#hey look i actually did an owlcatober

[offsidekineticist]

For owlcatober prompt #6, "family"

CW: grief, loss of a family member, referenced nonverbal episode, estrangement, lack of closure, spiders mentioned

The Sixth of Lamashan

You hate this day: the sixth of Lamashan. You hated it when it was just Ascendance Day to you, just a day when Iomedae's faithful ran around with toy swords to celebrate their goddess passing the test of the Starstone. But now you hate it for what it does to Thay every year.

"A birthday on Ascendance Day–that must've been rough when he was a kid."

"Not really–it wasn't nearly as popular in Brastlewark as it is here, so his birthday easily overshadowed it."

He always takes today off from his storytelling. Instead he comes downstairs and quietly prepares a cup of tea for himself before returning to your room. He doesn't speak during this process, even if spoken to. Sometimes you think he's lost in memories. Sometimes you think it's one of his nonverbal episodes. Whatever the case, it is in silence that he goes to your room and settles down in a rocking chair with the same book he reads every year: On Fighting Demons, by Regill Derenge.

"Wait–you have a brother? What the fuck–I've known you for thirty fucking years and you never told me you have a fucking brother?"

"Well it hardly matters now that he's dead, now, does it?"

You hate it. You hate seeing him in pain, but you especially hate seeing him in pain over someone who doesn't deserve it–and from everything your husband has told you, Regill Derenge doesn't deserve shit from Thay. Even ignoring the fact that he was a hellknight (though you're not sure why you'd ignore that), the guy apparently sat down to settle his affairs and didn't think Thay deserved so much as a notification of his death. Thay only found out because one of the other expats from Brastlewark heard about it from her sister and offered her condolences. Because apparently the local newspaper in Brastlewark got a notification and an obituary to publish, but Thay? Why the fuck should he be told his little brother was dead?

"Don't hold it against him–we parted on difficult terms. I was rather cruel to him. I understand why he wouldn't want to see me again."

"He didn't have to see you again. He just had to write a fucking letter for you to read after he died."

Thay still hasn't read that obituary. There's something in there he's afraid to see. He won't say what, but from the way he tenses up when you ask about it, you can guess: it has something to do with Rivad.

"Was he there? Was he there, Thay?"

"I don't know. If he was, I don't want to know."

So every year, like clockwork, you send the kids out to play at being knights with the Iomedaeans while you sit in the kitchen and stare at the wall and wait, because your husband is mourning his asshole brother who didn't bother reconciling and might have fucking tortured him.

"It's my own fault–I tried writing to him once, but the letter came back and…I gave up. I should have tried harder to find him."

"Thay, you lived in the same fucking house for a hundred fucking years. You're not the one who should have tried harder."  

It's always long after dark, the kids sound asleep, by the time you hear the door open. His eyes are always dark from crying–they don't get red because his blood is gray–and he always apologizes for keeping you up so late. You sometimes answer with words. You always answer with a hug.

"Does it help? The book, I mean."

"I don't know. I can't hear him when I read it. Maybe I'm not listening closely enough. Maybe I've forgotten what he sounded like. Or maybe he changed so much that I just don't know what he sounded like anymore."

You lead him to bed and let him rest his head on your chest. He falls asleep listening to your heartbeat while you card your hands through his hair. Sometimes he quietly cries himself to sleep. Sometimes he tells you stories as he drifts off–the time Regill made Thay sneak into a pub for their first drinks, or how Regill used to just lay down and take naps wherever he felt like, or how Regill was terrified of spiders, and whenever he found one in their bedroom Thay would carry it outside and then regale his brother with tales of the itsy bitsy spider's grisly grisly death.

"You never actually killed them?"

"Of course not. I considered them my friends."

"..."

"I was a very lonely child."

You always stay awake until he's sound asleep, keeping vigil against some unknown threat, some monster made of grief. And every year, lying in the dark listening to the sound of Thay's breathing, you become more convinced that Thay deserved a better brother, and Regill deserved worse one. You know not every hellknight goes to hell after death, but if there's any justice in the world, Regill did. And every year, on the sixth of Lamashan, you hope the devils of hell are as creative as you are, because he deserves to suffer for what he's still doing to Thay.

[thebirdarts]

The Death of Family

blood stains, innocent blood stains harder. The blood of those you love stains forever. For prompt 6 of @owlcatober , family [click for better quality and notes are under the cut]

this did not happen but also this is what actually happened, the true version of events, not whatever cold and callous series of events actually took place in the mansion on that night.

this is the metaphorical representation of what happened.

her best friend dying in her arms, white dress getting stained by the blood. fingers intertwined the same way as when they practiced dancing. she dies with a smile on her lips and muras eyes are heavy with grief, taking in every detail as the blood pours out from the gash marring her friends beauty. something in her shatters at the same time as the woman in her arms heart stops beating. something shatters so badly that all is left is glass dust, impossible to put back together. in the warped light the blood looks pink and the shadows on her dress seem akin to the bloodstains on her friends. the only thing unstained, the last gift, a wreath of pure white flowers.

What is left after you kill the only person you let in your heart, other than to become a monster.

so this is entirely for the symbolism. mura wouldnt have her classic hairstyle yet [hell i didnt colour in hair or eyes because muras current ones are dyes/changed] and they both would be younger and given shes using gonna use the body to set up someone she would not have time for a melodramatic finger-entwined kinda embrace.

but the drama!!!!

the parallels to the pieta are intentional [but hey what dead body cradled in someones arms cant be related to it]

her friend is the sacrificial lamb for muras permanent decent into villainy. with her friend gone she has no reason to care for others beyond her own survival.

in many ways this moment is more important that mura overtaking her father, this moment seals her on her trajectory. in many ways this froze mura in time, and planted the largest crack in the wall of her image of her fathers excellence.

ive mentioned it before but the only way for mura to be happy and anywhere near normal, would be someone interfering before this point. as soon as her friends heart stopped beating shes locked in her path and beliefs.

it has a roundabout connection to the prompt, it damages her relationship with her father, and also regardless of the label, her kinship with her freind is a powerfull bond, and their extend lifetimes meaning that the growth they shared was not over years but decades, makes her so important to mura, and in some ways family.

an alternate title would be 'death of innocence' or rather the death of muras last shred of compassion and love.

the two fracture points are mura and her friends hearts. i will use the shattered glass motif till i overuse it.

also yes the braid around muras bun thing in the future is a replacement for the wreath of flowers her friend gave her. heartless my ass. for somone who wants nothing more than to forget what happened she sure doesnt let herself forget.

anyway! girlbesties!!! dont we all kill each other and parts of ourself just for the approval of greater forces!!! betray and scar each other in ways that will last forever!!! whats a friend but a sacrifice waiting to happen!!

notes on the piece over, this is now a personal update:

so this was delayed cause i overexerted myself, unfortunately this means my weekend to relax and do some more prompts is now spent testing the limits of how many painkillers i can take. im mostly annoyed, but hey! still have plenty of jojos to watch /read, and ds9 & the expanse are up next on my watch-list so its fine that i cant move any muscle connected to my shoulders without crying in pain! please ignore the pile of corsework i have to do!

this isnt at a level of quality that i would like it to be, but i am happy with it. no artist ever is fully satisfied with their work, its just this time there is a larger distance than normal.

these notes have been long! thank you for reading so far! i hope your weekend is going well!

[iwoszareba]

Owlcatober 1: Protection

(post-game, demon Woljif, canon-typical violence)

_ _ _

"Listen pal, you pay what we agreed to and we can part as friends. Simple."

Woljif did a background check on this guy and nothing extraordinary came up, just a small fry demon like any other, but something about his nasty grin was saying I'm not very good at poker and I have an ace up my sleeve. 

"And how about I just take what I want? What could you possibly do about that, half-blood?"

Woljif winced, back on Golarion everyone was making a ruckus over his abyssal heritage and when actually in Abyss he got berated over his mortal origins. You just can't please these people, can you?

"I'm a more powerful demon than you ever will be." he hissed.

This dolt was clearly looking for a fight because that was enough to get him raging. He flipped the table that was between them with intention to brawl but big swings of his fists were slow and unfocused, Woljif had no problem dodging around them. In return he was able to send a jolt of magical energy through his fingers to his opponent, making him stagger.

"Last offer. We end this now and you won't get zapped no more."

The big guy let out a gurgling laugh and moved his hand to a dagger on his belt. The moment it was free of its sheath it started to glow with a web of complex runes. One glance was enough to tell Woljif this was bad news. Terrible even. But he had a contingency plan in place.

"You are givin' me no choice."

Woljif grabbed a purple crystal he wore as a necklace and whispered a few words. Several copies of his visage appeared around him and started to run in the demon's direction. As Woljif expected that blade was laced with some powerful magic making even this klutz fight with monstrous speed. Left and right his illusions were vanishing on impact, still it gave him a bit of a head start before the demon noticed him disappear around the corner. Woljif knew this area well by now and could navigate to his advantage for a while but even that was not enough to beat a magically charged demon. A powerful arm grabbed him by his collar and hoisted him up into the air, his legs dangling helplessly.

"You really thought these silly tricks would be enough?"

Woljif wriggled to no effect but there was a grin plastered on his face.

"Enough to buy me some time, sure."

In an instant the dark alley was filled with purple light and the sound of opening portal. The air became dense, shadows grew longer. Demon's eyes opened wider, but he did not turn around, seemingly frozen in place.

A voice came from behind his back.

"I don't know what your deal is but that's no way to treat an honest businessman."

Woljif was unceremoniously dropped to the ground and the demon finally found the courage to swing his weapon at the newcomer. The dagger connected with the flesh.

"Chief!"

Woljif couldn't stop himself from yelling out but the concern seemed unnecessary. While the blade was deep in chief's gut his clawed hands were firmly holding the arm of the confused and terrified demon.

"I accept your sharp gift! In return I decided to spare your lousy life."

In one swift move he pulled the demon closer, now staring directly into his eyes. Claws started digging into skin and muscle beneath.

"Tell others that if anyone tries this shit with Woljif again: I will find you. I will drag the worst nightmares directly from your skulls and I will make them reality. Understood?"

The demon was nodding furiously, tears falling from his eyes as he did.

"Good."

And with that chief released him completely. Woljif has never seen a demon this big run away so fast, you could almost believe he still had the dagger on him.

He got up, dusted himself off and came over to Knave who was licking his lips in contemplation.

"Did he taste any good?"

Woljif asked trying to sound calm. He still thought there was something incredibly weird about feeding on people's fear but hey, at this point what about the chief was normal.

"Not really. The guy was a coward, they are always a little insipid."

I hope I don't taste like that anymore was not a though Woljif expected to have today but he couldn't help himself. But for sure he was not going to ask for confirmation.

"Here." Knave took the dagger out of his stomach with barely a flinch and extended it towards Woljif "That should cover whatever he owed you."

A long moment passed as Woljif just stared at the blade, both of them standing there in awkward silence.

"Yeah, sorry about the blood."

Knave piped up eventually and started to sheepishly wipe the metal with the edge of his shirt.

"It's not that, chief. I think you should take it as a payment for your help "

"Why? I didn't care about your money before and I don't care about it now."

Woljif was not sure if this was a case of being facetious or genuinely confused. He was no expert on such things but wasn't there some basic rule about fey and debts? And even without that… nothing comes for free. It just wasn't the kind of relationship he wanted to foster with anyone anymore.

"I dragged you all the way here and you helped me out, but I don't want this lingering."

Chief made a thinking expression and tapped the tip of the dagger to his chin twice.

"I see. Well, if you want to repay me you could always do that in stories. That seems like a sensible currency to me. And you always had some fun ones to tell!"

Something at Woljif's core stirred and he had to squash that feeling back down. During the crusade he decided that the two of them can't be anything more than allies… but something about chief's mischievous grin always made him want to smile back. He grabbed once again offered dagger and with a sigh he conceded.

"Deal."

[dragonologist-phd]

Owlcatober Day 20 - Void

The heroes arrive at Defender’s Heart, fulfilling their mission- but it’s not long before fate throws another surprising twist at them.

also on ao3

After what can only be called the longest day of Eden’s entire life, the sight of Defender’s Heart is almost enough to make her cry. She enjoys approximately forty minutes of calm before the storm stirs up again.

Everything goes according to plan, at first. They deliver Rekarth’s report to Anevia and Irabeth, both of whom immediately leap into action. Between barking orders and preparing defenses, they do spare a moment to thank the ragtag group, and their gratitude is quickly followed by a command to get some rest.

“We can take it from here,” Anevia tells Rekarth. “No offense, but you lot look too beat to be much use right now. You’ve done your part, and we’ve got a fighting chance because of you- now go get some shuteye.”

Eden has never seen Rekarth look so gratified. When he’s done soaking in the praise from his commanders, he leads Eden and Sendri to the back of the tavern, where a set of stairs dips into the darkness below.

“We can hunker down in the basement- nice and out of the way,” he says. He pauses at the top step, and then with more sincerity than Eden would have thought him capable of, turns to her and says, “Thanks, by the way. I wouldn’t have made it here without you.”

“I didn’t do it alone,” Eden points out.

“Yeah,” Rekarth agrees, cracking his knuckles. Realization doesn’t set in until Eden gives him a disapproving look, and when it does he rolls his eyes. “Oh, you meant- fine. Thanks for not blowing us up, Sendri.”

Sendri brightens at the recognition and grants Rekarth a sweeping bow. “It was my greatest pleasure!”

Eden laughs. “Now, I’m ready to- Seelah?”

All thoughts of rest fly from Eden’s mind as the paladin woman she spotted stops in her tracks and turns. Eden half-expects to go unrecognized, but no- Seelah’s face lights with recognition, and a grin spreads across her face.

“Hey! Everbright, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eden says, standing up straighter. She can’t believe Seelah actually remembers her. “I’m the-”

“The smith down by the square, I remember!” Seelah pushes through the crowd to move closer, still smiling. She pulls at the sword on her hip, showing off the hilt, and Eden feels an odd swooping in her stomach as she recognizes her own craftwork in Seelah’s hands.

“Best weapons we ever had came from your shop,” Seelah says. “Glad to see you looking…well, alive.”

“You too,” Eden replies. “Of course, I knew you’d be fine. You’re- well, you’re you.”

It’s a silly thing to say, but Seelah grins in response all the same. “Aw, it’s all part of the job. And anyway, I had help. A new friend of mine. She’s…well, she’s different. But she’s got this power that I think could really change things.” An edge of awe creeps into Seelah’s tone. Eden has to fight back an irrational twinge of jealousy.

“You should meet her, later,” Seelah continues, oblivious. “She’s out in the city now, but we’ve got runners tracking her down. We’ll need her help for this big battle coming up.”

“Yeah,” Eden agrees, because she can’t think of anything else to say. “Good luck out there.”

“Who needs luck?” Seelah jokes. She slides her sword back into its sheath with another confident grin. “I’ve got an Everbright blade- I’m all set.”

Fortunately, someone else shouts for Seelah before Eden has to think of a response. Seelah gives her a quick wave goodbye and disappears into the crowd, leaving Eden to be scrutinized by Rekarth.

“So…” he drawls, “who was that?”

“Oh, that’s just Seelah. She’s a paladin,” Eden says, fighting to sound normal. “She’s been in my shop a couple times. That’s all.”

“Yeah…” Rekarth sounds doubtful, but he leaves it for now and turns back to Sendri-

But Sendri is gone.

“What the hells did that gnome do now?!” Rekarth cries. He takes off down the stairs, Eden close on his heels.

The basement is far, far brighter than it should be- it’s filled with a shining, blinding light, and as Eden squints into the glare she realizes it’s a portal. What she doesn’t know is how a portal got down here.

“Stay back!” Sendri’s voice sounds out from the center of the portal, and he does not sound nearly as panicked as he likely should. “I’ll be fine. I’m done running. But you two don’t have to do this.”

“What the blazes is that madman talking about?” Rekarth mutters, and Eden has no answer.

But even if she doesn’t have an answer, she knows what she has to do. “Come on, we can’t just leave him!”

Rekarth looks at her as if she’s lost her mind. “Yes,” he says, thoroughly baffled by Eden’s proclamation. “We can! This doesn’t concern us.”

Eden gives the tiefling a steely look. “Fine. I can’t leave him.”

Rekarth glances between her and the portal, his jaw grinding. “Dammit,” he finally says, and Eden knows it’s an agreement.

The decision is likely a bad one…but to sit here in safety while her new friend faces some unknown danger is undoubtedly worse. So Eden takes a deep breath, prepares to leave this place with its safety and security and Seelah behind, and with Rekarth at her side and Sendri up ahead, she steps into the void.