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evendeadlmthehero · 5 years ago

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The Sun and The Moon

(Kylo Ren/Ben Solo x Reader)

Episode I: The Timeline of Romeo & Juliet Part One

Summary: “You were one of the 12 Padawans that Luke Skywalker taught. There, you met the love of your life. Your first best friend, your first lover and your first Boyfriend; Ben Solo. Everything was perfect. That is, until the Jedi Temple was burned by Ben himself. 5 years pass since you last saw him and he isn’t the man you used to know. The Moon preferred darkness and in that darkness, Kylo Ren was born.”

Warnings: some swearing, murder and mental illness. Also, Rey is not in this and I won’t follow the exact plot of the triology.

The Sun and The Moon Masterlist

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6 Years Old

“My patience wears thin so I will say this one more time,” a man spoke, his face not visible from your point of view. You held your breath and hid beneath the floorings, just like your mother told you to. You saw the feet of two Stormtroopers take a step towards your mother, their guns raising up. “Give us the one who was promised, the one you call Saviour, and we’ll be on our way. Failure to comply will result in death. Your death.”

Your six-year-old heart beated rapidly as you watched on from below. Your hair was an unruly mess and dirt covered your face. You were trying your best not to move, afraid you’d be in front of what you assumed were the ‘bad guys’. “She’s not here, I already told you. The Saviour is but a rumour, a myth. You are wasting your time.”

It was your fault. If only you had kept your ‘powers’, as your mom called them, hidden. She told you, no she demanded, that you mustn’t ever use them. And you did. But it wasn’t your fault.

You see, the village’s bully had thrown your doll on top of the tree. When you thought no one was looking, you managed to use the force to bring it back towards you. You didn’t understand this ‘power’ you had, you were but a small child. But your mother did. And she did everything in her power to keep it hidden.

But the fact is, someone was watching. In particular, it was the old lady who lived across from you. She was from the unfortunate end of the riches scale and had clothes with multiple stitches across the fabrics.

The man chuckles, walking over to your mother. He places a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, your mother flinching as his finger makes contact with her skin. The grip of your hand on the doll tightens in fear. “You scavengers are so gullible. Did you really think your own neighbours wouldn’t rat you out for a couple of credits?”

Your mother’s eyes widened, now shaking her head rapidly. “Please, please, please don’t do this! She’s just a little girl! Don’t you understand that the Dark Side is not the way of life! It’s not too late to change sides, you can still follow the light!”

“The light,” the man started, circling around your mother before the clicks of the guns that the Stormtroopers held rung across the room. “Is a joke. You want to bring balance to the world yet you use weak, primitive methods to reach the objective. And where did that lead to exactly? The exitinction of the Jedi? The rise of the First Order? The light is pathetic and weak.”

He then takes a step back before looking at the Stormtroopers, nodding his head. Multiple shots rang, before a ‘thud’ was heard. And there she was. Your mother. On the floor. The women you raised you, the women who would rip her own clothing just to make you a blanket, was now gone. “Hopefully I get a promotion for bringing in the stupid little girl.”

Tears streamed profusely down your face as your mother’s face fell exactly in the flooring in which you were hiding under. You held the doll against your mouth, desperate not to let out a squeak, desperate not to cry in case you might reach the same fate as your mother. “Search every inch of this place. The child must be here-“

“General! Luke Skywalker has penetrated our defences! I repeat, Luke Skywalker has-“, the transmitter went silent. The General let out a groan, smashing the transmitter against the wall. Pieces of the machinery fell against the wall as the General breathed in and out heavily.

“Let’s get out of here before that mongrel catches up to us!” He yelled at the Stormtroopers, before storming out, stepping on your mother’s back on the way out. Your hands were shaking and when you heard a plane fly away, you let out the first of many sobs.

You got up from your position, running over to the secret door on the floor. You opened it before climbing out and rushing towards your mother’s now cold and soulless body. “Mom?Mom! You have to- you have to get up! P-please mommy! You- you have dinner to make, a-and then we go shopping mommy. You promised mommy, you promised.”

But your mother did not respond, making you cry even more. As a child, you did not know exactly what this meant. You did not know that it was impossible for your mother to open her eyes and look at you one more time. “Mommy please! You can wake up from sleepy time, the bad man is gone now.”

You heard the door slowly creak open, making you jump back in fright. You were shakingly violently, hugging the doll in fright. A foot stepped in, before a man with a grey beard and unruly hair walked in. You then ran in front of your mother, trying to protect her. “Go away! You can’t hurt mommy! I have powers so you- you should be very scared!”

The old man smiled at you, putting his hands up to show you he was not going to hurt you. That he was but a friend and not a foe. He looked at you in sadness as he saw your mother’s dead figure lying on the floor.

“Hello Y/N. My name is Luke Skywalker.”

One Week Later

You sat by yourself at the Jedi Temple, eating a bowl of steamed rice. After a week of travelling in harsh, hot conditions with Luke Skywalker, you finally found yourself able to rest on a rock carved as a seat and a table made out of the erosion of limestone from the sea.

You heard the chatter of some Padawans who were laughing and talking with one another, obviously having known each other for a year or so. You were a late Padawan, but as Luke had said, it did not matter. His own father, Anakin, trained to be Jedi at the age of 9, three years later than yourself.

It was your first day and you had yet to make new friends. It’s not like you wanted to anyway, after what you have been through. You were now very wary when meeting new people, especially people who were three times your age like Luke himself. You’d always analyse your environment, trying to see if any threats surrounded your peripheral vision.

“Can you believe it Almec? That Solo boy killed a bird! How is he still training to be a Jedi?” A boy cried as he walked inside the temple with his friends, holding a bowl of rice. “He should be expelled! He has no care for life or the ways of the Jedi!”

“Luke is obviously deseperate for more Jedi’s if he’s allowing a murder like him to train with us,” another boy spoke, who you assumed was Almec. He had daring green eyes and devilish brown hair. He looked at you as he walked by, making you quickly look down at your food in embarrassment, red prominent on your cheeks. Him and his friends then took a seat a table away from you. “He’s only getting special treatment because he has Skywalker’s blood in him.”

Deciding you were done with your food, you got up and walked inside the kitchen, placing your bowl near the sink. After you were done washing up your bowl, you walked back inside the eating area and headed towards the exit. As you were walking out, you made eye contact with Almec. This time he gave you a small smile in which you returned before hurriedly out of the Temple and into the environment.

You breathed in the fresh air as you slowed your pace, desperate to take in the serene environment around you. The Jedi temple was located in an empty piece of land with endless vast of grass. There were also trees that grew amongst the edge of the island and some in the centre and around the temple.

There were also huts the surrounded the temples and were scattered around the island. There was 8 to be exact. All Padawans were paired with another of the same sex in each hut. Luke had his own hut and because you had just came yesterday, you got your own hut all to yourself.

‘I can’t save it,’ you heard a voice in your head speak. You stopped in your tracks, confusion filling your mind. It wasn’t just confusion, it was fear. But it wasn’t your own. You then looked into the forest and felt it calling you, felt it calling your name. So you started walking towards the forest.

‘I can’t save it,’ you heard the same voice speak. You then realised this wasn’t someone talking, but it was someone’s thoughts. Specifically, a boy’s thoughts. You wandered into the forest, hearing the ocean far away hitting the rocks. You kept walking, looking around to find something, someone.

‘I can’t save it.’

‘Save what,’ you kept thinking, as you moved the branches of trees away from your face in order to progress further. You then stopped, seeing a mop of black hair. His back was towards you, holding something in his hand.

You felt an instant connection towards him. You felt like you had to protect him and that you could trust him with your life. It was weird, because someone had just murdered your mother yet here you are, willing to trust a stranger.

It seemed like he had felt it too as he quickly turned around, his eyes now on you. Your eyes widened in shocked, now scared that he caught you looking at him. But that was quickly forgotten when you saw a dead bird in his hands, it’s wings chopped off. You let out a scream, moving backwards. Your legs however tripped over a branch on the floor you did not see, making you fall in the ground.

You were about to run away before you heard his voice, in particular, the voice you heard in your head just minutes ago. “Wait please! Please! It- it isn’t what it looks like!”

You then looked at him, your breathing still erratic. You were scared but somehow you felt like you should stay, like you should listen to what he had to say. He then gulped, taking a step forward. This had made you crawl backwards, trying to keep distance. The boy had seen this and felt a rush of pain within his heart. He did not what you to be scared of him like the others. He did not know you, but you were new. He had a chance to finally form a friendship and he messed it up.

“My- my name is Ben. I found the bird dead, it’s wings chopped off. I- I think it was an animal that did this,” he explained, looking at you directly in the eyes. He then took a step forward and this time you did not move back. “I’m trying to- I’m trying to save it. I heard about this power where a Jedi could heal things and I thought I could do it too. Apparently I can’t do that, I can’t do anything right and now you are probably scared of me like everyone else-“

You watched as the 8 year old boy rambled on and on, seeing the look of rejection and desperation in his eyes. It seemed that Ben was used to it now, the rejection. But still, that didn’t stop the pain and feeling of unworthiness that tagged along with it. You got up from the ground, with Ben still rambling about how he was trying to save the bird.

And you believed him. So to save him and you from the misery of his rambling, you decided to cut him off.

“I’m Y/N.”

13 Years Old

You breathed heavily as you dodged the incoming lightsaber that swung above your head. You then brought your lightsaber close to you, attacking your opponent. Your lightsabers both hit each other at the same time, letting out a loud mechanical hum.

“Careful, you’re going to break my ‘saber,” Ben joked, dodging your attacks. Luke and the other Padawan’s watched on as the both of you battled each other. It almost looked poetic how you both fought, it looked indentical. Both of you had the same fighting stance, offensive and defensive moves. You both matched each others steps like dancing partners.

“It’s ugly anyway,” you replied before taking steps back. You then ran towards him, Ben readying up to defend himself. As you came close to him you slid down, using the back of the lightsaber to hit the back of his knee. This threw Ben out of balance, causing him to fall and within a secound you stepped on his chest, the lightsaber now in close proximity to his neck. “I win.”

The Padawans all clapped expect Almec and his friends who watched. Almec felt a rush of jealously fill his body. For 7 years, Almec has been trying to speak to you, trying to be your friend. The 15 year old boy would be lying if he said he did not feel an attraction towards you. You were gorgeous, had a blinding smile and a beautiful sense of justice and leadership. But somehow, you only looked at Ben, not him. Ben was your closest and only friend and because of this, Almec resented the raven-haired Padawan.

He always found himself competing with Ben, trying to one-up him all the time. Trying to impress you. But you only had eyes for the Solo boy. Everyone in the Jedi Temple can smell the testosterone battle between Ben and Almec whenever they were up against each other during training, exams and learning of the force. But Ben had always been the best student, only secound to yourself.

Luke Skywalker got up from his feet, making you and Ben take a knee out of respect. You were both panting from the sparring match you had both just partook in with each other. “Master, we hope you are proud with our progression.”

“You are both holding back on your hits,” Luke had spoke, causing all the Padawans to stop clapping and go quiet. “It is obvious you both cannot un-bound yourself from wordly attachments due to the clinging need of emotional attention and devotion from each other. You both are therefore banned from sparring with each other.”

“But Master Luke-“ you protested, getting up from your position. Ben stayed in his position, an angry look on his face like it was to be expected from the Skywalker man.

“I don’t want to hear it!” Luke had spoken, getting up from his position. You looked down, your cheeks reddening in embarrassment for being told off in front of everyone. “It is final. Ben you will now spar with Almec and Y/N you will now spar with Lierra. This will persist until the remainder of your Jedi training.”

Luke looked at you both one last time before turning around and walking out the door. All the Padawans got up and begun leaving the room. Almec in particular had a little smirk on his face as he left the room. You looked at Ben who was staring and the floor in anger and fury. You shook your head, chasing after your master who had left the room.

“Master Luke!” You called out as you saw his retreating figure down the hall. Luke let out a sigh, stopping in his tracks before turning around to face you. He then lifted his eyebrows up, waiting to listen to what you have to say. “I think- I think Ben Solo has been a great sparring partner. I really feel like I’ve progressed with him and I’ve learned a lot-“

“I’m doing this for your own safety,” Luke cut you off, your face now slowly filling with confusion. Luke let out a second sigh, shaking his head. “Y/N, I consider you as one of my own and I give you this one advice. Stay away from him. I know he’s my nephew, but he’s erratic and there’s anger in him. I’m trying- I’m trying to do my best to bring out the light in him, but I don’t want you to be involved in the process. It’s too dangerous. Try being friends with Almec. He’s a good boy.”

You clenched your jaw, your body filling with anger. “His mother and father dispose him in this Temple and his own Uncle talks ill of him. How ridiculous. You should all be ashamed of yourself, depriving a boy of love and support. I will stay friends with him and I’ll always be there when he needs me to be. Thanks for your advice Master Luke, but no thanks.”

You then bowed quickly, before running back towards the sparring room, desperate to see Ben. When you walked back inside the room, you found Ben still in a kneeling position. You rushed towards him before bending down to his level. “Ben, are you okay?”

“He is such a selfish old man!” Ben spoke, finally getting up from his position. He then started pacing around the room, his fingers running through his hair. You stood up, watching him. “He saw how powerful we were together, how well we fought together! And he separated us!”

“Ben, maybe he was right. We were holding back on each other and we won’t progress if we keep holding back-“

“Even when we’re holding back Y/N we are stronger than all the other Padawans! Fuck, we are stronger than all the past Jedi’s combined! You realise what we can achieve together Y/N? We can start the trials now! We can be the youngest Jedi’s to ever exist! We can singlehandedly take over the Galaxy if we wanted to and that frightens him!” He yelled before punching the wall and creating a dent. He then felt a hand on his shoulder, your hand on his shoulder.

“Ben, you must not think like that. We must obey Master Luke and listen to his words of wisdom even though we might not agree with it. Anger leads to the dark side,” you spoke gently, your thumb rubbing circles on his shoulder. Ben closed his eyes, focusing on your touch. He felt himself slowly calming down. That’s what you always did, you helped him calm down, you brought the light back into him whenever anger had consumed him.

He always thought that he was the moon and you were the sun. Without you, he’d be lost in the void of darkness. Without you, he would not be able to see the light.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” his voice cracked as his shoulder slumped down. You nodded at him, giving him a hug. He closed his eyes, breathing in your addictive and heavenly scent. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay.”

•

You sat on top of the temple as you and Ben tried to forget what had happened earlier. You both usually did this when everyone else was sleeping; sneak out and look at the stars, the planets. It was a nice getaway from all the Jedi nonsense and responsibilities that tag along with the title.

“Can I tell you something Y/N?” Ben spoke, lifting up his head and placing it on his hand to face you. You turned around with a smile, also facing him.

“You can tell me anything,” you spoke. Ben watched as the moon reflected against your eyes, giving you an ethereal look. His face turned red as the intensity of your eyes, your beauty, was too much from him. You gave him this weird feeling inside of him and he felt a strong connection, a link, with you.

“Are you- are you scared of me?” He asked, his voice small as he was scared of your reply. You looked at him in shock, shaking your head at him.

“No, why would you ask that?”

“I heard Master Luke speak to you, telling you to watch out,” He replied back, looking at his hands in vulnerability. “I try, you know. I try to be the best I can be. But when your own mother is scared of you, when your own Uncle warns people of you, it’s just-“

“Disheartening?” You finished for him. He clenched his jaw, trying to hold back his emotion as he silently nodded. You then grabbed his hand, giving it a squeeze. “I think that everyone was wrong to do that. Your mother, your father and your uncle are so wrong about you Ben. You’re an amazing guy. You’re sweet, compassionate, a leader and a hero. You shouldn’t listen to anyone who tells you otherwise.”

‘You are amazing,’ he also heard you say, but your mouth didn’t move. He was confused, thinking his mind was playing tricks on him. But then he realised it was your thoughts. It was a Jedi Power, to be able to read minds. However, you were the first person he could ever read the mind of, which threw him off.

“Thank you,” Ben replied back after a while, shaking his thoughts of reading your mind out of his head. However he did it, he didn’t want to do it again. He felt like he was invading your privacy. “You are the only person who’s ever been there for me, who’s ever cared. And I owe you an eternal debt that I know could never be repaid-“

You interrupted him, smashing your lips against him. This took Ben by surprise, now too frozen to reply respond to your kiss. He couldn’t think properly, let alone move. He couldn’t stop thinking about your soft, wet lips against his, grazing his ever so delicately. He felt all the nerves within him fire, this being his first ever kiss, now imprinted forever in the back of his mind.

But right as soon as he was going to kiss back, right when his thoughts finally made sense, you had pulled back. He felt the coldness from the absence of your lips. He was so close, just a secound longer and he would’ve replied back to your kiss. But he was too late.

“I’m- I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to-“ you begun before letting out a groan as your whole face went red. You did not know what had gotten over you. He was just rambling, looking dashing as ever and you had an instinct, an impulse. “Oh god, this is so embarrassing! I mean, I can’t believe I just kissed you!”

You didn’t mean anything by that last statement, but Ben felt a deep pang inside his chest. The anxiety and depression had further grown tenfolds within him and he felt like the most unwanted living thing in the world. Ben retracted back, finding it hard to breathe.

Was kissing him really that bad, he had thought. Were you really repulsed and turned off from him that kissing him that it was unbelievable and disgusting?

“Can we- can we just forget this happened please?” You asked him, removing your hands to look at him. Ben couldn’t speak so he just nodded at you, gulping. You nodded back before getting up in a hurry. “Well, I’m pretty tired so I’ll just head to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast?”

Ben nodded for the second time today as he watched you quickly scurry off. He then lifted his hand up, his fingers grazing against his lips. He could still feel your lips against him, like a ghost. Him not being able to kiss you back will forever play as nightmares in his sleep. It was his one and only chance to kiss you and now he will never taste your lips ever again.

When you were finally out a sight, Ben clenched his jaw, smashing his fist against the roof beneath him. He then looked up at the sky, feeling isolated and outcasted.

‘Did you really think you might actually have a chance with her?’ He had heard a voice call out, this time a male. He quickly got up, now alert. He pulled out a lightsaber, now in attack mode as he kept spinning around to try to find the source of the voice.

“Who are you!” Ben had called out, feeling fear at the sound of the voice. He then gulped, seeing that there was no one in sight. Wind blew against leaves on the trees, making a rustling sound. There was an owl hooting meters away from him.

‘You will soon find out, my young protégée.’

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ibijau · 4 years ago

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Sometimes, you just get a random idea for a thing that demands to be written, so... here’s a no-Sunshot-Campaign AU where the Wens are still the worst, but in a different way :)

warning for character death, implied sexual abuse, and some descriptions of a corpse

It's not the most interesting Night Hunt they've been on, but Nie Mingjue is always glad when Lan Xichen makes time to spend time with him. It was hard for a while to be around each other, but they're starting to move on at last. All they have to do is avoid one certain topic, and things are fine.

And so they are walking together in that forest, keeping within reasonable distance of the road that traverses it. Nie Mingjue had heard reports of terrible monsters, but so far they've found nothing but a few fierces corpses. If he had known, Nie Mingjue would have brought juniors instead of bothering Lan Xichen with this. He did hesitate after all, unsure how his friend would feel about getting so close to Qishan Wen's territory. In the end, Lan Xichen seems fine. It's been over four years, after all.

Still, as they get closer to the border, it's Nie Mingjue himself who gets uncomfortable. He's about to suggest they head back and let the Wens deal with whatever is on their side of the forest when they hear a desperate cry coming from further away.

The voice, unmistakably, is that of a child.

Without so much as sharing a glance, Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen rush ahead, running among the trees until they find the source of that shout.

There is, in fact, a child. A toddler really, clinging tightly to a teenager in clothes too light for the weather. The older boy has a sword in hand which he seems ill at ease with, pointed at a large group of fierce corpses. He seems to have managed to dispatch a few already, but he's struggling, too frail for a fight like that, especially while protecting the little boy in his arms.

The teenager is panting, breathing hard, but when one of the corpses comes closer he attacks without hesitation.

Without skill as well. Whoever taught that kid to hold a sword did a terrible job of it. His movements are wrong for the weapon in his hand, though his posture isn't awful, meaning he does have some training. That boy is dreadful at fighting, and yet there's real skill to his movements, something almost familiar. He manages, somehow, to decapitate the fierce corpse, but loses his balance and falls, angling his body so the toddler in his arms won't be hurt.

The child cries again, while in Nie Mingjue's hand Baxia nearly vibrates with rage.

Even if they have to be careful not to hit the two children, Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen effortlessly dispatch the fierce corpses and purify them before turning their attention to that odd duo they rescued.

And they are odd indeed. The teenager's clothes aren't just too light for the middle of fall, they are spun in delicate silk and beautifully embroidered. His hair is disheveled from the fight but still retains elegant gold decorations shaped like the sun, like Wen concubines usually sport. This would explain the Wen sword in his hand, but only partly. The Wens don't usually let their concubines Night Hunt, or cultivate at all unless they are particularly beloved.

Still curled up around the toddler, his eyes closed and panting hard, the boy flinches when Lan Xichen kneels next to him to check on him.

"It's fine, you're safe now," Lan Xichen says gently. "They can't hurt you anymore."

The boy's eyes snap open, and he stares at Lan Xichen like a poet stares at the moon. It's not an unusual reaction to seeing the First Jade of Gusu Lan, but something about it rubs Nie Mingjue the wrong way, especially when the boy's eyes turn to him and he gets so overwhelmed he starts crying.

"I made it," he sobs, holding the toddler closer against his chest. "I made it, I made it!"

Surprised as well by that reaction, but getting suspicious as to the reason behind it, Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue exchange a glance. If it is what they think, it's lucky it's only the two of them. The more people know, the harder it is to deal with these situations.

"Did you come here all the way from Qishan?" Lan Xichen asks, with all the gentleness he's capable of. "From the palace?"

The boy flinches again and sits up, pulling the toddler in his lap. There's a calculating air to him, but that's to be expected. He wouldn't have made it this far if he weren't careful.

"My name is…" the boy starts, before stopping to look at both of them, his face turning harder. "My name is Mo Xuanyu," he says slowly, almost like he reciting a lesson. "My father gave me as a concubine to Wen Chao. The little boy is Wen Yuan. His mother was another concubine of Wen Chao. I think she's dead now. I hope she's dead."

His arms tighten around the toddler who cries out in protest but doesn't try to escape.

"Why do you think she's dead?" Lan Xichen asks, his voice perfectly steady even after hearing that name, while Nie Mingjue kneels next to him.

“You have to promise you’ll help us,” Mo Xuanyu retorts. “That you’ll help him at least,” he corrects, petting Wen Yuan’s hair. “If they find us, we’re dead. I don’t care. Dying isn’t that scary. But A-Yuan is just a baby, and his mother stayed behind so I’d have a better chance of taking him to safety, so I have to repay her. Take him at least, Nie zongzhu.”

Nie Mingjue frowns, wondering briefly how that boy recognises him. He’s dressed as simply as a regular Nie disciple, never seeing the point of bothering with regalia when he’s just Night Hunting with a friend. Before he can ask though, Mo Xuanyu tears little Wen Yuan from where he’s clinging to him and pushes him into Lan Xichen’s arms. The toddler cries of course, and reaches out for the older boy.

“It’s fine, Lan gongzi is a good person,” Mo Xuanyu says, tenderly petting the child’s hair with a gesture that makes Nie Mingjue’s heart clench. “It’s okay. You can trust him. He’ll take care of you. And Nie zongzhu will help us as well.”

Nie Mingjue will help indeed.

He would have helped anyway, but he sees the way Mo Xuanyu is petting that little boy’s hair and it makes him nearly sick with a sorrow he thought he’d learned to control.

It also just makes him sick in general. Mo Xuanyu can’t be much older than seventeen. If he has met Nie Huaisang, then he must have been no more than twelve or thirteen when he was taken in Qishan. It’s frightfully young, even by Wen Chao’s standards. Or did that gesture get passed down among unlucky concubines, just as Nie Mingjue did for his brother what his mother did for him when he was young?

It should bring him comfort, that something of Nie Huaisang managed to survive, that he left a trace even after what happened.

“There, you’re going to be good now,” Mo Xuanyu tells Wen Yuan when the toddler calms down, unable to resist the combination of that caress and Lan Xichen’s aura. “Everything is going to be fine, you’re safe now, A-Yuan. I’m done fulfilling my part of the deal now.”

“The deal?” Nie Mingjue repeats.

“With… with his mother, and someone else,” Mo Xuanyu explains, distractedly touching his forearm. “One half of it was to take A-Yuan to safety. That was his mother’s price with helping.”

“And the other half?”

The boy, Mo Xuanyu, smiles.

Nie Mingjue shudders.

"I killed Wen Chao," Mo Xuanyu announces, his eyes shining feverishly. “Slit his throat. He choked on his own blood, exactly as he deserved. It took him for ever and I watched the entire time,” he adds, his expression nearly blissful.

Nie Mingjue freezes. He feels, distantly, that Lan Xichen has grabbed his arm and is holding too tight.

He remembers.

They both do, no matter how badly they want to forget.

Nie Huaisang’s body, already starting to rot, scavenged by foxes, his throat slit so deep his head rolled when they tried to move him. He’d been gone for months, not a trace to be found until anonymous messages came to Qinghe, telling Nie Mingjue that Wen Chao had a new concubine, one who had arrived to Nightless City right as Nie Huaisang disappeared, one who nobody was allowed to see. The message had urged Nie Mingjue to act fast.

He hadn’t been fast enough.

Just as Lan Xichen and him were preparing to storm Nightless City to get Nie Huaisang back, they’d been told about that body near Caiyi Town.

Near the last place anyone had seen Nie Huaisang.

An accident, everyone said. A robbery gone wrong maybe, the fishermen who found the corpse said. There were bandits in the area and Nie Huaisang was never the strongest of cultivators.

A sure way to get rid of an inconvenient witness, some whispered. Wen Chao had picked the wrong person to steal away this time, and his father had dealt with the problem to protect his son.

Or perhaps it had been Wen Chao himself. One of his discarded concubines, who had managed to escape, said that one of them had tried to kill him, once, and got so near to it that he’d managed to leave a scar on Wen Chao. Nie Mingjue liked to imagine it had been his brother. Nie Huaisang wasn’t much of a cultivator, but he was a Nie, and he wouldn’t have gone without a fight… or so Nie Mingjue told himself.

He had to find comfort somewhere.

Right now, he finds that comfort in a tender gesture that Mo Xuanyu must have learned somewhere, and in the knowledge that his brother was avenged by a boy hardly older or stronger than Nie Huaisang was.

A boy who can’t be allowed to fall in Wen hands.

Death isn’t the worst thing that Wen Ruohan will do to him if he really murdered his favourite son.

“Can you fly on that sword?” Nie Mingjue asks.

Mo Xuanyu gives his blade an appraising look, and grimaces.

“Badly. Slowly. I don’t have a golden core. But I can do it, yes.”

“That won’t be enough. You’ll fly with me.”

It’s something Nie Mingjue normally avoids, because Baxia doesn’t like to deal with strangers. She’s usually angry when she’s made to carry anyone, except Nie Huaisang who she tolerated with the same sort of feigned reluctance that Nie Mingjue used to show toward his brother’s antics.

Today she tolerates Mo Xuanyu with surprising ease as well. She must feel Nie Mingjue’s gratitude toward this nothing of a boy who did what they couldn’t do.

Wen Chao is dead, and Nie Mingjue will protect his murderer, the way he failed to protect his brother.

#nie huaisang #mo xuanyu #nie mingjue #lan xichen #mdzs #this started as a xisang plot bunny bc I wanted nhs and lxc to have been engaged but welp couldn't find a place for it #anyway this was written in a hurry bc I just wanted to get it out of my head so it probably isn't good but enjoy #this is super self indulgent bullshit but that's just how I am ;D #jau writes

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okk--maaan · 5 years ago

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The First - 1/?

You and Kylo Ren, or Ben Solo as you once knew him, have known each other your whole lives and you’ve always been inseparable, best friends. But as you’ve gotten older, that friendship has blossomed into something more, deeper.

Warnings: fuckin fluff dude and way too much exposition

A/N: Holy shit I sat on this for way too long. I have an idea about where this is going to go but that’s about as far as I’ve gotten lmao. I’m sure it’ll get a lil smutty soon but we’ll see 😏. Uhh I’m not super familiar with Star Wars terms/slang so sorry if I messed something up on that front, please don’t come for me. Also I don’t consider myself a ‘Ben Solo Stan’ by any means, but I do think that part of his life can play an important role in his story. Don’t come for me about that either. Hope you guys stick with me while I attempt to write a full chaptered fic!

You had known Ben since you were a child, your whole life really.

Your parents had fought alongside his in the Resistance. They fought long and hard on the frontline until their last breaths. You were only ten when they left. But by that time, Leia was already like a second mother. There was a group of children orphaned to the Resistance, either through their parents being captured or killed. The mentality of “it takes a village” naturally applied here, but Leia, especially Leia, treated you as her own. And then there was Ben. At first, he was just your friend who was always around. But the more your parents were gone, the more you were around each other, with each other. He became your best friend and confidant, and you were the same for him.

When you were often left to your own devices, the two of you would explore whichever planet your rebel forces had chosen to occupy for the time. You would climb trees in lush forests and listen to the birds in order to learn which calls belonged to which species. You would swim in warm coves with waterfalls cascading down from miles above your heads. You would wind through tunnel systems dug beneath desert sand, hoping to find treasure. You played children’s games and used your children’s imaginations. But as you got older, your activities together changed. You stopped playing pretend and started to talk about what your real lives were going to be like. Around the time you were fourteen and Ben was fifteen, you decided neither of you really wanted to fight your parents’ war. You didn’t know what you were saying. You stopped looking for treasures you thought would make cool toys. Instead, you started scavenging wrecked ships for things that could be traded for cooler things. Ben eventually had the idea to trade your more valuable findings for money. He started to know when smugglers and other travelers friendly to the cause would be around and willing to pay for spare parts. But you never went with him on those adventures, always too scared to get caught. You both always split the money you got, and he always spent a portion of his earnings on a gift...for you. Always something handcrafted from a local shop that for some reason he thought you would like (and you always did). A hand blown glass rose, scraps of metal molded into an animal, small rings made from a planet’s unique minerals. Sometimes you felt bad when you couldn’t return the favor. But anytime Leia allowed freedom to wander through a market, you bought him loads of his favorite sweets to make up for it. Ben always had such a sweet tooth.

Your time together also stopped being just between you. Now you were usually accompanied by two or three other friends. And of course now that we were teenagers, feelings were beginning to manifest that you had not yet experienced. Like jealousy. Solan was your first kiss. Ben didn’t speak to you for a week. You didn’t understand what you did wrong. Yana was Ben’s first kiss. Then you understood.

But the silence didn’t last long, you were too ingrained in each other. Before there was even time to think about it, you fell back into your routine. He would come to your quarters he would read while you drew. You would go to his quarters where he lived with his mother. If Leia was around, she would cook meals and you would talk around the table. Otherwise, Ben and I would eat snacks and watch old holos from the Republic. The explorations resumed, but now you never invited Solan or Yana, or anyone else, for that matter. Just the two of you again. You both knew what you were doing, deep down, but neither ever wanted to be the first to acknowledge it.

Until your sixteenth birthday.

The Resistance had just set up base on this beautiful planet, covered in soft tall grass, vibrant wildflowers and sparkling ponds. There was never a cloud in the sky the entire time you were there.

Ben showed up at your door that morning holding a blanket on one arm and a picnic basket on the other. You didn’t know where he got this idea from.

“I want to do something nice for your birthday,” he said through a shy smile.

“I didn’t think you’d remember,” you lied.

“I don’t think I’ve ever forgotten.”

He was right. He hadn’t. Ever.

You walked through the cold makeshift halls of the base, outside into the warm mid-morning sun. You basked in it, pausing for a moment and lifting your face. Let your eyes close and let every ray touch your skin. Ben did the same. Except he wasn’t basking in the sunlight, but you instead. You could feel his gaze, but let your eyes drift back open just in time for his to cast down. You smirked and let out a small breathy laugh through your nose. Again, Ben mimicked your actions. When one did something, the other usually found themselves reacting similarly. You were so alike, shared the same opinions and emotions on most topics. Like the war. And each other.

Ben led you down a worn dirt path carved right through a field of flowers you had yet to learn the names of. Then he stopped and turned to step off the path. After a few easy looking steps into a never-ending sea of knee high grass, he instinctively reached back for your hand. And you instinctively took it. That was another thing you just did, that felt natural. When the landscape of your hikes called for leisure, Ben would slow his gait in order for you to walk side by side. Then he would scoop your hand up and interlace his long fingers with yours. You never thought much about it. It just always felt right. You wondered if he understood the implications. You didn’t, at first. But as you moved into adolescence, you learned who held hands. People in love. And even then, you didn’t understand the different types of love. You knew you loved Ben, but you also knew that you loved Leia and your parents. So you didn’t think too much about hand holding.

Usually the touch was innocent enough. A sense of comfort would wash over your body as his rough boy hands, calloused from climbing and throwing things, grasped yours. But this time, the touch was different. There was an intention, a heat, a force behind it. Obviously you knew who his mother and uncle were, but was this THE FORCE? It didn’t feel how you imagined it would. No. This felt dark, and it scared you. But only for a second. Ben must have sensed this fear and used whatever mind tricks he must have recently become aware of. He immediately turned to meet your gaze, his eyes warm like the sun-kissed moss hanging from the trees, and a tender smile spread across his freckled face, displaying his dimples and not-so-straight teeth. You swear you heard his voice--his actual voice--in your head. As soft as a whisper, he said, “Follow me, princess.” You could even hear the smugness in his tone. He always teased, calling you princess, because you were the closest thing Leia had to a daughter. You had even heard a handful of people take the joke as far as calling you the Princess of Alderaan. And Ben was the Prince. It was always said with a sneer and you never much liked it. But when Ben called you princess, it was always said with a playful glint in his eyes. And you always liked that, very much.

That was the moment you began to see Ben as more than just a boy, more than just your friend. That fiery touch on your skin and low voice in your ear was enough to begin his transformation into a man and your love.

He led you to a tree, large and singular in the middle of the sea of green--which you found was not as easy to navigate as Ben’s long legs made it seem. Not far off from where you spread the blanket under the tree, one of the beautiful blue ponds sparkled. You wish you had brought your swimming clothes.

You sat in comfortable silence, the only sound was Ben unpacking the picnic basket. One by one, he pulled out your favorite fruits, cheeses, and desserts, and set them meticulously on the blanket. Finally, he unveiled a bottle of your favorite juice, which he had to have squeezed fresh that morning. You were clearly in awe. And he was clearly proud. And that was the moment you began to realize Ben knew you almost better than you knew yourself.

“Can I show you something?” he asked in a somewhat serious voice, before you could take your pick from the spread.

“Sure, Benny,” you teased. It wasn’t usual for him to use that tone around you.

He ignored the light jab and instead turned his focus to a round ruby fruit. You could see him straining, a vein starting to pop out in his neck, as he steadily lifted his hand. The fruit followed, slowly floating into the air. Then, it burst into two halves, split down the middle, pearly seeds flying everywhere. You jumped and Ben huffed out an exaggerated breath, like he had been holding it. Then he smiled. That smile turned into a laugh. A victorious laugh. You chuckled along, still somewhat confused.

“What was that?” you asked, even though you knew, you knew.

“The Force,” he almost whispered. His eyes gleamed and you saw that little boy again.

Hearing him confirm it out loud somehow made it okay. So you started laughing again, this time in earnest. A sense of pride filled your chest. You wondered for a while when this day would come. Even though you weren’t Force sensitive yourself, and most fighters with your sect of the Resistance weren’t, you had met other kids with Ben’s same abilities. And they were usually much younger when they exhibited their talents. But here he was, finally able to do it. Finally able to channel the strength running through his veins.

You didn’t know what that would come to mean.

Ben gave you a look as he floated one of the little seeds and you knowingly opened your mouth to catch it. But instead of it landing gently on your tongue, it flew through the space between you and hit the back of your throat. Your breath hitched and you started to cough.

“Oh kriff, I’m sorry!” you had never heard him curse before. All you could do was laugh at the ridiculousness, never embarrassed in front of him.

“It’s okay. Try again,” you encouraged.

The two of you went back and forth for what felt like hours. He would float seeds over to you, usually hitting your nose, eyes, cheeks. And you would toss them to him, hitting the same targets. Eventually he started to get the hang of his power and was able to hover the seed just long enough for you to snatch it out of the air.

Eventually growing bored of your game, Ben suggested you go for a swim.

“But I didn’t bring anything to swim in,” you retorted.

“Neither did I,” he shrugged and stood up. As he walked towards the water, he began to drop his layers until he was down to a soft pair of linen shorts. You followed to catch up, in both stride and degree of clothed. He stopped suddenly; so did you. He looked you up and down; you did the same. You were seeing him as that man again. It felt like you were seeing him for the first time. You wondered if he felt the same. Without a word, he turned to run, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the water along with him.

It was warm, almost like a bath, yet still refreshing. You splashed around and dunked each other’s heads under the crystal clear water, making faces at each other when your eyes met. You alternated between lazily floating on your backs and actively swimming laps. Slowly, your raucous laughter turned to quiet signs, and your toes and fingers wrinkled like dried fruit. You decided to exit the water first and Ben followed closely on your heels. Like a puppy. Or maybe more like a guard dog. You always got a sense that he wanted to protect you. From what exactly, you didn’t know. Yet.

You laid directly in the sand of the small beach, letting the sun warm and dry your bodies. You kept your eyes closed, in your own world, but you could feel Ben’s stare on you. Secretly, you reveled in the attention he was suddenly giving you.

It felt like you stayed this way for hours again.

Then you heard him.

He pulled in a long ragged breath.

Then you felt him.

HIs fingertips grazed across your check before he planted his palm in their place.

Then you saw it.

You saw your whole life up until that point flash behind your eyelids. Except, you weren’t you--it wasn’t your life you were living. It was Ben’s. It was every moment you ever shared together, along with everything he ever felt in those moments.

Joy. Surprise. Happiness. Pride. Confusion. Anger. Jealousy.

And something else you couldn’t quite place.

A heat that radiated from your core and ignited every nerve under your skin.

You couldn’t keep the tears from falling as you experienced this flood of emotions. The last image you saw was your own face again, but it was you weeping, laying there in the sand. And you felt Ben’s pain. His heartache seeing you cry.

Then nothing again.

Opening your eyes, you were met by Ben’s hurt stare, the same hurt you felt in your own heart seconds ago.

“Ben,” was all you could choke out.

“I know,” he responded, wiping tears from your skin with the pad of his thumb.

You now understood what you felt for him.

What you always felt for him.

And you understood what he felt for you.

Love. But not the type of love you felt for your parents, natural-born or honorary. No this was something deeper. Something heavier.

And with him so close to you, his warm breath whispering over your lips. You understood what that unplaceable heat was.

Lust. Want. Need.

He must’ve still been in your head because the moment you made that realization, he mashed his mouth to yours. It was honestly very ungraceful. But you reciprocated best you could, with your little experience. You wrapped your arms around his neck and attempted to match his force, his passion.

You would come to find those were two things you could never match.

Your bodies separated only for a moment, allowing you to catch your breath before he placed a much gentler kiss to your lips. Cradling your face lovingly in his hands, his gaze softened and you let out a small laugh, slightly taken aback. Yes. You had kissed another boy before, but that was so tame and innocent compared to this declaration Ben had just given you.

Before you could further process what just happened, he yanked you to your feet by the wrist. He tugged you along behind him back to your spot under the tree. As he plopped onto the blanket, he kept his fingers interlocked with yours, leaving no choice but to follow suit. At this point, you still weren't sure how to react so keeping your palms together, you just laid there. Staring at the leaves swaying gently in the breeze, you tried to calm your thoughts.

#this is...bad #im sorry this is kind of a mess lol #kylo ren #ben solo #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren self-insert #kylo ren reader insert #ben solo x you #star wars #adam driver #my writing

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nekoabiwrites · 5 years ago

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Virgil, the Small Purple Emo

Welp, it’s just past midnight on the 23rd, so it’s time for me to share my Secret Santa gift to @midnightsdarkangel!

FYI: this is my first attempt to even envision anything relating to GT on my own, without someone else explaining it to me, so I hope it’s alright? Let’s just say this idea came about after making the joke of “Virgil the Giant Purple Emo” in a conversation involving Clifford the Big Red Dog... that was the inspiration...

AU: Love Makes You Grow AU Words: 2172 Pairings: Moxiety Warnings: Attempt at GT near the end, talk of homelessness, implied homophobia, general sad Virgil. Anything else, please let me know!

Summary: Virgil stopped growing when he was very young, leaving him at the bottom of the societal ladder. He grows cynical after being thrown out. Can a chance meeting with a kind stranger change his life?

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Virgil had always been small. In fact, he’d stopped growing at age 12, while everyone else around him grew taller and taller. Of course, that had meant he’d been ostracised by most in a world where your size equated to the amount of love you had in your life. He clearly was an unloved child and so that meant he was unworthy of anyone else’s time. All because of who he was.

His family had found out only a few days after his twelfth birthday that Virgil was gay and that was the moment where everything changed. The love stopped. His entire family disowned him, they threw him out onto the street and left him to fend for himself.

Virgil had found ways to survive, of course. He’d managed to get a poorly paying job that gave him just enough money to live on, while also allowing him to barely scrape by at school. He jumped from place to place, sleeping outside most nights. Eventually, he found a small forested area that was visited rarely, and he set up camp there. Virgil scavenged and stole from bins and dumps in order to make it comfortable. By his 21st birthday, Virgil had yet to grow even another inch and was living in a tree house of his own making.

It was haphazardly put together, but it was better than his first four other attempts that had been dismantled to make this one. It was far larger than the others, allowing him to lay flat in his beaten-up, old sleeping bag for the first time as well as giving him space to put what little he owned. It had fewer holes around as well, though Virgil sometimes did miss staring up at the stars, but he much preferred the cover it provided when it rained. But it was just a place for him to retreat to after work. It didn’t need to be the height of luxury. It served its purpose well.

The morning went like any other. He woke up early, did what little he could to make himself presentable before throwing on his uniform and clambering down the tree in order to start his long walk to work. Thankfully Virgil had been able to grab a pair of semi-working headphones from the store where he worked before they were about to be thrown out and so had something to listen to as he made his way through the town. It was familiar, it was boring, it was normal.

But the strangest thing happened while he was at work.

It started as an accident. Virgil had been stocking the lower shelves as usual and had bumped into a customer whilst turning to go back towards where his manager was. “Oh, sorry.” He mumbled, ducking his head to move on out of the way.

The customer laughed softly, “It’s alright! I’m the one who should be sorry. I was just off in my own world and didn’t see you!”

Virgil stopped in his tracks and glanced back at the man he’d walked into. He was tall, very tall… at least around two feet taller - likely even more - than himself, which wasn’t too uncommon. But he’d just talked to Virgil as if he was equal. No reference to how short he was. No annoyed huff and muttering. No threats to get him fired. Nothing. Just a normal conversational response. “Uh, well… um… it’s okay?”

The customer grinned and nodded, “How long have you been working here?”

This was completely abnormal. People usually didn’t want to talk to someone as short as him. Virgil pretended to tidy up the surrounding shelves to look busy as he replied, “Around 9 years or so…”

“No… how old are you!? That can’t be okay!”

Virgil grimaced before explaining that he had just turned 21 that morning. The customer’s face had turned from shock – as he clearly thought Virgil was younger than he was – to sadness.

“Oh, I’m sorry… I didn’t know- I thought that-”

“It’s whatever. Doesn’t matter.” Virgil waved it off. It was his life, he was used to it. This man was going to pity him for a moment, say goodbye and they’d never see each other again. A silence stretched on for what felt like minutes. Eventually, Virgil went to leave but the customer stopped him.

“…When do you get off work?”

Virgil faltered and took a moment to catch himself. “What? Um, I mean, like… around… 8?”

The customer’s eyes were blazing with hope as he reached for the employee’s hands, grasping them between his own, “I’ll meet you outside the shop then! I want to help.”

An odd feeling hit Virgil in the stomach, almost like he was stretching out his muscles for a moment. But it was gone before he could give it more than a second’s thought. This stranger was offering him help, without even knowing him. Apparently, Virgil had agreed, and the customer had gone on his way. The rest of the day was a blur and, at 8pm, he was standing with the odd man outside.

“Oh, I never introduced myself!” The stranger slapped his forehead playfully before holding out his hand, “My name’s Patton! Nice to meet you, Virgil!” He shook their hands once and then turned sharply, beginning to wander down the street, “If you’re okay with telling me, I’d love to know what happened.”

There was practically no context, but of course Virgil knew what he meant. He walked quickly to keep up with Patton’s long strides, “It’s pretty short. When I was 12, my entire family disowned me and threw me out for… reasons. And from then, well, people kinda just avoided me. You’re not exactly wanted when you’re… like me… but I guess you don’t really get that…” He didn’t mean to slight the tall man, but it just happened to come out. After years of public rejection, Virgil had grown bitter and pessimistic. He went to explain this, but Patton simply laughed.

“You’re right, I don’t know what that’s like. No one should have to know what that is like.” Patton seemed wistful as he stared down the street before them. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Virgil.”

That evening, Patton took Virgil to a restaurant close by and treated him to a meal, despite Virgil’s protests and worries. He assured the shorter that there was no expectation of returning the favour or paying him back; it was merely a way for them to sit and chat somewhere warmer as the temperature was quickly declining outside. Over food, the two talked more. Virgil found out that Patton’s life had been without much hardship, especially in the love department. He had a large family that adored him, many friends who he met up with frequently. Everything for Patton was great all while Virgil had the complete opposite. After some time, he opened up a little and told Patton how he was essentially homeless and had been since he was kicked out onto the streets. He had no friends, his co-workers and managers hated him and belittled him for his height. By the end of the meal, Patton’s eyes were swimming with tears that Virgil assumed were pity and not of sadness.

The larger man wrapped Virgil in a tight hug as he wept for him, “That’s so unfair, Virgil! You don’t deserve any of that!”

“It’s whatever. I’m used to it now.” Virgil’s face pinked slightly as he felt the urge to hug Patton in return, while also feeling extremely awkward in the unusual embrace.

“It’s official!” Patton proclaimed once they were finally out of the restaurant. His eyes were determined as he clenched his fists and set his expression, “We’re friends! I’ll come and see you whenever I can!” He quickly dropped it and softened, “Oh, right, uh, if that’s okay with you, of course.”

The shorter couldn’t help the amused snort that slipped out. He shoved his hands into his tattered hoodie’s pockets and smiled softly, “Yeah, sure… just, don’t always pay for stuff for me. It makes me feel weird… deal?”

Patton grinned widely, “Deal!”

From then on, at least a few times a month, Virgil found Patton waiting outside the store for him. They’d wander around the town chatting and just spending time with each other. Sometimes they’d get food, other times they’d find a café and just watch the world pass by. The months passed and the two got closer, meeting up more and more frequently. Virgil showed Patton his treehouse – which he hadn’t expected to cause the man to weep uncontrollably whilst he held Virgil in a spine-crushing hug. Patton, in turn, had brought Virgil back to his house several times, which just hammered home to the shorter how different life was for Patton. During this time, people were becoming noticeably nicer to him.

First, it had been customers. They’d stopped tutting and glaring at him when he was attempting to replace items on the shelves. All of them had suddenly stopped commenting on his height, as had his co-workers and managers. He’d told Patton all this, to which they both settled on the solution that Virgil must just have been looking happier or something. Neither had noticed that Virgil needed much less help reaching for things on higher shelves.

Soon enough, Virgil had to remake his treehouse once again. He’d been feeling claustrophobic in it for a while. He even enlisted Patton’s help in order to make it again. Virgil used up all of his few holiday days to complete the project, while Patton had brought all new materials for the shorter to use. He’d even asked Virgil if he’d like to move into Patton’s back garden instead of staying in the small forest.

“I mean, it’s just closer to your work and you’d be able to come and go whenever you like. A-and if you needed, you could come in and make food or warm up. I mean, it’s just an idea!” Patton had rambled, his cheeks pinkening significantly. Of course, Virgil had accepted. He wasn’t quite ready to actually move into a home – being in his treehouse made him feel safe – but he found that he was really becoming fond of being around Patton almost constantly.

It was the first time he’d spent the night in Patton’s home that everything had really caught up to them both. Several years had passed and they were officially going with the title of best friends. They’d been sitting on the couch, just watching tv and eating. It was nothing they hadn’t done before, but there was something… off. Virgil just couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

It all happened at once.

Patton had taken a sharp breath and sat up extremely straight. Virgil, in a practised motion, looked up to ask Patton what happened and found that he was looking at the ceiling. He then dropped his eye level and found that he had to angle his sight slightly downwards in order to make eye contact with Patton, who was staring up at him with an open mouth.

“What the fuck?!” Virgil screamed, looking down at himself in surprise. He felt himself panicking but did his best to keep himself calm. Sure, he’d noticed that he’d sorta been growing with Patton being his friend, but this was insane. “Patton, what just happened?!”

Patton swallowed heavily before sheepishly giggling, “Um, well… this might be… my fault?”

“Patton. If you don’t explain right this second, I’m going to freak the fuck out.” Virgil said between shaky breaths.

Patton grabbed a hold of one of Virgil’s hands, gently stroking it to calm him down. His face was beet red as he explained himself, “I just realised that… um well, that…” He took another heavy breath before blurting out, “THATIMINLOVEWITHYOU.”

Time slowed. Virgil felt something inside him metaphorically expand at Patton’s confession, almost as though it were only his heart that had grown in that moment. It had a secondary effect, as Virgil considered his own repressed feelings. He realised that he’d pushed down his emotions years ago, as he believed that they’d never be reciprocated. Virgil finally admitted to himself that he loved Patton as well.

The effect was immediate. Patton ballooned in the same way Virgil had. He was back to being far taller than Virgil, which was not exactly a great thing to happen in a building, even if Patton’s ceilings were higher than most.

Nothing had to be said after the shock had passed. Patton reached for Virgil, who slipped between the larger’s arms with ease, neither of them commenting on the fact that Patton’s hair was brushing the ceiling. As Virgil began to swell to a larger height whilst in Patton’s arms, the couple laughed.

“Looks like we’ll be needing a larger home. If you want to stay with me, of course.” Patton offered. Virgil said nothing, responding only by nuzzling deeper into Patton’s shoulder, causing the other to grew a little more in return.

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My other stuff: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/myworks Mobile Accessible Masterlist: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/post/181954641376/fic-masterlist

General Tag List: @not-so-innocent-bi-sander @didsomeonesayprince @llamaly @justanotherpurplebutterfly @iaminmultiplefandoms @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @lowkeyvirgilobsessed @louisthewarlock @fangsandrainbows @xxladystarlightxx @sleepyssnail @ao-koshka @notalwaysthevillian @pumpkinminette @doces-e--tuga @coloursintheblur @safesandersides @hogwarts-my-love

#Sanders Sides #Fanfiction #Moxiety #Virgil Sanders #Patton Sanders #Anxiety Sanders #Morality Sanders #GT #At least an attempt #Secret Santa #Homophobia #Homelessness #Happy Ending

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msfangirlgonewild · 5 years ago

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Prescence (post-TROS fanfiction/Post Canon)

Before I’m posting on Archives, this is my first DamereyDaily2020 during pandemic week, and this is the second after Healing or ‘possibly the third’ series of ‘It's Like Poetry, Sort Of. They Rhymes.’

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Rey Skywalker

Word count: 4,650

Prompt: ’Two hearts and one home.’ Plus a bonus from late March ‘If You Lived to Be A Hundred’

Summary: Three months later...Poe had faith that his dauntless ally, his best friend, his ray of sunshine, his beloved Jedi...had returned for him.

Once the Death Star’s latest target and the site of the Rebel base during the final battle. Yavin 4 was a vast and most affluent planet of the Outer Rim Territories, and its large and sprawling tropical jungles teemed with an abundance of exotic beauty.

Following a long hyperspeed, T-70 X-wing Black One had reached Yavin 4. Similar to Ajan Kloss, this tropical moon planet was where Poe Dameron was born. He was glad, relieved to have finally returned from Coruscant and the third meeting of the Galactic Senate’s restoration.

Poe thought about the peace that had ensued after the war, and the friends that he had made along the way. He missed them so much out there, but it was time to come home, take a breath, and rejoin his father. Nonetheless, he was reflected on Finn and the journey with his fellow former stormtrooper Jannah, along with Rose Tico, Chewbacca and Lando Carlissian in search of their families. Larma D’Acy was now in the Senate’s seat while Beaumont Kim as her aide. Caluan Ematt had retired and returned to his home planet with his family. Kaydel Ko Connix had been promoted to Major and continued to serve in the military. And Jessika Pava, the fearless sole member of the Black Squadron was taking over Poe’s command.

He had visited some time with Maz Kanata at her restored castle at Takodana where she had her new cantina, and with Zorii Bliss and Babu Frik who were still running spices like in the days when Poe had worked them long ago. Zorii would keep in touch with him until if she needed hand otherwise.

The giant red planet was covered in clouds as Black One dropped from the atmosphere and flew over the grassy fields to landed perfectly just as near from his father’s homestead.

He pulled off his flight helmet and climbed down from the cockpit. As General Dameron’s temporary side droid while Beebee-Ate was away with Rey, Artoo-Detoo popped up from the astromech socket behind the cockpit, and maneuvered himself with his two small rockets to land slowly onto the ground. Finally, the droid and his maker-pilot were strolling toward the stable next to the farmhouse.

They walked past his mother’s A-wing interceptor, parked next to an old X-wing model, and Poe was suddenly curious. He looked towards the craft as Artoo was suddenly became excited with blipping and whistles.

Poe turned to the diminutive droid, as he arched his brow. “What?” he asked unexpectedly. “What do you mean—“

“Is that you, son?” His father shouted from the nearby stable while fixing his tractor. “And I could hear Artoo’s droidspeak.”

He nodded to himself. “Yeah, Dad,” he said, still focusing on the ship as Artoo rolled closer. “I’m home!”

“How’s my old mates at Coruscant?”

“Er...they all missed you,” he looked closer at the craft: one had the red stripe on two of its wings and on the body. It was sleek, like the T-70 X-wing or his original Black One that had been destroyed inside the Raddus’ hangar.

Poe abruptly realized that this was the T-65B starfighter, the one that Uncle Luke had piloted to destroy the first Death Star at Yavin 4, and then thirty three years later the same craft that had flown to Exegol with the guide of a Sith Wayfinder, with Poe along with Finn and the rest of the Resistance following its track.

Red Five––here? Poe thought. No kriffing way!

“They’re coming to visit you the next seasons,” added Poe, sighed in relief. “And they’ll bring some of that Corellian cognac that you wanted!”

“Sounds good, Poe!” Kes Dameron answered enthusiastically.

That’s Master Jedi-Luke’s X-wing and I recognize this ship, Maker-Poe, the droid beeped to Poe. And I think there is someone here?

“Who?” asked Poe.

“Oh, there’s a visitor for you, kid,” Kes added. “And she’s with our Beebee.”

“Really?” His heart leaped to find out Rey was already there.

“Of course, you Space Porg! Did you see that old X-wing she’s flying?” Kes chucked as Poe got annoyed at his ridiculous teasing. “She’s at our old place. Do invite with your Jedi friend for a dinner tonight.”

“Ah…no problem, Dad. And I’ll tell her!” Poe wore a satisfied grin as he turned to giddy Artoo. ”Will you take it easy, bud?”

Sorry, sir. Artoo beeped. Never can help it.

He shook himself as he walked and the droid followed. “You know what, you’re a lot more cheekier like Beebee-Ate.” he observed. “And a bit naive.”

Why thank you very much, Master-Poe. You have to add that I’m a stubborn little droid as well. Jedi Master-Luke calls me that, by the way.

“Ah, I almost forgot that.” he chuckled lightly as they move along the path through the woods where his new home was, where his family was, and where the Uneti tree was located. “Does Uncle Luke cross your mind?”

Yes, Master-Poe. We had a lot of adventures when I was with him from time to time. But I can’t say much about what happened after he had gone.

“I know, Artoo,” he sighed sadly.

Until a sound of jubilant beeps and chirps approached as a spherical looking droid followed by a tiny cone shaped, rolled towards Poe.

“Beebee-Ate! Welcome back!” Poe exclaimed, dropping to his knees. He rubbed the droid’s body back as Beebee’s dome head jiggled excitedly like a child has returned from a long trip. “I really missed you, Buddy?”

Same to you, Master-Poe! Beebee beeps and chirps happily. It’s good to be home! What’s up, Artoo and you’ve been spending time with him!

Incredibly much, Beebee-Ate. Artoo replied. Master-Poe is happy you’ve come back.

“And how d’you enjoy crossing the galaxy with your Jedi Mistress-Rey?” he asked with a smile at Beebee. “Have you stuck with her?”

Yes, sir. She’s been keeping my antenna straight in case I get into trouble. We’ve traveled around to all the places, especially Tatooine.

“You mean Luke’s old homestead?”

Yes, sir.

Dio rolled closer to Poe. “Welcome back, Master-Poe.” he said calmly. He had been living there permanently as Poe’s second familiar. “How was the Senate meeting at Coruscant?”

Poe groaned as he nuzzled the droid’s cone head like a house pet. “Lot’s of reconstruction and other headaches, Little Buddy.” he smiled lightly. “Thanks for asking.”

He brought himself back to his feet as he was looked in the direction where he was going. “Is she there?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.” Dio replied.

Jedi Mistress-Rey has been at the tree in about an hour, Master-Poe. Beebee beeped in reply.

“What’s she doing?” asked Poe, looking at Beebee.

Meditating. Beebee double-beeped.

Poe looked over in the direction of the tree. He took a deep breath, glad of see Rey again. They had shared intimately at the forest of Ajan Kloss during an evening celebration. And it felt rewarding to him, as it was so very uncommon.

��Why don’t you guys go with Artoo and charge yourselves alright?” he said at the two. “I just need to speak alone with her.”

Beebee and Dio responded in the affirmative as they joining with Artoo and proceeded to the charging area. Poe resumes up the path, which finally opened into a clearing where he could almost feel her presence.

The ancient Force-sensitive Uneti tree stood there near the lake and his family’s old home, remodeled now as his own. Like The Great Tree at Coruscant, colorful fan-shaped leaves of gold and brown were attached to the coiled branches and stems of the large, twisted trunk.

Then Poe saw the enchanted tree, and near it a beautiful floating figure sat crossed-legged in the air with small boulders and rocks hovering slowly around her as the Force flowed through her. Her eyes were closed peacefully as she concentrated in a meditative trance that flowed between her and the tree.

Poe was silently impressed; he sat down on the grass, placing his flight helmet beside him. Then he stripped off his flight vest and placed it on top of the helmet as he watched the floating and reposed Rey. She had more beautiful since their first encounter on Crait where she had used her power to lift rocks. Looking at her now, Poe thought her once again of how she resembled an ancient Yavinesque goddess with her celestial objects surrounding her.

He’d never fallen in love with any woman in the galaxy before he found her. He had wanted her from the beginning when they first met at the Falcon, and now he loved having her in his life. Time was specifically a good thing when it came to General Dameron, who was gladly reunited with the lone scavenger from Jakku, now a fiercely independent Jedi after the tides of galactic war.

And it was something that he had faith in the ideal of his dauntless ally, his space goddess, his ray of sunshine, his beguiling sweetheart, and his beloved Jedi. She had returned for him.

Then a minute later, Rey had finally completed her meditation. She lowered herself neatly on the ground as the rocks fell around her.

Poe stood up and walked to her. “Hey, Sunshine,” he said to her.

Rey was aware of the familiar voice as she slowly opened her eyes and blinked. “Hey, Flyboy,” she replied breathlessly with a bright smile.

Poe took a quick step forward as Rey approached him and then wrapped her arms around him. At once all his aching memories of three unbearable months had finally lifted, and his eyes closed in bliss that as was back in his beloved Jedi’s arms. He tightened his hold around her waist and leaned against her chest as he inhaled the scent of her.

"I missed you,” she sighed softly.

“Same to you,” he murmured, his face buried in the crook between her neck and shoulder. “I’m surprised that you’re here.”

“Oh, I know. That’s why I came to see you, Poe,” she sniffed. “It’s been a long time since I was away.”

“I was worried while you were still out there.”

“More than your Force-sensitivity of tracking me?”

“Indubitably.” Poe lifted his head, raising his brows in a cocky manner and looked at her teary eyes. “I don’t want to spoil it too much, and it takes time,” he said meticulously, wiping her tears with his thumb.

“To be sure,” assured Rey.

He chuckled as his eyes mirroring hers while he stood in silence. It had been months since he and Rey had parted after leaving Ajan Kloss. There had been a lot of opportunities in their separate ways during the restoration of the New Republic, and some perks.

And he could see the truth in her eyes. Rey had missed him all these months since their fight against the Final Order, Emperor Palpatine, and his Sith Eternal, and she had come back to see him once again.

After disowning herself her Palpatine bloodline and adopting the Skywalker’s surname, Rey had made plans for the restoration and reorganization of the New Jedi Order––or maybe a search for the kybel crystal to build her own lightsaber from the parts of her staff.

She had returned to see Poe after her final trip to Tatooine. And either way, Poe was happy that Rey had come.

He began to move closer again until Rey spoke. “I hope you’re surprised I’m here with Beebee-Ate,” she noted. “He missed you.”

“Did he?”

She nodded slowly. “Uh-huh.”

“That’s my buddy,” he shrugged his shoulders with a sardonic grin as they gently pulled away. “And you’ve been flying Uncle Luke’s Red Five. What happened to your Falcon?”

“Lando asked me to borrow it for a while with Chewie,” she answered. “He told me the whole story about how his ship before he was beaten by Han in a card game.”

“That’s him, alright. He’ll never change a bit,” he sighed with a scoff, scratching the back of his head. “Are you going to stay for a while?”

“If you want me to,” she assured playfully, “then, I’m staying.”

“Good, I’m glad you’re welcome here, and you can stay as long as you like,” he said with a smirk. “Also, my Dad made some dinner for us tonight.”

“That’s sound’s wonderful,” she said in an optimistically.

Poe led her on a simple tour of the Force-sensitive tree. Despite growing up in the desert, Rey had already visited so many greens planets in the galaxy like Takodana and Ajan Kloss. But she was amazed at the exotic fields of Yavin 4 with its fresh breezes blowing through the Massassi trees, the scented fresh fruits of Koyo trees that Kes had planted, the bioluminescence of fresh flowers and lush green grasses, and the gleams of the late afternoon sun on the crystal-clear lake that shone with a lustrous and rare beauty.

As they strolled around under the tree in conversation, Rey noticed the renovated house nearby. “I can see the new home that you’ve to built over there. Is that the house where your parents lived?”

“Yup, I’m still restoring it,” he answered, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his fight uniform.

“Perhaps you need a hand. I’ve fixed a lot of stuff besides ships,” Rey glanced at him. “How about it, General Dameron?”

“Why not, Jedi Mistress Skywalker.” he was amused at the tone of her new surname. “A carpenter would be nicer to have around than a scavenger, a mechanic, or even a Jedi. But you only have a new lightsaber rather than a laser saw. Or maybe the Force would do–”

Instinctively, Rey quickly slapped his arm while Poe laughed with a cocky humor as they strolled. She ignored him as she is looked up to watch the gentle breeze moves through the branches of the Force-sensitive Uneti tree.

“Your father showed me this tree, and I can’t believe it’s so beautiful and mythical,” she said. “But it much seems so huge and different, unlike the one at Ahch-To.”

“It’s pretty awesome, huh? And it’s matured and more than I expected.” He walked to the trunk, but did not get close. “My mom helped Uncle Luke to cut two clippings a long time ago. So he gave her one as a thank you present.”

“So Luke has the other one at Ahch-To,” Poe continued. “and you’ve said there was a library underneath the trunk of the tree where the sacred Jedi texts kept.”

“That’s right, Poe.” she answered. “I returned the day on exile as when I saw the tree, it was burned down.”

Later, she stopped as Poe kept strolling. “Have you ever touched the tree?”

“Huh?” he blinked as he halted and turned back toward her.

“Did you?” she asked curiously.

“When I was thirteen, I was supposed to be close to the tree, but I’m afraid that was because I was being sensitive about staying away.” Then he swiftly glanced at her. “Later, I did at this point that I sat under the tree, and when I did, I felt the inside of me for the first time while I was napping.”

“Was it scary?” she asked.

Poe moved shyly away from her. “Nope, it’s childish. But sentimental.”

“Can you tell me, Poe?” Rey giggled, teasing him. “Come on.”

He turned back toward her again and looked down at the necklace that held his mother’s wedding ring around Rey’s neck. His expression was earnest as he moved towards her, and his fingers fiddling with the ring.

He took a patient breath and began. “I can only I remember what I felt about my mother and me. She was very close to me when I was a little boy. She would take me outside at night when my father was fast asleep. We went to the lake near the growing Force tree, we’d lie down on the grass and stared at the night sky.” Poe released the ring from his hand as he looked up at the afternoon sky. “Once, she pointed to the brightest star –– Caeli, the Bird Star of the galaxy. And it was a good sign; my mother promised me that I’d become the best pilot when I grew up, just like her.”

Poe missed his mom so much when he was with her. She had taught him advising and caring across the galaxy and over until he found himself in a place where the eyes of Shara Bey could not reach him.

“That was very touching, Poe,” she observed. “You missed your mom a lot?”

He sighed as he looked down at the surface roots between his feet, and he felt something like life, a presence, like the air through him. He cocked his head at her. “What about you, Sunshine?”

“What?” she puzzled.

“Have you touched or meditated through the tree?” he asked simply.

She took her breath with ease. “I felt it,” she replied with a simple nod.

“Was it scary or something?”

She shuddered slightly as Poe moved at her. “Hey, it’s alright I’m here with you.” he reassured her.

“It’s like a magnet pulling me, Poe,” she answered, and her eyes rose and met his. “It’s not scary. It replenishes me inside––the Force––through the way of the world, through my parents, Han, Luke and Leia, and Ben. I had cherished them as my faithfully as long as I wished for them. They’re in peace now, and I shall never regret it. The bond between Ben and me has been reconciled and purpose. I was very fond of him and remember him as a friend rather than an adversary. I embraced him with gratitude when he brought me back to life after I was defeated Palpatine and the Sith.”

Poe moved closer to her, brought her hand to his lips and softly kissed her knuckle. “Finn and I thought that you were gone there at Exegol.” he murmured with his breath hitched. “I…I’m––“

“I know, Poe,” she answered softly in a brittle tone. “But I live.”

He watched her in silence for a while, and before he could kiss Rey began to talk about something else.

“I was there in Coruscant,” she said. “At the service.”

He understood. He hadn’t seen her at the Monument Plaza during the service. “Finn told me that you’d left early,” he said.

“I wish I could’ve stayed for a while, but I had something to settle.” she nodded slowly. “That was a good speech, Poe. It was very...”

“Solacing,” he admits, cutting off Rey’s sentence.

Rey clasped both hands. “I’m sorry.”

He heaved a sigh and swallowed, looking more comforted than grieving. “I know, sweetheart. I don’t want to affect myself of having an ordeal like this. I miss everyone, especially Snap and Aunt Leia.”

She bowed her head sadly. “I understand.”

“Leia was your master after Uncle Luke, Rey,” he said.

“Yes,” she said calmly. “Master Leia taught me everything while I was at Ajan Kloss. She watched me what I’m doing, and it was with a patience between peace and calm. She told me about all the moments she treasure with Luke as he taught her every day. I miss her, and especially Master Luke, Poe.”

Rey recollected the motherly relationship with the master who trained her apprentice to refocus and free her mind from fear through the Force. She understood entirely that patience was the key of the Force.

Poe walked and stood beside her as he gazed at the fields. “Before we left on a mission in search of the Wayfinder, Leia said she was passing her torch to me to bring the Final Order down. And while I was at Exegol that I nearly failed or retreated, until the spark which had become a fire finally arrived with Lando and the entire fleet from the whole galaxy. They had done it, and Leia was right about what she’d said about new hope. I believe in her, Rey.”

Then a single tear fell from his eye, and he wiped it away. “Anyway, that was then before the war was over and it was time to move on. But i’m here now with my dad to start a new life, right from the start.”

He took a breath like he’s relaxed from bereavement as he runs his hand through his hair. “So, um…how’s Tatooine?” he asked. “Beebee-Ate told me.”

“Hot during the day, and cold at night,” she said, walking over and staring out at the lake as she felt the gentle wind behind her. “It looks fairly different than Jakku. And it’s not to be lightly traveled, that desert planet.”

“Did you find what you’ve looking for at Uncle Luke’s place?” he asked, watching the most beautiful Jedi he had ever seen standing on the very edge of the lake.

After exploring across the galaxy, and revisiting Ahch-To, her final stop had been the Lars homestead in the Great Chott flat on Tatooine. The moisture farm had remained abandoned, it was there where she buried Anakin and Leia's lightsabers. She stayed there for a while in peace and tranquility, staring at the striking blue and gold sunrise of the twin suns.

“Nothing special,” answered Rey after took a long breath. She picked up a small stone and threw and skipped it across the water. “But, there’s one who came and visited me before I left.”

“Luke?”

“No, it was Leia,” she said, turning her back to him. “She told me everything about Ben, about the pain he’d suffered, that there was still good inside of him, and she could feel it before she died.”

After a moment, Poe sighed as Rey went on. “Leia told me about you, Poe. Not so feisty as you’d think since when you were with her.”

“Oh, please,” he said like he’s was fooling around. “What was our second mom saying?”

“She wanted to know how you felt to be without guidance. Your instinct as a leader was genuinely unsurpassable, and it was such a difficult situation with what you did out there. She was pleased with you, Poe.”

Poe missed having Aunt Leia by his side during the war after Shara’s passing. He was just amazed by the miracles in the galaxy.

“When if she comes as a ghost to see you,” said Poe with a light smile. “tell her to say thank you, will you?”

“There’s more,” she said, this time sincerely. “Leia told me that I was her last wish for you��it’s because I’m your gift, Poe. I hadn’t noticed this before we met––”

Poe moved closer to her and felt the way her body relaxed against his. He placed his finger gently on her lips to silence her. “Enough, sweetheart. You’ve talked too much, and I know the exact words that she said to me.”

“Oh, there is something else,” she added with a sigh, leaning her forehead to his, and held her hands on his chest, clutching her fingers against the fabric of Poe’s flight uniform. “While I was still meditating with the tree, and I felt a presence that was unforgettable.”

They stood looking at each other in serenity and longing as the sunlight gleamed on the surface of the Yavinesque lake around them.

“It’s about us, Poe.” she whispered as her breath hitches. She closed her eyes like she was praying.

His heartbeat skipped a beat, and his eyes blinked as though he couldn’t believe what she was saying. “Tell me,” he murmured, as his eyes closed with hers.

“I remember at Crait when you were bewildering me while I used the Force to lift rocks and help you, Finn, and the rest of the Resistance to escape. Then we met at the Falcon, and as we shared about our pain by Ben and then Snoke, we were truly connected. Then we bickered with each other like feral Loth-cats about the Falcon being on fire because of your habit on lightspeed skipping,” Poe snorted at that as Rey lightly chuckled before continuing. “We fought alongside with Finn against the First Order from time to time. And while on a mission, you protected me that I fought my Palpatine bloodline against turning to the Dark Lord’s throne and falling to the Dark Side. And when I was ready for heading to Exegol to face my grandfather, were still arguing that I didn’t need you to safeguard or watch over me anymore. But you still protected me because you were deeply in love from the beginning without telling me.”

And Poe moved to hold her gently, then ran his hands smoothly along her arms and between her neck and her face. His head moved up as his lips brushed softly against her forehead. Rey flutters her eyes blissfully as she let her saying the words to flow. He whispered with kisses, from one of her eyelids to her cheek, and then that close to her mouth. Rey sighed with bliss and felt the feathery touch of his breath against her skin.

She went on: “Then the other day during the victory celebration, the night we shared each other in the deep of the forest when we made love...as the Force enlivened inside of our deepest emotions we shared, and preserved this moment forever. And when we left Ajan Kloss at dawn in our separate ways, I felt that my presence was inside still in your heart and soul, and that you would be waiting for me when I returned from across the galaxy. And now…” she paused for a second with her eyes opened, and Poe instantly stopped kissing her while his eyes stared lovingly at hers. “Poe?”

“What?” he asked, his expression beguiling.

“Why did you stop?” she asked, begging him to continue in his dawdling manner.

“Why did you stop,” he asked. “I wouldn’t know until you allow me to say so.”

Her breath hitched, then she choked up like she was almost crying, and they were both quiet for a moment until her face rested on his shoulder and Poe moved his hand to gently fondle her head.

“I came for you, Poe,” she declared softly at last with her eyes closed. “And I’m here…right here.”

He smiled peacefully, pressing his lips against the crown of her head. “Well, you’re here right now, my Lady Jedi,” he replies. “And I love you.”

With hindsight, she took his hand from her head and placed it gently on her abdomen.

Poe‘s eyes were stunned and surprised, and his mouth parted in wonder. Rey cocked her head to face him and smiled at him.

“No way,” he stammered, furrowing his brows. “Rey, you’re––”

“Does it surprise you, General?”

As their heartbeats touched each other’s chest, Poe’s permission was written into the desperation of with which his mouth met hers, something like a sense of contentment that he shared with her. He wanted more than anything is to be with her eternally.

Two hearts and one home. Poe discerned in thought.

“So you’re staying with me, Rey,” Poe said as his eyes gleamed and smirked. “And if you live to be a hundred?”

Rey laughed joyfully. Tears flowed down on her cheeks, and he gently wiped them away with his thumb. “I hope to live to be a hundred minus a day.” she sniffed in jest.

He chuckled thoughtfully with one brow widened. He nodded and caressed Rey’s face as she looked at him. “So that I never have to live a day without you.”

She leaned her forehead against his. The Force inspirited their emotions because of love, and the heart of the galaxy was forever changed.

“I love you, Space Porg.” she murmured.

Instead of calling her ‘Desert Rat,’ he decided to call her from now on.

“I know, Buttercup,” he answers softly, pulling her gently and returning his lips to hers. “I know.”

#damereydaily2020 #damerey #poe x rey #poe dameron #rey skywalker #damerey fic #star wars fanfiction #star wars #star wars nothing but star wars #13. if you live to be a hundred #21. two hearts and one home #may the queue be with you #may the force be with you #post canon

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margridarnauds · 6 years ago

Note

for the otp ask meme: ronan/peyrol and/or bres/sreng; 2, 9, 15

Thanks!

2. How do they wake up next to each other?

For Lazare and Ronan, it depends on the night. In the very early days, Lazare very rarely stuck around long enough for Ronan to really wake up to him, being gone at least an hour or so before daybreak, when Ronan tends to gets up. As time went on and he realized that it was important to give Ronan attention/affection, he grew to like it, liked the stability of having Ronan THERE and knowing that he was. Sometimes, they’ll fall asleep with Ronan settling his head into Lazare’s neck and they wake up like that. (And then the first thing Lazare’s aware of is Ronan playing with his hair, which he is never willing to admit that he likes.) Sometimes, one of them has a nightmare (generally Lazare, but as time goes on, Ronan gets his demons as well, and more than his fair share of ghosts) and startles, generally needing a little bit of time to relax before they try to go to sleep again. Sometimes, Ronan spreads out, taking up most of the bed (and the blankets). Sometimes, they wake up facing one another, legs entangled so that there’s real way to tell the two apart, and there’s a moment or so when they can think “Oh my God, we actually made it.”

Since Sreng is repeatedly referred to in-text as HUGE (The Fir Bolg’s description: ”For he is big and fierce, and bold to spy on hosts and interview strangers, and uncouth and terrifying to behold.” Bres’ description of him: “A big, powerful, fierce man…with vast, wonderful weapons, truculent and hardy withal, without fear of any man”) while Bres doesn’t get the same description, I tend to think that they have a height difference, so Bres just…..flops on top of him. Possibly slightly more dignified than that but still. Sreng makes a very nice, warm pillow and Bres has high standards for this kind of thing. And, barring anyone Bres flopping around, they probably wake up in a similar way, with Bres sometimes nuzzling against Sreng, especially post-Cath Maige Tuired when I think that Bres would become increasingly clingy.

9. When their partner has a bad day, what is something the other picks up to try and make their day a little better?

Ronan - Tends to get either coffee (Laz drinks STRICTLY black, in both the Modern and the Canon verse) and/or chocolate, depending on just how bad a day we’re talking about. (If Artois is anywhere in the vicinity, it’s a “both” kind of day.) @lehetsz-kiraly and I somehow decided a while ago that, like his Toho actor, Laz is a chocoholic. Albeit a very, very closeted one who tends to blame Ronan for the various and assorted chocolates that are stuffed around the house (Oka Kojiro is a delight to follow on Instagram but my GOD does the man love his sweets. And….every other type of food. Do NOT go on his account if you happen to have an empty stomach.) So, Ronan brings the chocolate and makes a BIG deal over not being able to finish it after 1-2 pieces and can’t just let it go stale, you know (because….subtlety….Ronan….they don’t match).

Also has been known to bring Lazare lunches to his office, on the days when he gets so engrossed in his work he forgets to eat, and tends to try to find ways of distracting him, because he knows that Lazare has the tendency of brooding on this sort of thing and generally just needs a way of getting away from it for a little while. (For all that he rags on Lazare for mother-henning him, he can be JUST as bad, being the one most statistically likely to make a nuisance of himself before Lazare gives in and takes care of himself. Ronan might have a bit of a puppy dog personality, but he has a cat’s habit of sitting on Lazare’s lap, blocking the keyboard, etc. when SOMEONE doesn’t listen.)

Laz - Lazare…tends to go casual, on the days when Ronan’s off. Not FULLY casual, because it’s still LAZ. We’re still not going to see him dead in, say, a pair of jeans, but he bends a little bit more. Fast food? He might cut his hamburger into tiny pieces and then poke at them like he’s a scientist working on a lab experiment, but he’ll do it. Lounging on the couch and watching Shape of Water with Ronan, despite claiming that he has no interest in this sort of thing? He’ll do it. And if seeing his boyfriend making that kind of effort for his sake doesn’t make Ronan cheer up at least a little, then seeing his awkward attempts at behaving like a Normal Functioning Human Being™ will.

Sreng - For some reason, I see Sreng as being much less…big on getting THINGS so much as reassuring Bres and being outwardly affectionate. Sreng’s odd because on one hand, he was born the son of a king and he grew up the brother of a king, until Fodbgen was killed by Eochaid mac Eirc. And, even then, he’s STILL described as being (along with his brothers Semne and Sithbrug) the Fir Bolg King of “The province of Cú Roi” (Modern Munster) when the Tuatha dé arrive, so he’s STILL in the upper, upper ranks of the nobility. Despite the “uncouth and terrifying to behold” description, this is NOT someone who’s exactly having to scavenge in the forest for his next meal. In some ways, he’s actually BETTER BORN than Bres, at least if we’re talking about the context of Cath Maige Tuired, since he’s IN with the tribe in a way that Bres ISN’T with the Tuatha dé (or, really, even with the Fomorians). But then, with the Tuatha dé’s victory, the Fir Bolg become unsettled, in at least some stories being reduced to refugees or servitude (AGAIN) and he loses a lot of that prestige, so he can’t really…PROVIDE that to Bres on the same level (Which…honestly, has to sting Sreng’s pride at least a little). All he can really provide is himself, and so he does. Like, Bres gets home and then he’s got Sreng gently rubbing his shoulders. Or he falls asleep in the middle of planning a strike against the Tuatha dé, face down on a table somewhere, and the next thing he knows, he’s waking up in his own bed, Sreng beside him, rubbing his back. During the CMT era in particular, Bres NEEDS that reassurance and that affection; he’s got the material help from his father, but he doesn’t have any SUPPORT except for his mother and Sreng. (Alright, and the kids, but they’re…his KIDS. He’s not going to tell the full truth to them, even when they’re Adults™.)

Bres - Bres totally brings the punny cards, in keeping with my ongoing theme of Dad Joke Bres. Sreng rolls his eyes, but he keeps them all anyway, in a small wooden chest that he keeps his “Things that I’ll take if I’m forced to move suddenly” in and looks at them when Bres can’t be there for one reason or another. Lugh intercepts them at one point and tries to run them through every. Single. Cipher and way of deciphering secret messages that he can, thinking there’s some hidden wordplay in there. Ogma is the one who has to gently break it to him that, no, Bres is just Like That, there is not actually a secret message written in invisible ink on there. Though the jury’s still out on whether any one of the Tuatha dé…realize EXACTLY what they mean. “They swore a vow of friendship long ago, Lugh”

15. Things they do for one another because they know their partner hates it?

In any modern AU where he can’t fall back on servants, Peyrol takes care of anything when it comes to cleaning and cooking. Partially because he knows Ronan hates it and partially because he is TERRIFIED of the results otherwise. (Modern AU Ronan can make ramen and various and assorted microwave meals and that is pretty much it. And Lazare wants his place to still be standing.)

Also in any AU where they stay together long enough to get pets, Lazare’s the one who tends to let them out, because even though he SAID that they were going to be Ronan’s primary responsibility, he couldn’t find it in himself to wake Ronan up the first time they started pawing at him to be let out.

Ronan tends to help Lazare with getting dressed, given that he’s never trusted a valet enough for that duty and it’s difficult for one person to do and even if he did, Ronan REALLY doesn’t necessarily want someone in the room with him and Lazare, no thank you, he didn’t have much privacy growing up but he’s not going to have a STRANGER seeing him half-naked at best with his boyfriend. And Lazare doesn’t want a giant neon sign that says “I’m gay, please report me to law enforcement.” He grumbles about the different layers, on why the aristocracy makes everything so complicated just to show off how rich they are, but he also loves having that intimacy.

Bres - This is cliche as fuck but do I care? No. No I do not. Bres tends to specialize in anything involving planning things; outfits, feasts, etc. He might HATE being social, but he likes the presentation of it. Whereas, as discussed below, Sreng’s better at the social aspect and less at the presentation. This did backfire on Sreng one Halloween when Bres had them go as Louis and Lestat. The 18th-19th century were BRES’ centuries, not Sreng’s.

Also, Bres tends to do better when it comes to taking care of animals. Not in a “sweet summer child laying in a field with puppies” way, but anything from the equipment to making sure Babgiter doesn’t chew up Sreng’s cloak again. (He has given a very stern lecture to the pig about this before. Babgiter didn’t look overly convinced.) In general, when it comes to agriculture, Bres excels, whereas Sreng is more fundamentally a warrior and an aristocrat. (I swear that I didn’t INTENTIONALLY wind up with another farmer/aristocrat duo, it just…happened.) I don’t really see Bres as being actively involved like ANOTHER farmer would be, because he’s still…a nobleman…albeit a very….unorthodox one, and for a nobleman to take up manual labor DRASTICALLY lowered his honor price, especially a former king like Bres, but he takes a more active management role, whereas Sreng isn’t really interested in it more than he has to be in order for his people to eat for another year. And, if Bres wants to take control of that aspect of things, GREAT. It keeps his boyfriend occupied in something that he loves for a change and it gives Sreng one less headache.

Sreng - Despite outwardly appearing like the less socially inclined of the pair, Sreng’s actually BETTER with dealing with people, in the long run. Bres…is a bit of a disaster when it comes to handling people according to their rank and sometimes lets his mouth run ahead of him, even after he becomes more mature and level headed following his expulsion from the throne, whereas Sreng….might not like them, but he also has a lifetime of experience as far as treating people as society says they need to be treated even if he collapses afterwards, so, any time the two of them are in a position where they have to deal with people, Sreng tends to field the most stress-inducing conversations. Though, when it comes to the family, Bres is on his own because Sreng does NOT want to deal with the Dagda or Bres’ terrifying aunts more than absolutely necessary. (Badb in particular tends to feel like she’s just waiting for the chance to tear him apart, black eyes never fully leaving him, and even though Bres assures him that that’s normal, Sreng’s oddly not convinced.)

Also, even though Bres loves his children FIERCELY and doesn’t hate spending time with them, there are times where he’s too exhausted to deal with six kids all clamoring for his attention, so Sreng’s been known to distract them. (AKA “How Indusa first learned how to handle a sword.”)

#1789 les amants de la bastille #irish mythology #bres mac elathan #sreng mac sengann #ronan mazurier #lazare de peyrol #fallenidol-453 #long post #otp: He would be troubled if you died on him

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gutterdreams · 7 years ago

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Mummify [B. Hargrove]

Disclaimer: I don’t own Stranger Things or the GIF used below. Word Count: 1.7k MASTERLIST

Just sat down and wrote. Let whatever come out, come out. Please, enjoy.

Like Play-doh, sleep sat tacky in the corner of his eyes as they fluttered open without rhythm. The sun was soft as it slid in between the blinds over his windows, but it felt as if it was screaming as Billy woke up in bed, a vile taste of the night marinating on his tongue. His rough, dry hand reached up to massage his face, but rested on his unshaven chin where the preserved though scaly vomit from the night before sat as if it was waiting to be acknowledged. Billy turned his hand slightly and used his wrist to wipe it away.

He closed his eyes again and groaned while naturally rolling over to his side. The sheets beneath his upper body pulled slightly and, with the side of his face pushed into his pale blue pillow case, he opened up his eyes and feasted them on an unchanged memory. Slumberous and syrupy, you were stretching your arms above your sleepyhead and yawning through wide open lips. Your favorite Revlon red still faintly over your formerly cushion-like lips. As you wiggled around, Billy's top blanket fell and exposed your perfect chest, erect nipples and all.

Unsure of how you came to be there, Billy still smiled and watched as you rolled around on your shoulder blades until you settled back on the mattress, eyes beginning to flutter open unaffected by the sun.

“You're here...” Billy's voice was quiet, as if he didn't really believe what he was seeing or saying. His fingers uncurled underneath the pillow, but he didn't reach out to touch you. It was like he was scared you might vanish in a puff of colorful smoke if he made contact.

Eyes wide open, they grinned at him first as your head lazily moved to the side, “Don't you remember last night?” You sort of laughed as you asked with a gentle head shake.

Last night, he had gone to Francine Bell's birthday party. It started as a quiet get-together in a bare field past the forest, sitting on the hoods of cars or a few tailgates, shotgunning beers and making fun of each other. It was just before midnight when Pat O'Grady and Ronald Wolchuk drove by to signal that the coast was clear and they could all head over to Donna Daily's and get right smashed. He remembered being quiet against the Camaro and drinking beer that Carol brought. He remembered pulling Tommy by the collar of his grey shirt, removing him violently from Carol's face and off his car, and speeding the whole way to Donna's while way over the legal limit. He knew that he arrived at the Laneway house, he knew that he walked right over Lydia Willis sobbing to her friends by the front door, he remembered stalking between Pat who was in the middle of getting told off by his ex-girlfriend, Kathleen. Billy knew that he was standing around a keg and telling a story about the time he messed Harrington up a little before Christmas, but he couldn't place the moment where you arrived. He must have been drunk out of his mind, or maybe he had stopped drinking long enough to toke up. It was the only reasonable explanation for how he would have missed your entrance. He had imagined you parting through the drab small town crowd so many times, your fingers against your collarbone, hugging yourself in a low cut blouse, and all the Exodus lyrics in his head pausing long enough so that the doves that followed you around could chirp harmoniously.

“You were a mess.” Interrupting his mental scavenger hunt, you shifted in his small bed and moved your foot between his legs, sliding it down until you two were mildly tangled. “You had beer dripping off of your chin, fresh from one of your keg stands...” Your eyes rolled right as he guessed they would. It was nice to see that some things hadn't changed. You were still just as enchanted by his exhibitionist nature as you were unamused. “You let me clean you up.” Under the covers, though closer to him, you were still squirming like an unattainable tease. “Then you showed me off to all your little spectators...” Billy was intrigued, a small child desperate to know what happened after the Big Bad Wolf huffed and puffed and blew the second little pig's house down. His eyes widened and tried to keep you in focus. “We went to the Camaro...we left marks all over one another...” Two fingers curled around the top of the blanket that was clinging to you like a sundress, you pulled it down and revealed three marks that revealed how Billy had lost control at the mere sight of your flesh. There was a small deep purple spot right over one nipple while the other two were higher up near your clavicle. With your other hand, you tapped one finger down his chest and brought his attention to the single hickey sitting in the spot between his shoulder and neck where your head used to rest when frightened or tired. “It felt like magic.” Legs wiggling around his, you moaned and put your head back with a wild smile that didn't hide any of your feelings.

Billy finally reached forward and pulled you in, pushing your warm chest against his and growled hungrily before letting his hands roam free over your body and then putting his mouth right next to one of the spots he left the night before.

“How long are you staying for?” He only interrupted himself at the sound of feet moving on the other side of his bedroom door. They weren't heavy steps like the ones he had memorized that belonged to his Dad, they weren't accompanied by nervous breathing like they would be if it was Susan, so he figured it was just Max waking up and going to the kitchen or bathroom. Still, it reminded Billy that his real life was just a few steps and one door knob twist away.

“Oh, baby...” Biting down on your bottom lip, you moved away from him and giggled into the pillow before looking back into his blue eyes. He was studying you, anxious for a response. “I won't leave you like you left me.”

“It wasn't like that, hey - “ His brows stitched together above his eyes as they constricted from fast frustration. He couldn't properly put together a thought before you were gone. Billy was left with his hands on his own chest and his eyes begrudgingly opening to the sun that was demanding attention from the window. He had forgot to draw the blinds like he had wanted to the day before when the morning woke him up unkindly. Billy picked at the sleep sitting in the corner of his eyes and rolled onto his side.

Last night he earned himself a two hundred pound headache from drinking himself into a state of oblivion. He hadn't the slightest clue how he even made it home, let alone undressed and in bed. He felt a stain from vomit on the tip of his chin and then groaned before stuffing his face directly into his pillow.

Of course, you weren't there. He was still in Hawkins, Indiana. He was still drinking someone else's Pabst, he was still waking up alone, and he was still stuck. One hand slid out from under the pillow and he combed it mindlessly through his hair until he reached his neck and squeezed at a swollen spot. There was a hickey and it prompted him to lift up his head and look to the left where his mirror was leaning against the wall. Brown in color and big enough that he knew Susan would point it out from just walking by, Billy shrugged. He couldn't remember who gave it to him, but he hoped they weren't a total butterface.

It made him wonder if you were decorated with any weekend prizes like the one he woke up to. Maybe, no one was leaving marks on your chest like he used to love to. He had been possessive, but it was also playful. Billy loved the way your back arched as he attached his mouth to your bust and how your hips would collide with his stomach. You never could sit still when he touched or teased you. Thinking again, Billy considered that, maybe, everyone was leaving marks on you now. You were free from him now. He bet Derek Crosby was. The freckle faced baseball player always fantasized about being with you despite being one of Billy's childhood friend. Everybody knew it.

When he finally forced himself up out of bed, knowing that his Dad would be openly disappointed if he slept in too deeply, Billy tossed on a pair of sweat shorts and a white muscle shirt from his hamper. Susan was spineless by nature it seemed, but she was strict about the males of the house walking around with shirts on especially if they were in the kitchen. She didn't have much to say when Neil roared or chose name-calling over open forum conversation, but she could rant when Billy drank orange juice against the fridge in only shorts.

His feet were heavy on the floor, greeted by the sound of the morning news on the television in the living room. He was working up the voice to say 'hello' and mean it when he walked by Susan and his dad on the couch, but he stopped at the sight of phone sitting on the window sill in the small area between his and Max's bedroom. Your number went through his head at light speed, memorized and melodic. Shifting the weight on his feet, he considered calling as he had often since moving from California to Indiana last summer, but Billy stopped himself and stretched his arms out to wake them up.

It was a long distance number and he knew that cost wouldn't go over well when the phone bill arrived at the end of the month. It wasn't as if you wanted to hear from the lousy boyfriend who took off without a word anyway.

@fireismysaftey @stevesharrlngtons @daddyslittlemunster @stephaniecats @kaliforniacoastalteens @princessnancy @penguinlover15 @gemgemswift @inspiredbynewt @steveharrigntons @xeuphorically-moonstruck

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove au #billy hargrove one shot #billy hargrove stranger things #stranger things imagine #dacre montgomery imagine

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schmidtchristmasmarket · 4 years ago

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Thinking of getting out of town this Christmas? Why not head out to Salem, Oregon?

Salem is a capital city that is full of parks and gardens, but it also has a metro vibe. Landmarks include the domed Oregon State Capitol that contains an art collection by Oregon artists. You will also want to check out sites like the Hallie Ford Museum of Arts, the Willamette Heritage Center and the Bush House Museum.

The sights of Oregon look especially appealing when they are lit up for the Christmas holiday. Here are some things you’ll want to check out when you’re in town.

The Salem Riverfront Carousel

Riverfront Park is a 23-acre park located along the Willamette River. It includes a Discovery Village, an amphitheater, an eco-friendly earth globe, an outdoor sculpture a community art project and a carousel.

The carousel is especially magical to ride at Christmastime when it doubles as a Food Drive. All donations of canned food benefit the Marion Polk Food Share.

Tree Lighting at Riverfront Park

Riverfront Park is also the site of a special tree lighting ceremony. Taking place in early December, the lighting is led by the mayor who is assisted by one lucky child in flicking the switch.

Other festivities include a visit form Santa, hot chocolate and cookies, live reindeer, holiday bell ringing, a letter to Santa station, musical performances by a local choir, a scavenger hunt, holiday craft making and visits with the Salem Fire Department and Salem’s Park Ranger.

The park stays lit up for the entire holiday season making it a great place to stroll through, especially at night.

Go Ice Skating

Riverfront Park is also the site of the Salem on Ice ice-skating rink. It is open every day through the holiday season with extended hours on Christmas and Christmas Eve.

Miracle of Christmas Lights Display

Salem residents are known for going all out when it comes to Christmas decorations. You can drive around looking at the various neighborhoods but one you won’t want to miss out on is the Gubser Neighborhood.

The neighbors in the area make Christmas a formal event hosting the Miracle of Christmas Lights display. Guests can walk or drive through and follow the signs to enjoy the festivities.

Like the carousel in Riverside Park, this also doubles as a fundraising event for the Marion Polk Food Share. Guests are encouraged to bring a canned food item to donate.

Search for Ornaments in the Willamette National Forest

If you enjoy scavenger hunts, the Willamette National Forest is the place to be.

Every year, the park rangers scatter 200 ornaments throughout the forest. Guests who find the ornaments have a chance to win packages that may include dinner, an activity or an overnight stay in a local hotel.

The ornaments don’t get found easily. In 2019, only forty of the 200 items had been found by mid-December. Be sure to check the Forest’s website for clues as to where they may be.

Once you find an ornament, rangers encourage you to post a picture on social media alongside the hashtags “findyourornament or #findyourtrail.

Celebrate the Holidays at the Oregon State Capitol

The capitol building is a must see for anyone visiting Oregon. It has a stripped-down classical design, and it sits in a structure with various parks and gardens. It features a variety of artwork including large relief sculptures on the exterior. It also has interior exhibits that represent Oregon’s culture.

Every year, the Capitol hosts a tree lighting celebration that includes a choir performance, free photos with Santa, cookies and punch.

Christmas at the Willamette Heritage Center

The Willamette Heritage Center is dedicated to the preservation and interpretation of mid-Willamette Valley History. It contains fourteen historic structures, permanent and changing exhibits, a research library, a textile center and rentable event spaces. Its campus houses art galleries, retail shops and cooperative artist studios.

Every year, the Heritage Center hosts several festive events including the following:

· Volunteer Light Hanging: Be a part of the fun by volunteering to hang lights around the center in preparation for the holidays.

· Razzle Dazzle Holiday Review: The Razzle Dazzle Theater Troupe puts on a special holiday presentation.

· Family Fun Saturday: Family Fun takes place every second Saturday at the center and offers a variety of craft projects families can enjoy. The December event promises holiday themed fun.

· Magic at the Mill: Magic at the Mill is a five-night event that includes thousands of twinkling lights, live music, living history exhibits and workshops, demonstrations and more.

Salem Holiday Market

Looking to get a jump on your holiday shopping? The Salem Holiday Market is the perfect place to do it.

The market is held at the State Fairgrounds over the course of one weekend in mid-December. 250 vendors are on hand selling handmade, handcrafted and homegrown products. You can also find Santa’s Village, a Gingerbread House, Tree Decorating Contests, live music and great food on the grounds.

Check out Holiday Entertainment at the Elsinore Theatre

The Elsinore Theatre is a historic theater in downtown Salem and a great place to catch movies and live performances. During the holiday season, they show a variety of holiday classic movies as well as live performances of The Nutcracker and A Christmas Story.

Christmas at Deepwood Museum and Garden

The Deepwood Museum & Gardens is a historic house that dates back to 1894. Guests can visit on Saturdays in early December to enjoy an open house event. Hand made ornaments hang from the trees that are scattered throughout the home to provide a distinctly Victorian holiday vibe.

Santa Claus is on hand for visits in the Solarium and Victorian dressed hostesses are located throughout the home to answer guest’s questions.

The Museum also hosts a holiday market event that coincides with the open house. It’s a great place to find holiday decorations, vintage items, home décor and more. All proceeds benefit the Museum’s care and preservation.

If you are looking for a terrific holiday destination, you really can’t beat Salem, OR. Its vintage meets metro vibe makes it the perfect city to spend Christmas in. Which of these activities will you be adding to your ‘must-do’ list?

Read more of A Christmas Blog or Shop Now at Schmidt Christmas Market

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reubscubes · 8 years ago

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Horizon Zero Dawn: ReubsCubes Review

Mankind has a few standout achievements. The Wheel, Fire, Internet, cheesecake. Sadly however, the list does not include robot dinosaurs. And until such time as the scientists of the world rectify this grievous error, videogames will have to make it up to us. I can only assume that was the opening of the design document for Horizon Zero Dawn, because this the best thing since Cheesecake.

The following contains spoilers for Horizon Zero Dawn. I will attempt to keep overall plot points and character moments vague, but if you’ve not played the game then proceed at your own risk.

Tumblr ReubsCubes Twitter ReubsCubes

I love dinosaurs. Love is a strong word and it is exactly the one I want to use. I was obsessed with them as a child, dragged my long suffering parents to the Museum of Natural History at every opportunity and Jurassic Park remains one of my favourite movies. As a consequence I am incapable of being objective about anything involving dinosaurs, large aquatic or avian reptiles and almost all megafauna in general.

But my predilections for animatronic extinct reptiles aside, HZD is already a contender for my favourite game of this year. Please note that I haven’t played Neir Automata, Resident Evil 7, Persona 5, Mass Effect Andromeda, Breath of the Wild, Torment: Tides of Numenera or any other fantastic games that came out in 2017.

Horizon (and i’m choosing to shorten the name because the whole thing is a really awful mouthful) tells the story of Aloy, a young woman born under mysterious circumstances into a primitive world that humans share with gigantic highly advanced machines, in a world that is clearly our own, an unknown time after some kind of apocalypse. As Aloy attempts to understand more about her own origins she is drawn into conflict with a evil cult known as The Eclipse and must battle for the fate of the world. Along the way she discovers more about the long gone old ones and the secrets of her origin.

Nothing particularly out of the ordinary there, naive but intelligent hayseed sets out to find their place in the world and finds evil deathcult. Friends are made, difficulties overcome and we all learn a few precious lessons about friendship, family and how entitled tech sector dickheads will be the downfall of us all.

The world itself is more interesting than either the bog standard medieval fantasy or nuke blasted post apocalypse might be. Rather than the immediate aftermath of the calamity, where people are trying to rebuild their societies and loves with the shattered remains of the world they’ve lost, the time and distance between the old world and the societies that have followed after are much more pronounced. There’s a lot of sun and nature worship and even the most basic and obvious facts about our world have been lost in time. Case in point, the scholar in the city of Meridian who’s convinced coffee cups were ceremonious vessels used in holy rituals, as opposed to cheap tat mass produced to drink instant coffee from. The issue of instant coffee itself never comes up as presumably nescafe did not survive the downfall of humanity.

Women are at the forefront in Horizon Zero dawn. Aloy’s belongs, ostensibly, to a tribe called the Nora. They have a tribal society where led by a group of venerable women called the Matriarchs and worship a goddess they call the All-Mother. There doesn’t seem to be much in the way of proscribed gender roles for men and women, they all share in hunting and fighting and childrearing. Members of the tribe are of various different ethnic backgrounds, although again in a post apocalypse racial origin become a little vague. It’s a pretty equal society for all genders and races and a society that respects and elevates women is pretty rare, especially in the overly macho world of videogames. Diversity is dealt with pretty well, gay and trans characters are given plot lines and backstories that don’t hide their identities, but also don’t get caught up pointing out how inclusive they’re being. The interaction with the character of Jeneva, the warden of Sunstone Rock prison, is a particular standout. But it’s not all sunshine and rainbow in the valley of the Nora.

The Nora are a fair and equal society true but they’re also intensely superstitious and insular. They see themselves as one of the chosen people and anyone who leaves their blessed homelands is not allowed to return. Aloy was raised s one of the outcast, the members of the tribe exiles for various crimes. The Nora only ever treat her with disdain or fear and as a result she has even less respect for their customs and traditions as you might expect. Aloy cares about people and wants to do what she can to help them but has absolutely no patience for their restrictive belief systems.

The characters are noble but flawed in all too believable ways. This kind of excellent writing defines the world of horizon. The world is a mix of ancient cultures mixed with hyper advanced technology. The world is full of machines, technology so far beyond the imagination of the people in the world around it regard it as the magic of the gods. Which bring me to the most impressive part of Horizon’s incredibly detailed and designed world. The machines.

Holy mechanical t-rex they’re amazing! Most open worlds populate themselves with flora and fauna to hunt and be hunted by. Whether it’s the more grounded animals from the Far Cry series or the creatures of european myth that haunt the fields and forests of the Witcher, worlds are defined in a very significant way by the creatures that roam them. And the machines of of Horizon are spectacular, in design and execution. Based at least partly on real life animals mixed with the stylized technology, they’re the apex predators of Aloy’s world. Many of the designs, like the Behemoths and Watchers, recall prehistoric animals, but even the more recognisable critters like Grazers and Lancehorns straddle the line between beautiful and practical.

If the machines themselves are spectacular then the places they’re built are even moreso. The cauldrons are secret caves deep within mountains at the edges of the world where the machines are built. Once it has been located and the outer perimeter breached, either by solving a puzzle or overcoming the powerful machines guarding the gates, then Aloy can descend into a puzzle dungeon that would not seem out of place in Legend of Zelda. These environments are absolutely beautiful and more than a little eerie. And once you realise what they are and how they work you’ll want to run through them all again.

Where Horizon differentiates itself from a lot of other games in the genre is how it expects you to hunt its wildlife. You don’t have the firepower or defense to go in guns blazing so instead you have to use stealth and manipulate the environment to bring down the beasts. Aloy is armed with only a bow and arrow and a few gadgets like trip wires to take down sentient robots capable of crushing her underfoot. You can’t go up against a herd of Tramplers and expect to melee them to death. Much more likely they’ll trample you. Hence the name.

Instead you have to pick your moment, analyse the weaknesses of each type of machine, (a process which becomes easier and more natural as the game progresses) choose the type of ammo then set your traps. Then, when halfway through your perfectly constructed ambush a lone Ravager suddenly dives into the melee and ruins your painstaking set up you have to improvise feverishly to try to salvage the situation or at the very least not die. There are shades of Witcher and Monster Hunter to the combat, even some Shadow of the Colossus. Like the titular Colosi, the machines feel like part of the world, and feeling the more majestic creatures is almost tragic.

Once the beasts have been felled they can be scavenged for parts, although this whole system does feel underdeveloped. There two types of collectables that you can harvest from enemies but most of them only really need to be used once or twice. You can sell them for money but that leads to you having far more than you can possibly spend. After a little while it becomes a little tedious to hunt machines for its own sake. Although the combat is reminiscent of monster hunter it has a very long way to go before it matches that franchise as far as rewarding players goes.

That a slightly unfulfilling crafting system is the worst thing horizon has going for it is indicative of how excellent a game it is. The world manages to be familiar and brand new all at once, and the same applies to the mechanics of its open world. Guerilla games have created something very special in horizon and I hope that we’ve got lots more of it to look forward to.

Thanks for reading!

#horizon zero dawn #horizonzerodawn #hzd #hzd spoilers #guerrilla games #guerillagames #playstation #video games #videogames #review

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fitnesshealthyoga-blog · 6 years ago

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New Post has been published on https://fitnesshealthyoga.com/8-minimalist-vacation-packing-tips-i-absolutely-swear-by/

8 Minimalist Vacation Packing Tips I Absolutely Swear By

I’m an under-packer by nature. I try to travel with one carry-on only (usually a backpack)—even when I’m leaving the country for a while and even when I’m traveling with my 3-year-old son. Sounds crazy, I know. And while it’s true this method has occasionally led me to seriously questionable hiking footwear (and definitely led me to 10 days in Scandinavia with only one pair of pants), for the most part, it is a truly liberating way to travel. Doing a one-backpack trip forces me to sit down and think about what I—and my son—truly need and what we can live with out. It almost turns last-minute packing an hour before the airport drive into a moving meditation on materialism and our existence as a human society… almost.

But even with the most minimalist of packing, I usually end up on a vacation with a decidedly un-minimalist schedule—and an overburdened frame of mind. There are hotels to book and tours to take and sights to see and reservations to make, not to mention inevitable souvenir shopping that completely undoes the whole one-backpack logic in the first place.

And after a week or so of that plus who knows how many flights/hours on the road? Well, I end up back home needing a vacation from my vacation. Sound familiar?

That’s why I decided it was time for me, the minimalist packer, to become and actual minimalist traveler—to plan a vacation that involved bringing, using, planning and doing as little as possible. Enter the plastic tiny house, a 170-square-foot energy-efficient home chilling (or rather, heating up) in the desert outside Phoenix, Arizona. (It was designed by Tiny House Nation host Zack Giffin, NBD). Just by the nature of choosing this as my temporary home, I was already hopping on the minimalist bandwagon. This particular 170-square-foot and super-energy-efficient tiny house made of plastic is a testimony to how little we can use if we just think creatively (and a sink that feeds gray water directly into the toilet system doesn’t hurt).

Image: Courtesy of Tony Marinella.

That’s right. I headed to the Arizona desert in August to spend my vacation in 170 square feet with the bare necessities, no other humans and certainly no restaurant reservations. And just to make my minimalist vacation extra-official, I brought: one pair of shoes, six items of clothing (including underwear) and a toothbrush/toothpaste. And that’s it. And it was the best vacation I’ve taken in a long time.

Image: apedelman/Instagram.

So if you’re the type who thinks travel has to involve endless planning, scheduling, packing multiple suitcases, booking hotels, tours and dining options, think again. This is how deciding to take that minimalist vacation to a tiny house in the desert, packing essentially nothing, changed the game for this traveling mom.

Image: Courtesy of Jennifer Verrier.

Why you should take a minimalist vacation

It’s cheaper

That part’s a given. If you’re doing less, you’re spending less. Aim to spend on the bare-bones.

Lodging: No hotels! Aim for an affordable Airbnb, or better yet, arrange a free home exchange through a site like Kid & Coe.

Transportation: Bonus if you drive or take public transport to your destination rather than flying.

Food: Groceries, not restaurant bills.

Leave the entertainment part of the budget at $0—and see where it takes you.

It requires less planning beforehand

With an entertainment budget and schedule set at zero, you can save your at-home hours before the trip and those frantic last-minute Google searches for places to stay/eat/see. Instead, let your vacation “plans” involve walking out your door in the morning and seeing where your stroll takes you.

The getting-there part is way easier

Embarking on a six-hour (or 16-hour) flight is exhausting enough already. Do you really need to add multiple pieces of luggage and a trip to baggage claim to your already (literally) burdened shoulders? No. Pack only the essentials—and then remove five things from your bag before you go. You’ll be surprised what you can do without.

It forces you to be resourceful

I stand by the statement, “You’ll be surprised what you can do without.” That said, for my tiny house trip, I wildly under-packed—on purpose, of course—and in my minimization discovered two things I hadn’t packed it turned out I sorely missed, especially in the dry Arizona summer: a hair tie and lip balm. But you’d better believe I scavenged through that house to find an old elastic tag that I used to tie my hair up for the whole trip. Oh, and I absolutely put kitchen olive oil on my lips every night. #NoRegrets

It forces you to focus on yourself (for better or worse)

Guess what. When you’re alone in a tiny house in the desert (or a cabin in the woods or a yurt on the mountain or whatever your preferred solo-minimalist vacation locale may be), you cannot just keep busy and la-la-la your way through life and ignore whatever it is you really need/need to work on/need to give up. Your shit will rise up to the surface, and you will have to confront it. But hey, the only way out is through, baby.

I do want to note here that I don’t equate a minimalist vacation to “roughing it.” Any sort of camping/backpacking/what-have-you trip that involves trekking through the woods, setting up a tent, conjuring up a fire and all your meals and hauling ass to some dark bug-infested corner of the forest in order to “go to the bathroom” is all very admirable—but it’s not quite what I mean by minimalist. Because that shit involves work. Camping/backpacking, strangely like taking a fancy multi-hotel tour of Europe, does involve a lot of planning and preparing (isn’t that literally the Boy Scout motto?) and pretty much constant effort to keep that whole staying-alive-in-the-wilderness thing afloat.

For me, in this moment, I wanted a trip that still landed solidly in the vacation category of travel: somewhere warm and habitable with pre-appointed (indoor) lodgings and an actual toilet. You know, the basics that roughing it doesn’t quite provide. And I lucked out in that my tiny house was pre-stocked with some basic food as well: milk, coffee, eggs, butter. All of this is to say that this precise midpoint between roughing it and your typical vacation got me exactly where I wanted to get: the middle of the desert with absolutely nothing to do.

Image: Courtesy of Jennifer Verrier.

So, how do you take a minimalist vacation?

Book early

This is key both for planning-stress levels as well as pricing.

Pack light (duh)

See above re: items of clothing, toothbrush, sunscreen. I promise you can do it.

Don’t pack shoes—I mean it

This is my No. 1 packing tip for all forms of travel, but especially if you’re aiming for minimalism. You’re not going to a wedding here, nor are you climbing Everest. Whatever isolated locale you choose, plan to wear—not pack—one pair of sturdy, oh-so-comfortable footwear that will actually last you the whole week or however long you’re gone. If you’re heading to the hills, hiking boots. If you’re beaching it, Birkenstocks. As long as they’re comfy, who cares what they look like? Nobody will be looking at your feet anyway.

Get outside your comfort zone with food

Yes, sure, you have favorite meals and favorite recipes and favorite restaurants. But what’s something super-simple you can cook just for yourself literally every day for a week? Make yourself one big epic pot of soup and see how long it lasts or dive into the wondrous world of kitchari. It won’t be fancy, but you will be full. And just see how much brain space you end up with when you’re not thinking about meal planning every single day.

Move your body in new ways

This whole thing goes out the window if you sit in your tiny house like a rock for a week. You will not feel good if your minimalist vacation involves being horizontal the entire time. But no, you will not have access to SoulCycle or a hotel gym. So get creative. Take a walk, a hike, a run, a jump-around-the-lake-five-times. Try your hand at a solo at-home yoga practice even if you’ve only ever taken two classes before. Get in your body and see what feels good. Bonus points if you really see what feels good. You are on a solo vacation, after all.

Expect to go without

So, you’ve never gone a week without makeup? Or shampoo? What about deodorant? I see you cringing. But remember, this is your minimalist vacation. You are likely all alone—or as is so often my case, “alone” with a child in tow—and nobody cares about how your hair looks. Of course, this is not to say you should go a week without key prescription medication or brushing your teeth. But that hairdryer/concealer/five-step facial-moisturizing system? Leave it behind. And while you’re at it, see if you can leave your social media accounts behind too. I dare you.

Do pack one (tech-free) thing to “do”

Whether it’s that poetry book you’re reading (or writing!), a journal, a sketchbook or even your knitting, there will be times your mind needs a break from all that quiet time with itself. Give it one that will also fuel it.

For me, in my borrowed tiny house, the sheer lack of stuff to do—no tent-setting, fire-building, bear-repelling, or shit hole-scouting, but also no sightseeing, navigating, appointment-setting or museum-hopping—left me no choice but to face what I had come to face: myself. I wrote. I meditated. I walked. I cooked some eggs. I took the longest shower possible because, as opposed to my showers at home that are hastily sandwiched between dishes, laundry, lunch-packing, school drop-off and the workday (it’s a wonder working single moms shower at all, honestly), I had no schedule to rush off to, nothing to be inevitably late to and no reason to feel guilty or ashamed for happily standing under hot water for half an hour. Other than, you know, water waste and the environment. Damn it.

On my minimalist vacation, I had zero plans. I had to—I got to—face many small, strange situations and feelings that are entirely alien in my regular life: silence, solitude, boredom, ease, freedom, peace.

And guess what (this is the sixth and possibly most important reason to take a minimalist vacation)…

The effects extend way beyond the trip itself

All that solo soul-searching? You will definitely carry the aftereffects home with you. There’s nothing quite like a trip that’s based on packing/planning/paying/doing/using less to inspire you to take stock in your life and think about what you actually need going forward—you know, out of the tiny house and back into real life.

One thing’s for certain: You’ll never again forget to appreciate the value of a hair tie.

Originally posted on SheKnows.

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megrimlocke · 6 years ago

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The Festival in the Forest 2018

So I’ve completed my feedback survey, and I thought it the best way to sum up my experience attending this event as a player.

“I appreciate that you drew a note of frustration from expecting to be countered, and I deeply appreciate that you did not notice that all my islands were already tapped.”

Q: what did you love or hate about the festival?

This was a treat for me getting to see the game from the player side of the screen. Exposure to other DM styles is healthy and any DM should spend time playing, to observe where others hit and miss in their styles and methods.

I think that the DM team concept was a strong offering this year, while still somewhat disjointed this did a good job of unifying the experience.

That being said, you Need to sack the NPCs. Unprofessional, unattentive, unavailable, and clueless to put it mildly and succinctly. I see no use in this collection of bumbling hangers on that failed to deliver any of my rumors when I DM'd this event and were absolutely useless and maddening to interact with as a player. The wizard was on nap break more often than he was available to consult with and when I finally did get him he helplessly leafed through a sheaf of papers and explained that he had no helpful information on any subject I wanted to cover. It became very clear that I was quizzing the student who had not done the reading. My friend offered a similar remark regarding consulting with the ranger NPC about a magical beast they encountered. This is a logical character to talk to about that, but he was completely unprepared. I did a roleplay with the hand of the king type character and secured some extra coin for our party, as our group of mostly introductory players went three sessions with no treasure to speak of, only to find that the man who spoke with the voice of the king was in fact impotent to pay out sums in the name of the crown. If they aren't even going to be allowed to solve player grievances I don't see what point this cast serves. I can bring you a dozen nerds who will happily put on fake ears and makeup and who will deliver a better performance gratis. I dunno if bringing back Pasha is just not an option or whatever but this NPC crowd lacks the rules knowledge, has not studied the story or game, and is unprepared to deliver more to the experience than passing out candy.

I perceived from all the arcane sacrifices going on that the DM teams have worked to try and claw back the treasures and riches given out in past years. This plan was a disaster for first time players who walked away from the weekend nearly empty handed, and deeply frustrating for several of the returning players I played with. This wasn't just a gold penalty to go regrow a limb or bring someone back to life, there was a lot of hard-won treasure that some of those guys physically winced to part with. The difficulty should have been managed and more ways for people to voluntarily part with wealth should have been used instead of a story-mandated item tax. Say what you will about the deadliness of my encounters, I've never stolen an item from a player by way of plot or taken any limb that wasn't earned in strictly legal adherence to the combat rules, and frankly killing some of these PCs would have been kinder than nerfing them in this way.

Q: 3. How organized was the event? (Please provide examples of how you would like to see this improved)

The DM teams are on point, the management of facilities is solid, but while the Live NPCs remain integral to the story their continued underperformance will always hurt my assessment. The DMs prepared for months to come to this event and put on a game, they deserve an NPC corps that knows the game, knows the rules, is knowledgeable about the story, and is behaving in a professional manner consistent with the expectations of a player attending a paid event.

Q How would you rate the DMs on your team?

Plane of Water - Clearly presented story, goals, and player expectations. You knew what you were getting yourself into and you knew roughly what you'd be on about. Your use of handcrafted terrain is clearly a joy and you should keep at it, your encounters are also planned in tactically interesting ways and you made use of survival mechanics which are a personal delight of my own. I would caution you only that you weigh whether you're trying to entertain and present an interesting experience for your players or if you are over-accommodating in the fear that they might encounter difficulty and be turned off to the game. Some players want that faceroll experience, personally when I play as a wizard or as a barbarian, I want to feel that the fights are genuinely dangerous and that I must make my choices with care. In that fight with the big water demon at the beginning of the weekend, I felt that he went down like a bitch. You can take off the kid gloves a little more, and I think that your players will get an adrenaline rush out of your style of play if you let loose a little and reduce someone to zero hp every once in a while. I definitely felt the difficulty while steering the ship around the ice and managing our resources, if you can allow yourself the permission to hurt PCs and bring that kind of intensity to your combat encounters you'll have lightning in a bottle.

Plane of Air - Dealing with an evil PC in the party is not always easy when you have an expectation of heroism and your plot hooks are opportunities to be heroic. I could see the "oh shit" moment when I decided that that mother and child in a burning building was not worth our time, and felt the relief when the warlock's familiar caught the slack. That was an entertaining moment and also a good way to handle the situation in order to get to your critical encounter. Your use of zombies delighted me, and I enjoyed using Magic Circle to simply shut them down as a combat threat. PCs should get the opportunity to revel in their powers, but you also brought in non-zombie combatants that presented a new variable and that was a great move. I don't know if they were planned or you were just sick of my shit, but it complicated a battle that would have otherwise been shooting fish in a barrel. Well played either way. I also appreciated the library and the way research was handled, doing those kinds of abstract tasks can be hard to adjudicate, especially when you are trying to create a sensation of limited time and the task is story-critical. I would offer as constructive feedback that story-critical information and events are formatted more actively. Your mother and child for example were passively waiting for us to save them, and if I had had my way they would have burnt to death while I got the party to go about my business. Instead, if they had come barreling out of an ally right into the party with a mob of zombies in pursuit, then, while a less interesting tactical experience, the party would have gotten the story critical NPC interaction regardless of where we decided to go. If it really needs to happen, make it happen instead of expecting the players to stumble upon it, because some of us evil aligned players won't make the time to go looking for someone to do good to.

Plane of Earth - Oh Chip. We disagree very widely regarding what makes good dnd. This I need to just get off my chest, and I've already lambasted the NPCs elsewhere, but the first 40 minutes of our session in which no one in the party had a clue what we were supposed to be doing, why we were here, and how to go about finding out what to do were some of the worst minutes I've spent in the game. I don't mean that to be harsh, I just need to clearly communicate to you that a 40 minute scavenger hunt at the beginning of the game was tiresome and should not have been necessary. I should have to figure out where the thing I'm looking for is at the table, I should not spend a third of the time finding out what I'm supposed to be looking for in the first place. Now I like investigation, I like intrigue- I enjoyed passing the dwarf off as a halfling, I got a kick out of breaking into the print shop, I had fun scrutinizing that fortune teller to check for fraud (for surely who knows fraud better than Evik-azul?) but interacting with the live NPCs was a waste of my time every single time I tried it, and while I appreciate the immersive experience you envisioned this cast of NPC actors is simply not up to snuff to fulfill your vision, and my enjoyment of your game suffered for it. To a degree, I agree with you that combat should be fast paced and that people should not be deliberating where to center a fireball for 5 minutes. We differ in that I expect them to know precisely which square when their turn comes or go to the bottom of initiative and i'll come back, where you have simply done away with the squares. I don't disagree with you on technical grounds at all, I played theater for 15 years before I ever laid hands on my first grid, but the complexity of play available with it is a delight in my opinion. I feel like you could have pulled fewer punches with that purple worm. By the end of the session I still had significant spell slots and the warriors still had a lot of hit points, the combat could have been more exciting had it taxed our resources more heavily, but I did appreciate the coal collection task that added a good layer of complexity to an otherwise so-so boss encounter. Apart from over reliance on these bumbling NPCs, the only feedback I have in terms of your story is that while I'm glad that the Shadow Lord is starting to appear in the game world, I found his cut scene at your table strange. Why didn't he simply kill us all? What's the point eliminating the forgemaster if you're not going to do something to track or tag the weapons that can kill you, or at least the fools that bear them? The sensation felt very much like a video game cutscene where I neither had any agency nor did I feel that any truly relevant new information was gleaned. Your portrayal of the be-grieved grandmother was a nice treat to take from it however, and you were the first DM of the weekend who actually paid out, which was a desperately needed thing for first years.

Plane of Fire - Ah now here was a dungeon after my own heart. Clear goal and expectation, an instant death environment hazard out of the gate, swarms of ravening ghouls, a banshee that put half the party down, and horrible demon skulls that shoot fireballs at you. I would have liked some chances to deal with the ghouls a little more, but your dungeon delivered the tactical experience I felt I was missing at the other tables. Now, I don't know if you are aware, but towards the end of the altar encounter, the warlock and I had both gone through all our spell slots countering those fireballs. You could have blown us all to hell and ended the session in fire and ruin. I appreciate that you drew a note of frustration from expecting to be countered, and I deeply appreciate that you did not notice that all my islands were already tapped. I enjoyed dropping a sailing ship on your hapless monsters, and look forward to future opportunities to match wits with you on the game board.

How well do you feel the DMs on your team were coordinated?

I'm only rating this so low because I got three differing answers regarding how to cure Blood Plague. Now, I want to be clear, I loved the blood plague, and I absolutely loved contracting it. My character was NE only because I wasn't allowed to submit one that was CE, and the blood plague gave me real motivation to solve the adventure for reasons relevant to my character.

That being said, when I went to water it was water elementals specifically infecting the people, then shadow on earth, and on air it was simply zombies. Now these are not necessarily mutually exclusive answers, but there was no unified response or place where I could confirm my suspicions beyond the first session. DMs seemed to be scrambling between themselves trying to decide what spells or methods other than Wish could be used to clear an infected individual, and there were no symptoms or further saving rolls I was required to endure.

The blood plague was a unifying element between tables, and everyone should have been closer to the same page on this, and fleshed out rules and ideas about what happens when a player is infected should have been worked out ahead of time. When we get Contagion or Bestow Curse or even possessed in RAW 5E, the ways that a PC can get un-possessed or freed from a curse are clearly stated. I'm not demanding that that should have been known off the bat, but I invested a significant amount of time in game (and out talking to those useless prosthetic-decked chumps) investigating the matter and should have been able to divine more than I was able to. Again, the live NPC situation is a mess, and I'm willing to accept that you guys expected them to be on top of some information you gave them.

---------------

On the whole I had a good time, and i’m thinking of coming back to DM next year.

#dungeons and dragons #ohio #events #camping

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araneaes-order · 7 years ago

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In the Bleak Mid-winter Ch. 5

LAST HERALD-MAGE FANFIC

Fix-it…ish. canon mm

Young Stefen, living on the streets, found out someone was looking for him and decided to lay low, avoiding the mysterious stranger in red, so he’s never taken to Haven by Bard Lynnell. It was an unfortunate decision, but in spite of it, he and Van do meet up, just later, and under less kind circumstances. Basically a redo on the ending. ~55k words Finished.

Word Count: ~5280

Rating: Mature for, sorry, lots of bad stuff, rape, sexual abuse, child abuse. Canon was pretty dark, especially what I was redoing here, so’s this.

On AO3.

Chapter Synopsis: Van and Stefen continue north together.

In this only the Bard and the Companion were in complete agreement.

“It’s suicide!” Stefen insisted.

:You may as well let him take you to Leareth in chains.:

She wasn’t far off, but he remained implacable.

Yfandes could see how set his mind was on this course; the Bard fought him longer but eventually gave in as well.

At a guess, and at only a slight probing with his Empathy, Vanyel would say the boy felt guilty for what he’d brought Van into.

By now Vanyel himself was inclined to be more practical: the Bard could get him to Leareth, perhaps get him close enough to see what power the dark mage really had amassed and enable him to send Yfandes with specifics to get backup from the other Heralds—which should have been his plan all along if he hadn’t let his personal grief cloud his usually much more calculated thinking.

Arrogant fool.

“I will take however much you have left of that powder, though.” He told the Bard, not phrasing it as a request.

The boy nodded and reached into a hidden pocket in his shirt, a cutpurse’s trick for hiding what they’d stolen, pulling out a fistful of small, gray, waxed-paper packets.

Vanyel spread them out on his palm, counting, before he looked up again. “That’s all of them?”

Stefen nodded, eyes darting to meet Van’s and then away. “That and the two I used, one for you, one for her.”

“And the darts?”

He made a face. “Left with my gear at the guard post.”

His words matched Vanyel’s stolen memories from the bandits who’d seen Master Dark’s man charge Stefen with the capture. Ten small packets; eight now. And the pre-poisoned darts had been carefully wrapped in cloth and kept in a wooden box for safety; he couldn’t hide those in any pocket.

“Thank you.”

The only question as far as Van was concerned was whether to let Stefen ride one of the little mountain ponies the brigands had used or to ride double on Yfandes. She made her objections to carrying the Bard very clear—and the Bard made his objections to riding double clear as well, when Vanyel decided that it was the wiser course anyway. She could go much faster than any pony, and it would be easier for Vanyel to cast a seeming on them if they were all one ‘mass’ instead of two.

“She’ll bite me!” the Bard said, glaring at ‘Fandes.

“She won—stop that!” Van said to her when she snapped at the Bard to prove his words.

:Behave! We need him.:

:We’d travel faster alone. And much more safely.:

:We’ve been over this: he can get us closer to Leareth than we can get alone. He knows where to find him and can keep us from stumbling into him, blind.:

She lapsed into sullen silence.

He finished strapping down what meager supplies he dared pack, knowing he’d already be pushing her to carry two.

:You’re a feather. And that Bard’s even smaller,: she grumped.

He stroked her neck and rested his head against her for a moment. :Be kind, dear heart. I swear, we need him. I don’t think we can do what we must without him.:

Her ears pricked. :You have a plan?: she asked hopefully. He knew she’d never cared for the first one—straight confrontation and probably Final Strike, if the mage was as powerful as Vanyel’s dreams had long foretold—and it hadn’t changed enough to trouble her with it yet. If anything, he knew she’d like what he thinking now even less.

:I’m considering options,: he answered diplomatically, but she knew him too well to take much encouragement from that.

Van mounted with the ease of long practice and held his hand down for Stefen. He’d been content to leave everything behind but his gittern: a true penitent or just a true Bard, Van couldn’t decide, but when the boy grasped his arm, he pulled him up behind him to ride pillion. ‘Fandes didn’t have the right saddle for it but they’d have to make do.

They were still in sight of the ruined hall when Yfandes jerked her head and stared off towards the west.

:Riders,: she warned him and broke in a run in the opposite direction, kicking up snow in their wake. The unexpected burst of speed had the Bard grabbing at Van’s waist. He patted the boy’s hand but kept his focus on the forest around them.

:Should we go back to investigate?: he wondered.

:No,: she answered, her mind-voice unusually dark. :You want to go see what Leareth is up to. That’s where we’ll go. I just hope you’re right that we can trust this Bard.:

Van and ‘Fandes both swept the surrounding woods and hills for signs of other people as they rode, but they found only the small, quiet minds of animals around them.

Yfandes corrected her course once she and Vanyel were certain that they’d bypassed the riders she’d sensed closer to the keep, though they crossed twice more with the path the riders had cut through the forests, marked clearly in churned snow and broken underbrush.

In so wide an expanse as this hard, northern country, it was sheer luck that Yfandes stumbled out into Rendan and Tan’s campsite—except that they were clearly backtracking the path the other riders had taken and obviously they’d been here first.

Both of the men were frozen, stripped to the skin, flesh gone blue and crystalline. They were hideously curled, preserved in their death throes as they’d been impaled on solid wooden stakes, driven like flagpoles into the ground around their dead campfire.

Rendan looked less anguished, perhaps already dead, or dead quickly after he’d been impaled, hanging limp on the pole that nevertheless kept even his lower-dangling leg a good foot off the ground. Tan had not been so lucky it seemed; both of his hands were frozen in rigor and ice around the part of the pole that protruded from his stomach, as though he’d fought to drag himself up or off.

“Gods!” Stefen breathed. “Uwald’s men got them.”

“You can tell who did this?”

“Uwald likes to take eyes, tongues, and…privates. Feeds them to his hounds. Says it keeps them hungry for hunting more,” he answered faintly, breaking up his words like he was fighting not to be sick.

Van had assumed that carrion birds had done that, but now that Stefen suggested otherwise it did seem unlikely that even the most determined scavenger could have braved the ever-worsening weather just to eat those parts alone, without even nibbling at anything else.

“If Uwald did this to Rendan, he’ll have gone over afterwards to check the keep…” the Bard continued after a moment, as ‘Fandes turned and picked up the pace to put the campsite behind them.

:Definitely our riders, then,: ‘Fandes thought, mind deliberately blank about the scene they’d just left.

“…and if Rendan told them about you before they took his tongue—”

“They’ll be coming after us,” Van said.

The snow never seemed to stop falling, an endless, suffocating blanket, darkening the sky and clinging to them with a determined tackiness that made Van think of spider’s webs, even as it dragged at Yfandes’ hooves.

The day wore onto night in a relentless blur of cold and snow and black, twisted branches reaching towards them while cracked black stones jutted from snowdrifts, blocking their way.

In a distressingly short time Vanyel began to feel the weariness weighing on him again. He’d done nothing but rest for nearly four days, but the speed at which he’d forced his body to heal had a price too, aside from the magic itself, and it was hard to stay awake in the saddle.

Even so, he’d thought he was handling it until he felt the Bard shaking his shoulder to rouse him from the doze he’d fallen into.

“We have to stop,” Stefen said.

“You can rest later,” he snapped. “We need to get as far as we can before we camp for the night.”

“I can rest later, but you and your lady are about to tumble over.”

The chiding in Stefen’s voice turned Van’s foggy thoughts to Yfandes, who had slowed to little more than a regular horse’s walking pace, her head down and ears folded back against the driving wind.

:’Fandes?:

:I’m fine!: she answered, as snappish as he’d been, and he smiled ruefully.

“How far are we from Crookback Pass?”

He could feel the heavy, borrowed cloaks around them shift as the Bard moved, trying to take stock of where they were. “We’re—oh!” he sounded surprised, as though until just now he hadn’t recognized the pace the Companion had kept to all day, which was likely, as monotonous as their surroundings were. But the distant mountains they’d faced that morning were now considerably less distant. “About another day, riding like this? Maybe less?”

:Sounds good enough to me, love.: he told her gently and though she didn’t respond immediately, she did come to a halt.

He’d done his best to strengthen and restore his own magical reserves with power tapped from local ley lines, but he was afraid to take too much, in case their enemy was watching those rivers and streams of power that ran through the land he’d already laid claim to. It was mostly because of Yfandes’ support that he was doing as well as he was, but that meant his recovery was taking a toll on her as well.

:Then it’s good enough for me.: She relaxed enough to allow her own weariness to color her mind-voice. He leaned forward to scratch between her ears.

:I’m sorry,: he told her, with a deep and true regret. His dearest friend and look what he was doing—

:They were my friends too, Van,: she thought at him firmly, sending him images of Shonsea, Rohan, and Kellen, as well as their Heralds, but this time she showed them as they had all been in better days, conspirators in joy, consolers in sorrow. :And Valdemar is my country. I love you, Chosen, but with you or with another, I would be just as determined to meet this threat.:

She sounded almost apologetic over the last, but he found it was a comfort to him. Of course, she was so much to him that he could forget that their bond had been forged for more than their own sakes; and it was what they valued as much as who and what they were that made that made that bond so strong.

:I’m making it about me again, aren’t I, love?: he asked with a sheepish chuckle.

She tossed her head in a weary, playful nod while she took them a bit further, to the shelter of an outcropping of tall rocks.

The Bard staggered and groaned when he dismounted, shaking himself like a wet dog and obviously fighting shaky legs, and Van smirked but didn’t comment.

There’s one point for the older set, he thought smugly.

:Or just the set who’s more used to being in a saddle for days on end without rest.:

He just laughed, not so tired he couldn’t call up a little bubble of warmth as he’d done every night on the way north, creating a small, temporary shelter from the cold inside a broken circle of standing stones, so he could focus on stripping Yfandes’ tack and gear and getting her warmed and rubbed down.

“Can you start a fire?” he asked the Bard, who’d taken off one glove and was waving his bare hand through the balmy air and looking as startled as he had when he’d realized how far they’d traveled in a day. He hadn’t seemed to notice yet that below his boots the snow was fast melting away, exposing dry ground and scrub. He jumped a little when he did but managed a strangled “Sure?” and he focused on the hunt for enough kindling to hide his discomfort with Van’s display of casual power.

:I’d get on you for showing off…:

:…but?: he inquired, not used to her restraint.

:But I don’t care, as long as we get warmed up,: she sighed.

Once they were warmed and the small fire was crackling Van relaxed his hold on that shield against the weather. The difference was instantaneous, but he didn’t want to drain himself more than he had to. He’d keep it warm enough for them not to freeze in their bedrolls and to keep Yfandes from stiffening up overnight but that didn’t require it to be comfortable.

He noticed Stefen’s sudden shiver, but the boy didn’t complain, just finished his share of the jerky and travel bread, and stared morosely at the fire between them.

He’d been there for many of the atrocities the bandits had remembered, if only the ones where victims were dragged back to the keep, and obviously he had knowledge of the dealings of other brigand bands in the area as well. Was he haunted by the memory of the campsite they’d stumbled on that morning, or was it old hat to a jaded young psyche?

Vanyel still wondered at that, even while he was drifting off again. He’d crawled into his bedroll before he’d let the warming spell slip, and curled up beside Yfandes’ big warm body as well.

Stefen finished his meal and took to his bedroll not long after, looking alone and small and young.

For the first time in a while, Van didn’t dream of ice and snow. He didn’t dream of his last stand, alone in a mountain pass, choosing to die so he could take his enemy with him.

He dreamed of late spring sun, and a field of wildflowers outside Haven. He was young again, riding Yfandes while she galloped with joyous ease through a bright, warm day, Tylendel laughing behind him, riding pillion. Lendel’s arms were around him, his chest at Vanyel’s back, surrounding him with love and laughter and just that presence that he missed, that he would never stop missing.

Van cried, even though he wanted to hold on to the feeling of peace he’d felt at first, but Lendel soothed him with wordless nonsense and kissed his cheek. “Soon, Van. We’re so close!”

What was ‘soon’ to an immortal boy, living in a world of eternally bright and beautiful days? A warning? A promise? A consolation?

Van didn’t have the chance to obsess over it, or whether the dream was anything but wishful thinking: there was someone else, besides the Bard, in their camp.

It was subtle, but he knew the crunch of boots on snow, especially the creeping crunch of someone trying to be quiet. Perhaps it had even been what had woken him.

He opened his eyes and saw the Bard. He’d been up for a while, by the look of him, sitting by the fire, cross-legged, with his cloak and his bedroll both wrapped around his shoulders. The firelight made him glow, his auburn hair an echo of the flame, framed before the dark trunk of the tree that, many decades ago, had interrupted the circle of standing stones, and who’s thick, overhanging branches had given it a roof.

Had Stefen betrayed them after all?

As though in answer the boy met Van’s eyes and shook his head. Play dead, he mouthed.

:Vanyel?: Yfandes’ mind-voice was slurred but he got the sense of her rising concern as she began to shift behind him.

:Be still,: he told her.

:You’re trusting him?: she demanded, quickly apprised of the situation. Though she heeded him and seemed to settle down again, even as he had, it was only because he was lying half against her that he was able to feel the tension still in her body.

:Let’s see how it plays out,: he said, trusting to instinct that had served him better in conflict than his spotty Gift of ForSight ever had.

The crunching stopped. Just because Van was willing to wait and see what the boy was planning to do didn’t mean he didn’t mentally sweep the area to find out what was against them. Four minds, one Gifted, though modestly by the standards of most Heralds except—yes, that one was also a mage.

:Spread out for an ambush.: Her distrust of the Bard radiated along their link. She wanted to be gone. He could roll a bit and mount as she stood and they could be off before the youth got to his feet. Long before the four humans closing in on their camp could reach them, if he’d give in to her urging.

:And leave Stefen to them?:

:What of it, if he’s one of theirs?:

Still, he’d been counting more on the fact that between himself and Yfandes they were more than a match for four toughs from the northern woods, even if one was a mage.

“Who goes?” Stefen called, sounding emphatically bored, in the way that only the young truly can.

After a moment there was a more obvious scraping of boots through the snow—and a chuckle, though only one person stepped from the shadows outside the standing stones into the light of the fire. The mage, Vanyel could tell, by the not entirely clean pulse of his power in the small campsite. A blood mage.

“Stefen! My boy! Passing through our land again. And you weren’t going to stop by the hold and make your hullos to old Gerlac?” the voice was low, husky, not with a cold or even with artifice, but as though the speaker had had some damage done to it at one time.

“No, Viga, I wasn’t. I barely made it away from Saski the last time I visited, I have no intention of giving her a chance to paw at me again.” Now he just sounded annoyed.

The mage laughed again, louder, with a nasty edge. “Oh, you just don’t know how to take the affections of a real, warrior woman. She was just trying to express her admiration of your fine…gittern playing.”

“I’m not interested in ‘taking’ the affections of any woman, as well you know. And I’m on Master’s Dark’s business now. I certainly don’t have time for any of Saski’s foolishness. He’d do worse than skin us both if I kept him waiting because of her.”

“Master Dark’s business, you say? You don’t seem to be in too much of a hurry right now, playing campout with your pretty friend there.” He knew who Vanyel was, Van was certain.

The Bard snorted, calling him on it. “C’m’off it Vig, you know who that is and what my business is.”

“He looks very cozy for a captive,” the mage said, finally voicing his suspicions.

“Cozy enough to not cause trouble.”

“Master Dark’s powder should have him a senseless lump. It’s only the two of you here, and his horse—and that one we had orders to kill. You expect me to believe you’re strong enough to manhandle him and control his horse, all the way from Rendan’s hold to Master Dark? Where are Lord Rendan’s men? What are you up to?”

The mage knew of the powder?

:And his Master Dark’s plans for me? Was your little Bard not the only one he sent for us? Do this fool and his friends have some of that damned powder too?:

Stefen yawned. “The powder didn’t work quite as Master Dark said it would. Or the Herald’s stronger than he’d expected, either way. He broke out of it. Several times. Took four doses just to get him quiet enough for Tan and I to drag him back to the keep. Then that idiot Rendan didn’t believe me that he wasn’t as far gone as the Master’s envoy had said he’d be and wanted to rough him up a bit, just for the sport of having one of those boys in white at his mercy.”

Stefen paused.

“Shoulda listened. The fucker woke up and leveled the place.”

“But not you?”

“I’m not an idiot,” he sneered. “When I saw Rendan wasn’t gonna stop I ducked out to the stables, didn’t go back until the hole he punched in the roof stopped smoking. Found him in the middle of the mess, weak as a babe and dosed him—double—again.”

“And the horse?” the mage wasn’t buying it.

“Dumb thing got away from me when I got the Herald—what good am I supposed to be with a godsdamned blow gun? Worked out okay though, the ponies all broke clear through that rotted old paddock gate when the keep went boom, but she showed up, blood in her eye, not long after, and I dosed her too.”

“And how did you get them all the way up here by yourself?” No, he wasn’t buying it at all.

Van readied himself to go for his short sword, hidden under a fold of his bedroll. How much good it would do if the mage did have more of that powder, he didn’t know, but perhaps he could throw the man off with a physical attack, when he was prepared for a magical one, and take him out before he could use it. And just hope that his three cohorts, still lingering out of sight, hadn’t been armed with it as well.

“Music,” the Bard answered, sounding startling self-satisfied.

“Music?” the mage asked, as confused as Van felt.

A quick, waterfall trill of notes rang out from that beat up old gittern Stefen had kept at his side since they’d left the remains of Lord Rendan’s keep.

“Herald, stand!” he commanded, in a theatrically deeper voice, speaking over a lilting melody.

…Okay…

:There’s no way this will work,: ‘Fandes fretted as Van slowly rose, keeping his movements deliberately mechanical, opening his eyes but leaving them unfocused.

“Horse, stand!” With a deep, only slightly annoyed mental grunt, ‘Fandes clambered to her feet as well.

“You see?” Stefen asked in apparent glee.

“They obey you…as long as you’re playing?” the mage’s voice had gone faint.

“Of course! Here, look—Herald, raise your right arm.”

Lord and Lady, this was a farce!

But he obeyed.

“Horse, take one pace forward—Horse, lift your left foreleg—Horse, sidestep right.”

Fandes’ cursing was quite imaginative.

:Don’t think humans bend that way, dearest.:

:He will when I’m done with him.:

“See? But without the music? Nothing.” The gittern fell silent. “Herald, stand on one foot.”

This time Vanyel stayed as he was.

The mage approached him slowly. He tried to make it seem he was still relaxed and unaware of the world around him, but he desperately wished he’d left his sword strapped to him instead of hiding it in the bedroll.

“Wouldn’t, if I were you,” Stefen said, just as the mage’s fingers hovered inches from Van’s cheek. “Remember what I said about Rendan’s messing with him? He doesn’t seem to ever be under that deep.”

The extended hand clenched quickly into a fist and then fell back to the mage’s side. He turned on the Bard.

“This isn’t how the powder is supposed to work! How can this be?” he demanded.

Stefen shrugged. “What do I know? Am I a mage? All I know is—” he started picking out a melody again, something slow and low and dangerous. “I play my little gittern that Master Dark gave me, and that Herald over there does whatever I tell him to.”

It was a threat, a surprisingly clever, and hopefully effective one if the mage actually bought it: that Van’s magic was not suppressed, but subject to the Bard’s song, and that if Van himself were bothered he’d break free of the control of the powder entirely and the mage would face him in truth. Even the implication that the powder was too weak to contain him and it took multiple doses, while painfully untrue, seemed to undermine the mage’s earlier confidence. It was an insane, impossible bluff and the Bard…was pulling it off.

“They’re not very good company, but I won’t have to worry about that for much longer, as soon as I hand them off to the Master. I suppose, long as you made me get them up, we may as well continue on our way. You’ll give Gerlac and Saski my regards?” He never stopped playing, and Vanyel could feel the push behind the notes that said Stefen’s Gift was at play, lending the wordless song a deeply foreboding air.

The trees and bare stone around them suddenly seemed like they might hide more than just this mage’s friends. Worse things, by far. But perhaps the worst possible thing to face was standing right behind the mage, in this camp—

The young man was really very good.

“Uh—ahem, yes, yes—of course! It’s always nice when you pass through, Stefen, my lad. I do hope you come back soon. And stay longer then.” But not any longer now, was the unspoken addendum. “Must be off,” he said, disappearing back the way he’d come, into tall stone- and tree-shadow.

Vanyel stood, not relaxing, though Yfandes was comfortingly at his back, and the Bard sat before him, still playing—while he watched the disquieted minds of the mage and his companions flee.

Only when he felt them pass too far to have thoughts of an easy return did he let his shoulders slump and a sigh escape him. “By the gods, you actually did it!” he muttered, wonderingly.

Stefen finally stilled the disturbing song and grinned up at him, a blinding flash of teeth and joy. “I did, didn’t I?”

:Bard Breda always has said a talented enough Bard could talk themselves out of anything.:

But Stefen’s smile quickly fell and he cast a look over his shoulder at the direction the mage had gone. “We should go, though. In case Viga starts thinking it over and decides to come back to test my story more after all. If you’re so determined to see what Master Dark’s been doing, better with me than with Gerlac’s men. They’re not much better than Uwald and his—I did warn you everyone would be looking for you, fighting to be the one who gets to hand you over.”

Van nodded. “We need food for Yfandes, then we can go.”

All to the better that despite her complaints at the way he’d ordered her around, Yfandes too had been rather impressed with Stefen’s quick thinking and ability to sell his own unlikely lie. She’d softened to him, a little, and had come to trust him, just a bit.

The ride towards the Ice Wall Mountains and Crookback Pass, the only reasonable way through those mountains, was spent much as the day before had been: coursing through an unchanging landscape of white and gray and black, beset by the snow and wind and bitter cold of the storms that raged anew each day.

Leareth’s work, he was certain of it now, though he wished he’d realized it when he’d still been at his own border and could have safely interfered with the weather patterns; now he didn’t dare. All his plans hinged on Leareth not realizing that Van was so close and still free.

But where the day before had been marked by weariness, today was tinged by the high alert of a battle about to be joined. By Stefen’s word, they should reach the pass by tonight. Come morning, Van would know exactly what lay on the other side.

They would take a short rest somewhere outside the pass for Yfandes, but then they would ride through the night, so as not be caught in it. Although he didn’t dare tap any of them, Van was carefully marking the ley lines they passed, in case he had the need and opportunity to use them later. He could feel a node ahead of him, a young one, likely created by Leareth himself and probably it marked the pass, tied to whatever reserves lay in his stronghold beyond the mountains. It was already close enough that he could have tapped into it if he’d had a mind to, which told him how close he was getting to Leareth himself if he’d still had any doubts.

Today it was Stefen who was nodding off, but Vanyel let him. They wouldn’t rest long outside the pass and though he may be young, as Yfandes herself had pointed out, he wasn’t used to spending endless hours on horseback. A Companion’s gate was unnaturally smooth and with his arms around Van it wasn’t too hard to keep them there with a firm grip at one of his wrists. It was pleasant, though a part of him wished it were less so, to have him draped across his back, arms around him like a lover. Though that simple, guilty pleasure felt like more of a betrayal of Lendel than the brief relationships he’d had over the years since his death.

:You like the Bard, in spite of what he did,: ‘Fandes commented tiredly, but he knew it wasn’t the exertion that put that tone in her mind-voice. They were close and they both knew how this would likely end.

:He paid for it.: Though Van still tried not to linger on those memories of his time in Lord Rendan’s keep. :And he saved us this morning. If we’d tried to fight, even if we’d tried to run, that mage and his friends might have caught us with more of that powder. He’s a good ally:

:And?:

He chuckled at her. :And he’s pleasant company. Nice to look at, nice to listen to, and…interesting. I’m glad that we aren’t making this journey alone.: Though for more than one reason.

:…Are you ever going to tell me what you’re planning?:

He’d been guiltily braced to hear hurt in her mind-voice when she finally confronted him on what she had to have known he was keeping silent. Instead she just sounded resigned and that was somehow worse. As long as they’d known each other she’d been nothing but a source of love and support and if his dream was the ForeSight it seemed, and his fate already set, he didn’t want what were possibly their last hours together to be spent this way. :Tonight, love,: he promised. :I’m…not actually sure I’m ready to talk about it yet.:

Her response was wordless, a wash of pure emotion: the love that had saved him following after a broken lifebond, the love that had stood beside him through learning his powers, through war and through political machinations, the love that would make a lie of his ice dream, if only the part where he faced his end alone.

When they reached the mouth of the pass and after Van and ‘Fandes both swept it for magic traps or men waiting in ambush, they found a small protected space at the base of the Ice Wall Mountains themselves.

Vanyel cleared only enough snow for a fire and saw that Yfandes was fed and comfortable for a quick rest—then left her with Stefen. The Bard tried to protest, but Van waved him away. Vanyel wouldn’t let his guard down again and he certainly wasn’t going to sleep.

He sat himself on a flat stone, well away from ‘Fandes and Stefen. With a sigh, he pulled out all eight of the remaining packets of the powder and laid them out on his legs.

:So, Chosen? Will you tell me what this terrible plan is now?:

:I will,: he told her, :And I’m hoping you will help me prepare—:

Continued in Chapter 6

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#LHM #the last herald-mage #Vanyel Ashkevron #Stefen #Tylendel Frelennye #my writing #fanfic

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