#he would watch it with oralie

[calla-starkflowerstew11]

There are a lot of blonde elves in kotlc but ......

BUT if bronte was blonde then i just know it would cure me, i would shed tears of joy

his favorite movie would be legally blonde

but he's regina George

[isolde-illustrates]

Dex needs to be the first person who realizes who Sophie's Mom is

Legacy spoilers if you're a new reader

Since Dex was supposed to be her best friend, then it's only right that he be the one to pit two and two together. Plus, there was that one scene—maybe Unlocked, maybe Stellarlune—where Dex notices how Oralie tugs out her eyelash like Sophie does. It makes sense for him to pick up on this because his entire abiltiy is centered on being very observant. While technology and people are different, Dex has been stuck listening, watching, and waiting for so long that I think he is the most attentive of all the group, being able to formulate complex thoughts faster because he has been thinking analytically regularly.

Also, as her cousin, it would be a good family balance for him to be the one to find out first. Grady and Edaline are nice, but this would be a touchy subject for them and they would naturally go into defense mode as they worry about losing their daughter since she now jas someone biologically related to her. The triplers would not be prudent enough, and the situation would just feel awkward if it was Juline or Kesler.

The person would need to be her age so that the person would understand what she is feeling at the time, and it could not be any of Sophie's love interests because the whole point of originally finding her biological parents was to be matchable. Dex was long sense rejected, and I like to go with the idea that he was just really bad at interpreting his feelings, but that he has always felt like a brother sibling bond towards her, like Luke in Star Wars, although he and Leia kissed once or twice, really just so Leia could make Han jealous. Basically, Dex would not be looking at Oralie's biological mother status as something to solve a bad match.

While not the same understanding, he could mention how his parents are a bad match, and that while he will not be that himself, Dex can understand some of what Sophie's feeling and assure her that if she does want to have her own family without proving her parents' biology, that the family members will love her if they are true family. He could talk about how, even though Dex grew up with people insulting him at school for his parents' marriage, he loves them, assuring Sophie that whatever family she has despite the bad match will love her, too.

Bonus points if Marella and Stina are there, too, backing Dex up with what he said about the bad matches. Stina can mention how people will make their own assumptions regardless of whether someone is labeled a bad match, like with her parents who would normally be considered one but escaped it. She could use that to show Sophie that people will act whatever way regardless of titles, telling her that it's what Sophie wants that matters and to ignore those people. Then, Marella can talk to Sophie, mentioning how she knew that she would be considered a bad match the moment she manifested with pyrokinesis. Still, the Council was starting to change their views towards people with her ability, and maybe one day, they will change how they feel towards bad matches, too.

Give them a chance to all hug each other, being in unique positions that only those four can understand. Then, let Sophie see Oralie later and get the courage to tell her, "I don't hate you."

[frizzle-mcshizzle]

!!!!!!! OKAY WOW I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS

about Amias and Regaila; did amais actively dislike josie or was he mostly indifferent to her? and how would that affect the way he parented her compared to regaila?

(i'm enraptured with this story now but I'll try not to spam you with asks lol)

(als BABY JOSIE!!!! SHE WAS SO CUTE OMG SHE'S SO TINY AND BABY. i have a few questions about her design but I'm trying not to flood your inbox haha. ALSO I'M IN LOVE WITH HER OUTFIT)

FLOOD MY INOBX, PLEASE, IM BEGGING YOU, IT IS LITERALLY WHAT I WANT i miss getting tons of asks

at first he was indifferent, just like ok this is my kid now I guess? it doesn't matter of being around her reminds him what he lost or that hes not ready for another kid. she makes my wife happy so thats all that matters.

he cared about her but not as much as you should about your own child, burshed her off a lot didn't spend a lot of time with her, he thought of her as Regaila's daughter not his

when she had an allergic reaction when she was three he was genuinely terrified, he may not have loved her as much as he should but he didn't want to lose another child, she only because Forkle did end up helping in a disguise and making sure she didn't die, but both he and Regaila refused to ever give her another exiler so they wouldn't risk losing her again.

But as she got older she started to act oddly, would stare at Callista and Evander's wanderlings and ask people if they could hear them singing, which confused everyone because only Gnomes could hear the songs, she would write notes in a "secret code" that Amais recognized from his father's papers from the council but couldn't remember what they where for. the way animals seemed to just a little to friendly to her. she knew the names of every star because of all that she was mostly unpopular with the kids outside her family because they thought she was strange, so she mostly hung out with her cousins, and Amais just kinda brushed it off when she was picked on telling her shes gotta be tough.

when she manifests as a telepath at nine rumors start going around about how she’s some kind of weapon that was made by the council especially after people realize telepaths can't get her mind. (when originally the only rumor about her origin was that she was Oralie and Kenrics illegitimate child) some people around them even mention project moonlark. Ideila Cyrus and Regaila acknowledge to her that she’s possibly something like that, but tell Josie if that’s true whatever she was made for they won’t let them hurt or use her.

around that time Amias starts to actually say that Josie is not his kid when Josie and Regaila arnt around when people ask and just say she’s his wife’s kid, and when Josie overhears him saying that to some of his friends sue realizes he doesn’t love her for the first time. Josie goes to Regaila about it but shes is in denial for a bit before trying to convince him that Josie is still his child, because she loves them both, and Amias loves her, so he just had to learn to love Josie.

she pushes them to spend more time together and it really doesn't go anywhere, Amais just stops denying that Josie is his daughter because it upsets Regaila not because of it's effects on Josie.

When Josie is ten Regaila gets pregnant, she doesn’t tell Amais for a bit because she doesn’t know how he will react considering he still doesn’t accept Josie and its been ten years.

while Regaila is out with Athena asking her how to tell Amias asking her how to tell Amias shes pregnant, Amias goes in the tent exhausted and relaxes in his "room" leaving Josie watching T.v in the largest part of the tent. someone comes to the door for some arbitrary reason and Josie answers it and says her dad is in his room.

after Amias deals with the person at the door he turns to Josie and tells her to stop telling people he’s her dad because he’s not, Josie asks what he means. Amias tells her he just "only let Regaila adopt her because it made her happy to have a baby again and all he wanted was for her to be happy, he didn’t want another kid, he just wants his baby back, but that wasn’t going to happen, so he made a sacrifice for her sake. but he didn’t sign up for some thing who stares at trees and draws odd symbols in the dirt. and he definitely didn’t sign up for a kid who manifests four years early and who’s mind no telepath can get into."

Josie starts crying and saying she'll try to be normal promising nit to use her ability until the normal manifestation age. Amias starts scolding her saying it’s impossible for her and it escalates to the point that Josie manifests as a inflictor and inflicts on him. they both collapse and when Josie snaps out of it and runs over to him and starts shaking him trying to wake him up, when he comes to he shoves her away and tells her to stay away from him, she scoots closer crying and says “dad, i didn’t mean to hurt you!” and he backs away and says “i’m not your dad get away from me!!”

Josie starts crying harder and she starts to spark again and Amias realizes whats coming and runs to his and Regaila’s room and zipps the door shut, Josie follows him to the door and keeps apologizing through it but he keeps yelling at her to shut up and stay away from him sounding completely terrified of her.

Regaila comes home because of all the commotion and finds her 10 year daughter curled up at the door apologizing to her husband and promising she would be normal over and over.

Regaila scoops up her up and takes her to the couch and asks her what happened and Josie is to upset to explain properly so Regaila gets her to transmit the memory of what happened to her and Regaila is pissed, she takes Josie over to Idelia’s house and leaves her there over night while she and Amias talk (fight).

Amias spends the time trying to convince Reagila to leave Josie and they can move to a new village and start a new life there, because Josie is dangerous and not even their child.

Regaila spends the time trying to convince him that Josie isn’t dangerous, and she is their new life. But Amias doesn’t agree and ends up saying that Josie is monster who attacked him, Regaila says she wasn’t trying to but Amias is insistent that she did it on purpose. Regaila ends up kicking him out of her house and telling him to find somewhere new to live, not even mentioning her pregnancy because she didn’t trust him with how hes treating Josie.

they try to convince each other to change their mind for several months, Josie staying with her family during the late nights that her parents are talking thinking to herself how she definitely ruined her parents marriage

at the end of the few months Regaila picks up Josie from Idelia's tent and takes her home telling her that "Amias is gone and he won't be able to treat her like that anymore, apologizing for not noticing sooner and telling her that she loves her, and no matter how many abilities she manifests she won't stop loving her" trying to hide the fact that she’s upset about it but Josie notices she’s upset and reads her mind and finds out about the conversation and gets upset again almost enough to inflict and Regaila tells her "it wasn’t her fault, but thats why she shouldn't read people's minds, sometimes you're not being told information to protect you"

[bookwyrminspiration]

I fell down a rabbit hole (and visited this blog a few times while doing so) and now I am a firm believer of the "Gethen is Sophie's father" theory. Thank you. This has been most informative and I will proceed to turn this theory around in my head fifty-nine times this week.

Anyway, while journeying down this rabbit hole, I came across a piece of information I found quite interesting and wondered your thoughts on it. What do you make of Gethen figuring out that Sophie's an enhancer in Flashback, especially when considering that it's not an ability that was planned by the Black Swan?

!! You're welcome!! Glad my blog can be of some assistance! The Sophie's father dilemma is one that's been plaguing me for years

Also, I've never put together that detail before--though Gethen doesn't explicitly mention enhancing, or that he definitively knows what her 5th ability is at this point in the story.

For clarity, he says: "And in case you've manifested something we don't know about, let's get you more contained, shall we? Though I'm pretty sure the only ability you're hiding has to do with those gloves." (Flashback, p. 81).

The separation between "something they don't know about" and "the only ability she's hiding" (her enhancing) seems intended to imply the enhancing isn't part of the unknown. But the Neverseen are notorious for their tricks and games, for the shows they put on, and who's to say they're not full of shit here? That it's not bravado intended to unsettle her and make her feel like they know too much. Perhaps all they've done is notice she's wearing gloves now and they're trying to antagonize her about it and remind her she's being watched. They could be taking a stab in the dark, they haven't actually revealed anything except for their noticing the gloves. Which anyone could do.

However! Let's presume his goading is indicative of further knowledge, and that he's correctly guessed her ability: enhancing. That's quite a specific ability to guess, not a common or well-known one. Mr. Forkle had to explain it to the group, not just Sophie. We could assume this is because they're young, and Gethen as an adult had heard of it simply by being alive longer.

or, perhaps he'd heard of it because its an ability his family has personal experience with. Not Gethen himself, but perhaps his parents, grandparents, a sibling, etc. And perhaps he was correctly able to guess what Sophie's genetics had done because they share them. It's possible the enhancing comes from Oralie's side of the family, what with touch-based abilities, but it's equally as possible it came from her father. A father who would then be able to guess it could manifest in her, a touch-based ability that she'd want to control--which can't be controlled except with a barrier, such as, oh i don't know, gloves (they didn't know it was possible to mentally control at this point in time). Gloves that they noticed.

It's quite interesting to think about. Was it just a manner of them figuring it out for themselves based on observation, or does Gethen have a unique knowledge here...

[official-kenralie-fanbase]

Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrates! And if you don't, I hope you're having a great weekend :D Here's a very short Kenralie Christmas-themed drabble, I hope you enjoy it!

(And Chapter Nine of Perfect Match will likely be out tomorrow to everyone following along!)

The ballroom at Havenfield was crowded, full of elves milling about in their finest clothes. Several gnomes had brought in trees, decorating them with colorful garlands and ornamentation. “Christmas” was apparently a human holiday, but Grady and Edaline Ruewen had decided to introduce some of the customs to the elves. There were presents in wrapped boxes under the trees, decorated treats on every one of the tables, and a delicious drink called hot chocolate. 

Councillor Kenric and Councillor Oralie were milling around the ballroom together, taking everything in. Neither of them had ever heard of Christmas before, but it certainly made for a fun gathering. 

“I like this,” Kenric decided, taking a drink from his hot chocolate. 

“You always judge everything by your taste buds, don’t you?” Oralie said with a laugh, though she had to admit it was delicious. 

“I can’t think of a better judge,” Kenric admitted, giving her a grin. 

The two of them stopped at the end of the room, in the doorway toward the hall. Kenric sighed contentedly, taking the last sip of his hot chocolate. “The humans had a lot of great ideas when it comes to this Christmas thing,” he said. “Especially the food.” 

Oralie was about to agree when their conversation was interrupted by a giggle. The two of them turned around to see Jolie, the Ruewens' 10-year-old daughter, standing with her friend Brant. 

“You’re standing under the mistletoe,” she commented, pointing to the plant hanging above their head. 

“So we are,” Kenric replied, looking up. “And what does that mean?” 

“It means you’re s’posed to kiss,” Brant told them, barely able to hold his giggles. 

Kenric and Oralie both froze, staring at each other with widened eyes. 

“It’s a human tradition,” Jolie explained. “You have to kiss someone if you both are under the mistletoe.” 

She and Brant both watched them intently, holding their breaths in anticipation.

Kenric chuckled slightly. "Well, we can't disappoint the daughter of our hosts," he said, raising his eyebrows.

"I suppose not," Oralie replied, her heart beating faster than she would have liked to admit.

After looking around to make sure they weren't being watched by anyone but the two kids, Kenric leaned forward, pausing with a few inches of space between them. He was waiting for her to close the gap. After a brief second of hesitation, Oralie gently pressed her lips against his, light as a feather.

The kiss barely lasted a second, but it was enough to send delightful shivers all through her body.

They broke apart, both of them grinning and blushing. Brant and Jolie both applauded, their delightful smiles breaking Kenric and Oralie from the moment.

"For the record," Kenric said, waggling his finger at the kids. "We're just friends."

"But we have to follow the tradition," Oralie added. But she couldn't ignore how much she'd liked the feeling of his lips on hers.

"Well, I'm satisfied." Jolie grabbed Brant's hand, pulling him away, inevitably to find another pair of victims to catch under the mistletoe.

"It's a strange tradition," Kenric said with a laugh. "But we couldn't disappoint Jolie. Even if we are Councillors."

"Even if we are Councillors," Oralie repeated, trying to remind herself of the fact. She was an Empath. The sudden feelings running through her that she suspected she'd been smothering for a while shouldn't be confusing her as much as they were.

But she was sure of one thing.

She definitely was a fan of Christmas.

[you-have-been-frizzled]

I just saw the last ask you got sent and it reminded me of the Kenric prison au and I had a thought, so I have this headcanons where one time Oralie and Kenric went to the human realm as one of their dates cause they aren't watched their as much, and Oralie won Kenric a big brown stuffed bear, like the huge ones they have for prizes. What if after he wakes up they ask him if he needs/wants anything from his old castle cause most of it is still in shortage because the council/his family didn't have time to go through it, he asks for it, or as one of the questions he asks when he's making sure Oralie is real he asks her about what stuffed animal he treasured/ about the trip to the carnival

oh my gosh that is precious, i love the idea of him asking about the carnival! i mentioned his nephew Avon in the last ask, and how cute do think it would be if he ended up with it because Oralie gave it to him after Kenric’s planting. then when he comes to visit Kenric he brings the stuffed animal

@official-kenralie-fanbase

[bronte-deserves-better]

Imagine an au where instead of Forkle or Oralie dying at the peace summit Sophie died.

Also how do you think that the council would react to her death if she died in the next book?

Oh that would be so fucking tragic...she'd never know Oralie was her bio mom, her friends would be devastated, Oralie and Forkle would be devastated. It would also be kinda interesting to see how the Black Swan and the Neverseen reacted though. I can't imagine her friends or the Black Swan would give up on the fight against the Neverseen, but they'd have to adapt a lot.

I think I answered something similar at some point, but generally I think:

Oralie would be devastated

Bronte would be far more upset than he let on

The rest of the Council would be at least freaked out by the death of a teenager, though I'd imagine they'd also be concerned with what it says about their rule that a teenager died on their watch + what the elven people would think about that.

[axels-corner]

Chapter 6 of the coffee shop au

Summary: Kenric, Kesler, and Terik bake cookies while trying to sort things out

Notes: We're halfway through! I hope you enjoy the chapter

You can find chapter 5 here

Characters: Terik, Kenric, Kesler

Words: 1,782

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48995623/chapters/125896006

There was a sugary sweet smell in the air that made Kenric's mouth water, they had finally finished the chaotic adventure of getting the cookies into shape and prepping them for the oven. But after many failed attempts, and several runs to grab more chocolate and caramel chips, notable failures included the first time when they went to add the salt and one of the triplets had loosened the salt shaker at dinner that night, and well things got a little salty as Terik would put it. Though he would've much prepared the chaos over the discussion he knew they where about to have that he was dreading.

“So,” Kesler starts while hopping up on the counter, “Oralie huh, I thought she hated your guts? You know after the whole Blackswan thing”

“Me too.” Terik added leaning back against the counter eating some of the cookie dough from the bowl

“That makes three of us.” Kenric says, “Also Terik I would advise against eating raw cookie dough remember what happened last time.” Terik sighs

“So let me get this straight, you don't like it when I eat charred toast, but you don't want me to eat raw cookie dough either.” he dipped his finger in the leftover batch again “Also you sound like Bronte.” Kesler snorted at that

“Seriously? Charred toast?”

“It's got a nice crunch, don't judge it until you try it.” Kenric hides his smile by rubbing his forehead

“Fine, but when you get food poisoning I'm telling Emery and Bronte it's because you ate raw cookie dough.”

“I'm fine with that.” They all lapsed into a nice silence, Kenric wondered if he willed time to stop, if it would, but of course it doesn't work like that. As Terik put the bowl in the sink, Kesler crossed his legs on the counter.

“I suppose we should talk about Oralie now.” Kenric hung his head and sighed

“Yeah, probably.” Terik cut him off

“Wait, before we do I never got the whole story of the Black swan just bits and pieces. What happened? I mean you and Oralie where close.”

“Well we where in our senior year of Foxfire High school when Prentice approached me,

“So we still on for Saturday movie night?” Oralie asked smiling as she hugged him, he hugged her back

“We so are, what do you want to watch tonight?” She shrugged

“I'm not sure, we'll figure it out.”

“Or fall asleep surfing through what to watch.” They both laughed, this was nice, Kenric thought spending time around Oralie was easy, it was fun, it felt like she lit up whatever room she walked in. There was a light tap on his arm, he turned to see who it was, it was Prentice, with a very unpleased looking Tiergan standing next to him. “Hey Prentice and Tiergan, what's up?”

“We where wondering if we could talk to you really quick?” Kenric squeezed Oralie's hand

“I'll be right back.” She nodded

“I'll go find Terik, Kesler and the others, and save you a seat.” He nodded and jogged after the other two who where already walking off. They walked quietly until they entered a classroom, Which he thought was empty, but when the lights flickered on he saw that it wasn't. Juline, the Forkle twins, and two other kids where already in there. Before he could ask what was going on one of the Forkle twins, Errol he thinks, asked

“Do you know what the Black Swan is Kenric?” He shrugged with one shoulder shaking his head

“A good place to go if you want coffee?” One of the kids he didn't know laughed, while Loki shook his head.

“Partially, you know how there's a superhero theme so nobody knows who the employees are?” He nodded “Well what if I told you that's because it's true that they're superheros.” He raised an eyebrow

“Really?” He had a strong feeling this was a prank , but he'd play along for now “What do they do then? And why are you telling me this.” Loki sighed

“Because we need your help, well you or Terik but he has significantly more eyes on him with him being considered for the council and all, with the rumors of Councilor Augustin stepping down in a couple of years.”

“And what exactly do you need my help for?”

“It's hard to explain just watch.”

When the video started Kenric recognized it immediately. It was the explosion from so many years ago. They had ruled it as a misfire of the canon from the school play but something always rubbed Kenric the wrong way about that story, the pieces just didn't fit. He was willing to let it slide because nobody had been hurt and the only damage there was, was too the stage curtain, but know he knew why it had seemed a tad suspicious. At the end of the video there was security footage of two people tampering with the fake canon.

“Do we know who they are.” Kenric asked, and as the words left his mouth everyone's shoulder start to droop

“We where hopping you would.” Errol said, Kenric looked closer they where both wearing dark cloaks that made it so they blended into the background but on one of them there was a small piece of hair sticking out, a golden blond piece of hair. He pulled out his phone and frantically started searching through his text messages till he found the right conversation with the last text sent around three and a half years ago that told him and Terik to stop searching. He held it out to them,

“Could this be anything?” They all gathered around, Errol was the first one to speak up

“Well it looks like we've got ourselves a lead.”

Over the next few days he helped the Blackswan search, they found out they called themselves Neverseen but that was it. Eventually days turned into weeks and weeks turned into a month than months. With only dead end after dead end, it was like Ruy and Gethen had disappeared. He could also feel his relationship with Oralie straining like a rubber band but he was so close he just needed some more time.

Until their rubber band finally snapped, he and Oralie had a big argument in which he said some things that he would always regret. After she confronted him about sneaking away all the time, missing classes, skipping lunches, forgetting about their dates and eventually just not responding to her texts at all. He ended up avoiding telling her about his suspicions about Gethen, since Gethen was her brother and how do you tell someone you think their brother sabotaged people, plus would she even believe him?

“I never found out if she would've believed me since well you both saw how the conversation ended. I did text her once trying to explain about Gethen but she blocked me as soon as she saw his name.” He was no longer looking at Kesler, and Terik but rather the tiles. He wondered if he could count them enough if it would stop the tears from falling, but alas water has a mind of it's own and he watched them fall down onto the tile floor. They stood there for a long moment before he felt an arm wrap around his shoulders and pull him into a hug, Kesler joined seconds later. He isn't sure how long they stayed there, could've been minutes could've been hours, but eventually the tears dried, as a river does with no rain. Terik still had his arm around his shoulder,

“Are you feeling better?” Kenric could hear the sincerity in his voice, as much as he and Terik liked to poke fun at each other they still cared for each other, was the others rock, the shoulder to lean on. He was that for Terik when he had torn his Achilles in their junior year, and Terik was that for him now, as he had been when he and Oralie first broke up. Kesler broke the silence one again with a small gasp that had Terik and Kenric's heads snapping towards him. Almost as if reading their minds asking him what he said in a quite voice, like he was scared to speak the thought into existence

“What if Oralie's apart of the Neverseen?”

Kenric felt like all the air had been punched out of his lungs. Like when he was a kid and would drink a Capri Sun and then suck all the air out, except this time he was the Capri Sun. he felt the cold tile on his knees from where his jeans had holes in them, he really needed to fix that.

“Hey, you still need to breathe man oxygen is not optional.” He laughs and as he does a little air rushes back through his lungs, he takes a couple deep breaths nodding at Terik to say he's fine, thought Terik doesn't look to believe him, before looking at Kesler.

“Anyone could be wearing the hood after all, since there was no voice,, or features except for the blond hair.” Kesler nodded seeming to be deep in thought. Kenric looked out the window the moon now high in the sky, and he slowly got to his feet, Terik holding his arm as if he would fall any minute, he appreciated it though. He glance at his phone that said 12:47 “Me and Terik should probably be getting home.” Kesler waved, as they left the timer for the cookies went off and he turned back towards the oven.

As Terik and Kenric grab their bikes from outside the store both of them ask,

“Is he going to be okay?” Kenric shrugs, because he didn't have an answer this time, and it appears neither did Terik.

The ride home was mostly uneventful, until they passed the Black swan cafe and, the new coffee shop, and they can hear arguing from inside one of them though Kenric's unsure of which, but the interesting part was the dialogue. He could make out bits of pieces as they drove up, and after they passed, but as they where passing a door or a window must've been open because he heard

"This isn't going to work I've already almost blown my cover like three times today! He's getting suspicious! We need to abort"

"That'll look even worse just stick out okay, trust me in a couple months we'll be home free."

"Fine, but I'm getting acting classes and sending you the bill."

Then he heard a door slam and both coffee shops, both the old and new fell silent.

Coffee Shop au taglist: (if you want to be added or removed just let me know)

@winterfireice @official-kenralie-fanbase @antisocialdork

[malewifegradyruewen]

Secrets, Secrets

i had a burst of inspiration due to the questions what's up with Oralie and Bronte being bros and what was it like when Oralie was doing all the Black Swan stuff? so i wrote this. huge shoutout to @cadence-talle for beta reading!!

trigger warnings: someone gets kinda mad and yells, one character kinda lowkey has a panic attack but it's never explicitly stated, ask to tag

word count: 1548

tagging: @callas-starkflower-stew @alesbiancat @tiergan-andrin-alenefar @gay-otlc @brilliantblindinglights @fire-sapphics @zoyyanazyalensky @sofia-not-sophie

It had been a long and busy day, and Oralie was practically dead on her feet as she returned to her home. It was nothing short of a palace, fit for the finest royalty, and normally this fact embarrassed her, but tonight, her mind was swimming. The complexities of her job had never accounted for situations such as this before. Oralie knew full well what could happen to her should anyone find out. And yet, she didn’t mind. As much as she would hate to lose her position on the Council, she somehow felt that this was her calling. Yes, the Black Swan was shady, but it wasn’t due to shady activity, just that they preferred lurking in the shadows. That seemed respectable enough; sometimes, she too wished she could melt into the shadows and not have the eyes and scrutiny of every elf watching her every move.

She was so exhausted and preoccupied that she hadn’t even noticed the imposing figure sitting in her living room. He stuck out like a sore thumb, his grey robes a stark contrast to the sea of pink Oralie used in her decorum. She gasped as she realised who it was.

“Bronte! To what do I owe the pleasure?” she said, trying to act as calmly as possible. Chances were, if Councillor Bronte was in her living room unannounced after-hours, he probably knew, but she could still hope.

“Oh, I think you know why I’m here,” he said, his tone calm and calculated, his gaze averted. Oralie had always been intimidated by the Ancient, but the fear that had instilled itself in her brain from the moment she saw him had made him exponentially more intimidating.

Hoping she could feign ignorance, Oralie asked, “No, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me, so we might be finished as quickly as possible?”

Bronte looked up and stared at Oralie as though trying to see into her mind. “For the Council’s living lie detector, you are a terrible liar. You may have everyone else fooled, but not me. The feeble excuses as to where you are, who you’re meeting with. Please,” he nearly scoffed. “I’m not that easily fooled.”

“Bronte, I don’t...what are you trying to say?” Oralie could feel her heart thumping throughout her body. She tried to focus on anything but her increasing heart rate as Bronte stood up and took a step towards her.

“Councillor Oralie, you know damn well what I’m referring to. You think I don’t know?”

She could hear the anger in his tone and hoped he couldn’t hear the fear in hers. “Don’t speak in riddles. Just tell me.”

“STOP!” Bronte roared, his anger apparent on his face and his voice. “You know damn well what I mean! You’re not the ignorant, innocent flower everyone paints you to be! I know what you’re doing, so tell me now, or you risk a Tribunal and Exile!” His pale face had gone red as he screamed, and his nostrils flared as he tried not to start panting. Oralie had seen his wrath before, but it had never been directed at her, and she hoped it never was again. Even though they were both Councillors, she felt as though he held an indeterminable amount of authority over her, and so she stood, rooted to the floor, terrified of the power she knew he held.

Oralie spoke softly. “I’ve been working on a project outside of my regular duties.” She offered nothing more, instead staring Bronte in the eyes, as though she was in a position to challenge him.

He took another step forward, coming closer to Oralie. “Councillor Oralie, I will bring this to the attention of the rest of the Council and you will risk your position in the nobility if you don’t tell me.”

“Bronte, I-”

“You what?” he spat. “Are working with terrorist organisations behind everyone's backs? Because that’s what it looks like!”

“Yes, I am!” Oralie cried, shocking both of them with her confession. “I am, I’m working with a terrorist organisation! Except they’re not, they just want to do what’s best for our world, what they see the Council has neglected! They think that the Council is unjust, prejudiced and blinded to the needs of the common person! And frankly, I don’t disagree. While their methods may not always be orthodox, their vision—or at least what they’ve told me—is quite reasonable.”

She had become faintly aware of the tears welling in her eyes, and she tried not to blink. “When one of their members approached me, I was scared, but I went along with them. My curiosity got the best of me. They assured me, they had precautions and failsafes should everything go south. At first, I was going to decline their offer, but they explained their vision and I couldn’t say no.”

The tears were now falling freely down her cheeks. She could feel Bronte watching her as she closed her eyes to stop herself from breaking down more.

“They didn’t want much. Just DNA. And I gave it to them.” It took all of Oralie’s strength not to sink to her knees, but instead to stay standing, as Bronte’s equal. She could not show any more weakness. Even as she cried, she felt ashamed at every tear that escaped her eyes and how weak they made her feel.

“You’re right that I’m terrible at lying. I can hardly lie to myself. I think it’s no secret that I wanted children more than anything, but I was a fool. Kenric persuaded me that this was what was best for me, for both of us. And even though I knew I was kidding myself, I agreed. I don’t have many regrets, but that’s the biggest one I have.

“I leapt at the opportunity. And now, I’m going to have a child.” She paused, letting the gravity of her words settle before continuing. “Biologically, they’ll be mine, but I’m not going to know them. They’re going to grow up among humans, and hopefully they’ll come back someday, and I can meet them.”

Oralie looked back at Bronte. His face held a thousand emotions, and yet none at all. She took a small step forward, and reached out to ever so lightly touch his hand. The wave of undecipherable emotions she felt was nothing short of staggering as she stumbled back. Bronte reached out and grabbed her hand to keep her from falling, pulling her back to her feet.

As much as she wanted to keep standing, the weight of her confession, the day’s exhaustion, and the barrage of mixed emotions from Bronte was too much, and she stumbled over to the chair Bronte had been occupying when she’d come in.

She was vaguely aware of him sitting down in a chair opposite hers, but all she could focus on was her breathing. In, out. In, out. In. Out. Her head was spinning as she glanced up to see Bronte’s brow furrowed in what appeared to be confusion and concern, mixed together in a tangled web of emotion.

A silent minute passed before Bronte said softly, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

His tone was gentle like the flowers Oralie found herself being compared to. It was a rarer side of the stone-cold Ancient, but it was a welcome change from the roaring lion he’d been before.

“I’ve been a Councillor since before you were born, and I’ve been in relationships during my tenure.” His words, though soft, pierced the air like a knife. “Relationships that most would scorn me for now. We may seem like a lot of pretentious, rule-abiding pricks, but we’re not.”

Oralie let his words fill her mind. She rolled them around, unsure of what to say next. She took another deep breath before asking, “What would you have done if I’d told you?”

“Kept your secret. Been your safety net. I don’t seem like the most trustworthy of Councillors, but I don’t want to see you fall from this high pedestal you’ve been forced upon.” He gently reached over and placed a hand on her knee. “You’re not as isolated as you feel, you know.”

“Really?” she breathed. “Really and truly?”

“Yes, really and truly. Your secret is safe with me. I gain nothing by turning you in, and I have my fair share of secrets. Why should I play the hypocrite? And why not play the defender, the protector? But alas, many will never see beyond the cold demeanor. Not that I’m complaining; it saves me many unwanted interactions in public. People are too scared of me, and I like it that way.” He gently lifted her chin up so they could lock eyes. “Your secrets are safe with me. And should you ever require my assistance, you know where to find me.”

With those words, he got up and exited swiftly and quietly. Oralie had not anticipated that outcome, but she hadn’t anticipated the encounter either. It was wholly unexpected, but somehow quite relieving, like a weight lifted off her shoulders. Even though she was more exhausted than before, she couldn't help but feel more alive. She knew that the secret would eventually come out, and the lies unfold, but for now she knew it was safe with Bronte.

[cadence-talle]

October Fandom Roundup

a few days late, but time has no meaning anymore so i think we’re fine. this past month we have:

- decided to get tattoos (Gray, I’m looking at you)

- shouted about ATLA AUs (specifically Zuko!Fitz and Azula!Biana)

- created the masterpiece that is Fitz with long hair 

- gone crazy over the paragraph of Unlocked Shannon posted 

- gone even crazier over the actual sneak peak of it in the paperback version of Legacy

- cancelled Kenric for being a jerk to our queen Oralie 

- cried over Ruy & Alvar for like the 100th time

- taken part in Keeptober and made so much amazing art

- brainstormed social media aus

- given Wylie the love & respect he deserves (although he still deserves more tbh)

- drank glowstick juice because you’re all stupid

- watched & screamed about JATP

- decided we were all the lovechildren of different KOTLC ships

- published 365984538752 amazing fics after the writing strike was over

- confirmed that the Neverseen are, in fact, just a gay band 

- written 3 different fics based around the song “Heather”

- immediately thought of Fitz x Dex whenever anything vaguely related to the company FedEx came up 

- discovered that if any of the adults became evil we would all die

- yelled about the meanings behind the abilities the characters have

- I... don’t want to say it (br*nte j*sus)

- become momentarily blind in the face of Sandor’s official art

- gotten very confused over the logic of Councillors not being allowed to have families

- and somehow talked about Halloween less than in the previous two months. 

In other words...

I’m sorry this took forever, but also it’s like thirty items long so you all understand why 

[my-swan-song]

Screw it. 25, Emery × Bronte.

Oh, I’m actually converting people. I didn’t expect this.

Prompt: “Do not. Tempt. Me.”

***

"What the hell, Emery?" Bronte yelled from the couch.

"Ah, so you saw the groupchat?" Emery tried to hide his smile behind his hand. He leaned against the kitchen counter.

"Why would you send that?"

"I thought you looked cute," Emery shrugged. 

Bronte held up his phone with the picture that Emery had sent on the groupchat. "You thought a picture of me drooling while asleep would be cute?"

"Yeah.," Emery laughed a little. "You posted that video of me playing the guitar. It's payback."

"Except unlike that video I don't look good in the picture."

"You thought I looked good in the video?" Emery teased. 

"Shut up."

"You look like you want to punch me right now," Emery said.

"Do not. Tempt. Me."

"I won't. I won't." Emery scrolled through his camera roll and found a picture of Bronte with cat ears on. He sent it to a group chat with him, Bronte, Oralie, and Kenric. 

Bronte's phone buzzed. 

Emery watched as Bronte picked it up, and tried to hide his amusement.

Bronte looked at his phone for less than two seconds before he glared. "Emery I swear—.”

Note: I know this isn’t my best writing, but I wanted to give you something since I went on strike right before I got this request and I’m currently on hiatus. And I’m really sorry about the typos. I’m not in the headspace to edit anything right now.

Taglist:  @imaramennoodle @linhamon-roll @an-absolute-travesty @hyperlollypop @midnightbunnyy @bronte-deserves-better @alicat-the-empath @we-have-no-bananas-today @rainbowtay-11 @dragonwinnie let me know if you’d like to be added or removed

You can interrogate me or send me a request here

Or you can request one of these prompts

[councillororalie]

@cadence-talle here ya go!! it's 1536 words!! please don't rb this version!!

It had been a long and busy day, and Oralie was practically dead on her feet as she returned to her home. It was nothing short of a palace, fit for the finest royalty, and normally this fact embarrassed her, but tonight, her mind was swimming. The complexities of her job had never accounted for situations such as this before. Oralie knew full well what could happen to her should anyone find out. And yet, she didn’t mind. As much as she would hate to lose her position on the Council, she somehow felt that this was her calling. Yes, the Black Swan was shady, but it wasn’t due to shady activity, just that they preferred lurking in the shadows. That seemed respectable enough; sometimes, she too wished she could melt into the shadows and not have the eyes and scrutiny of every elf watching her every move.

She was so exhausted and preoccupied that she hadn’t even noticed the imposing figure sitting in her living room. He stuck out like a sore thumb, his grey robes a stark contrast to the sea of pink Oralie used in her decorum. She gasped as she realised who it was.

“Bronte! To what do I owe the pleasure?” she said, trying to act as calmly as possible. Chances were, if Councillor Bronte was in her living room unannounced after-hours, he probably knew, but she could still hope.

“Oh, I think you know why I’m here,” he said, his tone calm and calculated, his gaze averted. Oralie had always been intimidated by the Ancient, but the fear that had instilled itself in her brain from the moment she saw him had made him exponentially more intimidating.

Hoping she could feign ignorance, Oralie asked, “No, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me, so we might be finished as quickly as possible?”

Bronte looked up and stared at Oralie as though trying to see into her mind. “For the Council’s living lie detector, you are a terrible liar. You may have everyone else fooled, but not me. The feeble excuses as to where you are, who you’re meeting with. Please,” he nearly scoffed. “I’m not that easily fooled.”

“Bronte, I don’t...what are you trying to say?” Oralie could feel her heart thumping throughout her body. She tried to focus on anything but her increasing heart rate as Bronte stood up and took a step towards her.

“Councillor Oralie, you know damn well what I’m referring to. You think I don’t know?”

She could hear the anger in his tone and hoped he couldn’t hear the fear in hers. “Don’t speak in riddles. Just tell me.”

“STOP!” Bronte roared, his anger apparent on his face and his voice. “You know damn well what I mean! You’re not the ignorant, innocent flower everyone paints you to be! I know what you’re doing, so tell me now, or you risk a Tribunal and Exile!” His pale face had gone red as he screamed, and his nostrils flared as he tried not to start panting. Oralie had seen his wrath before, but it had never been directed at her, and she hoped it never was again. Even though they were both Councillors, she felt as though he held an indeterminable amount of authority over her, and so she stood, rooted to the floor, terrified of the power she knew he held.

Oralie spoke softly. “I’ve been working on a project outside of my regular duties.” She offered nothing more, instead staring Bronte in the eyes, as though she was in a position to challenge him.

He took another step forward, coming closer to Oralie. “Councillor Oralie, I will bring this to the attention of the rest of the Council and you will risk your position in the nobility if you don’t tell me.”

“Bronte, I-”

“You what?” he spat. “Are working with terrorist organisations behind everyone's backs? Because that’s what it looks like!”

“Yes, I am!” Oralie cried, shocking both of them with her confession. “I am, I’m working with a terrorist organisation! Except they’re not, they just want to do what’s best for our world, what they see the Council has neglected! They think that the Council is unjust, prejudiced and blinded to the needs of the common person! And frankly, I don’t disagree. While their methods may not always be orthodox, their vision—or at least what they’ve told me—is quite reasonable.”

She had become faintly aware of the tears welling in her eyes, and she tried not to blink. “When one of their members approached me, I couldn’t say no. They assured me, they had precautions and failsafes should everything go south. At first, I was going to decline their offer, but they explained their vision and I couldn’t say no.”

The tears were now falling freely down her cheeks. She could feel Bronte watching her as she closed her eyes to stop herself from breaking down more.

“They didn’t want much. Just DNA. And I gave it to them.” It took all of Oralie’s strength not to sink to her knees, but instead to stay standing, as Bronte’s equal. She could not show any more weakness. Even as she cried, she felt ashamed at every tear that escaped her eyes and how weak they made her feel.

“You’re right that I’m terrible at lying. I can hardly lie to myself. I think it’s no secret that I wanted children more than anything, but I was a fool. Kenric persuaded me that this was what was best for me, for both of us. And even though I knew I was kidding myself, I agreed. I don’t have many regrets, but that’s the biggest one I have.

“I leapt at the opportunity. And now, I’m going to have a child.” She paused, letting the gravity of her words settle before continuing. “Biologically, they’ll be mine, but I’m not going to know them. They’re going to grow up among humans, and hopefully they’ll come back someday, and I can meet them.”

Oralie looked back at Bronte. His face held a thousand emotions, and yet none at all. She took a small step forward, and reached out to ever so lightly touch his hand. The wave of undecipherable emotions she felt was nothing short of staggering as she stumbled back. Bronte reached out and grabbed her hand to keep her from falling, pulling her back to her feet.

As much as she wanted to keep standing, the weight of her confession, the day’s exhaustion, and the barrage of mixed emotions from Bronte was too much, and she stumbled over to the chair Bronte had been occupying when she’d come in.

She was vaguely aware of him sitting down in a chair opposite hers, but all she could focus on was her breathing. In, out. In, out. In. Out. Her head was spinning as she glanced up to see Bronte’s brow furrowed in what appeared to be confusion and concern, mixed together in a tangled web of emotion.

A silent minute passed before Bronte said softly, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

His tone was gentle like the flowers Oralie found herself being compared to. It was a rarer side of the stone-cold Ancient, but it was a welcome change from the roaring lion he’d been before.

“I’ve been a Councillor since before you were born, and I’ve been in relationships during my tenure.” His words, though soft, pierced the air like a knife. “Relationships that most would scorn me for now. We may seem like a lot of pretentious, rule-abiding pricks, but we’re not.”

Oralie let his words fill her mind. She rolled them around, u nsure of what to say next. She took another deep breath before asking, “What would you have done if I’d told you?”

“Kept your secret. Been your safety net. I don’t seem like the most trustworthy of Councillors, but I don’t want to see you fall from this high pedestal you’ve been forced upon.” He gently reached over and placed a hand on her knee. “You’re not as isolated as you feel, you know.”

“Really?” she breathed. “Really and truly?”

“Yes, really and truly. Your secret is safe with me. I gain nothing by turning you in, and I have my fair share of secrets. Why should I play the hypocrite? And why not play the defender, the protector? But alas, many will never see beyond the cold demeanor. Not that I’m complaining; it saves me many unwanted interactions in public. People are too scared of me, and I like it that way.” He gently lifted her chin up so they could lock eyes. “Your secrets are safe with me. And should you ever require my assistance, you know where to find me.”

With those words, he got up and exited swiftly and quietly. Oralie had not anticipated that outcome, but she hadn’t anticipated the encounter either. It was wholly unexpected, but somehow quite relieving, like a weight lifted off her shoulders. Even though she was more exhausted than before, she couldn't help but feel more alive. She knew that the secret would eventually come out, and the lies unfold, but for now she knew it was safe with Bronte.

[a-lonely-tatertot]

Artist!Keefe hc

When Keefe gets nervous he draws

Sometimes on himself, little flowers and fires on his fingers

but mostly he likes drawing on other people

Fitz and Biana could almost always tell how bad the day was buy how crowded his hands are

during Black Swan meetings, he’ll wordlessly grab Fitz or Biana’s (really whoever he feels comfortable with unless they’re really into it and he thinks he’ll be distracting) and grab a pen or pencil from his pocket and start doodling

When they thought that Sophie and Dex had died, Keefe was at Everglen almost everyday

He would lightleap over, walk up to Fitz’s room, and grab his arm

Keefe and Biana were the only people allowed in Fitz’s room at that time, sometimes they’d all sit on his bed, Biana leaning on Fitz, Keefe holding onto Fitz

And when Keefe’s pen would sometimes poke a little too hard Fitz would say anything he would flinch either, because if Keefe had to deal with Fitz throwing things across the room and yelling and anything and everything, he could take a little pain

Then while Alden was broken, Keefe would find himself in Biana’s room, the sparkle pen that Biana had given him for midterms one year, drawing on her while she cried because after so many years of it, the feeling of the pen on her arm slowly moving was comforting

While they hid in Mount Everest Keefe found himself resisting the urge to reach into his pockets and grab his pen, but he left it at home because he it wasn’t the time

And after when they found out that it was his mom he found himself running out of reachable room on his arms and ankles

Then they were at the Black Swan and his co-revenge with Dex he finds himself trying to calm his panic attack that shouldn’t be happening why now?? Dex asks what helps him and finds himself rubbing his back while he draws beautiful designs on his arm

Keefe knew he was coming apart but he didn’t find himself in front of Fitz’s door, he was in his own room surrounded by papers on the walls because he didn’t need to calm down he needed to figure it out

and when he decides to join the Neverseen and he feels even more alone because they took away his pen so he was left with tracing ideas on his arms

When Sophie tells him it’s time for him to come home he grabs his pen along with the caches because screw it Biana gave it to him and like hell he’s gonna leave it and he finds himself trying to keep Sophie alive with his nonexistent healing skills and he’s done all he can waiting for some to 

and she does she doesn’t say anything about the pen marks on her arm because they have bigger things to worry about and he’s ignoring them just as much as her

when Sophie tells him that he has to stay home Ro makes fun of him for drawing like a crazy person but when he wakes up from a nightmare and she has to calm him down she lets him draw on her only moderately complaining about how sparkly it is couldn’t he have any other pen? but only when she knows he’s okay because she cares guys

and when he visits Quentin for something that he was supposed to pick up, he finds no one home, and the package on the table when he hears muffled sobs coming from another room

after a bit of debating he tries to trace them through the house he finds Amy curled up on a couch sobbing into her knees he approaches her slowly and asks if she’s okay to which he gets a soft shake of her head and so he sits next to her and asks if she wants a hug to which she launches herself at him and he holds her for a bit because keefe would be an amazing older brother and loves kids and he asks if he can draw on her arm, because that helps him and he’s been told it’s soothing

so he lets her talk as he draws and she talks about her family and her life in the Forbidden Cities and she asks if she can draw on him and at first he’s surprised but he hands her his sparkly pen and lets her draw on his hand and he tells her about things in the Lost Cities and she asks about Sophie and their friends so he tells her

Eventually he remembers the package and she asks if he could come back again and they become friends and when she goes back, they find a way to keep in touch because amy’s like his little sister and amy wants to keep an eye on this reckless idiot that’s her older brother

In the library when they’re searching their way through books and Tam passes out what it’s boring and he’s never actually had a full nights sleep and what’s a better time than now? and he wakes up to his left arm having stars and trees drawn on along with this little icon that look suspiciously like his bangs and on the inside of his wrist is surprisingly nice handwriting “Sorry Bangs Boy, you passed out” 

Tam just sighs and washes it off after showing it to Linh who laughs and thinks it’s cute that that’s what Keefe does when he’s stressed because they’d be lying if they said they didn’t notice how tense Keefe had been

Three days later while combing the streets of Atlantis, he finds himself ranting to Linh who just nods and listens and when they sit down at a shop he finally feels comfortable to ask if he can draw on her hand and Linh gets very excited because he’s trusting her and he acts like it’s no big deal when she compliments the henna like drawing on her hand and asks if Biana gave him the sparkle pen

During the trials he goes to draw on Fitz’s arm, but as he reaches out Fitz yanks his arm away and blankly stares straight ahead and there’s a small part of Keefe that cracks a little because Fitz hadn’t done that before and Biana glances over at him and gives him a sympalizing look and he remembered that he was supposed to be comforting them

When Fitz and Sophie got stuck in the Healing Center Keefe felt his gut wrench everytime he looked at Fitz because the last time he had been awake he had made it clear that Keefe wasn’t allowed to touch him

the days he’s not with Sophie he’s with Biana, because she needs someone, but in turn he’s hanging around Dex again and often he’ll find himself in Dex’s room testing out some new gadget with Biana, ro makes fun of him often for it or they’re training with Linh and the best part is it’s often that they ask him to draw on them

When Biana feels anxious about her scars he makes them in to falling stars or flowers, at one point he makes them into a snake and she decides that that’s her favorite a very pink and sparkly menacing snake

When they’re all tired from school Dex finds himself with Keefe holding his arm connecting the freckles as the rest find new things that they look like

And Linh always wants a new fancy henna-like design on her hand

When Tam gets taken and Fitzphie becomes a thing, Keefe is with Linh drawing as she cries chanting that they have to get him back, “We will, we will”

He’s there for the others, like he always has been, to the point that their parents aren’t surprised anymore when he randomly light leaps and finds his own way up to their rooms

he talks to Amy too, making sure things are okay, and he smiles and jokes around with her when she asks about them, he doesn’t want her to worry

Dex and Biana tell him about Team Valiant the first chance they have

And when Sophie needs him he’s there, but with a smile and a joke and a plea for human cookies because she didn’t need art, she needed him

And when he comes up with the plan to go to the dwarven city Linh and Marella immediately agree because there was no way in hell they were keeping Linh away from her brother

When he goes into acoma everyone loses it

Sophie and Fitz switch off on days

Linh hasn’t washed off the last mark he gave her, she won’t not until he wakes up, Marella and Marcua go with her sometimes Tam will too “Never thought I’d miss you making fun of my hair buddy”

Biana gets more sparkle pens for him and draws her snake twisting around his arm “She’ll protect you”

Keefe only has a few freckles, and they’re mostly on his hands, so Dex makes sure to connect them “Come on Keefe, I can’t prank people without you”

After the first week when it really set in, Fitz cried next to him for hours while Biana held him, “You can draw on me everyday for the rest of our lives if you just wake up” he says pounding the nightstand

As Sophie watches the drawing appear she starts adding some of her own, some are candy from the Forbidden Cities, and she claimed the inside of his wrist with Alicorn wings like he drew the first time 

When Amy asked why Keefe wasn’t returning her calls Sophie realized that she didn’t know, and she didn’t even realized that they talked and when she tells her Amy goes absolutely feral Sophie comes to grab her and she barges right into the Councillor’s meeting room not giving a shit that she could be banned forever, and pounds her fist into the table and tells them that she will be visiting once a week after so long it got moved to once a month and she dares any of them to tell her otherwise

Bronte and Oralie are the first to agree and Emery is the last, and he tries to give this girl his hardest stare, and even Sophie cringes a little but Amy stares back jaw set, face hard, hands in fists on the table and finally he agrees

So she visits and sometimes if others are there they’ll fill her in on somethings, and occasionally they’ll tell her stories about Keefe about their history and she’ll sit their holding Keefe’s hand in a death grip and will listen

Elwin quickly learns what marks he can and cant wash off most of them stay some they like to redraw, he learns who will leave easier and who wont and he learns to be a bit harder but a bit softer with these stubborn kids the only one he won’t kick out forcefully is Amy the one and only time he tried she let a massive string of human cusswords and yelled that she wasn’t going to leave her brother’s side and Elwin knew not to mess with the young human who made the Council bend to her will Amy makes a bit of a reputation for herself they learn to fear her a bit

Ro is the only one that never left Keefe’s side because he was her charge but more importantly her friend 

Most days she sit in the corner silently, her gaze flickering throughout the room, checking all the exist and checking on Keefe and even after her father relieved her of her duty over Keefe and said she could come home she refused and said she wasn’t leaving til he wakes, Amy was the first one to approach her she plopped herself down next to her and stared at her dagger until she would let her hold it, when she comes over Amy demands that she teaches her how to fight and she does sometimes Elwin asks if they’ll go outside before they ruin his office please and thank you I can look after him for a few minutes and so they do and Ro teaches her everything and sometimes Sandor and the others while help train her a bit, no one knows against what, she says it’s to keep herself grounded and maybe a bit because she wants to storm up to the Neverseen and tear them apart bit by bit

But all it took to get this many people to care about him was one simple quirk of drawing on people’s arms i might make one of these about ro and amy’s friendship because it’s adorable and I think it would be great

[team-council]

Title: It’s never getting titled

TW: Character Death, Lightly Grotesque descriptions of wounds, Possible Scuicidle Implications (I didn’t really mean to imply it like that, but I realize it can be read that way and will tag to be safe)

Description: Takes place directly after the council manages to quell the everblaze from book three. Bronte takes some healing salve to Oralie for her shoulder and reflects on Kenric’s death.

Notes: I would scincerely like to thank anyone who bullied me. I haven’t finished a fic in literally ever, meant a lot. This monstrosity is also not proofread and I am sleep deprived so I’m sure it’s absolute garbage near the end but just ignore that. Might clean it up and put it on ao3 later who knows.

An angry grey sky wept dry shudders of ash over each of the miserable, bowed figures that stumbled across the rolling fields stretching beyond and between the crystalline castles scattering Eternalia’s fading outline. The sun was nothing but a sunken stain on the sky, feathery gold light turned a sick shade of pewter as rising smoke choked the warmth from what of it still lingered beyond the horizon. The neon glare of Everblaze could no longer be seen melting crystal and dragging harsh lines of terror down the face of the distant city, but the air still smelled like burning sugar and dizzying sweetness.

With every ragged breath Bronte drew the saccharine sting of the now extinguished fire coated his tongue anew and prompted another fit of coughing to wrack his body. Though the soot that caked his face in thick, dark splotches had long dried his eyes, the muted sting of fresh burns sweltering along his cheeks and arms coaxed tears to blur his staggering vision. He’d long abandoned attempting anything resembling a graceful stride forward, allowing his feet to stumble over each other with every messy attempt he made to not hit the earth. Ignoring the trembling in his knees. Praying mutely that they might give way beneath him. That he might fall and never get have to get up. A fantasy of melding into the cool grass enticed his mind from the fervent protesting of his aching muscles. He imagined idly how the paled blades would curl at the corners of his mouth, cradle his hands and still the weary tremors that weighted his chest. Dazed, he was unable to keep from fancying what it would be to shatter into the dirt. To become ethereal and unknown, sunken beneath a tangled weaving of root where there would be naught to do but unlearn the world. To divorce sorrow and grief. To let the burdens of the many long centuries he’d endured go in passive dismissal.

His thoughts were interrupted as his foot caught the edge of something tough, and when at last he fell it was only to be met with the glassy, calloused embrace of faceted crystal. A dim, concerned muttering of multiple shrill voices hovered above his head, but as the councillor drew to his knees he found in clarity only the gaunt, drawn man staring back at him through the fuzz of a soot-drowned Amaranth stairway. Reminding him. Mocking him. To disappear was not a mercy he deserved.

“Councillor,”

Bronte was forced to respond when the stairs beneath his legs fell away from him, a large pair of hands having drug him up by the shoulders. Well, respond might have been a gracious word for the half-conscious grunt he managed to the goblin bearing his weight in their palms, his eyes not bothering to search the face of the guard, to know whether or not they held his weakness in contempt or pity. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t fathom caring. All that mattered was that there was no attempt to stop him from dragging his reluctant body up the steps, that no hand batted his away from the knob of the door, that the scanner reading the intricacies of his palm managed to make sense of his identity despite how fresh burns and ash might’ve tried and scrub it away. There was no triumph in the silent, inward sliding of the towering doors, no pleasant rush as frigid, bitter air swept the welts tapering down from his forehead. He hardly found himself capable of much but standing at the brink of the darkness that spilled forward into the until living room at his feet.

Lavish furniture sat steeped in shadows deep enough to sink under, curtains drawn to block the pitiful laces of grey-yellow light that might have struggled through had they been parted. Bronte’s own silhouette was absorbed effortlessly into the black, his whole body soon after as he mindlessly stepped forward, doors clicking shut at his back with an echo of finality.

The world was void of sound until the shake of a fragile breath bit the quiet in faint retaliation. Bronte followed the quivering whimper around the barest, ebon outline of a table, managing to discern only a tenebrous jumble of shapes wrapped up in the stifle of self imposed twilight. Whatever discomfort he might have felt at the still sightlessness, it was welcomed compared to the snap that brought light back into the chamber, cutting through the veil of blissful ignorance that had pardoned any necessity to look upon what it had charitably concealed. However selfish it might have seemed, for the smallest instant Bronte thought of turning the lights off again,

“Sit up,”

It felt wrong to speak- especially ask anything of Oralie. Her ringlets- dull and stringy- pulled down in thick tangled over her face as she rigidly drug her back up the arm of the lovesteat she’d curled into, blankets falling limp onto the floor with a meek thud. Bronte simply knelt atop them, his fingers trailing the pockets of his clock for the smooth outline of a familiar metallic tin. Oralie made no sound of pain or acknowledgement as he pulled down the sleeve of her shirt, revealing a thickly wound bandage fastened over her shoulder. The white color had turned yellow, and as the kneeling figure peeled back each layer the room- what of it he could smell above the saturated, sugary smoke bathing his clothes- began to scent of balms and puss, a littering of welts and shrunken skin having festered beneath the dressings. The case in his hands came open with yet another sound Bronte found himself too far away to register, his fingers diving numbly into the salve inside,

“It’s my fault,”

Came a sound like the shifting of a fault line. Bronte traced his fingers over the rim of the burn,

“I couldn’t do anything but watch,”

Cracking like stained glass. Bronte smoothed his thumb across a patch of withered, pink flesh,

“H-he moved so quick,”

He had been avoiding her eyes, her face. And still he found himself caught in both. Her soft features hollowed. Her warm eyes gutted, occupied only by vacancy. Ghosts of the nots. Of the would never bes,

“And I- I jus-just-“

And her anguish came again with vengeance. Came with strength she did not have to spare for tears she did not have to shed. How dare she think she had wept enough. How dare she think she couldn’t hurt any longer. With a long, godless wail it came back to her in waves, thin fingers gripping his shoulders as she curled forward, her whole frame shaking with the labor of forcing from her throat a cry like cracking ice. What little tears she could manage soaked through his cloak,

“And I j-us did no-nothing! I di-didn’t do anything! I jus-just le-let him go! I le-let him d-“

She had been doomed to fail the sentence from the very start, her broken declarations falling to senseless sobs and howls of pain as she rocked her forehead into his shoulder, re-adjusting her grip at his arms every so often as if letting go might send her physically spiraling into whatever pit of grief pulled at her mind, down somewhere she couldn’t be followed,

“It’s not your fault,”

Again. It felt wrong to tell her anything with certainty, even the truth,

“It’s not your fault,”

It came stronger this time. Still a whisper in her ear, but less like a mist and more like a fog,

“It’s not your fault,”

That’s right. It wasn’t her fault. It was his,

“You couldn’t have known,”

But he had.

“There wasn’t a way you could’ve known,”

He’d known everything. That the healing was dangerous. That he should’ve gone with them.

“You did everything right...”

It was his fault that they hadn’t listened,

“I promise,”

That Kenric hadn’t listened,

“You were everything he needed you to be,”

Why should he have? He had been impatient. Stubborn. Cruel. /Weak/.

“You’ve been so strong,”

For the past three years his judgement had been ruled by fear. Fear of a little girl,

“And so brave,”

And hatred. Hatred of species who’s betrayal’d dawned the advent of millenniums lifetimes ago,

“This could never have been your fault,”

Kenric was dead,

“It will never be your fault,”

Because he hadn’t been stronger,

“No matter what you might think,”

Because he hadn’t been wiser,

“Kenric wouldn’t want you to think that,”

Because he hadn’t been kinder.

“Ever,”

Her wailing had only gotten softer, grip having loosened the slightest bit. He couldn’t tell if anything he’d said had reached her or not. Had he even been speaking aloud to begin with? Had he even been loud enough for it to matter? He had to hope so. Their ilk was not meant to die, and thus not meant to grieve death. To mourn in earnest was not theirs. It never was. He knew too well how easily it would be for her to break beneath the weight of it. He could already feel himself webbing with cracks,

“I-I....”

She couldn’t protest beyond a dry heave, her shoulders raised for what felt like ever in a deep wrenching motion as Bronte clasped the fresh bandages over her newly dressed wounds. In the end, she merely fell into him, grabbing his shirt. His arms. His cloak. Anything she could to prove to herself she was still there with him. Every new hold she had on him felt like another clutch of guilt bearing at his knotted stomach. The morphine drip of shell shock had begun to fade and chip away. Clawed to pieces by the daggers of sharp mourning that broke his haze with every whimper Oralie managed into his shoulder. He knew even in the pathetic state he was in he couldn’t outrun his guilt forever. But he’d been hoping that he might for a bit longer. Selfish as it was,

“Oralie...”

He whispered after a moment. And was met with quiet. Quiet and trembling breaths. She’d become heavy against him, her grip gone slack, eyes finally falling to tearless rest. Good. He hadn’t been sure what he was going to say anyways. The lights echoed out again with another dry snapping sound and Bronte stood from the thicket of blankets at his ankles, propping Oralie’s head on a pillow before draping her in covers again, still hoping- desperately and undeservedly- that she had believed him.

He paced the length between his and Oralie’s office with more grace this time, aware now of what the lull to fall and fade and become nothing but memory was in truth.

Not escape from sorrow or grief, but from consequence.

Consequence for the person he’d become. For that he’d done to others... There would be no reckoning with Councillor Kenric. He was dead. No apologies or tears- though he would certainly be giving both in abundance regardless- would change that.

But Oralie wasn’t dead.

The rest of the council wasn’t dead.

Sophie wasn’t dead.

He wasn’t dead.

And to that end there were still plenty of consequences to face.

[bookwyrminspiration]

“ how are you? and be real with me, now; i can tell when you’re not being honest with me. you’ve got a tell. “

“ hey now, never apologize for feeling emotions, okay? humans are meant to feel all this stuff, no matter how good or bad the feelings are. besides; shoulders are built to be cried on! “

With Sophie blaming herself for Kenric's death because if the black swan hadn't had created her then Oralie and Kenric would've stepped down together, and Oralie or Bronte telling her it wasn't her fault?

!!! A truly excellent prompt that I had a lot of fun exploring! Also a wonderful stepping stone into the councillors that I appreciate, so please enjoy!

we made our choices <- ao3 link

warnings: allusions to death, grief, crying, mention of eyelash tugging (no eyelashes pulled)

word count: 3.6k

Sophie paced across the pretty pink floral carpets, her feet wearing an eyesore of a path into the petals, biting her fingers to keep from pulling her lashes. She’d left a hair tie on her wrist, and now snapped it against her skin over and over again, giving herself something to do.

Oralie sat on the couch across the room, watching, waiting, but Sophie couldn’t sit, not now. Her mind buzzed with nervous energy, the need to do something, to prove that being the moonlark was worth it. What was the point of her if she didn’t fix anything?

“Sophie, are you going to explain--” her delicate voice rang out.

“Bronte’s not here yet. I’m waiting,” she interrupted, resisting the urge to bang her head against the walls and scream. What on earth was taking him so long? Couldn’t he take a break from running the world for a few moments when she asked?

Oralie sighed, settling herself in to wait as well, politely not commenting on how Sophie was very near to wearing a hole through her floors.

Round after round she paced, muscles growing tenser with each passing minute Bronte didn’t arrive. Was it so hard to get both her council contact points in the same room?

Finally, after a veritable eternity, a knock sounded against the door, freezing her in her tracks.

Fluid, Oralie rose from her position, the gauze of her baby pink lounging dress trailing after her as she crossed the room, passing through an open doorway to get to the front entrance of her home. She heard the door swing open, heard a second pair of shoes clacking against the floor, the ominous feeling of Bronte seeping into the air around him, and Sophie swore it darkened the whole building as their footsteps grew near.

“She hasn’t told me anything,” Oralie was saying as they reentered, Bronte’s shoes going quiet on the carpet, his mouth curling into a grimace at the overwhelming pink.

Sophie watched Oralie retake her seat on that couch, Bronte choosing a nearby padded chair, resigning himself to the color scheme. Should she sit, too? Her fingers pulled at the hair tie, needing an outlet. No, if she sat down, she’d have nowhere for her energy to go, and that would make it more difficult to get through this. And she had to get through this.

“Are you going to start this meeting or not? You’re the one who called it,” Bronte said after a moment, crossing his arms over his chest, a faint frown pulling at his lips, red marks visible where his circlet rested on his forehead.

She started. Where to start? “Right. Yes. You need to get rid of the match.”

Well. Maybe she shouldn’t have started there.

“What?” Oralie asked, head tilting to the side.

She held up both her hands, resuming her pacing. “Listen. It doesn’t work. It’s an awful system and all it does is hurt people--so many people. All these lives are--are ruined by this…” she trailed off looking for the words. “This stupid rule about who can be with who from millenia ago. It’s gotta be entirely out of date and there has to be a better way to do it--and you’re councillors, so you can change it. You can fix it.”

You can keep anyone else from being hurt by it, she didn’t say, eyes lingering on Oralie.

Bronte shook his head. “It’s not that simple. We’re two voices out of twelve. Is this because you’re unmatchable? I thought you were through with this and focusing on more prudent responsibilities.”

Sophie put her fingers to her temples. “This isn’t about me! I don’t--I don’t care that I’m unmatchable.” That…was mostly true. She didn’t want to think about it further. “But even if I don’t care, there are people that do and people who are getting screwed over by these matches. Everything your world has to do with dating and relationships is so…so…unfair,” she finished, unable to find a better word.

Oralie leaned forward, but her eyes were elsewhere, looking at a memory only she could see. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, Sophie. I know that our world--it’s your world too, remember--has been far from fair. That is why we’re making changes and adapting. But I think, even as right as you may be, that reworking the match is going to take a lot more time and work than you think. Even if Bronte and I could, just the two of us, completely change the system, what would come next? What system would we have? How would people react? Things are rarely as simple as we want them to be.”

Sophie screwed up her face, only now realizing she’d paused her pacing again. Warmth bloomed in her face as they pointed out all the flaws in her demands she’d been trying so hard to ignore as she’d rushed to Oralie’s castle in Eternalia and demanded a meeting.

“So, what? Just because it’s hard you think we shouldn’t try? That we should give up before we’ve even started and let more and more people get fucked over by your system?” This was about the people. Everyone. This was about making the Lost Cities better. It wasn’t because of anything else. It wasn’t because that morning she’d heard--

“Neither of us said that,” Bronte said, looking way too calm for how her insides boiled.

Oralie had a crease between her brows as she leaned forward, fingers pressing together like she itched to reach out and run them along Sophie’s palm, read her like an open book. “What brought this on? You’ve never spoken to us so openly about the match before. Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened.”

“You’re lying. How are you? And be real with me, now; I can tell when you’re not being honest with me. You’ve got a tell.”

Sophie crossed her arms, mirroring Bronte, heart racing. “I don’t have a tell. I’m fine. I already told you this isn’t about me--”

“Maybe not,” Bronte conceded. “But you’re clearly worked up. We can’t work with you if you’re too emotional to think clearly.”

“I am thinking clearly. It’s clear that your system is bullshit!” Why weren’t they listening? Out of all the people on the council, Bronte and Oralie had been the two who were most receptive to her, who were most willing to listen--even if they annoyed her to no ends most of the time. Even if she had to fight back a lot. Why were they being so difficult now?

Oralie pointed at the ground. “You’ve worn a hole through my carpet. That’s not what someone thinking clearly would do.”

Sophie stared where she pointed, gritting her teeth at the groove she’d made, tempted to tear through it even more if it would get her point across.

Their dating system was bad. Their dating system relied on the match. That meant the match was bad. You should get rid of bad things. They should get rid of the match.

No matter that it didn’t really fix what was bugging her, not that it would change the rules for the councillors, not that it would do anything for Kenric--

“Sophie?” Oralie asked as she pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, cursing herself for the way they burned. She wasn’t supposed to cry.

Physically, she heard Bronte sigh, but mentally she was holding tight to her sanity, as if pressing hard enough against her eyes would force all the emotions back inside and she wouldn’t have to deal with them. She’d never have to think about them again if they’d just listen to her.

“Sophie? What’s going on? Are you alright?” Oralie’s stupid, perfect, angelic voice was much closer now, and she flinched as her hand came to rest on her shoulder, offering a squeeze that Sophie started to pull away from.

Her voice refused to work, words sticking and catching in her throat, clogging her vocal cords.

“This isn’t about the match system, is it,” Bronte asked, though it sounded more like a statement.

Her lips started to tremble, so she bit it, clamping down hard to keep it from moving. This was just a minor setback. If she could take a few seconds, a few breaths, just recollect her thoughts, then she could continue. It would be fine. Everything would be okay and she could fix it. She could fix everything. Wasn’t that what she was supposed to do?

Instead, a sob broke through her lips.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, trying to turn away, but it was too late. Her breathing stuttered, lungs trying to get enough air through as her shoulders shook.

“Sophie.” Oralie grabbed her shoulder again, forcing her to stop as she tried to get away. “Please talk to us. We can’t help you if you’re…guilt?” she trailed off, fingers tightening where they brushed exposed skin, gentle against her shoulder.

Sophie refused to meet her eye.

“Guilt is a very dangerous emotion, Sophie. What on earth do you have to be guilty about?”

Tears raced down her cheeks as she rubbed at her face, lips trembling again as she pressed them together. “I’m--I’m not--”

“Whatever facade you had up is far from convincing at this point. Don’t try to lie to us again,” Bronte cut her off. He stood next to Oralie; when had he moved? She hadn’t noticed him getting closer.

She took a few deep breaths, trying to force her brain to calm itself down. “Your system…it’s so unfair. If it--if it was different…” she stopped with eyes wide, wiping at her face again, not caring about Oralie’s hand on her shoulder, reading her emotions.

“What? What would happen if it was different?”

“Kenric.”

Oralie’s face went white, her own lips pressing together as her free hand curled around herself.

“If there weren’t all these dumb rules trying to control people’s lives, then Kenric wouldn’t’ve--could’ve--” she exhaled a sharp breath, cursing everything in the world as she tried to dance around her point, tried to keep it close to her chest so she didn’t have to talk about it.

Oralie swallowed. “Kenric…we both made our choices, Sophie. And even if I wish things didn’t happen the way they did…we made our choices.”

“You made them because of me!” she exploded, splaying her arms wide, chest heaving, tears falling freely.

Bronte looked between them, confused.

“Wait, no--” she pressed her hands back over her mouth as if she could take the words back, backing away, Oralie’s hand falling from her shoulder, lingering in the air still reaching.

Oralie had closed her eyes, brows pinching together.

“I believe there is something going on here you have failed to make me aware of,” Bronte said, looking between the two of them with his arms crossed.

She shook her head. She may not have forgiven Oralie, but if she was removed from the council, if one of her biggest supporters was taken away and the world found out, if they had to go through another appointment it would create disruption, upheaval. The Neverseen could use that, and she couldn’t give them that opportunity. She’d never forgive herself if she did.

Trying to wave it away she rushed, “No, forget it, you’re right the system is really hard to fix and I’m being impatient and--”

“You don’t need to cover for me, Sophie.” Oralie offered a small smile. Tears had welled in her own eyes, and she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ears.

Bronte’s eyebrows had raised, but he stayed silent, mouth curving into a frown as he waited.

“It’s not your fault that I stayed, or that Kenric stayed. Don’t put that on yourself. Whether you existed or not…my answer would’ve been the same. I wanted to help our world. I still do. And Kenric wanted the same. That’s why we chose to keep serving, not because of you. Kenric didn’t even know about you until we met you on your first day here.”

Bronte interrupted. “We all learned about her then, we all received the same report from Alden. Are you implying that you knew about her before then?”

“If you hadn’t gotten involved with me, then you and Kenric could’ve stepped down. Free of the responsibility. He would’ve had the life he wanted, safe. He wouldn’t have been there when Fintan…” The words were too hard to say, barely more than a whisper, so she let her eyes water as she wrapped her arms around herself.

“If you are a responsibility, then it is one I gladly bear; I don’t regret that part of my choice, Sophie.”

Bronte huffed a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Must I drag this information from you piece by piece? What are you talking about?”

Oralie gave him a rueful smile. “Maybe you’re always so grumpy because you’re so dense.” She straightened, running her hands along the folds of her gown to smooth them out. “I will have to own up to it eventually, though I do hope you understand why it must remain secret--and not for my own sake. I knew the consequences when Mr. Forkle reached out to me, a little over sixteen years ago now, hoping to create something new.”

Bronte’s eyes went wide, mouth falling open in the most expressive contortions of shock she’d ever seen on him. “You.”

Oralie nodded, and Bronte took a step back, gaze switching rapid fire between their faces, sizing them up and comparing the two. Sophie could imagine what he was seeing, the same blonde hair, though Sophie’s never fell in ringlets. The same pale skin, the same frame, maybe even similar bone structure and facial features she’d tried so hard to ignore since she’d found out.

“When the council finds out--”

“Which they won’t,” Oralie asserted, voice steady even as she wiped away further tears, tears Sophie had caused. “I can’t keep this secret forever, but I can keep it for now. You know what would happen if the world found out.”

Bronte swore under his breath, a hand rubbing against his forehead, trying to ease the marks his circlet left on his brow. Shockingly, he let that part of the conversation drop there, eyes finding Sophie again.

“You blame yourself,” he said simply.

Her eyes began watering again, heat rushing through her face as she hugged herself tighter, breath catching. “Seems pretty obvious to me. How could you not?”

Oralie shook her head, stepping forward like she’d reach out and touch her. “No, no, no. Sophie. It’s not you. I promise you that. I know you don’t trust me anymore, but it was not your fault. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine; he stayed because I stayed.”

“Did either of you kill Kenric?” Bronte asked bluntly. “Because it was Fintan at fault, not either of you.”

Sophie made a face. “But--”

“No buts.” He held out a hand firmly, stopping her. “Do not allow yourself to go down that path. Kenric chose to continue serving on his own. Neither of you should feel guilty about that, especially with how dangerous that emotion is. Is that why you were talking about the match? Trying to ease your own guilt.”

Reluctantly, she nodded. “It was the closest I could get without actually…talking about it.” It wasn’t like she wasn’t concerned about the match. Her points had been exactly what she thought, and they did need to fix the system so it stopped screwing people over.

But it wasn’t what had really been on her mind.

Kenric had died because he’d stayed on the council, and he’d stayed on the council because he couldn’t be with Oralie any other way. She was determined to stay on. Because one day her world would be accommodating an abnormality and she wanted the power to protect her.

And even if she’d stepped down, there would’ve been a secret in their way.

A secret daughter. A moonlark.

How had she repaid him? By missing all the warning signs in Fintan’s head as she healed him, letting him be consumed when he could’ve stepped down decades ago alongside Oralie. They wouldn’t have had to worry about her at all, getting involved in the messes she kept making and trying to fix.

That’s what she was supposed to do, right? Fix things?

Then why was she so bad at it?

“Sophie? I need to know that you understand none of this has to do with you. None of it’s your fault. Please.” Oralie did reach for her then, grabbing her hand and squeezing tight, shivering as the chaotic mess of her emotions passed through her body.

Sophie tugged at an eyelash, hating how itchy they got when she cried. “I understand.”

Bronte looked at Oralie and Oralie frowned. “You don’t believe me, though.”

She gave a helpless shrug.

“Kenric wouldn’t want you blaming yourself,” Bronte told her, the gentlest she’d heard him all evening. “I may not have been…the most supportive, when he was around, but I do know that much. He’d hate to see you break over this.”

Her voice wobbled. “Why do you have to be so sappy, this isn’t fair, you’re supposed to be the mean one.”

Oralie let out a slight laugh, shoulder relaxing at whatever she felt, still holding on to her hand. “Don’t worry. His good mood won’t last long.”

“I’m not--forget it. Will you be alright, Sophie? You’re not going to let this break you?”

She wiped away a few remaining tears, though she knew there’d be more later. “I won’t let it break me, for Kenric. It’s not…it’s not my fault.”

“Good.”

Taking another breath, she repeated, “It’s not my fault.”

Oralie smiled. “Right. Don’t forget that. And if it ever starts to creep up on you again, let us know. Or at least me, I can’t speak for Bronte. But I will always make time when you need me, Sophie. I did today, and I’d do it again.”

“So did it,” Bronte added. “I was in the middle of a rather important meeting when you sent your demanding hails.”

Sophie cringed, pulled her hair around her face to hide herself. She’d really just marched in here demanding the two of them fix the entire match system themselves despite knowing that wasn’t how anything worked and being incredibly strung out after she’d overheard a…less than kind comment at Foxfire that morning.

“Sorry.”

Oralie tilted her head. “For what?”

She gestured at everything, the whole world, the path worn through the carpet, her blotchy and tear-stained face. “Interrupting. Throwing a fit. I know…I know the match change isn’t fair to put entirely on you. I just wish it was easier.”

“Hey now, never apologize for feeling emotions, okay? Humans are meant to feel all this stuff, no matter how good or bad the feelings are. Besides; shoulders are built to be cried on!” Oralie’s eyes no longer watered, only a bit of redness revealing the tears they’d shared.

Bronte rolled his eyes at Oralie’s chipper optimism.

Sophie frowned. “You--we’re not human. And I haven’t actually cried on your shoulder.”

“Maybe not physically, but you let us comfort you in a moment of distress. And even if we aren’t human, I know you forget that.”

She didn’t have anything smart to say back to that, so she went quiet, trying not to pull out her eyelashes. She’d been good about that recently, and even as itchy as crying made them, she didn’t want to use that as an excuse to give in.

“You’re so determined…Kenric loved that about you,” Oralie said faintly, finally letting go of her hand.

“That,” Bronte said, “is something we can both agree on.”

Sophie felt her face warm, unsure whether to scowl at their antics or to start crying again at the thought of Kenric, of him loving something about her. Even after all the ways she’d failed him.

She shoved the thought away. It wouldn’t do her any good to dwell and blame herself, and Kenric would hate that. Instead, she could use all the complicated, unidentifiable feelings that bubbled up inside her at the mention of him to push herself forward.

Taking a deep breath, she ran her fingers through her hair, getting it out of her face, no longer hiding behind it.

Grabbing that hair tie off her wrist, she pulled it back, securing it as that determination Kenric loved solidified into something, something buzzing and eager and oh so ready to get to work.

“Okay. Forget all that. We can’t undo what’s already happened, but that doesn’t mean just because it’s difficult to change we shouldn’t try.”

She could’ve sworn Bronte was smiling as she marched forward, claiming one of the free chairs, both councillors trailing behind her as they took up their original seats, following her lead.

“Let me try this again.” Her voice held steady, eyes dry as she sat up straight.

Bronte waved his arm to indicate she had the floor. “Alright, Sophie. You’ve called us here. Are you going to start this meeting or not?”

Sophie met both their eyes, unflinching, steady. “Yes, I am. We’ve got a lot of work to do, after all. The match system isn’t going to rework itself overnight.”

Oralie tucked her hair behind her ear, leaning forward, lips curving into a smile. “No, I suppose it won’t. It’s a good thing we have you, then, isn’t it.”

It was a very good thing they had her, because she was going to shake this system up, break it down to its very core. No one else could do that like her, after all.

It’s why she was there.

To make things better.

And she wasn’t going to let anything tell her no or hold her back.

Kenric would love that.

[official-kenralie-fanbase]

You Are Not Alone

Here's a fic I wrote for Gradaline week! Fun fact: It's an edited version of the very first KOTLC fanfiction I ever wrote! (Also, this is *technically* for Day Five: Anger/Ruin, so... ignore the fact that it's a day late.) @gradaline-week

Summary: When Jolie died, Grady and Edaline had no one to turn to but each other. Now, when tragedy strikes again, Edaline knows what it's like to feel alone in your grief.

I'm adding my tag list for Perfect Match updates since I don't have a general fanfic tag list yet, but lmk if you want to be added to either/both: @bronte-deserves-better @you-have-been-frizzled @axels-corner @marella-gossipqueen-redek @istanrandomfandoms

Content warnings for discussions of grief

Edaline's memories of those horrid nights only grew more vivid with time.

She remembered Grady's quiet sobs as he lay beside her, his haggard, weary face, his ever-present anger. The two of them huddled together, against the world and against the gaping hole of loss and grief that threatened to swallow them whole.

They'd had no one.

Juline and Kesler tried, of course, more than anyone else, but even they didn't really understand what they were going through. Everyone was sympathetic, but no one knew. "We're terribly sorry for your loss," they'd say with downcast eyes and hushed voices. People acted as if the Ruewens' tragedy was contagious, and by looking at them, something just as awful would happen to them. People tiptoed around them, treating them delicately, like they'd break with too loud of a word or too bright of a color.

And there had been times that Edaline felt like she would.

It felt like color had vanished from her life. She didn't see the beauty of Havenfield that she always had noticed before. The world was black and white, dull and grey, nothing like the happiness she'd felt when Jolie was around.

But at least she had Grady.

She'd never forget how they'd clung to one another in the middle of the night, buried too deeply in their grief to say anything, simply holding onto each other like lifelines.

Edaline would have crumbled if it weren't for him. They were both holding on by threads, but somehow, it felt more bearable when they were both on the edge of falling apart.

That was how they made it through those fifteen years. Isolating themselves from the people who didn't understand, growing closer to the only other person who did.

Sophie's presence was a healing balm Edaline hadn't expected, putting the broken pieces of her and Grady back together so slowly, she didn't notice it was happening at first.

Slowly, color began to seep back into her life. She noticed the red and purple flowers growing in the garden, the beautiful bronzed brown of Sophie's eyes, the deep green of the grass, and the tossing, wild blue of the ocean beneath. Gradually, Edaline and Grady began to smile again. There were still times that they clung to each other in the middle of the night, trying to ignore how similar Sophie and Jolie were. But the aching, pulsing pain of grief that had been her constant companion for years began to fade.

Everything was supposed to be beautiful now.

But then the disastrous healing arrived, and she watched as someone else's life was drained of color.

Edaline numbly stood at the funeral, her hand in Grady's as they watched the tree planted. The Councillors stood watching with stoic expressions, their faces all the same mask of acceptance.

All except for one. Slowly, Edaline's focus shifted away from the funeral rites, a process she'd gone through two too many times, and to the person standing among the Councillors that wore an expression with which she was all too familiar. Oralie's eyes were tear-stained and red, her expression dazed as she looked into the distance.

Edaline wondered how the world was looking for her. Could she see the bright red leaves of the sapling growing before them? Or for her, was it simply another reminder of what she'd lost? Another piece of her life that would never be the same again? All throughout the rest of the day, she kept wondering about poor heartbroken Oralie, drowning in her own grief, thinking there was no one who could pull her from the waves.

Right then, Edaline made a decision.

When Jolie died, she'd had Grady to lean on. They'd both been shells of themselves, their broken pieces breaking more with every passing day, but they'd had each other. Edaline knew that Grady was the only reason she was standing here today, and not catatonic somewhere in a darkened room with an irreparably broken mind.

But Oralie had absolutely no one. No one who would understand her grief. No one who she could lean on. They'd all say they were sorry, give her sympathetic smiles and tender pats on the shoulder, but no one would actually know.

For a second, she hesitated as the plan formed itself in her mind. She was going to approach a Councillor, after all, and basically accuse her of breaking a major law. The fact that the Councillor who was grieving and the Councillor who'd died had been in love was common knowledge, but still dangerous. Maybe it would be better if she simply stayed out of it. After all, with all the drama from the planting and the upcoming election, she didn't even know if there would be time. Maybe her presence would just be an inconvenience.

But she remembered the painful, heart-wrenching grief she’d felt in the days surrounding Jolie’s death. She thought of the long, sleepless nights she and Grady had spent clutching one another and mourning over their daughter’s loss. No one understood. Everyone gave their condolences and said how sorry they were, but no one really got it. 

Grady had been the reason she hadn't lost her mind. He'd understood when no one else did. Without him, Edaline didn't want to think about where she'd be now.

Now she had the option to be that person for someone else. The person she’d needed when Jolie died, who knew how it felt to lose someone you loved with your entire heart. 

Maybe by being someone who knew what it was like, actually knew, she'd help Oralie start to bring color back into her life. That gaping hole of loss would always be there. For her and Grady, and for Oralie. But the wounds would scab, and though they would leave scars, life had to keep moving on. That was a truth Edaline wished she'd known at the time.

So, without a second thought, she whispered “Eternalia”, and leaped away.