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killmebythebeach · 3 years ago

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A bunch of head cannons (Maybe too much). Also in talking about the characters.

I think Dream is that one design where his skin is just the static tv screen. He just constantly emits that fuzzy noise, Sam crafted him the smile mask that he can see through so he doesn't scare people.

George is just kind of the server itself. He's the same species as Hannah, but a mushroom and more powerful. If he stays awake too long, the server just kind of freezes. This is also a reason XD keeps him sleeping, it's his way of talking to George and he thinks the server is like his soap opera of mortals.

Callahan is sort of like the person who makes sure George doesn't get killed or dies while asleep, making sure he's surrounded by mushrooms and such. Deer hybrid <3

Alyssa joined the server because she knew all her friends were idiots and didn't want them to die immediately. But once the elections rolled around, she felt the pressure of choosing sides and ran away to the desert, only keeping contact with Ponk. She actually lives just a couple miles from Foolish's summer home. Her communicator actually died after a couple months and she had no way of charging it, so she lost contact with everyone.

Sapnap is a magma cube hybrid and can jump higher than most, his natural temperature runs hotter, and is fire proof. Bad found him in the nether when he was maybe 10-15 years old.

Sam was actually a normal creeper, but gained player like sentience from being struck by lightning. Instead of becoming charged, he gained intelligence and met the others on the server. Callahan taught him some Redstone, but from there he figured out a lot on his own. He's also a creeper centaur.

Ponk is actually a descendant of a fairy, a lemon tree. Their mask was also a gift from Sam because after the second or third time their tree was burnt, their immune system was weakened a considerable amount. Alyssa also wore her mask for them.

Bad is a size shifting demon from the nether, more specifically soul sand desert. He uses soul fire to gain strength, so because the egg died when near it, he was just a little weaker than normal. Because he's a demon he needs a tie to the overworld to stay there, he tied his soul and lives to Skeppy.

Tommy was grown in a lab to be a hero, project: THESEUS. The lab gave him small enhancements, like slightly stronger and just a bit more resilient, to make the Above Average Boy (TM). He then ran away to meet Wilbur. When Dream asked Wilbur if he wanted to come to the server, he asked if Tommy could go first to see what it was like. He also actually really likes gardening and making up funny songs to Wilbur playing guitar. He also made funny lyrics for his discs, but he's still a bit scared to take them out of his ender chest. Other than bringing attachment, Dream also exiled Tommy to see what his lab enhancements could do.

Tubbo is an adaptive hybrid! His hair was blond, shifting to brown when Wilbur found him, getting blue eyes from Tommy, growing small horns under Schlatt, parts of his skin being static when Dream was "helping" him with his presidency, and parts of his scars tinging black and green from Ranboo and Micheal. Tubbo also helped Wilbur write part of the anthem. He likes living in the snow because the Manberg flag had magma blocks on it, casting a heatwave over the country, and after L'Manburg blew up it got really hot from the exposed stone in direct sun.

Fundy can actually hold his breath for a very long time and swim very well because of Sally teaching him and his salmon genes. The yellow things on his hat are actually shells, and the stripes on his jacket are trans colors. Also with his dreams, he saw Eret was going to betray them but didn't think it was real, or didn't want to. He also saw Wilbur blow up L'Manburg but chose not to believe it, thinking his father could still be saved. He actually saw pretty much everything, but didn't quite understand what they were until after doomsday.

The necklace Punz wears is one of those picture lockets, but he lost the picture and can't remember what it was. The first time Dream paid him was when Dream asked for help and Punz made an off hand joke about getting money, and then Dream thought he was being serious. Him, Dream, and Sapnap were like brothers, and Punz got sadder every time he saw Dream pushing people away and diving deeper into darkness.

Purpled is an aliensent to see if the planet was colonizable, but then crashed and was stranded, all his communications down and his ship barely able to hover fifty feet off the ground. When Quackity blew it up, he essentially got rid of his chance of ever going home. Purpled's species can shapeshift, so he turned himself into the first person he saw, Punz. Eventually before trying to communicate with the native life forms, he edited his form a little so they weren't identical, keeping purple eyes and antennae, changing the colors slightly, and changing the voice up. When he moves away from the main SMP, Ponk makes sure to check up on him and that he has a way to check his communicator.

Wilbur came a month after sending Tommy. His father being a patron of life and his mother the goddess of death, he met in the middle being born as a human. The only reason Ghostbur was as active and present as he was was because he was so connected to both life and death. Since his corpse was decaying for as long as it was, Wilbur is now super weak, his flesh is thin and his eyes are rotted and gone. Much like Ghostbur, Wilbur in limbo saw what people said about him, and Ghostbur could hear that from the back of his head. Now Wilbur can hear what people say about Ghostbur and he hates it, not wanting to be connected to what he thinks like a shell of himself.

Schlatt is a ram (duh) and actually does the fainting goat thing. So when he died of a heart attack, no one knew at first if he was actually dead or not. His alcoholism stems from the revive book, as the possibility of tampering with death made him existential and scared, so to cope he drank. There are also a ton of other stuff other than revival in the book, but it's in galactic.

Skeppy was just a normal human, but after making the pact with Bad, Bad put a spell on him. Parts of him turned into diamond, protecting both his and Bad's lives. He however, is unaware of this. With the egg, he would just sit on it, the diamonds chipping away to make room for the vines.

Eret was cursed by the Wither Cult, giving them white eyes and a slowly deteriorating memory. Not sure what to do, Foolish dropped them off at the SMP. Sometimes they would dream about old memories from before the curse, but it was just glimpses so he could never tell what they meant. Once they were king, they made the Herobrine shrine subconsciously, not really sure what it was after. They also had a strange affinity of beacons and resurrection, some of their memories resurfacing when they tried to help Phil and Ghostbur revive Wilbur after doomsday. The reason people are more scared of their eyes than any other wierd eyes was because he generally looks like a normal human, but the wither along with their Herobrine origins creates an uncanny valley that people are shocked by.

Jack had red and blue irises before crawling out of hell, but after coming back the whites of his eyes also turned red and blue. He always wears 3d glasses so no one noticed, but he just thought no one cared enough to mention it. He also has a bunch of scars and burn marks that no one but him can see, therefore no one asks about them or thinks something is wrong, cementing the idea that no one cares about him.

Niki is a blaze hybrid (stole this from @/420technoblazeit) whose fire hair color changes based on strong emotion, something she bond with Tubbo for as a fellow shifter. A soft yellow in L'Manburg, brighter orange in Manburg, hot pink on Doomsday, a soul fire blue with the syndicate (which Techno hates), and a dead grey when she found out Wilbur was alive. She was also old child hood friends with Ranboo and Eret, leaving Ranboo for the SMP. Ranboo, unfortunatly, doesn't remember much more than her name. She also knows galactic from Ranboo, so she talks about her troubles to Shy the Enderman. She doesn't really know how to talk to Puffy anymore after Doomsday or finding out how she wants to protect Tommy.

Quackity can perfectly replicate someone's voice and, with a lot of effort, can completely change his form to another player. He also has very small yellow wings, too small to fly, so he almost always hides them. He used to constantly change his voice for jokes with Karl, Sapnap, and George, but he doesn't like doing it now in Las Nevadas, as he sees it as unprofessional. However, sometimes he uses when he visits Dream, changing his voice to people like George and Sapnap to make torture more effective.

In the In Between and Other Side, Karl actually looks like his old skin, or his natural state (the big purple one that inspired his sweater). But most of the time in the normal world, he looks human. With effort he can bring out the interdemential being thing, something only Quackity and Sapnap know about. The more he time travels, the easier it becomes to change, and he's even started defaulting to the other form.

HBomb is actually just a normal news reporter, sent to interview and record what's going on in the server, his first big story being the election. Upon Doomsday, the stress of seeing everyone alone, fighting, and disconnected, he ran away from the world, essentially becoming a cat lady. His undercover reporter persona is actually the cat maid. He eventually came back to the server to see how he could help after Doomsday, befriending Niki again and living with her in the underground city.

Techno is a piglin, so he's scared of soul fire. He forgot to tell Phil before he decorated the syndicate room, so he just suffers in silence. He also does better when around a lot of gold, like in the nether, and he feels drained and slightly weaker without it. Instead of just putting gold around the area (it would ruin his property value), he just hibernates. He has an emerald earing, like all of the syndicate, but his is a locket that unfolds into pictures of the syndicate.

Ant always wears a red hoodie, now ruined by the egg, that used to be Red's. On Red's death anniversary, him, Bad, Skeppy, and Sam would make cake and put flowers on his grave. He missed the last one because it was during the egg, but for a brief moment after Puffy killed him he saw Red. Red then promptly and bluntly told him to stop being a pussy (haha, cat) and that he shouldn't do all this just to get him back, one of Ant's motivators to make amends with the people he hurt while with the egg. Ant is also a shapeshifter, but can only turn into a cat.

Phil actually used to work under Foolish as a patron of life but then he had a son with the goddess of death, so his title was removed so he could be with her and he became an Angel of Death. Kristin noticed how sad he was after being released, so she gifted him wings. They were however, destroyed on November 16th. His chat also serves as messenger pigeons, which were used to send letters to Wilbur.

Connor is actually just a hedgehog who somehow befriended Schlatt. Even before the haunted mansion, Karl vented to him about his time travel troubles, not knowing he was a sentient player. As a hedgehog, no one really cares where he goes, so he goes outside the server limits to meet his friends from the haunted mansion.

Puffy is a distant relative of Schlatt, but instead of politics she went into piracy. With her mom, she went travelling the seas. One say, a storm came and wiped out her ship, her crew, her mom, everything but her. The reason she survived was because Foolish saw her and saved her. Unfortunately, Puffy hit hee head in the crash and doesn't remember anything.

Vikkstar is the equivalent of a big time celebrity, so of course his endorsement of POG2020 was a big deal.

Lazarbeam is literally just a ginger bread cookie.

Ranboo has actually met a lot of the smp before actually joining. He's met Niki, Fundy, Eret, Punz, and Dream at least. He also sees the inverted colors Enderman see. His suit was actually a gift from Eret before they forgot how to tailor. He got the crown from Techno after joining the syndicate, claiming he didn't want any syndicate members to look like trash.

Foolish came to the server most recently to check up on Eret, but he couldn't bring himself to leave again. When Puffy adopts him, he can't say no because he remembers saving her. His initial goal was to kill an ender dragon to claim the XD title and become a full god like DreamXD, but after realising someone already killed it he went into his totem if death phase. Upon meeting Eret, he got over it and they went on some silly adventures, Foolish now taking a more peaceful route.

Hannah is essentially a weaker George, as her power is tied to the plants themselves and not the entire server. She however has a lot more physical power because rose dryads like to fight because they have thorns. Since roses can be taken out a lot easier, she is essentially a glass canon. Also when around any plant, she can make it grow faster than normal.

Any guest on the server? Corpse, Pokimane, Lil Nas? They were all Slimecicle. That's how he knows where everyone is from, even outside of Las Nevadas. No one else knows this. He's also ancient, if he met Phil they would probably recognise eachother. There was an actual Charlie Slimecicle who was not a slime, but after being launched into orbit this Slimecicle decided to impersonate him.

Michael Mcchill is a sort of bounty hunter. He came to the server after hearing of all the crime, assuming there'd be a lot of bounties to collect. However, he soon learned that no one really cares if you commit a crime. He then took to reading news articles made by HBomb to see if there were any past open bounties. But after reading for a while about the server's wronguns, mostly Dream, he began to sympathise with them. And he's also a speedrunner, so maybe he could help with some bounties across other servers!

This was a very long post and i apologize, but it was so fun to finally write all these thoughts down! I hope you liked them! I can't even fit all the tags I want.

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desertofsnowflakes · 3 years ago

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Incorrect Order Chapter 2 (Nessian AU)

A/N: DO inform me if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist! If you happen to find my storyline similar to another fic or one of yours, I'm extremely sorry, I might've just not known. All characters belong to the author Sarah J. Mass. Enjoy!

Summary: Don't first impressions always affect the way you see someone? Well, what more with the Nesta Archeron? Nesta meets Cassian at few unexpected places and to say it didn't go well was a major understatement. Certain circumstances make them become enemies to tolerable company to friends to lovers.

Trigger Warnings: Abuse and Swearing

1957 words | Part 1 | Read on AO3

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Cassian was waiting. And waiting. And waiting. He waited for the day he would forget the woman’s face. He waited for the day he could close his eyes without seeing her blue-grey eyes blazing in anger. He waited for the day he wouldn’t burn his bacon because he was thinking about her.

He had mused, how the face of a stranger was branded into his mind vividly. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t wondered if they’ve known each other before or have seen each other somewhere, anywhere before the day in the mall—even if on photographs or at an event or at another shopping mall. Still, he desperately wanted to forget about her. He wanted to forget that she ever existed. He wanted to forget their encounter in the mall that day. He wanted to forget everything about her, even though deep down, he knew what he wanted was far from forgetting her.

But he couldn’t afford this. He couldn’t afford to think about her at all times. He was getting distracted at work. His part-time job as a martial-arts instructor and as a sommelier was in a precarious position if it went on like this. He nearly tore one of his student’s muscles in his centre and got at least 5 orders wrong at the restaurant he was working at.

On a Saturday noon, Cassian decided the best way to clear his head was to dive into a war book or reread Secrets Of The Sommeliers for probably the millionth time.

* * *

Nesta flinched at the sudden ping of the oven timer. Again. She’d been thinking about him again. This was the fourth time in the whole week when she burned her cheese sandwich and she was getting so tired of this. She urgently needed a way to stop thinking about him. To stop seeing his insufferable grin whenever she closed her eyes. To stop thinking about him at almost all times.

It struck her as odd, the fact they didn’t even know each other’s names but she kept seeing his face as if they’ve known each other before. She gasped. What if they had known each other before? What if they were probably neighbours from Nesta’s old house or classmates or maybe they went to the same college. Nesta shook her head.

But why should she care? No, she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care what his name is or if he even has a name. She doesn’t care if she’s had the misfortune of seeing him before or if that was the first she’s seeing him. Or so she kept telling herself. She couldn’t afford to have him occupy her thoughts. She had better things to do. But all these excuses weren't enough to stop her from still thinking about him.

Nesta looked at her clock. It was a Saturday, almost noon. Maybe reading a spicy book or two will help.

* * *

Cassian loved the House of Wind library and bookstore. They had a variety of books in almost any genre. He'll admit though, that some of the librarians here are better left alone. He was lucky he came here often and therefore knew a handful of the merrier librarians. He made a beeline for his favourite section, books related to wine, best books for sommeliers.

On his way to the shelves he had committed to memory, he realised that there was a big poster about their annual Free Premium Membership Fest where 20 fortunate, early birds would get their membership card updated to premium with a number of privileges. Cassian's whole being was elevated. He missed the last fest they held and had been waiting for the next fest. He wondered how he could forget such an important thing. Oh. Right. Of course. A certain lady was occupying his thoughts. He sighed. He forgot about that too.

He was quite disappointed when he reached the counter. The fest started yesterday and the computer stated that there was only one person left till 20. What truly disappointed him was that Clotho wasn't at the counter as she usually was. Maybe she'll be in the—

“If you're done staring at the computer maybe you could deign to move so it can really serve its purpose of being a public property?” Cass froze. He'd know that voice anywhere. This was the voice taunting him at all times. “And if you have coffee in your hands, I'd suggest you turn slowly.”

He smirked. So she knew who she was talking to.

“Well, looks like the damage would be lesser this time since your clothes aren't white,” he observed.

“I figured black would hide stains caused by ogling, clumsy people better than white,” she said. “Now, if you could move, I want to register for the Membership Fest.”

“Register? What do you mean by ‘I want to register for the Membership Fest’?”

“A register, you know,” she teased, “Something like a form where you fill your details if you want to join something?” She smirked at his glare.

“Well,” he said, “if there is a register let me fill it first.”

“Because your ego is bigger?”

“Ha-ha, very funny,” he dead-panned. “I came here first.”

“Here as in the counter or the library? Because I’m pretty sure I stepped into this library first.”

Cassian quickly checked the database where the information of all members appeared. He turned back to her with a self-satisfied smirk. “The database shows otherwise, sweetheart.”

She scowled. “I don’t believe you. You might’ve tampered with the information.”

He moved slightly to the side to give her a better view. Her scowled deepened.

She rounded on him. “You,” seethed. “You did—”

“Hello,” a new, shy voice said.

“Hey, Gwyn,” they both said in symphony.

A look of surprise crossed over her features before it faded away. When the woman turned to Gwyn, she wore a huge smile. “Oh, look, she smiles,” he muttered, earning him a glare.

“Is the fest still on?” Cassian asked.

Gwyneth Berdara, one of the joyful librarians here, said, “Unfortunately, not. We just got our 20th member.”

Cassian’s face fell. He noticed the same of the woman too. Gwyn, always the optimistic one, said cheerfully, “Maybe we could reserve one for the both of you next year?”

They both murmured their assent before Gwyn offered her farewell and went back to the staffroom.

The woman turned back to him. “This is all your fault,” she hissed and stalked out of the library, leaving Cassian more confused than ever.

* * *

Nesta went to the library to find solace or at least a semblance of it. Seeing the man there, however, left Nesta more rattled than she would care to admit. Rattled, and angry. Angry at the universe for giving them these unfortunate encounters. Angry at him for following her wherever she went. Angry at herself for feeling such futile emotions. Angry at her body for reacting to him.

She was also upset that she didn’t get a free premium member cr

Nesta was so occupied with her thoughts and emotions that she didn’t realise she was taking the wrong route. She wasn’t familiar with this part of Velaris. She also didn’t realise she was being followed. It was distinct, the sound of hushed breathing, of the soft thuds of footfalls. The footsteps sounded heavier which most probably meant it was a man. She couldn’t really be sure, though. This was a person who was not experienced in stalking but was trying hard enough.

Nesta knew she shouldn’t panic but couldn’t help the bout of fear that crashed through her. Nesta tried to stay calm. She tried to make sure she didn't quicken her pace. She tried, cauldron, she really did. But her fear was slowly overpowering her senses. She felt the urge to run away from her stalker.

But that wouldn’t be wise. Running away from her stalker isn’t a good choice. It wasn’t smart. Who’s to know he wasn’t armed? What if he was faster than her? What if her stalker was faster than her? He might be stronger too. He could over power her and cage her in. She didn’t even know what his motive was.

Then, Nesta made a ridiculously huge, dumb mistake. She turned to an abandoned alley. At least it looked abandoned. She let out a frustrated breath. Running away was at least better than getting stuck in an alley. So much for ‘that wouldn't be wise’. She looked around, trying to get a sense of where she was or if there were any means of escape, however meager it might be.

Suddenly, she was slammed to the alley wall. The rough cold stone was unforgiving and unyielding under her cheek. Her windpipe was closed off and she was struggling to get some air in. She fought to get free but her captor —a man, as she guessed— was too strong. Somehow, his hands felt familiar to her. As if she were long acquainted with this person’s touch.

“What do you want?” she gasped out.

He chuckled, the sound grating through her very bones.

“My little Nesta,” he whispered, his hot breath ghosting the shell of her ear. “Ever the stubborn one.”

That voice. It was one that she couldn’t forget as hard as she tried. Tomas Mandray, her ex-boyfriend, was someone not easily forgotten.

“Tomas,” she said. She couldn’t bring herself to be nice. Not now, not after how he treated her. “What the fuck do you want? Let me go.”

“I see you haven’t changed at all.”

“I can say the same of you.”

“Mhm. You broke up with me and then you called the police. Got me stuck behind bars for two fucking months.”

“Good riddance,” she muttered.

He slammed her head against the wall. Hard. Blinding pain shot through her. He yanked her hair so hard she was afraid chunks of it came out. Her head only throbbed harder.

“Manners were never your cup of tea,” he hissed.

“You were not that kind either. You were an empowering, possessive bastard and I don’t regret watching you grovel to the police for freedom for one fucking moment and I won’t ever.”

He growled and slammed her head against the wall again. She cried out and was pretty sure she heard something crack. She felt the metallic tang of blood on her lips, streaming from her nose freely.

“Oh, you will. You’ll regret everything. Every. Single. Thing. For your whole god-damned life. I’ll make sure of it, bitch,” he promised.

He tightened his grip on her hair that sent another wave of agony through her. She caught the glint of something in the fading sunlight. A knife. Of course he had a knife.

He had a knife while she was a mess, kneeling on an alley, completely at the mercy of one of the people who hated her the most. Pathetic. So, so, pathetic. She hated herself for whimpering. She hated herself for being this weak. She hated that she had gotten panicked enough that she turned to an alley, where no one would know.

Here, in this unknown alley, with the person she hated the most, Nesta Archeron was going to die. She was going to die a death as unknown as the place she was in. Maybe even without her sisters knowing. Shit. Her sisters. If only she showed all her love to sweet Elain and brave Feyre, if only she even went to meet her brother-in-laws, Rhysand, Azriel and Cassian, maybe things would’ve been different. She closed her eyes, fighting the emotion in her throat. I’m sorry Elain, Feyre, Rhysand, Azriel and Cassian, I’m so, so sorry, was the last thing in her head before she felt acute pain and succumbed to the dragging talons of oblivion.

taglist:

@im-someone-i-guess @shadowsinger07 @saltyfortunes @cressjacquine @julian-blackthorn-supremacy @champanheandluxxury @zemiraa @ladygabrielli1997 @nehemikkele

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years ago

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HASO “The Best Outcome.”

Just wrapping up a few loose ends from the past few months stories. I hope you all like it. And feel free to give me some ideas on what you want to see, or who you want to see more of. I will try to do my best :)

Breaking News tonight from the Apollo 11 memorial landing site as Admiral Adam Vr and Captains Warren Richarards and Mary Chavez were rescued from the Pacific Ocean following a journey that was supposed to be historical, turned harrowing. Amy Grey comes to us this morning with the story.

Thank you Julie, it was only a week ago here on the historic Cape Canaveral launch site, that the reconstructed Saturn V rocket was launched by the UNSC International Space and Aeronautics Division on the two thousand and fifty first anniversary of the original Apollo 11 mission. On board The reconstructed rocket were astronauts Fleet Admiral Adam Vir head of the UNSC deep space exploration division, Captain Warren Richards five year veteran and historical aeronautics expert, and Mary Chavez six year shuttle pilot veteran, and communications specialist.

The reconstructed Saturn V rocket took off thirty minutes behind schedule at 10:03 GMTJuly 16 after delays attributed to engineering standbys. However, reports by UNSC investigation early this morning indicate that the delays were called for by engineering head Jade Clein who noticed something strange during her final checks of the Saturn V recreated rocket. In an interview early today, flight director, Aaliyah Seif of the Apollo re-creation mission informed outlets that there was evidence of attempted tampering on the hull of the Saturn V rocket. The tampering case in the shape of these small silver tape strips covering loosened bolts along one of the Saturn V side panels. Engineers stated that the tape was not heat resistant and would have burned off in time to rattle the bolts loose and, likely, cause a devastating spin that would destroy the rocket.

While this attempted tampering was thwarted, the mission would only become more dire. A sudden and shocking report by Mericanda News 5 showed an uncut image of an unknown alien hybrid woman claiming that the UN President had ordered th attempted assassination of Admiral Vir, in conjuncton with an audio recording by Admiral Colter Massie, Head of the Galactic intelligence division an known isolationist, that admitted to the attempted assasination of Admiral Vir, and the acquisition of twenty thunderhawks which were used to harry the Satern V on it’s way to the moon. Admiral Kelly, long time friend of Admiral Vir, corroborated the story, saying she caught General Massie just after he ordered the deployment of the twenty thunderhawks. During their conversion he attempted to kill her before being detained by two members of Admiral Vir’s crew, and was later seen being escorted into custody by Military Police.

Indeed footage has been captured from the hull of the Saturn V showing approximately twenty thunderhawks attempting to destroy the rocket while Rundi remote piloted drones and an unknown group of what appear to be racing jets, fought back to delay the attack while word was sent to the UNSC to deploy F-90 darkfire pilots to assist. This all after communications between Houston and the rocket were sabotaged shortly after leaving orbit. The F-90 darkfire pilots were able to arrive on time to rescue the rocket, though a hole was reportedly torn in the hull sucking Admiral Vir out into space, though he was later recovered and returned to his ship without any injuries. Patch teams were then able to repair the torn hull and the astronauts completed their mission landing to crowds on the moon and returning to earth on time on time landing in the Pacific ocean only nine miles away from the waiting ship.

All three astronauts were recovered and are reported to be in good health.

The investigation into the UN president’s involvement is still ongoing at this time, however preliminary reports from the Global Bureau of Investigation suggest evidence is both staggering and damning to the current UN president, who earlier today, attempted to cut all ties to the sabotage efforts saying she was framed. Political experts report that, even assuming her innocence, she will likely not last to the end of her term.

International News Network was able to interview Admiral Vir shortly after his landing while still on board the rescuing ship UNSS Victory.

Here is what the Admiral had to say.

“I find it…. Really very disheartening that someone we all trusted, and someone that we all should have looked up to could do something like this. It really is a heinous demonstration of what political corruption can lead people to do.”

“And how do you feel, personally about all of this.”

“Personally, I…. well to be honest I am hurt and appalled. Not to mention that I fear for the safety of my family and my friends. Every day I wonder if my involvement with them is going to get someone I love killed…. The thought haunts me, but I hope after all of this is over I… and all of us can breathe a little easier.”

“Were you scared?”

“I don’t think that even needs to be a question. Of course I was scared, getting sucked out of your spaceship isn’t ideal.”

“What do you hope will happen now?”

“I hope that justice can be upheld to those who deserve it.”

“What do you have to say to the UN president.”

…

“I have nothing to say. Wouldn’t want to waste the air.

****

What followed would be one of the largest scandals in recent political history. At some point an unknown number of classified government documents was leaked onto the internet, and after that it was all over for the Presidency. Thousands of enterprising humans, and aliens alike, viewed the documents to discover all the underhanded and dirty things which had been going on in the UN governmental body over the past few years. Forensic accounting experts (mostly Tesrtaki) uncovered plenty of fiscal tampering which shed light on plenty of isolationist related projects and bank accounts. There was even evidence that they had something to do with the original assassination attempt against Admiral Vir so many months ago. The drama had even managed to capture the attention of Rundi political experts and Vrul computer science geniuses, and together they unearthed a world of unfathomable, but not unexpected corruption. The process to remove the UN president from office was probably one of the fastest movements of human government ever seen by UN congressional leaders, who were likely trying their very best tro distance themselves from association with the president, who despite not being the only one involved, had become the political scapegoat for everyone else that had a supposed link with isolationism.

Even the VP fell under suspicion and was watched closely for the rest of his term.

Admiral Massie and the UN President were placed under arrest and set up for court dates in the nearing future, though everyone saw a long and arduous litigation process ahead. Even Ramirez’s family had filed for damages against the government after the news came to light confirming that their son had been shot as collateral in one of the UN presidents plans to assassinate Admiral Vir. They settled out of court to the tune of an unknown, but impressive sum of money.

No one really knew how much, but a couple months later Ramirez’s younger sister was seen training at one of the most prestigious olympic academies on earth.

Ramirez himself was suddenly able to afford housing on the moon in a condo just next door to his best friend, though no one else inquired further.

The Rundi chairwoman came forward with her own investigation admitting to being suspicious for a long time though she feared accusations without proper proof. Admiral Vir was seen having lunch with her not so many months after the events took place, suggesting that the trust between the two of them had not been completely dissolved. With much of the isolationist element gone from government, public policy began to lean heavily towards integration with the alliance. The occasional isolationist demonstration or protest was held, but none of them managed to gain traction.

Admiral Vir was finding himself more important than ever, though it was to his chagrin that his ship was grounded for the intervening months while the investigation continued.

No one was entirely sure what the future held.

***

Admiral Vir stepped into Admiral Kelly’s office. The last time he had actually visited her here had been over a few years ago before his promotion to captain of the Harbinger. It seemed so distant now, and he never expected to walk into her office with a star on his shoulder. She stood as he entered, and the two of them shook hands, ignoring all the stuffy formalities that usually come with the meeting of two military officers.

The wall behind her was decorated with a myriad of metals and awards she had received over her career, and he couldn't help but note the slight tinge of grey he could see forming in her hair. He knew that feeling, he was going prematurely white much to his chagrin. She stood and the two of them shook hands.

“Vir.”

“Kelly.”

She motioned him to sit and he sat sighing lightly as he had been on his feet all day consulting with political figures and other members of the UNSC.

“A strange couple months wouldn’t you say.”

“Tell me about it.”{

Kelly reached under her desk and withdrew an amber bottle which she placed between them, “I always forget; Do you drink?”

“On occasion.”

“Well consider this an occasion.” She said popping off the top and pouring two glasses for them. She handed his across the desk and he leaned back in his seat cupping the cool glass in both hands.

She swirled the amber liquid around in her glass, “So what are your plans after all this.”

He took a sip of water warmed by the burning liquid, “Hoping things will go back to normal and I can go back to traveling the galaxy.”

Kelly grunted, “A simple man with simple motivations.”

He laughed , “Sometimes I think a stupid man with simple motivations.”

She chuckled then grew serious, “A lot of people make the mistake of assuming simple people don’[t have the intelligence to match. Some people assume that trusting means gullible means dumb. Just because we are trusting and expect others to do the right thing is not necessarily a fault. I believe there is a kind of beauty in assuming the fundamental goodness of humanity.”

\Admiral Vir shook his head, “How can you after seeing what we have seen.”

“How can you not?” She shrugged, “We always knew that politicians were corrupt, but think about everything else we have seen.”

Admiral Vir nodded slowly, “The enthusiasm for the Apollo 11 recreation mission, the people who flew up to help us. All of those people who went digging through years of information just to uncover the truth.”

SHe raised her glass, “Precisely. Goodness in humanity is all around us, but we tend to overlook the good in favor of the bad.” She placed her hat on the desk and sighed, “It is up to good people to keep their goodness going even when it might seem easier to give into the bad. I I have and will always believe in the fundamental good of humanity. Some may call it naeve, or even stupid. Others have said I have a romanticized view of a species that is fundamentally broken.” She turned her head to look out the window a contemplative expression on her face before turning back to look at Adam.

“You understand me, I think.”

He nodded slowly.

“People need to be believed in. You tell someone for long enough that they are fundamentally bad at their core and they will begin to believe you. For thousands of years pessimists have gotten it into our heads that we are no better than animals, worse even since animals don’t fight in wars. But I believe that is wrong, I have seen people, I have met people, and I have interacted with people who prove to me that humanity cannot just be fundamentally bad or else these people wouldn’t exist.” She tapped her nails against the glass, “I think it is easier to corrupt purity than wash away a stain,”

He listened quietly as she continued.

“Humans are born good, Adam, and life stains us. We aren’t born stained while some of us are wiped clean. “ She shook her head, “Doesn't make sense to me.” She caught him with a look pinning him to the spot with her intense stare, “People like you convince me of this every day.”

“Me….”

She held up a hand. “Adam Vir, I am convinced that the best outcome this universe ever had, was when a happy go lucky science fiction freak was lucky enough to be the first man to meet aliens. Any other way things would have gone horribly wrong.” She leaned across her desk, “The universe needs men and women like you, and not only that but the universe needs people who are going to support men and women like you.” She sat back, “Which is why I have made a decision.”

He raised an eyebrow in curiosity not entirely sure where this could be going.

She smiled, “I have decided to run for President.”

He nearly spit his mouthful of expensive scotch onto the table but managed to choke it mostly down.

Eyes wide he set his glass down, “Are you serious.”

She smiled, “Seriously serious.”

“Well shit, you have my vote for sure.” He raised his glass to her, “I couldn’t think of a better outcome.”

210 notes · View notes

daydreamindollie · 4 years ago

Text

⏤𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚

𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦-𝘶𝘱 𝘈𝘜.

𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪'𝘮 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘥.

𝘰𝘣𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘢𝘴 𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵. 𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭.

𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘳 ⏤ 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪 𝘢𝘮 𝘦𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦. 𝘪'𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘪'𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘢��𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘴𝘰 𝘪 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯. 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥: '𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳/𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤'.

✚ ✚ ✚

⏤𝙢 𝙖 𝙜 𝙞 𝙘

⇢ some people are born with an affinity for a type of magic while others are not.

⇢ when people are born with an affinity for magic, they are considered blessed. This is because only a god/goddess is able to give them the gift of having an affinity for magic at birth.

⇢ most people born with an affinity for magic are nobles whereas most commoners aren't blessed with any. However, some rare anomalies can still occur in both classes i.e commoners can be blessed with affinity whereas nobles cannot.

⇢ simply put : 0 to no affinity = mostly commoners ; relative affinity = most nobles ; high affinity = some nobles/some commoners

⇢ these anomalies cause uncertainty amongst nobles as their nobility is threatened; those that lack an affinity for magic struggle to stay nobles. Hence, some families that gradually decrease the amount of members with magic lose their noble titles.

⇢ there are three types of magic and each type is associated with a god/goddess :

spells + enchantments (Goddess Uries)

potions + alchemy (God Exdur)

elemental ⏤ fire, water, air, earth (God Zirteus)

⇢ the specific element a blessed person can specialize in is up to their level of affinity ⏤ the higher their affinity = more elements they can control ; low affinity = can only control one element

⇢ there are no light and dark elements can be controlled by people because those are reserved for the Goddess of the Day (Brethys) and the God of the Night (Utorr)

⇢ the higher the affinity an individual has, the longer they are able to maintain their youthful appearance. Even if they are old, they still look young. This doesn't increase their lifespan, however.

⏤𝙝 𝙮 𝙗 𝙧 𝙞 𝙙 𝙨

⇢ hybrids are discriminated against and are feared for their raw power

⇢ hybrids are born with a special type of magic allowing them the abilities and powers of animals - these abilities and powers are enhanced by the hybrids' own magic

⇢ the hybrid's magic is called 'contracts/bonding' magic, which is pretty self-explanatory

⇢ when a child is born, they are gifted with an affinity for contractual magic from the Goddess Enneas, and they are instantly contracted with a spirit animal

⇢ how it happens is that animal spirits tend to wander around pregnant women that they feel would give birth to a suitable vessel for their magic, as soon as they sense this compatibility, the instant the child is born, they are entered into a contract with them

⇢ in addition to this, the animal spirits bless their contracted newborn with their special power that has more variety than elemental powers e.g they can control electricity, ice or plants and even have telepathic powers

⇢ this amount of power is what scares people

⇢ there are some downsides/advantage to this type of magic, however, and it's that the individual is given the features of the specific animal they are contracted with

⇢ this is a grey area because the animalistic features can lead to their discrimination from others but the features increase their abilities

⇢ because hybrids have an affinity for magic, they are mostly born into noble families but due to the prejudice against hybrids, they are abandoned anonymously into hybrid orphanages

⏤𝙩 𝙝 𝙚 𝙙 𝙖 𝙢 𝙞 𝙖 𝙣 𝙞 𝙛 𝙖 𝙢 𝙞 𝙡 𝙮

⏤𝙢 𝙖 𝙜 𝙞 𝙘

⇢ the Damiani family have always remained nobles because they've never lost their magic affinity

⇢ therefore, they always look really young

⇢ everyone in this family always has a high affinity for all sorts of magic, not just one type - unlike most noble families who specialize in a specific type of magic

⏤𝙝 𝙮 𝙗 𝙧 𝙞 𝙙 𝙨

⇢ the family has had rare cases of one member having an affinity for contractual magic for hybrids

⇢ on the outside it doesn't look like this person doesn't have an affinity for magic at all but always has very good physical strength, great at combat/martial arts + swordsmanship

⇢ unlike other families, the Damiani family doesn't abandon their hybrid relatives and instead helps them disguise their animal features by enchanting them

⇢ even though it looks like they don't have magical powers, they are gifted with great physical strength and talents in combat

⇢ these Damiani family members always become the Commander of the Order of the Royal Knights

⇢ so that none of the family secrets is leaked out, their staff about the mansion is very little but they are all hybrids

⇢ again, on the outside, they look like normal non-magic humans because of the enchantment the family bestows upon them

⇢ i.e in exchange for their loyalty, service and protection, the damiani enchants them to hide their hybrid features, treats them like family and protects them

⇢ staff consist of : Butler ; Maids x4 ; Gardeners x4 ; Head Chef ; Cooks x3 ; Commander of Damiani Knights ; Knights x5 ; Doctor

⇢ in total, the Damiani Family has 20 members of staff

⇢ normally, with such a huge estate and mansion should have, at least 50 - 80 members of staff

⇢ the staff remain loyal because they are treated very fairly and are never belittled

⇢ once the staff join, they change their names and swear an oath (happily) to the family

⇢ all of them (not just the knights and commander) have undergone martial arts training as well as weapons training of they highest degree

⇢ this is to protect themselves as well as the Damiani family

⇢ the staff also help protect the large estate efficiently from spies and assassins - they don't make a sound taking down the spies/assassins but they are quickly disposed of and then the head of the family is made aware of the situation

⇢ they have a basement 'torture chamber' to get more info out of the spies/assassins that were sent, they get out as much information from them as possible before they are silenced for good

⇢ this information is usually about other noble families attempting to take them down or gather detrimental information about them, jealous of their power and close relationship with the royal family

⏤𝙘 𝙝 𝙖 𝙧 𝙖 𝙘 𝙩 𝙚 𝙧 𝙨

1st brother | Dominique Damiani | 23

• excels at spell casting + enchantments

• working to hone skills in order to be prepared to take over the Damiani house after parents retire

PERSONALITY/HOBBIES

• intelligent, calm cool + collected

• naturally a man of little words

• secretly really loves small fluffy animals becomes even more intimidating when in public

WITH READER/MC

• helps her with spell casting + enchantments

• always there to comfort her and be her shoulder to cry on - never says anything, only gives comforting pats on her hair and rubs on her back/shoulder

• is the one reader/mc always vents to

• reliable

• has a pet rabbit that he adores and lets the reader/mc take care of called 'Hopkins'

APPEARANCE

• height : 6 ft / 182 cm

• hair + eyes : black, well kept and sometimes swept back with steel, piercing grey eyes

• physique : tall + buff + broad-shouldered

• dress : cleanly dressed, can look good in plain dress pants and a white button-up shirt but can also look really good with all the embellishments i.e medals, fur-edged cape, sash, ties etc

2nd brother | Lyon Damiani | 22

• excellent at mixing potions

• great alchemist

PERSONALITY/HOBBIES

• brainiac + big nerd

• rambles about how fascinating alchemy is

• really good at threatening others + can pull a really creepy smile/scary face

• secretly very mischievous as he tends to deviate from the norm of potions mixing - tampers with the base recipes advised by the magic council

• works well with Myles discussing ingredients + composition of potions

• helps take care of the estate's greenhouse

WITH READER/MC

• partakes in very intellectual conversation with her about ingredients and their chemical compositions

• love to cause mischief together using potions to dye others' hair or turn plants pink - unfortunately most pranks are done on Myles

• love laughing and making memories together

• always wanting to impress reader/mc through his new potions/techniques in alchemy

• believes that the best way to learn is through having fun and making fun memories

APPEARANCE

• height : 5"10 / 177 cm (shortest)

• hair + eyes : light brown, quite messy but still beautifully frames his face + olive green eyes

• physique : slim and elegant

• dress : usually dressed casually and in comfortable clothing, prefering loose robes - greek style. Doesn't like the clean look in uniform and finds it uncomfortable when it's fully embellished but can definitely pull it off

3rd brother | Myles Damiani | 21

• excels at elemental magic - masters all elements

• has a medical degree

PERSONALITY/HOBBIES

• great at gardening - cares a lot for his 'babies' (his plants) in the greenhouse

• loves cracking jokes only he can understand

• works well with Lyon on ingredients from the greenhouse + mixing of new potions

• has sharp eyes and always looks like he's glaring, which makes people back away

• fascinated by weaponry and how he can use those in combat alongside his elemental powers

WITH READER/MC

• always the victim of reader's + Lyon's pranks but doesn't mind

• loves spoiling reader teaches her about all elements

• loves helping reader/mc with her elemental powers + teaches her some medical stuff too

• tends to baby her

• loves her, even more, when she laughs at his pretty lame jokes

APPEARANCE

• height : 5"11 / 180 cm

• hair + eyes : mossy light green hair, turquoise green eyes - icy and piercing

• physique : tall and toned type

• dress : likes to look clean and put together but doesn't like any additional embellishments on the clothes as he deems them unnecessary, especially when they get in the way of his elemental training

4th brother | Ambrico Damiani | 20

• is a hybrid

• people don't see his animal features because his Mum/brother, Dominique, enchant his extra limbs with invisibility for a limited time

• WHITE WOLF HYBRID

PERSONALITY/HOBBIES

• strong and doesn't let anyone belittle him for, supposedly, not having an affinity for magic

• fierce and ruthless with a sword

• has a lot of love to give and is a big softy for his family, especially reader/mc

• great at cooking great swordsman instead of mage

• very in touch with his emotions

• a strict and intimidating commander of the knight order

WITH READER/MC

• a second mum to reader

• loves cooking with her

• teaches her how to handle a sword and teaches her martial arts

• also teaches her a lot about being understanding of people's situations and illustrates to her the importance of kindness

• if you want any advice about emotions, you go to him

APPEARANCE

• height : 6 ft / 182 cm

• hair + eyes : platinum blonde hair that's pretty long and goes down to a little beyond his chin + sky blue eyes

• physique : definitely toned and muscular and tall but not as broad as the eldest

• dress : usually in his armor/knight uniform, he's mainly in that attire so whenever he gets the chance not be in uniform he's in really light clothing that still looks crisp, clean and very comfortable

mother | Othelia Damiani | 45

• specialises at potions and enchantments

• married at 18 and had her first child/son at 20

PERSONALITY/HOBBIES

• a great cook

• totally in love with her husband

• loves being a mother and wife, so much so that she even acts like a mother to the staff a very caring mother loves her children dearly

• encourages creativity and curiosity to foster intelligence and open-mindedness amongst her children

• loves to dance with her husband

WITH READER/MC

• always there to listen and never judge

• always has afternoon tea with her

• both take walks in the garden together to admire the flowers and admire the seasonal changes in the landscape always

• simps over her husband around reader because her sons always cringe when she does it around them

• teaches her a lot about business and how to run a noble house alongside the husband as well as on her own

APPEARANCE

• height : 5ft 5 / 168cm

• hair + eyes : deep ebony hair, very long with subtle waves + warm chocolate brown eyes

• physique : slim with subtle curves ; an elegant physique ; extremely beautiful

• dress : usually seen in long dresses that fall off her figure but she changes it up with different neckline cuts, shawls, layers, jewelry/embellishments, colors/patterns, and accessories.

father | Faques Damiani | 46

• great Elementalist

PERSONALITY/HOBBIES

• always proud of everything his children do

• doesn't like exercising but he is always being dragged into training with the knights on the estate so he has a lot of physical strength

• adores his wife and would do anything for her

• a great dancer because his wife loves dancing

WITH READER/MC

• loves to spoil her

• usually it's him that has to approach reader so he secretly loves it a lot when she approaches him first

• usually very stoic but has a very soft spot for his children and wife

• can be very understanding and patient despite his intimidating looks and glares

• the typical stoic dad type that values respect and honesty above anything else

• instills respect and honesty in his children

APPEARANCE

• height : 6ft 3 / 190cm

• hair + eyes : bluish with a green tint hair + ocean green eyes

• physique : broad shoulders and slim waist, has muscle but not too much

• dress : when working, is always in uniform with well-kept hair but outside of that is usually in a white button-up shirt, abandons all accessories such as the gloves, unbuttons the top few buttons and with dress pants and more comfortable shoes

grandfather | Venerandus Damiani | 66

• specializes in potions and alchemy

PERSONALITY/HABITS

• the most relaxed man

• smells of tobacco, fine wine, and peppermint

• seemingly always takes the children's side in arguments

• in front of the children, he is the fun and jovial grandfather away from the children, he is serious and wise

• his belated wife was a hybrid

WITH READER/MC

• loves telling her stories of the 'olden days'

• supports her in her, somewhat, dangerous experiments with her magic - as long as he supervises her

• loves talking about his belated wife to the reader because she never got the chance to reach the age of being able to vividly remember things

• teaches her about his favorite potions

• his lab is her lab

• they maintain the greenhouse together with her second + third brother (Lyon + Myles)

APPEARANCE

• height : 6ft 3 / 190cm

• hair + eyes : clean, well-kept silver hair + grass green eyes with golden flecks

• physique : broad shoulders, broad and muscly man

• dress : usually in a white button-up shirt, dress pants, and comfortable shoes, however, can pull off sweaters/turtle-necks underneath a blazer or coat with the usual pants, belt, and shoes. Likes wearing gloves and occasionally puts on his monocle

✚ ✚ ✚

happier cafe

small town of Raoluire(?)

city reader/mc grew up in(?)

damiani family mansion/estate(?)

✚ ✚ ✚

𝘪'𝘮 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘪 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘭 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘦𝘵. 𝘪 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴/𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘴... 𝙢𝙮 𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩 : dollieremi

#poly bts hybrid x reader #bts poly x reader #bts x reader #bts fantasy au #bts ot7 x reader #bts hybrid fanfic #cafe owner reader #magic au

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iwants0up · 5 years ago

Text

Wonder

Words: 3.9 k

Genre: Fantasy

Walking through the broken halls and crumbling walls of an old mansion, a young child marveled at the worn stone and splintered wood floors. There was so much beauty to be found to these innocent eyes that only saw what it could have been and dreamed of what happened to make such a place desolate and cold. It seemed, to the youngster, that a monster must have attacked,or an army, or both! Ah, how the soldiers of this fine place must have fought with honor! How steel must have hit steel! So magnificent, the battle was in their small mind, so glorious.

The child kept walking, stepping carefully around rubble and climbing over piles of broken away stone. The ceiling collapsed a long time ago in most places and the sun shone down on them, making them hot and sweaty as they picked their way through. They tripped at one point and righted themselves with a huff, brushing off their now grimy shorts.

They then noticed something, a door that they previously would not have noticed if they hadn’t come to a stop. It was as grey as the surrounding rock and it looked to be water damaged, likely from the heavy rainstorms that often fell upon this area. They wandered closer, examining it as only a curious child would. Now, to give some insight, this child is no mere child. No small amount of understanding resides in this descendant of some far off mother and father. And this is mostly due to the peculiar nature of said mother and father and their less than normal outlook on the world and the people living within. You see, they are a pair of both genius and curse, and their child is a mixture of the two. A mixture that history and the ages have wished to have back.

A small hand pressed gently but firmly again the haggard wood, pushing oh so slightly as if to test how much pressure it can take. The doorknob was covered in cobwebs and a small spider sat watching the child curiously. Having been born in the magic of this place, the spider, as insignificant as it was, still understood the importance of this moment and watched calmly as a hand clasped the doorknob, never mind the webs or the spider, and twisted.

The door swung open to reveal a cavernous room, empty at first glance until you observe the small stacks of books lining the walls, black with grime and mostly eaten through by termites. The young one entered the room cautiously, taking in the room before exploring. They ran about, dusting off books and opening them, eyes scanning the words scrawled across ruined paper, or the words that weren’t eaten through, before putting the book down and moving onto the next one.

They made their way around the room, reading and taking in these small fragments of information and story. In all this, the child failed to notice a small wooden box laying near a particularly large stack of books until they came right to it.

They let out a small gasp of surprise and glee as they leaned down to pick up the box. Small fingers pried the lid of the box and reached inside to pull out an undamaged book. It wasn’t like the others, however, and was much, much smaller. It’s cover was fine leather, dull with the years but just as beautiful with its dark green color and the silver of its title and the decorative patterns bringing life and intrigue to the old object. The title, spelled out in intricate cursive, was ‘Wonder’ and the child breathed the word out loud with reverence. They sat on the floor, setting the box to the side and gently opened the book with barely contained excitement.

Curse and genius, who would have thought that this would make a child of such curious and wanting temper. Blue eyes widened as they read, chapped lips mouthing the words carefully, imagination running wild within them. They quickly became oblivious to world around them as they read, and didn't stir for some time as the words and their meaning washed over them. It felt like they were brimming, overflowing with the well-crafted story they held in one hand.

It was a tale of a girl, young and magical. A wild child who was eager to learn and had no tolerance for doting behavior. As she grew she learned of the significance of her magic and how to control it. But as time went on, simply controlling it was not enough, she wanted to master it. Or, in the case of her magic which often seemed as if it had a mind of its own, be the master of it. And so she set out from the comfortable home she shared with her aging father and mother, and searched for a being of magic she had heard of in her village, a powerful being, a demigod. She followed the rumors to a house made of stone, so vast and beautiful some even considered it a castle. It was said that the demigod lived in this house, using their magic to fill the land with light and fortune, and rains when needed for the crops. They were praised like a god in the streets, and said to be of such extraordinary beauty that men and women fell in love with them upon first sight. Though the stories varied when it came to the demigod’s gender.

Our main character went to the house, walking up the rolling green hills and the small set of stone steps to the large oaken doors and knocked. The sound was surprisingly loud, and she jumped when she heard it. The response was just as surprising in that it was instant. The doors slammed open and a gorgeous woman in a long gown with raven hair in flowing braids and flowers weaved through it, striking green eyes that were filled with mirth, and skin pale like cream stood majestically, looking down at the girl who had traveled far to her doorstep. “Well, hello!” The demigod had said, smiling sweetly, “What can I do for you?”

And there the story ended; the child’s mouth fell open. “What?!” They cried, hoping this was some kind of joke. They saw that there were more pages, but all were blank. At this moment they looked up and saw a beautiful woman, hair flowing and white, eyes a searching green, skin pale like cream. But she was almost translucent, and the child could just make out some of the stacks of books through her body. But they knew who she was and stood so that they may bow low out of respect. “Demigod,” they whispered.

“Yes, young one, I am the one in that old tale, or what was written of it. But please, do not bow, I am no longer a god that should be revered.” She smiled a sweet smile, “As you can see I’m not all here.”

They straightened up, looking into the eyes described to be so happy and lovely in the book, now sad and yearning. “Why was the story not complete?” They asked softly, looking down at the book that they still held firmly in one hand. “And who wrote it?”

“Alfreda was the author, and it was not complete because she fell ill; she died within two weeks time. There was nothing I could do to save her.”

“Alfreda? You mean the girl who visited you?”

“Yes, sweet one, the girl who visited me, the girl who stole my heart.” Here the demigod paused, head turning up to gaze at the ceiling, which was not caved in like the roof of most other places in the building. “And the girl who broke it.”

“Why did you not finish it then?” The child wondered, looking back down at the book. “You could have told the tale she wished to tell.”

“But I could not have, you see, I am cursed.”

“Cursed?”

“Yes. By the gods I was forbidden to read or write, as punishment for my father’s wicked use of knowledge. But,” she sighed, “what’s done is done. All I could do after she passed was send it to a printer and pay to have him make the finest book out of it. I even asked that he add many blank pages, to signify what was lost. I then placed it in the box where you found it and put it in here... her reading room. It used to have two armchairs, a table and a rug where we would sit and she would read aloud the books she bought when she went into the village and recite poems she memorized over the years. We spent many a night in here... my only regret is that we didn’t spend many more.”

“What happened... to you, to this place?”

The demigod shook her head. “I was stripped of those memories long ago. They are locked away.”

“I don’t understand.”

She began to walk a slow circle around the center of the room, eyes still trained upwards. “I removed them, for one reason or another, and placed them in a prison of my own making. Not to be tampered with until...” here she lowered her gaze and looked the child over, “until someone worthy unlocks them.”

Her faded green eyes looked tired and the child felt pity bloom in their chest for the aged demigod. “How will someone be deemed worthy?”

“By how they read the story.”

“What?” They held up Alfreda’s book. “This one?”

“Yes, that one.” She took a step closer, slender finger pointing to the forest green item.

“How is it supposed to be read?”

“With the ending in mind. That’s what she told me, at least, when she was writing it. I had asked what her purpose was in writing it and how she wanted the buyers of her book to read it. I only meant if she wanted it to be spread in groups,or read as a family, or poured over in solitude but she looked at me, and said with the voice of an angel, ‘I want it to be read as if the ending is clear. I want them to read it, and keep that ending in mind. I want them to live it as I did but one step ahead.’ And I loved her all the more for it.” The demigod did not cry, but her sorrow was clear and the pain was etched into the soft features of her face. “But I did not love her enough...” her voice broke and cracked like glass, “or she would not have been taken from me.”

Silence filled the room, thick as it set over the two of them. “I’m sorry,” the young one whispered, voice quavering.

“Do not be sorry, sweet one. You have given me a great gift; the gift of company.” After a long pause, she sighed and sat on the ground. “Tell me, how did you read it?”

They walked over and sat a foot or two away from the demigod. “I don’t know how to describe it,” they admitted. “But I could see it, every moment in my mind, and I sort of... hoped for the ending that seemed clear. Kinda like you said, or what she said, I felt as if I were living it and as if I knew something that I couldn’t possibly know yet. Like I knew what was going to happen before it did.”

Realization dawned across her pale face. “No... it can’t be you, can it? You are so young but then again I can sense the magic on you, a magic not of personal power but of lineage. The blood in your veins is historic.” Nothing else was said as the demigod pondered, combing through her vast knowledge and thinking on the muddled past of those lands, reaching as far back as she could in order to retreive some small sliver of information that eluded her. She could almost hear it, something Alfreda told her about the past that held no urgency to remember at the time but is now near imperitive to know. Another child at another time, just as quick to venturing as the kid sitting across from her.

The child didn’t mind the demigod’s mental absence as they went into their thoughts as well. Something deep in their mind was calling to them, pulling them back in time to a moment. It was so vague, blurry and nondescript. But there was something there, a particular second, maybe. Or maybe it was the feeling in the moment that was drawing them in. Not an emotion, but a feeling, an instinct.

When the demigod roused, they were no closer too discovering what it was that was trying to get their attention. They watched curiously as she silently beckoned them to follow her out of the room, obeying with that familiar sense of curiousity getting the better of them.

The rubble moved to the side to get out of the path of the demigod and she led the way through the halls, down several flights of stairs to a circular room with a high ceiling and intricate carvings in the stone floor. “I remembered,” the demigod said as they stood in the center of the room, “why the magic in your veins is so important.”

She went to the wall where a work bench sat, covered in dust and bottles filled with thick liquids you couldn’t tell the color of through the dust. “It is so important because it isn’t natural.” She picked two out after cleaning out a bowl that had also been sitting there and poured sparing amounts of each into the bowl. “You see, long ago, there were four families, all working together with witches to develop a special spell.” She twirled the bowl to gently combine the two ingredients. “A spell that would create a witch without magical blood running through their parents’ veins.” She seemed satisfyed with the mixture and turned so that she was facing the child. “But not just any witch. It would be a witch so powerful, they would be a unstoppable. Multiple of them, even. And they would all be linked by their magic.”

“And they did it,” her eyes seemed to glaze over as she once again thought back. “The four families split into pairs and those pairs would marry their oldest son and daughter with the spell preformed on them, potentially making a pair so powerful they could burn the whole world with the snap of their fingers. They managed to get the children born as planned, unnatural witches. The first pair’s children grew up with the knowledge that their marriage was guaranteed and also grew to love one another. The second raised them with the same knowledge, and the girl quickly fell in love with the boy, adoring him with all her heart, but the boy did not share her affections. His heart belonged to another and before their wedding, he ran to go be with them. The girl was so full of jealousy and greif that she called upon the magic at her fingertips and placed a curse on the boy and whatever children he may have. No one knows what the curse was, but it was said to be something so terrible the boy must have killed himself just to end his line so that no more will have to suffer. Except he didn’t. He went on to have children just as the girl married another and recieved the blessing of genius from the first pair and had children of her own. The families deemed her half witch child to not be suitable to marry the pure witch child of the other pair and so genuis and curse grew.” Her eyes lost the glazed look within them and they became sharp with self awareness. She locked eyes with the child before her. Her voice took on a note of awe. “They somehow managed to avoid each other for centuries... until your mother and father.”

“So I’m a witch?”

“Yes, the magic is buried deep within you, but yes.”

The child cocked their head to the side as they thought. “But what does this have to do with Alfreda and her book?”

“Alfreda was the descendant of the first pair. She always told me she would publish the book to find the one person who would ‘read it as it should be read’. She said that only a descendant of genuis and curse would be able to do so.”

“Why?”

The demigod sighed, “She never told me.”

“...So what am I supposed to do?”

“Unlock the memory of what happened to my home so that I may finally have peace. You are the only one that can.”

The child nodded solemnly. “What do I need to do?”

The demigod grabbed the bowl and took over to the child, holding it out for them to take. “Drink this. It will help reconnect you with your magic. Once you have your magic, concentrate on the runes on the stone floor, they will guide you in what to do next.”

They drank the mixture, handing the bowl back over to the demigod who nodded and stepped back. It felt like fire at first, then ice. Their whole body tingled with the sensation and they gasped as it almost became all-consuming. They could feel the pull back to that distant feeling once more and let themselves be swept back to that moment, sitting in their father’s lap and staring out the window at a what looked to be a figure standing on the edge of the woods. They felt drawn to the figure and had the urge to just run out to them. The feeling told them the figure was safe, was home. But they didn’t run out and the child watched as the figure walked away, taking with it that feeling of safety. And then they realized, that had been a dream. It hadn’t been real. But now the figure is very much real. The child looked in front of them and saw the figure all over again, but this time its hand was outstretched for the child to take. They took it.

Instantly they felt as if the were being pulled into another land, jerked forth through time and space. They looked about them and saw that they were in the same room but now everything was tinted a royal blue hue. And it looked different, cleaner, newer. No cobwebs in the corners or small piles of rubble. They went back up the stairs and through the hallways, getting lost in the maze that was the mansion. Everything was perfect, clean, beautiful. They heard the sound of a voice and followed it, tracking the noise to a room brightly lit by the sunlight streaming in through the open window.

A woman was laying in the bed at the center of the room, blonde hair spread across the pillow where she lay and blue/green eyes trained on the other occupant of the room, the demigod, who was pacing worriedly. But she was noticible younger, there were only a few grey streaks in her lovely raven hair and her face was full of love and kindness, if a bit pinched with worry. “Brea,” Alfreda sighed lovingly, “please calm down. I hate seeing you so strung up.”

The demigod, Brea, paused, turning to look at Alfreda with an apologetic look in her eyes. She hurried over to the blonde’s side and took one hand into her’s. “I’m sorry, baby, I just feel so useless.”

“I know, but it’s okay.” They held each other’s gaze and didn’t look away, at least not before the child watched the scene fade out and change into something else before their very eyes. Now the window was closed and the curtains were drawn and only a small candle brought light to the room. Alfreda still laid in the bed, but this time Brea was in the bed with her, holding the shaking woman to her chest.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, my love. It’s just the fever, it will pass. You’re going to be okay.” The raven-haired demigod whispered into the darkness, her voice full of resolution and caring. “You’re going to be okay. I love you.”

The scene faded again and now the blonde was throwing up, her upper body hanging over the side of the bed, Brea holding her hair back as she comforts her. “It’s okay, baby. You’re going to be fine. You’re going to be fine. I’m here, I’m here, it’s okay. You’re going to be fine.” She sounded pleading, scared, but still so resolute. As far as Brea was concerned, Alfreda was going to live. She had too, right?

The scene changed, showcasing a sleeping Alfreda and Brea sitting in a chair by the bed, head in hands. “Please,” they heard her whisper. “Whatever Gods are out there, please!” Her voice broke with a sob. “I love her. Don’t take her away from me.”

Once more, it changed. It was only Brea now and she lay curled up on the bed in a fetal position, hugging the pillow that was once Alfreda’s and sobbing into it. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t have the strength too. She was too broken. Crying out to the heavens for an explanation wouldn’t fix anything.

And suddenly they knew, it was clear as day. There was no battle, no fight for glory or honor, there was just this. A broken woman who lost the love of her life and removed her memories in an attempt to keep going. Removed the knowledge of the weeks, months even that she spent crying in that bed. Removed the memory of just how much it hurt to lose someone who you loved with every ounce of your being. They didn’t need to see the rest, to watch as Brea cast a spell to take those memories and lock them away, but they still did. Curse and genius watched with sorrow as Brea did the only thing she knew to do.

But then they saw her, Alfreda, standing white as snow, her face loving and sad. “My love,” she whispered. “I wish you could see how strong you are, how beautiful, what a wonder you are. I wish you knew how much I love you.” She looked at the child and shook her head, “You cannot give these to her.”

“Why?”

“There’s just not time.”

................

Almonzo awoke with a start in his bedroom, tears pricking at his eyes. He wiped them away harshly, throwing himself out of bed to run to his desk. He pulled out a pen and a notebook and turned to a blank page. At the top he wrote ‘New Book Idea: Wonder’.

#writing #wonder #lesbians #fantasy #my writing #lgbtq #dreams #loss of loved one #love

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moonysfrexckles · 6 years ago

Text

Can You Forgive Me? - The Trial of Draco Malfoy

from this Dramione fanfiction

Hermione had never been to a Wizarding trial. Though she had read all of the reports Harry and Ron had managed to get their hands on, sitting there in the stands, she realised that none of it could have prepared her.

The room was more of an atrium itself, with high, arching marble grey ceilings, held up by towering columns. The seating curved from one side of the room, dark grey benches stretching up in levels, open to the public. Hermione noticed a shimmer, like a curtain of magic, and realised there was a Shielding charm separating the stands from the floor. Opposite were the rows of the Wizengamot. There must have been about fifty of them in total, split into two halves, all in the same crimson robes and square hats, faces sharp and distant, raised from the floor. There was a box off to the side. A single chair sat in the centre of the room.

Draco shifted on it.

The two Aurors, one of them Ron, pointed their wands at him. Hermione frowned, sitting up straighter and craning her neck so she could see more clearly. The strand of magic was gold and translucent, encircling Draco’s wrists, tying him to the chair. Another two glowing ropes slid round his ankles, turning the existing band green, then gold.

They left him then, alone, to face his future, his past of unatoned sins. Hermione wanted to be there next to him, just so she could remind him that he would never be alone, not really, that she was rooting for him, that it would all be okay, no matter the outcome.

A few minutes later, Ron sidled onto the bench beside her. Hermione whirled on him.

“You tied him up?” she hissed.

Ron’s eyes widened, and then he stared at her, and Hermione didn’t like the pity in his eyes, so she looked away quickly. He took her hand, his fingers rough, the sleeve of his Auror robe coarse and thick. She squeezed his hand tightly. He returned the gesture. “He’s going to be fine,” he murmured.

Hermione chewed on her lip.

“It’s busy,” continued Ron, turning round to stare at the stands. He frowned. “Looks like half the Ministry have turned up.”

She didn’t dare look, keeping her eyes firmly on the blond halo of hair in the centre of the floor. “Of course they have. He’s a Malfoy. They’re here to see him fall.”

“Shacklebolt’s here too.”

Hermione glanced behind her, and realised that the Minister for Magic was sitting in the very back corner of the room, next to Professor McGonagall. Kingsley caught her staring and dropped his head in a nod. She nodded back. Hermione couldn’t help but scan the faces of the other people who had come to watch: some, it was clear, were Ministry workers, attending to keep updated with the Death Eater Trials; others, were staring at Draco with hardened faces, cruel eyes, like a villager wielding a pitchfork at a witch burning; there were very few who looked nervous, who shifted in their seats, eyes flicking around the room. Vaguely, Hermione wondered if Draco’s mother was there, hidden in some shadow like the Minister.

A sudden hush fell across the atrium.

Ottaline Warbeck stood from her position amongst the Wizengamot. She cleared her throat and her voice, magnified, rang around the room.

“All present for the trail of Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, for his crimes against Wizarding Britain and the Ministry of Magic.”

A magical quill, not unlike the one that blasted Rita Skeeter used to carry around constantly, floated in the seat beside her, scribing the event.

The Chief Warlock continued, reading from a script in front of her, eyes now fixed on Draco, “Mr Malfoy, you are on trial for the illegal use of the Imperius Curse against one Madam Rosmerta; the attempted murders of Mr Ronald Weasley, Miss Katie Bell and Albus Dumbledore; and acting as accomplice in aiding and abetting known fugitives and Death Eaters gain access to Hogwarts School. How do you plead for the use of an Unforgivable Curse?”

Draco’s voice cracked. “Guilty.”

There was silence, apart from the scratching of the quill. Ottaline Warbeck straightened her papers, her eyes briefly looking down, then refocusing on him. “How do you plead for the attempted murders of Mr Ronald Weasley, Miss Katie Bell and Albus Dumbledore?”

He inhaled deeply. “Guilty.”

“How do you plead for the aiding and abetting Death Eaters in their attack on Hogwarts School?”

It was little more than a whisper. “Guilty.”

“In which case,” the Chief Warlock announced. “Under normal circumstances, a guilty plea would get the accused an automatic reduced sentence. However, this trial has been brought forward in light of new evidence and witnesses and the Wizengamot will take the plea into consideration, as well as the aforementioned evidence and witness testimonies. We will begin with the first witness, Madam Rosmerta.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and she shot to look at Ron. He caught her eye and shook his head almost imperceptibly, ducking close so he could whisper in her ear. “She found our notes when she was cleaning our room. Said she wanted to help. Was pretty adamant about it too.”

The barmaid was led to the box by Aurors, and Hermione almost didn’t recognise her. She wasn’t wearing her usual face full of makeup. Her curls were flat, her hair bland, her cheeks pale. She looked to be shaking slightly as she shifted in the stand.

“Madam Rosmerta,” said Ottaline Warbeck kindly. “You are here on your request to testify in the trial of Draco Malfoy. Do you have any recollection of the accused using the Imperius Curse against you?”

Madam Rosmerta fiddled with the rings on her fingers, leaning forward in the stand. “Yes,” she said, then cleared her throat when her voice echoed. “Some.”

“What do you remember?” the Chief Warlock asked. “Try not to leave any details out but only voice those you are certain of.”

Rosmerta nodded anxiously. She’d never looked older, the lines of her face deep and worried. “I- I remember the day Mr Malfoy first… used the spell. We’d run out of Butterbeer and I’d gone into the back to restock the bar. It was busy, a Sunday. I heard someone crying… I called out but nobody answered, so I followed the sound and found Mr Malfoy.

“He was behind a barrel, crying- no, sobbing. I’d- I hadn’t ever heard anything like it. My heart broke for the boy, it did. I started forward and I-I asked him if he was alright and if I could do anything. I think I startled him- he looked like a deer in headlights and then… the next thing I remember is seeing the- well, His mark above the school and feeling like I’d just woken up.”

Rosmerta stopped twisting her rings and finally looked at Draco. There were threads of grey in her hair and sorrow in her eyes. She looked just as quickly away, at Ottaline Warbeck instead.

She said quietly, “I don’t want you to punish him. I know it’s not what you expected and that an Unforgivable should be- well… but I can’t rest easy at night knowing that a boy would rot in Azkaban if I didn’t help him.” Rosmerta sat up straighter, spoke more clearly and adamantly. “He never hurt me. He could’ve done a number of things to me! And he did nothing! He’s hardly a Death Eater and he’s not a criminal-”

“Thank you, Madam Rosmerta,” an older man on the Wizengamot interrupted her and she fell silent, shrinking back into the stand.

Ottaline Warbeck stared evenly at the man. She then looked at Madam Rosmerta and offered her a small smile. “We are striving to take victims’ opinions and testimonies into utmost consideration in our verdicts. Justice is for the victims-”

“Oh but I don’t want justice!” Rosmerta said in her high voice. “I offered to speak because I wanted to help Mr Malfoy, not condemn him-!”

“Thank you for your time. Your testimony will be valued.”

Rosmerta sat there in the stand, frozen to the spot, clearly recognising the dismissal for what it was. She cast a frantic glance over the stands and Hermione realised she was looking for Ron. Her lips trembled, mouth open, before she snapped it shut and nodded, following the official who led her out of the atrium.

The Chief Warlock flicked through her papers. “I would like to remind the Wizengamot not to interfere or interrupt with witness testimonies so as to not hinder the trial proceedings. If you have a question to ask the witness, refrain from doing so until the witness has finished speaking.”

Hermione’s eyes flitted to the man who had interrupted Rosmerta and felt a vindictive glee at the shade of plum he was turning, and an even sharper burn of approval for Ottaline Warbeck.

“The next witness is based on a memory submitted. Before the Wizengamot watched the memory, a team of Unspeakables tested it for any tampering. The memory was proved pure. Could the second witness be brought to the stand.”

Harry appeared then. His hair had fallen loose of its low bun, falling in his eyes, but he had scraped it back enough that his scar was clearly visible. It stood out, stark against the white of his skin. The audience broke into a murmur, each whispering about the Boy Who Lived. Hermione very nearly rolled her eyes but she couldn’t deny her gratitude to him; they needed him to milk his fame for all it was worth. He was wearing his dark grey Auror robs.

“Mr Harry Potter,” said Ottaline Warbeck. Her eyes never once moved from his face. “The Wizengamot thank you for your memory. If you don’t mind, we’d like to ask you a few questions about what happened the night of Albus Dumbledore’s murder.”

Harry’s throat bobbed. “Of course.”

The Chief Warlock nodded, and motioned for the woman on her left to begin. “Where had you been prior to the Astronomy Tower, Mr Potter?”

Harry pushed his glasses up his nose. “Dumbledore had taken me to a cave. I couldn’t tell you where it was- he Apparated us there and back.” He took a deep breath and Hermione realised quite painfully how hard it must be for him to have to relive that night. “Dumbledore had just told me about Voldemort’s Horcruxes.” The sound of the name elicited a sharp reaction, but Harry continued as though it fell deaf on his ears. “For those of you who don’t know what Horcruxes are, they’re the reason Voldemort came back. You see, from a very young age, Tom Riddle was obsessed with immortality. He found that storing a piece of your soul inside of an object came the closest to ensuring you couldn’t be killed. There was only one way to split a soul: murder. Tom didn’t just create one, no, that would be far too easy for him… he created seven. Unintentionally, eight.

“I’d already destroyed one without realising it, in my Second Year. And Dumbledore told me he thought he’d found another, but he couldn’t get to it alone. So we went to the cave and we retrieved the Horcrux- or what we believed to be the Horcrux. I’ll spare you the details,” he flashed a strained smile. “If you don’t mind. I still have nightmares about it sometimes… The process of getting the locket- that’s what it was- was hard. Blood magic, inferi, poison. Dumbledore drank the poison. That’s why he’s so weak he’s barely standing in my memory.”

The woman nodded slowly, watching him over her glasses. “Why did Albus Dumbledore call for Severus Snape if the man was to kill him?”

Harry took a moment to ponder the question, eyes thoughtful, eyebrows furrowed slightly. Then he sighed, and said, “I’ll have to tell you the whole story. I’ll try keep it as brief as I can. Dumbledore was dying.”

The audience broke out yet again into a crescendo of whispers. Ottaline Warbeck demanded silence before tilting her head, regarding Harry carefully. “What do you mean?”

“Dumbledore had found another Horcrux in the summer. It must have been then because I saw him in August and his hand was shrivelled and black. When he’d tried destroying it, it had cursed him. He shouldn’t have lasted the year, really, but Snape had been making him some potion that delayed it-”

“Severus Snape was a known Death Eater,” said the man who had interrupted earlier loudly. “How can you be sure he wasn’t poisoning Dumbledore in case the Malfoy boy didn’t succeed?”

Harry stared at him, then he shook his head vigorously. “Snape was never Voldemort’s. He was Dumbledore’s man. He was a double agent and Dumbledore made sure Snape gave Voldemort enough information to keep him valuable.” He stopped and took a quick, sharp breath. “I know you saw Snape killing Dumbledore in my memory, but it’s not the whole story. Dumbledore knew right from the start that Malfoy had been tasked with killing him. He also knew Voldemort didn’t expect him to succeed- it was just punishment for the sins of the father. Lucius had failed him. And he was going to take his only son and heir as punishment.

“Dumbledore knew that Voldemort wanted the Elder Wand. Yeah, it’s real, and Dumbledore had it. He’d won it off Grindelwald. Voldemort’s plan was for Malfoy to do his dirty work, killing his only real opposition, and then he’d kill Malfoy for the Wand.”

Harry looked at Draco then. Hermione had almost forgotten he was there; despite having heard the story before, and having helped him plan what information he was going to give the Wizengamot, the intricacies of the war both horrified and amazed her, especially when he told it as though he was reliving it still. She wasn’t even sure whether Draco had known that, for he had gone a deathly shade of white, and his fingers were shaking violently in his lap.

“So Dumbledore made Snape promise that he’d be the one to kill him. In the end,” finished Harry quietly. “Snape sacrificed his life for Malfoy. Dumbledore might have been already dying but he physically died to save Malfoy. You can see from my memory he’s not willing, he was just scared. Dumbledore saw that. Dumbledore always saw the truth in people… Even if he kept it to himself.”

The tinge of bitterness didn’t go unnoticed, and her breath left her lips as a ragged sigh. Ron heard the way it caught in her throat, and pulled her hand onto his knee so he could hold it more tightly.

“Then why did the Malfoy boy not ask Dumbledore for help beforehand?” the older gentlemen continued irritably.

Harry’s face twisted in incredulity. “Did you not listen to Dumbledore in my memory? Voldemort was a Leglimens! He’d have murdered Malfoy at the first suspicion Dumbledore had cottoned onto his plan! It might be difficult for you politicians to understand but there was a bigger, more intricate game at play outside of your Ministry bubble, where it was life or death! Where one foot wrong could kill everyone you loved. It was never as simple as asking for help. There was no help! There was nothing because nobody in the Ministry with the power to do a goddamn thing did anything!”

“Mr Potter,” Ottaline Warbeck’s voice was a calm stone sinking to the bottom of Harry’s ire.

Harry’s breath was long and heavy. He stretched his neck. “I’m sorry. It’s just-”

He paused. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the stand, interlocking his fingers. Pushing his glasses further up his nose, a nervous tick, Hermione noted, he began to speak, “I was never close to Malfoy at school.” Hermione’s breath stopped in her throat. Her grip on Ron’s hand tightened, knuckles turning white, nails leaving crescent scars in his skin.

“He’s going off script,” she whispered. Ron squeezed her hand back but said nothing.

“We were always against one another; in the House Cup, in Quidditch, in lesson, and then we were fighting against one another in a war. It didn’t make sense to me. It never did, how we could go from a rivalry on the Quidditch Pitch to war. I never wanted him dead. I wanted to beat him at Quidditch but that was it. We were just kids, we were never meant to be in a war...

“I always thought it was unfair, what I was burdened with. This,” Harry motioned his scar, pushing his hair out of the way so the jury and audience could see it. “I thought it was unfair that I was the only kid in the world who never had a choice. It was prophesied and how could I argue with that? How could I tell people that I wasn’t the Chosen One, that I was just Harry and I was scared? I never noticed at the time because I was too worried with my own life, my own lack of a choice, but Mal- Draco never had a choice either. He was born into a world he didn’t understand, not fully. He was fed a prejudice like most of you here. He was trained for slaughter, to be a loyal servant to something bigger than a 16 year old kid. He wasn’t given a choice for that.

“There was one choice he made, in that war. Hermione, Ron and I had gotten complacent whilst on the run- we got ourselves caught and taken to Malfoy Manor…” Hermione closed her eyes so the room wouldn’t sway. “Bellatrix Lestrange thought it might be us. She wanted to summon Him. But Draco bought us some time. He lied, said he didn’t recognise us, that he couldn’t be sure. We’re only alive because he did that. I owe my life to him.”

Harry looked at each member of the Wizengamot in turn. “The only crime you can find Draco Malfoy guilty of is doing what he had to to survive and even then, he didn’t kill anyone. It was kill or be killed and he still survived the war, able to say he’s not a killer. How many of you can say that? I can’t. Your Chosen One can’t.”

It was so silent, Hermione swore she could hear every breath rattle in her chest. She looked at Draco, seeing the straightness of his spine, the desperation with which his eyes clung to Harry, as though he needed to hear him to believe it.

It’s true! she wanted to tell him. All of it. You’re not a killer, not like me. You’ve never had blood on your hands. You’ve never killed. There were so many deaths but you did not cause a single one of them. Your only crime is that you weren’t one of them.

“I know what you all think of me,” said Harry tiredly. It was deathly silent, so silent Hermione swore she could hear everyone holding their breath. “But the truth is I’m not courageous. I’m just trying to do right. So is Draco. And sometimes, that takes all the courage in the world. I might never have been able to see eye-to-eye with him at school but Draco Malfoy is one of the most courageous men I know. And if you make an example of him after a war you sat back and let happen then I can’t support your government because that’s not justice. It’s cowardice.”

Harry sat back in the stand. “Anything else?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Ottaline Warbeck dropped her head to peer across at him. “No, Mr Potter. We thank you for your testimony.”

Harry nodded, dragging a hand across his face as he was led from the stand. He glanced at Draco as he passed, and pursed his lips, before looking down at his feet and disappearing from the room altogether.

Hermione’s heart was racing.

“It needed to be said,” was all Ron could manage.

She shook her head and looked at him, seeing him more clearly all of a sudden. “Have we just condemned Draco Malfoy?”

Before he could open his mouth to answer, the room took on a chill. Goosebumps erupted along her arms, and Hermione frowned, rubbing her skin to try and warm up. Her breath crystallized in the air. Her fingers ached from the cold. She turned to Ron, question on the tip of his tongue, when she noticed how pale he’d gotten. She followed his gaze.

“I thought they were getting rid of them,” whispered Hermione.

Ron’s mouth was set in a grim line. “Shacklebolt couldn’t find a big enough force to replace them. There aren’t enough Aurors as it is. He’s still working on it.”

Hermione hadn’t seen one in months. There was only one, moving like a shadow had somehow crept from the ground and solidified, a figure of pure darkness gliding along the floor. It turned its hollow face to Draco, and she saw again its soulless eyes. The Dementor’s breath rattled like chains being dragged along the floor as it led someone across the room.

“The third and final witness, Mr Lucius Malfoy.”

Hermione froze. She felt Ron stiffen beside her. Eyes shooting to him, she saw Draco stare at his father as though he were seeing a ghost, resurrected from the dead, dredged up from his past.

“Did you-?” she started to ask but Ron cut her off.

“No.”

He was unrecognisable. His hair was still long, though it was greasy and so dirty it almost looked brown. He wore the Azkaban robes, and they hung from his narrow shoulders, dangled from his sallow ribs. Lucius Malfoy’s face bore no shadow of his former arrogance; his cold eyes were dull, his cheeks hollow. Hermione almost felt sorry for him.

The Dementor led him over to what looked like a larger and longer bird cage, though each bar groped inwards as well as out. Two Aurors fastened him inside, making sure to keep their distance from his shrouded guard.

“Mr Lucius Malfoy,” said Ottaline Warbeck. “Thank you for agreeing to testify today.”

The elder Malfoy dropped his head in a nod, but his eyes clung desperately to his son’s face. Draco could barely even look at him.

“Mr Potter claimed earlier that your son was only given the task of killing Albus Dumbledore to punish you,” began the Chief Warlock. “Is this true?”

Lucius tried to speak, then had to clear his throat. His voice remained sore and underused. “Yes.”

“Can you elaborate on why he thought you needed to be punished?”

“I had failed him,” said Lucius weakly. “The Dark Lord was… most displeased that I had failed to bring him the Prophecy and that I should allow myself to be imprisoned.”

“Why would he choose to recruit your son as punishment?” asked the woman sitting on the left of the Chief Warlock. “Would it not be an honour to have your son initiated into your ranks?”

Lucius winced harshly. “He knew Draco would not succeed. He aimed to mock me, to watch me lose my son- my only heir-”

He broke off. His head lolled forward, resting against the metal bars. Hermione thought she heard him sob quietly.

“Very well, thank you, Mr Malfoy,” Ottaline Warbeck’s voice was softer than the other woman’s. “What about the day you failed to identify Harry Potter? Can you tell us about that?”

Lucius drew himself up and nodded once. “I knew, if only Draco could say for sure that it was him- then it might restore us in the Dark Lord’s favour but he- he could not… He said he couldn’t be sure. The Dark Lord punished us for hours when they escaped-”

The man on the Chief Warlock’s right spoke up again. “Were you proud when your son took the Mark, Malfoy?”

Lucius’ eyes fell on him. His lip curled ever so slightly, his voice bordered on his old drawl. “Hawkworth,” he greeted. “I’m surprised you’re still allowed on the Wizengamot, after what happened with your son…”

Hawkworth’s mouth tightened. “Answer the question, Malfoy.”

“Yes,” he replied, almost boredly. “I was proud. It was what I had been steering him towards his entire life.” Hawkworth looked smug, a vindictive disgust dawning on his broad face, before Lucius added, “And then I was terrified. Because I knew my son had become just another pawn in His game. And I was powerless to save him. What father can’t protect his son?” Lucius cocked his head. “Were you proud, Hawkworth, when your son ran away to join the Death Eaters? I can say hello to him for you if you’d like.”

Hawkworth’s face flooded crimson, and a vein jolted in his forehead, as he leaned forward. He spat, “We are nothing alike. My son was coerced- seduced!- when it was dangerous to do the right thing! Your son was groomed for that life. He was a Death Eater in training! Who’s to say he still isn’t! Tell me, Malfoy, did you help him pick out the mead that would’ve poisoned Dumbledore or did you send it him yourself?”

Lucius Malfoy stared at him and he grappled desperately for something to say. Hermione glanced between the two, eyes lingering on the smug satisfaction drying on Hawkworth’s face. She mustn’t have been thinking- she really couldn’t have been thinking- but she shot to her feet, clambering hastily over Ron, who tried to reach for her to hold her back, and running down the steps until she was on the very bottom stand, leaning against the bannister.

“Stop!”

Her scream echoed. Then it fell silent all too quickly. Hermione could hear every one of her breaths, loud, ricocheting. Her knuckles were turning white, she was clutching the railing so hard.

“Why are you doing this?” she demanded. “He’s just a child!”

Lucius Malfoy’s eyes flicked between her and his son.

Hawkworth sat up straighter in his seat, face turning putrid behind his bulbous moustache. He spluttered indignantly. “He is of age and will therefore be treated as an adult in a court of law!”

“He might have a Dark Mark but he never earned it! He never killed anyone! He used an Unforgivable-” Hermione laughed but it was unhinged and panicky. “So have I. So has Harry. So did everyone in that war! You know what his crime is! It was being on the losing side.”

“Miss! Will you please sit down or I will have you removed from the courtroom!” the man had leapt to his feet, voice a roar.

But Ottaline Warbeck simply watched her curiously.

Hermione turned to her. She licked her lips because they were dry, shook her head because there was a buzz inside her temple like a little, nervy bee that wouldn’t sit still. Her heart was beating so hard in her chest, and her voice shook but she made sure it was still loud, still firm and resolute so that they could not question her.

“There’s no blood on Draco Malfoy’s hands. There’s only necessity and my God, is there goodness that has been blackened by the badness of those he was forced into serving and the hypocrisy of those who survived under different circumstances. If this is the way you treat victims of war, of dictatorship and dark magic- if this is the way you treat children who were just trying so desperately to survive and to deserve survival, then I want no part of your new world, because you’re just as bad as Voldemort was. You might just even be worse.” Hermione took a final, shuddering breath. “At least he didn’t pretend he was doing the right thing.”

The Chief Warlock straightened her papers and said, “Trial adjourned. I do believe we can stop there.”

The world fell away. Ron reached her just as her legs gave way, catching her so she didn’t fall completely. She slumped against him, letting him walk her back to their seats. Hermione could feel eyes on her, so many eyes, but none of it mattered. Ron’s breathing was ragged and hot against her hair but it didn’t matter. They’d spent weeks trying to come up with a case, getting Harry’s speech just right, making sure the memory was fine, recruiting Madam Rosmerta, and in just a few seconds, she had shattered it all.

Lucius was led away, back to his 5 square meter eternity. His eyes clung to his son’s face, perhaps knowing it could be the last time he ever saw him, and he whispered something, the words dropping from his lips over and over again, heavy and remorseful: “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m-”

The Wizengamot filed from the room next, standing row at a time and leading out of the opposite door. Ottaline Warbeck looked back once.

“It’s over,” Hermione whispered, clenching her eyes shut. Her head throbbed. Her eyes stung. She wanted to leave, to be anywhere else- she wanted to be in Hogsmeade, looking over the mountains and lake as the sun kissed the world goodnight, feeling Draco by her side, his fingers through hers, the lightness of his voice as he said something sarcastic- “It’s over. What have I done?”

Ron didn’t say anything. He just held her close, arms around her, holding her together as she came undone.

They felt to be waiting hours.

Draco was left in his chair. He hadn’t moved since the trial had started. Ron kept checking his watch and swearing, mumbling, “They shouldn’t be taking so long. They’ve never taken so long.”

Harry joined them at some point, sitting beside Hermione in silence, not replying when Ron clapped his shoulder and told him he’d done well. He simply stared at his shoes, and Hermione numbly wondered if he thought she’d ruined it too.

“I’m sorry,” he said after what felt like forever.

Hermione looked at him in surprise. “For what?”

“For losing control like that.” Harry swallowed, blinking quickly, looking up at the ceiling. “I didn’t mean to. I’d practised what I was going to say, what I was going to talk about, so much but- in the moment, when they’re asking me all these questions, trying to get the answers they want to hear from me, I just- I snapped.”

Without warning, he kicked the seat in front of him, burying his face in his hands. “They’re hypocrites, Hermione. All of them. How can they judge us for fighting in a war they were too cowardly to fight themselves?”

She wanted to offer him something, a shred of comfort, a pat on the back, but everything fell flat. So Hermione just slid her hand into his and ran her thumb over his knuckles, hoping it might calm him down. Sure enough, his shoulders slumped. His breath escaped him.

The door reopened. The Wizengamot filed in, reclaiming their seats, sitting like crimson vultures circling their prey. Ottaline Warbeck was the last to sit. She cleared her throat and the room was devoured in silence.

“The Wizengamot has reached a verdict,” she announced. Her eyes never strayed from Draco’s face. “The Wizengamot find Draco Malfoy guilty.”

Hermione let out a sob. She started crying, pushing the palm of her hand against her lips to smother the noise. Harry tugged her to him, holding her tight, his regret sighing into her hair. She clutched his arm, his robes. Ron put an arm around them both. The world was falling to pieces and Hermione just tried to cling on-

“However,” Ottaline Warbeck continued. “The Wizengamot is a vehicle of justice. And there would be no justice in sending a child to Azkaban. Mr Malfoy’s involvement with the Death Eaters is undeniable. However, he committed no serious crime; his attempts on Albus Dumbledore’s life lacked real intent, and even when his life, and the life of his family was in utmost danger, Mr Malfoy still found the courage to defy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in small ways that ultimately changed the course of the war, the saving of Mr Potter’s life being just one of them.”

Hermione held onto Harry tighter, sitting up, not daring to breathe, hardly daring to look, just in case the fledgling hope fluttering in her chest, reborn from the ashes of her despair, would burst into flames once more. But the air had changed. Harry breathed her name. The Chief Warlock continued.

“In which case, the Wizengamot can only reach the verdict that whilst Mr Malfoy is guilty of such crimes, he was a child exploited in a terrible and unforgiving war.” The Chief Warlock’s lips pursed together and she cleared her throat before she continued, laying her papers down. “And the world needs a little bit of forgiveness now more than ever. Consequently, Mr Malfoy is sentenced, under Ministry Orders and the power of the Wizengamot, to complete his NEWTS and remain at Hogwarts School for a minimum of five years on probation under the care of Minerva McGonagall to help with its healing. I will ask for regular reports to ensure the sentence is suitably carried out. In the meantime, the Wizengamot is adjourned.”

She stood then, and the trial was over.

Hermione collapsed on Harry. She could finally breathe freely. The world was so loud, so hypersensitive. Everything was echoing and clear and euphoric. Her heart was loose, rapidly beating, beating so fast she thought it might slip through her ribcage and do a lap of the room. The audience burst into chatter. Ron let out a victorious yell, punching the air. Harry hugged her tightly.

She disentangled herself, getting to her feet, clutching the railing so she wouldn’t stumble, and almost numbly descending the stairs. She had to get to him. Her legs carried her quicker, until she was all but running. Hermione had to get to him.

The Aurors had released him from the chair, the golden strands of magic falling away like cut ribbon, the strand around his ankle disintegrating into nothing. Draco turned to face her.

He caught her just in time. Hermione launched herself at him, holding him to her, hand at the back of his head, one wrapped across his shoulders, breathing him in, relishing in how warm and solid he felt against her. His arms came up to encircle her, holding her tight, almost squeezing her, refusing to let her go. Draco’s breath was shaking in her ear. His chest racked. He was sobbing. They both were.

“Hermione,” he murmured, but she shushed him. She nestled her head against his neck, feeling his pulse flutter.

This was what freedom felt like, she thought dazedly. His heart by her ear, his arms around her, his sweet relief pounding in time to hers.

“You did it,” Draco murmured into her hair, holding her tighter, squeezing her to him.

Hermione borrowed deeper into his neck, standing higher on her tiptoes. “No,” she said. “We just helped them see the truth.”

Ron squeezed Hermione’s shoulder and she stepped back, wiping her curls away from her face. He stood in front of Draco and the two stared at each other for a long time.

“Weasley,” said Draco, holding out his hand.

Ron laughed nervously, scratched at his neck and said, “Ah, what the hell,” before pushing his hand away and pulling him into a hug. It was only brief, but it was tight and it was brimming with their relief and their gratitude and a foreign sense of commonality.

They parted hastily, sharing a closed-lip smile. Harry stepped in then. He clasped Draco’s shoulder and Draco’s face melted a little. His grin was soaked in relief, in a lightness Hermione thought strange on his features.

“I can’t thank you enough,” said Draco. “I can’t thank you all enough. I- I couldn’t have done any of it without you.”

Harry shook his head. “I owe you my life. Twice over. You don’t need to thank me.”

Harry embraced him, gripping his shoulders tightly, screwing his eyes shut. Draco hugged him back with the same ferocity, the same wild, unspoken gratitude.

Hermione laughed a little, wiping her eyes and looking around. She caught Professor McGonagall’s eye and sent her a watery smile. The older witch was dabbing at her eyes, and Hermione spotted the knowing curve in her pursed lipped smile.

She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. When Hermione opened them, she caught sight of Ottaline Warbeck, the Chief Warlock, watching them from the doorway. She was still in her crimson robes, holding her hat in her hands; she looked younger in person, without the hat shading her face, and she smiled softly when she found Hermione staring. Hermione couldn’t help but smile back. She wanted to say thank you. But Ottaline just dipped her head in a nod, eyes flicking back to Draco a final time, before she turned and left.

Draco reached out. Hesitated. Then his fingers brushed Hermione’s. She spun to look at him.

He stared down at her, enraptured in the pink under her eyes and the golden sparks in her hair, by the constellations freckled across her cheeks. There was so much faith in her eyes, unwavering, solid, and Hermione stared at him like she believed in him. His heart was beating wildly, but it felt apart from him; Draco knew it had slipped from his bones the moment Hermione had screamed at the Wizengamot, risking everything, calling the world out for its cruelty. His heart belonged to her. That, and his life, his hope, every second of his freedom. He would dedicate himself to her, and as Draco stared at her, pondering on how he might never have seen her ever again if only the result had been different, he wondered how much sweeter euphoria would taste on her lips.

#dramione #dramione fanfiction #Dramione fanfic #Draco Malfoy #Hermione Granger #draco x hermione #Harry Potter #ronald weasley #Ron Weasley #harry potter fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #hermione granger fanfiction #hermione granger fanfic

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divine-peach · 6 years ago

Text

past life reading for @dasvidaniyafarewell

Memory:

“Shh, shh!” I turn around, finger to my smiling lips in the universal ‘quiet!’ sign as I face my siblings, brother and sister, who haven’t stopped their constant giggling throughout our journey through the undergrowth. My sister lets out a peal of laughter she quickly covers up with a hand while my brother continues his sniggering. I sigh, trying to form a stern look upon my face. “Is it that hard to ask you to be quiet for once?” I ask exasperatedly, the urgency of what we were doing, what we were about to do, catching up to me. “Be quiet, please,” I plead. Perhaps they realised the urgency of the situation or they heard something in my voice because they start to quiet down, putting on a mask of seriousness. “What do we do now?” My younger sister asks, crawling up from behind her brother to come to move closer to me. I place my arm around her, hugging her close to my body. She snuggled up closer to me, like a small bunny looking for warmth. I smile fondly down at her, before looking up to meet the gaze of my brother. My brother whose stormy grey eyes held countless emotions. He was the stranger of the family, born with pale blonde hair and grey/light blue eyes, completely different to my parents, my other siblings and my own darker looks. His mouth was set in a determined line, in his right hand, the smaller dagger I had gifted him. “What have you got there?” I ask teasingly, tampering down the small tendril of fear I felt at the slightly vacant look in his eyes. He turns to look at me, taking a minute to snap out of whatever daze he was placed in. He frowned, scrunching his nose; “shut up,” he spat out with no real malice. I let out a small chuckle at that.

Something rustles up ahead and I tense, my grip around my sister tightening that she lets out a tiny noise of surprise. I look down at her quickly and sharply, before my focus is back to the vague direction from where the sound came from, all senses on alert. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see my brother’s knuckles turn white as he grips his quaint dagger. I raise one eyebrow at him, silently urging him to not make any hasty moves or do anything just yet, his confirmation to my order reflected in his jerky short half nod.

Every muscle in my body is tense, alert, like a fox that has just scented its prey, or a potential predator. I try and peer through the bushes we had hidden behind, my vision mostly obscured by the green foliage. My eyes widened at the sound of mumbled chatter, the sound of someone pouring water and then the sudden smell of a campfire. I could see the sunlight glint of their armoured clothing, causing my eyes to narrow. Then suddenly my vision was obscured by dark brown trousers and grey, a soldier, a mercenary having led his horse over to our hiding spot. I tense in fear now, the fox with eyes wide open at having been cornered. My brother lets out a quiet curse, vibrating and I pray to the gods that he just stays still. My sister turns her head into my side, most of her obscured by her light brown cloak. I hold my breath, counting in my head, my very being screaming at me to fight or flee. The air leaves me in a quiet breeze as the shadow retreats - the man had stopped whatever action he was doing beside our hiding spot. I relax, feeling tired after the rather tense ordeal. Yet, it wasn’t over just yet. We still needed to steal some provisions and get out of here, carrying as much as we could back without getting caught. I look again at the group, thinking of a new way of accomplishing our task.

Appearance:

You had dark brown eyes, appearing almost black in certain lights, that were framed with heavy dark lashes to suit. You had dark/heavily tanned skin, almost bronze coloured, from spending many hours in the sun, skin which was occasionally dotted with smaller darker sunspots. You were graced with a beautiful set of dark brown, curly hair, the tight and springy kind, which your family believed represented your personality a lot - sociable and out-going. You were considered quite beautiful, yet neither more or less beautiful than your sisters, who were each blessed with their own kind of beauty. You believed you took a lot from your mother, both in personality and looks, while your eldest sibling was more alike with your father.

In the memory, you were wearing a plain set of clothes. You often wore a cloak that was quite rough to touch, and earthy in appearance, yet you loved it lots.

Traits & Characteristics:

You were not as rowdy as your brother, but you were still quite lively, in a charmingly cheeky manner. You were sweet in how you treated others and came off, your exuberant and social nature considered to be quite endearing. You were very much like a mini-mother, taking care of your younger siblings and making sure to spend time with them, as well as acting as emotional support for your older sister, who wasn’t as close with the younger ones as you were. Sometimes, it would be emotionally draining spending time with your older sibling, yet you wish to help her and you empathised with her.

Though you were sociable and greeted many of the village residents, you were quite private, not revealing much about yourself to others.

Major Themes:

Woodland/Nature

Karmic retribution

Care & guidance (of others and for the self)

Emotion

Separation

Support (or lack of)

Notes:

Your guardian actually showed me your memory.

You were the second eldest sibling. You had two younger siblings and one older sibling who you were close too, though the younger ones were not as close, probably due to the age difference.

I believe the origin of your previous life was somewhere in Eastern Europe, however, I’m unsure of the exact location.

This event took place somewhere in the 17th century (1600′s).

A lot of wildlife imagery, such as rabbits, foxes, pigeons and horses throughout this life.

Your mother was a role model for you, stories you heard of her were considered inspirational. Your mother didn’t appear in many memories after the birth of the young sister.

Your father was a kind but stoic man. He was a tall and understanding figure in your life yet you rarely saw him for he worked long hours. Your older sister was closer to your father than you or your other siblings.

#mine #paid readings #past life #readings #dasvidaniyafarewell

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ferallymine · 6 years ago

Text

Under Lock and Key

((Hey! Thought I was done writing? NOPE! This is a little thing I wrote for Celaena, Aed, and Aria, my Skyrim babes. Wanted to give my Dragonborn and her wife some more development, and tweak Aria’s persona/talents. Song referenced is https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cZdGE8_fOMM Enjoy!))

(oh, and if you want more, just send an ask <3 )

----------------------------------------------------- “I…never knew of this place.”

Aed let her callous hands run over the rough stone and metal, soaking in what remained of the ancient times.

“That makes all of us,” Celaena gazed, “Even if that sneaky courier was lying, he at least led us to this structure. I’m just amazed he found us out in the middle of the Reach at such a late hour.”

“People tend to find me in random places while I’m sleeping quite often,” Aria quipped. No response from behind her.

Celaena raised an eyebrow, “A story for another time, I presume? I’d love to hear it, Wish.” The elf paused for a second, facing her wife, “…Could this have been Lordok’s…project?”

“Lordok was a gifted Builder but he wasn’t this good. And he was too dumb to keep this so well hidden.” Aed snickered at the thought.

“Who’s Lordok?” Aria’s voice unintentionally echoed across the room.

The dwarf stopped, as if she wanted to repress the memory. Her hands barely shook as she answered, back still facing the Breton, “…Lordok was my brother.”

Celaena took Aed’s hand, “He helped us escape before the High Builders discovered our relationship, and how she’d been protecting me.”

Aria gave a small nod of understanding, “He sounds like a noble Dwarf, not abandoning you in those times.”

A mumble behind her made her smirk- at least Aria knew her Spectre was listening, now.

Aed pulled out the letter the courier gave her from her chestpiece, “But… there’s hope that he or one of his sons is alive- and if this was just a false lead, I swear even the dragons will feel my anger.”

The quartet continued down the hall, where a collapsed room now blended into the entrance of a cave.

“Well, the map with the letter says to continue through here.” Aed pointed ahead.

“Wait- I hear something…” Celaena held out her arm, “Running water? And I think some animals.”

Aria walked past them, taking the lead, “We’ve faced worse. May I see the map?”

The dwarf nodded, gently placing the paper in the breton’s hand. They continued, letting light from a spell in Celaena’s hand illuminate their path.

The rocks beneath their feet crunched with each step. The girls stuck close to each other, with the Spectre keeping back, making sure nothing came after them. They clung to the damp and mossy wall, as the path narrow and high. Its edge dropped into a ravine, water running white at its bottom. Jagged rocks jutted up from the flow.

A loose rock slipped from its position under Aria’s foot. Aed reacted on instinct, wrapping her arms around the Listener’s torso and pulling her back.

Celaena shuddered. Aria sighed and tapped the Builder’s firmly gripped fist.

Aed hadn’t realized how tightly she held Aria, or that her hands managed to grip her chest.

“I-I-I…I’m s-sorry,” She stuttered, clearly embarrassed.

“There’s no pain in the Void.” The assassin got back up and continued onward, unphased.

A low chuckle came from the Spectre. Aed and Celaena looked at each other, slightly confused, but cautiously followed after her.

----------

The stench reached them before they reached the chamber.

Bodies of ill-prepared adventurers lay strewn about the floor and walls. Two of them seemed fresh compared to the others.

“Ugh, this REEKS.” Celaena pinched her nose.

The Chamber was mainly an unkempt cave, save for large metal rods, stone plates, and two doors at the end.

Aed, seemingly unbothered by the scent or Celaena’s antics, made a beeline towards the other end of the chamber.

“THANA!” Aria yelled.

The Rods hummed, and shone blue for a small second. The brightest closer to the quartet, then dimming the farther away they were.

Aed stopped beside a body next to the plates. Her heart pounded through her chest as she questioned herself.

*I’ve never seen this I don’t know what this is I don’t know who built this how am I to get past this I was 3rd in line to a High Builder and I was supposed to know everyth-*

The others caught up to her, each filled with a bit of wonder and fear.

“Aed!” Celaena gripped her wife’s shoulder, “Aed talk to me.”

Silence.

“Aed!”

Tears filled the dwarf’s eyes. Her voice was barely audible. “I don’t know what this is.”

The Spectre scoffed, “What?”

“Silence from you,” Aria pointed at him.

Aed shook her head, “I don’t know what this is. I’m supposed to know what all Dwarves built but I have never seen this before in my-“

“Who cares?” Aria stated.

Aed and Celaena stared blankly at her.

“Who cares what you’re supposed to know? I don’t. I care about finding what’s left of your family. You’ve never seen this before? Us neither. So sit down and let’s figure this out. TOGETHER.”

The Rods hummed and shone briefly. The brightest being closest to them, then the light fading along the rows.

Aed noticed, “Aria, scream at me.”

A puzzled look answered her.

“Yell at me!” She insisted.

“FINE!” Aria yelled.

The Rods gave their same response.

Aed’s eyes lit up, “Those rods react to loud noises.”

The Dragonborn scratched her head, “That helps us…how?”

“I think this is a voice lock.” She rose from Celaena’s side, “Those rods reacted to Aria’s loud voice.” The dwarf picked up a stray brown stone and threw it on one of the grey carved stone plates between the rods. Spikes emerged from nowhere, through the space above the stone’s landing.

“Yeah!” Aed cheered, bringing a fainter light from the Rods, “This is a voice and a path lock.”

When nothing but silence and strange faces responded, Aed continued her explanation, “Voice locks were extremely experimental and unstable back in my days as a Builder, and only the High Builders were allowed to tamper with it. That’s why I didn’t recognize this architecture. Path locks, however, were very stable and everyone used them. There’s a certain order that the stones can be walked on in order to cross to the doors, otherwise a trap like one I triggered will happen. At the same time, however, we have to solve the voice lock. Then those doors at the end will open.”

“What if you’re wrong?” The Spectre cut in, eyes glaring through Aed.

“Then whoever is crossing will die.” Aed stared back with more intensity.

Aria rolled her eyes, “Is there a specific voice command we need to say?”

Celaena sparkled with an idea, “The letter! It had a jumble of words on its back that I didn’t give them much thought. But if this is a voice lock…”

“…Then they’re the words we need!” Aed excitedly high fived her wife. The Spectre sighed and decided to inspect the bodies nearby. The girls huddled together as Aed pulled out the paper and read the back-

King

Throne

Pillared

Rune, Power

Sun, Star, Moon

Crystal

Cloud

World

Mountain

Forge, Cold

Harp, Hammer

Darkness, Halls

“Sounds like rubbish to me,” Aed sat back down on the ground, “But that’s our best bet on this lock.”

“Not only that,” The Spectre came back to the group, “I found these pages on the others. They all say something about a song being the key.”

Celaena scrunched her nose, “What song?”

He held up a page, “ ‘The Rods talked to Mira, I just know it. She started singing a song I’ve never heard before. But when she got to the middle she suddenly stopped, and then the spiders came after her.’ … Gets rather bloody after that.”

Aed grabbed her hair, “OOOOOOOHHHHHH They used magic with this lock! That’s... really against the Builder Code. Must’ve been a rogue who built this place.”

“Magic?” Aria asked.

“The rod things tell you the song, BUT you have to know certain words in order to continue. Lucky for us, we have the words! …Probably.” Aed looked down at the letter in Celaena’s hands.

“May I see that?” Aria pointed to the letter.

Celaena handed it to her. Aria walked right up to the plates, and knelt down.

“What are you doing?” The Spectre followed behind her.

Aria said nothing. She simply looked more closely at the plates.

“Wish?” Celaena rose.

“The words match the plates. See the carvings?” Aria pointed, “And some have multiple runes. So where the commas are in this letter symbolize a multi-runed plate. That’s how you navigate the path.” She smiled, “I’ll go.”

“What?!” Aed and Celaena gasped at the same time.

She smirked, “I’m the one who stands to lose the least should I fail.”

Her Spectre grabbed her arm, “Aria…please think about-“

“I did.” Her face turned cold, “Either I’m right and we go along, or I’m wrong and I finally join my family in the Void……join you in the Void…” Her voice trailed off.

“I-“

“Lucien.” Aria held up her hand, “Please. Shut up.”

“Good luck, Wish.” Aed gave a warm smile.

Aria faced the lock, took a breath, and began.

#the elder scrolls v: skyrim #skyrim #original characters #original writing #writing #celaena raijin #the dragonborn #aed thana #her wife #aria evelyn #the lonely one who has been around since oblivion crisis and really need a hug and a cigarette #i say that like aria is the oldest but they're all old as shit #aed's prob the oldest of the bunch #also added my own lore in regard to Dwarves because I'm creative like that #kdjfhaskldfhas #ask about the builders sometime i think that'd be pretty neat #also rip aed's emotions she's still upset about being forced to leave her brother behind #press f to pay respects to Lordok #lordok best bro 2019 #dkjhfalkjhad #anyway #hope you liked it!#divines bless this idiotic trio featuring a snow elf bisexual a dwarven lesbian a breton straight and the ghost of purification past #dani quit yo rambling #see ya <3

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