keep moving. I doubt the Eyeless will stand around idle to await their destruction.” Emiri rolled her shoulders, Abydon’s hammer seeming heavier than before, and pressed on.

‘This is the way you can stop them.’

That would be worth it, right? Saving the world, protecting her friends, that was worth a death from her darkest nightmares. She could do this.

‘Your sacrifice will be mourned.’

Suddenly she was twelve again, shackled and trapped inside a cabin slowly filling with water. Icy fear worming in the base of her skull.

They all but walked into the next trio of Eyeless and Emiri threw herself at them with a scream of helpless frustration. She let her terror and dread fuel her abilities, trying to inflict just a fraction on the remorseless monsters who’d put her in this position. They proved largely resistant to cipher powers, her one moment of triumph coming when she made a mace-handed one attack a lance-armed compatriot zeroing in on Hiravias.

“Thanks, Watcher!” he laughed, flashing her a toothy grin as he flung out a small ball of fire that leapt between all three of the monstrosities.

Emiri nodded wordlessly, dodging a lance thrust, and slammed her hammer against the Eyeless’ leg.

The fight dragged on longer than expected--Abydon made the Eyeless well--and all of them needed a rest after this last fight. So they tucked themselves in a small alcove and took a few minutes to catch their breath.

Hiravias plunked himself down next to Emiri and gave her a dark smile as he held out his jerky to share. “It’s fun when the gods decide you’re special, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes, I’m enjoying myself immensely,” Emiri sighed. The light of her halo rippled. “Everyone acts like it’s such an honor to draw the attention of the gods, but...”

“Sometimes you wish they’d shut up and leave you alone?” he supplied, biting off a mouthful of jerky.

“Exactly.” She leaned forward and braced her elbows against her knees. “It’s more a burden than anything.”

“They do have a funny way of showing their regard,” Hiravias agreed. He scratched idly at the scars covering half his face. “Galawain saw fit to make me far less handsome, and Ondra’s outright trying to kill you.”

“That’s nothing new,” Emiri said with a grim almost-smile. “Ondra’s had it in for me since I was eight. Guess she regretted favoring me with her touch.”

“If she’s been after you since you were eight, you’re more resilient than I thought.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Thank you?”

“I already knew you were tough as shit, Watcher,” he clarified, wolfing down the rest of his jerky in two mouthful. “This just adds to it.”

She laughed quietly. “Well, in that case, a more definite thank you.” She sighed. No point in delaying the inevitable. “We should get moving again” --she turned to the rest of the group--”if everyone’s ready?”

There were nods and murmurs of assent from the others. Trying to ignore the nerves fluttering in her chest, Emiri pushed to her feet and led the way further into the fragmented moon.

They passed through another open chamber with a pool of cold, still water at the center, and Emiri couldn’t stop herself from peering into its depths. She half expected to see more of Ondra’s Hair, come to double down on shallow, emotionless promises her sacrifice would be mourned. But there was nothing aside from the flash of scales as lagufaeth darted in and out of view. She wasn’t sure if that was more disappointment or relief.

She wasn’t given long to dwell on it; there were several more groups of Eyeless to fight and she was determined not to split her focus anymore. These fights went much better, though it was still frustrating that they were all but immune to her cipher abilities. Emiri wound up largely just supporting and protecting her friends as they dealt with the creatures.

It was almost a relief--in a perverse, twisted sense--that the last obstacle between them and the crystal column was a kraken. Emiri was far from eager to reach the end of this road, but it was good to have a foe she could actually fight and contribute more than shielding her friends. The fight was still far from easy, but at at last the gigantic beast sank lifeless beneath the surface. They dispatched the pair of Eyeless that lumbered up with only slightly more difficulty, and then it was time. No more delays.

‘Your fate is sealed.’

Emiri looked at her friends, breath coming fast and shallow as it sank in this might be the last time she saw them. She would try to get out once everything came crashing down--why start passively accepting death now?--but wasn’t optimistic about her chances.

‘Your sacrifice will be mourned.’

Yes, but not by you. Emiri had no illusions Ondra actually cared. It would be her friends, the kith who had followed her down here, battered, bruised, and in a couple cases bleeding. They would be doing the mourning. Not some distant uncaring god.

“Miri? You alright?” Edér nudged her arm. “You usually only go all quiet like that when you’re havin’ one of your Watcher moments.”

“Just... collecting my thoughts,” she said softly. Abydon’s hammer was heavy on her back, heavier in her hands as she walked closer and sized up the crystal column. “This... isn’t easy.”

Water filling her mouth, the surface was too far no matter how hard she kicked. The nightmare was real this time, ready to swallow her whole.

“Let me.”

Emiri was so absorbed in fighting through through the fear that it took a couple heartbeats to realize someone had spoken. Someone had offered to take her place.

It took a couple more to realize it had been Aloth, one hand already wrapped around the hammer’s haft so she couldn’t swing it.

“No.” Every fiber of her being, down to the depths of her soul, twisted in vehement rebellion at the thought of asking him--letting him--do this. She pulled the hammer toward her chest, trying to dislodge his grip. “Absolutely not! This is-”

The words stuck in her throat. Terrifying. Necessary. Something I have to do.

Aloth didn’t let go. He met her gaze, eyes somber but glinting with determination at least the match of hers. “I know how much this... fate frightens you,” he said softly. “You told me, under the abbey.”

Emiri snorted and tugged on the hammer again. “I also told you it wasn’t a death I would wish on my worst enemy or strangers who hadn’t done anything to me. Do you really think it’s something I can condemn my best friend to?”

“You’re not.” Something flickered in his eyes, but he squared his shoulders and maintained his dogged grip on the hammer. “Emiri, I... I have had many decisions made for me in my life, followed orders I neither understood not questioned. This is different. This is my choice.”

“But-” The words wouldn’t come, jamming against each other, caught on the lump in Emiri’s throat. She couldn’t let him do this, couldn’t risk losing him. It should be her, was supposed to be her.

“You are the only one who can stop Thaos, Watcher,” Aloth pointed out, emphasizing the word even as she flinched. “Even aside from my more personal reasons, the world still needs you.”

But I need you. She didn’t say it. Didn’t let go of the hammer either. “Aloth...”

“I’ll not be far behind you,” he said, but she could feel the waver in his soul. He only half-believed the words even as he spoke them. “I have warding spells that can help. And I do, in fact, know how to swim.”

Well, that was one he had on her. Emiri finally, reluctantly, loosened her grip. “If you’re sure...”

“I am.” Aloth wrapped both hands around the hammer haft. He got a good grip, took a step closer to the crystal.

“Oh, wait!” Emiri sniffled, darting to where the others silently waited. She tugged Kana over and dug through his pack until she found the diving helmet Mylla had told her about. It was too small for her, so she wasn’t going to bother, but maybe for an elf... “Never hurts to improve your odds, right?” she said, trying for light-hearted.

Aloth nodded and mustered a smile. “Thank you. You... you should start on your way out. I have a feeling it will not be easy.”

The knot in her chest tightened further and her breath came short and sharp. I can’t- Strangling off the sob that was trying to escape, she pulled him into a hug, hammer and all, tight enough his knuckles dug into her ribs. “You better not be far behind,” she murmured fiercely before letting go.

If he wasn’t, if Ondra took the best friend she’d had in her life, Emiri was fully prepared to storm the Beyond itself to make the Sea Queen fix it.

But it wouldn’t come to that, because he was going to escape, she told herself firmly as she rejoined the others. She refused to let herself dwell on any other outcome. “Let’s go,” she said brusquely, heading back for the embankment they’d slid down to get in. “It’ll get much harder once he starts.”

Aloth gave them just enough time to scale the embankment before the first clear--almost beautiful--ring of hammer against crystal resounded through the cavern. It pierced through Emiri’s heart, and if it weren’t for Kana and Pallegina tugging her arms she would have frozen on the spot. A second clear tone resonated, and the ground trembled.

They ran.

No looking back, it would hurt too much, just forward, forward, forward. Up a tunnel as the walls cracked, past the pool where she’d glimpsed lagufaeth as rocks fell from the ceiling.

And slap-bang into the first of the Eyeless as the path crumbled at the edges. Emiri felt as the creatures’ focus shifted from answering the hammer’s summons to this more immediate annoyance. Before they could fully bring their attention to bear, she lashed out, one of the charms she hated to use flying from her lips. These were vessels, not kith, and her friends were in danger. To her surprise it actually worked this time, and her vicious Not us, them had a large knot of the Eyeless attacking their fellows.

“Come on,” she hissed, leading the way past the distracted monsters. That charm wouldn’t last long, and then they would resume their inexorable march toward the still-ringing crystal. As long as there wasn’t anything closer at hand to capture their attention.

They ran on, as the hammered crystal tone rose and swelled behind them. It was louder now, aided by the Eyeless who had reached the cavern. Emiri wondered if it was hurting Aloth’s ears with how close he was. They passed more Eyeless as they scrambled through the crumbling tunnels, but these were too entranced by the resonating crystal tone, almost deafening now, to be much of a threat.

At least Ondra was right about that, Emiri thought dryly as she dodged an idle swipe from a lance-armed Eyeless. She almost tripped over Hiravias a few seconds later when he rolled into her path avoiding a mace-handed one. The tunnels were narrowing, which meant they were getting close to the entrance.

A particularly large chunk of the ceiling crashed down behind them, almost grazing Kana’s back and startling a curse out of Edér. Emiri cringed as she wondered how much worse it was at the heart of all this destruction.

Pallegina blurted something in Vailian and pointed ahead. “Look!”

There was light. Dim and flicking, but there. They were almost out. Almost safe. They rounded the final bend just as a fresh cascade of stone and debris tumbled into the opening as the moon fragment gave a violent lurch. The path wobbled and dropped from under them and another sound filtered up under the din of ringing crystal.

Rushing water.

Fear prickled up Emiri’s spine and she willed herself not to think about anything beyond clearing those rocks. No flashbacks, no thinking about Aloth. Just getting the rest of them out of here. Even as she opened her mouth to see if anyone could take care of it, Hiravias’ voice rose in a familiar spell. A pair of boulders flew from his outstretched hand and smashed through the rubble.

He fell behind, limping, as they resumed their retreat, and Emiri dropped back to grab his arm and pull him up. She heard him hiss out a pained curse and boosted him high enough to wrap his arms around her neck as she ran. Ionni Brathr was already trying its damnedest to claim one of her friends, it couldn’t have another.

They all tumbled free of the rotating moon fragment, feet skidding as they hit the ice. A thunderous crash echoed out behind them and the ice started to splinter with long, jagged cracks. Emiri balled her hands into fists as she scanned for a safe path across.

Must be chest high or deeper by now... She viciously pushed away the thought as Kana’s rich baritone rose in competition with nature itself, lending speed to their feet through song.

It wasn’t until the sting of wind hit her face that Emiri realized she was crying. She swiped at the frozen tears as she ran, bringing up the rear thanks to the added weight of an orlan clinging to her back. There was a loud groan behind her as the moon turned and sank yet further.

Don’t look back. She was almost to the shore. The others had made, Edér and Pallegina each holding out a hand as they hollered encouragement.

A crack rent the air just behind her and ice shards stung the back of her legs. Usher spare us all.

Her last first steps punched partway through the weakened ice, sending her and Hiravias tumbling into the snow. Emiri muddled her way up to her knees and stared back the way they’d come. Only the moon’s tip was visible above the surface now. She watched it sink through blurry eyes, barely registering when Edér and Kana each rested a hand on her shoulders. Pushed to her feet as the ripples faded, wading into the shallows as the icy water lapped over the tops of her boots. As if there was anything she could do. A shiver raced through her and Emiri hugged her arms in close, nails digging into her coat until she could feel them through the leather and fur as she poured all her focus into a single word. Please.

One heartbeat.

Two.

Three.

At five the tears started running again and her chest heaved, teetering on the verge of a sob. No, Usher, please. Please don’t....

There was a sharp crack, loud in the silence,even though it paled next to the cacophony of a few moments ago. Emiri swiveled toward the sound just in time to see an arm punch through the ice.

Please.

She was already moving in that direction, frozen fingers tugging open the clasps on her coat, when Aloth’s head came into view and he started pulling himself out of the icy water. Emiri dropped to her knees and skidded across the last couple feet of the ice floe to help him. She hauled him up running on pure adrenaline and bundled him in her heavy, fur-lined coat as he finally released his death grip on his grimoire.

He was alive. Soaked to the bone, shaking from the cold, and sporting several additional bruises and cuts, but alive.

Thank you, Emiri thought fervently in the direction of whichever god or force of nature had answered her as she wrapped Aloth in a hug. “What happened to warding spells?” she asked with a shaky laugh, joy and relief bubbling in her chest. “You’re almost the same color as me.”

Aloth smirked at the weak joke. “They only lasted about two thirds of the way up. And it’s nigh impossible to cast underwater.” He shivered. “If we could perhaps move off the ice...?”

“Oh, of course!” Emiri carefully pushed to her feet and helped him up. His hair was starting to freeze, she realized, and belatedly tugged the hood of her coat up over his head. “I still can’t believe...”

“Neither can I,” Aloth admitted as he bent to pick up his grimoire. “Especially after the first surge of water carried away the helmet.”

“I don’t care,” Emiri said frankly through a hiccuping sob-laugh, hugging him again. “Gods, I don’t care, Aloth, I...”

He wrapped his free arm around her in return. “I know.”

By this point, Edér and Kana had traversed the much safer shore to reach them and begun cautiously making their way out onto the ice. Edér grinned cheerfully and quipped, “Hey, look who’s back from the dead.”

Aloth rolled his eyes as he stepped back from Emiri. “I wasn’t-”

“You were as good as,” Edér cut him off, grin spreading wider when the only response that got was another eyeroll. “C’mon, Pallegina’s tryin’ to start a fire for while she sees what’s up with Hiravias’ leg.”

That sounded wonderful to Emiri, and she wasn’t the one who was soaked head to toe standing on a crack-riddled chunk of ice. All four started to head toward their friends, but Emiri was distracted as the water in the hole rippled violently. She froze, thanks to curiosity more than the weather, and noted in her peripheral Kana had as well.

He edged closer to her as a lagufaeth popped out of the water, its red and gold scales shimmering in the morning sun. It eyed her with far more intelligence than wilder creatures usually displayed. A familiar intelligence, she realized.

Emiri squinted at the lagufaeth. Exandru...?

It squawked and dropped Abydon’s hammer--she hadn’t even noticed that was gone, too--on the ice ‘Our debt for our freedom is repaid by your friend’s life, Watcher.’ shimmered through her mind.

She nodded and the lagufaeth gave a disgruntled hiss before diving back in the still-trembling water. Still-trembling? She frowned. The lake should be settling by now. She was too drained to deal with anything else weird, they needed to get back to Stalwart--

The fragment of Ionni Brathr rose back out of the lake, the large swaths of broken ice knit back together, and the Eyeless spiraled out to demand explanations for the attempt at their destruction.

Emiri was only too happy to point the finger at Ondra, both for painting the destruction as necessary and corrupting their purpose in the first place. Only too happy to agree some things--like the Engwithan culture--were worth preserving (Kana’s gushing may have tempered her feelings on that subject). Only too happy to encourage they reform Abydon, memory intact, and preserve history once more. Only too happy to part peacefully, no need for conflict, hopefully now in the good graces of at least one god.

She and Kana stood for a long moment in silence after the Eyeless retreated. Then he wrapped an arm comfortingly around her shoulders and guided her back to join their friends.

They took a much-needed but abbreviated rest as Pallegina checked Hiravias’ leg--his knee was badly bruised from falling rock,would hurt to walk on for a while, but no permanent damage--before striking out for Stalwart. Under other circumstances, maybe they would have camped near the lake and dealt with the cold, but Emiri would be damned if she let Aloth freeze to death after he narrowly escaped drowning. She and Kana and Edér traded off carrying Hiravias piggyback. Hiravias grumbled abundant displeasure with this arrangement--especially on Edér’s turns--but even he acknowledged it was the best option.

It took until early evening to reach Stalwart, and it wasn’t until they were safely ensconced in one of the finest rooms the Gréf’s Rest had to offer that Emiri’s heart slowed and she allowed herself a deep breath. They were all alive. Despite the long odds and Ondra’s somber pronouncements, no one had died, a fact that left her shaky with relief.

“I never said thank you,” she commented quietly to Aloth as the two of them sat near-but-not-too-near the fire, nudging his foot with hers.

He smiled, shifted the mug of tea he was nursing. “It was implied.”

“No.” Emiri shook her head, staring at a long scrape that disappeared up his sleeve. “You were willing to die for me, simply because you know that death scares me more than any other. Implied thanks is not good enough.” She held his gaze. “Thank you, Aloth.”

He looked ready to protest, but instead took a long drink of his tea before simply saying, “You’re welcome.” A beat. “It was the least I could do.”

She snorted and shot him a skeptical look. “Pretty sure that rates a little higher than the least, no matter how much you think I’ve done for you.”

Aloth smiled at her again over the rim of his mug. “Agree to disagree.”

She was too tired and too grateful to have this debate with him(again), so Emiri simply shrugged and curled her hands tighter around her own mug of tea. “Warm yet?”

Aloth looked down at his hands, seemed gratified there wasn’t any more blue tingeing his fingernails, and nodded. “Getting there.”

“Good.”

They lapsed into silence after that, both too tired to do more than simply enjoy each others’ company. Because they were alive and they could.

It was a very good feeling.

#queens fic #pillars prompts weekly #emiri #aloth corfiser #hiravias #ondra #the number of times emiri thought SUCK IT ONDRA during the denouement made me giggle #brotp: woven together

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captainofthefallen · 7 years ago

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30 Day Watcher Challenge- Day 15

Prompt list here

15. decisions, pt. 3 – act III & IV: what does your watcher think of twin elms? which of the gods do they turn to at teir evron, and how do they feel about receiving divine support? how do they feel about the final confrontation with thaos? what do they ultimately decide to do with thaos, iovara, and the souls at sun in shadow?

She thinks for a moment. “I really think I should go back there,” she says at last. “You can’t really appreciate a place when the entire time you’re there you keep seeing things out of the corner of your eye, you’re terrified you’ll go mad before you can save the world or yourself, you can’t sleep anymore because of the nightmares, and you’re finally remembering what your past life did that was so awful and, well, let’s just say I just about threw up.” She takes a deep breath.

“Sorry, that was a lot. Twin Elms was not a fun time for me. It was beautiful, of course, and under any other circumstances I would’ve loved the opportunity to learn about Glanfathan culture, but as it was… I was barely holding together. I think having my friends at my back was the only thing keeping me sane. Edér and Aloth especially, I couldn’t… well. When we heard Awakenings couldn’t be undone, the only thing that kept me from breaking down right there was that I could focus on worrying about Aloth. But really, that entire conversation with the delemgan was… while it was my last shred of hope, it was also… really, really unsettling.”

You ask how--what did the delmgan tell her?

“They said my only hope was to pray for help.” She sighs. “You know how I feel about most of the gods, so I’m sure you can imagine how well that went over. But in the end I decided to treat it just as I would asking for help from another person. So I talked to all of them. Just to figure out what my options were. And in the end, I was glad. It was sort of… I was able to get a fuller picture by getting each of their perspectives.

“As for deciding whose position to support, well. Ondra, Skaen, and Rymrgand were out just on principle. Ondra and I will never agree on anything, because I’m stubborn that way, she tried to kill me, and I hate her guts. If she even has guts. Anyway. I considered Berath’s suggestion, I considered it long and hard, but in the end… I wanted to do something good. Something that would help, that would make a difference. So it came down to Hylea, or Galawain, Magran, and Abydon.” She runs a hand through her hair. “Abydon’s my favorite, and at the time I was a little bit… shall we say peeved at Hylea because she wouldn’t give Pallegina the answers she wanted. Galawain’s never done anything to piss me off, and I talked to them before I truly figured out Magran was conspiring with Woedica, though I had my suspicions. In the end, the deciding factor was something Berath said to me. I asked why returning the souls to the Wheel would be better than returning to their bodies, and Berath… Berath said that they were… frayed. Battered, damaged, suffering. Of course, I didn’t know if it was true, but it made sense. I felt what it was like, someone having their soul ripped out by that machine. I couldn’t imagine that anyone could go through that and not have… lasting damage, you know?” She sighs.

“Returning the souls to their bodies just sounded… too good to be true, really. And in the end, I decided that using their essence to strengthen the rest of the Dyrwood was less of a risk.” She drops her head into her hands. “Gods, it sounds so damn cold when I say it like that. Like I wasn’t agonizing over it all the way into Sun in Shadow. Like I just took hold of the threads of fate and played god for a moment. And really, that’s what I did. But I didn’t do it lightly.”

Tirsa crosses to sit beside her, resting a hand on her knee. “You did the only thing you could, Mara,” she says quietly. She looks up at you. “I believe what she intends to say is, returning the souls to the Hollowborn risked doing more harm. If they returned to their bodies broken, screaming in agony from being flayed alive for anywhere as long as years, it would destroy their families. Galawain’s way… the souls remained lost, but those who remained found the courage and the strength they needed to face it. Do you understand?”

You nod slowly, mulling it over for a moment before you ask your next question. What of Thaos?

She takes another deep breath, a bitter smile on her face. “He failed,” she says simply. “Hundreds of lifetimes of memories, of planning and scheming and preparing, and he failed. I destroyed him,” she adds. “For a moment, down there in the dark, I pitied him. And I know enough of him to know that he would have hated it. But letting him return to the cycle was too great a risk. How many lifetimes had his memories returned to him? If the gods wanted it badly enough, they could have done it again. There would be no peace for him. So I reached into his soul, and I willed it into dust.” She meets your eyes, and there’s something cold and serious in hers. “His existence was dedicated to the preservation of one secret. He’s destroyed civilizations, tortured, killed, stolen the souls of children, all for this one goal. So that no one would learn the truth.”

Tirsa touches her arm. “My dear, you are being dramatic.”

She gives a wry smile. “Well, it deserves a little drama. Thaos’ secret was that the gods didn’t make kith. Kith made the gods.” She shakes her head. “He thought--so many of his people, really, even my past life, thought that kith would be worse if they knew. He told me all the false gods of the time, all the terrible things kith did in their names, and I look at kith today and ask how this is any better. Kith find excuses to do terrible things all the time. But maybe… maybe if there were no gods, at least some of them would take responsibility for their own damn actions. The Eothasian Purges. Those who believed in light and redemption, slaughtered because kith thought Magran wanted them to.” She shakes her head again, touching a hand to her forehead. “I keep coming back to this, I know, but it’s the same way in my thoughts. Maybe nothing would change. But--thinking a little selfishly for a moment--if there were no gods, I wouldn’t be on the hit list of at least one incredibly powerful, dangerously flawed being. So there’s that.”

You ask about the past self she mentioned, and the terrible things she did. How did she come to terms with it?

“I betrayed my sister to Thaos. I gave her to him, I watched her broken on the wheel, every bone in her body broken, some shattered, and I did it all because I was afraid. Because I was afraid of the truth.” She sighs. “There is no coming to terms with that, really. But I’ve learned from it. I’ve accepted that it wasn’t me, that there’s nothing I can do to change it, and I’ve accepted Iovara’s forgiveness, but… well, maybe, once, I would have wished I could forget. The look on her face as her eyes met mine, just looking at me from that wheel. But I can’t. And I wouldn’t choose to even if I could.” She looks at you. “She’s still there, you know. In that soul prison, in Sun in Shadow. And if the day ever comes when the gods can’t stop me, I’ll go back for her. I’ll release her. Because she was my sister. She deserves peace.” Another bitter smile. “Or maybe it’s me who needs peace. Maybe she’s fine where she is and I’m just projecting my own guilt onto her. But I’ll do it anyway. Because if nothing else, she deserves a choice.”

#30 day watcher challenge #day 15 #mara emerys #tirsa vayol

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dragonologist-phd · 5 years ago

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"Let me ask the prophetess Memory" for Nona? Or Desta, if Nona doesn't feel it.

“Let me ask the prophetess Memory” (”Αναερείπωση”)

thank you for the prompt! I was really expecting to do this for Nona, but then Desta popped up with an idea that wouldn’t go away, so enjoy this bit of Desta and Woedica hating each others’ guts!

(AO3)

The book is delivered by a mysterious, hooded person who disappears from the docks just as quickly as they arrived, giving Desta no time to ask any questions before the thing is thrust into her hands. It’s quite obviously ancient, burnt beyond legibility and nearly falling part, held together only by some strange magic that sends a shiver down Desta’s spine. The unfamiliar magic should be a warning sign…but Desta is curious.

She lifts open the front cover slowly, noting the odd warmth emanating from the book’s spine. As the stiff pages move under Desta’s fingers, a voice fills her head with the sort of echoing power that she has only ever heard from the gods.

“Watcher”. The voice is imperious and thoroughly self-assured in its condescension, and it isn’t difficult for Desta to identify the speaker. A strange power threatens to wash over her, similar to the way Berath has previously pulled her into the In Between, and Desta barely has enough time to slam the book shut before it fully takes effect.

Promptly, she turns on her heels and chucks Woedica’s book into the ocean. She has quite enough to deal with already without throwing that into the mix.

Unfortunately, the problem of the book is not so easily dealt with. Desta is rummaging through her bag two days later when instead of a spyglass her fingers brush up against the spine of the thick, tattered, most-definitely-not-soaking book. Perhaps it’s just her imagination, but the increased heat it gives off feels almost indignant.

Still, Desta refuses to open it. She tries throwing it away a few more times, only for it to consistently reappear among her possessions, each time growing warmer and warmer until just touching it nearly burns her fingers. But for all its stubbornness, the book does not force its visions upon her, so for the most part Desta is able to pretend it isn’t there.

Meanwhile, the looks Desta receives from Woedica whenever Berath invades her dreams to hold court with the gods only get more and more scathing as time goes on. Desta doesn’t pay them much mind. After everything she’s already been through because of the high and mighty queen of the gods, courtesy is quite low on the list of her concerns.

“Ah. The insolent Watcher.”

Desta blinks, surprised, as she realizes she is still standing in the In Between. This is normally the part where the gods, having had their fill of arguing with both her and each other, leave Desta with vague ultimatums and fade away to do whatever it is they do when they’re not making demands of Watchers.

But this time is different. This time, one god lingers, and Desta finds herself under the cold, disapproving gaze of Weodica.

Desta releases a long, tired sigh before answering. “That’s me. What’s this about? Don’t tell me you need the last word so badly you’re actually willing to suffer my presence.”

Woedica’s expression, already stony, somehow hardens even further. “Your disregard for your gods does you no credit.”

The air around Desta seems to grow thin as Woedica speaks, and for a few moments she finds it increasingly difficult to breathe. A small part of knows this is unwise, reminds her that provoking gods who already hate her is not good for her health. But Desta is done playing their games. She’s faced Galawain. She’s faced Rymrgand. She’s spent over a year arguing with Berath on a regular basis. As much as they may wish to, the gods can’t kill her now; not when they need her.

Stubbornly, Desta pushes through the sensation, clenching her jaw as she meets Woedica’s stare head-on. “None of you are my gods.”

Woedica is silent for a moment, and the pressure around Desta releases slightly. “Is that your aim, then? You support Eothas in his foolhardy endeavor to hand the world over to kith- the very same kith who could not even come together to address the threat he poses?”

“Eothas is no better than the rest of you,” Desta snaps. “Trampling through the Deadfire because he thinks he knows what’s best for us. But if I’m being honest, a world without the gods sounds pretty good to me.”

Anger flashes in Woedica’s eyes, venom leaking into her voice as she responds. “So self-righteous. So convinced you alone have the answers.” The goddess considers Desta for a moment. “A world without gods. I remember what that is like. We all do, but it is I who still see that world the clearest; after all, memory has always been my domain. And I remember that it was a world kith did not desire to live in.”

“Your opinion on that isn’t exactly unbiased,” Desta points out. “Beside,s this isn’t the world you remember. A lot has changed. We don’t need a bunch of hypocritical, cowardly-”

“Watch your tongue, mortal,” Woedica commands, and this time the air is forced out of Desta’s lungs. It only lasts a moment, but it leaves Desta doubled over and gasping for air as the goddess stands over her, cold and impassive.

“Berath has been far too lenient with you. You need to be taught proper respect.” She studies Desta for a moment in silent judgment. “You say the world has changed enough to move on without us. That remains to be seen. The truth of your words would be easier to discern had you cooperated with me from the start. But I have been observing you all the same. Decisions will need to be made soon, and those decisions will be determined by your performance on this journey.”

Desta’s breathing has finally steadied enough for her to speak again. “Is that what this is about? An evaluation of my performance?” She laughs, and the sound is only slightly delirious. “Let me guess- you have some critiques?”

“Naturally,” Woedica answers drily. “You are emotional. Impulsive. Foolish. You are an example of why kith obviously still need the guidance of the gods to keep them from destroying themselves.” She pauses, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “And yet some of my brethren still disagree. And some of your actions thus far will make it difficult to argue my case.”

That catches Desta by surprise. She wonders for a moment whether it was meant as a condemnation or a compliment, and in the end she simply shrugs. “Making things difficult for gods is a specialty of mine, I guess.”

Woedica remains unimpressed. “Perhaps you should focus that ability on Eothas. The future of the world will depend on your next encounter with him. Do try not to ruin that future with your stubbornness.”

After awakening from her time in the In Between, Desta makes her way upwards to the deck of her ship. She leans against the railing, turning over her latest conversation with the gods in her head. In the distance, the storms around Ondra’s Mortar rage on, growing closer with every passing minute. Ukaizo- and Eothas- lie just beyond.

Desta pulls the book from its insistent position in her bag. It’s still warm, but no longer threatens to burn her hands as she holds it out in front of her.

Woedica thinks a future without the leadership of gods is destined for failure. But Desta has seen for herself what happens when the gods rule unchallenged. Honestly, she thinks the world can do better. She thinks the world deserves better.

Desta has no idea what the future holds, and she’d be lying is she said that didn’t scare her at all. But she knows that some things belong in the past. “We’re not repeating old mistakes,” she says quietly. “Maybe we’ll make some new ones. But we’ll handle them on our own.”

She drops the book into the sea, and as it disappears below the waves, she has a feeling that this time it won’t be coming back.

#pillars of eternity #ch: desta #writing prompt #risualto

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ellebeebee · 7 years ago

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There Thou Goest Also

Part 3 of 4: Wheel

One | Two | Four

First PoE work, and I wanted to examine my Watcher’s spiritual growth over the game’s events. Sharp, a folk death godlike from Vailia, has a complicated relationship with Berath. Expect self-indulgent backstory and vigilante world building.

2275 words, f!Watcher & All The Friends She Made Along The Way, (no pairing), teen rating by AO3

On AO3

“Come on,” Hiravias cajoled. “We’re just talking, okay? Let me play the heretic’s advocate.”

Sharp toed at the crumbling wagon rut in the road. She looked at him walking on the other side.

“… Eh, what? My Aedyran is not so good. I am not with the understanding.”

He kicked a rock at her which she easily jumped over to avoid.

“That joke was only funny the first hundred times,” he said.

She exhaled in a great overdone gust of breath. “I would rather not.”

“Don’t be such a fucking coward. It’s just words. You, dark-stabby-scion-of-woooo-death-- scared of some words? C’mon.”

“Big words for such a small man.”

“Who said I’m small everywhere?”

“Yes? Prove it. And none of this growing pigshit.”

Hiravias’s hands flew to cover the crotch of his breeches with his eyes wide, aghast. “How dare you?! I am a decent young man from an upstanding family, you hussy!”

Sharp kicked a cloud of dust over him. He coughed and swatted at the air.

“Oh sure,” he wheezed. “Abuse the Glanfathan orlan. It’s fine. My people are used to it. We know how to endure atrocities after centuries of persecution.”

She waited until his theatrics of hacking and slapping at his clothes petered off. “I do not see why you are the heretic here.”

“Because,” he said. His voice lost the playful high edge, and deepened. He stared at her with his good eye, the cat pupil following the curls of black smoke.

She scowled. “I said before--”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved at her. He put on a foolish Vailian accent: “I hate that bastard Cirono! They ruined my life, stole my girlfriend, and killed my dog! Eh, Pallegina, what is the word--”

She flung a hand at his head in a backhand, which he easily ducked under.

“Come on, Watcher. You can’t act like you haven’t been getting all ruffled and personally offended every time we find someone sucking the soul out of some dumb asshole’s nostril or whatever. Using it to fix his broken prick.” He watched her continue walking in expressionless silence. “Defying the Wheel and upsetting the natural order.”

“Fine! If it will get you to shut up.”

Hiravias rubbed his hands with relish. “Alright. What’s the point? You die, be reborn, die, blah blah blah-- but what does it mean? Present company excluded, you forget and never keep the lessons you learned before. Is it just an endless cycle of putting up with the harrows of life just so you can die and go through it again?”

“Does your staelgar ask, why hunt? Why breed, why do anything?” Sharp said. She nodded ahead of them where Edér walked with the hound at his heel. “My dog-- I could decide one day to kill her. And she would never question it or know why. Your Wael would not agree, but why wonder at the things beyond our understanding? It will not make a difference.”

“So we just go along, not questioning anything? Accepting everything we’re given? Never look for purpose or reason? Why give kith reason and desire for purpose if we aren’t supposed to look for it? Also, I’m telling Edér about your murderous intentions toward the dog.”

She ignored the last. “Yes, we endure. The no answers is part of it. Besides, you speak as if the life itself is not of worth. Are there conditions to being worth living? Does the cycle let some pass before others? No.”

“But just because we all die doesn’t make our lives worthwhile.”

“No?”

“Hell no. Some people are really a waste of life.”

“This is your Galawain, no?”

“And Wael,” Hiravias said. He studied her, then shrugged. “I guess that’s a point we’ll have to agree to disagree on. That’s a surprise, though. You of all people being so-- nice. Benevolent.”

“I said life was its own worth. Not that I mind to send people on to their next one.”

“Okay. Next point. Why don’t we just kill ourselves then? Restart the cycle if that’s the point.”

“But that is not the point. There is none.”

“But then why do some lives last longer, if all are worthwhile?”

“Length has nothing to do with worth-- and no, I do not care to hear your dick joke.”

“Hey, you brought it up,” Hiravias said, grinning. “Next bit-- if the length of life has no bearing, then why care whether people deliberately lengthen theirs? It is, after all, turning into a particular annoyance of yours.”

Sharp frowned. She had the feeling she was being led around by the nose in this conversation. It was not a dance she knew well, this theology. Debate for her had generally only gone so far as trash talk before a fight. That had been before Hiravias going all inquisitive on the state of her spirituality. Annoying little man.

She was especially annoyed because she knew he had the better of her in this.

Hiravias continued. “For example. What’s the difference between using a healing spell, and say, those that use machines like Teir Nowneth? What makes one perfectly moral and the other an offense against the Wheel? They both extend a life and keep you from dying.”

No, no. Wait. That was not… She struggled internally against his reasonable words. It was beyond clear to her that one was right and the other wrong, but the why of it was difficult to verbalize.

“No-- no, one you only use your own power that will soon return; the other you make a victim of the one you stole the soul from. You keep both yours and the victim’s soul from the Wheel, and break the balance of the world’s cycle.”

“And what of Concelhaut?” he followed quickly, as if expecting her answer. “His method of cheating death was the phylactery in his skull.”

“He wanted to suck my soul out and poke at it for his precious spells.”

“Well, forget about that for the moment. What if he hadn’t wanted your soul and attacked you? What if you just came upon that old bag of bones and his unnaturally long life? You still would have wanted to kill him, wouldn’t you?”

“He likely had stolen his own share of souls we did not know about.”

“Don’t avoid the question--”

“Yes!” she snapped. “Yes, I would have. He was a vile thing. Deformed and ruined. You did not see his soul, Hiravias. It was…”

She shook her head.

“And the Devil? Don’t act like I haven’t seen you looking at her, all contemplative and wondering just how to release her from that bronze can.”

She said nothing for a long moment while he stared at her intently. “… I do not much care about her past, but she is suffering in that thing. Her soul not in this world nor the next. I would kill Galvino but that he might have knowledge of taking her apart.”

Hiravias paused. They had drifted the back of the group; pink and orange crept up from the horizon and the shadows laid long. The others were still moving ahead some distance down the road. He tilted his head and said his next words without venom.

“But what gives you the right? How can you decide when they’ve overstayed their welcome?”

“I do not--”

Her words halted and she felt an uneasy tide in her stomach. Her fingers spasmed and jerked together nervously. Hiravias looked up at her with his cat-like eye gone bright in the waning light. The feeling of being led about by the nose, of being hunted intensified. She knew how to track a mark through the knotted streets of a pitch dark city. She knew how to make a point by slicing a target just so that they would bleed out a horrific mess for someone to find. She knew how to lure an opponent down the strip, their blades skipping in metallic kisses, and drop into the most elegant passata sotto.

But this was unfamiliar to her, and damn Hiravias for knowing it too.

“…You want me to say because my god is guiding me, then I have the right,” she said. “That I have been following divine will all along. This, I can not say. My actions are my own. I alone am responsible for what I do.”

He shook his head. “It’s not so much using a god as an excuse. I think it’s more finding your path in life and using that god to remind you of your way. It’s unavoidable that someone’s gonna disagree with what you do; even the gods fight amongst themselves. But you stick to your path because, well, that’s what you believe in. That’s what strikes you to the core.”

She was silent. He gave her a side-eyed look.

“And sometimes-- your god gives you a sign to let you know--”

“Augh! Enough about my head! I have had a life’s worth of people telling me it’s a sign.” She turned and hurried up the path. The group was nearly out of sight now, and looked like they had stopped, waiting for them. “I would rather have the dick jokes back!”

“Fine, you’ve heard enough about Berath, but you know your Shepherdess? Have I ever told you that she sounds more like an aspect of Eothas? Gaun--”

“No! I am done with gods and your slippery talk. You say one more word--”

Quirinos mes Draghi tapped on his daughter’s door. A great clinking velvet purse dangled in his off hand.

A whapping thud on the other side answered him. He took that as an invitation and swung the door inward. She stood on top of her mattress with her feet planted wide and a dagger held in her fingers by the blade. Throwing knives. A showman’s cheap trick that he disapproved of. He said nothing, though, and closed the door behind him. He half expected a crude drawing of one of the shepherds or the village leaders on the other side. But just the handles of nicked kitchen knives and various daggers stuck out of the wooden door.

She watched him with a slightly wary expression: her mouth set deep and her smoke whirling jerkily.

He sat at the edge of her bed, and after a moment she dropped to a bouncing seat beside him. She twirled the dagger between her dark purple-blue fingers.

He dropped the purse on her lap. “A gift from the marceso. He is extremely sorry, dear.”

“I bet he is.”

She pulled the purse’s strings, looked inside. She grimaced.

Quirinos watched her. “It’s not his fault. We know whose fault it is.”

Standing, she walked to the door. Her fingers plucked a knife out of the wood as she said nothing.

“Don’t worry. The marceso won’t let them go unpunished.”

Internally, he was as furious as she was. But he couldn’t let her see that now; her mindset and her well-being were more important.

She kept pulling blades out. Her back stood straight and sure. He didn’t know the moment when her movement had failed to look childlike to him; although he had no right to be surprised when he’d had so much to do with her training. The growth-mask seemed less like an adorable hat and more… serious.

“Mirèille,” he said. She stopped pulling out knives. Missing just that beat, she tossed them into a jumbled clatter on her desk. She faced him, tucking her arms behind her.

He rubbed his knee. “I am sorry. I failed you.”

She said nothing as her chin tucked incrementally. He could almost read the thoughts whirling in her head, behind that face that he knew so well.

“This was not your fault,” he told her. “It had nothing to do with you. And everything to do with those crazy inbreds out there.”

“And their god?” she bursted sullenly.

He leaned forward on his elbows, looking at her directly. “No. That was not the will of the Padhessa, Cirono. It had nothing to do with the gods.”

She looked aside.

“You know, your mother--”

“Yes, I know-- my mother, she saw that old woman coming for her and felt all warm and fuzzy about it--”

“Do you think it’s just a story I tell you?” he shot back.

She stared at him.

He relaxed. “She felt at peace. Knowing that her life had been full and wonderful, that she had had her portion and it had been good. And the best of it? You. She felt happy that she had brought you here.”

She just stared at him. Ever since she was small, he kept telling her the story on the hope she would take it to heart. He patted the discarded money purse she’d left on the bed.

“This is for tuition, board, and uniforms. The weapons you have are fine for a student, so don’t go getting anything new. And listen, Mirèille,” He leaned to the side to catch her averted eyeless gaze. “The city can be beautiful. Exciting. But those people do not know what real living is. They pretend to life, with their irony and their stylish games-- but they are dead inside. All of them. Remember, always. Every pretty thing in that city has a price with terrifying interest.”

He sighed and stood. He gestured with wide arms, and though she hesitated and grimaced like she was doing him a favor-- she stepped into the hug.

Her wide head-growth tucked under his chin, he patted her on the back. “You are too young to go. Not your skills, though; I have no doubt you will shame all of those upstart merchant’s children. But I am reluctant to let you go.”

She patted him back. “Say what you want, just don’t go crying on me, Pops.”

#pillars of eternity #fanfiction #my writing #in which there is a long winded convo w hiravias #bc bloopitybloop themm god tho #also i love sharp's dad #he's a good egg

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nova-fabula · 4 years ago

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I’ve gone through so many names for my main Pillars of Eternity Watcher that at this point any name feels kinda...weird, so I think I’m just gonna stick with “the Watcher”

Anyway, here’s a bit about them:

-- a Glamfellen (pale elf) from the northern coast of The White That Wends -- due to relatively close proximity and general contact, their clan has developed some distinct and unique characteristics -- those being: a bit shorter and stockier than normal, sharp pointed teeth, and faint patterning on their bodies -- very few have the semi-webbed hands and feet that aumaua do -- they do retain quite a bit of their Glamfellen nature -- most importantly: their skin is extremely pale, translucent and extremely cold to the touch, white or near-white hair -- and, of course, the elven pointed ears -- the Watcher themself doesn’t really remember what their name was before their soul was Awakened. Much of their past is a mystery even to them, and perhaps it should stay that way -- their class is...weird, to say the least. They trained to be a ranger from a very young age, picking a stoat as their companion. They were later taught about druidry from an orlan from Eir Glanfath -- lastly are their cipher abilities. most of them were self taught, but they did pick up much from meeting others during their wandering through the Deadfire Archipelago -- you would think that given their strong connection to nature that they would look to Galawain the Hunter. you would be wrong, as they follow Rymrgand and Berath as Rikuhu -- doesn’t like speaking overly much, and when the situation requires it, says only what is necessary -- tends towards kindness, tempered with a healthy dose of bluntness, in alignment, somewhere around the lawful neutral or true neutral -- extremely curious about the Engwithans, especially due to their soul having been one -- did genuinely love Iovara, but denied those feeling to Thaos to protect herself from being sent to the Inquisition and tortured. in the end, however, they did turn Iovara over to the Leaden Key, whereupon she was tortured and eventually killed for heresy -- if there’s one person the Watcher hates above all else, it’s Thaos. however, realizes how important any information they could get from him made them take his soul into theirs. they also took Maerwald, strengthening their own soul with others -- is technically the official Lady of Caed Nua, but they had no interest in the title or the responsibilities and so their companion Kenna took them up

And then Kenna! -- a ranger, her companion is a wolf named Ea -- from the Deadfire proper, and an experienced sailor -- ironically, she’s a fire godlike -- (has intentionally fallen into the water just to see what would happen to her fire) -- most people assume Kenna is the Watcher, and she while she doesn’t do anything to encourage it, she doesn’t dissuade them either

#charater: the Watcher #characters: Kenna and Ea

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yanara126-writing · 5 years ago

Text

A Death in Your Name - Penitence (3/5)

How can one mortal soul be so important to a god?

You misunderstand. I'm not Galawain or Magran, I'm not used to people dying for me.

And yet they do. Some willingly, some not.

The pain of loss unites and splits a god and an elf.

Read here or on Ao3

Have fun! Comments always welcome! :)

Today was a solemn day for the order of the true religion as a whole, and for the Eothas clergy in particular. Thick clouds of incense permeated the halls, accompanied by grieving songs and the sound of bells. All priests were clad in simple cloaks, wearing anything more opulent would have been bad taste.

It had only been days ago, that the end of the Apostate had been celebrated, now triumph had given way to shocked grief. Eothas’ high priestess had been found dead in the temple’s sanctuary, her hair brutally sheared off her skull and her own dagger in her heart.

For Thaos ix Arkannon it was... a welcome annoyance. It threw off his plans for the immediate future somewhat, but also took care of a liability. Still, it was a waste. He’d hoped the girl would overcome her doubts. Her dedication to Eothas had been a useful asset, he hadn’t made her high priestess for nothing, but obviously he’d expected too much of her. At least she’d had the decency to just kill herself, rather than follow in her sister’s footsteps.

Iovara had been a bitter disappointment, but her sister could have been an actual threat. Her position as a high priestess could have given her the edge Iovara never had. Thankfully, she’d lacked Iovara’s pure bullheadedness and so had simply broken at the revelation. Yet another proof that what he was doing was right. Not that he needed it.

He conducted the funeral himself. Usually that job would either fall to the new head of the Eothas clergy, or Berath’s high priest, but the girl had been a well-respected figure, and with her actions against the Apostate, a hero. Making a proper martyr out of her presented a good way to cement the people’s hatred against what was left of Iovara’s following.

And so, at dawn he stood before her prepared body, looking out over the masses of people, that had gathered to send her off. He spoke the rites and told them of a brave sacrifice. How she’d done her part to end the heretics and then gave her life to Eothas, to assure the gods of her continued loyalty, and for shame of having been related in this life to the Apostate, that had denied them.

After the rites the people flocked closer to pay their respects one last time, to a woman who would soon be known as Saint Emblyn, though never officially declared such. The body had been prepared accordingly by one Berathian and one Eothasian priest, as was customary for high ranking members of the church. Clad in her ornate ceremonial robes she stood out of the masses, shining like the splendid heroine she was supposed to be, a picture of pure serenity. The only thing not entirely traditional was the veil over her face, to hide the wreckage she’d made of her hair and the wounds to her scalp. No need to harm the perfect picture.

He left after the rites were completed, he had more important things to do than feign mourning a failure. Instead he intended to use this situation to his benefit and deal yet another blow.

Purposeful steps carried him down towards Breith Eaman, long robes swishing after him. The souls of the damned tugged at him, screaming their desperation into his very core, but he swatted them away like insects.

After a while of patient walking, he reached his goal. In the darkness down under, the only light source were the shining adra pillars, salvation and prison at once for the jailed souls. He stopped in front of one of them and waited. He had no doubt she’d come, patience was a virtue she’d never understood.

He was of course proven right and soon a shimmering in the air, only visible to his cipher senses, appeared, forming into the picture of an elven woman out of the ether.

“Come to gloat?”, Iovara ix Ensios asked, glaring at him and chin lifted in defiance, even in death.

“I have no need of gloating,” Thaos answered calmly. His voice resonated in the stone caves in a way Iovara’s never would again. With nimble fingers he pulled a dagger from the folds of his cloak. The blade was a rusty, brownish red, only the hilt still told of it’s original steel quality.

Iovara raised a condescending eyebrow. “Not even you can kill me again with a dagger,” she said, voice dripping with contempt.

“Ever jumping conclusions. I can see you have learnt nothing from your demise. But perhaps it will please you to know, the one responsible for it is dead.” He flipped the weapon in his hand, carefully avoiding the stained blade, showing it to her. Technically she had no eyes anymore to look at it, but he wanted to make sure she understood.

Iovara looked first at him, then at the dagger, confusion clear on her face. But then she paled, understanding setting in, as she recognized the weapon in his hand and the insinuation. She took a step back, a now obsolete reflex setting in.

“You... you wouldn’t have... She was loyal to you!” She shouted the last sentence at him, her phony body trembling. A mixture of emotions was displayed on her features, shock, disbelieve and anger taking the forefront.

“Obviously not enough. But no, I didn’t, she took care of that herself. Your ‘truth’ broke her so much, she couldn’t bear to live with it anymore. And so, she dedicated her death to same god she devoted her life to. In a rather impressive display, really.” Contrary to his words, Thaos personally scorned the former high priestess’ methods. Though it served his purpose well enough, it was a tasteless show of melodrama.

Thaos carelessly threw the bloodied dagger to the spectre’s feet. “You can rot down here for eternity, knowing that you drove the last person you loved to suicide, and that she will be heralded as a martyr for everything you stood against.” He didn’t wait for her reply, he’d done what he’d come for. And he should be back for the lighting of the pyre at dusk.

Iovara watched her former mentor leave into the darkness of Breith Eaman and wanted to cry, not that she really still could. Not for him, never for him, but for the sister she’d lost. Technically he could have been lying, but what would have been the point? He could have tortured her just as much with the knowledge of her sister’s continued servitude to the false gods. Although, now that she stood before the choice, she’d have much rather Emblyn be still alive and happy, even if it meant she’d go against every one of Iovara’s believes.

Even after all that had happened, Iovara couldn’t hate her sister. She couldn’t, and most likely wouldn’t ever, understand her choices, she was sad about what their relationship had become, and for a while she had even been angry, but hate eluded her.

Even long after Thaos had left, Iovara retained her corporeal form. There was no one around to see her and her senses worked just fine without it, but her death was only a few days past and habits die hard, unlike bodies.

The dagger on the floor before her adra prison felt like a gravestone, though whose she wasn’t certain. It was a well calculated, cruel mockery of Thaos to leave it there. She had no hands anymore to pick it up and throw it away, or even eyes to turn in another direction, though she still pretended to, so there was no way for her to remove it from her perception, forever forced to be aware of the weapon that had supposedly taken her sister’s life. A weapon Iovara had given her herself, on the last day they’d met in peace.

Iovara didn’t know how long she remained there, her perception of time lost to the darkness both around and in her, and only the howling of the other damned souls in the distance for company. Desperation gnawed at her, desperation to know if it was true, if her little sister had really spent her last seconds despairing and alone, because of Iovara’s choices. But no one would tell her, no one could tell her, because the only one who could possibly know, was the one claiming it. Except maybe...

For the first time since she’d left the order, Iovara felt her determination waver. Doing this would go against everything she’d lived and died for, and there was no guarantee it would even work, but she couldn’t just simply leave it, if there was even the slightest hope for certainty. She remembered what Thaos had said, before she’d been pushed down the hole. The gods hear everything... And if Emblyn had been right, there might even be one who’d answer.

“Eothas,” she spoke into the darkness. It wasn’t a question. She might be desperate enough to speak to a phony god, but she wouldn’t submit to him, not even with words.

For a while nothing happened. The adra around her shimmered in the same green, the darkness unbroken, aside from the quiet howling in the background. Iovara was ready to give up and wait for Thaos to return to try and grill him for details, no matter how futile an attempt, when the adra suddenly lit up, filling the stone tunnels with more light than had ever been down here. A presence, far heavier than Iovara had ever felt before, spread through the stony tunnels.

Do you wish to repent? The adra flickered in time with the steady words, creating an eerie atmosphere, that was somehow both enhanced and hindered by the calm softness of the voice. The voice itself didn’t resonate, much like hers, but the room was filled with an undeniable energy, that vibrated deep in her soul.

Iovara flinched and bristled, but remembered why she’d called him in the first place. Angering him wouldn’t get her any answers. So instead of snapping at him like she wanted, she pushed down her anger, until it only showed in the tightness of her voice.

“You know I don’t. I want answers.” There was a short silence and the god seemed to debate his response. Or maybe he just wanted to seem more dramatic, Iovara wouldn’t be surprised.

What makes you think I will give them? The tone was completely neutral and entirely inoffensive. Iovara didn’t believe it for a second.

“If you’re even half the god, or even person, my sister thought you to be, you will.” Iovara really tried not to be confrontational, she really did, but she also had no patience for this. “But if you’re a hypocrite like the rest of them, please prove me right, oh god of truth.”

Again, silence reigned over the room. The only sign he hadn’t just left was the strange lighting that remained. If Iovara still had them, she would be tapping her feet with impatience. As it was, she refrained from doing so, the wrong sound of her voice was unsettling her enough already.

Finally, after a time that felt like an eternity, the voice returned. My answer will depend on your question. What a convenient out for him, but Iovara supposed it was better than nothing. He could have simply ignored her (like Woedica had, when she’d still had hope).

She wanted to ask then. If her sister was really dead, if she’d done it because of her, with the weapon Iovara had given her. She couldn’t. No matter how much she tried, the words wouldn’t form into the sentences she willed them into.

In the end she settled on: “Is it true, what Thaos said?”

The adra crystals flickered stronger and the atmosphere suddenly tightened. Iovara felt her grip on her corporeal form slip, as the essence all around was pushed away by an enormous force. For the first time Iovara was scared of what she meddled with, as she felt the true magnitude of what the Engwithans had created.

The push ended as abruptly as it had started and the room was as calm as before, as if nothing had happened. Iovara was shaken to the core, the tearing hadn’t exactly been painful, but so insistent that she had no doubt, she wouldn’t be able to stop him, if he desired her gone.

She didn’t understand what had triggered it. Surely he’d already known what she was about to ask and if he’d wanted to demonstrate his power, shouldn’t he have done it already?

Very little that man says can be considered true. Iovara flinched when the god spoke again, tensing in useless defence. He was as calm as before, but the voice had taken on a cooler, harder tone. But the one you knew as Emblyn ix Ensios is dead.

Those words were enough to shatter what remained of Iovara’s world. She’d driven her little sister to suicide. If only she’d taken Emblyn with her that day. Surely she could have found a way to convince her... But she’d been too angry then, to think of anything but leaving, and later too arrogant to realize, that her little sister had grown up and wouldn’t just simply follow her anymore.

She wanted to fall to her knees, sob, and tear her hair out, and perhaps she did in a way. What was the point in keeping up appearances, like a body? She was dead, and now there was no one who’d care anymore. Everyone she’d ever loved was dead. Her surroundings faded to her own crushing sadness, giving way to the swirling greys of the aether.

It wasn’t your fault. Suddenly she was back, grounded in a reality she didn’t want. The partial darkness of Breith Eaman greeted her again, and so did the anger.

How dare this fraud think himself entitled to lay or take blame?! None of this was his to decide! Nothing was!

“And how would you know?! You obviously didn’t help her!” Neither had she, but hating him was easier than facing that. Oh, and how much she hated him. For how he’d given Emblyn and all the others false hope, for something that was never true to begin with. For how he’d let her die...

You are right. I was too late. The solemn admission startled her. Never had she heard of any god admitting a mistake, and the idea that they even could was... strange. Yet she couldn’t doubt his sincerity, though she tried. There was something in the flat way he’d said it, and the suddenly dimmer light around her that made her think, maybe he did actually care, at least a little.

But then Iovara remembered who she was talking to. This wasn’t just a simple bystander, he’d had every opportunity to do something, anything, to stop it, and he hadn’t used any of them. Rage flooded her, making the edges of her form fizzle as she lost focus. But before she could do something (as if there was anything she could do), he continued, his tone aloof, yet drenched in a sadness that Iovara felt deep in her core.

I only noticed when she called on me, and by then I could not help her anymore. But she did not want you to suffer, so it is for her sake that I assure you, it was not because of your actions, that she did what she did.

“How would you even know that? If she... if you...!” Iovara had never had trouble finding the words, but this time language failed her.

I felt it. That answer was so prompt, it jarred her out of her anger and she stared at the shining adra crystals in confusion.

“You what?” A charged silence followed, and Iovara wasn’t certain if it was just her frustration or something else that made air feel so tight. Then suddenly something uncoiled and the light turned warm and dim.

It is my duty to bring about a new turn of the Wheel for the souls whose mortal forms have passed. But sometimes those souls are... damaged. Either by multiple small moments over the course of many lives, or by one terrible, traumatic event. Most of the time those souls naturally split up or join with others, but at times they are too broken to survive the Wheel.

Are terrible sense of dread overcame Iovara. Why was he telling her that? Did that mean Emblyn could not even be reborn? She wanted him to stop, but at the same time she had a sick desire to know.

Occasionally I... shelter those souls, until they have healed enough to re-join the cycle. The voice trailed off, almost as if he didn’t dare continue. The insinuation was clear nonetheless.

Iovara stared into the air around her, not really seeing anything, as she let those words sink in. Her anger fizzled out and the reality he’d just described was impressed on her mind. Not only had her sister been desperate enough to take her own life, she’d broken so horribly, that the Wheel would have ground her soul into dust, had the god before her not intervened.

It was a lot harder to hate him now. Harder, but not impossible. Resentment for him and his kind still burned hot at her core, but now it was accompanied by a grudging, more personal gratitude. For some reason it never even occurred to her that he could be lying. Perhaps Emblyn’s unending faith in him had rubbed off on her more than she’d thought.

She tried to say something, anything, perhaps even thank him, but no words wanted to form. The conflict inside her didn’t allow for any expression of either gratitude or anger to be made, and so she settled on a non-committal hum.

Eothas seemed to understand anyway, and didn’t pressure her for an answer. The crystals lit up softly, creating almost the illusion of a nod.

Another silence reigned over the room, less tight than before, but heavy with things left unsaid.

Something still bugged her, something that had nothing to do with Emblyn’s reasoning, but rather with his.

“Why her? What made her so special, that you’d go out of your way to talk to me, the declared enemy of all religions?” Iovara loved her sister, she really did, and she could understand a certain amount of favouritism, but why a god would bother with her, even for Emblyn’s sake, she couldn’t understand.

There was a slight tug on her essence, not harsh like before, but rather like a slight breeze. For a second Iovara resisted, but then her curiosity won out and she gave in, letting the energy tug her away from the darkness of the moment.

What she found were flashes of pictures, each a moment of Emblyn’s life. Her kneeling before an altar, tears on her face and asking for forgiveness. Her before the same altar, nervously putting a candle on it. Her making another candle, tongue sticking out of her mouth in concentration. Her standing at a window, looking out at the dawn with a smile.

Iovara watched as Emblyn grew older and more comfortable with each picture, and saw just what she’d missed of her sister’s life, while she was off, living her own.

The pictures were strangely tinted, not really with colours, but coloured emotions. The first were in a grey, polite indifference, that slowly grew lighter as a slight fondness started blooming. It stayed like that for a while, but then a few things changed. Emblyn grew more confident and started actively helping people. On her mission, she didn’t stay in her little church to preach, but rather went outside to aid the people with her hands as well as tongue.

The tint grew into a curious affection, as Iovara watched Emblyn happily teach a group of children to read using Eothasian prayers. Another time she wove clothes with the women of a village, while telling stories. By the time Emblyn returned to the temple and was consecrated as high priestess, a loving respect coloured the pictures.

The stream of images came to a sudden stop, and Iovara found herself back in her prison, jarred and disappointed at the abrupt end.

She asked, and listened when I answered. That deserves a reward. Eothas’ voice lacked any of the emotions she’d just seen. It was a cool, factual statement, as if it was merely a matter of transaction, and Iovara could only stare, completely bewildered. Who was he trying to fool?

Or perhaps... did he not know, that she had seen these moments? Well, if he decided to be difficult about this, so would she, and for once she had the advantage.

“A reward? So what, you approve of her killing herself? Is that one of the things they teach in your clergy?” She knew it wasn’t, but she wouldn’t let him get away with half-truths if she could. The fact that he’d already been far more forthcoming than any other god was not going to stop her from needling the truth out of him. Emblyn deserved better. Iovara deserved better.

You misunderstand. I am not Galawain or Magran, I am not used to people dying for me. That sentence ended their almost truce immediately. If Iovara had been petty with her annoyance before, she was furious now. Eothas’ almost defensive tone only served to make her angrier.

“Oh no, you don’t get to say that! People were murdered in your name!” She practically shouted the words, her figure flickering again with unsuppressed fury. She didn’t remember throwing her arms out or stepping further into the caves, yet there she stood, hands balled into fists, glaring at the shining adra. “I was murdered for you!”

That was never my intention. There was something defeated in those words, as if he’d said them a million times already, and was tired of it, though to who, Iovara could only imagine. Not that she wanted to. Her grudging respect for him had fizzled away. Of course he was just like the rest of them, denying responsibility for the atrocities committed in their names.

For Emblyn, she reminded herself, for Emblyn. And so, she reigned her anger in, accepted his answer and stepped back. She didn’t hide her distaste, she doubted she would be able to anyway, but refrained from further provoking him. Iovara turned away from the cave system and the luminous crystals to face her own, personal prison. A purely symbolic gesture, neither of them had an actual physical form, yet the intent behind it was obvious.

Eothas seemed to accept her dismissal, the light in the adra slowly dimming and the weight of his presence lifting.

Before he was gone completely, he stopped. A sliver of light separated from the crystal and gently moved towards her, or rather towards something before her. With a start Iovara remembered the bloody dagger, just as it started to glow softly.

“Leave it,” she told him, voice hard and cool. “It’ll serve as a reminder.” A reminder of what, she wasn’t sure herself. Perhaps she just wanted to deny him this one last thing. The glow let up and vanished again.

I will not let her come to harm. She gave him no reaction, but he didn’t seem to expect one. The words just hung in the air unacknowledged, a last steadfast promise, ignoring their opposite sides.

The remaining light retreated, and soon Iovara was alone again, with only the screams of the other trapped souls for company. That, and the dagger. He’d left it, as she’d asked, and it glared up at her from it’s place in the dirt, no longer bloodied, but shining like the day she’d given it to Emblyn. A reminder indeed.

With the target of her ire gone, the fire went too, and all that was left was emptiness, and the certainty that she was going to spend eternity down here, drowned in darkness.

She finally let the illusion of her body vanish, melting into the realm between. The gravestone she’d chosen for herself remained visible for all to see, if ever someone would come, and for none to understand.

#Pillars of Eternity #eothas #Iovara #fanfiction #The Watcher #tragedy #Iovara's sister #religion #sibling lov #finding peace #thaos ix arkannon #hypocrisy #from everyone really #mourning #Watcher Favaen #(3/5)

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