#cause he's successfully forged his own path

[senatushq]

PHOBOS

NAME/ALIASES. UTP AGE & BIRTH DATE. Prehistory & Unknown SPECIES. Daimona & Aspect GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him or He/They AFFILIATIONS. UTP OCCUPATION. UTP

History

Forged from terror and panic itself, daimona were common creatures in the time of the elves. Concentrated emotions that pooled together and created something with thoughts and feelings of their own. It was once the sacred duty of Machin Shin to sweep the Otherworld clean, to keep the painful things  like Phobos and Deimos from coming together. However, the Black Wind fell to corruption and in its absence Phobos and his brother began to take form. Where the spellplague went, panic arose within the elves that they would be next: perhaps the person they had come into contact with were sick, or maybe someone from a visiting realm. Hysteria grew as the Moon Gates were closed one by one to prevent the spread of the virulent disease that affected those with magic, rotting them from the inside out with its scarlet decay. Rot and filth that consumed everything in its path, to date the elves had neve faced anything of this kind and as civil wars and rebellions spread out the empire had begun to crumble from within. The anxiety and terror that the spellplague caused across the Otherworld was what gave Phobos his form, it was this great panic that erupted the daimona into creation.

Outside the realm of Hyperborea, Phobos and his brother lingered in the shadows as the fleeing elves left what was once the seat of their empire behind. Towards the mortal realm Queen Yidhra and her daughter Titania led their people and on their heels Phobos and Deimos followed behind. They grew larger and more powerful with every step, the panic, terror, and fear that the twin daimona fed off only made them stronger. It was addicting in its own way, but as embodiments of panic and fear they felt it just as keenly as those who passed it to them. Within Eden the twins were barred from entering, but that did not stop the panic within the elves as they tried to sleep at night - the pain of their past trauma quietly eating at them. The spellplague was contained on the other side of the Otherworld, but that panic would still creep in, what if someone they knew was infected? What if it came to the garden? As Eden burned, Phobos wandered within the Otherworld, hungry to enter the realm but barred from it. Trivia encountered the brothers, bested them, then took pity on the spirits of fear and panic- she gave them physical forms and in doing so gave them the power to enter the realms physically. Into the mortal realm and antiquity, panic descended.

Connections

Deimos: Brudder

Trivia: Trivia gave Phobos and Deimos their physical forms.

Remus, Keket, and Galatea: Fellow creations of Trivia, Phobos and Deimos were the first spirits given physical form aside from revenants. Keket was the first woman successfully resurrected, Remus was the first terror, and Galatea was the first statue brought to life.

Abilities

Daimona: All the strengths of a daimona.

Immortal: Phobos will never age and normal illnesses will not affect him.

Immune to magic: Destruction or illusion magic does nothing to him.

Nightmare Manipulation: Through physical contact they're able to slip into the dreams of others and give them horrific nightmares. Once within they're able to learn a person's greatest fears and anxieties.

Weaknesses

Daimona: All the weaknesses of a daimona.

Iron: Will burn them, dispel them, and disrupt their magic for a period of time.

Afterlife: Cannot step on hallowed ground.

Dirt: A circle of dirt from a graveyard will trap him.

THIS SKELETON BELONGS TO CHERYL

[askvectorprime]

Dear Vector Prime, you've stated before that Shockwave continued his experiments by producing more Dinobots to use for his own purposes, RID Grimlock being such a case, however other subspecies of Dinobot, such as Chompazoids, seem to be born from the Well. Does this mean that Shockwaves experiments caused the Allspark to adopt the Dinobot as a type of Cybertonian, or dies it even have connection to Grimlocks disappearance, perhaps sacrificing himself to the Well to produce more of his kind?

Dear Chompazoid Champion,

Shockwave created the first Chompazoids after the fall of Cybertron, a side project that he worked on for many years in the ruins of Nuon City. While his earlier experiments—on the Insecticons, the Dinobots, the Forged—attempted to graft genetic information onto a living test subject, the Chompazoid project was far more ambitious—he attempted to create a hybrid, a superior organism that drew upon the strengths of multiple different Cybertronian organisms. Though the Chompazoids used the Dinobot “genome” as a base, Shockwave spliced in many traits from other lifeforms. Thanks to an infusion of Predacon CNA, for instance, they would be born with a powerful internal fusion reactor—not to breathe fire, but to burn up inorganic material and turn it into pure energy. Their jaws—a mixture of Sharkticon and Scraplet—would allow them to chew through solid durabyllium, and their modified brain modules would fill their minds with the mindless, all-consuming hunger of the Insecticons. Finally, his creations received the Cybertronian ability to transform into vehicles and machinery—but when the last of the energon he'd allocated for the project ran out, Shockwave put his specimens into cryogenic storage and turned his attention back to the less energy-intensive task of simply cloning a new Predacon.

After the end of the war, Cybertronians began resettling the city of Nuon, which had been left comparatively intact by the war—until an Autobot cleanup crew that consisted of Vectorium, Catapult, Sledgehammer, and Stormsong stumbled upon Shockwave’s backup lab quite by accident. When they thoughtlessly deactivated the stasis chambers keeping the newborn Chompazoids under control, the onrushing brood promptly devoured the four and escaped captivity. The Chompazoids were far smarter than Shockwave had intended, and proved able to outhink, outwit, and outfight their pursuers; the largest and most intelligent Chompazoid, a hulking brute by the name of “Underbite,” rampaged through Nuon for hours, eating everything in sight before the Cybertronian provisional government could martial a coordinated response—it took Ultra Magnus, Bulkhead, Ripraw, and all four Dinobots to finally subdue and arrest him. Ever the braggart, Underbite became inordinately proud of his famous rampage and boasted endlessly about it to everyone who crossed his path.

As for the other Chompazoids… well, I am sorry to say many did indeed succumb to their primal instincts and turned to villainy in an attempt to sate their hunger. This is not to say that all Chompazoids are inherently evil, of course, and many successfully integrated themselves into Cybertronian society before Cyclonus staged his coup. The Chompazoid Molar, for instance, became a kind and supportive mentor as part of Cybertron’s provisional tutelage system.

And so, to answer your question—although these designs began as mere scientific experiments, the Well would later begin birthing Chompazoids of its own accord. Did the AllSpark within the well merely recognize and replicate a successful body-plan, or was this some attempt to welcome these chimeric beings into the great song of Cybertronian coexistence? Even I cannot say for certain.

[s-v-caine]

The Parallax Doctrine: Chapter I

Summary: The Enterprise crew is charged with the difficult task of preventing all out war between the Federation and the Cardassian Union. On their harrowing journey, they are faced with challenges that will change their views of humanity forever: as Data develops emotions, fall in love, and is irrevocably changed by these events.

Pairings: Data x OFC (original female character), Riker x Deanna, Past Data x Jenna D’Sora

Rating: R to NC-17. Chapters with NC-17 will be properly tagged.

Chapter One: The Discovery  

-The U.S.S. Enterprise-

Captain Jean-Luc Picard rarely, if ever, failed a diplomatic mission. His impeccable sense of duty and statesmanship could be rivaled by no other in the Federation. His crew, in all their skills and dedication, were the epitome of Starfleet’s gold standard. Everything pointed to the fact that the mission would be a success, like the numerous amounts of diplomatic missions before that. However, the Cardassians, as known as they were for their warmongering, were even more well known for their duplicitous ways. Admiral Nechayev had been understanding during their debrief call that morning, assuring Picard that it was through no fault of his own that diplomacy failed between the Federation and the Cardassian Union. In fact, according to the Admiral, the Cardassian ambassadors were commanded by Union leaders to throw diplomacy out the door and create as much of a diplomatic incidence as possible in order to have another excuse to mobilize towards war. Picard had just wished that he could have found a way around this unavoidable tragedy.

Now, in a bid to mitigate said war, the U.S.S Enterprise had no other choice than to rush at warp 9 to the distant star system on the outer rims called Ex Admirari in order to locate and successfully retrieve Doctor Ophelie Le Flore. 

Captain Picard could feel the simmering signs of a stress headache coming on, the pressure low at the temple. He rubbed the side of his left head with his hand in soothing circles. No doubt Doctor Crusher and Counselor Troi would be visiting his ready room before they left warp to voice their concerns regarding this new mission. After all, the lives of millions depended on its success; and with the onset of already failed diplomacy, this did not bode well for an auspicious beginning. Regardless, as captain, Picard felt he must hold steady in the orders dictated by the admiralty. They were to locate Doctor Le Flore and entreat her to come with them. If she refused, they were to use whatever means necessary to ensure she was safely aboard the Enterprise, regardless of whether she consented.

The door to his ready room chimed and Picard looked up from his ministration to bark a short, “Come.” Lieutenant Commander Data entered briskly followed by Commander William Riker. They both stood at the ready with their hands behind their backs, awaiting Picard’s permission to speak. “What have you to report, Mr. Data?”

“Sir, at 0700 hours, Lieutenant La Forge and I conducted our routine maintenance of the warp coils to ensure that our current velocity will have no negative impact upon the engines. We discovered that the coils remain stable. However, the plasma conduits are not made to sustain such a speed for this length of time. I suggest that alpha to delta shift continue to check the plasma conduits every hour and change out conduits before they burn out and cause a cascade failure.”

“Make it so, Mr. Data,” Picard stated with a hand wave. Data nodded in acknowledgement before departing the room. Commander Riker watched as Data left before turning to the captain, “Captain, Deanna has some reservations about the ethical nature of what we’ve been ordered to do,” Riker stated with hesitance. Picard sighed, not bothering to hide his exhaustion from his first officer. Will was a great first officer, and loyal to a fault, but occasionally, his sensitivity to the fairer sex often led him down troubled paths. Picard could forgive that in a man, after all, what was life if not to pursue that which beguiled and pleasured one’s senses.

“Will, I understand Deanna does not like the idea of potentially having to kidnap one of the most renowned scientists in the Federation, but Doctor Le Flore has been known to be a bit of a wild card. She is not easy to deal with. And if Doctor Le Flore decides she will not come with us, there will be no way to change her mind. As such, we must, unfortunately, consider using force to take her with us, for her own safety, of course.”

“I understand that, sir, and to a degree, Deanna does as well. But to decide on a course that is so… extreme, is that really necessary?” Riker’s face twisted into an uncomfortable grimace as he uttered the word ‘extreme’. As a man of incredible integrity, and also one who championed the rights of women, he was rather uncomfortable with making a woman do anything against her will, even if her life was on the line. 

“Will, what do you know about Doctor Le Flore?” Picard asked as he leaned back into his chair, his hands clasped formally in front of his chest. 

“I know that she is a brilliant anthropologist and archaeologists. I read the Stellae Et Terre article about her discovery of the mass relays and her hypothesis of their functions in interstellar travel amongst the lost Euclidean societies. But other than her works, I know next to nothing about her.” Riker pursed his lips thoughtfully after the last statement, as if to wonder why there was nothing known about the doctor.

“Precisely. You know nothing about her. I know nothing about her. In fact, how she has managed to keep her face and personal identity unknown to nearly everyone in the last decade is a marvel in our current age of lightspeed information. The good doctor has been elusive for as long as the scientific community can remember. It does help her case that she is often in remote areas of the galaxy. Regardless, we need to consider that she does not want to be found and will be difficult upon being found,” Picard said with finality, laying the matter to rest. 

Riker nodded in acknowledgement, a feeling of disquiet coming over him. The situation had devolved so rapidly within the last 48 hours. He did not envy the captain in having to carry out these orders, but as the captain had noted, the doctor will no doubt be another problematic layer to this already horrendous situation. ‘What an absolute mess,' Riker wondered distantly as he left the captain’s ready room.

 -Abraxas IV – The Lys Subcontinent-

The jungles of the Lys Subcontinent were not so dissimilar from those on Earth, particularly in the Amazon regions. The jungles of Lys, however, had a distinctly ancient feeling to them, with trees towering over 900 meters tall. As Commander Riker hacked his way through the thick underbrush of the jungle, his thoughts drifted back to Deanna, who was bringing up the rear of the away team. Since entering the Ex Admirari star system, Deanna had become withdrawn and quiet. The closer they got to Abraxas IV, the more closed off she had seemed. She had secluded herself from the rest of the crew up until the moment they had to step onto the transporter pad to beam down to the planet. Will was concerned to say the least. He had no way of confirming, but it had something to do with the planet. Another matter that niggled at him was the fact that, for a massive jungle this size, there were absolutely no sounds of animals or insects or birds at all within this jungle. Aside from the sharp thuds of the carbonite machete hitting the foliage, the jungle was silent. It unnerved him. This was not natural in any sense.

The away team for this mission included Will, Data, Worf, Deanna, and the captain. The captain rarely went on landing missions, but his presence was necessitated by the dire circumstance in which they found themselves. If they could locate the doctor, the captain would be the best bet at convincing her to leave with them. Will felt unease as they moved slowly but surely further and further into the heart of the jungle. The jungle did not feel inhospitable, but it did not feel welcoming either. There was a sense that they were being watched, yet Will did not know what could be observing them. He felt a sense of protectiveness wash over him and hesitated, wishing he could turn around and check on Deanna’s progress, but the captain had ordered him at the front to lead, and he would be remiss in his duties if he did not obey his captain.

They continued onwards for another 10 kilometers in silence, all on edge and alert to any sounds or changes in their surroundings. As they moved further into the jungle the feeling of being watched intensified. Data, under normal circumstances, would never notice such a subtle shift in the atmosphere; however, even he was wholly aware of the tension rolling off the away team. In his observation, Data had noted that Commander Riker paused every 2.579 minutes to take stock of the situation, much more careful in his proceedings than in any other landing mission Data had been on with the commander. In addition, Lieutenant Worf, while his usual taciturn self, was acting much more wary, like an animal afraid of stepping into a trap. Data had never seen Worf act this way. Jumpy would be the colloquialism Geordi would use here, if he were here, Data mused. Data wondered if Geordi had figured out a way to reconfigure the dilithium regulator to maximize the crystal outputs. Data suspected that the interface between the crystal chambers was the main issue, but more analysis and tests were required, which he would attend to once they got back to the ship.

As they emerged from a particularly thick growth of foliage, Commander Riker came to a dead stop, causing Data to slam his android body directly into Riker with some force. Worf who had been surreptitiously looking about, had not noticed the abrupt stop, and came crashing into Data as well. The captain, thankfully, was more alert, and stopped short of Worf, a sigh on his lips as he watched his command team untangle themselves from each other. Deanna, bringing up the rear, and being significantly shorter than the men, did not know what they had stopped for, but as she moved around them, she let out an audible gasp.

Before Deanna was the most wondrous thing she had ever beheld in her life, and as the counselor on the Federation flagship, she had seen many wonders before. The gargantuan pyramid was taller than all the trees in the jungle by more than 300 meters. It looked to be constructed of entirely a diamond-like material. The translucent nature of the pyramid made it so that light refracted from it in odd ways, and the rainbow prism of light emitting from it hit the eyes in a hypnotic manner. While the other side of the pyramid and its interiority were not visible, it felt as if the pyramid could disappear at any moment, with just the right step into a certain direction under certain sunlight. The landing party was stunned by the massive structure, sitting in the middle of this ancient and dense jungle. Who could have constructed such a wonder, they all thought? Which ancient and advanced civilization created this as a testament to their engineering prowess?

The captain was the first to speak up, “On my word, I have never seen such a thing. I wonder if this was how Burckhardt felt rediscovering the ancient city of Petra,” he whispered under his breath, awe in every syllable. “Oh, I imagine Burckhardt was most likely just relieved that he was not going to die in an endless desert,” a voice responded from up top. Captain Picard whipped his head around and craned his neck to the sky, there in the treetop was a woman, in her mid-30s. She was dressed in a loose button-down white blouse, with a brown leather harness strapped over the shirt. Hanging within the harness were various digging tools, a phaser, a machete, and attached to her back were two asymmetrical swords: one long and one short. Her brown cargo slacks were practical with numerous pockets, as were the knee-high boots she had on over the trousers. She sat with her back against the massive trunk of the tree, and one leg dangling from the branch she was perched on. She gave the landing party a scrutinizing stare with her emerald, green eyes; it unnerved them in the same way the jungle made them feel watched. “I dare say, similar to Burckhardt, who should not have been where he was, you should not be here either,” the woman said in a low, clear tone of voice. 

The captain, in a bid for tact, cleared his throat, “Miss, might I inquire, what is your name?” A sly smile grew on the woman’s face. She seemed amused by the notion of anyone wanting to know her name. Considering what the captain had asked, she stood up from her position with a litheness that reminded them of a mischievous cat. Abruptly, before anyone could even react, she grabbed hold of a rope to the side of the massive tree and slid down with agility and quick grace. Before the landing party’s eyes she stood, hand on her hip and a look of consideration passing through her eyes. “Why would Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starship Enterprise need to know my name?” she replied. As she stated this, a whisp of platinum silver hair escaped from her ponytail, which she blew impatiently out of her face in annoyance, an idiosyncratic tic that Data noted with curiosity. In Data’s opinion, it somehow contravened with the elegance in which she had moved previously. Most curious indeed.

The captain suppressed an exasperated grimace and turned the thin lines of his mouth into a smile, “Are you by chance Doctor Ophelie Le Flore?” the captain persisted in his question. The woman smiled, this time a wry beneficence made its way into her expression, “Yes, I am Doctor Ophelie Le Flore. And now that I have answered your query, might you answer mine: what are you doing here, Captain?”

“Doctor, if I may suggest, there is a lot for us to discuss, and I would prefer to do so somewhere more comfortable? Perhaps we can do this aboard the Enterprise?” The captain’s inquiry was met with a barking laughter. The doctor, with mirth in her eyes, shook her head, “No, captain, I shall not be boarding the Enterprise with you. I have matters to attend to here. If you want to tell me why you’re here, you’re welcome to do so right where we are standing.” Commander Riker could not help but admire the loquacious nature with which the doctor easily denied the captain’s request, his blue eyes widening and looking downwards to avoid bursting out in laughter at his poor captain’s frustration.

Picard summoned the strength of his diplomatic dexterity: “Doctor, I will be candid with you then. At this very moment, in the Cardassia star system, on the M-Class planet Lamemda, the Cardassian government is undergoing an immense archeological dig. Starfleet intelligence has confirmed the Cardassian government believe they have located the Arak-Rah and that the Cardassian government, once they have figured out how to activate this ancient weapon, will proceed to go to war with the Federation.” The doctor narrowed her eyes at Picard, she did not seem skeptical of his claim, but rather something else. “The Cardassians couldn’t find a black hole even if it collided with their fleet, let alone the legendarily lost artifact Arak-Rah,” the doctor said with a drawl of derision. 

Picard sighed, “Unfortunately for us, this time they have managed to locate such a thing.”

“The Hebestes civilization went extinct over 30,000 years ago, captain.” The doctor noted before continuing, “When they fell, their entire civilization was swallowed by a cataclysmic event that buried everything with them. The only reason we do not consider them to be a legend, like Atlantis on your Earth, is that there have been recorded histories of their civilization from other ancient civilizations scattered across the Cardassia star system. You’re telling me that the Cardassians somehow managed to stop their dick-swinging, warmongering ways long enough to actually undertake an exploratory mission that would otherwise take decades to complete?” Picard nodded his head curtly at this and the doctor closed her eyes slowly before taking a deep breath and uttering under it, “Fucking Cardassians…” 

“Indeed,” the captain responded to the doctor’s expletive. The doctor cocked her head at the captain. “Well, I hate to hear such news, but I don’t see how this has anything to do with me,” she said as she moved to walk around the landing party. “Doctor, please,” the captain began, “the Cardassian government, once they have finished with their dig will be on their way to intercept you. You are the only person in this sector of the quadrant who have any possible knowledge of how to activate this weapon, and they will come for you.”

The doctor paused to consider this and shrugged her shoulders before moving to walk around them yet again. The captain reached out to grab her arm this time, the intensity in his eyes bore into her. “Doctor, you must come with us.”

“Or what…?”  the doctor whispered challengingly to Picard.

“Or you will be captured, tortured, and possibly killed,” the captain said with a seriousness that chilled even Riker. The doctor and the captain stared at one another in a standoff of tense silence. The jungle around them was still, an eerie quietness descended upon the group standing by the pyramid’s base.

Finally, the doctor spoke, “Captain, I will go with you, but first I need to finish what I am doing here. Will you allow that? Or will you forcibly take me along?”

Picard was conflicted, on the one hand, knowing that the Cardassians could be on their way any day now if they got wind of the fact that Starfleet had gotten to the doctor first, but on the other hand, the scientist and archeologist in him was curious about what the doctor’s mission entailed here. “How long will it take you to complete your work here?” Picard asked. 

The doctor smiled at this, “No more than 48 hours.”

Picard closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then nodded his assent. “Wonderful!” The doctor exclaimed and jauntily extracted her arm from the captain’s grasp before marching over to the pyramid. “We will be going with you,” the authority in the captain’s voice was clear. The doctor stopped mid-stride, her arms swinging akimbo, as she turned her body around to look at the captain with eyes narrowed in annoyance and incredulity. “You’ll slow me down,” she stated.

“We will go with you,” the captain stated again, slowly enunciating each word. The doctor seemingly chose not to protest further, merely turned around, and continued to the pyramid in front of them.

Data looked back and forth between the captain and doctor; his curiosity piqued. He had never seen anyone behave in such a manner towards the captain before. He would archive this moment for further behavioral analysis later on. As Data walked up to the doctor, he noted she was crouched at the base of the pyramid. Her hands moved in a flurry, tapping certain squares of the pyramid. Data cocked his head in interest, “Fascinating,” he murmured softly, “the keys to opening this pyramid is a puzzle, and one it seems, shares a basis similar to the mathematical principles of the Pythagorean Theorem.”

The doctor looked over her shoulder and grinned at him, “You’re Doctor Soong’s android.” She stated what was the obvious to Data, but he was used to this prosaic observation. Data bent closer to watch as she continued to rapidly tap at the squares in an asynchronous manner. “How did you figure out the base code for this puzzle, if you do not mind my asking,” Data inquired. “Like most puzzles, you need to figure out what the key is first. I was inadvertently given the key by a Ferengi trader who thought it was just a nonsense children’s rhyme,” the doctor replied without pause to what she was doing.  As she tapped the last of the sequence, the top of the pyramid shifted, creating a plate that reflected the sunlight into a beam. The beam created a tall column of light that then bent itself outwards, activating the plates hidden within the jungle. Before anyone could even react, both Data and the doctor were swallowed up in the light and disappeared. The remaining members of the away team gaped at where they once stood.

The darkness was impenetrable, but Data’s eyes had no difficulties in ascertaining the locality or their position in regard to their location. “Data to the away team, come in away team,” Data tapped the comm badge. No response came. Data glanced downward and saw that Doctor Le Flore was slumped to the ground. She appeared unharmed but unconscious. She groaned slightly and slowly blinked her eyes, adjusting the darkness around them. “Doctor, are you hurt?” Data inquired gently. The doctor blinked a few times, before slowly pulling herself up, Data reached out to assist her. She leaned into his arms slightly as she wobbled upwards onto her feet. “I don’t believe I am concussed,” she murmured, “just slightly disoriented.”

Data nodded his head. The doctor rummaged around in her pants pocket for a moment, and finally brought out three orbs. She released the orbs from her hand, and they floated upwards. They slowly started to brighten, and a glow of light emanated from them. The doctor turned to Data. “Ready?” she asked him, then she took the first intrepid step forward. He followed behind her at a steady pace. “Doctor, what are we looking for precisely?” Data asked as the doctor walked briskly ahead, her orbs of light floating around her, illuminating the way. “Mr. Data,” the doctor began, “do you mind if I call you that,” she inquired, and he nodded in acquiescence, “have you heard of the Bolonelov tribe?”

“I have not, doctor,” Data admitted, “I am not familiar with the obscure tribes of the outer rim.” The doctor nodded thoughtfully, before stopping to scan the hieroglyphs inscribed onto the diamond-like walls. She tapped on the bracelet around her left arm and a blue, HOLO interface appeared before her. She started tapping away on it while examining the hieroglyphs, taking careful notes of what was in front of her. When she finished, she turned around and looked him in the eyes. “There is a legend passed down to the Banarans, who colonized the neighboring star system some 10,000 years ago, that this was their point of origin. The Banarans have a very colorful history of oral folktales that is still implemented to this day in the form of children’s songs and rhymes. One of the more obscure songs, that is no longer in fashion among the children, is the Song Of Zarathustra. It tells of a tale about the Bolonelov tribe and how they lived in the jungle alongside the Godking. They worshipped the Godking and lived in peace and harmony with this creature. As a way to show their gratitude and appreciation, they constructed a great pyramid in its honor, so that it may rest itself within it. The material they used was a rare diamondite that came from deep within the planet. They eventually mined so much diamondite that they reached the core, where they found an orb that was so perfect and pure, it could only have been formed by the heat of the core. But once they removed the orb and placed it within the pyramid of the Godking, great disaster befell them. The song ends with the Banarans’ ancestors fleeing this planet and star system in order to avoid an extinction level event.”

“Fascinating tale, Doctor,” Data said as he contemplated the information she had just imparted. “Are we to locate this orb then?” Data inquired. A smile grew on the doctor’s face, it caused her large eyes to crinkle into an almond shape and a twinkle to form in her eyes from the light hovering above and around them. 

“If I may ask, without injury to your knowledge in this field, how do you know that this is not merely legend?” Data continued. 

The doctor paused a moment to consider Data’s questions. She did not look offended but merely pensive. “I have collected sufficient data from various source materials over the years to conclude that this is not a legend. Also, the Bolonoelov tribe that still lives in the jungle has confirmed for me that the orb exists,” she stated simply before turning to walk ahead again. 

Data paused, tilted his head to the right in contemplation, and began walking again behind the doctor. “Your statement is one of profound discovery, doctor. That means that this lost tribe is not lost at all.”

“How very trite of us to believe that peoples and cultures can be lost and found simply because our imperialistic eye is not focused on them at a given moment,” the doctor retorted before stopping in front of another section of hieroglyphs and examining those as well. 

“Please elucidate further, doctor,” Data entreated.

“Mr. Data, most of archaeology and anthropology was built upon the binary belief that there are predominant cultures and there are lost cultures. When spacefaring became accessible to the bipedal species, it opened the philosophical discussion of rights, who has what rights and who gets said rights. To declare that something is lost and was then found, is the privilege of the imperialistic explorer. I am no such explorer, nor do I believe in such a notion. These people were not lost, they have existed here all this time, as is their right. We are merely visitors, and we should be grateful to their hospitality in allowing us to visit.” The doctor finished her work and turned to Data once more, a curious look on her face. “Tell me, Mr. Data, in all your years of journey aboard the Federation’s flagship, reaching the corners of places never seen before, what have you concluded about the nature of existence in the known galaxy?”

Data was perplexed by the scope of the question. He had collected innumerable amounts of information regarding life and existence, but he had never been able to synthesize a concise answer to that kind of quandary before. “I have no succinct answer to give you, doctor,” Data replied. The doctor seemed endeared to this, and she reached out to pat him on the shoulder.

This puzzled him further as he saw no need for such an action. If he had to hazard a guess, it could be determined that the doctor felt some sense of kinship in this answer and was attempting to comfort him in his inability to articulate a reply. The doctor was indeed a puzzling person. “Well, if you ask me,” the doctor said with a small smile, “life is a very underrated phenomenon in that it persists with or without conscious knowledge of it. One does not need to perceive a life for that life to exist. That’s the beauty of discovery. It is happenstance combined with all knowledge before it to create all knowledge that comes after it. And one day, that knowledge can disappear as easily as it was known, but that doesn’t erase it from having existed.”

Data had studied the great poets of the galaxy in his quest to understand the art form. As he listened to the doctor, he determined an underlying sense of poetic beauty in what she had said. The conviction of her belief was as steady as her heartbeat and the unwavering look in her eyes was hypnotic under the glow of the lights floating around them. He broke the gaze they held and glanced at the diamondite walls. “Doctor, I believe this is another clue to aid us in our quest,” Data pointed to a section of the wall at the bottom.

The doctor glanced at where he pointed, “Well done, Mr. Data!” she exclaimed softly. She continued to mutter under her breath, “can’t believe I almost missed that.” She clucked her tongue in chastisement at herself as she crouched low. As Data observed the doctor in her work, he could not help but file away in his memory banks all the peculiar things he noted about her, her manner of speaking, her beliefs, and the way she comported herself. “Well, Mr. Data, you certainly caught onto the linguistic structure of the hieroglyphs rather quickly,” the praise was said as the doctor stood up from her position. Data inclined his head in gratitude.

After that, they proceeded rather quickly, with the translation of the hieroglyphs split between the two of them. As the proceeded further into the pyramid, the work of translating fell into an unremitting beat, and they worked in silence and synchronicity. Data felt a further inclination to discuss with the doctor their previous topic, but the doctor had such a look of focus and intensity on her face, he did not want to interrupt.

The away team, left behind at the base of pyramid, was stunned to say the least. They had managed to lose the doctor within ten minutes of finding her, a historic new low. Picard tapped his comm, “Mr. Data come in. Data! Data, do you read me?” No answer came. They had lost complete communication with Data and the doctor. “Captain,” Deanna moved closer to whisper to Picard, “I have been attempting to follow the thread of these feelings that have been simmering in my mind since we entered this star system, and I have to let you know, these feelings are growing stronger than ever.” The urgency in Deanna’s voice alarmed Picard, but he remained calm. “Counselor, what is it you feel? Is it hostility?” he asked quietly. She shook her head, “No, not hostility. Curiosity. Melancholy. Apprehension.”

“Captain, I don’t mean to interrupt…” Commander Riker started saying. Picard looked away from Deanna and towards Will. He was looking up at the tree line and Picard followed his gaze. To Picard’s complete astonishment, there in the tree line, he could make out many peoples. Some crouched behind the foliage, others bravely standing on the edge of the massive branches. They all seemed curious about the away team, but they had no visible weapons, and did not emanate any violent intent. “Counselor, I believe we might have found the source of those feelings you have been experiencing,” Picard stated steadily.

 On the 11th hour of their exploration of the tomb, they reached the final chamber, or so indicated by their translation of the last hieroglyphs. Rather than proceeding forward with no hesitation as she had done previously, the doctor stood still and then crouched to the floor. She placed her right hand on her cheek and starred at the closed doors in contemplation. Data observed her silence for 5.1762 minutes before speaking up: “Doctor, is there a problem?”

“I like these moments,” she replied quietly. “The moments before you open the door to something and is irrevocably changed by what is beyond those doors. We will never get this moment back, you know. Once we open those doors and learn what we learn, we will be forever changed by it. This person you and I are, right now, they will be memories.” Data heard in her voice a wistfulness. For what, he did not know, but there was a sadness there, too. Doctor Le Flore stood up and stretched in her curious catlike manner. It reminded Data of Spot. She leaned forward and touched her toes before straightening up and turning to him, “All right, onwards, shall we?” Her grin had an infectious quality to it, and if he were human, Data mused, he would feel compelled to grin back at her. They proceeded to decode the door together, and as the door opened, he turned to watch her reaction instead of what lied beyond the opening door.

The look of wonder started small, and then it bloomed onto her face. Her lips opened in a gasp, and she exhaled a small breath. It almost startled him when she turned to look excitedly at him, her eyes making contact with his. “Come on, then!” She jumped forward in an almost skip, and again Data filed this away as another idiosyncratic tic that did not quite align with her perceived persona. 

The diamondite orb floated inside a column of white, luminous light. Data attempted to ascertain where the light source was coming from, but there was no shaft from which the light could have entered the pyramid. Around the orb and the light column was a ledge that circled the room, however a gap existed between the ledge and the shaft of light. Data peered down into the gap, but the distance was so deep even his advanced eyesight could not determine the bottom of the drop. The doctor did not seem concerned with this impediment. She moved along the wall with her hands touching the cool surface in a rhythmic pattern. It dawned upon Data that this was another puzzle.  

He watched as she quickly and efficiently solved the puzzle. Before she finished pressing the last sequence, she turned to him. “I need a favor from you,” she started, “within a second of completing the sequence and solving this puzzle, that protective barrier will disappear, and the orb will start to fall. I need you to jump across from this ledge to the other side and grab that orb before it falls.” Data nodded his head in understanding and moved to stand directly in front of the orb. He glanced at the doctor and indicated he was ready. She proceeded swiftly, solving the puzzle, which then released the orb. His eyes ascertained that he had a gap of 10.5 seconds before the orb fell well below the 1.68 decimeter of possible acquisition—anything below those thresholds meant an increase in the margin of error. He leapt forward as the orb started to fall, and with his superior speed and agility, landed gracefully on the other side with the orb tucked safely in his right arm. Turning around he smiled broadly (mimicking the expression he had seen) at the doctor in celebration of their success.

She walked over to him with a happy pep in her step and patted his shoulder in congratulations. “Thank you, sir, your services have been invaluable,” she said breathlessly while taking possession of the orb and holding it up for examination. “Doctor, I am a bit puzzled as to how you would have attained the orb had you embarked upon this venture on your own?” Data could not help but question the logistics of solving the final puzzle without his help. The doctor smiled indulgently at the question, “Why, Mr. Data, with these little guys of course,” she replied calling the floating lights towards her; where she indicated, the lights would gently tap against the surface. “I see… you would have retrieved the orb while simultaneously solving the puzzle. I must note, doctor, the margin of error, had you undertaken this course of action, would have been too great for success,” Data noted gravely. The doctor laughed lightly at this, the mellifluous sound of her laughter echoing off the diamondite wall and surrounding them.

“Perhaps. But what is an adventure without the potential risk of failure,” she stated with a shrug as she walked cheerily away with the orb. She was a perplexing person indeed, he thought, with his brow furrowed.

-The U.S.S. Enterprise-

Geordi was exhausted from the double shifts he had been pulling the last week in order to compensate for the strain they had put on the warp engine in their haste to retrieve Doctor Le Flore. Regardless of his perpetual exhaustion, he had promised to meet Data in Ten Forward for some down time, as they’d no time for decompressing since coming back from Abraxas IV. When the away team returned from their adventure, everyone had looked haggard to the bones. Of course, the exception being Data, who did not have a single hair out of place. It had been a week since their return with the doctor, and yet the mysterious doctor had not been seen by any crew members anywhere on the ship.

The rumor mill went into overdrive the moment Doctor Le Flore stepped foot off the transporter pad. There were whispers in the lower decks that she and Commander Data went on a harrowing adventure into an ancient tomb to return a precious artifact to a long-lost tribe, and thus restoring balance to Abraxas IV. Despite the gossip running rampant on the ship, the lack of presence from the doctor only fueled the curiosity of the crew, as many were not aware of what she looked like. Some ensigns, who were braver than others, would walk the deck where the doctor’s suite was located in an attempt to catch her out and about in the hallway, but to no avail.

Even Geordi had yet to catch glimpse of the doctor. As far as Geordi was aware, the only people who knew what the doctor looked like were the away team and Chief O’Brien, who had been on duty in the transporter room that day. As Geordi made his way into Ten Forward, he nodded hello to Guinan, and took a seat at a table to the far-left hand corner with a window view of the stars. Guinan came by with his usual order of an Indian Pale Ale synthehol that had a distinct closeness to the IPA he enjoyed on Earth. As he kicked up his feet and sat back to enjoy his drink, he noticed that a new person had entered Ten Forward, followed closely by Data. The slender woman had a charming smile, the kind that showed teeth and pushed her high cheekbones into happy, little red apples on her heart shaped face. Her long, platinum silver hair was held up in a loose manner by an intricate silver clip. She was wearing a cropped, black turtleneck tank top that hugged her torso with loose trousers that hung low on her hips in a relaxed manner. Next to her, Data was talking animatedly with his hands gesturing as he spoke. She seemed to be listening intently to whatever Data was expounding.

Geordi sat up and flagged Data down. He watched with intense fascination as Data gently tapped the woman on the arm and indicated to where Geordi was sitting. The woman seemed amenable to whatever it was Data suggested and followed him over. “Geordi, I would like to introduce you to Doctor Ophelie Le Flore,” Data said as they came to a stop at the table Geordi was seated at. “Hello, doctor,” Geordi said with a smile and a hand reaching out for a handshake. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lieutenant La Forge. Your friend has told me a lot about you,” Doctor Le Flore said with a smile and her hand out. As their hands clasped, Geordi could feel the calming grip of her hand enveloping his. He noted distantly that she had very small hands, but they were strong and solid. 

“Please, sit down, both of you,” Geordi gestured to the empty seats. They both took their seats opposite of him and turned to one another.

“I assure you, Data, Sherlock Holmes is not Earth’s most enduring cultural export,” the doctor stated without preamble. Geordi pursed his lips in surprise and amusement. This ought to be good, he thought, as he leaned forward to listen to Data’s response.

“Pray tell, doctor, what would be Earth’s primary cultural export, in your opinion then?”

“Why, hyper-sexuality, of course. And the sexualization of pop idols,” the doctor responded with an insouciant certainty. Data looked down, his mouth twisting downwards in consideration of the doctor’s opinion. As Data was about to give his rebuttal, a peal of giggles erupted nearby. Geordi, Data and the doctor shifted their gaze toward the bar area, where Commander Riker was chatting with a diplomat from Betazed. The diplomat was a pretty brunette with an impressively beautiful figure poured into a slinky, black dress that hugged her in all the right places. She leaned forward to whisper something into Riker’s ear and laughed coquettishly behind her hand.

Geordi let out a low whistle, “What I would give to get attention like that from a woman,” he said as he took a thoughtful sip from his drink. 

“I believe the scientific classification for the kind of man Commander Riker is, is pussy magnet,” the doctor declared wryly with mirth in her tone of voice. Geordi, who had been enjoying his brown ale synthehol, proceeded to spit the liquid out and dribble the remainder down his front at the doctor’s statement. Coughing slightly from the synthehol that went down the wrong pipe, Geordi nearly choked from the doctor’s comical observation. Data, on the other hand, was unsure how the Commander could possibly be attractive to cats and his confusion could be seen in the furrowing of his brows as he looked at the doctor with his head tilted in the manner that conveyed his perplexation. “Doctor,” Data began, “I am uncertain as to how Commander Riker’s interaction with the opposite sex can be translated into an attraction of the domestic specification for the species feles.” The doctor smiled patiently and leaned forward to whisper the clarification into his ear, Data’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline and his eyes widened in understanding of the doctor’s meaning. “I understand,” he murmured quietly as the doctor burst out with laughter at his grasp of her joke.

Guinan, sensing mischief, which was something she was always fond of, came sauntering over to the table with her hands on her hip. “And what can I get for you trouble-makers tonight, hm?” She inquired with a raised eyebrow, looking specifically at the doctor and Data. The doctor smiled neatly and held her hand out to Guinan, “Ophelie Le Flore, nice to meet you.” Guinan took the doctor’s hand warmly and gave it a firm shake. “Guinan. I tend the bar here, and I listen.”

“Guinan, tell me, how often do you listen to Commander Riker’s conversations with his lady companions?” The doctor asked with a smirk on her face. Guinan opened her mouth in faux, demurred shock. “Why, I would never do such a thing,” she whispered back scandalously. The doctor and Geordi chuckled at her response, whilst Data looked back and forth between the seated parties, his head jerking in curiosity at their statements. “Interesting…” Data murmured, “I believe you are all engaging in banter that would indicate some teasing element directed at Commander Riker.” The doctor laughed again, her laughter being quite infectious and affecting both Guinan and Geordi, who could not help but laugh with her. She tapped Data on the shoulder with her chin lightly and leaned forward to whisper into his ear, “Very astute, Mr. Holmes.”  

With that, the doctor stood up, and nodded her head at everyone. “I bid you all good night. This has been tremendously enjoyable, but I believe I need to slink back to my cave to do some work,” and with that she waved her hand and departed.

Data watched as she went, his eyes tracking her movement across the room and out the door. Geordi and Guinan exchanged knowing glances without further commentary. “Well, these next couple of months ought to be very interesting,” Geordi muttered under his breath as he took another sip of his drink.

[captainkurosolaire]

Resolve - ‘Un‘

 Embers of unclear burnt a paving path to a spiraling staircase. A dystopia forged by a whirlpool of regretful mistakes the place where flaw and the entities of stunt existed.   Smoke filled the area curating a smog from a cigarette. Could consider this a portion of the psyche that wrapped the Captain's decisions in remaining fogged. Without a proper gust or wind he remained unresolved. The outline etch of the tormentor's dress shoes came towards the Captain's in a bask of light the flame of the cigarette was crushed out between soles. The Pirate settled his head to lower in shame who and what this was...         

Fragmented splinters of memories floated through this distorted planescape that aching itch in one’s mentality of that gnawing depressor. There’s no place quite like the mind when it came to the array of capacity. A resolved and whole character who had centering balance they proved often shapers of endless creativity and mental fortitude. Tormentors were terrifying specters that often warped the mind in a million whispering hushed echos their pitches fit of misery. They sprawled around your subconscious preventing you from ever successfully moving onto growth. It encouraged the act of fear.

Whispering in distortion Negative uses fails as its repetitive weapon with unrelenting wickedness,  ”You’ve merely silence the beast within a gag, it doesn’t resolve the claws.”  ”Fester... hate... fume.. Let the inner you in. Only violent force makes dents.”                                                    “Boil until you’re deprived mad...”   “Here’s the thing about cross-roads, we’ve all decisions. You slept a bed with the devil than your own lover, that’s the difference is all.”         “Who’s left in your corner now?”           “You’re damaged.” “Those scars! You haven’t bled enough!”                      “You can’t do anything without others!”                                                  “Lose more! Lose MORE ANSWERS!” “Take everything. Settle at no expense.”                                                 “Look at your pathetic beast clutch its flower.” “Without Reasons your Heaven has Fallen”                                                         “You’re Hell of Unmet Promises.”                 “Show them real evil.”              “Actual violence.” “We killed the devil. That makes us the Devil.”        “They’re just fodder for us.”           “Anyone can replace them.” “Their thoughts hate you.”               “You’re loathed.”                         “How long until you gain only to lose the next batch?” “You can’t escape me.”                            “Others will die in your stead.“                              “Suit up. Confiscate your freedom.”       “Embrace the truth.”                  “Be one of them. One of US”              “Success needs to look the part.”                              “Do you remember her punches” ”Do you remember her bites?”             “Her dresses fade from you.”  “Perfection doesn’t look like you.” It pulled so desperately to pull to that place. Where in your subconscious you gave it power. Wanting to hear that you’re ‘undeserving.’ That you’re not ‘worthy.’ That you’re ‘inadequate.’ You’re a ‘reject.’ A failure once and always. Every step you took didn’t amount to anything wanting you to deter from the correct path. All the smallest insecurities, the harsh words you took from those closest to you, it saved to torture you with even when you said it didn’t bother you. -You lied... It bothered.- This menace came from the worst on the other-side of a mirror. Stabbing you again and again where the soul was until you were empty or left unsatisfied.  Miserable! It wanted you. Unhealthy it wanted you! Stagnant it wanted you to embrace the darkness. To spread toxicity and vileness in projection cause you couldn’t handle yourself. It mocked you by insulting you by being the opposite of what you once opposed. Wearing spikes instead of being in your comfortableness. It flashed your memories of the past to dwell. Instead of letting you see right before the future. The ultimate deceit. Demon buried under skins and minds constantly rotting until end of days is claimed. The Captain’s body began shaking as if frightened. "You're trembling because you know what remains the case..."    "Admit it..."            "You're Undeserving.”                              “Accept us..."                                              “Rejoin.”

The tormented pirate’s stance began regulating in steadiness. His head propping up as he revealed, he wasn't shaking... He was ugly laughing. With tears of manically, "Are ye kidding me? Yer my whole tormentor? Listen here Mopey-Dick, we're past that. I can't cast away my failures... If anyone ever put grander o' expectations that I was moral, well that's on them. I'm a screw-up -- grade A, the only time, I’ve gotten that grade with fit ranking! Even my dear ma' n' da' would be proud.--I'm twisted, one hundred percent. I don't do things by textbook, I'm a scrapper, a smash-mouth renegade. I thought my demon would be another Voidsent or much more intimidating and imposing... Though the fact, it’s lowly you..."

Pausing and laughing out in a disrupting loud, clutching his chest he thought he'd have a heart-attack.. "Or ME. -- Matey! This is what I call jolly findings... Listen. You ain't NOTHING! Second..." He'd crackle knuckles as if preparing for a beat-down before pretending to pick-up a link-pearl and bringing it to eared answer, his brow lifting in curiousness, before retorting, "It's NOTHING, says it’s for ye!" Then tossing the projected link-pearl at the tormentor’s head. He'd make a joke of his worst projection that he crafted, this part of him that nagged and gave doubtful voices. The only thing -UN- about this thing. Was WANTED! His willpower engulfed into a calamity of the brightest zen. What better way to conqueror yourself than shatter your own ego like the cigarette bud stomped earlier, insecurities, haunting nightmares, until it was deflated into mush. A reclaiming providence and control came back.

Realizing how insufficient his naysayer was that stood apart of him. That fragile side. He'd find his bellowing confidence back and recollect it from himself. Why he allowed his own-self to tear himself to shreds and cause grievance and lost, to strip himself of properly finding peace and conclusion was outside him.

To destroy this part would ensure he could properly find growth outside this internal stunt. A required necessity in being a Captain; Leader. Of True becoming the Anti-Steer.

This psychedelic trip brought him a conclusion and a grip to finally hold. Under normally may have never found without taking a plunge for this discovery to occur. In a stunned crossed visage of ‘The Undeserving’ the projection began getting decimated and thrashed around like a child’s target doll, whaled on nonstop. There was no further exemplified hatred then his former past transgressions to often conqueror seeing and realizing his own damages were caused by himself. This lesser variation, a scrawny portion of him that stood against himself in a time. He held no sympathy on burying this to forevermore.                     (Previous) --- References ---   ♫ --- (Next Page)

[botwstoriesandsuch]

Don't know if this is your thing buuttt, Sidon healing Links wounds after he gets fucked up by that Lynel?

Thanks for the request! I’m sorry this took so long, but better that I do it right, than fast ig. Sorry thats just a lame excuse, I just had a bunch of work Anyway, here’s my first Sidlink thingy, I’m actually really proud of how it turned out! (Am I allowed to toot my own horn? :P) Enjoy!

The Storm

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of The Wild

Sidon x Link, 3358 words

The rain poured against his skin. Lightning struck in the distance, closely followed by a roar of thunder. For now, the sky was dull and overcast, the only colors being the murky grey shine of the storm. It would not last. Beneath the rushing clouds, the glimmer of the moon could be seen. It was full, and cast its light down on the earth below. Only it wasn’t white or silver, instead, it shone a blood red. 

He watched from above, close to the mountain’s peak. On the ledge, he could get a good look on the field below. The grass was green, and dancing in the wind. Droplets pattered against large cerulean rocks that surrounded the area. Pine trees shivered with their evergreen tusks. Pink and purple bushes scattered the ground, strangely looking like coral. Ironically appropriate, considering this was the land of the Zora. The clouds were now rushing against the sky at a violent speed, specks of ash started to litter the air. Malice sparked around him, glowing like lanterns, as if celebrating the event that was to come. Soon, the colors of the sky shifted from pitch to fire, the air now shrouded in scarlet shades. Link stood on Ploymus Mountain, waiting for the world to come to life.

In the center of the field below, malice began to swirl. Tendrils, thick and smokey, trampled across the grass, decaying the flowers in its wake. The mass collected into a large conglomerate of black, red, and magenta. It rose and expanded with hypnotic swirls. Its shape pulsed as it took to a large, animal-like form. Smoke became flesh, and flesh became monster, as the beast was formed before his very eyes. Its hooves pounded against the ground, kicking up dirt, stomps causing the surrounding trees to shudder. It lifted its head to the scarlet sky and roared, its echo melding with the boom of thunder. The smoke and fog that had surrounded it now subsided. The malice that formed its body cleared. From the ashes of the blood moon emerged the beast, the Lynel.

The storm was now at its crescendo, the wind screamed in his ears. The rain soaked his clothes, the Champion’s Tunic hugging his skin. His hood was begging to billow in the wind, the edges of its black cloth blending with the night. But a single sword kept the hood fitted against his back. The sword that seals the darkness. 

The moon now waned back to its pale complexion, the sky darkened back to pitch. Winds lowered their screams, fading back to baleful whispers. The rain and thunder continued, but compared to the crimson show that had just happened, the forces of nature were welcome. 

Link observed the creature that had been born out of the dark. Its body was the color of rust, its silver weapons gleamed in the rain. A sword, a bow, a shield, along with its horns and teeth, and hooves that wouldn’t hesitate to crush his skull. Overall, an ordinary Lynel, nothing new here. Wind rushed through the beast’s crimson mane, tufts or red hair covered its arms and legs as well. Soon, it turned its gaze towards the towering cliffs near the summit. Its sharp teeth grinded, an itch in the back of its throat asked for blood. At the top was a figure, covered with a black hood, tanned trousers, and bright blue tunic. The Lynel’s eerie emerald eyes glared up at the boy, daring him to remove his hood and stare back. 

Perhaps it would be the last thing they ever saw.

Now the world was silent. The only sound Link could hear was that of his own, rhythmic heartbeat.

He sprinted towards the beast. 

Still not looking it in the eye, Link bolted down the mountain, leaping from rock to rock. His sword was still sheathed on his back, for he knew from experience that closing the distance between them was life or death. If the beast went for its bow, its shock arrows would be fatal in this rain. The Lynel gave a familiar roar. Burly arms reached for the arsenal on its back.

Strike now!

There were several advantages to being armed with only a single sword. It kept him light on his feet, the slim sheathe fastened securely so it wouldn’t fall off should he tumble, roll, or dodge out of danger. Furthermore, his speed was not burdened by too much weight on his back, for strength is only as good as the swiftness you have to strike a blow. And of course, a single blade meant you only had to focus on one thing. Sinking the sword into skin.

His feet landed on the soft grass, he was now only a few paces away from the Lynel. With one fluid motion, Link reached back and unsheathed his sword. It gleamed with a blinding light, distracting the beast for a moment. There was still some distance between the two. With the first swing, he flung a beam of light at the Lynel’s face. It traveled across the sky, glimmering like a star, with the speed of an arrow. It successfully hit its target, slashing the beast’s face. Before it even had time to process the pain or react, Link ran up to fight head on. Using his momentum, he thrust the sword’s edge into one of the beast’s legs, putting all his weight and strength behind it. The Lynel bellowed in pain. It finally reached for its weapons; a sword, with a blade so big you could dance on it, and a shield, thick enough that you could forge a whole set of armour from its metal. 

The beast raised its arms into the air, a motion intent on slamming Link from both sides. It’s weapons cut through the air at impossible speeds. But just before the blade made contact with his body, time slowed. Link steadied his legs, then performed a backflip, dodging gracefully out of the Lynel’s clutches. In midair, the world was still moving at a snail’s pace, he could see the beast in the motion of attacking an assailant who was no longer in front of it. When his feet connected back with the earth, he rushed forward, delivering a flurry of attacks with the opening the Lynel had created for itself. With each blow, the sword gleamed a sapphire glow. After a series of deadly strikes, the rain poured back to its regular pace. 

The Lynel regained its composure due to the new wounds created on its abdomen. Now enraged, it quickened its strikes, slashing violently in any direction in order to get a hit on Link. He dodged, jumped and rolled. It was a dance in the rain, his footwork being the only thing keeping him alive. With every swing the Lynel made, Link pivoted, backflipped, and dodged, attacking the openings. The beast’s rust and crimson colored fur matched well with the bloody wounds it was now receiving. 

Ruby and sapphire clashed on the field. A blue blade glowed against the black of night. He was doing well, despite the fact he was playing with death. Link hadn’t been hit yet, and it would hopefully stay that way, since one blow could cause his demise. But this had to be done. 

Every blood moon, the path to the infamous Shatterback Point would be blocked by the presence of this beast. The Zora had all but given up on reclaiming their favourite diving point, for every effort to kill the beast would be erased with its revival by Ganon. It wasn’t worth it, risking the lives of their soldiers with an unstoppable threat like that. Furthermore, the Lynel was known to stride across the mountain, so any traveler or unlucky explorer searching for supplies or ingredients would instead be met with a bloody surprise. The best they could do was stay away, the only thing keeping the beast from the rest of the Domain was the towering waterfall by Lulu Lake. What kind of hero would he be if he couldn’t take care of this problem? What kind of hero would let the Zora sit in fear of the Lynel forever?

If I can’t beat a Lynel with ease, what hope does anyone have that I can defeat the Calamity?

And so here he was, banging repeatedly on death’s door, to kill a beast again and again. The rain poured against Link’s hood, the cloth now free to billow in the wind. They continued their fight, the stakes didn’t lessen each time they clashed. Link’s stamina was starting to give out, but it was almost finished. The Lynel’s movements were starting to slow, its wounds now gaping, rain washing blood onto the grass. Suddenly, the beast’s eyes flickered. It stopped attacking Link, sword and shield drooping at its side. Link watched with a careful eye, keeping his own sword at the ready. 

What was this? 

The beast placed its weapons on its back, then set its arms on the ground, as if to bow. Link didn’t understand at first, that is until he saw the Lynel’s baring teeth and bent hind legs.

Oh sh—

The Lynel lurched forth, thundering across the plain, ready to charge into him. At the last second, Link leaped out of the way, the world started to slow once more.

That was close. Some surprise attack, I’m almost impressed. But they missed…

Link’s boots landed on the grass once more. Looking back in the direction of the beast, he expected to see its lumbering figure. He expected to see the Lynel, now exhausted from its wounds, lying collapsed in the dirt. At the very least, he expected to just see the Lynel. Instead he saw something much worse. 

The beast, still dripping blood across the field, had continued charging forward. In its sights, was a tall blur of red and white. A silver and turquoise rapier shimmered in the wind. The blur had its own teeth bared, their smile sparkled like a star.

Ohnoohnoohnoohnoohno

Sidon?!

From Sidon’s stance, it looked like he meant to meet the Lynel head on. But there was no way he could handle such a direct blow so close to the mountain’s edge. Link frantically ran after the beast, but it was too far ahead, too far to reach with his sword. Even a beam of light couldn’t get there fast enough. While he tried to stay silent in order to convey his strength and composure, it was hard to keep his oath when he was about to watch one of his closest friends die.

“SIDON!”

Prince Sidon turned his attention towards the sudden shout. There was the Hylian Champion, sprinting towards him, fumbling with something on his belt. 

“DON’T RUN! KEEP STILL ‘TILL I SAY SO!”

Keep still? Shouldn’t I at least attempt to fight the Lynel? Sidon thought. Looking back ahead, the beast was still barrelling towards him, quick as lightning. No. This isn’t either of our first brushes with danger. I trust Link, with every scale of my being! Sidon gave a nod in Link’s direction, along with a reassuring smile, despite the adrenaline and slight dread he was feeling. 

Link was running as fast as his legs would carry him. He had unfurled his hood, allowing the rain to soak the rest of his body. He was desperately trying to unclip the item from his belt. He hadn’t really tried it out yet, he had just gotten the upgrade a week ago, but no time like the present! The Lynel was almost at its target, Sidon kept his eyes locked on Link, with his thoughtful, golden eyes. He also wore his unwavering smile. His beaming teeth put the moon to shame— GAH! NOT THE TIME LINK!

Finally, he got it off his waist, the Sheikah Slate. Hurriedly swiping through his runes, Link picked up the pace, there was no way he would make it in time. 

Would this even work? If Sidon moves too soon, it might not kill it, then we’re both dead. Is the upgrade strong even enough for a monster like that? It’s a gamble at best. How much time would this— here it is! 

Selecting the rune, Link held the Sheikah Slate in front of him. The Lynel was about two seconds away from Sidon’s face. 

Purah don’t fail me now!

Link pressed his thumb against the screen, allowing a stream of yellow light to fly out, towards Sidon and the Lynel. 

From Sidon’s point of view, Link was running towards him with a strange rock in his hand. It looked familiar…but he could reminisce later. For now, the Lynel was almost on him, the world seemed to slow, he could feel the beast’s hot breath against his face. He was close enough to reach out and touch its yellow fur.

Wait…yellow?

“SIDON! MOVE NOW!”

The monster was stopped dead in its tracks. Wait, was it dead? It’s claws were still outstretched, sharp white teeth bared, ready to tear him open. What did this mean? He couldn’t hear much, there was a strange sound amidst the downpour of rain, like a frog croaking, or bird with a high pitched song. It sang, beep, beep, Beep, Beep, Beep-BEep-BEEp-BEEP, BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP— 

“SIDON!”

Suddenly, he was shoved from the side. His rapier fell out of his grasp, Link wrapped his arms around Prince Sidon as he tumbled into the dirt. 

The noise stopped, the Lynel’s crimson mane returned, the yellow hue gone. It continued its charge forward, like nothing had ever happened. To everyone’s surprise, the beast’s momentum continued off the side of the mountain, for no Zora was there to stop its fall. The Lynel fell down towards Lulu Lake below. It clawed at nothing, hooves scraping at wind. It gave out one more deafening roar, echoing through the air. The final sound was that of a soft thud from far below. 

‘Till next time then. Link thought

Link had landed next to Sidon. They were both out of breath, adrenaline still coarsing through their veins. Sidon got on his feet, still looking at the cliff the beast had just dove off of. Turning back to Link, Sidon sputtering.

“Link why, how in Hylia did you— t-that was amazing! But what are you even doing here?”

The Hylian Champion sat on the grass, the rain soaking under his tunic. He held out his hands, putting his thumb around his fingers to sign.

Stasis. Sheikah Technology. Temporarily stops things.

Sidon nodded, “Right, but why in the world are you here?”

Lynel causes a lot of trouble.

“But we haven’t had any reports about that monster in weeks! How could—” 

He stopped mid-sentence. “Tonight was the blood moon, you…you’ve been slaying it every blood moon, haven’t you? Oh Link, why would you burden yourself with such a thing…”

He extended his arm down, helping Link up. The rain was starting to dwindle. The winds blew through Link’s hood, his blue and red tunic contrasting with the ground.

Red? Red…RED…BLOOD!

“AHH!! Link! Holy Hylia, when you knocked me out of the way, the Lynel’s claws must’ve—”

I’m just gonna. Rest. For a second… We can catch up later…

“LINK!”

… . .

The thing about waterbeds is that when you wake up abruptly from nightmares or dreams, you start bouncing around like an idiot, lessening any tension or fear you might have. This was something Link discovered in real time, as he awoke in Zora’s Domain.

It was around noon, the sun was high, and the clouds had long departed. Cerulean architecture surrounded him, with pearl, lapis, and luminous accents. Out the arched windows, he could see there was no rain, but the sound of rushing water continued. The streams that filled the aqueducts gurgled and giggled, a cool aura surrounded the whole palace. Link was in some sort of bedroom, a table on his left had some oils and bandages sitting on its surface. Still bouncing up and down, he began lifting up his shirt, notably blue, the same shade as his tunic. He looked to where he had been feeling some aching, on his left side were three large, deep scars. 

“Don’t worry, they’ll fade.”

Looking up, Link saw Sidon standing at the door. They both smiled. Link moved his other arm from under the covers. 

It’s fine. I’ll add them to my collection.

Sidon chuckled. He walked over, then sat at the foot of the bed, careful not to let Link bounce towards the ceiling. They just stared at each other for a while. Link allowed himself to gaze at Sidon’s big, golden eyes. They glimmered like the sun. Many might not have noticed it, but Link saw Sidon’s expression falter, just a bit.

“Link, how can anyone ever thank you?”

Link pushed the rest of the covers off him, bringing his knees to his chest.

It’s my duty. To protect Hyrule. And save the people I care about.

“But Link, you keep…” Sidon looked down for a moment, before returning his gaze, “I’ve seen your scars. You have so many, it’s not safe for you to keep working yourself like this. You can’t keep thrusting yourself into battle.”

Link tilted his head. I’m the only one who’s strong enough to. I kept killing the Lynel because I wanted to take care of… Link stopped for a moment. All the Zora people. Link’s face had a slight tint. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.

Sidon gave a deep sigh. Then, he looked back at Link, moving himself closer.

“Link, you truly are incredible, and amazing, and brave, and kind, and true, and wonderful…”

If he wasn’t blushing already, he was now. Link didn’t have his hood to hide his rosy cheeks in. Maybe if he just “casually” hugged Sidon he could hide there…

Sidon continued to carefully move closer. 

“…and strong, and diligent, and clever, and dependable, and skilled and–”

Thank you very much Sidon! That’s very kind! You too! Same with you!

His face was now on fire. Was it possible to show his flustered speech through Hylian sign language alone? Anymore of this and his face would be the same color as Sidon’s scales.

“Yes well, the point is Link, I’ve always…admired you for the marvelous person that you are. And I know you’ve already been burdened with plenty of things, from Ruta, to the Lynels, to the Calamity, but might I just ask one more thing of you?”

Sidon leaned down, softly placing his hands on Link’s shoulders.

“Could you take care of yourself, and stay safe? For me?”

Link stared up into his glimmering, gold eyes. They were calm and sincere, nothing like the storm he had just fought through.

“I know you’re strong, but please, don’t go running off to your next adventure just yet. Stay at the Domain and regain your strength. Allow me to take care of you, as a simple thanks. We can’t…I can’t have you dying.”

Without another thought, Link flung his whole body onto Sidon, locking him into a warm embrace. Sidon reached down and returned the hug. Link’s sapphire shirt clashed against Sidon’s ruby scales.

“Link, I was never as good of a healer as my sister, but I promise. I promise to always take care of you, all your wounds, pains, and sorrows. I couldn’t imagine how anyone could live without you. Please, stay alive for me? I…I simply…I…”

Link pulled back, his blue eyes reflected the glow of the room. 

I’ll stay with you.

Then, Link put one hand on Sidon’s face, caressing it. Then, he signed.

And 

I love you too.

Sidon, in a bit of shock, let his mouth hang agape. His sharp teeth gleamed with the sparkles of the room. Then, he allowed himself to smile, and leaned his cheeks further into Link’s hand. The two of them stared at each other, adoration and warmth colored both of their faces. The air was crisp and cool, and the sky was still young. It was safe, and for a moment they could forget about the monsters of the outside world.

This was the calm…after the storm.

[iceberger3]

Pixelot - Dragon Trial

I'm really excited to share the last devlog post before the update goes live!

After defeating Salamandro in Mt. Magmor, the party goes back to wyrm to find that it is under attack by demons! The party rushes to the aid of Lord Christopher and he joins your party!

Christopher is a Lord / Highlord with powerful defensive abilities. His main attack deals damage and combos into a piercing attack. He has two multi target attacks, the first lowering the defense of all his enemies and the second reducing the damage the party takes. Lastly he has a powerful single target attack that boosts the damage every party member deals on their next attack. His Gaia Blade ability boosts his power and causes his attacks to deal additional earth damage. He has a mirror shield ability that reflects damage on one target and a black cloak ability that blocks all melee damage. His final ability, steelfire, boosts defense and power for the party.

After defeating the demons in Wyrm, Chris tells the party about the dragon trial, a mystical quest into Mt. Volkor to defeat the Dragon Lord Volkor and ask for his protection. The party convinces Chris that they are going with him whether he likes it or not and so they set out to Volkor Valley to begin the trial. The trial consists of three parts, the fire dragons in the valley, the ice dragons in the mountain, and the storm dragons on the mountain top.

The fire dragon trial is relatively easy and simple. The party travels east through the valley defeating fire dragons until they reach Blacking, the leader of the fire dragons. Blackwing and Garrett get into a ... Heated... Discussion and a fight ensues. Blackwing has a powerful fire attack that also lowers the party's defense. He has a strong tail swipe attack that deals physical damage each turn as well. After defeating Blackwing he warns you that the rest of the dragons will be more difficult and gives you a dragon coat. The dragon coat is an epic armor piece that has high power, balanced defense and resistance, and can be worn by anyone.

The ice dragon trial is the longest stretch of the trial. To traverse the cavern in Mt. Volk, the player will need to navigate through several ice puzzles, switches, and locked doors. There are a number of really powerful items in the cavern including a dragon scale that ignores 30% of the enemy's defense and resistance. Once you reach the end of the cavern, the party faces off against Azura, the brood mother of the dragons. Azura heals herself and her three eggs each turn. After only a few turns the eggs will hatch. If the eggs successfully hatch they will turn into dragons and be healed to full health. These dragons have infinite power and will 1 shot the party if they are allowed to hatch. The boss fight serves as a sage race as the player must balance staying alive and defeating the eggs in time. Once the eggs are defeated, the rest of the fight is much easier. After defeating Azura, she vows to protect your town and the player takes the ladder to the top of mountain top.

The final stretch of the dragon trial is consisted of a few maps where the player must defeat enemy storm dragons and climb higher on the mountain. Off to the side of one of the paths is a rainbow scale relic that reduces magic damage by 30% which is very helpful against the final dragon boss. Upon reaching the peak of Mt. Volk, the player battles against Volkor the Storm Lord, a powerful storm dragon. Volkor deals massive electric damage and always stuns 1 player per turn. A great way to counter this is to have a sage use purify on the party. With their high speed they will cure paralysis for whoever is stunned (unless of course they are the ones stunned!). If the player manages to defeat Volkor, they will receive his protection and the Storm Crystal!

The storm crystal greatly boosts every hero's offensive abilities and overall power. Once they collect the crystal they meet with Astrum again and they challenge him asking why they need to get more of the crystals. Astrum informs the party that the demon sisters have started a war between Hyperion and Vangarde, the two counterparts to Myria. This is the end of the story content for this update!

While players wait for the next update the have the ability to compete against bosses and monsters in the arena! Defeating the last boss in the arena grants the party a legendary cloak that boosts stats for the hero each turn. When the party recruits Chris, he has a legendary bandana equipped that boosts critical strike chance. The party also has the ability to forge a legendary spear that increases damage against dragon enemies. This is very helpful in the dragon trial and against the last Arena Boss, Prisma. Prisma deals massive damage, is level 75, boosts her own stats, and lowers the party's stats each turn.

I really hope you are as excited for this new update as I am! Once Google finishes approving the app, I will make it available on Android, iOS and Desktop/Mac/Linux at the same time, so stay tuned!

[intensitystoner]

Adjective challenge 8 – Laughable Sifki

“And you thought I was in the bath,” Loki concluded the lengthy explanation.

“Yes. Yes, that’s what I thought, exactly,” the Warmaiden hurried to agree.

“Annnd so you entered because…?”

“Uh,” her look darted around for a moment before she perked up. “Because of the bilgesnipe, of course, why else would I… barge in on your… recluse?”

“Ah, yes, the bilgesnipe.”

“The bilgesnipe noises, to be exact. Because there was no bilgesnipe here, as you have already found out. Now, if you’d be so kind and release this spell…”

Loki, however, frowned and leaned to the counter in apparent brooding.

“Sif, I made up the bilgesnipe myself, when we were, what, four hundred?”

(It had been great fun ever since: his tales escalated successfully, and up to this day, everyone claimed to have encountered the non-existent creature that was only visible to people of sufficient intelligence.)

“Y-you did? Alas! Then what could have made the noise?” Sif wondered vehemently.

“I’m sure we’ll find out eventually. What concerns me more, however, is why you’re holding onto my shampoo so insistently.”

“Because you haven’t released the binding spell yet,” she pressed through a clenched jaw with forcible lightness in her tone. She was sitting on the sill of the tub, her hand glued to the violet bottle.

“Oh, right,” he snapped his fingers in realisation. “This brilliant little spell woven to keep thieves in place until they’re caught in the act.”

“I assure, you, Loki, it was but an accident…” she faltered to give room for the sorcerer to interject with his doubt; however, he waited patiently for the continuation, eyebrows arching curiously.

Sif sighed then and tried for some pity.

“My arm is starting to ache. Won’t you please release me so we can settle this in a proper manner?”

Loki shook his head with the required sympathy on his face.

“Not until you spill the truth.”

Head bent down, she kept her lips sealed tight for a minute before she spoke.

“I needed the scent. Happy?”

“The scent? Of my hair?”

“Yes! Can I go now?”

“No, no, tell me more,” Loki requested settling back against the counter while his hand absently brushed through the bottom of his short locks.

“There is no more to tell! How can you be this cruel?”

“I’m cruel? Sif, someone has been sneaking into my chambers. For months, I’ve been fearing for my life.” He was clearly overdramatising but enjoyed every moment of it.

“That’s not possible, there were no signs lef- How did you find that out?” she asked desperately over her blunder.

He laughed into her face.

“How? From the signs that klutz has left, obviously. The things that wandered out of here. The book from which I’ve read to you? The dagger I’ve used to get us the high-growing fruits on the last journey? The bag of cashews we pilfered together? The rein you tore while attempting to drive me to my demise?”

“I was saving your life!”

“In any case, there is only one thing in common among these items.”

“Yes, they’re all yours, it’s crazy, now let me go.”

“They hold memories of us both,” he corrected. “I really have no idea what that indicates, however. Especially with the shampoo as the last puzzle piece: that one is all me. For your information, it’s my personal brew, you won’t get it on anyone else.”

She could have exploded under his (fake, fake) expectant look.

“Think whatever you think, I don’t care a wee bit,” she announced, causing him to throw up his arms with a perplexed smile.

“I don’t even know what to think. As I said, I’m clueless. I’m waiting for you to clear it all up at last.”

“All right, fine, I deserve it,” she gave in, her voice wavering in embarrassment as she strived to keep it annoyed. “I’m here because you mean more to me than it’s safe to admit to Your Prickliness. I enjoy our times together, and it’s an efficient way to prolong them a bit by holding those items with me for a while. But you keep all these things to yourself, so this is the only option I have.”

The prince stared at her frowning for a long while, longer than she felt it comfortable.

“Prove it,” he demanded then sternly.

“Isn’t this much humiliation enough?” she snapped.

“It’s all words. It could be a cleverly forged lie to get you out of trouble, for all I know.”

Her cheeks flushed but she kept a straight face, her voice a tad milder.

“I could as well try, but how can I do that from here?”

“Try words, then,” his palm waved at the evidence of the matter.

“Words?” she said in dismay. “You know it’s not my forte. Is it why you torment me with it? I just wanted to indulge in you a little more without pushing myself onto you, that’s all. Big deal, not the greatest in the history of sins. But you guard these worthless objects like a mother bear her cubs.”

Wrinkles of utter bafflement appeared on the bridge of his nose while he stirred.

“Why do you assume I keep them?” he inquired, and he cut into her brooding silence right away. “Who needs a torn rein? The book’s return date to the library was long due by then. A bag of nuts doesn’t usually last that long. So tell me, to what conclusion did you arrive when you wondered about that?”

Her fluttering gaze clearly indicated she never got this far in her thinking.

“Why would I be so protective of such bric-à-brac?” he prompted her on.

“Because you’re a hoarder?” she guessed carefully.

“Because they’re precious to me,” he explained with a wide hand gesture ending up at his heart. “Those memories are as fond to me as they are to you.”

With an urging nod, he waited for light to reach the maiden’s mind at last. In fact, it had happened a while ago, shown by the flush slowly spreading on her cheekbones, but he could not be sure when, or if, she was willing to admit it.

“Well,” she breathed now, her look on the ground. “I guess then this matter is resolved, isn’t it?”

“It seems so,” he smiled, and Sif mirrored it.

“This is quite a day to remember,” she noted. “I’d say I hope this tale won’t be on everyone’s lips by the time I make it out of your bathroom, but, well, this is you…”

His gaze followed her free hand’s dismissing wave that accompanied her forced chuckle, and then it rested up on her face.

“It is me,” he agreed, but there was no malice in his tone. “As for your release, dear, beautiful, gallant Sif, it is bound to one condition.”

The flush on her cheeks reached its depth just now.

“What is it then?” she asked quietly.

Then the sorcerer’s face dropped all sweetness.

“An apology,” he claimed.

The maiden frowned at the sudden change, but after a breath, she decided to drop her futile defence, and she sighed.

“All right, I’m sorry. I should have asked you for these items. I just feared I’d be a deliberate target of your mockery. That part is rightful, isn’t it?”

“No, no,” Loki stopped her with a palm raised but frowning before himself in search for the right wording. His hand gestures preceded his explanation. “You’ve been scorning at me in public since I can remember. You’re no different from the rest, you follow the trending attitude: let’s hate the vile trickster for his misdeeds.”

“That is not true. When have I ever attacked you without you triggering it purposefully?”

“Watching in silence is all the same, Lady Sif.”

“Did you not deserve it when the ones harmed by you took their revenge? What could I have said in your defence?”

He shook his head morosely, lips stubbornly holding the grudge.

“I demand a public apology for your attitude,” he insisted.

“Loki, I’ve held you my friend since the beginning. It isn’t possible to count how many times you helped me up on my path to greatness. But I can’t apologise for letting justice have its way.”

“Very well, then you shall remain here to indulge in my sole company for the rest of our lives.”

“Indulging would be a strong word for the hate you’d grow in me.”

“You won’t remember to hate me,” he answered lightly like he’d been sharing the most obvious fact. “The spell I cast on you will wipe your mind each day. You’ll love how it tackles the problems you’ve described: your remaining purpose in life will be me and only me.”

“You wouldn’t,” she hurried to reassure herself.

“And why not?” He seemed genuinely curious.

“If you feel for me to the depths you claim to, you’ll never leave me in such demise.”

“You think very little of my greed.”

“No, you’re the one who thinks little of people. You think they hold you for a devil, so you behave like one purposefully to mock their narrow view. But you’re gracious and warm towards the ones who actively seek your company, and it betrays your chosen masks. It is the worth in you that not many care to see, and the one that has enthralled me from the start,” the maiden admitted coyly.

His timid smile was all that answered, and to escape further debates of the matter, he reached for the maiden’s captive hand. To her relief, the bottle let go of her as he held her fingers. She stood up smiling into the teal eyes that mirrored the warmth in her heart.

Her expression faded slowly as she realised her hand wouldn’t move from his oh-so-light hold.

“Just until you fulfil your part of our agreement,” he reassured her, and with a smile that told about all being fine, he led her out of his chambers.

“Which we did not arrive to,” she stated.

“We’ll see, my dear. We’ll see.”

“Where are you taking me?” Sif craved to know as they strode on the corridor hand in hand.

“The guards, to report on your thieving tendencies,” Loki answered merrily. “Or our friends so you can announce my worthiness of your affections. Whichever we run into first.”

Neither would do for the Warmaiden, naturally. Thus, she jerked her captor into the next alcove they passed, pinning him to the wall with her own body, their breaths grazing each other above her restraining arm.

“I wish you would reconsider. There are countless other ways I’d be willing to appease you, yet you concern with something as meaningless as others’ envy.”

“I don’t even know any more why I insisted,” Loki admitted huskily.

He welcomed the kiss induced by the maiden, smiling into it triumphantly as the faint noise of an approaching group hit his ears.

[inviouswriting]

Astral

 - of or relating to the stars­.

Continuations to the ongoing story sagas. 

Warnings - Some mild graphics and continued angsty materials. Mostly with Kivera’s past shown. Hinted things that happened to her, without it being said.

Some character deaths in my own’s Damien.

Mentions for 

@candideangel​ ‘s Angelique

@earthlystar​ ‘s Yume.

and the polyship with @maiden-born-in-snow​ 

Antares. Kivera had given her weapon the name, following her alignment as Scorpio. The spirit of it, it was only fitting her scythe was named Antares. It was more than just her weapon. It is her heart. Antares is the heart of Scorpio, her weapon is beloved by her.

Kivera remembers the time it was forged. How she had Hephaestus take her heart out of her body to make the weapon. Made in adamantine metal. She had to bargain for the materials. 

Since after, she has never been without it, always pinned to her ear when she didn’t need it. Or now, sitting on it as if she were a witch. She had returned to Eorzea, after a choice few days in her own world. Recovering her mental strengths before she even dared approach the people she wanted to see.

She had sent Divinity a notice that she would be back, and that she and Shuri would be the first she sees. Following the destruction she had done. She had to do it this way. Go in the order of who she felt hurt most. G’raha would be last on her list, he was a different level of what she wanted to even touch with the former Exarch. She harbored her feelings on his being.

He was not the same as Vanth, she had made a great error in her judgement and many suffered for her reaction itself. The magic used was the same, but perhaps she can overlook it. She felt bitter still, she is bitter still. G’raha shouldn’t be there, not when he has successfully cheated death too many times and lives comfortably compared to the lives of those who were altered permanently.

She shakes her head as she waits in front of Haukke Manor, she gave the location to Divinity, and soon enough she sees her and Shuri. There is a look of relief within Shuri at seeing the elusive reaper. 

She was well in the most of what her spirit life is like. The mental toll done was great.

Divinity is first to grab hold of Kivera arms wound tight around her. Nearly knocking her off her scythe. Shuri right at her side with the same vigor. Kivera greets them both with bright gold eyes, Divinity worries a second but sees this as her content color. 

“I’m sorry for the trouble I caused..”

Kivera knows the look in Divinity’s face and Shuri’s. Both were wondering the same.

“Why?” They only had Divinity’s explanation to go on. 

“Cid messed with time, G’raha messed with soul magic. Both are unforgivable among the underworld. I thought to scare them a bit so they realize how dangerous it is. They should be glad it was me, and not another one who governs the same dimensions. They would be dead by now.” Divinity sighs as her explanation was right concerning them, now if only the Scion’s could understand the magnitude with the same ease, Angelique and G’raha as well.

Yume understood, the magic involved in Cid’s side was dangerous. Just as G’raha’s was. 

“What do you plan to do now then?” Divinity asks.

“I will approach each of them alone and by myself. It is better it comes from me.” They were ignoring a greater fact. Ardbert. Kivera fixates her gaze onto Shuri, she leans down to press her forehead to hers.

“Forgive me, for what I am about to share with you, I have only shown you a glimpse of my past that one night we were in my sanctuary. I shielded you from the worse memories.. You deserve to see them unaltered. I miei Ricordi dei morti.”  Kivera says her incantation quiet.

A flood of memories is shown into Shuri, Kivera’s descent in Hell, from where her wings were torn off, how she was treated among demons and other souls alike. How her body was used, her eyes, and left to one of the paths in the circle of Lust. The version Shuri sees is a broken shell of what now stands before her. 

Kivera lets her see how she stumbled through the different layers blinded, coming across Parn. A small imp like boy, red eyes and brown haired. He was stumbling like Kivera, but helped support her walking through. Both spirits end up in a frozen lake of fire, the same flames that were once used on Ardbert, Cid, and G’raha. Dark and tinged with purple and black. They burned at her till they both had reached a shore. 

Kivera ends that part of her memories, seeing the tears on Shuri’s face, she sighs and gives her a moment before she continues them. Alot to process.

“You remember why I was thrown into The Underworld?”

“For love?”

“Yes.” Divinity looks away, knowing the next memories will be hard. Kivera rests her forehead again to Shuri’s picking up again, this time, a different time period, a different world. One with sickly green skies and flames littering the ground. She shows her Vanth. His face devoid of features that made him resemble human. More skeletal, no eyes except flames where his eyes should be. Twisted horns every other way on his head, and in front of Kivera, seeming despondent.

Kivera was standing over two other people on the floor, one with a ornate sword, and one with a lance. Her scythe poised for a strike on both of them. She herself looked sickly green in her skin, and eyes lime in color. Like she wasn’t truly in control of herself. A puppet. 

Divinity was a few feet away outside of the circle pulling at a chain to be loose, the magic on it suppressing her ability to cast her ability to protect the men who laid staring at their leader in disbelief.

One more person, a voice that gets through the fog of her mind. Damien’s throwing something at her, making her recoil from almost taking the heads of the other spirits.

When she comes to her senses the places is engulfed in fire, and Kivera is back to herself. The spirits were freed but not forgetting how she almost killed them, Kivera sitting at an edge. Divinity and Damien giving her a comfort together. 

She had been the lich’s puppet for a while, she had helped Vanth gain servants for his next phase. Kivera doesn’t forgive herself for it.

During this exchange, Damien is snared by Vanth, and Kivera is repelled out of the realm with the spirits. The next spot is one Shuri knows, Damien’s death.

The same destructive power that was felt when she fought against Ardbert is shown to Shuri, how she devastates the realm of Agitazione. Destroys it down to ashes and a crater she plunges deep into a border between Hell and Purgatory.

Kivera spends the years following it, chasing the feeling of love, she spares her seeing her in different states of different lovers.

Everything else she shows Shuri is stuff she first revealed to her. She centers a focus on one memory. When she had pleaded to the Fates and to Chronos to get Damien back.

The time magic used in her taboo, the reaching through to pull the soul back in soul magic. The distraught look on her face when he didn’t remember her. Or even acknowledge her. Just stared through her like she wasn’t there at all.

“You should have been more careful when agreeing blindly to my conditions.” The time god had said.

“The conditions of his revival. He cannot remember you, and you cannot make him remember you. He does not know who or what you are, what you were to him. For if you break this pact between our contract. He will be plunged into Tartarus to suffer a fate worse than the death he experienced at your hands. And you will be there right with him watching it. This is your punishment for meddling with what was meant to happen.” Kivera was left to agree, refusal would have been the time god acting on it.

She stops the share after that, everything else is already known, from her rise to her current state as Purgatory’s keeper. Divinity sits behind Shuri, her arms around her waist from behind.

Kivera keeps her gaze steady, she didn’t need to speak for what she wanted her to understand. No good comes from the magic that G’raha used, or the meddling Cid did. It makes for endless sorrow. One the reaper has to live with for eternity.

“You did not deserve that.”

“It did though, it was my hope that scaring those men from continuing the path. I know it, I did it. The soul magic Vanth used on me to enslave me, to jump from host to host. It’s selfish if used wrong.”

“You don’t have to explain it more, we’re on your side through this. We didn’t spend time defending your name to come tell you, what you did was wrong. We just wanted you to come back here.” Divinity looks at Kivera, and the former angel sees her eyes are both gold. She leans over to restore her sight again.

“You didn’t need to defend my name... the ire I earned was deserved for how I attacked needlessly. Specially Ardbert.” Kivera’s face is pinched by Shuri.

“Enough of that! They were talking about how to kill you if it came to that. As for Ardbert. He regrets what he said to you. He’s been kicking himself thinking all the trust you showed in him is gone.” Shuri tugs Kivera’s face closer to her own and presses the side of her face a horn to her cheek. Kivera returns the gesture and rubs her face to the horn in the way Xaela show affection.

“He did hurt me more than he knows. The trust is still there, but I’ll be a little less receptive to him for a while.” Kivera’s confession that Ardbert didn’t break her trust, just wounded her a bit was a relief to both of them.

“When do you intend to see him?” Kivera looks between them.

“Soon, for now spend your time with me?” She looks to the side as she says this, hiding the creeping pink in her eyes.

“We’re happy to oblige that.” Kivera felt welcomed, truly welcomed back. She’d have to wait a bit before she felt like she could face Ardbert and discuss their positions. Estinien would be next, and she intended to share the same memories, she intended for each person that questions her to be shown why they should never have tampered in realms they’re not meant to set foot in.

For now she is contented with both girls, seeking refuge in the manor after clearing it from spirits and monsters to get away for a bit. 

[atlasursa]

Rumnaheim Beginnings.

“All wait.”

“For the light.

“You fear.”

“Do not be afraid.”

“The sun shines out of my eyes.” 

“It will not go down tonight.” 

Hailing from Rockcliff the Rumnaheim family is known for providing the best Dwarven fighters, warriors, and sell swords in the Stormlands. Granted, they are provided by the children themselves. Far from Nobility, the Rumnaheims fought proudly for everything they have claim to. Orsik, their father, no longer fights but has made another name for himself in blacksmithing good enough to be considered art amongst Dwarves. Not that a name for himself needed to be made, his mother having carried him full term into battle and given birth to him in a thunderstorm above ground was enough to make the old Dwarf’s name procede him. 

When his eldest daughter, Torbera, named after his mother, came of age she quickly outgrew the training available to her and her family at Rockcliff.  She showed promise and character and with the connections her parents had with the higher clans and the weight of their family name, Torbera was sent to Domum to train under Lady Asella’s troops and grew into becoming not only a strong fighter, but a strong friend to Lady Asella. 

When she wasn’t training, competing, or pushing herself to the limit, Torbera spent her time with the members of house Tomu, successfully indeed gaining more honor for her family. 

Catching the eye of many of the Captains and Generals because of her family name, they continued to push her harder and she continued to proudly train and succeed under the most elite. But the only thing that caught her eye was the flash of steel and iron in the training arenas. All she knew was the fight, and it was all she wanted. That was until she saw Captain Kildrak Fireforge and his crew for the first time. She had heard the rumors before. The dwarf that dared to sail and tame the tempest seas of the Stormlands. They said he was struck by lightning so many times that his hair was forever ablaze with the fire that fueled his courage. The same courage that bolted him head first into winning so many battles and coating his ship with the blood of his enemies. The ocean was so scared of him that whenever he went into it, it spat him back out, not allowing him to drowned and that his hammer itself was forged in the his family’s fires that were a gift from the god’s themselves. One of the original forges from the original clans, (or so it is said).  His smile was wide and bright whether he was in mid fight, feasting, or laughing. Even in his fury, the Dwarf smiled like he knew something from the gods that no one else knew.  And his laugh! The thunder itself couldn’t compare to his laugh that seemed to emanate from his belly no matter the situation. But hearing the stories, and seeing the Dwarf himself in the flesh were two completely different things. 

Torbera fell hard, and she fell fast when she was sent with a team of trusted fighters to receive Fireforge and his crew from the shore and bring them safely to House Tomu. Immediately, the two sized each other up. The sea worn captain, soaked head to foot, grinning like a mad fool as he tried to decide if he was impressed or offended by the short Dwarven lady that was to lead his escort. And the Rumnaheim fighter unable to keep her own smile from spreading in return as she tried to decide if he was really a Dwarf, or a fish.  On the journey home, Torbera and Kildrak grew fond of eachother. He was everything rumored and so much more, and she was something he had never witnessed before.

By the time they returned to Domum, it was no secret that they belonged to each other. There was no wedding, no courtship braids or jewels of promise. When they were together, they didn’t need any of the ceremonies for they created a world for themselves.

He was her Seastorm and she, his Battleaxe. “Wouldn’t be trustin’ no other woman to keep me arse from gettin’ in trouble on solid land.” “No other woman would want to come near your ass. You smell like fish.” He would grab her and laugh, Torbera never able to keep her own laughter from joining him as they wrestled against each other in jest sparring. “Not without yer proper coin!.... Mind loanin’ me some?” His cheekiness only stoking her flames and making her fight harder. 

Torbera loved the salt stains on all of his leather and the tales of adventure he’d tell her to lull her to sleep when they were in bed together. The feeling of his heavy hands in her hair the only safe thing in this world she trusted more than her own weapons.

But Kildrak wasn’t ready to give up the sea, nor did Torbera want him to. And Torbera wasn’t ready to give up the fight, nor did Kildrak want her to. So for years, they went on with their lives, excelling in what they were destined for. And every year he would come ashore, Torbera would be the leader of the team that brought him home for as long as he could stay.

When horror struck and whispers of war entered the houses, it was a given that Torbera would be on the front lines, fighting for her country, her clan, her family, and her friend. As would all of the Rumnaheim’s. What she didn’t expect, was that her lover would be the captain of the first ship to carry the first siege across the coast and to Trinity. It made sense. He was a legend, and it would take only the best for the Dwarves to be successful. Among the first of the sieges, Torbera fought valiantly and without hesitation with Kildrak at her side as the Dwarves invaded Trinity and slaughtered the unprepared town. Revenge, anger, honor, duty, and so many more things coursed through her veins making her blind to the horrors of that night until it was far too late. 

Towards the end of that night’s battle, they were clearing the last of the small shoreline houses as the rest went inward. A human male came around the corner yelling, seizing Torbera’s attention as she brought him down before another cry startled her and her reflexes acted before she could stop herself, throwing her axe into a human child. And that was how Kildrak found her at the end of the siege. On her knees in tears, hammer on the floor, and staring at the dead child pinned to the wall by her axe, his axe, the one he had given her in love. 

“Comeon’. Get up.” 

“I didn’t… I didn’t see…. ”

“Ya...I know… but you gotta get up.” 

When she didn’t move, didn’t respond, Kildrak forcibly removed the axe from the human child’s chest, causing Torbera to flinch as she heard the thud rather than saw it. Kneeling in front of her, Kildrak put her weapons back in her hands. 

“No time fer this now mah gem.” 

Hauling Torbera to her feet, Kildrak took hold of her shoulders though her gaze stayed on the child’s dead body.

“You fear.” A few seconds passed and when she didn’t respond, he shook her violently and raised his voice. 

“Dammit Bera! YOU FEAR!” 

Snapping out of it, Torbera stumbled to find the words she knew by heart. 

“Do not.. Do not be afra… afraid.” “The sun, be shinin’ out of mah eyes mah battleaxe… you hear me?” 

Nodding, Torbera looked up at the already smiling Dwarf in front of her, the concern not hidden from his expression. “It will not go down tonight.” 

Kissing her forehead, Kildrak nodded in confirmation. 

“Nor the next, or the one after that ya hear meh? That’s a good lass. now let’s go.”

Days, weeks, then months passed. The war was still fresh in every dwarf’s mind, but Torbera struggled more than she was willing to admit or let on.  She had fought on, continued to strike down those who came in her path in the name of her family’s honor, never giving up the battle despite her nights were now plagued with nightmares and screams of children, their blood on her weapons. But Kildrak was always there to wake her, to help her calm down, even in the worst of it. When it was over, there were feasts in the stormlands to honor those that had fallen, their own family had another celebration festival in honor of their name at Rockcliff, and Kildrak didn’t go back to sea for a long time.  No one at home would think Torbera had changed. But it was in the small things. The way she didn’t smile at the retelling of war stories. The way she hesitated to give her last name lest she be celebrated and congratulated in the honor of the deeds she had done in war. Ashamed of her own family name. Ashamed at her inability to move on as everyone else did, she lived a fake life, of fake honor. Taking compliments on the outside, but dying each time on the inside.

Years passed, Kildrak finally set sail again. He never stayed away very long at first, but eventually, they found a sort of comfort in old habits and rhythms. 

And though she learned to cope, trying to remember that innocents always died in war, that it wasn’t her fault, Torbera was never truly at peace. 

It was of great help that Kildrak was there, to know what she experienced, but it was of great terror that in her worst memories, it was also Kildrak who was there with her. She found comfort in Kildrak on the same nights she couldn’t even look at his face. “Marry meh.” Caught off guard and yanked harshly from a sleep by those words, Torbera looked to Kildrak in disbelief. 

“Ya heard meh. I’ll put yer hair in one of dem perty courtin’ braids and we’ll have the biggest feast anybody’s ever heard of. I’ll marry ya in front of everyone and make ya a true Fireforge.” 

Tobera’s heart pounded in fear, in love, in pure shock. 

“You leave tomorrow morning Drak. You know once I get started, I don’t stop. I’m not waiting a year to get back into your britches.” She tried to pass off her rejection as a joke. They both knew she loved him. But that was the problem. She really did love him. And she knew him. 

And her Seastorm would only offer such a thing because yes, he loved her, but because he was worried about her. Had she hidden her failure at keeping herself together so poorly from him? That he would offer something so drastic… something she knew was not who he was. 

He took her face in his calloused hands and forced her to look at him. But his expression wasn’t one of love-sick courtship or even fear of rejection. It was that of a concerned loved-one when they looked down at a sick family member. “Marry meh ‘Bera”

And that was it. The moment Torbera realized she would never belong in the Stormlands until she could find her own redemption. 

“Alright…. When you come back. You can braid my hair and we’ll stand before the gods, and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” 

Kissing her forehead again, they both chuckled, but neither of them said anything as Kildrak pulled an iron ring from his own tangled mess of curls and braided it into her hair. The heaviness betraying both of their true feelings as they faded into sleep. 

In the morning when he left, she had to wonder if he knew… if he realized that would be the last time she would see him. 

It took her a few weeks after his departure that she was able to ready herself, ‘Venturing forth to bring her family even more honor in the form of adventure and heroism.’ But leave, she did and when she did, there was a celebration, and festivities to be had as always with her clan. Even as she traveled out of the stormlands and towards the white light district, it took a while before she stopped hearing her own family name when she entered a tavern or an Inn. 

But Kildrak would hear no word of such news until a year later when he stepped foot back on the Stormlands, his battleaxe nowhere to be seen. Nor the year after that, or any of the years to come. The shoreline as empty as her promise was to marry him and as free as she had now made him. 

[cielleduciel]

okay okay, Black Eagles/Crimson Flower. this is very long and very rambly bc i was mad and i probably repeat myself a lot but whatever

keep in mind going forward that this was my FE3H first route and the only one i've played so far, and it was... disappointing. i really, really want to like Edelgard as a character bc she seems interesting and she has so much potential, but fact is the game never allows her any sort of true depth, and never lets you interact with her in any meaningful way

and i hate to say it bc i ALWAYS go to bat for complex underappreciated female characters, which is what i was expecting out of this, but that's not... even what she is. none of her potential is ever realized. she's one-note and static and the writers seem to think that just throwing in a traumatic backstory (that never gets explored, even as it very obviously relates directly to her worldview) and a few cute/quirky character moments will give her depth, but it doesn't

the game really LOVES to try and play up this special bond between Edelgard and Byleth and how much Byleth means to her, but it never feels earned. she always says that she feels like she can tell Byleth anything and everything, but she doesn't. i have no better understanding about why she felt like she needed to do the things she did than i did at the end of part 1. all she ever says is that she has to do it all in the name of her ideals and a better future and it's the only way, and all i ever wanted throughout the entire route was to ask WHY ? WHY is this the only way ? WHY do you feel like this is the only thing you can do ? WHY are all other options off the table ?

she's cooperating directly with Those Who Slither In The Dark (TWSITD), who not only experimented on and tortured Edelgard herself and killed her siblings, but also killed Byleth's father, but we never explore the implications of that. hell, Edelgard's issues aside, Byleth themself has their own stake in this, their own very good reasons to question Edelgard and the lengths she's willing to go to in order to achieve this future of hers, but they're NEVER given the chance. if you choose her route, the game apparently assumes that you've decided to follow her without question or reserve, regardless of everything that happened, even though it makes no sense in context. at the end of the route, Edelgard even admits that she couldn't understand why Byleth wound up taking her side, and i wanted to SCREAM !!! LIKE YEAH, I DON'T UNDERSTAND IT EITHER ??? i was HOPING we would get to explore that at some point but I GUESS NOT ????

at most, Edelgard offers platitudes by saying that she too hates TWSITD and regrets everything they've done but still maintains that her alliance with them is necessary for the time being, because they are the best allies she has against the church, and she needs their strength. again, my question is: WHY ? because while i can see how they may have been useful to her in part 1, i didn't see them do ANYTHING to help her during the entirety of part 2. they had literally zero presence in any of the battles, were not even shown or mentioned aside from the moments where they were being CLEARLY ANTAGONISTIC towards her, like when they NUKED ARIANRHOD AS A "WARNING" as soon as Edelgard captured the city bc they were mad she killed one of their officers,

and yet she felt like she needed to spin the story to say it was the church's doing so as to like, save face and rally morale while maintaining their alliance, i guess, but why ?** even in the FINAL BATTLE AGAINST RHEA HERSELF, Arundel shows up ONLY to literally say "yeah i'm just here to watch lmao". so like, as far as i know from everything i have physically seen, we defeated the church without their help at all--in SPITE of their "help", even--which does not help me understand why her alliance with TWSITD is so necessary that Edelgard has to just grit her teeth, bear it, and cover for them until the war is over so that she can finally turn on them

(**i get not telling the entire army about Arianrhod to avoid panic and questions, but what was the point of lying to the rest of the Black Eagles ? why is it that Byleth, Edelgard, and Hubert seem to be the only ones allowed to know about the empire's workings with TWSITD ? like what was even the point of Edelgard revealing herself as the Flame Emperor at the end of part 1 ((which was also a totally botched scene but i'm not even gonna get into that here))? i thought the reason for that scene WAS to reveal the truth to everyone that she was working with TWSITD, we even had that whole dramatic battle where Edelgard had to fight her own house and professor bc of it ? but i guess it wasn't, bc none of them ever bring it up again, and the game still treats it like they should all still be in the dark about it, so ???)

on top of that, i still don't understand why she felt like she needed to antagonize the Alliance, or even the Kingdom, when her enemy is the church. like i get it, there’s no negotiating with the church as it is, violent conflict with them is inevitable and i’m not against that, i understand it and i can get behind it. but why didn't she ever try talking to the other two factions or working together w them or FORGING ALLIANCES instead of resorting immediately to violence ?** maybe i can believe that Dimitri and the Kingdom are a lost cause, but for example--and again now i haven't played the GD route, but from what i understand-- Claude's values are fairly similar to Edelgard's, and he does a lot of digging into the church on his own and is able to discover much of the truth. her alliance with TWSITD is apparently "necessary" but it never occurs to her to reach out to GOOD PEOPLE like Claude who would share her interests ? why ? why can’t we even bring it up ?

(**my confusion with this is best summed up by that one interaction she has with Dimitri in part 2, where before they're about to fight, he asks her, "Must you continue to conquer? Continue to kill?" and her response is literally, "Must you continue to reconquer? Continue to kill in retaliation?" like WHAT ? WHAT KIND OF CHILDISH "NO U" NONSENSE IS THAT ? YOU'RE LITERALLY THE AGGRESSOR HERE, ARE YOU REALLY TRYING TO TELL HIM HE SHOULD'VE JUST SAT BACK AND LET YOU TAKE THE KINGDOM WITHOUT EXPLAINING ANYTHING ? HE'S TRYING TO REACH OUT TO YOU, WHY DO YOU ALWAYS REFUSE TO GIVE HIM A STRAIGHT ANSWER. WHY ARE YOU BEING SO OBTUSE ABOUT THIS. WHAT IS THE REASON)

this isn't even getting into the fact that it becomes very obvious that Edelgard does not have the whole story behind the church and TWSITD, but there's no way to call that into question either. from what i understand from a few spoilers i've been given, she even gets some parts of the story flat-out wrong. this is The Story that she uses to justify all her actions, to herself and to others, and yet she's clearly missing key details, but we never get to question it, or investigate it further, or do anything about it

and what makes it suck extra is that, as i said, i really wanted so, so badly to love Edelgard. i wanted that bond between her and Byleth to feel real, and earned, and substantial. i wanted to work together and interact with her, to  understand her, bc i genuinely sympathize with her goals. let’s erase inequality, abolish the nobility, destroy the crest system that sustains it, and tear down an oppressively intolerant religious institution ? hell yes sign me up bitch !!!! i don't like that we can't GUIDE her in her pursuit of that, or at least even try to understand why she's so committed to this horrific warpath she's on. bc why else would i have chosen to join her side and play her route ? why else is Byleth there, as her teacher ?

or maybe i'm not even supposed to sympathize with her or her cause, but they never make that point either ! like let's ignore what i want and entertain the notion that perhaps Edelgard's meant to be seen as clearly, dangerously radical and beyond all reason, that her route is supposed to be as close to a "bad" route as this game gets and you're supposed to feel guilty for helping her. i mean there definitely are points that made me go “uh, hey, what we’re doing here is kind of terrible”. the thing is they could've easily made that point at any time during her route, had moments where they highlighted the destruction left in Edelgard's wake as she "carves a bloody path" to her future with Byleth by her side, had her experience some kind of consequence for her actions or a "falling from grace" moment, exposed all the flawed logic behind her actions and examined how she came to be the way she is--but nothing like that ever happens. it’s just like “hooray we successfully invaded and conquered an independent nation :) on to the next one !” even in the epilogue, there's no downside to helping her win, no sort of realistic consequence like, idk, malcontent spreads, people aren’t happy that Edelgard took over their nation by force despite the reforms, riots flare up, etc etc., nothing that asks the player to stop and think about all this. they play everything straight but then refuse to give it meaning or make sense of any of it

and there's PLENTY of ways to make sense of it. even i can imagine some potential in-universe explanations to a lot of the "why" questions i have about Edelgard--why does she preemptively isolate herself from everyone that hasn't already demonstrated unconditional allegiance to her, why does she refuse to seek other allies or reach out to her peers like Dimitri or Claude for help and yet continue to associate with the dangerous group that is the source of her trauma, why does she rightly question one narrative while she never thinks to question the other, why does she resort to violence so quickly and easily even as she laments it, etc etc. the problem is that *the game itself* doesn't even THINK to try and address any of this, and so it's never able to make a point about any of it

so yeah, the point COULD'VE BEEN that she is too stubborn, too far gone, too caught up in her own narrative to comprehend that her actions are not as necessary as she thinks they are, too self-righteous to see the parallels between herself and Rhea as she needlessly sacrifices countless lives for her cause while she claims that HER life is too important to lose, too stuck in her own head to see the hypocrisy in her denouncement of the nobility and church and their treatment of the masses while SHE, Miss Imperial Royalty herself, throws others' lives away for her war--BUT the point is never made !! there's no statement from that point of view either ! there is literally no message ! Edelgard goes through no character development, positive or negative, despite all the groundwork for it being laid out plainly. she does not get a chance to grow, nor does she ever regress, nor is she ever faced with the consequences of her actions, and so no statement is ever made about her character or anything she represents

all the potential was there for Crimson Flower to have been a really good story, and that's why i'm so frustrated that i'm writing an essay about it. and it didn't HAVE to be a positive one with a happy ending, or even a mixed, bittersweet one, which i think would've been best. it easily could've been a tragic story about like, Byleth witnessing the fall of their misguided student firsthand as they try and fail to reach out to her, powerless to save her from herself as she drifts away from everybody, being forced into a position where her death becomes necessary in order to preserve the lives of others, or something--but it didn't try to do anything like that. it didn't try to do ANYTHING ! in fact, i would say her character is much more compelling in all the other routes where she DIES, if only bc at least then it feels like SOMETHING is being said about her character

the real kicker is that, at the end of Crimson Flower, it's said that Edelgard goes on to abolish the nobility, and yet in the epilogue she remains the emperor, and all your other units of noble birth still...... have noble titles and landholdings. not to mention i can't even be sure if the scene where Byleth's crest disappears is supposed to represent the disappearance of all crests, or just Byleth's ? so like i don't actually know what i'm supposed to think Edelgard accomplished ? what was the point of mindlessly helping her commit war crimes ? if not a character arc, or a plot resolution, or some greater message, or even the world state i was promised to get from siding with her, what exactly am i supposed to get out of this route ???

i keep thinking about how it feels in contrast to her progression in every other route, and to how Dimitri is written. bc when Byleth joins anyone else, Edelgard always dies, as Dimitri does. but unlike with Dimitri, intsys didn't adapt Edelgard's progression to Byleth's presence, beyond the simple facts of whether she wins/loses and lives/dies. what i’ve gathered from the other routes is that they portray her as a senselessly violent, incomprehensible, self-righteous kid with too much power who became consumed by it and then dies/is killed as a natural consequence of her own actions. i was expecting the difference in her route to be that we get to explore her side more and understand her inner workings and what could have led her down this path, and then to either get the chance to make a difference, or to be dragged down with her as a cautionary tale. but she STILL comes across as senselessly violent, incomprehensible, self-righteous and power-trippy, except now i get to enable her, and that’s presented as like, a genuinely wholesome thing ?

my gf has said that it feels like you're not meant to side with Edelgard, just from how poorly written and constructed her entire route is**, and i've been getting the same feeling. having finished it, the whole thing felt hollow. her actions and choices always feel absurd and frustrating because we never get any insight into what she's thinking, there's too much Telling and not enough Showing to back up any of the Telling, there are so many aspects of the route that don't make sense, and there's no ATTEMPT to make them make sense

(**seriously the production value felt so low at times that it got embarrassing to watch. like after part 1, Jeritza just dropped off the face of the planet with no explanation, and no one in the game ever brought him up again or even wondered where he was, not even Edelgard. then the recent game update suddenly added him to my roster right before i was about to finish the route, again with no explanation, and no in-game acknowledgement of this. which can only lead me to believe that Jeritza was actually SUPPOSED to be there the whole time but intsys.... forgot about him ? LIKE... THEY FORGOT TO WRITE THE DEATH KNIGHT INTO EDELGARD'S ROUTE ? WHAT)

in fact, it feels to me a lot like death was always the intended resolution for her character and everything was always written around that, but then they decided that wasn't an appropriate tone/direction to take for a route in which Byleth joins her, but then they weren't even bothered to really revise the route in any meaningful way so they just went "fuck it" and gave us.... whatever this mess is. but if so, if intsys really was so set on having her be this tragic misguided villain, i don't understand why they didn't commit to that narrative in her route as well, instead of just half-assing everything and doing nothing meaningful and wasting my time. hell i don't understand why they even bothered to include an Edelgard route if their hearts clearly weren't in it to begin with. just let her be the villain that you guys obviously wanted her to be and go

but, whatever. at least all the OTHER Black Eagle characters were great

[rocketwerks]

Phoenix Foundry

9 North Eighth Street

Built, after 1865

Demolished, between 1924-1950

(Ancestry) — looking towards 9 North Eighth Street, date unknown

William B. Cook: competitor to Asa Snyder, and no shallow man he.

(Library of Congress) — Beers Illustrated Atlas of the Cities of Richmond & Manchester, 1877 — Plate K — showing foundry location

It is only your shallow man who believes in luck-who limits his faith to the ruling of a star or the casting of a planet. The laws of gravity, of chemistry, of botany, and the other natural laws, are not more fixed and certain in their operation than those who push their way up the plane of social and rational life, and there develop their influence in the struggle which every man makes in life, from the boy's game of play up to the crowning act of individual achievement in work. The sublime faith that believes in the stars-that looks up and out upon the deep-vaulted night, and tries hard to formulate a faith that all men can accept and rationally founded-may be admired by us for the grandeur and vastness of the problems it seeks to solve;

[HILL] — advertisement in Hill's Richmond City Directory, 1874-75

but a little reason, not too shallow or superficial in quality, will soon bring us back to the more rational basis of cause and effect, the same arithmetic of which may be accurately computed as the threads of an even web. Law is the basis of everything, and although it works by invisible hands and feet, it treads steadily in one path, and brings out the uniform result. The lucky man is the one who perceives  the chance of success, and seizes it at the right moment to make the success his own. He may be thwarted time and time again by adverse or unforeseen contingencies, such as no proper forecast, can effectually guard against; but a resolute faith in cause and effect in the industrial dogma that something comes from something and nothing comes from nothing, will bring him out successfully in the end.

(Ancestry) — William Bennett & Jane Bath Cook on their wedding day, October 10, 1850

The owner of the Phoenix Foundry, Mr. William B. Cook, is a happy exemplification of the correctness of these reflections. He is a hard worker, and has had some hard rubs with "Adverse and unforeseen contingencies." He has been burnt out no less than three times in twenty-five years, but by dint of perseverance and the best of all personal qualities--pluck--he has risen each time, if not Phoenix-like, from the ashes of a previous establishment, yet like a resolute and determined man, who, when one chance fails him, is ready, nothing daunted, to strike for another.

(Library of Congress) — Sanborn Fire Insurance Map from Richmond (1886) — Plate 15 — showing former foundry building now a livery

With him, work is victory. He takes no chances at luck, and consequently draws no blanks. Each blast of the forge, and each blow of the hammer, is what he has faith in, and leaves the rest to fortune. There are larger and more imposing establishments in Richmond, but his political economy is not to cut the throat of their competition, but to establish his own. No man is prouder of the prosperity of Richmond, arising from the other and larger establishments, than the energetic and public-spirited owner of the Phoenix Works. He seeks to share only in the general prosperity, and demands patronage only as he may show himself worthy of it.

[CHAT] — advertisement for Phoenix Foundry in Chataigne's Directory of Richmond, 1881

The Phoenix Foundry is on the east side of eighth street, between Franklin and Main. Prior to November, 1871, it was run by Messrs. Cook & Viles, but since that time Mr. Cook has been the sole proprietor. He employs a large force and turns out a large variety of general castings, besides manufacturing iron railings, balconies, verandahs, columns, caps, sills, vault doors and frames, and all kinds of iron work for buildings. In fact, about everything this side of the line of Architectural iron work is successfully turned out in his establishment.

July 2015 — showing three-tiered verandah of the Stephen Putney House, cast by Phoenix Foundry [CAW]

His building is a large three-story brick, on Eighth above Main, with the foundry in the rear of it, and two stories above for machinery, woodwork, and pattern loft. He has recently completed and put up the large and comodious burglar & fireproof safe vault, in the new banking house of Messrs. Issacs, Taylor and Williams, on the corner of Thirteenth & Main Streets, which is said to be the largest safe ever manufactured south of "Mason and Dixon's line." Whether this be so or not, it is certainly large enough to satisfy and one that what our home institutions cannot do in the way of manufacturing mammoth safes, need not be sought for elsewhere.

(Library of Congress) — Sanborn Fire Insurance Map from Richmond (1905) — Plate 10  — showing former foundry building to become a News-Leader Printing site

Mr. Cook is also constructing iron fronts for buildings, and doing not a little to the architectural taste and beauty of our city. The iron work for St. Mark's Church (Episcopal) is from his establishment, as well as numerous verandahs, balconies, railings, etc., of iron, put up during the past two or three years in different parts of the city. The iron work to the new office building of the Gas Works at Rocketts, with fine iron verandah and steps, was furnished by Mr. Cook. He has lately filled orders for Norfolk, for points in North and South Carolina, and other parts of the South, and he is confident he can compete, in quality and style of work, as well as in price, with any similar establishment in this or any other city.

(ProQuest® Sanborn Maps Geo Edition™) — Sanborn Insurance Maps of Richmond (1924) — Plate 10 — showing former foundry building now vacant

Mr. Cook has had an experience of twenty-five years and upwards at the business in which he is now engaged. Born in an adjoining county, and coming to Richmond when he was a mere boy, he has spent his apprenticeship and whole business among us. He has had, as we have before intimated, some pretty severe rebuffs of fortune; but he has come out every time with a resolution to strike ten blows for success where he had only struck five before.

(ProQuest® Sanborn Maps Geo Edition™) — Sanborn Insurance Maps of Richmond (1950) — Plate 10 — showing former foundry building now an auto parking lot

Starting first as a partner of Barnes & Co., he was afterwards of the company of Lownes & Cook, then of Cook & Viles, and now has the Phoenix Foundry as his own-- a foundry appropriately named from the circumstances already referred to, that on three several occasions he has seen his different establishments reduced to ashes.

Such business energy and capacity as he has shown, and such faith in his work as the means of ultimate triumph, entitled him to a liberal if not generous share of public patronage. [GILL]

April 2020 — looking towards the former location of 9 North Eighth Street

The growth of the Main Street canyon — the stretch of high-rises that today runs between Twelfth and Sixth Streets — and the proximity of the former iron works to it, did not bode well for its future. Some time after 1924 it was demolished and became a parking lot, a condition that probably lasted until the building that is now 8th & Main Apartments was constructed in 1968. 

That’s a lot of changes for one location: foundry, livery, print shop, parking lot, office building, plus whatever else it was before the Evacuation Fire.

(Phoenix Foundry is part of the Atlas RVA! Project)

Print Sources

[CAW] Cast and Wrought. Robert P. Withrop. 1980.

[CHAT] Chataigne's Directory of Richmond, VA. 1881.

[GILL] Richmond Directory 1873-74. R. W. Gillis.

[HILL] Hill's Richmond City Directory (Chesterfield and Henrico Counties, Va.), 1874-75.

[drakonics]

<DIR> // HC DUMP: GENERIC.

/under the cut for potentially disturbing/mature mentions. you’ve been warned.

<o1> contrary to annoyingly popular and recurring belief  seto is/was the furthest thing from spoiled given his seemingly polished upbringing and generally standoffish person as a whole. after a watered down past at the orphanage his new life he intended to give mokuba was the very furthest from anything he ever wanted. everything and anything gozaburo ever ��gave’ him was double edged and even though seto could truly have cared less about the abusive fool inflicting on him he broke his stubborn streak when the bastard truly surpassed all unthinkable lows and began using mokuba as leverage to ensure seto did whatever he wanted. that being said any accomplishments made by seto are strictly his own. he has built his own network of success from the very ground up fully eliminating any and all traces of his ‘father’ over the years ensuring kaiba corporation became something all his own without the stain of adoptive ties to reflect on the company when mokuba someday succeeds him.

<o2> despite being unable to recall the exact events leading up to the untimely deaths of his real parents seto suffers from vivid recurring dreams/chronic nightmares centering around the scattered cause. born to a japanese father and a mother with egyptian roots dating as far back as the ancient days, the two met during an expedition in giza where seto’s father was conducting research on the first pyramids and his mother doubled as a tour guide at the time and was later revealed ( due to extensive research conducted by seto himself ) to be the successor of ancient tomb guardians with blood of the medjay hailing from the old kingdom. fittingly enough seto inherited her striking blue eyes and sinfully soft brown hair with his father’s more stern personality as an opposing trait, whereas mokuba took after their father in terms of looks but maintained their mother’s immovably caring personality. the kaiba brother’s pendants although made by mokuba also contain a second digitally reconstructed and salvaged image of their deceased parents, courtesy of seto’s personal additions alongside the intricate self destruct mechanism integrated in conjunction to the duel tower.

<o3> for all of his top of the line prowess and upkeep with personal/public appearance the greatly esteemed president of kaiba corporation is in fact not in the prime of health. the true meaning of rest is simply lost him and not an option given he is expected to be anywhere at any time whenever the occasion calls for it day or night. seto wages around 3-5 hours of sleep within a 24 period and never manages them consecutively resulting in consistent sleep depravation, chronic insomnia and bouts of sickness. in effort to counter balance the tolls taken on his health seto maintains a strict self-training regimen, a particular diet and coffee in dangerous dependability. when confronted about his overall decline of health seto merely states he will sleep when he is dead and the path he shapes known as his life will never stop regardless if he sleeps or not.

<o4> courtesy of kaiba corporation and his personal profits, seto has officially deemed a select percent of his entire generated revenue in donations to orphanages worldwide. to better the future and generations to come seto believes giving children like him and mokuba a chance to reclaim and successfully live their lives will make the most lasting impact. depending on their schooling success kaiba corporation also offers free admission to the duel academy upon graduating base grade school or fully paid tuition up front for college. as per seto’s endless pursuits in bettering his own technological finesse continue to evolve he is constantly adjusting the prices of all other kaiba related entertainment: kaiba land officially has multiple locations set up worldwide which operate strictly on their own real time via the intricate crystal cloud network. a handful of nature reserves are also in continued production as well as personal cruise lines that offer travel to and from all forms of attraction or personal getaways. all parks and attractions are operated at significantly cut costs to make them more easily accessible and affordable to the people with mandatory pre-release periods, however mainly focal on children in general.

<o5> it is excruciatingly important to note that a bout of sudden ‘kindness’ from seto is hardly true kindness at all up front if at all strictly due to him believing ( and being forcibly taught by ) that kindness is an immediate show of weakness. at many points seto was beaten by gozaboru whenever he cried due to the afflictions gozaboru made on mokuba. as such was just proclaimed another weakness gozaboru refused in a heir, seto grew to resent tears and emotions as a whole, effectively crushing his own as a detrimental drawback. lack of proper upbringing paired with a stunt in social growth since childhood effectively cut him off from normal development one would have according to generation and therefore seto suffers from severe social impairment and is unable to make emotional connections. many defining factors of his tyrannical business front and hellbent on remaining top-of-the-world persona were injected by gozaboru himself and forcibly imprinted ( to the point of both physical and mental ) abuse that carried into and ultimately tarnished his adulthood. seto has been put through more forced consumation attempts than he cares to count in one lifetime, compliments of gozaboru wishing to extend his own corporate clutches and influence via other rich or corporate owned families worldwide. attempts that have scarred seto to such a degree he is wary of women in general and utilizes sex in itself as a power play and tool and inherited gozaboru’s manipulation in the form of trauma ( as if unwanted sexual occurrences and attempted assassination efforts were not enough. ) adding to his already fiercely independent and withdrawn personality, seto firmly believes others will never simply approach him but that they all have an underlying motive and purely intend to use him because of his position, wealth and grand success; a defining paranoia that has sadly been proven time and again throughout the course of his arranged future successes which only further contributed to his inability and overall unwillingness to trust, forging the cold settlement that most if not everyone is out to hurt him so he fully intends to shut them down and hurt them first.  while even but a fraction of his trust is ten times hard earned and rarely given, seto is loyal to a fault and would staunchly go to the very ends of this world and the next if it means protecting anything ( or anyone ) he cares about.

<o6> although official records state seto dropped out of high school by choice, gozaboru withdrew his son seeing his intellect was years beyond what modern day education was capable of on the falsified notion that seto himself was above normal schooling and destined for much greater. in reality, gozaboru already knew seto surpassed him in every way possible and despite having groomed him as the perfect heir to someday succeed him, implemented a planned attempt to murder his own son in fear of losing his company and having everything taken from him. gozaboru attempted a number of recurring set ups in attempt to separate mokuba from his older brother and kill him off long before deciding seto was a liability, attempts that Seto was not only fully aware of in entirety but also planning a counter measure in turn. while it is known seto effectively manipulated the big five against gozaboru in conjunction with his inhumane treatment towards his own subordinates, official records state gozaboru was driven to suicide and took his own life by jumping out of the window of kaiba corporation’s presidential office on the top floor. the unpublished truth remains undiscovered to this day: seto turned gozaboru’s own murderous machinations against him and killed the man himself solely based on the belief that he was merely giving back everything that bastard ever gave him and his little brother.  thanks for nothing, gozaburo.

<o7> officially unreleased to the public and deemed solely for his own personal use, seto’s next generation of neurons links him to an encrypted network constructed with any and all depictions of ancient egyptian lore he has personally salvaged in effort to hopefully someday fully piece together the ongoing mysteries shrouding his past life and any ongoing connection he clearly has to the departed pharaoh. utilizing the original state of the art bleeding technology seto has successfully constructed a subconscious research vein dubbed the STEM, allowing it not only to connect with and create images solely based on the user’s brainwave activity but fully reconstruct scenarios based on their dreams and fleeting visions. In its final stages the STEM places the user in a catatonic state by integrating itself directly into their central nervous system and works in perfect conjunction with the nervous system to provide real time feedback, lifelike sensations and produce results generated directly from either. by diving his subconscious, seto has been able to place himself at the heart of many scattered memories pertaining to his past, effectively allowing him to ‘re live’ or experience certain occurrences as his past self, courtesy of obtaining DNA sequences in unorthodox means. ground breaking as it is the STEM is it hardly comes without its immediate faults and dangers as it forcibly dives into genetic memory and imprints at an alarming and often much too realistic rate. as the centered drawback of reproducing a near immaculate 3D world and structure at will, due to the overall strain placed on the user’s body their vitals are continually monitored and the system is set to cease immediate operations should they fall beneath the natural threshold of safety. 

<o8> prolonged use of the STEM has adverse and potentially life threatening side effects, one such that seto has deemed the ‘bleeding edge effect’ where the user will experience severe bouts of hallucinations caused by the user’s past life memories ‘bleeding’ into the present and can cause permanent mental disorientation or push the user to insanity if proper rest between sequences and extended safety protocol is not met during use and after. unbeknownst to seto himself by linking to his ancestor and diving his subconscious to the egyptian afterlife he has unwillingly attached the soul of his past incarnation to himself, effectively transcending the plane of digital space and dimensions alike. by utilizing this alongside his breakthrough with the quantum cube, seto has ultimately forced his own soul and that of his priest side to exist as one in present day.

[hyliancourage]

VERSE DETAILS POST :  THE FIERCE DEITY

please note: this verse is mainly self interpretation, based off of what we know about the fierce deity from majora’s mask and the manga! it’s also mixed with information of the ancient ones and the interlopers as mentioned in MM and TP. since there is very little known about the fierce deity, most of his backstory will be my own portrayal and imagining of him. 🤗

BASICS

name: unknown

age: unknown, easily over 10 millennia old

race: an unknown form of a god, but appears to be Hylian

birthplace: not of this earth

status: spirit, trapped in a mask

height: 6′7″

build: MUSCULAR he is beefcake city 💪

appearance: white hair that reaches his lower back, pale blue eyes. after death and being sealed into the mask, his eyes are completely white and glow.

ABILITIES / WEAPONS

double helix sword: a two handed greatsword with incredible power, strong enough to cut air. able to fire magic-powered blasts shaped like buzzsaws, as well as sword beams.

drums of time: when played, they are able to stop, speed up, or reverse time. can be narrowed down to a single area as well to work on a single target (as seen in the manga).

self-healing: regenerates health and heals wounds over time.

enhanced durability: most attacks do little to no damage on him. magical attacks with great strength need to be backed by power from another deity, god, or goddess to really harm him.

three stone necklace: three blue stones filled with the captured essence of powerful creatures from beyond, whose powers grant high magical resistance

PERSONALITY

lawful neutral: he takes a middle ground between good and evil. this causes problems with cosmos as time goes on and he goes against their rules to follow his own, as he sees fit to intervene whenever he feels that balance and justice is unfairly shifted or maliciously disrupted.

cunning / sneaky: it’s easy for him to play a role, to act innocent and unassuming when he wants (as seen in mm manga), in order to get the answers or results that he’s looking for. however, this is only ever when in search of those answers or a goal. when he doesn’t have to play a role to get answers or restore balance, fierce deity is incredibly honest, as he sees no reason to lie.

bold / brave: he shows very little sense of fear, and is able to remain calm even in the face of danger. 

calculating

strong sense of justice

fierce deity, in the beginning, was very warm to people. he was kind and welcoming, especially towards friends and family. he cared very much for people and their well being. as time went on however, and as he became more fierce deity than human, he became more aloof and cold. he isn’t mean or rude or malicious towards people, but he can be rather dismissive. it’s only when someone catches his eye or interests him, or if they can help him carry out his plan and sense of justice that he talks to someone. 

he doesn’t harm innocents either. he can be intimidating with his silence, stature and power, but he has no interest in hurting people, and is in fact vehemently against it. part of his humanity remains still in the sense that he does care whether people get hurt or not, and will stop it. 

HISTORY

fierce deity is a godlike creature originating from beyond hyrule, beyond termina, and beyond the three goddesses. he knows of the goddesses din, nayru, and farore, but is not bound to them nor does he serve them. the cosmos created him, alongside the power of the goddess of time. he was originally part of a race called The Ancient Ones. they were a tribe of powerful sorcerers and magical ability. eventually, when he was 20, he was chosen by the goddess of Time to serve her and the cosmos. It granted him new abilities and godlihood. Since then, he has traveled many worlds and lands in their name, carrying out their plans, returning home when he can.

over time, however, he began to question the cosmos’ methods of justice, seeing them as unnecessarily cruel or excessive. the ancient ones believed in balance, but with a sense of justice and fairness, and despite being a servant of the cosmos, the fierce deity could not look past this or ignore all that he had been taught and raised to believe before. this culminated upon hearing of and meeting the evil being, majora.

when fierce deity killed majora, it hadn’t been out of hatred or fear or dislike: nor empathy. it had been out of pity, and his own sense of justice. he knew majora needed to be stopped, but thought it cruel and unnecessary to trap it in time forever. he knew that keeping majora alive and in a world where time didn’t move wouldn’t stop others from seeking majora out either, and would only cause the cycle to repeat. so he went against the plans of the cosmos, and stopped majora himself. 

" I heard there was a monster here that called himself a man-eater. And I wondered, how much time he had spent here alone...? Not able to vanish from this world, but not able to live, either. Have you been in this frozen world ever since you were left here by the cosmos? To remain? A thousand years? Ten thousand years? Forever? How...harsh. "

“ Is that how you see me?! I am a fierce, evil man-eater! ”

“ There’s no one left to eat. ”

                                                      - fierce deity and majora

he followed the wishes of his people, The Ancient Ones, and using the method taught to him by them, sealed Majora away in a mask - created with his own hide - so that he would kill no longer. 

he considered both a mercy and a punishment to majora, who would no longer be forced to suffer a timeless existence, but also never be able to act upon his greed and bloodlust any longer either.

" Your power has been firmly sealed into this mask. Your power will no longer be a menace. I hope you sleep forever. "  

                                   - fierce deity to majora’s mask

however, this caused a shift in the cosmos, upsetting the powers that be. the cosmos were unhappy by his actions, but the fierce deity found himself protected by the goddess of time herself, backed by the powerful wishes of the ancient ones who sought to protect him as well. the cosmos relented, allowing him to live, but not without a price. for his actions and selfishness, he would never be able to return home. his people were no longer his. and to ensure he should never transgress again, he would no longer be a part of his people either. he would have no memory of them, no memory of his life before his duty to uphold and protect the cosmos. his true name would be lost to time, and he would only know himself as the fierce deity from thereon.

so the fierce deity continued serving the cosmos and doing as asked for a few millennia longer, but despite the seal on his memories, he continued to serve with a sense of wrongness and anger, his sense of justice disagreeing with all he heard of and saw occurring in other lands and worlds. eventually, the seal on his memories cracked, and he remembered what had happened: his people, and majora and the mask. however, he kept quiet of his revelation, choosing instead to quietly forge his own path in secrecy but with no lack of determination, boldness, and self-righteousness.

as he was her champion, fierce deity had his current armor (as seen in MM) blessed by the goddess of time, with a prophecy inscribed into both breastplates in the form of a crescent moon and triangle. she wouldn’t tell him the prophecy in full, only giving him a clue and a warning. the clue: one day, his past will catch up to him. and a warning: should he continue in his quest against the cosmos, he will surely seal his own fate away.

not long after, the fierce deity acquired his double helix sword through a series of trials. each trial served a purpose -- to show his worth, his power, and whether he was of true intentions or not. they tested him and his abilities, often pushing him to his physical and mental limit as the trials were not only in the beasts and monsters he defeated, but also in whether he was capable of handling the power that they wielded. he would need to seal that power away and carry it with him, without succumbing to want or desire or greed, back to the trial master at the end of all the trials. after successfully completing all the trials, the seals were then imbued into the metal that would become his double helix sword, granting him all of that immense power. it also is the reason behind the blue and red markings on his face, and the white of his eyes: in order to be able to wield and handle all of that power without succumbing to madness or being completely destroyed by it, enchantments, blessings, and powerful magic was stored into his being.

despite the goddess of time’s warning to him, fierce deity continued, and eventually it became known to the powers above that he was working against the cosmos, a rogue deity that had accumulated a vast amount of power and used it to deliver justice that often did not align with what had been predetermined or agreed upon.

he was too powerful to stop for a long time, but eventually was found and bound into the form of a mask -- the same as majora. the goddess of time’s warning had come true after all. 

however, he was not bound by the cosmos or any other power. he bound himself, to trick the cosmos into thinking he was no longer a threat. he lives on still in the mask because of it, incredibly powerful and waiting to return.

[thedarklordmegatron]

Ignoct Gift Exchange!

Happy New Year @spelldaggered ! I hope you enjoy this and can forgive me for the angst <3 @ignoctgiftexchange

Heads up, Noctis says the f word once towards the end of this ;)

If there was one thing that never ceased to amaze Ignis, it was the resilience of the human race. Listening to the cacophony of sounds, the laughter of children and the joyful singing of their parents, one could almost forget that they had just survived a decade of darkness and desperation. That not months earlier they had been on the verge of famine, the lack of sunlight having killed off a large portion of the fauna and flora, whilst the UV lights over time ruined the nutritional value of the crops they did manage to grow.

He had long since accepted that his sight would never return, such was the price of wielding the power of the Kings, and moved beyond wishing for even a little vision. However, sitting on a bench, or what he presumed was one, listening to the sounds of the joyful New Year’s celebrations occurring around him; Ignis once again felt his throat tighten and the longing return. Somewhere out there, among the throngs of people, were Gladio, Prompto and Iris. Early that evening he’d waved them off, telling them to enjoy themselves and celebrate, that he was more than content to rest a while and listen. He was not content. In truth, he had not been since Noctis had been taken into the Crystal all those years ago.

“You should be celebrating,” A warm voice says from his left, startling him from his thoughts was a featherlight touch to his shoulder.

“You’ll have to forgive me Majesty, but I don’t quite feel up to it.”

“Iggy” Noctis chides “Just this once, please, try to enjoy yourself.”

“Perhaps I do not wish to!” Ignis snaps before dropping his head into his hands with a sigh “Forgive me. I did not mean to shout at you.”

“It’s alright.” But it isn’t. It can’t possibly be alright. “Gladio’s walked past ten times in the last hour, he stops, looks at you and carries on.” Noctis comments, brushing up against Ignis’ side so gently that the movement could almost have been mistaken as the gentle caress of the wind. “He’s worried, they all are.”

“They’ve been worried since Altissia,” Ignis replies sharply “It’s nothing new, but I am perfectly capable of caring for myself.”

Noctis’ sigh is almost inaudible “You know that’s not what they’re worried about Iggy.” And he does. Both Gladio and Prompto had been less than subtle over the past few months, often appearing on his doorstep without warning and insisting that they spend the days together, insisting that he stay with them for a couple of days. It’s too much. He’s hardly about to throw himself from the top of the Citadel, there’s still far too much work to be done and a world in need of fixing. “Ignis?” Noctis prompts.

“I’m fine,” The lie rolls smoothly off his tongue. He’s loathed to admit it but over the past decade he’s become something of a liesmith, in another life a most admirable trait for the King’s Advisor and Spy Master, in this one? A detriment to his own physical and mental health if he’s completely honest with himself.

Somewhere among the crowd, a child screams in laughter and Ignis automatically curls in on himself, reaching for a weapon he knows will not appear. He hasn’t felt the smooth, familiar texture of his daggers in close to six months, the weapons having been stored in the Armiger at the time of the Accursed’s demise. The hand on his shoulder moves and Ignis finds himself held in a gentle embrace.

“You’re safe,” Noctis says softly, close to his ear “It was a little girl. Her sister grabbed her from behind.” While not necessarily needed, the explanation is most welcome as it successfully calms his rapidly beating heart. “It’s nearly midnight,” He continues on, “There’ll be fireworks soon.” It’s a warning disguised as an off-hand comment, that should he need to hide away from the undoubtedly loud noises that are to come there is little time to do so.

“I suspect Prompto will come and collect me before then, or at least shortly afterwards.” Ignis replies calmly. Fireworks are of no concern, he’d already sat through several shows since the coming of the Dawn. Silence descends upon them as Ignis returns to listening to the crowds, content in the arms of his partner.

After what feels like hours but in reality cannot be more than a few minutes, the musicians had only just finished their most recent song, Noctis speaks once again “I was going to propose you know.” His heart is suddenly in his throat and Ignis finds himself lost for words. “Before I went into the Crystal I had it set in my mind, once Ardyn was dead and I was on the throne, I was going to take you to the top of the Citadel and propose. Dino made the ring for me before we went to Altissia.” Why is Noctis telling him this? Did he want to cause him yet more pain? “Couldn’t imagine myself being with anyone else, not after everything we’d been through.” A tear rolls down his cheek, shortly followed by several others. “I love you Ignis, always have done and always will.”

“I love you too,” He chokes out, barely able to speak past the lump that has formed in his throat, “Gods I love you Noct.” Ignis moves to take hold of one of the hands resting on his stomach but is only met with the familiar heavy fabric of his coat. His head drops and the tears flow freely now, accompanied by barely restrained sobs. “I cannot do this without you.”

“Yes you can,” Noctis whispers into his ear, one ethereal hand moving up to hold his cheek “You’re stronger than you know Iggy, but you’ve got to want it. You’ve got to move on, forge your own path and find some happiness for yourself.”

“Happiness?” He cries through his tears “How am I meant to find happiness when you’ve gone to the one place I cannot follow?!” The music and voices of Insomnia’s citizens fade into the background, drowned beneath the sound of his own sobs.

“Because I know you,” Noctis says firmly “You’re Ignis Stupeo Scientia and you’re the most stubborn, most wonderful man I know. You aren’t one to give up because things are tough. If it’d been me who lost his eyesight, I know I’d have just said fuck it and given up. I’d have let the world go to hell in a handbasket because I wouldn’t have cared; between losing dad, Luna and then my eyes? There’s no way I’d have kept going. You though? You lost just as much as I did, even more, and you kept going. You put on the Ring of the Lucii, knowing full well that it would probably kill you, you fought Ardyn, Ardyn, because he threatened me! While I slept, you fought. You fought back and came out stronger than any of us.” He pauses and Ignis feels a familiar pair of lips ghost of his cheek. “You deserve to be happy Ignis, and if you can’t do it for yourself, do it for me.”

“Noct-” Ignis pauses. What could he possibly say to that?

“I wish things could have been different Iggy, I really do. In another life, you’d be my husband and I’d spend every moment trying to make you happy. But right now? In this life, I need you to be strong.” Noctis whispers “I need you to keep going and carry on. It’s going to be hard but that’s why you have the others. They’re your brothers just as much as they were mine Ignis. Let them help you.” Ignis sobs once again, desperately seeking the physical contact that he knows he will not find. “I love you so gods damned much Iggy.” And now he’s sure there are tears in Noctis’ voice “So much. When the time does come I’ll be waiting for you, but you’ve got to promise me that you won’t do anything stupid. That you’ll take care of yourself and try to be happy.”

“I promise,” He croaks out through his tears “I promise.” The arms around his body move away “Noct!” He stumbles to his feet and almost immediately goes crashing to his knees, “Noct!” He throws one arm out in the hopes of reaching the spectre, only to feel said hand he engulfed by coldness and a pair of icy lips touch his skin.

“I love you.” Noctis repeats once more before the chill fades away entirely. Ignis lurches forward, gasping for breath and grabbing hold of the wooden structure he’d been sitting on. He can barely hear Gladio’s voice calling out his name, it’s only when a pair of warm arms surround him does he fight back. No! Their shared body heat is quickly removing Noctis’ chill.

“Iggy!” Gladio shouts, fighting back against the hands digging into his face “Iggy stop!”

“He was here!” He protests “Noct! Noctis!” Later he’ll look back on that moment and be appalled by his frantic behaviour, and the subsequent cuts he leaves upon Gladiolus’ face. To his credit, Gladio doesn’t say anything further, he simply tucks Ignis’ arms up against his chest and holds him tightly as the fireworks signalling the start of the new year go off around them.

“It’s alright Iggy,” He soothes “It’s alright.” It’s not. It never will be. However, curled up in Gladio’s embrace, he notices a distinct weight on his left hand and upon inspection, he realises exactly what it is. A simple gold band. A ring. Bringing it up to his face he kisses it and thinks to himself that while he will never be alright, he might just be able to be okay.

[pontmercyingtil]

Stealing a Name (Queen’s Thief Fanfic)

Inside a palace, a couple speaks to each other. The woman reclines on a bed, holding a child who had, up until five minutes prior, been screaming to prove how alive he was. And had been doing so any moment he wasn’t being fed or sleeping, since the moment he’d been born, three days ago.

The couple loves each other, and adore the admittedly loud babe, managing to squeeze out these precious few days in which they were alone with their youngest.

But now, the Naming Day had arrived, and the couple was… less than in harmony over that topic.

The man, standing next to his wife, rolls his eyes at her stubborn insistence. “We can’t name him that!”

“Like your own name is any better.”

The man blushes and folds his strong arms across a broad chest. He has the frame of a soldier, despite his recent promotion to an office of quite some rank. “It’s a fine name.”

“Yes, and given your occupation, my heart, are you really that concerned over this child’s name?”

“Err.” He rubs the back of his neck. Blushes even deeper, a shade beyond scarlet. It’s that endearment, so hard-won, that flusters him every time. She claimed him, as scarred, as battle-forged and unworthy as he was, to be her heart. Of course, that also gives her the amazing ability to get whatever she wants from him.

She doesn’t even need to steal it, though she certainly could. He smiles, thinking of that. The Queen Thief has already stolen his heart, long ago, and therefore, needs not to steal anything further from him. Of course, she being who she is, knows that completely and utterly, and therefore, delights in stealing kisses and other little favors from him.

“Perhaps, then, it will be my gift to you.” He kisses her cheek. “After such a difficult birth.”

“Yes, this little one did seem to decide the age old way of exiting was not for him, and insisted on attempting a new path.” She runs a gentle finger over the curve of the babe’s cheek. Asleep, he looked like the softest painting. Awake, he was a hellion. The birth had not been easy, as the child had simply decided that, really, the best way out was trying to burrow through her spine.T he healers had called it back labor, and his wife had called the healers a lot of names.

“You’d think his siblings left him a well marked path,” she smiles, glad it was all over, and her beautiful baby boy was healthy and well. She wishes, if not an easy life for him, as these were not easy times, nor an easy family to be born into, then at least, a happy life.

“Thank all the goddesses for Galen.” the man says, and means it, beyond any other devotional he might say, even in the heat of battle.. Every birth scared him. The idea of losing all the brightness, all the joy in his life. And this time, it had nearly happened. “Yes, my gift to you is the name. We shall name the child what you wish.”

He tries not to think of how delighted his father-in-law will be, or what the child will grow up, with a name like that.

“Thank you, Pax.”

The man’s blush returns at the rare use of his given name.

The babe’s name was just a name, he decides. A name that makes his wife happy, and a name to honor the tradition that currently is driving him insane. After all, he hasn’t seen his favorite book on battle strategy in at least two weeks, and he’s quite sure it’s on a certain altar that he can never recover it from. Thievery is immune to battle plans.

“It's fine.” He re-convinces himself. No one has an easy relationship with their in-laws, not even in Eddis.

“Oh well, now that you say it’s fine, I guess it’s official.” She tugs down the arm of his uniform, and kisses him deeply.

He blushes terribly. Only she can make him blush, all the way to the tips of his ears. “I meant, that it’s good. I’m glad. It’s a gift. And after all, you can’t steal a name.”

His wife goes silent, which is when she’s at her most dangerous. She traces the tiny pert nose of the babe, and he smiles toothless up at her. “Oh, I don’t know. I think if anyone can steal a name, it might be this one. Don’t you think so, my little Eugenides?”

The babe smiles, and from somewhere, both by the mother's side, and far away, someone else smiles too, gazing upon the one that shares his name. He knows, as no one else can, that the babe's mother's wish, for a life of happiness, is not the easiest one to grant, especially not with that name.

But it's a good name, and he vows to do what he can, to steal happiness for his namesake, steal moments of joy from the pain and darkness already woven into the tapestry of his life.

A fine name for a thief, yes, the god decides, but a better one for a king.

Years and years later, in another palace, another babe was held in another set of arms, and observed by a father just as doting, although, slightly more fidgety, and certainly less… tall.

This babe, somehow, is even louder than that other babe. Then again, this one was also quite certainly going to be more spoiled.

Fewer cousins and all that. A great deal more relatives, not all of blood, eager to be called aunt and uncle, to assist in the mission of doting and spoiling the child.

And also, a very long-awaited child, to be sure.

But being both long-awaited, and sure to be spoiled, did not necessarily mean that all else would go smoothly, on the naming day.

“Oh no,” said the babe’s mother, wrapping her purple silk shawl back over her shoulder, from where it had fallen when she’d been nursing. One of her attendants said the woman nursed while having the eyes of a tiger, daring anyone to even think of commenting on her at the risk of her own life. Even now, her arms hold the child possessively, a treasure she plans to keep very close.

She knows she does not deserve this joy, this treasure in her arms, after all the things she’s broken over the years. But, the child is hers, and her husband’s, and that makes it all the more dear.

That, however, does not make her husband’s naming request correct. "What about something else," she suggest. "something to describe all we hope for?"

"Give that your name already means peace, I suppose we could name this one after war, since you insist on being the opposite of your name." her husband says flippantly, as if he had not spent every moment of the birth pacing, shouting, praying for her health. As if he does not know exactly why she'd been so warlike in her youth, and all the pain it caused her. It's easier for him to make jokes, instead of admit he's been so afraid, these long nine months, of losing her, when he feels he only so recently won her.

Or stole her, perhaps, in the way he likes to say things.

But just because her heart, her life, her child is his, does not mean he's right on this matter. "Absolutely not. Not that name."

“Why not?”

A pause, silence spreading in the royal bedroom.

“You can’t just answer me with a look! That’s not fair!” the father raked a left hand through dark hair, which might just have one or two silver strands, though he would certainly never admit that.

“Considering i’ve been carrying something the weight of a watermelon around for months, and then successfully delivered said watermelon shaped object, with no further help from--”

“You kicked him out”

“No help from-” she begins again.

“You threw a bowl at his head.”

The queen attempt to speak one more. “As I was saying-”

“And then you screamed “you don’t get to give advice on matters you will never experience, you man!”

“Considering-” she tries once more.

“Actually, I think that you might have said “weak-livered man” which is really confusing, given that from what I know of the liver, it’s not much help in childbirth:

“Eugenides!”

At the sound of the shout, the babe wakes up, blinking up at them, and lets out the first soft noise, a tiny coo like a dove. Like the peace they, and all three nations, hope she represents.

“Ah!” the man leaned in, kissed his wife on the cheek, and then, his child on her soft feathery hair. “Wonderful! You’ve named her. How perfect.”

Somewhere, coming from a location both quite close to the parents, and very far away, warm laughter echoes. A fine name for a king, yes. A better name for a queen.

The baby lifts her head, hearing the laughter, and the god smiles down at her.

If any name could be stolen, it was that one.

(also on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16104035 )

[orbemnews]

Emil Freireich, Groundbreaking Cancer Researcher, Dies at 93 Dr. Emil Freireich, a relentless cancer doctor and researcher who helped devise treatments for childhood leukemia that dramatically transformed the lives of patients thought to have little hope of survival, died on Feb. 1 at the University of Texas MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston, where he had worked since 1965. He was 93. His death was confirmed by his daughter Debra Ann Freireich-Bier. The hospital said he had tested positive for Covid-19 but it has not yet been determined as the cause of death. Dr. Freireich was a transformational, magnetic and occasionally abrasive figure who spent his career at the National Cancer Institute and MD Anderson exploring for six decades new treatments for cancer and training hundreds of doctors to follow in his path. “He oversaw research across all cancers, guiding and dictating the evolution of protocols, implementing them and publishing results that were adopted around the world,” said Dr. Hagop Kantarjian, chair of the leukemia department at MD Anderson. When Dr. Freireich (pronounced FRY-rike) started work at the N.C.I., in Bethesda, Md., in 1955, acute childhood leukemia was considered a death sentence. Entering the ward where the children were being treated, he recalled their hemorrhaging because their blood had virtually no platelets, the disc-shaped cells that clot blood. It was like an abattoir, his boss, Dr. C. Gordon Zubrod, told him. “They bleed from out of their ears, from their skin,” Dr. Freireich told the author Malcolm Gladwell in “David and Goliath: Underdogs, Misfits and the Art of Battling Giants” (2013). “There was blood on everything. The nurses would come to work in the morning in their white uniforms and go home covered in blood.” Dr. Freireich, a hematologist and oncologist, tested his hypothesis that the lack of platelets was causing the hemorrhaging by mixing some of his own blood with some of the children’s. “Would it behave normally?” he said in interview for an N.C.I. oral history project in 1997. “Sure enough, it did.” Further testing, done to persuade his skeptics at the cancer institute, proved him right. But he had another problem: the blood that the children had been receiving lacked the platelets needed for their blood to clot because it was at least 48 hours old. The platelets had deteriorated and were useless. Dr. Freireich argued successfully for the use of freshly donated blood that could be transfused as quickly as possible and did not languish in the institute’s blood bank. A minister who was the father of one of the patients once brought in 20 of his congregants to donate blood. Looking for a more effective way to deliver platelets to his patients, Dr. Freireich began to design a machine to extract platelets from white and red blood cells. He soon found an unexpected ally in George Judson, an IBM engineer whose son had leukemia and had shown up at the institute to offer his expertise. Soon they were collaborating on a continuous-flow blood separator that proved far more efficient at delivering platelets than blood transfusions. (The separator, which used a high speed centrifuge, was patented in 1966.) But Dr. Freireich’s most important, enduring achievement was in using a combination of drugs to send leukemia into remission. He explored options in chemotherapy with several N.C.I. colleagues, including Dr. Emil Frei III, who was known as Tom. They made an aggressive assault on childhood leukemia by devising a cocktail of four drugs that would be administered simultaneously — a technique similar to the three-drug regimen used to treat tuberculosis — so that each one would attack a different aspect of the physiology of the cancer cells. “It was crazy,” Dr. Freireich told Mr. Gladwell. “But smart and correct. I thought about it and I knew it would work. It was like the platelets. It had to work!” But not without peril and concern. Some of the children nearly died from the drugs. Critics called Dr. Freireich inhumane for experimenting with his young patients. “Instead, 90 percent went into remission immediately,” he told USA Today in 2015. “It was magical.” But temporary. One round of the cocktail was not enough to eliminate all the cancer so Dr. Freireich and his team treated them with the drugs monthly for more than a year. When he and Dr. Frei received the prestigious Albert Lasker Clinical Medical Research Award in 1972, the percentage of children who lived at least five years after their leukemia diagnosis was 30 percent. Today — using similar regimens that Dr. Freireich and Dr. Frei pioneered — the survival rate is 90 percent, according to the American Cancer Society. Dr. Frei died in 2013. Emil J Freireich was born on March 16, 1927, in Chicago. His mother, Mary (Klein) Freireich worked long hours at a sweatshop after her husband, David, died when Emil was 2. He was put in the care of an Irish maid who became his surrogate mother. Soon after he turned 9, his mother remarried and quit her job; she and her new husband dismissed the maid. “I never forgave my mother for that,” Dr. Freireich told Mr. Gladwell. He excelled in physics in high school, where he won first prize in a science contest. His physics teacher encouraged him to go to college where his goal was to be a family doctor like the one who treated his family. “He worked for nothing and always wore a suit and tie and always looked so dignified,” Dr. Freireich told the online publication of the American Society of Clinical Oncology in 2015. After receiving a bachelor’s degree in medicine in 1947 from the University of Illinois, Chicago, he got his medical degree in 1949 from the university’s College of Medicine, also in Chicago. His internship at Cook County Hospital, also in Chicago, ended after he confronted a nurse for putting a patient with heart failure in the so-called “dying room” rather than keeping him in the ward where Dr. Freireich had treated him. He was labeled a “troublemaker,” he said. He then served his residency at nearby Presbyterian Hospital (now part of Rush University Medical Center), then moved to Boston for a fellowship at a hospital where he studied anemia. While there, he met a nurse, Haroldine Lee Cunningham, whom he married in 1953. In 1953, he was drafted into the Army but was able to join United States Public Health Service and work at the N.C.I., an arm of the National Institutes of Health. At their first meeting, Dr. Zubrod, his boss, asked him, “Freireich, what do you do?” “I’m a hematologist,” Dr. Freireich recalled responding and watched as Dr. Zubrod scratched his head telling him, “Freireich, you should cure acute leukemia in children.” And I said, “Yes, sir.” After a decade of devising treatments for childhood leukemia at the N.C.I., Dr. Freireich (and Dr. Frei) were recruited to MD Anderson in 1965. Together they formed the Department of Developmental Therapeutics and hired scientists to develop drug combinations for various cancers, including adult leukemia, lymphoma and Hodgkin’s disease, using the same methodologies they used to treat childhood leukemia. Because of Freireich’s larger-than-life personality and magnetism, he attracted people from all over the world to study with him,” Dr. Kantarjian said. Dr. Freireich retired in 2015 but continued to teach and consult at MD Anderson. Besides his wife and Ms. Freireich-Bier, Dr. Freireich is survived by another daughter, Lindsay Freireich; two sons, David and Tom; six grandchildren and three great-grandchildren. Dr. Freireich analogized the early fight to cure childhood leukemia to being in a battle in which he and the N.C.I. team had an alliance that was “forged under fire.” To cure cancer, he added: “Motivate people and give them the opportunity People are innately motivated. Nobody likes to be lazy and do nothing. Everybody wants to be significant.” Source link Orbem News #cancer #Dies #Emil #Freireich #Groundbreaking #researcher