#cityfolk where you at

[aka-indulgence]

I’m a very city girl and now I’m imagining going to the country side and meeting farmtale Sans…

You moved there for some reason and need a place to stay, Sans was kind enough to give you somewhere to stay with some chores to do to lower your rent. You’re not experienced and you’re not that good with the chores- sometimes farm animals freak you out (cows are big, theres so many chickens, what iS THAT GIANT SPIDER?!), you can’t move heavy stuff around, even the tools are heavy for you.

And… Sans thinks you’re cute. He can do the work you do much faster than you could, but he likes your company. Every time you drop a stack of hay and panic he can’t help but chuckle and throw it on top of the pile in his arms. He likes how you’re impressed by his skill with tools and the fact that he can drive tractors. You may not be good at your job, but he likes that you want to learn anyway. You like the animals when he teaches you how to read their behavior better.

He really likes it when he saves you from a giant bug and you give him “my hero” eyes…

“those darn eyes are gonna be the death of me.”

[voidcat]

– call it fate, call it karma

characters: mithrun of the house of kerensil, elf!sorcerer!reader

notes: hello! another fic of mine that rqures a note bc once again i got too impatient. i fear it may not make much sense without the rest. this is originally the first of a 3-part work. because this is a mithrun fic, it has possible spoilers for dunmeshi, especially mithrun, so if you're an anime only, this is your warning. this takes place before the dungeon chapter of mithrun. reader is an elf. there is subtle looking down on southern lands/deeming them as inferior from mithrun's perspective- in dnd, magic users vary and how theyve acquired thier way of casting spells:) a sorcerer is p much "born to it" / in their blood. its not smt theyve studied like a wizard. thank you for reading!

i.

On a breezy day in the southern side, Mithrun, formerly of the house Kerensil, now of canaries, finds himself lost in the cobblestoned streets.

The sun shines bright above his head, creating a makeshift halo on top of his head; the weather has just begun to warm up, he thinks to himself, maybe in small moments such as this, the sun is on his side.

Unlike the lands he is familiar with, the sun is harsher here, the people mixed, one big pot of cultures and species, a stew of life and history; it's what the southern lands are often preferred for, the easier access to various branches of fields and of people. right under one's fingertips, at every five steps one takes.

Though the canaries have graced the place with their presence, it is not a matter to be fretting about. the dungeon roaming side of things almost fall unimportant this time, hence he growing worry he feels within his body as he tries and tries each street entrance he sees, but to no avail, unable to find his way to the palace grounds– taking a look at the horizon, it might be possible he has found a way to stray further away from it even.

The streets well donned with signs as they may be, they are but a book to a blind man when you haven’t got the slightest idea of the city. And so Mithrun finds himself looking around cluelessly, trying not to allow the situation to take its toll on him; keep your head up, chin high, here returns the smile bright enough to light up countless possible suitors’ lives, he takes a step, turns 180 degrees and begins to walk again, back into the crowd that is gathering with each passing minute.

Everyone seems to be in their small little world, preoccupied with those accompanying them. The sun burns bright, few gulls fly by as they greet the cityfolk with their shrieks. Only a few people look up to greet the birds, the kids waving their hands as they jump in the air. He sees a baby trying to grab one of them, a hard task to accomplish from where they lay. A kobold waving its tail eagerly, as if the scene never gets old for him.

The breeze carries the scent of seafoam and Mithrun begins to notice a slight shift in the crowd. With each step, the nonsense chatter of the people begin to change, slowly taken over by what he can guess to be vendors and the like. The strolling rhythm of the people soon replaced by hurried steps and a faster pace of liveliness in the streets. The cobblestones beneath his feet a tad shinier and worn out, he assumes this must be some point of transaction.

Standing where he is, he tries spotting the rough estimation toward the palace, deciding a route for himself from then on. 

The swarm of people suddenly increases, the volume with them as well, and in about five minutes, it all dies down.

It is the instant loss of sound that first draws his attention and Mithrun finds himself unable to hide the surprise on his face. Lips slightly parted, he can taste the air growing lighter with the little amount of people in its vicinity. Forgetting his main task at hand, he looks around, left and right, a tad surprised, a tad observing the place, spotting more and more differences it holds compared to the other streets he has passed thus far.

Mostly vendors selling drinks or tools one might require at the last minute, shops that reek of ink and freshly published books, buy one get the second frog for half the price– do not miss this deal of a– “hello… anyone the–” a foreign voice cuts his thoughts in the middle.

What was it he was reading again? Some nonsense bargain to quickly sell leftover produ–? His thoughts come to a halt when his mind finally registers the foreign voice to be still talking, and presumably its owner waving a hand into his face.

“Ah, there you are! Sir, are you alright?” the voice gets clearer with each syllable, as does his view. 

Before him, stands an elf, no older than him for sure but with a doubt in the back of his mind. If there is one thing he has noticed, it is the southern continent elfs, at least the ones of this city all look remarkably young, younger than their northern siblings for sure; big curious eyes, bright skins glistening under the sun. probably just a side effect of the climate, and perhaps the result of a more leisure life. Starvation is never a thought in the back of one’s mind, causing stress with the passing days when there is no risk of all your crops freezing overnight. 

You could toss the seed of a fruit you ate as you walk, and find it growing into a tree in few years time, he has overheard people say about the lands here before. Fertile lands, rich in culture and nutrients.

“Aah,” your wondering sound draws his attention back on you, “are you lost? Do you need help?”

His lucky hours indeed, he thinks.

With a chuckle, he closes his eyes, bringing a hand to the back of his hand, “ah, is it that obvious?” he asks in a manner others often find shy and friendly.

With a hum, you seem to weigh your answers. “Yes and no.” you say, “if that’s what you’re worried about!” you add as an afterthought.

Then it must be the clothes that gave him away. He finds it odd that someone this far away from the palace recognizes the canaries’ uniforms but apparently possible.

As if reading his mind, you speak “I’m used to people asking for directions. I usually run into people who lost their way here.” with a smile as if sharing some sort of joke, or a secret with him. Maybe the occurrence has happened so frequently you just find it amusing at this point, accepting your fate as it is.

“So, where were you going?” you inquire. “The palace.” he answers curtly.

At his response, your eyes seem to gleam, who knows what it is you have found amusing this time– he begins to wonder if it’d be safer to get directions from a nearby vendor.

“I’m headed around that way too! Come on, just follow me.” you take off before the last word leaves your mouth. Quick, long steps, you create a gap between the two of you before he can catch onto the development of events.

With quick strides, he catches up to you easily, calculating if he keeps the same pace, he will be ahead of you, and lost again, soon, so he slows down, letting his eyes roam.

You walk in rhythm, as if using a song to keep yourself and your steps even. Eyes locked up ahead, only drifting when you pass by a reflecting surface, you seem focused, probably walked the same path countless times before, and become a guide many times as well.

After passing several buildings, the architecture of the city seems ordinary now, the general theme and style making itself apparent with its bronze and corals, warm and earthly tones. He muses whether to hold a conversation be wiser or not.

“So…” he begins as to signal the beginning of a conversation. “Are you a voluntary guide or mandatory?”  

You chuckle at his question and steal a glance his way: “hard to believe but by pure coincidence and luck every single time.” 

“How come?” how often would it have to happen for you to say it like this? “More than I would like to count. And not even mentioning the ones i try to avoid.”

“Such as?..” He lets the question hang. “Ah, just those who are clearly locals but refuse to read the signs right behind them.” you say. 

Suddenly you bring your hands in front of you like those extinct birds, eyes rolled, mimics overly exaggerated “‘How can i get to X street?’. You pitch your voice in a sudden “We ARE in X street! How could you have gotten here without knowing!” you raise your tone, sounding exhausted. 

As quick as you were to make gestures, you drop your arms in front of you as if they are not extensions but just sacks attached to you.

He finds himself giggling at the display. So dramatic.

At his reaction, you gather yourself again and remain your initial self. “You don’t believe me, do you…” you fake a pout. “Well, no matter! I don’t lose anything at the end of the da– cat!” before you finish your word, he watches you rush to your new subject of attention a little ahead of you too.

At the horizon, he sees the palace getting bigger and bigger. As quick as you were to dash, you return just as swiftly.

The walk continues steadily. Was it not for the sun slowly making rounds, its rays shifting the color of the walls, Mithrun wouldn’t have noticed time passing by. You don’t ask much about him, most likely out of respect for a stranger, but still talking nonetheless, pointing at things here and there, giving random information about whatever it is you are showing– be it a concrete part of the city or just a random flower by a windowsill.

The general theme of the streets begin to shift again, foretold by the overtaking scent of something sweet, salty and yeast-y. Up ahead, he can hear the growing chatter of the people once more. 

“From then on, you should just walk straight ahead until you are at a crossroads. Then take a right and keep walking straight until you spot the gates.” you to him and say. So you part ways here, he thinks, recalling what you’ve said earlier when you’ve met.

“I’ve gotta do a quick run somewhere, I walk fast so chances are I will be by your side in no time but if i don’t, and you get lost, you can ask around anyone here now.” you add on as to assure him. What a sense of duty for someone you’ve just met… if this is how you are with everyone you give directions to, then you should be really looking out for yourself.

Yet it is a refreshing reminder, Mithrun finds, that there are still those with innocence and good will, no hidden agendas or the like.

Repeating what you’ve just told him in his head, Mithrun gives you a nod and a formal thanks. Watching as your steps fasten ahead and to the left of the street. So you do walk faster, what a city in hurry with its people, no wonder the cobblestones all look worn out and polished.

As he walks by people, he overhears the time, ease taking over him to know he is not late to anything yet.

The source of the pleasant scent shows itself in the guise of a street lined with bakeries and small market places brimming with freshly picked fruit.

The city gains a different wave of life in this particular street– people more at ease, a perfect representation of the leisurely image they have for themselves. Not a care, not a single worry in the world, a safe haven to live and spend the end of your days.

Among the chatter, his ears pick up on familiar footsteps and he finds himself side by side with you once more. Such a hurry for a lazy city…

Too enamored with the box you now have in your hands, you don’t seem to notice him– or even if you do, you make a good job of hiding it.

It doesn’t hurt to have a companion for the remainder of the path as well, and so he calls out to you “it seems fate allowed us to meet again.” he says with a smile, receiving one in return after you wipe off the short lived expression of surprise on your face.

“Someone was afraid of getting lost again, I see.” you claim playfully.

Putting away the box to a bag, you let it dangle slightly with your steps and refocus your attention back on the road and on Mithrun.

Just as you said, at crossroads the two of you make a right, the sign there only showing the palace ahead.

Well maintained soil and flowers take over the road, adding a faint fragrance to the air.

Each step closer to the gates and with nothing else in the perimeter for you to have gone, Mithrun begins to wonder whether you are prolonging your route for the sake of him or not. 

Only for you both to walk past the gates of the palace; one guard checking his identity and another yours; only for you to carry on walking with him, your end destination revealing itself to be the same as his since the beginning.

At the steps he can hear his teammates' voices in the distance and in the blink of an eye one of the fairies approaches him. Casting a glance at you, and seeing you’re away from the hearing range, attention already elsewhere, he is informed their meeting isn’t until another hour and he can wait wherever he wishes, as long as he arrives prior to 10 minutes.

Bidding the fairy goodbye, he walks up to where you stand, hearing a disappointed sound coming from you at the sight of a butterfly taking off as he arrives.

Noticing his presence when his shadow casts over you, you turn to look up and meet his gaze. “You’re still here?” you sound surprised.

He settles for a shrug, “it seems I have another hour to kill.” 

You seem to be contemplating something, eyes going between the main entrance and him, the entrance and the benches by the gardens– “oh i know!” you sound excited. “How about I give you a reading!” you say more than ask, leaving him no choice but to comply. You seem too excited to be turning down any ways, and so Mithrun finds himself following after you once more.

The palace gardens are wide, starting from the gates and, if the palace plans are like any other, spreading all the across the palace itself, a section of a greenhouse somewhere, a labyrinth of bushes and trees in the back; so much green and so much land, it is impressive how well maintained it is even from the looks of what Mithrun can assume to be the epilogue of the real thing. That’s the thing with southern cultures, as leisure and fertile as they come, theirs is a lifestyle devoted to luxury as well, in all the slight, hidden ways. Hectares and hectares of land worth more than measly chandeliers made of gold. They need constant attending to, care, resources and whatnot.

You walk ahead and settle for a bench made of stone, no different than the ones you have passed along the way, save for the shade falling over its space. Seeing you sit at one end, Mithrun copies your act, the bench itself is long enough for more than three people in regular wear to fit, and wide enough that he cannot sit all the way back. Seeing you positioning yourself sideways, he pauses and lets his eyes wander over the garden section you are at.

Not too far away from the gates but not too out in the open, a decent distance away from every direction one may need to, it mustn’t be the first time you had to kill time here. He wonders whatever is happening that postponed their meeting is the same thing that has you waiting outside all by yourself.

The sound of something dropped onto the bench draws him out of his thoughts followed by the sounds of rummaging through what one assumes to be a bag. Turning to sit sideways like you did, he looks down to spot a box on the middle of the surface. Recognizing it as the box that came into your possession after you first parted ways, his eyes look up, watching as you have one in a bag, your cast upwards, tongue almost sticking out, painting one of those comical poses.

“Found it!” you exclaim more to yourself in victory and redirect your attention to him, only to find him looking back, seeming surprised to realize he was watching you the whole time. Seeing the clueless expression on your face, as if you have no idea what to do or how to live with your shame now, he tilts his head to the side and giggles at your demeanor. Only a few deep breaths later and with his nonchalant reaction do you return to normal, blink a few times then remember what it was you were looking for this whole time.

“Here! Let me do a reading for you.” you say rather excitedly, and yet again, excitement seems to be a part of your nature from his observations so far. “A… reading?” Mithrun sounds confused, he titled the other way this time.

“Yes!” you say as you begin to shuffle the cards. “It’s a relationship reading technically, but a harmless way to pass time that my friends and i often do.” you explain.

Looking down at the cards in your hands, he first notes how worn out they are, like everything else in this city. Then seeing the reds and blacks, as well as the symbols, he finds it odd it’s a simple deck of playing cards. Fortune tellings and readings done with cards often use special decks like tarot after all. The cards don't glide off of each other like a professional deck should, a side effect to their age, but it doesn’t seem to bother you once a bit, your fingers make it work smoothly. Either you must have done more readings than you let on– which he doesn't find plausible, as you sounded a little inexperienced and unsure, or that the cards were passed down to you from someone else. Or you have been introduced to gambling at extremely young ages, which should be more than alarming in his eyes. 

What too much free time brings to lives, it seems. In the northern cities, you don’t have the time nor the luxury to learn to gamble unless you have a life that doesn’t worry about survival. Partially true for his case, he muses, you are either too busy surviving or busy ruling, in charge of something bigger to not have any time left for such petty things.

Suddenly your hands come to a halt and your gaze finds his. “Alright, so, any other na–” you stop mid sentence. “My apologies, I never got your name.” you say sheepishly, waiting.

“Mithrun,” he says, “of the house of Kerensil.” he watches for any sign of recognition in your eyes but to no avail. At most, you seem to ponder in your head ‘where was this name familiar from’, but you don’t seem to know of them, and he cannot blame you, there are many noble families and people often aren't acquainted with them unless they are from the same vicinity. 

Giving him a nod, you test his name on your lips, dragging the syllables, your gaze cast upwards again, then turn back to look at him in a sudden you seem content, you introduce yourself as well.

You place the deck between the two of you almost in a slam and look at him again. Mithrun’s eyes land on the deck, then to your face and back at the deck again, waiting for your instructions.

“You can cut the deck.” you say and watch as he does carefully, a perfect half. Placing the bottom half on top of the top, you hold and right as you are about to pull a card, you notice the box that’s been sitting there this whole time. 

With the back of your hand, you push the box towards him, earning another confused look from Mithrun. Placing the deck, you undo the ribbon at top and open, revealing its content with a sudden burst of the scent of that busy street. “I had purchased extra to share with and to snack later on.” you say, not sparing the pastries a glance. “You can have some.” you urge him to try one. 

Fingers carefully dipped into the box, Mithrun grabs one of the long pastries and brings it out, ‘an eclair, huh’ he recognizes the small sweet to be. Though unlike the classical ones he has come across, this one contains red cubes of something within the cream, cut up strawberries, he assumes; and biting into the pastry, his assumptions are proved correct as he lets the taste linger on his senses.

Seeing him eat and display a face of pleasure, you seem content as well and begin to count each letter of his name, placing seven cards separately, their backs facing the sun. just as he wonders if this was it, you repeat the action, creating seven piles of cards until the deck ends. When you have no more cards to deal, you grab one of the stacked groups and deal them again, and again and again, until you have no more cards to deal, until there are only two piles left. Just as you did when he cut the deck, you place one on top of the other and put all the cards, backs facing the sun.

Just as he thinks, ‘so, this was it?’ you pull the cards from the deck and place them side by side, repeating the process until there are no cards left in your hands. Unlike your dealing and shuffling, you do this part a little slower, he examines. He can see you pull the cards at the top and bottom. Face concentrated, you gather the pile of cards back into a deck and start over. “Anyone in your life, or a certain someone in your mind?” you ask, eyes finding his.

His mind goes to his beloved at your question, but he chooses to be silent. “My cards are rather old, and I don't like to make mistakes.” you say, not allowing for silence to gather. “So when I pull the two cards, I pull each one separately. My friend pulls both with only two fingers rather smoothly actually, hers is much more pleasant to watch.” so you did notice him observing after all. Pulling and placing another couple of cards, you suddenly stop and place them to the other side, away from the pile. He shouldn’t be guilty of observing though, when you are doing all the work and the other party has no choice but to wait, one either talks or watches, no inbetween. 

He watches as your hand quickly places another double to the side, a few spaces later and another one again. So this is how it is, he thinks, as you gather the deck one last time and repeat the process a third time.

When finished, you spread the remaining cards in a line and quickly count the amount or pairs, tell him to pick the same count of cards. Staring at the cards laid down before him, Mithrun picks each card carefully, reaching them out to you face down, as you take each and place it on top of an existing pair. When he picks the last one, you speak up: “now pick three more.”

He recalls what he heard from the others before regarding cards and readings, dont think too much, pick quickly. His hand goes on its own and he picks the first card; “you” the card taken from his hand and placed down, your voice fills the air. His hand darts to another card, and you take it from him in no time; “the other party.”. There is something in the way you started speaking that gives him an odd feeling. Without looking, he picks his final card and holds it out for you to take, “your future.” you simply say.

Flipping the cards on top of the doubles, you stay silent for a while, looking at each card and muttering something to yourself.

Then with a sudden clap of your hands, you look up. “alright, so!” you begin, waiting just to make sure you have his attention on you, “this is mostly a silly thing we use to pass the time and there is no guarantee the cards say the absolute truth. With some of us, the readings made no sense until the reader and the one being read got to know each other and became friends.” you ramble off, “although, with some people I later grew to be friends with, I got their latest relationship right in the cards so… I suppose it’s a fifty-fifty situation, alright?” your rambling comes to a stop and you offer him a smile. Out of pity or some sort of consolation, he doesn't know. He didn’t watch carefully enough to learn how you opened the cards, so the possibility of giving him all the info you have on this is out the window too.

Flipping the remaining cards, you leave the last three and begin to tap on each couple plus singular piles of cards.

“Hmm… jealousy… trouble… the relationship card is there too but ah… could it be really yours?” you speak more to yourself than to him and Mithrun finds himself leaning in.

He doesn’t believe in such things like fortune telling, everyone decides their own fate, craft their lives with decisions they make. A random made up reading a stranger made for him out of nowhere won’t have an affect on him. But then again, his mind stops for a second, straightening up, he waits, still– he senses no mana in the air so even if you manage to get some things right regarding his life, it will be a lucky guess and no ruse, he thinks. 

For such leisure lives, one would expect people to use magic in their daily lives too, yet from all the minutes he has spent by your side so far, he hasn’t felt a drop of mana— so much so, the lack of it would be found eerie by other elves.

“It is a little vague but that’s what the last three are for.” you begin speaking. “So it goes like this: there is jealousy and yearning, an offer that will come with time and a relationship that has jealousy on it. There is trouble as well, with time– assuming the relationship is yours, a third person might cause trouble; but if it is not, then… well,” you pause, a sad look on your face, “I am sorry, I hope whatever happens works in your favor.” you say. As he begins connecting what you have said with his life, doing his best to keep his brother’s image away from his mind, you flip the three cards in order.

“Oh…” you sound upset, and a little surprised. So it is the latter, he gathers.

“I was hoping maybe the ‘offer’ card would come second here but i suppose not.” you say and show him the cards.

“You, jealousy; the other party, agape; and the future…” your brows furrow, “time.” 

Silence takes over the two of you for a while. Just the sound of leaves rustling with the breeze, some cicadas, and the birds in the distance communicating.

“Welp! As I said, sometimes when it’s a stranger, the reading itself makes no sense.” you speak up suddenly, bringing a hand to your hair, seeming apologetic. 

Gathering the cards together in one go, you collect them into a deck again and put away, avoiding Mithrun the whole time. Placed in their case and out of sight the traitorous cards are, your hand makes way for one of the pastries, carefully placing it between your fingers so as to not get any of the chocolate coating touching your skin. You bite into the small treat intently, careful not to have the cream filling overflowing.

“I hear footsteps, they must be finished inside.” you say as you take your last bite and nudge the box to him to take another one. Seeing as your offer will not end until he complies, he grabs another eclair and slowly munches on the pastry as you close the box and gather your belongings, preparing to take off.

“Do you remember the way back?” you ask, standing above him. When he replies with a nod, you let out a sigh. “Alright then, I will be taking my leave. It was my pleasure meeting you and making your acquaintance for the day!” and with it, you turn on your heels and walk just as you came, still fast and rhythmic; as if walking at a slower speed is physically impossible for you. With the eclair still in his hand, Mithrun sits a little longer, letting the breeze carry away all the thoughts your cards have brought him. Looking at you go, you never once turn back, odd, he thinks, you almost seemed the type to turn one last time and wave a hand.

[q4evze]

oh yeah baby we're so back (reposting old shit)

♡ sub!kaeya, fucking surprise

♡cw: alcohol, god!reader, u are the anemo archon, gn reader, penetrative sex but no parts mentioned on either end, sort of dacryphilia, general cosmic knowledge bullshit

♡a/n: if yk yk

“I think you’ve had a bit too much,” comes a flirtatious voice behind you. Though the first floor of the tavern is always crowded and cheerful, the second stays quiet enough for you to recognize the voice’s owner.

“What makes you say that?” you reply without turning around. The answer was obvious– empty glasses litter the table you’d claimed in the dim corner– but Kaeya wasn’t one for small talk. No, if he’d gone out of his way to find you, there was a more important reason.

Gloved hands press into the faded wood next to you, along with a glass that smells of Death After Noon, as the Captain leans over the table. “Rough day, was it?”

“I didn’t know you cared.”

“Is it so astonishing that I’d care for my God?”

Your hands playing with the splintering wood of the table stilled. There had always been cityfolk that knew your secret, but not many had so shamelessly flaunted their knowledge. It would seem fitting of the Spymaster to keep you on your toes. It wouldn’t be right, though, you decide, to let someone so brazen play games with a god.

“I didn’t take you for the type,” you answer measuredly, turning to meet his eye. “But then, I didn’t think I’d mentioned who I was to you before. Perhaps I’ve just scratched the surface in my perception of you.”

And perhaps the human drink has finally reached your brain, you think, as his visible eye glitters at your words. “Let’s get you home,” are the words that fall from his lips, neatly avoiding your implications. Fitting of the Knights, so good at backing out of impossible corners.

Your thoughts almost distract you from his next question.

“Where do you stay?”

You smile and lean in close, close enough Kaeya can hear you over the music and laughter of the tavern when you speak. “I don’t stay. I move where the winds lead me. And tonight, they’ve led me to you.”

He watches you, always so critical, as you lift his Death After Noon to your lips and let the sweet wine slide down your throat.

“Are you sure?” he asks, almost surprised. The wine hits your blood but does nothing to dull your mind. So difficult, to get drunk on the spirits of mortals. But there are other ways, you reason, to intoxicate oneself. And a new door just opened.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You don’t have any sense of danger? No regard for your safety?”

You shift slowly, leaning in towards the Captain. “You overestimate yourself,” you murmur, slow and sure. “Do you think you know more than me? Do you think I haven’t watched over you since you stumbled into my land? Do you think you would have thrived here without my blessing?”

You move closer, close enough that your lips brush against his ear when you say, “Do you think I don’t know you better than you know yourself?”

Kaeya freezes for a minute, but manages to maintain his façade. “If we’re to continue this conversation, it should be when you’re sober,” he relents.

“Such kindness,” you reply. So much this mortal didn’t know, so much he thought he did. You decide to keep to yourself that the wine had nothing to do with your disposition.

The scenes of the tavern and the streets blur as calloused hands guide you outside and into the night. You smile to yourself quietly– you hadn’t even had to ask– as the lights of the townhouses come into view.

The first thing you notice is that the decoration is sparse. A boy from two broken families would want less to miss, but the reality of it brings you to your senses. The music and blurriness of the city fall away to the quiet understatedness of the apartment.

Wordlessly, you remove your shoes and cross the room to wrap your arms around the Captain’s slender waist from behind.

“Poor lonely boy,” you whisper to him, your voice deep and rasping. “So underappreciated, so hopelessly unaware of the love this city feels for you.” Your grip tightens, sliding down over his hips. “Let me show you how much Mondstadt loves you.”

“You’re Mondstadt itself, are you?” comes his reply, breathless and questioning. Kaeya turns in your hands, tracing the softly glowing veins of your arms from elbow to wrist. The new orientation allows for you to let your fingertips wander, closer to where you wanted them.

“Yes,” is your simple answer. “The city, the lands, the people. I thought you knew.”

His back arches into you at the command of a wandering hand.

“I know your value to my people,” you continue, other hand tugging at his bottom lip, admiring its fullness. “I know what you deserve, outlander. You have the blessing of the Anemo Archon, is that not enough for you?

His stunned silence keeps you talking– you’ve never seen the Cavalry Captain speechless before. “Few can say they’ve caught the attention of a god. Some might consider themselves honored. Some might praise and worship me. But I like you best because you wouldn’t do any of that at all.” You brush a stray lock of hair out of his face carefully. “Beautiful little thing, let me show you how wanted you are.”

“You’re awfully confident,” comes his reply, deliberate as he brings your hand on his face to his lips, sucking at the worn, scarred flesh.

The time between the exchange at the front door and arriving in bed seems nonexistent. You hover over the mortal, veins thrumming with magic as you move to rid him of his clothes.

His submission catches you off guard, however, when he melts into your touch, letting his eye flutter shut as your fingers swiftly work open the laces of his corset and belt with an adept familiarity, as if you had put them on the Captain yourself. When the buttons of his shirt come undone, you busy yourself with his chest, and when you finally manage to peel his tight pants down his thighs, your teeth sink into the soft brown skin of his stomach.

Desperate hips rock against your chin, looking for friction. When your exploring touch finds his tight rim, you hear a barely muffled gasp from above you. That’s what I’m looking for.

“Do you have anything to help with this?” you mumble against his skin, biting back a laugh when he clenches tighter at the sound of your voice.

“Bedside table”, he answers, desperately trying to hide the shakiness of his voice. You fish in the drawer until you draw up an oil, one you first remember being used for this purpose hundreds of years ago. You push the Knight’s knees apart.

“Just like that,” you murmur, pouring the shining golden liquid over your fingers. Before the excess can spill over your palms, you press it into him, deliberate and unceremoniously. Try as you might, your eyes never stray from between his thighs as you coax your toying fingers deeper. Deft and smooth as ever, you spread him open before your prying, all-seeing eyes, as if to peel away all his secrets with the display.

Kaeya’s sweet moans brought your attention back to the present, the present where you were feeling and human and vulnerable, where another ached just out of reach of your fingertips. The present, the reality, where you could realize how much you needed to be inside the mortal crying out and stuffed full of your digits as soon as possible.

The show of his hole spreading and twitching for you almost distracted your focus enough to forget your intentions. Almost, but not quite. You stare into his bottomless, starry eye as you slide into him.

Settling your hands around the halo of blue hair, you rolled your hips forward, tender and forgiving. “I love you,” you whisper as you feel his body tremble under yours.

“You’re d-drunk,” he accuses, gasping in time with your soft thrusts. “D-don’t say things like that unless you mean it.”

Your reply comes easily. “You think I don’t?” Your lips graze the soft incline of his cheekbones. “I speak for my city. I speak for my land and all of its people. I am the wind and sky, the lifeblood of the land.”

“I love you, Kaeya.”

“Ahhhh!”

“We are your home. We love you.”

“Don’t say that, I told you–”

“I am your home. I love you.”

It had been so, so long since anyone had told Kaeya that he was loved.

The cruel emotional overstimulation you insisted on putting him through makes tears shine in his eye; that unknowable, sparkling eye. It also makes him tighten around you again.

As Kaeya’s lips part in protest, you press his knees back against his chest and drive yourself in further, reaching down to draw his lips to yours. “I love you,” you repeat, quieter against his lips before tugging his lip into your teeth. You pretend not to notice the tears that wet your cheek.

Kaeya’s fingers dig into your back, pushing you deeper, closer, as if all he wanted was to end up in a world where only you would tell him he was loved, over and over, until he could understand. The sound of his orgasm is carried on the melody of a wordless sob. His tears stream down his face in rivers now, and you lick them off his face one by one, buried deep inside as he clings to you tightly.

Well done, you think to yourself, as the Knight shakes and sobs at your mercy. What better way to welcome a mortal home than to show him his god’s love firsthand?

[ratwavekayla]

PSYCHODUNGEON is out now physically and available to purchase from the Rat Wave Webstore. If you missed out earlier this year nows you're chance to grab the GMless mindscape dayjob dungeoncrawler that everyone's talking about.

(also there's now a deal on the site where if you email me a receipt of a digital purchase I'll offer you a 15% discount off the relevant book)

"PSYCHODUNGEON is a post-Blairite, post-Dungeon, modernist nightmare laced with hope. Imagine if the adventuring party sent to accompany you into the labyrinth spawned from your traumatic past are employed by the same company who decided to skimp on COVID protections for their care homes as it made more money than ensuring nobody living in them died, and overseen by the government department tasked with making sure nurses are as overworked/underpaid as possible. Sure, this band will try their best to help (most of the time). But also, their lives are hard as fuck. They are gonna be messy and imperfect and it is going to get weird somewhere along the line. Truthfully, I'm surprised this game didn't first appear as a strip in 2000AD." - Tanya Floaker (The Connection Machine, Solstice, Be Seeing You)

"PSYCHODUNGEON does what some of the best Belonging Outside Belonging games do, which is create a setting that is a powerful mirror to our own, and then weave that setting into the very marrow of the game. The setting, its dungeons, clients, and psychoplumbers are inescapable in the best way possible because you don’t want to escape it. You want to dive in and see and feel everything that the postdungeon city of Glyndain has to offer. And then come out the other side changed by the experience." - Josh Hittie/Ostrichmonkey Games (Vibe Check and DEATHGRIND!!MEGASRUCTURE!!)

"PSYCHODUNGEON is one of those rare gems of a game that are at the same time strong death-of-capitalism critique and interesting dungeon delving. Most importantly, the way characters are very much not-ok is fresh and stimulating. I want to go and be not well in a psychodungeon." - Paolo of Lost Pages

[dutifullylazybread]

Hi Darcy!! Love your writing so much!

Since you're opening up Headcanon requests, I was curious: What do you think Rolan's nightmares contain? Same for Cal and Lia maybe?? I love how you alluded to Rolan's nightmares with how he wakes up "choking on his own panic" I always think Rolan's nightmares are either about his mother, Lorroakan, or both! I can't wait to hear your thoughts!

Thank you so much! 🥹 I had a blast reading through your fics the other day—so thank you for sharing such lovely writing with all of us.

So this was a really interesting thought exercise for me. I was a little nervous to start this headcanon list, because I wanted to do these three characters justice.

I have done my best to pull from nightmares I have had, and I have also conducted research to make sure I am not working solely from one point of view.

Content warnings: Nightmares as a result of living through some pretty terrifying experiences, parental death/finding deceased parent (mentioned at the end of all three sections) and discussions of past abuse (found in Rolan's section).

Nightmares - Cal, Lia, and Rolan

Cal

Cal dreams of falling.

To be specific, he dreams of when Elturel descended.

The reason I say this is because I came across this MtG card illustration of the Descent into Avernus, and it has stuck with me:

So when Elturel descended, would it really be too surprising if some people lost their footing and fell off the edge?

As Elturel is dragged into Avernus by these chains, cityfolk are being ripped off of the ground. If they can’t grab onto something stable enough to hold fast while the city descends, or if they aren’t flush to the side of a building, then they are likely flying off of the edge.

Cal had been running errands for the general store that he worked at when Elturel descended. Were it not for the sturdy building he found himself pressed up against, he might not have survived the Descent.

Now, he frequently dreams of falling into the River Styx. He doesn’t usually wake up when he hits the water, but he will dream of staring up at the city, and he can’t move. He can’t swim to the surface.

Cal also dreams of Moonrise Tower’s dungeons. He remembers the smell of rot and death, and he remembers the sounds of things moving around in the shadows.

When these nightmares take a turn for the worse, he manages to get out of the prison cell, and he starts searching for Lia. He knows something bad has happened, but he can’t find her.

He, like Rolan, dreams about finding their mother's body.

Lia

Lia dreams of Zariel. My personal headcanon is that, when Elturel was pulled into Avernus, Lia was likely in the city’s square (Shiarra’s market). This would be a place where there would be a lot of people, especially when the Descent occurred. So after the city was pulled into Avernus and chained above the River Styx, Zariel landed in the city square.

Zariel would have made this appearance to 1) scare everyone shitless, 2) to show off the forces under her control, and 3) to make it clear why she chose to drag Elturel into Avernus. She would make it known then and there who was at fault, because she would want to sow dissent amongst the people of Elturel.

And Lia, who had been in the midst of training, was right there. Perhaps paces away from Zariel. And she brought a detachment of her devil army with her. 

Lia dreams about fleeing the marketplace. She never looks behind her, because she fears either Zariel or her devils will be there, at her heels.

While she runs, she searches for Rolan and Cal, calling out for them but receiving no answer.

She tries to find her way home, but as she flees, the city’s streets become almost maze-like. 

And, at a certain point, she feels like she is running in place. The street stretches out in front of her, her legs are moving under her, but she simply can’t gain enough traction to push herself forward.

She will usually wake up just as she feels something grapple her from behind.

If her nightmares turn into sleep paralysis, she might dream that Zariel is in the room with her, watching from the shadows cast by her wardrobe.

When Lia dreams about their mother, she dreams about trying to run towards her but never reaching her. When having these dreams, she feels like, if she can't reach her, something very, very bad will happen.

Rolan

So I agree with you that Rolan dreams about Lorroakan. There are indeed instances where he just relives Lorroakan's abuse as a flashback.

He also dreams about getting lost in the Shadow-Cursed lands. He wanders through the forest, calling for his siblings.

If he dreams of Elturel, then he dreams of running through the house, calling out for Cal and Lia and their mother. No one answers. 

It’s like he is moving through a strange haze. He is looking everywhere, but he knows that no one is there. He can hear chaos outside of the household, and it makes him panic.

Something is banging on the front door. He cannot find his family, but he knows he needs to before whatever is outside gets in.

I do headcanon that their mother died before Elturel was returned to the material plane, but she was alive prior to the Descent. 

Rolan and Cal found her body.

In his nightmares, Rolan rushes out into the garden, thinking that he might find Cal or their mother there.

The garden wrapped around the house. And when he immediately steps outside, he is struck by this deep, sickening dread. He knows something is wrong. He wants to go back inside, but he is compelled to keep walking forward. He remembers looking for his mother out here before and finding something horrible.

He wants to go back inside, but he can’t.

Before he rounds the corner to where the flowerbeds are, he wakes up.

[runningw-thewolves]

We all know about how Fenrir is supposed to kill Odin at Ragnarok. Thing is that this story has been the same since it was recorded back in the early 1000s, and myths aren’t supposed to remain the same. They are supposed to adapt to the times, have embellishments that apply to the modern day. So with that in mind, here is a modern retelling of Fenrir’s story, with embellishments to represent the struggle against oppression that minorities face, the fire to live when another group calls for your death or torture.

Fenrir was always an excitable puppy. He deeply loved his home, his family, and his life. He had parents who were willing to play with him at his level, as well as siblings who didn’t judge him for being a wolf pup. When Odin came and kidnapped the children - and he did kidnap them - Fenrir was traumatised deeply. His culture laid back in Jotunheim, and he was forcibly uprooted. He hoped, perhaps, he could still have his siblings. Jormungandr, at this point braver than Fenrir, tried to fight back and was thrown into the seas of Midgard. Hel, the quietest of the three, clung tight to Fenrir, and the wolf did what he could to protect her though, frankly, he was just as scared.

At the gates of Asgard, Fenrir was forced on to the Asgardian soil. He waited for Hel; she tried to exit the vessel but was held back. She tried to break free but found she was overpowered. Fenrir, the ever loving eldest brother, tried to jump to her aid; he too was held back. He watched, tears in his eyes, as Odin commanded for Hel to be banished to the darkest of the realms where should would never set foot on Asgard. Fenrir could only sit and watch as his sister cried and screamed for him, begging him to do something while he was also overpowered, robbed of agency to protect.

In Asgard, Fenrir was kept in a cage in the square of the kingdom. The cityfolk stared at him, gawked and gossiped. Fenrir had no shelter from the rain, the brittle snow and harsh cold, the howling winds, or even from the judging stare of others. One God, Tyr, noticed the wolf had not been fed and would likely die if not given a meal soon. He called a meeting with Odin, pleading on the Wolf’s behalf to free him, feed him, give him proper shelter. Odin took deep offense to this, and soon so did most of the Gods. The only one who sided with Tyr was the Wolf’s father, Loki.

After months of fighting, pleading and debating, Tyr approached the Wolf’s cage with a key and a collar. Tyr opened the door of the cage, sitting down as he gently held a hand forward for Fenrir to sniff. “Easy,” Tyr spoke softly, “I’m not gonna hurt you.” From his pocket, Tyr pulled out a slab of meat and placed it before the wolf. Fenrir was at first puzzled, suspicious; it didn’t smell poisoned, but how could he know for certain? Fortunately, hunger overrode him and he devoured the meat, barely chewing. Fenrir felt no pain, no illness came to him. Tyr smiled at him; “See? I don’t wanna hurt you.” The isolation crept up on Fenrir and he crawled to the God’s side, weeping into his clothing as the God stroked his matted fur.

Tyr took the wolf back to his halls, brushed out the matts in his fur, bathed him, tended to his wounds and provided plenty of food and water. Tyr secured land for the wolf to run around in, and provided comfortable bedding for the wolf to curl up on. When Fenrir was clean and satiated, Tyr explained the nature of the collar; “I was able to secure your freedom on the condition that you wear this. However, when you are in my halls, on my land, you will remain uncollared.” Preferring it over the cage, the pup agreed.

Fenrir became Tyr’s loyal companion, and the two grew close. The wolf came to see the God as a brother, and their love for one another caused something strange to happen; Fenrir grew rapidly under the affection of Tyr. So rapidly, in fact, that the space Tyr acquired soon was too small for the wolf. The cityfolk and the Gods protested in anger, and Odin called another meeting.

In this meeting, he scolded Tyr; “You asked for his freedom, and brought the threat straight into our home without restraint.” Tyr tried to argue in Defense of the Wolf, but the Gods outnumbered him. “Kill him!” One shouted. “Burn him!” Another roared. Odin could see that Tyr wouldn’t allow death to meet the wolf, so Odin hatched a plan to test Tyr’s loyalty and deal with the wolf.

Iron chains were brought to the wolf, and the Gods told him they wished to play a game to test his growth and strength. Tyr’s presence calmed the wolf, and so he agreed. The Gods bound him then stood back, smiling with triumph. Then the fetters broke. The terror was palpable; Tyr celebrated with the wolf.

Chains of the finest damascus were sought after and brought before the Wolf, the Gods asking another round of the game. Tyr’s growing concern wasn’t unnoticed by Fenrir, yet he agreed. He was eager to see his limits. Once more, the Gods smiled thinking they were triumphant until, after a fair struggle, the damascus finally caved in.

Odin sent for the finest dwarven craftsmen, begging them for a way to bind the wolf permanently. After some consideration, and a hefty price - for even the dwarves understood how grave and blasphemous an ask they were being demanded of - the dwarves agreed and sent Odin to collect the ingredients they would need. Once Odin returned from his travels with the ingredients in hand, the dwarves got to work. Within a month, the chains were completed. The dwarves warned Odin as he walked away; “What you have asked is an affront to nature. The chains will one day break; will you still be willing to pay the price then?” Odin paid them no mind.

The final fetters were shown to Fenrir. Only Odin smiled; the other Gods stared in horror, for why was the Allfather showing a ribbon to the wolf? Tyr’s terror was so strong that Fenrir could smell that something was up. Odin asked for another round; the wolf denied. “How am I to trust that what you ask is a fair game?” Odin, no stranger to lying, told the wolf; “Why would I challenge you if it was not fair?” The wolf did not buy it. The more the wolf refused, the more Odin fought back - and as he fought, the angrier he got. Tyr feared that Odin would hurt the wolf, and Fenrir knew. For Tyr, he relented. “I will only allow this if one of you is willing to risk your hand.”

This ask made the Gods freeze. Even Odin dare not speak; he had no need to. He watched as Tyr observed his allies. With a sigh, Tyr raised his hand. Fenrir was surprised; Tyr explained “If this is a fair game, then I have nothing to lose.” With that, the wolf was shackled and Tyr placed his hand inside the Wolf’s maw. At Odin’s word, Fenrir began his struggle. In an instant, boiling hot agony flooded his body as the fetter wound tighter with each thrash. Lost in the pain, Fenrir gritted his teeth and - in turn - took Tyr’s hand off. Tyr fell to the floor, screaming in agony while the Gods cheered. Furious, for him and his brother, Fenrir snapped at the Gods, desperate to protect Tyr. Odin took a sword and jammed it through Fenrir’s snout, pinning him to the ground. The Gods pulled Tyr away, as Tyr pleaded for release to comfort the whining Fenrir.

Fenrir was left alone, deep in a cavern in Asgard. Isolated, cold, pained, hungry, thirsty, tired, dirty. He waited years on end, until one day… the binds broke. Fenrir lifted his head from the ground, carefully removing the sword and spitting it to the ground. He did not move, instead curling up and allowing himself to lick his wounds and rest. Fenrir would spend the next few days hunting, discovering that a harsh winter had taken his food with the summer. In the cave, Fenrir considered everything. He pondered and contemplated, his eyes drifting to the chains.

When the Gods next saw Fenrir, Odin was dismayed to see him free. Then came the confusion; even Jormungandr and Loki stared. In the Wolf’s jaws were the binds that had bound him and the sword Odin had used on him. Fenrir came to a halt in front of Odin, gently dropping the items at Odin’s feet. Fenrir stared down the God; “You are truly pathetic to think I would sink to your depravity. You issued a challenge; you lost. Your fear and loss is enough for me. But next time, I will not be so merciful.”

If Ragnarok was to come, Fenrir decided it was not today, not at his hand. As he walked away, he paused by Tyr. Tyr fell to his knees, crying and begging the Wolf’s forgiveness. Fenrir looked back to the Gods; “Be grateful I have decided to spare you in hopes you’ll leave me be, instead of killing you all right now.” Turning to Tyr, the wolf frowned, his heart breaking seeing his brother. “When you are ready, brother, you know where to find me.” And with that, Fenrir left. He was tired and hungry; he had no tolerance for war today.

[incongruence-osaf]

EXCITING NEWS, SECRETS SHARED

Hello!! It is time for me to officially post the first two chapters of my first ever multi-chapter fanfiction story, The Incongruence of Stars and Flowers!!!

So far the word count has reached over 8,000 words, roughly 21 pages at 1.15 spacing (including the current WIP of Chapter Three). This was a huge challenge for me that I am so glad to have started. I'd been keeping this (mostly) a secret for many months during a collaborative creative process.

It started when I saw an application for Sonic Big Bang 2024 zine on Tumblr. Around 300 participants of fellow writers, artists and readers were sorted into secret groups of 2-4ish for developing writing and artwork surrounding story submissions! I had the pleasure of being paired with wonderful artists who made beautiful sketches, concept art, and illustrations based on my writing, linked here: @major-wren (ART) (ART) and @pastelspindash (ART)

Go check out their awesome art (and writing) as well as all the other amazing creatives featured in the zine on the official blog page @sthbigbang! My awesome and very helpful beta readers were/are @starredfishing (Tumblr) and @zaffretension (Instagram) who gave me excellent advice about dialogue, pacing, and plot. THANK YOU!!!

And also a big THANK YOU to the moderators of this expansive event for keeping it running so smoothly, for organizing everything, and for encouraging all of us in one of the most supportive and energizing creative environments I've ever been apart of!!! I have talked to many cool and talented people and I love the community that we have all been growing as a massive group.

I am excited to continue the adventure of learning, reading, and writing to see where this adventure goes with familiar characters. If you are too, I hope you enjoy <3

Without further ado, below is the summary for The Incongruence of Stars and Flowers.

This alternate universe combines the vibrant world and history of Sonic the Hedgehog with our very own, resulting in a version of Planet Mobius that’s both familiar and distant. Yet, this altered reality is neither idealized nor greater than the sum of its parts. 

Anthropomorphic beings, humans, and animals of Mobius are struggling to rebuild their cityscapes, ecosystems, communities, and personal lives in the wake of the cumulative devastation of the Perfect Chaos Flood and the Black Arms Invasion. Shadow the Hedgehog takes a leave of absence from G.U.N. to temporarily settle down in Station Square, laying low after the world-shattering encounter with his alien DNA donor Black Doom. While the cityfolk around him undergo the growing pains of instability, nonconformity, sociological upheaval, and corruption, so too does the alien hybrid. With the support of unyielding friendship in aloof activist Sonic the Hedgehog and cultured confidante Rouge the Bat, Shadow coasts in this new life chapter while feeling profound pulls to unravel memories surrounding his loving creator, Professor Gerald Robotnik and solve mysteries within his environment, mind, and body.

Past and present perspectives interweave to show slices of unordinary lives, drawing from early-to-mid 2000s culture shifts/natural disasters/political tensions, U.S. and European history, and various fields of science as inspiration for this multi-chapter science-fiction drama mystery.

PROMINENT CHARACTERS: 

Shadow the Hedgehog, Sonic the Hedgehog, Rouge the Bat, Professor Gerald Robotnik, Maria Robotnik, Black Doom(?), Commander Abraham Tower, Helen (from Sonic X)?, and new original character(s)

Body dysmorphia and dysphoria, racism/speciesism, internalized xenophobia, mentions and possible depictions of police violence, generational trauma, trauma and imagery from medicalized settings, processing grief

TRIGGER WARNINGS:

CHAPTER ONE HERE

[particular-one]

dropped your hand while dancing.

pairing. gepard landau x gn!reader cw. angst. hurt/no comfort. failed relationships. fluff to angst. passing mention of alcohol. marriage proposals. set after the events of the jarilo-vi trailblaze mission. author's note. this song destroys me every time i listen to it, soooo. if this fic ever sees the light of day, know that this stayed in the vault for terribly long. my debut solo geppie fic...! and its angst. whoopsies.

despite the absence of the morning sun, belobog was glowing in anticipation in celebration for one of, if not the biggest event that the city would hold for the year.

the cityfolk were crowding around the central plaza of belobog, excitedly chatting away for the display of romance that they will be seeing in less than an hour as others continued to fix the decorations in the area. from a distance, the children were running amok near where the snacks were located just as their parents exasperatedly tried to get them to behave.

and you were in the middle of all that bustle, your grip snaked around the stem of your champagne glass and a faraway smile on your face at the sight of it all.

it was the wedding today. and it was everything you imagined and hoped it could be — and even more.

silks as white as belobog's snow proliferated every part of the venue, decorated with blue petals that you can only surmise as gepard's favorite flowers. the captain, no matter how much he enjoyed doing so, was terrible at gardening. the first time he told you about it, you had laughed in his face, watching as his ears turned red in embarrassment as he tried to hide his reaction.

how exactly did you and gepard meet? you hailed from the underworld, so your judgement about silvermane guards had been clouded. everything was scarce down in the underworld, thus, you did not exactly have the most fulfilling of lives in the past. natasha had been your parental figure since you were a child, but even the promise of her protection was not enough to hinder you from wanting to leave jarilo-vi.

when the fateful day had arrived, you remembered how your heartbeat quickened in pace as you raced up to the overworld — only to be greeted by the incarnation of the sun himself, just as how you remembered thinking when you first laid eyes on gepard.

he had been leading the silvermane guards in ensuring the smooth entry of the underworld citizens when the both of you locked eyes for a little too longer than a minute. needless to say, you were drawn to the captain of the silvermane guards against your own judgements.

and he was too, you knew that for sure.

you were dragged away from daydreaming too much just as someone bumped into you — a young girl, probably around the age of twelve, donned with two brown pigtails in her hair who shouted an apology to your direction (probably because she bumped into you), before she disappeared the other way. almost right after her, a young boy, the same age as her, was shouting for her to stop running, but you could see that unmistakable smile in that boy's face that you could probably assume as affection.

you could definitely forgive a little lover's chase.

your hands had been flipping through the parchments that supposedly included the map of the vast universe — or at least, only the planets existing in the data archives — that you had traded your credits for when you felt a pair of calloused hands wrap around your eyes.

“guess who?” you laughed, knowing very well that only one person in the world would dare to do this to you. “i know it’s you, gepard.”

your lover chuckled at the sound of his name, before you felt that small peck on your head and his fingers intertwining with your free hand as gepard took the seat adjacent to you. “what are you up to?”

your other hand had been preoccupied with tracing the path of nearby planets to jarilo-vi, the ripples in the paper creating the feeling of excitement as your finger brushed across the map. you could feel gepard’s eyes on you as you didn’t respond, only engrossed in what was right in front of you.

whether or not the captain seemed to mind that you didn’t answer him, gepard simply squeezed your hand in his, just as you could hear him move closer to you. “you got another map?”

“yup! who would have thought there were neighboring planets near us? if i could just save up enough credits… i’ll be off on the next ship away from this planet.” the prospect of escaping the planet had long allured you when you were child; quite inevitably, you still hadn’t lost sight of your goal to get away from your home planet, desperate to seek out another that wouldn’t let you down like jarilo-vi has.

gepard hummed amicably in your excitement, though you had half-expected that he’d share something else to your own musings, just like he always did. “is something on your mind, geppie?”

“no, no. everything’s fine." his words spoke with utmost reassurance, but the same reassurance didn’t quite seem to reach his eyes. you could feel a pit of uncertainty in your stomach, but you didn’t know if it was right to push; so, you simply turned back to your map.

“one day, i’ll definitely fulfill my dreams and start my life the day i’m away from here!” you boasted in pride, just as you see your love stare at you with an expression that you could never quite comprehend that night.

you had downed your third champagne of the event, just as you absentmindedly set down the empty glass on the table where the rest of the food sat. you barely even caught a whiff of the roasted poultry, but your stomach already grumbled at the pristine sight of the delectable food enclosed inside the chafing dish.

even as you hear the silvermane guards curse about the lopsided flower decoration that looked like it was about to fall, even when you overheard that the officiant of the wedding seemed to be running late, everything still looked perfect.

and you could only assume that it was gepard’s own doing. he would want this day to be something to be remembered, after all.

you had been too engrossed in your latest reads that you hadn’t realized that it was an hour past midnight if it wasn’t for the multitude of buzzing notifications coming from your phone.

naturally, it came from your partner, with countless ones that asked where you were and if you had eaten. your stomach grumbled at the thought; clearly, you had not.

so there you were, dragging your feet as you hurriedly ran back home — the shared quarters that you shared with gepard. you had only moved in with him several months into your relationship which … took a lot of convincing from gepard’s part.

he really wanted to try living with you, he had pleaded. and you found it difficult to say no to him when he looked so excited about the promise of it all.

your hand twisted the handle of the door, trying to quietly enter so as not to wake gepard up. the lights were closed, so you had figured that he might have been asleep.

swinging the door open, you tiptoed your way into the place that gepard had referred to as the living room. your body was aching from running out in the rigid cold weather, so all you wanted was to sink yourself into the velvety couch, but you didn't expect to see gepard sprawled over in the couch, no doubt fast asleep.

right in front of him sat two plates of belobog sausage with a messy pile of rice. though one of the plates included a half-eaten sausage and barely any trace of the rice, the other remained untouched, almost as if it were waiting for someone.

you. gepard had been waiting to eat with you.

guilt crept up to you, as you took a bite of the food that he prepared for you. it was no longer warm, as you had anticipated — which only meant that he had been waiting for a while before you finally came home.

"hey, hey geppie." you were gently shaking his shoulder just as you could feel him stir under your touch. "thanks for the food. i .... i'm sorry i didn't answer your calls." though gepard didn't fully awaken, you could feel his shoulders tense before visibly relaxing at the sound of your voice. "mmm,,... love you, y/n." he murmured, before you could hear the faint beginning of his snores.

no doubt, he was tired. you had leaned over to give him a quick kiss on the head, just like he always did, but stopped midway. your hands were grazing the side of his face, before pulling away to instead drape a blanket over his sleeping form.

i love you too, gepard, you thought.

you didn't understand what had stopped you, nor why you couldn't find the voice to return his words, but you simply chalked it up to your torpor. not before long, your own exhaustion finally caught up to you and claimed you as you fell into a deep slumber.

"y/n?" the familiar voice of gepard's sister brought you away from your thoughts, as you whirled around to see serval, carrying her guitar in one hand and a couple papers in the other. your eyes widened when she ran over to envelop you in a warm embrace, holding all of those items and all. you had almost expected that she would ... well, never mind that.

"you're here! i... i'm- well, this is a pleasant surprise." you had allowed yourself to smile just as serval studied you intently. "of course. i wouldn't miss this for the world." a bitter laugh spilled from your lips, and you had only hoped that serval was not as perceptive as usual.

"well— i need to finish handing these out, but let's chat later, alright?" serval, as jovial as ever. you had almost anticipated the cold shoulder with how things had culminated, but she didn't.

but somehow, you wished that serval did. or more importantly, he would. maybe it would make the pain of forgetting a little less unbearable.

the day you had been waiting for finally arrived. at last, you had almost enough credits to buy your way out of jarilo-vi and start your life elsewhere. the tantalizing thought of fulfilling your lifelong dream had kept you on your toes, but the excitement was even more magnified when you remembered your anniversary with gepard, who had promised you a night to remember.

"what's all this?" to say that you were surprised was an understatement; your quarters, once a messy pile of armor, plates and nearly wilted flowers, had been transformed into a place befitting a romantic candlelight dinner.

which was ... also what gepard had prepared, as he stood in front of the table with a bashful smile. he had been holding a bouquet of fresh red roses, that his hand stretched out to hand to you. "it's for you. happy anniversary, beloved."

there were two glasses of champagne in front of your seats, along with a plate of— "is that stone-grilled olm?!" you exclaimed, to which gepard's smile shone brighter than the sun at the sound of your excitement. "i thought this was discontinued?!"

gepard only chuckled. "i may.. have pulled a few strings." you set the bouquet down as you took your seat across gepard. oh, you can already feel your stomach grumbling. "let's eat?"

you hadn't replied to him anymore, only digging in like a ravenous monster devouring its prey. you had missed the food served in the underworld, as most of them had discontinued their services after they found work in more in-demand places. you hadn't realized that gepard was just watching you eat, a small smile playing on his lips before disappearing when you let out a sound of confusion.

"you're not going to eat?" you asked, midway through a spoonful of olm in your mouth. gepard shook his head. "i, i will. in a bit." he took a sip from his glass, but his gaze never left you. you suddenly grew self-conscious, as you slowed your pace in eating the food.

"hey, y/n—" "yes?" your head snapped up, to gepard's surprise. silence fell between the both of you, before he cleared his throat to continue. "i... well, happy anniversary." you chuckled, as your fork speared through a piece of olm. "you already told me that, silly."

you had not expected to see gepard looking so nervous though, almost as if he had been hiding something. your eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion, before transforming into a more tender concern. "everything alright, geppie?"

before you knew it, gepard had reached over to hold your hand, his gaze finally meeting yours head on. "y/n. i... i know it had only been a little over two years that we had been together but it.. it has only strengthened my resolve more than anything." you didn't understand where all of this were coming from. "geppie..."

"you... you mean the entire universe to me. you are my sun, my moon and my stars. i... i know that you have your plans of leaving this city, and i understand and completely respect your decision but... i have never felt this strongly about someone, and i don't think i ever will for anyone else."

you only thought that these kind of things only happened in the tales that natasha would read to you during bedtime, but here it was unfolding, as you watched gepard get down in one knee before finally unveiling what he had been obviously hiding behind his back.

a ring. a beautiful diamond encrusted ring that you can only imagine costed millions of credits.

and it was for you.

"y/n, would you make me the happiest man alive and be my spouse?"

you could stare at gepard, mouth agape and a tidal wave of emotions threatening to sink you down from where you sat. "gepard, i—"

"we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of the captain of the silvermane guard, gepard landau and his spouse..."

of course. the wedding was starting. you blinked back tears just as you made your way to where you had resigned yourself to when you broke the captain's heart: in the sidelines.

even when half a decade has passed, you could never forget the night that gepard proposed to you with bated excitement in his eyes, you could never forget how you raised your voice in incredulity at him at the prospect of settling down in this forsaken planet, you could never forget how his sun-like smile twisted into a heartbroken frown as you uttered the word that shattered all his dreams.

you had said no to him that night, all because you did not want to be shackled down in the planet that you had made a long-standing pact to yourself to leave.

and now, you were paying the price for your own foolishness as you watched gepard marry another.

it was the first time since you saw gepard since you closed the door on him, as he stood at the end of aisle and fitted in the most stunning white suit that complemented his features. his hair had been parted in a way that made his look even more formal, but you somehow missed the tousled curls that were all over his face.

he still looked handsome as ever, which just made your heart clench in pain. you had taken the best thing in your life for granted, after all.

when you left jarilo-vi at last, all you were filled with was regret in leaving him behind. though you had earnestly enjoyed living in a different planet, you’d sometimes think about the domestic exchanges you shared with gepard during the time you were together.

when you had received a mail signed under landau, your heart had simply raced in excitement, only to fall flat on the ground when you read the contents of the invitation.

your thoughts had drowned out the words of the officiant, as your eyes only followed one person alone. gepard was standing in front, his hands joined with his would-be partner. despite the absence of the morning sun, you could have sworn the entire venue could have been lit up by gepard's smile alone.

you remembered how happy he got whenever you compared his smile to the sun. he never stopped smiling at you, afterward.

"do you, gepard landau, take auberon chevalier as your lawfully wedded spouse?” right as the officiant finished his words did gepard’s eyes finally meet yours, and it was almost as if the both of you were transported back to the first time you met each other.

gepard’s eyes seemed to widen at the sight of you, that you noticed that he never replied to the officiant’s words. “captain landau?” the crowd seemed perturbed at the sudden pause, just as you could feel your heart beat loudly against your chest.

there was a hint of despondency in his eyes as he met yours, and you could feel your breath hitch. in truth, you had half expected that the reason why you decided to show up to his wedding in the very planet you swore never to return to was to change his mind, but looking at him right now … you knew that would have been such a selfish thing to do.

“sorry, i do.” after a few moments, you watched as gepard finally managed to tear his gaze away from you. the officiant seemed relieved that nothing seemed to be going awry and continued on. “and do you, auberon chevalier…”

still, despite all— you were happy that someone had picked up gepard’s heart after you had impetuously stomped all over his, something you could never forgive yourself for.

even when the sight before you tore your heart to shreds, you were unbelievably happy that gepard had found someone he would feel so strongly about, and most importantly, someone who would not drop his heart like how you did.

you hadn’t realized that the officiant had finally pronounced them as spouses to one another until you heard the crowd go wild in cheers. gepard had finally kissed his spouse, as the people around you grew even wilder in screams.

in another life, you thought to yourself just as you finally stopped blinking back the tears that had threatened to spill from your eyes.

in another life, if i could love him again, i’d love him right this time.

written by carlyle (@particular-one) copyright: all content belongs to particular-one on tumblr (2023)

[a-thousand-attempted-words]

So you wanna write better

Forests!

Dont worry, its not that hard! By the end of this, you'll most likely have some extra juicy ideas on all the things you can put into your forrest scenes (from a certified "I live next to a forest and also studied this" person).

Ive divided this into Emotions, Smell, Sound, Sight and Feel. Scroll to whichever part you need help with!

The literal forest

Forests are places of change in literature. That doesnt mean every forest needs to change your protagonist. But because they are often vast, unclaimable and dangerous - not to mention mythical and powerful, primal and maybe divine - they tend to have an effect on your protagonist.

A place of change (or power) can mean many things, and depending on your story and your stories culture, this might not apply. But generally speaking, a forest is a large and uncomprehensibly complex thing that provides an opportunity to face nature.

But! Remember that this thinking stems from the culture vs. nature debate in literature and you do not have to follow it.

The natural forest

Emotions

By day, a forest looks very different than by night. Its almost a beast in itself, a gnawing machine that does not care for you.

How does your protagonist feel by day, when everything is bright and loud and endless and green? When water gurgles and birds chirp at them. How do they feel by night, when lack of light makes shadows endless and the reduced sounds echo in a vast and uncaring void? Does their campfire provide enough warmth against the elements? Do they have lanterns, flashlights, specialty goggles that allow them to see? The forest creaks and shouts without them needing to witness it, it echoes and enlarges sounds, swallows them too. Are they familiar with that? Does their heart raise at the foreigness of it all?

Horror

Remember that cityfolk tend to be freaked out by forests much more than ruralfolk. Remember that sounds that could be familiar to you (the creaking of wood with heat and cold, the strange chirps of birds, the blubbering of a spring) could be completely foreign to another. Remember that everything Ive written from here on out relies heavily on familiarity. Remember that the size of a forest also determines how calming it is.

How far are you from civilisation? Who could come to help you? Which animals are out there? Which familiar sights arent around you at the moment?

A forest that leaves you stranded and closed off from civilisation is terrifying to everyone who doesnt know the land. It is a maw. It could bite down any moment. A forest without signs, without manmade paths, without civilisation is a place to die in. Or a place to get lost in. The horror of the forest is the forest itself. Its the fact that you dont know it. It is the fact that it is an endless stretch of unknown that does not care for you.

Sound

Forests are incredibly "loud" in a subtle way. There are always birds, insects, the wind in the leafs, the steps of animals over wood, leafs, water. You can listen to some birdcalls online (some of them are super strange) or search on sites like freesound.org for natural recordings of forests to grasp just how much fucking Sound™ there is. Silence in a forest means bad things. Are the animals dead? Hiding? Where did all the insects go? If there isnt any buzzing, are there still worms? Bugs? What happened to the wind? If your forest is silent, thats a choice. Employ it!

Smell

Forests tend to smell "fresh". I know, that degree really serves me. But in all honesty: You are walking through a natural lung. The air is being filtered 24/7. Forests literally breathe like you and I do and they are excellent at it. If you are closer to running water this increases. After rain, the air has qualities of that grass scent you know from your garden. You also smell a lot of rot. Leafs, trees, dying plants. They tend to smell good to us. The only time that rot becomes unbearable is (afaik) two cases:

The carcass that is rotting is an animal of larger size. Small sized animals dont "smell" unless you're very close to them. And most animals that are small get taken by scavengers. You wont find them rotting, because they will be eaten before you get there. Its only once the carcass is so large that it cant be eaten at once or fast or it has some venomous qualities that you will find rot.

The other options is rot in still water. It wont smell immediately, but still water tends to take on scent after a few days. The scent of still water should be familiar to you from old puddles or algae infested waters. It will be ridden with bacteria and - and dont forget about this - larvae! Amphibians and insects love some stiller waters for that stuff.

Sight

This might be easiest: You've probably seen a forest in your lifetime. I wont bore you with "green leafs" and "blue skies". Instead, lets go over some more uncommon scenarios, often forgotten:

Moss. Moss is everywhere. Its on stones, on wood, on treebarks. There are over a hundred different species of moss. Google them. Moss in itself is a little eco system.

Treewounds (also known as tree cancer). Trees get nibbled on. They get scratched at. They have sicknesses. And then they tend to grow in these tumor looking things. Apart from that, they can have gaping open wounds from broken off branches, from birds pecking into them, from insects infesting them. Trees paint the history and the health of a forest. Take time to mention what they look like.

Pathways. Even if no human (or other protagonist species) has ever set food into your forest. There will be paths in the undergrowth. Paths often traveled by many tiny paws. They tend to lead to other such paths, to water, sometimes to good food sources and to gathering places. You need to train your eye a little but you'll find them.

Nests. For insects, for birds, for everyone involved. Clusters of larvae under bark or stone or attached to ferns, swimming in water, nestled into mud. Birdnests placed into treeholes and cliffsides. Holes in the ground that lead to mice, rabbits, you name it.

Feel

What does a forest feel like? That depends. Bark is incredibly textured. It has valleys and hilltops, it swirls under your fingers like a miniature map of cartography. No bark is the same. Birches are flat, fruit trees are coarser and the older the tree, the gnarlier it is. Look at pictures of trees and look at the bark. Stones can be all kinds of coarse and rough but they are so much softer when overgrown with moss. They are almost like pillows. The pathways are often soft soil, compressed by hundreds of feets. They might have stones in them. Waterbeds are muddy and soft, but oftentimes carry pebbles and other uncomfortable rocks in them. Mud itself is like a very soft peeling. Most dirt in waterbeds has been washed clean and soft by time. The newer a waterbed, the coarser it is. The middle of the riverbed will always be harsher than the sides. Mud deposits as sediment after all. Clay feels soft too. Sticking your feet and hands into the muddier parts of a river is always a gamble. There might be something living there. Be aware.

Oh look, a transition

Hope this helps anyone! Have a great day :)

If you have any further questions or suggestions, do ask!

[eb0ny-raven]

“You look pretty good for a corpse.” The villain's voice broke through the silence behind the hero. They tensed for a moment. The hero glanced behind them from their cross-legged sitting position on the ledge, but blinked and turned back to the crowd below.

“So do you.”

“Are you okay-y’know, with this?” The villain rested a hand on the hero’s shoulder and felt it rise with their breath.

The hero’s exposed skin flushed with goosebumps when a lazy gust of wind blew over the roof. The chilly air stung even the villain, who wore a thick black coat and gloves.

“I will be.” They answered, releasing the air, still focused on the mass of people. They’d gathered to mourn their hero, bundled in dark clothing and packed together in the streets. Some sang in solidarity, voices echoing through alleyways and open windows.

Small lights—either flame or flash—dotted among them, flickering in the cool breeze, especially as the sun drowned below the skyline. “I will be.”

The villain took a few steps to the edge, then settled next to the hero and dangled xer legs in free air. Xe didn’t know wether to reach out to the hero with warm assurances and a kind smile, or something closer to the witty banter the two shared over the years, but xe knew they weren’t as experienced with this kind of loneliness, and anything would be better than letting their feelings fester. “So, do you—“

“Was this the right thing to do?” The hero asked, head abruptly turned to face the villain, their hair and stocking cap slightly obscured their face.

“The right thing?”

“Yeah.”

The confusion in the hero’s voice quickly shut down any quirky retort building on xer lips.

On any other day, the villain might have poked fun at their indecision.“If you’re asking me, you must be really grasping at straws.” They instead responded with the truth.

“I think it was the only thing.”

The hero’s eyes fell back to the street, where the citizens had now gathered in front of the capitol building, where a small woman, the Mayor, stood proudly, probably shivering, but still preaching from a modest podium.

In the news, they’d seen the plans for a new memorial. Create a bronze statue in their central park, then name said central park in honor of their fallen hero.

“But what if I miss it?” They whispered, like even the utterance of such a thought filled them with shame.

It nearly broke the villain’s heart.

Xe took off one of their gloves, and grabbed one of the hero’s hands in xer own. The feeling burned the hero’s skin, such a sudden warmth into their palm.

“You might, but you’ll move on. And so will they.”

The hero let out a shaky breath, releasing a cloud of frozen vapor into the air, and nodded. The two settled into a comfortable silence, listening to the crowd below. The villain caught glimpses of a smile whenever the cityfolk cheered, and as a few minutes past, xe noticed the hero’s posture relax (as much as it could in the cold).

“Oh!” The villain suddenly broke the silence with a hand slap to xer forehead.

“What?” The hero rolled their eyes and playfully bumped the villain’s shoulder.

“I completely lost track of why I came out here.” xe quickly got up and walked to where they had interrupted the hero’s presence in the beginning.

The hero turned around and laughed as the villain picked up a bundle of dark fabric. “I was out here,” xe started, gathering the cloth and making xer way back to the ledge, “because I thought you might’ve wanted this.” The hero took the woolen bundle from the villain and shook it out.

“A coat?” They scoffed, “and here I thought you came out to hassle me about being dead.”

“Takes one to know one,” the villain smiled back, flashing xer teeth, “sides’, don’t want you actually dying out here.” The hero shook their head but shrugged on the coat. The villain settled back beside them.

“Is this one of yours?” They asked, eyeing the sleeves, an eyebrow raised.

“…no.” The villain swallowed a smile and tried to stop heat from flushing xer face.

“I wouldn’t mind if it was, y’know.”

“Well—it’s not. Sorry.” The villain covered in short, awkward bursts. The hero dropped their eyebrow in exchange for the thin-lipped smile. They sighed and leaned against the villain, head resting on their shoulder.

“Bummer.”

[crystalninjaphoenix]

The Morning is Sure to Come

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Thirty-Four

A JSE Fanfic

A lot of stuff happens in this one, and I'm not really sure how to describe it. Chase talks with his kids some more, and then falls asleep and has another dream with Jack, where he learns some more about the situation that was revealed last time. And meanwhile, Henrik, Jackie, and Marvin are getting close to Suilthair and scouting it out, looking for Chase and Jameson. Huh. Guess it wasn't as difficult as I thought. Anyway, with the summary done, I'll leave you to it. Enjoy! :D

Previous Part | | From the Start | More AU

Taglist: @brokentimewatch

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two more days, and Chase and Jameson were still stuck hiding in the abandoned boathouse. They passed the time with Chase giving Jameson lessons on some combat maneuvers. It was strange without actual weapons, but Jameson appreciated it nonetheless. Surprisingly, he remembered a lot of these moves, either from his time at Wyvernlair or his youth when he was learning self-defense. But he was a bit rusty actually going through the motions.

“There has to be somewhere to get weapons in the city,” Chase muttered. “At this point, I think I can go out without too much suspicion. If I’m careful and come right back.”

Do you have any money? Jameson asked. I don’t, and I know weapons shops have high security.

“Damn. You’re right. It’s too risky to steal them. I could ask Amabel for money—no, I don’t want to do that.” Chase shook his head. “She’d probably take it from Stacia, a-and she might get in trouble, and I don’t want that.”

It’s fine, Jameson said. We’re doing well enough without them.

“For now,” Chase muttered. “Eventually we need to find a way off this island. And when we make our escape, we need to be prepared for a fight.”

Even though they couldn’t go out into town to get weapons, Chase started going around for other reasons. Gathering more information, mostly. Trying to find that way out of Suilthair. If there was one good thing about the week he wasted wandering around the city, it was that he developed a reputation. The common folk recognized him. They knew he was one of them and that the biggest danger he posed to anyone was asking for money. There was no reason to report someone like him to the royal warriors. He was pretty harmless in their eyes. Chase still had to worry about avoiding patrols, but at least he didn’t have to worry about everything.

Unfortunately, nobody he talked to knew of any way out of Suilthair besides the ferry. They were all quite insistent on that. Chase wondered if this was, perhaps, caused by the King’s enchantment influence. Maybe by making people want to stay in the city, he made them forget anything besides the official ferries? But surely there had to be smugglers or something. Who was he supposed to ask about that? Probably people who were more dangerous than the average cityfolk. Were they desperate enough to do that yet? No... maybe not. But in a couple more days, they might be.

Amabel continued to stop by every morning and evening. Chase was always happy to see her, even if he was getting more and more worried. If she kept doing this, someone would eventually notice where she was going. “Amy, are you sure this is safe?” he asked. 

“Mm-hmm.” Amabel nodded. “I’m sure.”

“Alright,” Chase said hesitantly. “But if it gets too dangerous, if people see you come here, I want you to stop.”

Amabel blinked. “Huh? No, I’m not gonna stop.”

“Amabel, I’m serious,” Chase said firmly. “What me and Jameson are doing is really dangerous, we don’t want you caught up in it.”

“You haven’t even told me what it’s all about!”

“Because you’re safer if you don’t know anything,” Chase said. He paused for a moment, trying to think about a way to explain that there was a chance the King could hear her thoughts if she got in too much trouble. “The people we’re up against have ways—magical ways—to find stuff out, even if you’re very, very careful. But if you really don’t know what they’re talking about, then they can’t do anything.”

Amabel stared at him. “Do you mean they’d hurt me?”

Chase was quiet for a moment. He didn’t want to tell his daughter that yes, the people out there would hurt her. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe.” When the King sent the warriors to their home, they didn’t kill the children. But he wasn’t sure if that was because the King—or, the spirit controlling the King, as he had to remind himself—really didn’t want to cross that line, or if it was simply because he was focusing on eliminating the adult man who would defeat him one day.

Amabel was also quiet upon hearing that. Then she nodded. “Okay. I promise I’ll stop coming to see you if I think people see me. I don’t want anything to happen to Quentin or Mom without me.”

Chase gives her a small, sad smile. “You know you don’t have to be responsible for them, right?”

“Yeah, but... I wanna be there,” Amabel said slowly. “To, uh... Because...” She trailed off, unable to put words to the feelings she had.

Because you care about them? Jameson asked.

“Yea! Thank you, uh, Mr. Jameson,” Amabel said. “Oh. Dad. Quentin wants to come by tomorrow morning. Remember, you said I could bring him?”

“O-of course I remember,” Chase said. “Be very careful, it’ll be worse if both of you get in trouble.”

“Don’t worry, I can do it,” Amabel promised.

“Okay. In that case, I’ll see both of you tomorrow.”

The rest of that day passed without much of note, and tomorrow morning, Jameson shook Chase awake a bit earlier than normal. Your children are coming, he said, pointing to the ajar boathouse door.

Chase got up quickly and opened the door fully. It was a cloudy day today, but not gloomy. Even with the weak early morning light he could clearly see Amabel walking down the wooden walkway towards the boathouse, holding her brother’s hand in hers. Quentin waved at Chase, smiling when he saw him, and almost shouted a greeting before Amabel leaned close and murmured something to him.

Your children are both so cute, Jameson said, smiling.

“Hah. Thanks. Quentin takes more after his mother, y’know. He has her hair exactly.”

The kids walked up to the boathouse door, and the moment they were inside Quentin shouted, “DAD!” and tackled Chase in a hug.

“Whoa!” Chase pretended to stumble back from the force of the hug, then laughed and leaned down to hug his son. “Hey, Quen. Wow, you’ve gotten so much bigger and stronger.”

“Really?!” Quentin beamed. He looked over at Jameson. “Hi! Bellie says your name is Jameson and you speak in hands. Is that true?!”

Jameson chuckled silently and nodded. Can you understand me?

“Uh... I think you asked if I know handspeak, and I mean, a little. Bellie is better at it.”

“That’s me.” Amabel raised her hand.

Thank you, young lady, I did think that’s what he meant.

“Heh.” Amabel grinned.

“I’m so happy to see you, Dad!” Quentin squeezed him tighter.

“I’m so happy to see you, too.” Chase wrapped his arms around Quentin and lifted him into the air, causing him to shriek with delight. He was a bit too big for this to be easy, but Chase didn’t care, if he could make it work he would. “Now, did Amabel tell you that I’m not staying forever?”

Quentin nodded. “She said you were really busy and that you couldn’t talk about it because it’s secret, even from Mom. Is that why Mom is mad at you? Because she doesn’t like secrets?”

“...hah.” Chase gave a sad little smile. “Your Mom doesn’t even know about the secret. She thinks that I left you guys because I wanted to. But I didn’t.” He blinked back tears. “I promise, I didn’t want to leave you guys. I’ve been trying to find you for a long time.”

“Why can’t we come with you?” Quentin asked, whining a little.

“Because this is grown-up stuff, Quentin. It’s no place for someone like you.”

“Because I’m too sick all the time?” Quentin grumbled.

“No, that’s not it at all.” Chase shook his head. “I’m not letting Amabel come, either. The problem is that you’re both too little. It’s not something shallow like you getting sick. I’ve told you, that doesn’t change what you can want to do.”

“Hmmm.” Quentin frowned, a thoughtful expression on his little face, then nodded. “Okaaaay... I get it. But I really miss you, Dad.”

“I know, I miss you so much, too.” Chase looked at Amabel. “Both of you.” Then he set Quentin down. “I have to leave soon, you know. It might be really sudden. I might not have the chance to say goodbye. Do you two know that?”

Amabel nodded slowly. Quentin looked at her and nodded as well. But maybe he was just copying what she did.

“If that happens, it’s not because I don’t love you two, or your mom,” Chase continued. “It’s not because I don’t want to be around you or because I don’t miss you or because I’d rather be doing something else. It’s just... really unlucky that I had to leave and couldn’t say bye. This thing I’m doing is important. Not more important than you, in my mind, but it’s very important to a lot of people. And it’ll help you guys, too, though you might not understand how.”

“Okay, Dad,” Amabel said, nodding again more firmly.

“So... Mom is wrong?” Quentin asked.

Chase hesitated. “Mom isn’t really wrong, she’s just... made a mistake. But that’s okay.”

“Oh.” Quentin nodded along with Amabel again.

Chase laughed a little. “You two look like little chickens with your heads bobbing like that,” he said teasingly.

“Wha—Da-ad!” Amabel put her hands on her hips, while Quentin giggled at the image. “Fine, Dad, I guess I’m not gonna give you this food.”

“Ah, I’m sorry, Amy. It was just a joke.”

Amabel sighed. “I know. Here. We can have breakfast together. Or, I guess it’ll be a snack for us, we already ate.”

The group sat on the wooden floor of the boathouse and ate together. Quentin asked Jameson a lot of questions, and Chase translated Jameson’s handspeak answers when the boy struggled with them. Then, after what felt like a too-short time, Amabel and Quentin got up, said their goodbyes, and Amabel promised to see them again that evening. Chase watched them go, waving, trying not to show his sadness. As soon as they were out of sight, he fully closed the door, sighing.

Everything alright, Chase? Jameson asked.

“It just... gets harder to see them,” Chase said quietly. “Knowing that eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye again. I get this pang of... of grief.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “Right here. And it gets stronger every time.”

Jameson looked at him sadly. You know... my father once told me not to borrow grief from the future. I don’t think I understood what he meant until now.

“What did he mean?” Chase asked, confused.

You’re not leaving them yet, Chase, Jameson said. You will, but you’re not leaving them right now. You’ll just hurt yourself thinking about it. And you won’t be able to treasure this time together if you’re hurt.

Chase blinked. Something about that went straight into his core, hitting a ball of something that he didn’t even realize was there. “That... that makes sense,” he whispered. “Thanks, Jameson.”

Jameson smiled. Happy to help in any way.

The rest of the day passed as normal. Chase briefly wandered around a bit, returning by the time Amabel visited in the evening. Then he and Jameson talked about more possibilities of escape. But they were running short on topics, having already talked about this for so long, that they ended up going to bed early. Chase took the first watch. And when it was his time to sleep, he fell asleep right away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the first day of boating up the river, the group of Phantoms had to switch boats. The flatbed boat they’d used for traveling the Moors would be no good on the Muinra Avon. It wouldn’t be able to handle the more intense waves and deeper waters. Instead, they used a boat that looked like a miniature ship, once again borrowing it from a small group of people. They weren’t Phantoms, but they must have been sympathetic to the cause. Or maybe they were paid really well and were smart enough to not ask questions.

Henrik was in a bit of a daze for the whole trip. Not because of his symptoms, for once. It was hard to believe that he and Vsevna were really officially courting. And yet it was true. Something that Vsevna reminded him of on the morning of the fourth day of the trip by sneaking up on him and kissing him on the cheek. “Morning, sova.”

“Ah!” Henrik’s face turned very red. “Morning, Vsevna.” He couldn’t help the smile spreading across his mouth. “I, ah, I-I hear that we will be arriving at Suilthair today.”

“In the evening, yes.” Vsevna nodded. “We will have to talk about what to do there some more. But for now, we can enjoy the journey.”

“Indeed.” Henrik hesitated, then reached out and took Vsevna’s hand. “Do you want to show me around the new boat?”

Vsevna’s eye lit up. “Of course.”

The scenery passed surprisingly quickly, even though they were heading the opposite direction of the current. One of the sailors, Talinir, mentioned something about having a favorable wind. Jackie and Marvin spent most of their time on the deck, with Jackie continuing the training he was doing on the ship. Marvin just sat around, watching the sailors. Jackie tried to tease him for a moment about how he was watching one of the sailors, Mona, quite a lot, but Marvin just muttered something about how he had a cat mask first and how it just looked strange when two people whose names started with the M sound had the same kind of mask. “We look like we’re a pair, but I’ve never seen her before.” So Jackie shrugged that off, a bit sad that he couldn’t tease both his friends for having sweethearts.

Around late afternoon, the boat stopped for a moment, lowering its anchor. The Phantoms gathered in the center of the deck to discuss a plan. “I mentioned this a couple days ago,” Marvin said, “but I have the ability to see through my familiar’s eyes.” He pointed to Draco, lying in a patch of sunlight on the deck. “I think we need to use this somehow.”

“A way to scout the city?” one of the sailors, Jiro, suggested. The others murmured in agreement.

“Great idea, but how are we going to get Draco into Suilthair?” Jackie asked. “Can he just... find his way?”

“It is easy for small animals like cats and rats to get on ships without knowing,” Vsevna said. “I’m sure Draco could get onto the ferry easily enough.”

“Once he is in there, what are we going to look for?” Henrik asked. “Obviously we must find Chase and Jameson. But it is a big city, how will we know where to look? I do not think a cat could cover all of its ground in a single day.”

Marvin nodded slowly. “It doesn’t cost too much of my magic to look through his eyes. But if I keep it up consistently, that constant drain could stack up. But if you’re worried about leaving Draco alone in the city, I’m sure he’ll be fine. Familiars aren’t normal animals. I’m sure the only danger to him would be other familiars.”

“Even so... we cannot have you focusing on that all the time,” Henrik said. “You must rest sometimes.”

“What if we send Draco on one of the morning ferries, have him look around all day, and then come back on an evening ferry?” a sailor named Anya suggested. “That way Marvin could get some rest at night.”

Marvin nodded again. “I’m capable of that. But say that Draco finds Chase or Jameson. What then?”

“We have to have some way of communicating with them,” Jackie muttered. “Attach a note to his collar?”

“We don’t want any of the warriors reading it, though,” a sailor named Catherine points out. “D’you think we could write it in code?”

“I do not think that would work,” Henrik muttered. “Chase struggles with reading even now, and Jameson does not know any of our codes. They could both make mistakes.”

“Is there some magic that could work?” Jackie looked at Marvin specifically as he asked that.

“Wizards have ways of talking with each other over long distances, but it requires that all parties are wizards,” Marvin said. “I’m sure there’s some witchcraft that could work, though. I think I remember hearing about people in Drakild, that kingdom across the sea, using... stones, or something?”

“Message rocks,” Vsevna said. “I have also heard of them. I think I remember some of the runes you need for them.”

“Huh. Alright, Vsevna, you and me talk about this, maybe we can figure out the runes between us,” Marvin said. “And Henrik, you too. You’re familiar with witchcraft, you should be able to tell us if something makes sense or not.”

“That could work,” Henrik muttered. “We attach a message rock to Draco’s collar, and if he finds Chase and Jameson, they can use it. But... what if he does not find them? What if something has happened? Such as... I-I do not want to say it, but such as the King getting to them—”

“Shut up.”

Henrik flinched, avoiding the urge to look over his shoulder at the voice. He knew no one was standing behind him. He knew that. But... what if... what if there was someone on the shore? Someone listening in on their conversation?

Jackie put a hand on Henrik’s shoulder, steadying him. “Deep breaths,” he whispered. Henrik nodded. “You good?” Another nod. “Okay.” Jackie turned to face the group at large. “If the King’s got Chase and Jameson, we’ll have to make a plan to get them out. And that plan will depend a lot on whatever information we can gather. Such as where they’re being kept and what the defenses of that place is. Right now, we’re just in the initial planning and scouting phase. If it turns out they’re in hiding, we then have to plan on a way to get them out of the city, ideally without confrontation.”

The group all muttered in agreement. “We should get started as soon as possible,” Vsevna said. “Hopefully we can get these message rocks done in time to get Draco onto the evening ferry.”

They did, though just barely in time. By combining Vsevna and Marvin’s knowledge they’d heard about these message rocks with Henrik’s practical knowledge about witchcraft, they were able to create two talismans out of smooth, white pebbles with runes on them. Some of the sailors fashioned a small leather pouch for one of the rocks and attached it to Draco’s collar. He didn’t seem too happy about it at first, but he tolerated it.

Then the boat docked on the shore of the Green Lake. Marvin dropped Draco off on the land, giving him magical instructions to get onto the ferry and into the city, then activated the spell to see through his eyes, sitting down on the deck while he did so.

As Vsevna had said, it was easy enough for Draco to get onto the evening ferry. He hopped aboard at the last moment, and none of the crew or passengers had the heart to kick him off into the lake. And so, he got a free ride into Suilthair.

Marvin tried to think about where Chase and Jameson would be, if they were indeed in hiding and not captured. They wouldn’t be foolish enough to get an inn. And they probably wouldn’t want to be too close to the castle. “The neighborhoods, Draco,” he muttered, clutching his focus in his hand. Though his eyes and ears were seeing and hearing what his cat was, he could still feel his body sitting on the deck where he left it, and he could feel his amulet warming with magic. “Focus on checking out the neighborhoods.”

He knew he could keep up this spell all night. But he did hope that he wouldn’t have to keep it up for multiple nights in a row.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For once, when Chase woke up in the draísling, he wasn't in the garden he’s used to. It really threw him off for a second, and he wondered if this is a normal dream. But just thinking that question proved his point. He wasn’t this aware in normal dreams. So he looked around the location, trying to assess things. This was a hallway. A regal-looking hallway. It must have been one in the castle, but it looks different. Newer, somehow, the stone brighter and the tapestries fewer, but less worn. He tried getting a good look at them, but their images seemed to shift. The hallway ended in a pair of grand wooden doors, looking too heavy for a single person to open. It’s lucky that they were already open, then. And in front of them stood the deer.

Chase tried to ask what happened, why things had changed. But his voice wouldn’t work. Even so, the deer dipped its head, like it knew what he was asking. It turned around, facing the open doors, lowering its head and pointing forward with those golden antlers. Chase understood. He walked forward, past the deer, and into the room beyond.

He’d never seen this room before, but he knew what it was the moment he walked in. The castle’s throne room. Tall stone pillars lined the way down the long room, and a green carpet guided people towards the dais at the end of the room. Candles in sconces dotted every surface, making up for the lack of windows. The throne room didn’t have windows? That made sense, you wouldn’t want an assassin to shoot an arrow through a window, but still, even with all the candles lighting things up, the room looked... smaller than he expected. Windows would have helped.

At the end of the room was a dais shaped like a half-circle, with two steps leading up to it, covered in that green carpet. On the dais was a throne. It wasn’t gilt in gold or silver like thrones in stories. It was made of wood. But that didn’t mean it was any less grand. The whole thing somehow seemed to swirl, the wood carved into a willowy shape. Green velvet cushioned the seats, arms, and back. At the very top of the throne were three embedded jewels—two green with a blue one in between them—teardrop shaped with the points at the bottom, forming an overall shape like a budding flower.

A man was sitting on the throne. Jack. Chase recognized him, and tried not to shudder upon seeing the King’s face. Jack looked the same as he had for that brief moment in the last dream when Chase had seen him. Fine clothes that were now torn and bloodstained, chains wrapping around him. A manacle around each wrist connected to the throne’s armrests, and a thin metal collar around his neck connected him to the back of the throne. He was sitting slumped in the throne, but as Chase got closer, he raised his head. His blue eyes widened, shocked. “Y-you... came back...?” he whispered.

Chase walked up, stopping at the bottom of the dais. “Y-yea, of course I did,” he said. “I don’t really control the dreams.”

“You didn’t have to come into the room, though. You could’ve waited outside.”

“...I wouldn’t do that,” Chase said. He looked around the room again. “So... this is different.”

Jack laughed. “Yes. The nightmares change every so often. Just when I start getting used to it. I’m guessing it was deliberate this time, though. After all, you broke me out. I couldn’t be allowed to stay out.”

“...the spirit does this, doesn’t it?” Chase asked.

Jack blinked, surprised. “You... figured it out?”

“I did.” Chase nodded. “We found proof that the King’s eyes were blue as a child, but they’re green now. That’s not normal. Something has to cause that. And you’ve said you were imprisoned by the King. Well... I can’t think of a worse prison than being trapped in your own body.”

Jack slumped again, looking almost relieved. “I thought... you wouldn’t believe me if I told you...” he breathed.

“Maybe not,” Chase said. “But then... what would be the point of me having these dreams? I’m pretty sure that—Oh, I shouldn’t say too much, should I?” He glanced around.

“Probably not,” Jack said. “The spirit hears everything.”

“Well... I’ll say that I’m pretty sure something is giving me these dreams,” Chase said. “And if this was... a trap of some sort, and you were actually lying to me this whole time, what would be the point of that? Do you understand?”

Jack nodded. “I do.” He took a deep breath and adjusted his hands in his lap, the motion accompanied by the sound of clinking metal. “So. Y-you know the truth now. I’m... My name is Aodhán Jack Willeim mak Lough, King of Glasúil. I-it’s a mouthful, honestly, I know. I prefer to just go by Jack. My friends called me that.”

Chase walked up the steps onto the dais. He wanted to be level with Jack... but found that impossible. While on the floor, he was too far down, and while on the dais, he was too far up, and Jack couldn’t stand so they could look each other in the eyes. This fact made him distinctly uncomfortable. So he knelt down on the dais. He was still a bit shorter when that happened, but it was the closest their eyes could be. “How did this... Y-you weren’t always possessed,” Chase said. “When did the spirit show up? Did you... somehow attract its attention?”

Jack sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “I don’t think so. I think, perhaps, it was just looking for the right person. And I was perfect.”

“How long has this been going on?” Chase asked.

“...Seven years or so,” Jack said quietly.

“That long?!” Chase cried.

“I only had one year as King before it fully took over,” Jack said. “You know, I always thought it was suspicious. Both of my parents getting sick with some mystery illness, and no one else in the castle being infected no matter how close in contact they were with the King and Queen? I thought someone had killed them. Poisoned them, maybe, with something that worked quickly but not too quickly. And I knew I would be the first suspect. That people who didn’t know me would think I...” He swallowed a lump in his throat.

“I don’t... remember any suspicion about your parents’ deaths,” Chase said slowly. “Or your rise to the throne.”

“It was there. Either it was only the nobles who thought it, or the spirit used my power to make everyone forget about that once it took over.”—

“So... the spirit killed the old King and Queen,” Chase whispered.

Jack nodded.

“I didn’t know possessive spirits could do that.”

Jack laughed darkly. “I don’t think this is just any old spiolash that wanders the countryside. He’s... very powerful.”

“Seems so,” Chase muttered. “What... what happened after their deaths? If you’re okay with talking about that?”

“It’s fine, I’ve had enough time to think about it,” Jack said. “Things went... I won’t say things went well, but they were... normal. Being the King was difficult, especially when some of my advisors thought I’d poisoned my parents, but things proceeded how you’d expect them to. Until... I started seeing things.”

“...Things?” Chase asked hesitantly.

“In the dark, usually,” Jack said in a hushed voice. “When I was trying to sleep. A figure in the shadows. I thought it was just sleep freezing—have you heard of that? When you wake up and can’t move and sometimes see fucking terrifying things? I thought it was that. Until I started seeing these shadowy figures during the day, too.”

“Did you think it was a false world curse?” Chase asked.

“I considered it. I got desperate enough to consult with a doctor about it—which did not help my reputation when people found out. But they said I didn’t have any of the other symptoms, so it might’ve been something else.” Jack shook his head. “I couldn’t sleep. When I did, I sometimes woke up in strange places. My nose started to bleed, rarely at first, then as often as once every week. My eyes bled occasionally, too. I tried talking to wizards about it. Maybe this was some sort of curse. But... when I tried to ask, my voice froze up. I couldn’t even imply it subtly. A-and eventually, I wasn’t able to even walk towards a wizard to talk with them. My legs wouldn’t work.”

“That was the spirit stopping you.” Chase meant it as a question, but it didn’t come out as one. Probably because he knew the answer.

“Yes,” Jack whispered. “I-it got worse and worse. I started having nightmares. I started walking in different directions than I meant and it’d be a chore to correct myself. Said... unkind things to people. Couldn’t apologize. Started using my powers in ways I never wanted to. I-I promised I’d never control people. Th-there was an incident when I was little where I would make all the kids around me happy... it creeped me out. And afterwards, when the kids remembered, they wouldn’t talk to me. So, ever since then, I-I promised I wouldn’t do it, even if I thought it’d be good. But... I was... against my will, I was... making people think things. And making them forget things.” He shuddered. “One night, I had a terrible dream. A man with green eyes was chasing me through a dead forest, and he caught me, and pushed me into this little opening at the base of an oak tree and shoveled dirt in front, trapping me. Then, when I woke up, I couldn’t move. My body was doing things without me. I couldn’t... do anything. And ever since then... this has been my life.”—

Chase was quiet. He didn’t know what to say to that. What could ever be good enough for that? Words didn’t seem enough. So he leaned forward and wrapped Jack in a tight hug. He felt him tense for a moment before he absolutely melted into it. “We’re going to get you out of here,” he said. “I swear it, we will find a way to banish this spirit. You will be free again.”

Jack’s breath hitched. “That’d be nice,” he said, his voice thick as he tried not to cry.

“I swear it,” Chase repeated. “I swear it thrice.”

“O-oh. You’re... that serious about it?”

“Of course I am. I can’t leave you to suffer like this.” Chase leaned back. “Not to mention, it’ll really help the kingdom if it wasn’t being headed by an evil spirit.”

Jack laughed. “It would. I was so worried about being a good King once I was coronated, but now that I’ve seen fucking this, I know I won’t be the worst one out there.”

“Not by a stone’s throw.” Chase shook his head. “Maybe I’ll see you in these dreams again. I hope I do.”

“I hope I see you again, too,” Jack whispered. “I hope that the next time you see me, you’re able to see... me. And not that spirit.”

Chase nodded. “I’ll do everything I can.”

“Thank you.” Tears welled in Jack’s eyes. “Thank you so much.”

And then the draísling faded away and Chase woke up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jameson was finding more and more that he hated keeping watch at night. It was boring. So, so, so, so boring. He didn’t have anything to read—not that there was enough light to read even if he did—and no one was awake to play games with or talk to. And since they were trying not to attract attention, he couldn’t very well get up and wander around. So he was left just sitting there. In the dark. His mind tended to drift off, getting lost in his own thoughts.

But he forced himself back to the present. He had to check regularly if there was anyone nearby. He inched over to the door and eased it open, peering out. No, nobody in sight. It was getting close to early morning now, and people would already be getting up and going to work elsewhere in the city, but not here.

And then he saw it. Something moving. Small, and pale against the darkness of the city. He stiffened, leaning forward. Oh. That was a stray cat. But... there were no stray animals in Suilthair. At least not out in the floating neighborhoods. They were liable to fall off the wooden walkways. And yet...

Jameson glanced back at Chase, still sleeping. Then he got up and slowly, anxiously, walked out the door. He crept closer to the cat, glancing around nervously as he did so. It heard him eventually, and stopped, turning to look at him. He stared at it, not wanting to scare it away.

But he didn’t have to worry about that. The cat turned and pranced straight towards him. And suddenly, he recognized it. Jameson gasped and hurried forward. Yes! Yes! It’s Draco! Relieved, he crouched down to the ground and held his hand out for Draco to sniff. Draco did. And once it was clear he wasn’t going anywhere, Jameson hurriedly scooped him up and went back to the boathouse.

Draco wriggled out of his arms soon after he walked back in, landing on the wooden planks with a solid thump. Jameson went over to Chase and shook him until he woke.

Chase opened his eyes, momentarily confused, then looked back at Jameson. He took in the darkness of the boathouse—barely enough to see by—and sat up straight. “Did they find us?!” he whispered.

Jameson shook his head. He pointed back towards Draco.

Chase blinked. “...elders,” he breathed. Then he laughed. “Oh, thank the Elders. H-he found us! Marvin has to be nearby, right?” He crawled a bit closer, petting Draco’s head. “Huh. Did you notice this?” He pointed out a small leather pouch attached to Draco’s collar.

Jameson shook his head. Open it, maybe there’s something inside. A message, even.

“Okay. Hold still, kitty.” Chase reached forward and carefully took out what was in the pouch. “It’s a stone. With... runes on it.”

A talisman? Jameson asked.

“Must be.”

And then, suddenly, a voice came from the rock. “Chase? Jair? Is that really you?!”

“Whoa!” Chase fumbled with the rock and almost dropped it before recovering his grip. “Marvin?”

“It’s me!” Marvin’s voice said, and laughed. “I-it’s so good to see you! I’m watching you through Draco’s eyes right now.”

The rock? Jameson asked.

“Some witchcraft Vsevna suggested. You have to hold it in your hand and speak directly into it. It’s so good to see you two. It really is. I-I didn’t mean to leave, but—well it’s a bit complicated. I can tell you all about it later. Right now, I have to let you know that a whole squad of us have come here to find you.”

“A whole squad?” Chase gasped. “Who?”

“Me, Jackie, Schneep, and Vsevna and some of his crew. Oh, I realize neither of you have met Vsevna and his crew. But they’re very reliable.”

“O-okay,” Chase nodded. “What about Wyvernlair? Did they get our warning?”

“They did,” Marvin confirmed. “But there was still a bit of a scuffle. I’m not sure... I’m not sure how many people were lost. B-but most of them are fine. There’s a new camp. I-I don’t think I should tell you about it, just in case.”

That’s reasonable, Jameson said.

“Are you guys coming to get us out?” Chase asked. “We’re—we’ve been stuck in here. Jameson was caught by the King, I-I got him out of there, but—but we’ve been hiding, and there are no ways out of the city that we can find—”

“It’ll be alright, Chase, I promise,” Marvin interrupted. “Jair? Did you... really get...?”

Jameson nodded.

“I-I’m so sorry,” Marvin said quietly. “L-look, I should probably go, get everyone else awake so we can talk about things together. Keep a hold of the rock. And Draco, though I’m sure he can look after himself.” Draco curled up on the floor as he said that, looking about ready to go to sleep.

“That’s fine,” Chase said. “Um, how long will that take? To gather everyone up?”

“I don’t know, probably not that long. There’s not that many of us. I’m going now.”

“No, wait, one thing we need to tell you!” Chase hurried to add. “Before anything else. W-we learned something big about the King.”

Jameson looked at Chase. Are you sure it’s a good idea to share this? What if this is a trick?

“The King already knows we know this, so he won’t be gaining anything if it’s a trick,” Chase said.

“What is it?” Marvin asked.

“The King isn’t really the King,” Chase said. “He’s being possessed. That voice, that person in my dreams, that’s the real King. His body is being controlled by a spirit.”

Silence. “...if that’s true...” Marvin whispered. “Holy flame, I... I’m not sure how to... W-we’ll be back soon, alright?”

Chase nodded. “Alright. We’ll be waiting.”

“Thank you.”

And though Chase and Jameson stayed quiet, no more words came from the rock. Chase looked at Jameson. “Do you really think it’s a trick?” he asked.

I hope not, Jameson said.

“Yea. I hope not, too.”

For the first time in days, they had a direction. And Chase, after the draísling he just had, felt that he had a purpose, as well. Or a more solid purpose than he did before. He was going to help his family, and the whole kingdom, and Jack. It was a tall order, but he would do it. He could do it.

For the first time in a long time, he felt hopeful about the future.

[catgirlalchemist]

Mererid, daughter of Vanw, hails from the village of Root's Oath, in the Brecheliant Greenwood, in the land of Ynys Cantrevi. Root's Oath would be a fairly normal hunter-forager settlement, trading meat and skins for goods they can't produce themselves, were it not for that fact that it is solely home to the wolf-clothed, people with the ability to emerge in the form of a wolf while their human bodies sleep.

Mererid has always been one of her village's best hunters, and never so much as ventured to the nearest city, but when she's attacked by an unkillable beast out of a thousand-year-old legend, her search for answers leads her to leave everything she's ever known behind.

Note: name spellings are based on Middle Welsh, hence the non-standard orthography for Modern Welsh.

“And where might you be from, lass?” the innkeeper asked. “Don't see many womenfolk dressed like you in these parts.” Mererid shrugged. “I'm a hunter from Root's Oath, in the Greenwood. Everyone dresses like me there. No time to sit around sewing gowns.” A man's voice came from behind her. “The Greenwood? Heard there's an awful lot of wolf-clothed living there, outlaws and cattle thieves all.” Anest had warned her that cityfolk weren't nearly as friendly to the wolf-clothed as the villagers farther out from the great kingdoms, but Mererid hadn't quite expected to run into that so soon. She turned around, raising her arms in a gesture of innocence, and to show off the shearling lining of her wambais. “Only furs I'm wearing are sheep, sir,” she said, to a murmur of laughter from somewhere deeper into the common room. The man who had spoken up glowered at her, but turned back to his drink, and Mererid realized rather belatedly that she was lucky he hadn't made a crack about a wolf in sheep's clothing.

[blackjackkent]

OK, so we now have two specific goals in mind for Sorcerous Sundries. 1) Break into Tolna's office and dabble with dangerous books. 2) Go up to talk to Lorroakan and, if he's been hurting Rolan or plans to hurt Aylin, give him a sound thrashing.

We'll start with the second one first.

The quiz portals upstairs are still waiting for us, or we could just break through the doors on either side, so we have options.

I quicksaved and went through one of the "incorrect" portals just to see what happens.

It downed Hector and dumped him outside, where he had to go through a full round of death saving throws before stabilizing, and he was definitely in danger of straight up dying on the street before the others could get to him.

I already didn't like Lorroakan but this clinches it. (And I was going to reload but why do that when we can make drabble fodder out of it instead?)

-----

"What the FUCK?" Karlach yelps, diving to his side and pouring a potion into his mouth as he gasps for breath. Several passing cityfolk look on with curiosity - and more than a little concern. "Are you all right? Hec? Talk to me."

A slight pause; then he coughs and settles against her, opening his eyes and looking up into hers blearily. "Ow..." he mumbles.

There's no visible wound on him, which makes it all the more unsettling that he was clearly on the verge of expiring just before she reached him. "What did he do to you?" she whispers hoarsely.

"I... I'm not sure..." he answers weakly. "One moment I was upstairs... and then out here, and everything going black..."

Karlach looks up at Gale and Jaheira, and a flash of flame works its way along her skin, the engine starting to whir in her chest. "Y'know, I don't like to make snap judgments," she says tightly, "but I'm beginning to think this guy might be a bastard."

"I think you and I are very much in accord on that point," Gale agrees.

Jaheira smiles savagely. "Take a moment to rest, cub," she tells Hector. Then, to Karlach: "And then we will go upstairs and see that this wizard is properly treated for such an act."

[ratwavekayla]

PSYCHODUNGEON (Coming to Kickstarter Next Month)

PSYCHODUNGEON is a workplace fantasy action drama, played with No Dice and No Masters. Play poor cityfolk working as psychoplumbers, who delve into clients traumas made manifest as monstrous dungeons.

It's coming to Kickstarter sometime next month! Please follow the pre-launch page and please spread the word to all of your friends.

Within an individual delving job there are three asymmetric roles in the game; the Dungeon itself, the Client it hass manifested from, and any number of Psychoplumbers who will delve down. The game uses a token-based system built on the Belonging outside Belonging framework, and suits 3-7 players. Players work together to shape the world, set the mood and tone, create trouble and look for solutions.

In PSYCHODUNGEON we delve into nightmarish psychostructures, battle monsters, navigate a hostile domain, and help the mind the dungeon sprung from gain closure. We do this for a meagre paycheck. On the surface we try to get by living our lives in a busy city that wouldn't miss you if you fell off the face of the planet.

It's a game about mental health, it's a game about struggling to survive under late-stage capitalism, it's a game about the fear of losing yourself to a job. (It's also a game where the Werewolf playbook is ultimately an allegory for chronic pain but I didn't realise that until after I wrote it.)

I believe in this book. I hope enough other people believe in it too.

[emmy-dekarios-bg3]

Heart of the Weave - chapter 6

…It can’t be,” Gale murmurs, an expression of horror on his face. I can’t even begin to think of what her reasoning could be, but then again, Mystra is a delusional and selfish goddess that will gladly do anything, good or bad, as long as it benefits her. The fact she groomed my husband and demanded the worst from him starting a young age speaks volumes about her character.

“Why on Earth would Mystra do this?” I ask. “You would think someone like her could handle it. What in the…”

“Unfortunately, you know just as much as I do. Who would have it in their hands? Who would she have given it to? Surely no one stole it, not that it makes it any better.” We all sigh, trying to process this predicament. Whoever has the crown can cause catastrophe or control the entire world like the elder brain attempted to do, and mostly succeeded.

“You know how I feel about that snot-nosed and self-absorbed goddess. She most definitely gave it up,” Karlach implies, and more than likely she’s correct. “No offense, Gale.”

It seems we’re more doomed than we originally thought. We left Waterdeep not thinking anything of it, not considering the possible dangers we would be in. Regardless of where we live, we’re in trouble, but I’ll be honest: I’m glad we found out this way. Baldur’s Gate is up ahead, awaiting our arrival and it seems to be just as lively as it was when we left before. The trees through Rivington are lively and flourishing with life, brightening up the scenery. The old circus has been torn down and replaced with other new buildings, such as homes for refugees and even a lovely museum. Though that general area reminds me of the horrific past of having to murder a shapeshifting clown, I can’t help but smile, observing the crowds and smelling the sweet aroma of fresh foods from the markets. No more posters of Gortash. No more Steel Watch. The city has changed dramatically since we’ve been here last and it’s definitely more clean than before. I also notice even more homes set up for refugees, a parade in the distance, and new amenities such as an upcoming new circus in a different area that hopefully won’t be filled with shapeshifting creeps in search of blood and body parts to sacrifice to the god of murder, Bhaal. Though, it’s safe to say that the temple is still alive and well unfortunately, which means the potential for murder and destruction is still there.

I love listening to the sound of bards playing their tunes while the parade is keeping the cityfolk entertained. It feels nice and comforting being back home, even for a moment. Hearing the sound of children laughing and dogs barking while running through the city is a sound that reassures me everything's okay and I have nothing to fear. While there have been traumatizing events to happen here in more recent times, this is where I was born and raised, where I learned how to hone my war cleric skills, where I stopped an elder brain from dominating the world. So many memories, both good and bad, and some I miss dearly. Businesses are thriving! I notice more restaurants and bars on every corner, looking to be restored and with newer, more friendly staff. Some of the previous owners of some of the bars were not happy to be there, or were killed during the fight with the elder brain.

“While you guys go to the healer or whatever, Wyll, my hammer, and I are going to visit with Fytz and catch up. She had her baby! I’ll meet you all back here,” Karlach says. She takes Wyll’s hand and off they go merrily, without allowing us to say another word. As Karlach and Wyll head out, we attempt to locate the doctor, but the city is so big and the lack of signs make it an obstacle, but after speaking with a couple townsfolk for directions, it appears they’re located in the Upper City. It’s strange; last time we were here, we were helping the city clean up all the dead mind flayers from the streets right after defeating the brain. So many people died as illithid and not themselves, which broke my heart to discover. I’m thankful everyday that wasn’t my fate, and I’m lucky I was one of the fortunate ones that was protected.

“How are you feeling?” Gale asks with a hopeful look twinkling in his eye. I sigh, holding my hands against my stomach as a nauseating knot forms once more. So help me if the smell of meat gets near my face, I’ll definitely vomit. That wasn’t the case last night though. What the hell is going on? Gale rubs my back gently as I take a deep breath to keep it all in.

“Like my stomach is being twisted around and punched multiple times. I feel better than I did, though,” I add. I could be feeling much worse.

“Thank Sêlune that we handed that orc’s ass to him before he could get to you,” Shadowheart says with relief in her voice. “I’m so sorry you can’t fight in this condition, but I’m glad we could protect you.” I smile at her comforting words, making me feel slightly better about the situation. Months ago, I could destroy a man with my sword in one hit. Now, I’m so weak I can’t even lift a fucking sword.

After some walking through the city and grabbing food from one of the local vendors, we finally find the doctor, who is apparently new to Baldur’s Gate and came from Neverwinter directly after the brain and its thralls were defeated. We go inside the building and notice several paintings of animals, one of them being a wolf. I just know the doctor is a druid.

“I’ll wait outside if you need me. I’m still terrified of wolves, even if it’s a painting,” Shadowheart says. “You can thank all of my trauma for that, which I can’t seem to recover from.”

“We shouldn’t be too long,” I tell her. She half-smiles and nods for us to go inside.

Gale and I walk in, noticing a younger wood-elf druid at the counter. Ah, so not only was I correct about the doctor being a druid, but now the paintings within the building make more sense. Then again, it makes sense for a healer to be a druid in the first place. His golden-blonde hair touches his shoulders, freckles covering every inch of his cheekbones, and his forest-green eyes are enough to gain someone’s full attention, so bright and lively. Like Halsin, he appears to be extremely friendly.

“Hello, welcome! My name is Jasik. How may I help you two today?” he says, a positive and welcoming tone within his voice. A small, white cat is sitting on the counter, licking its paws.

“I need help and fast. I’d rather not discuss my symptoms out in the open. Can you help me?” I ask. “I’m rather…ill.” He nods, opening the door of the counter and walking us to the hallway.

“Come. Let’s get you to the back.” Gale and I hold hands as we follow the young man to the back room. The building reminds me of a beautiful cottage or cabin, a very comforting feeling that gives an “at home” aesthetic. As we walk, we notice more paintings are hung up on the walls through the hallway.

“Well, if Shadowheart gets sick, this is not the place for her,” Gale whispers. We walk into the room with the doctor, sitting down on the beautifully carved wooden chairs that seem to be made of oak.

“Glad to have you both here today. Could you kindly explain the issues you’re having?”

“Well, where to start,” I say with a soft voice. Gale squeezes my hand, admiring me as I speak. “A lot of nausea. Light headed. Body aches. Vertigo… The list goes on. Oh, and a random fever that comes and goes when it pleases. Not consistent at all.”

“And no healing spells or potions are working for you?” Jasik asks. I shake my head no and sigh. If only the answers were that simple.

“And the tadpole I had, it’s been gone for over a year,” I mentioned. “These symptoms may not sound as bad as I’m making them out to be, but… Man, they feel intense. And this is coming from someone who has been poisoned, burned, and lacerated. Someone who was almost a mind flayer.”

Jasik observes me, trying to see if he can locate any physical symptoms I may not be aware of. He advises Gale to leave the room, but not to be too worried. I’m not sure how I feel about him not being by my side, but surely it’s for safety or privacy concerns…right?

“I’ll be outside if you need me,” he says, kissing the top of my head. Gale’s eyes are full of worry, and he looks at me as he leaves the room to go stand outside with Shadowheart. I begin to panic even more now, though Jasik said everything seems to be fine. I wonder how serious it is that he can’t mention it in front of my own husband.

Jasik grabs a needle and a potion bottle filled with some mysterious clear liquid, which isn’t water, that looks extremely unfamiliar. I stare at the medical instruments in front of me, questioning to myself what kind of procedure this is and what I got myself into. I have never heard of anything like this before.

“I’ll need to prick your finger for blood, then I will add it to this potion bottle. The color of the liquid determines what issue you have. If it stays red, then you’re fine. Green is not good and a cause of serious concern. Blue or purple is more ‘mild,’ such as a stomach bug, cold, or pregnancy. You’d think I’m some sort of sorcerer or wizard, but the truth is, I’m a druid. I did attend school for the arcane as a young boy and did various studies with top-notch professors, though.”

I sit here quietly, staring at the potion bottle in front of me, dying to know what color the liquid will turn and what this means for me. He pricks my finger rather quickly, squeezing the droplet of blood into the bottle. The blood swirls within the liquid, causing it to change various colors. I swallow nervously, my attention hyper focused on the bottle and bubbling liquid within.

“That is a rather interesting process,” I say. I’m thinking about how Gale might be feeling, and if this is another tadpole situation. I never got captured again, so surely that’s not the problem, right? “Is this a common practice?”

“Well, it’s becoming common. In Neverwinter, this is how we have discovered the answers to various problems and illnesses. With the knowledge of the arcane and nature’s guidance combined, it’s been extremely accurate and hasn’t failed us yet! They brought me here to help spread the word. Plus, there aren’t enough healers or doctors in Baldur’s Gate.”

Jasik observes the potent potion as it turns into a very vibrant purple color, bubbling with intensity. The colors remind me somewhat of the Underdark. My anxiety is rising just slightly as I wait on his response to the color change. He gasps as he turns around to face me; however, he’s smiling, so it must be good news.

“Well? What’s wrong with me?” He claps his hands together, taking a deep breath while he’s still in a very enthusiastic state.

“Oh, praise Silvanus!” he exclaims. “You are going to be okay. Nothing to worry about at all, you just need to stay hydrated, take it day by day. Be wary of what you eat. Just…lots of rest, dear.” I smile, sighing in relief at his comment.

“So, I’m not terminally ill or anything, it’s just a stomach bug?” Jasik hesitates, as if he’s trying to figure out the words to say as I still sit here, waiting for some sort of explanation. Why can’t he just tell me outright? “I’ll take that as a yes and I’ll be on my–”

“You’re pregnant,” he interrupts, placing his hands over his mouth as if he’s excited for me. I pause, unable to respond to his words from the sudden news that was just thrown in my face. My hands begin to shake as I try to process this.

“W-wow, I did not expect this. Um… Why am I getting a fever if that’s the case? Are you sure I’m not just sick?” His smile does not fade but he shakes his head in response.

“The potion does not lie. You are absolutely pregnant. This has been tested by our most knowledgeable of scholars, and has been proven correct with previous patients in the past. I do want to ask – do you plan on keeping the child? I ask because if not, you could swallow the potion and it will…um… Cancel out the pregnancy.” I sigh, staring at the potion that could determine my fate, but I refuse it.

“No, I… I’m keeping the baby.” I walk out of the office nervously, heading toward the front door. I hold my stomach, unable to think clearly as I try to contemplate on how I’m going to tell Gale. I’m not even sure I want to leave the building right now.

[sweettoothvn]

For those who are interested in making Sweet Tooth OCs, here is some basic knowledge on the magic of Sweet Tooth.

First off, you are a college student attending an academy of magic (i'll have a name soon enough- no its not hogwarts dear god no)

Witches:

Witches are basically more in tune with their magic as they grew up with natural teachings, that or they were born in the countryside and their family taught them instead of a school. Although their magic is powerful it can be difficult to control. 

Wizards:

Wizards are cityfolk and more familiar with the basics and advanced techniques. They don't experiment with their magic as much as witches. Their abilities are very linear but powerful.

Warlocks:

Warlocks are able to have 2 abilities relating to their district or 2 separate districts. Mastery over both powers is nearly impossible. Warlocks are extremely rare as well.

Clergy:

Clergy master their craft, however they have stricter rules about them and are very religious to the ruler of their district. Mistakes are punished severely. Perfection is everything.

Corpus oriented:

Your abilities play off of other people's bodies along with your own. Either you are a healer and can control blood clotting and immune systems at your body's expense. OR you are more combat oriented and control other people's bodies to do damage. Either way, in order to deal with the side effects of your powers, you have to consume blood or flesh. If you do not satiate these needs, you will grow feral and attack anyone in sight and eat them alive. If you are from Corpus, the main color is Green.

Seikatsu oriented:

Your abilities are in relation to nature. Maybe that be plants or animals. If you're more in tune with the animal aspects you are able to communicate with other animals of all types. Whichever habitat your abilities belong to are where you thrive the most. Your anatomy will be based on the animal type your family is associated with, or a combination based on your parents. If you're plant oriented then you're able to speak to plants and control them like weapons or have them serve you. In some cases, you might be a plant yourself. If you're animal oriented, the side effects of your abilities will cause you to be feral and difficult to control. Based on what you are, you will need to eat either flesh or a specific herb to calm down your nature. Then, you will need to rest.  If you’re plant oriented, the side effects of your abilities cause you to feel fatigue and sluggish. You will need to consume water or sugar to regenerate along with a long rest. If you are from Seikatsu, the main color is Blue.

Kumumea oriented:

Your abilities are of these elements: Water, Fire, Earth, or Air. There are sub-districts and border districts between the main districts of Water, Fire, Earth, and Air. For example, the border district between Fire and Water is the district of Steam. The sub-districts of Water are about the different bodies of water (ponds, lakes, rivers, oceans, etc) along with Ice. Your abilities, depending on the district, will impact your body. For example, if you have Ice powers, the side effect of over usage would be frostbite. In extreme cases, your body freezes from the inside out. If you are from Kumumea, the main color is Red.

Bhaavana oriented:

Your abilities tie into your emotions along with others. You lack emotions and have to take pills to get them OR steal them from other people. The other possibility is you have too many emotions and take pills for them OR push them onto other people. Regardless of what you are, you can change the emotional state of other people, allowing manipulation to be easier if you’re charismatic enough and know how to use people’s emotions against them. If you’re the type that lacks emotions the side effects of over usage is dangerous. It is wise to put yourself in the hands of someone you trust as you will begin to feel emotions you’ve never felt before naturally. The common response to this is either insanity or harming yourself or others around you. If you’re the type that has too much emotion, the side effects of over usage aren’t as bad but not great either. It is possible to end up in a coma if someone you trust does not help you in time. When faced with over usage of your abilities, your emotions will intensify and your mind begins to shut down. You pass out and retreat into your ‘Mind Palace’ where you will live in your desired fantasies until your body calms down, or someone with Rasum abilities manages to pull you out of the delusions. If your body doesn't calm down or you refuse to leave the Mind Palace, you will be trapped in a coma. If you are from Bhaavana, the main color is Purple.

Rasum oriented:

Your abilities relate to the mind. You are able to control other people’s minds either via mind control or hallucinations. You are also able to swap minds with other people. Other abilities include being able to look at your memories from the past, manipulate other people’s memories, control dreams, control other people’s morality, and change other people’s personalities entirely. Side effects of over usage include horrible migraines that might cause you to vomit, pass out, or have nose bleeds. In order to get rid of these side effects, it is wise to drink hot liquids, such as tea. Meditation also helps when you begin to feel the side effects take place. If you are from Rasum, the main color is Yellow/Gold.

Zaman oriented:

Your abilities control time. You aren’t able to travel back in time or control the time of the planet you are on, that is reserved for those who are higher standings and have been around for thousands of years as they have more experience. However, it is possible to create time loops within communities you are in. You can also speed up, slow down, pause, or reverse time on objects, animals, and people. For example, if your food isnt cooking fast enough, you can speed up the time so it’s perfect. You are able to pause people in case of attacks or anything else unfortunate. Side effects include a loss of control over your body movements or not being able to move at all. In extreme cases it's years of your life. If you are from Zaman, the main color is Orange.