#hrid chronicles

[thechroniclesofhriddick]

All Saint's Wake is back.

Yay... I guess. At least this time there's nothing bad goin' on like turnin' people inna monsters... Dunno why we're 'elping the voidsent learnin' 'ow to "nicely scare" people though.

At least we stopped the not-so-nice voidsent from doing... whatever they were planning by turnin' them into pumpkins! (I dun wanna think if all the pumpkins are voidsent; I'mma do m'self a favor and say "no".)

Anyroad, its A'caedia's first All Saints Wake! She's a bit too small for a cossie, so we opted t' just dress her in an orange onsie wit a green cap that won't bother 'er growing floppy ears. She seems t' like the marshmallow ghosts like I do, cooing at them and tryin' t' reach out and touch them. Its adorable. We are keepin' 'er away from the Haunted House. I dun like the feel of it in there, and there are voidsent...

Svan is worried my voidsent may come for me since... y'know, easier time t' cross over 'n all an' I dun disagree... But I did wanna go and see all the cute decorations...

...I think it'll be ok.

I hope so. And if not... well I got me a battle bun.

[gzeidraws]

Bunch of "Six Fanarts" posted over on my BlueSky! 🦋

[dualsquelcher]

reblog if you think the girl on the left is just as beautiful as the girl on the right

[thechroniclesofhriddick]

Quarry

A'kiva follows behind their kit, amused, as she waddles through the village only stopping to bend down and catch herself before righting back up and going onwards. She refused to let him carry her, fussing all the while until he let her down to wander and while he knows the village as large as it was would keep an eye on her, even a year later, he's yet awed that he has a kit, and still can't bear to have her out of his sight.

So he follows the little viera, wondering what it is exactly she is looking for. Its only a little while later he has his answer:

From outside one of the largest tents comes F'yire, his mates, and his advisors, the leaders of this mismash of a tribe. One of which, is his mate and father of his kit, Svangeir.

A'caedia squeals and somehow waddles faster, running into her father's leg to hug it. Having found her quarry, she begs Svan to pick her up and hold her. The sight of which giving A'kiva a fuzzy warm feeling.

[thechroniclesofhriddick]

[thechroniclesofhriddick]

Imperfections

What is one thing you dislike about yourself that your lover likes?

A'kiva has been pondering on this question for a long while since it was posed to him days before in preparation he assumes for Saint Valentoine's Day the coming moon.

And.. how does one answer that? Is it physical? Is it a skill? Is it a trait?

He supposes it really wouldn't matter as its just one thing as opposed to every little thing, but then the question still stands:

What does Svan like about him that A'kiva doesn't?

Kiva refuses to believe its how he is. For many reasons but ultimately - he wants to improve. He's going to improve and while he has a sort of understanding that Svan liking who he is now doesn't mean he doesn't want A'kiva to improve or that he would hate the miqo'te improving... he feels its best for him to not think too hard on it.

He also quickly dismisses all of his traits because again tied in with improvements that he doesn't want to think about right now.

So physical.

Well he likes his hair. Its the last thing he has of his sire and brothers after all. His eyes aren't his favorite attribute but he doesn't hate them either. Sort of... neutral to them. His pupils are Seeker normal. His ears and tail-

He pauses in thought. His tail... was something he definitely didn't like. At all. It was too short. No one else in his tribe had one as short as his into adulthood. And he was teased endlessly by it, always being called a child.

Svan though... Svan never saw it that way. He pets it at times, marveling at how it moves. Likes when it curls against his hand or against him. In fact, he would claim its Svan's favorite feature of his if he didn't know what actually was: his eyes. And not the colour of them either.

He glances down at his tail as it flicks, almost to say hi to him. He thinks he could learn to like it. Svan already does.

And what is one thing your lover dislikes about them self that you like?

A'kiva... doesn't think there is a shortage of things, but then Svan has mostly accepted the way he is. He doesn't like how cumbersome his prosthetic is, but he doesn't hate having one or having lost his arm...

But... there are things that other people don't like about his mate: the fact he has a tail, has dark hair. He and Svenja take pride in their black hair and Svenja loves the fact her father has a tail (and wishes she too inherited it) but he could see how Svan, a younger Svan, could have hated looking different like he does currently.

He does like Svan's tail. Its cute and fluffy. He's pretty sure he wouldn't care what color hair his mate could have had, but the glossy black with his emerald eyes suits him too well for him to see him any other way.

But if A'kiva had to choose, and strictly going off of other people because he's pretty sure Svan doesn't care what others think about his looks anymore, he would say his mate's nose.

An odd choice, sure, but he loves the fact its slightly hooked. It makes for interesting nuzzles. And the imprint of it against his face is so distinct from any one else's he knows immediately its his mate. He also likes the little dark hairs on it. They're more than visible enough to give what most others would think is an odd discolouration but also soft like his tail and ears that A'kiva just adores.

He stands from his place by the river and heads towards their tent. Thinking about the older male has made him miss his presence. If he isn't there, at least he can smell him until he gets home.

((Originally the questions were going to be:

Name one imperfection about yourself that your lover likes

Name one imperfection about your lover that you like

Buuut the questions I used I think fit A'kiva's mind better.

Happy Saint Valentoine's Event while I'm at work... that I should be asleep for but ain't!))

[thechroniclesofhriddick]

A Boy and his Bun Wish You Happy Starlight

[thechroniclesofhriddick]

After getting his mother and Svenja settled he ported back to Diajik’s village. As he told Inxli and Aerulian he was going to spend the night with A'kiva before coming back to a hopefully blizzardless Ishgard.

Upon entering his tent he is greeted by sleepy yet fearful eyes. Svan dressed down and let himself be pulled into his trembling mate for a moment until he calms.

Kiva had a nightmare of the voidsent last night and was thus afraid of having on tonight. Svan's presence does little more than comfort, but Kiva feels better.

When the trembling stops he slips away only to bring out the little Tapir Inxli had gifted him to help with the nightmares and the creature trying to leap out at the small miqo’te through them. Kiva was a bit wary at first, but the sponge silkie seemed to like it and the tapir was cute. So they all laid down to sleep, the silkie snuggled in Kiva's neck, the tapir curled between them and neither had poor sleep that night.

Upon the morrow, Svan had a problem. He was to be back in Ishgard, snow permitting, to help train with the knights alongside Vhari, but A'kiva had clung to him, not wanting the older man to be away all day. There was no safer place than within Diajik's wards.

Thankfully, good news arrived in the form of a warmly dressed Xynal coming to collect his children.

"You can stay with us," the Duskwight said, and his eyes seemed to... glow. "Our house is heavily warded. Enough so, that I may even be able to give Diajik and Inxli both a run for their gil." With reassurances from Xynal, saying that Aerulian and Bram and G'rahn would not mind, as well as Vuhne and Grian and Sindri wanting to have Uncle Kiva around it was settled. For the duration of the next few weeks, Kiva would stay in the Badeaux household.

Svan and Kiva and Xynal and his brood met with Vhari and the men and women they had chosen at an outpost in the Shroud just before the boarders of Coerthas to march together. Svangeir made sure his mate was dressed warmly in a thick coat and that the tapir and silkie they were bringing with them too did not freeze atop his chocobo.

He wasn't sure if Xynal or Ruvhari'a were warding off anything as they went but he was grateful to whomever was. And even more so to have several dragons and a suspicious fae fly above.

They all made it to Ishgard without incident, and Vhari and the other soliders separated to their own lodgings as Xynal guided them through the streets of Ishgard.

Though Svan and Kiva had been there several times for both Glitter and Story Halls they still gained stares. But then, so did Xynal and Grian and Vuhne... Xynal didn't seem to let it bother him, though he kept his children close.

Still, when inside the comfortable home, Svan will admit he breathed easier, and couldn't help but give a soft smile as Vuhne happily dragged Kiva to a guest room, Sindri on her head and Grian not far behind. He and Xynal followed at a more leisurely pace.

"If your little friends need company," Xynal starts, "Waddles and Bram's own silkie and pigs will enjoy the company." The tapir seemed delighted as Waddles came in, curious, and greeted it, but the silkie, Svan noticed had its little paws dug in next to Kiva. The little mousy creature seemed to have taken a protective liking to his mate.

The Duskwight turns to him. "And if you and Svenja and your mother wish to stay with us, they too are welcome." Svan nodded as Xynal herded the children out for them to get settled in. He at least, was going to take up on the elezen's offer.

[thechroniclesofhriddick]

Grievance

When Cedrik first came to he saw the ceiling of a tent. That was odd. Wasn't he in the forest? He doesn't remember coming back. Vision blurry, confused and exhausted he closes his eyes and goes back to sleep.

The next time he awakes he feels he can move. As he tries to sit up he feels a hand push him back into the bed. "Lay back down," he hears from a familiar voice. "The healers would be cross with me if I let you sit up."

Cedrik looks over and sees Njala, Svangeir's mother a smile on her face. He was in the healer's tent. He lays back down, looking wildly about. Last he remembered he was with Svan and - A'kiva, the kit. Where...? "What... happened?"

Njala looks serious as she gets comfortable in her seat. "My son brought you, A'kiva, Loki and a small kit with him from the woods. Taxir, Durriken and the Matriarch were attending to Ruvhari'a's family and were ready to receive you.

"From the report Svangeir made you both were being chased by voidsent on your way back to us when you suddenly fell, likely due to blood loss. My son was able to hoist you upon his back and carry you the rest of the way. Were it not for Xynal's timely rescue, guiding G'laice, Svenja, and Sanskir to you, you all would have been lost..."

There's a warmth in Cedrik's chest, even as he says, "He should have left me behind."

Njala scoffed. "My son yet cares for you even if he may not love you." She nods over to her right and Cedrik found an empty chair with his eyes. "Since you all have been brought here he has not left save for when he is needed."

"A'kiva and the kit are here then? Are they well? Whose kit was it?"

"A'kiva is alive. His fever broke this morn. As for the kit..." She pauses. And he fears for the worse. "Once the tribes have quieted and all were accounted for, we looked to see who could be the parents. The kit belonged to no one. She has no family.

"Svangeir is out currently doing another round of checking but..." Cedrik nods. She smiles and stands. "I will leave you to your rest." He watches her leave and then closes his eyes, the peace and quiet helping him drift off long before Svan returned.



When Cedrik wakes again there is no one by his bedside. He thinks its late as it feels dark in the tent, lit only by a candle. His eyes catch something, however - a glint of metal. It was an arm. A metal arm. Attached to a fair skinned dark haired viera male. Svangeir.

The man was slightly slouched in his chair, arms crossed and head bowed, asleep. Cedrik's eyes soften. The man no longer considers them mates, but he will always think of Svan as such. His beautiful black swan.

He's startled to hear a sharp cry and watches as Svan wakes and swiftly rises and goes to his right. He follows him and notes his mate goes to a bed... a crib... the kit.... and watches as he picks her up, rocks her slightly and then goes to get a bottle to feed her all in practiced movements.

He imagines the man doing this to his daughter Svenja - and with one arm at that - making a sharp longing rise up in his chest. He missed it. All of it.

He couldn't take Svan with him. They had young bucks, just on the cusp of majority panicking, upset. It wasn't a good environment for his wounded mate to be in, and even if they were older and able to help, they had to be on the move. It was better for Svan to stay in his birth village.

Initially he tried to stay in the area. He wanted to make sure his mate was going to live, that another bear wouldn't come attack, to visit his mate perhaps, especially. He was denied. Repeatedly. Even with Njala trying to vouch for him. Eventually he had to move, the bucks were getting restless and he knows his mate would put them first. Always such a caring soul to young ones...

And so he did and he mourned. Not in that his mate was dead, he knew him. Svan would make it. But he mourned the loss of his presence, holding him, talking to him.

He wished he could have seen him with his daughter. Seen his daughter at all. See if she looked like him, like her mother, a mix. He wanted to see Svan.

But with him having to send his mate away for fear of his life... perhaps it was best. Perhaps... it was his punishment. He turns over, not wanting to see anymore, be lost in memories and what ifs and tries to fall back asleep.



He awakes the next day to see A'kiva in the chair, holding the kit. Its a viera he notes, with white hair and slightly floppy ears. A'kiva smiles down at him. "Yer awake." He nods and tries to keep his eyes straying from the chair he last saw Svan in. "'Ow're y'feelin'? D'ya thin y'can eat sumthin?"

"Am I allowed to sit up?"

Kiva seems to ponder that. "I thin' so."

The man sits up, feeling a bit weak. He turns just in time to see Kiva stand and limp over to a table, adjusting his hold on the kit to pick up a bowl before returning and handing it to him, spoon already in it. Cedrik takes it, keeps his eyes on it and focuses on spooning food. "Have you eaten?" he asks.

He doesn't look to see if Kiva nods. "Yah. 'Bout a bell ago."

"Are you well?" He asks these things mostly out of obligation. He doesn't hate A'kiva, though he doesn't know him well enough to truly like him. He's just... upset. From last night and his thoughts.

"We're alright... Loki's alive... th' kit is well an' I..." A'kiva pauses. "I can walk." That's good. And he says so aloud, but despite just eating he isn't heavy from the food, but his heart. "Are... ya alright?" No. No he wasn't.

Aloud he says, "I... am tired." A lie.

A'kiva takes his mostly empty bowl from him. "We'll let ya sleep." He's sure he's given a bright or hopeful smile but he can't look at the smaller male right now, nodding and laying back down, curling up on his side. He hears the tent flap open and close and he assumes the male took the kit so she wouldn't wake him.

He curls away from the door and tries to sleep with some success.

He wakes perhaps a bell or two later, facing the chair that is now occupied. Its Svangeir. Cedrik wants to be happy to see him, but all he can feel is deep sorrow.

"How are you feeling?"

He turns over onto his back with a quiet sigh. "I am fine." He glances over and notes that Svan is wearing half a shirt, exposing his stomach... and some bandages. He's not sure what makes him say it, either sadness or guilt but, "You should have left me."

"I refused to." And Cedrik is unsure what that's supposed to mean. Did he feel grateful for protecting A'kiva? Did he feel he had to as clan head? He knows what he wants it to mean but Svan made it clear he wants nothing to do with the older buck. And he respects his younger m- ...He shouldn't think of him like that.

They remain quiet for a short while. Cedrik still refusing to look at the other male, feeling his heart sink ever deeper. All that he would want to say, he has said. "Just because we are no longer mates does not mean I don't care for you still."

Cedrik feels his face contort into a snarl and he turns away from him. "I did not make that decision."

"Cedrik-"

"Leave. Just... leave..." He waits, feeling Svan's eyes on him for several breaths before his ears hear the man stand. He watches him leave through the tent flaps and its then and only then he curls up tightly and allows himself to cry.

He isn't sure how long its been when he feels another presence in the tent. His eyes immediately drift towards the opening and it is Njala once more. "...Svan asked you to come here."

"He did," she agrees, seeing no reason to hide it. She sits in the chair beside his bed. He doesn't move. "He says his presence upsets you."

He scoffs. "Of course it does. How can he claim he yet cares when he was the one to push me away? Still pushes me away!"

"That is not how Svangeir sees it. You know this. We asked him to die to our people, to us, when we bade him leave. True, twas for his life, but that does not make his feelings of betrayal and hurt any less real."

"I was going to follow him. The moment the bucks under our care were well enough to live on their own I would leave and not come back."

"Did you tell him thus?" His silence and his flattened ears spoke for itself. "He had no reason to believe you would come for him," she says kindly. "He made peace with the idea you no longer loved him, though that is not the case."

And now he has A'kiva he thinks. A man just a few years old enough to be considered a budding warder who he loved and protected dearly, who he would leave the clan over for. He tries not to think of him as either a kit or with bitterness. He wasn't the enemy and it wasn't his fault. He has no control over Svan's feelings. He should move on, but he... can't. He promised Svan forever, that his hair and tail didn't matter - he'd love him all the same.

Njala is quiet for a moment. "I will tell you this and what you do with said information is up to you: Svangeir yet loves you. Mayhaps not as a mate, but he would not yet have feelings for you, good or bad, if he did not care. He may never take you back as a mate, but you will not win him back, mate or friend, unless you come to terms with A'kiva and ease Svan's worries with the clan."

He glances to her at that. He had little qualms with getting close to A'kiva. He was giving the miqo'te space because it was obvious he made him uncomfortable, but what was with - "The clan?"

"While the clan is more tolerant of A'kiva, should you wish to persue a relationship with my son, they would not hesitate to demand A'kiva's presence removed."

Cedrik frowns. "Svan would not stand for that and neither would I. He makes him happy."

"But they see you as the more suitable mate."

"...Why are you helping me?"

She raises a red brow. "You love my son as much as A'kiva does and I know how hard it was for you to give him up not once, but twice. If you joining them brings them and you all happiness, so be it. If they are better off with out you, then I pray my words give you peace." She stands as Dion comes into the tent to tend to him, leaving through the flaps, but with the silloette he sees outside, remains close by.

He answers the miqo'te's questions when prompted but for the most part is left to his own thoughts.

[thechroniclesofhriddick]

(so A'kiva went through Haukke Manor... the real one and not the All Saint's haunted house)

Svangeir carried A'kiva to their tent. Though they have since agreed to stay permanently here in the Bloodclaw Tribe led by F'yire and G'laice, their new homes were yet to be built. Still, in the near catatonic state his mate was in, perhaps it was better they were on the ground.

Several of the clan members had come up to meet them only to be worried over the state of a clinging, quiet and terror-filled miqo'te - a far cry from before. Svan assured Kiva would be alright and did not stop until his mate was deep in their furs and cuddled up with both their tapirs along with a very tired Loki.

The sponge silkie had not left A'kiva's side once the moment it felt the presence of voidsent and even viciously attacked a few that got too close for his master's liking with several spews of bubbles and water to the face, even before Svan could quickdraw and fire.

The viera left and quickly returned with a large meal for the small fluffy animal. Both as a reward and to help it regain its strength. It was gobbled up rather quickly and if it wasn't for the silkie immediately curling up to sleep afterwards in the crook of Kiva's neck, Svan may have gotten another piece of meat or favorite snack if the poor thing was that hungry.

He sighed and began to dress down for bed and gently do the same for A'kiva before joining his mate. Immediately he was cuddled with and he happily took his mate in his arms.

Thanks to the tapirs he wasn't likely to have nightmares, but that doesn't mean sleep was going to be pleasant. A'kiva seemed to know this and tried to stay awake. But eventually he succumbed to the siren call and Svan wasn't much far behind.

(ye, he wants nothing to do with that duty again >> ever)

[thechroniclesofhriddick]

Lead

A'kiva wakes and goes about his morning routine. It takes him a moment to realize his mate is still in bed, still asleep, instead of up and about already. Tail flicking he turns, and notes that Svangeir's brow is furrowed slightly. And when he lightly brushes his hand against it he can feel how hot he is. He has a fever.

Kiva frowns. He wants to stay and take care of him. But they both have obligations. And so he makes a wet rag to place gently on his forehead, hoping to cool him a bit before he leaves their tent and goes to his potion lessons, stopping to tell one of the tribe healers that his mate was in need of looking after.

Once his lessons were done and it was later in the day he pauses. Svan forges in the morning and then has meetings if he recalls. He isn't going to let any one wake his mate up when he needs rest. And so he makes the decision to go in his mate's stead.

Were he mate to a proper Nuhn... well if the Nuhn was sick there would be a fight for his position, but as the favorite or mate of one, he could take up the non-mating duties, and he plans on doing just that for his own. They weren't a traditional Seeker tribe. Weren't even a tribe to begin with. They ran on different rules. And A'kiva firmly believes that since his mate cannot lead, as mate to clan head, it is his obligation to lead in his place until he can.

So, head held high he walks to where they were to meet. He sees his mate's head warder - Gunnar if he recalls - and his second, now Cedrik (he tries to not grimace at him, he still makes him uncomfortable). He sees his previous... not quite matriarch in A'zehya, his mother and one of his distant aunts. And finally he sees his mate's mother - Njala -, her mate, the one that challenge Svan over him and lost, Svenja, and another viera female whose name he does not recall. They are unbothered by him. It was normal for him to come to these meetings. But after a moment of no sign of Svan they look to him.

"Svan's sick," he says simply.

"Perhaps we ought to post-pone the meeting," A'zehya suggests.

"Why?" They turn to stare at A'kiva. He forces himself to not curl inwards. "'M 'is mate ain' I? He ain' here, yah, but I can take 'is place fer th' day."

The other parts of the clan look amongst each other. "What he says is true," Njala speaks. "As Svangeir is not here it falls to his mate to take up his duties, does it not?" With that settled the meeting continues.

Like normal, A'kiva brings his own input to the discussion and listens to everyone else's. This time, though, instead of deferring to his mate's judgement, they defer to him. It makes him uncomfortable, but he convinces himself that if he thinks Svan would agree or disagree to the idea, he would do the same.

As the meeting goes on, several others of the clan walk by and stop and stare. Interested. Kiva ignores them and stays focused on his self assigned task. The other leaders of their sects of the clan seemed content with how things were going. Or at least he thought so.

Still he wasn't surprised when someone spoke out about him taking his mate's place. "You are leading the tribe now?" calls out a viera, halting the discussion a bit.

"No. Svan's too sick t' lead. I took up 'is duties in 'is stead fer the day." As is his right.

She hums. "Which means you are clan head then. As such, I challenge you for the position." Of course.

"Svan ain' here. Ya want t' fight fer it, yer gonna wait."

"You're his mate. Accept the challenge in his stead."

A'kiva holds his head high and says soft yet loudly, "Svan dun need th' tribe. He was chosen cus of his strength an' he took the position t' giv ya'll direction in th' new world ya liv in."

When the Viera opens her mouth he continues, "He dun wan it. He stays cus I asked 'im t'." They stare. Kiva feels familiar approving eyes and he fights to not smile. Instead he gestures to his tribe and the young Viera women. "Cus they need it. An' he's th' best one fer it. If ya wan t' be beat that badly ya can wait til ya 'ave a fight." He hears several snickers but keeps his face passive. "Anythin' else?"

Now cowed, the meeting goes on for a few more moments before everyone disperses. Svenja immediately comes up to tell him she was proud he stood his ground on the matter. He even caught sight of Njala's approving gaze, as well as his mother's. He just flushes and says to his... daughter... that he only did what he thought her father would have done and prayed it was enough.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees a flash of white and pale and he hides a smile. He knows they worry about him, but he can't help but see G'laice as a brother if not a father-figure. And it makes him very happy to see that the man followed him just to look out for him. He hopes he made him proud.

Once Svenja was off for her own training he returns to his tent, and is both unsurprised and sad that his mate hasn't moved at all. He replaces the rag with a fresh one and sits by the man's side for a while, quietly changing it when it starts to get too warm.

He supposes its been a bell when Svan's eyes finally open before they close immediately afterwards and he groans softly. "What time is it?"

"Late." He hears his mate swear as he tries to sit up. "Th' meetin's are over wit. I took care of 'em." That makes his mate pause and look at him.

"...Did they give you trouble?" He isn't sure if the hoarseness makes his mate sound more menancing or not.

"One tried t' fight wit me o'er th' position. I told 'em if they wanna be beat they can wait til yer better."

The older male snorts, amused and lays back down. He slips a quiet "good boy" and Kiva flushes with a wiggle of his ears. HIs mate doesn't seem upset that he took over, but then, he supposes, Svan wouldn't be that way. "C'mere," the older male says, and happily Kiva curls up with him.

"Feel better?"

"Well I have you back in bed with me. I should think so." Kiva pouts at him as he laughs but just snuggles closer. That isn't what he was asking but he can't help but feel better himself, having his mate's arms around him.

[thechroniclesofhriddick]

All Saint’s Wake Hrid Family ED

((Decided to take pics of the whole family... ish))

(From left to right - Svenja, Svangeir and Astvaldur or as Vuhne sometimes likes to call them Mopsy, Cottontail and Flopsy)

[thechroniclesofhriddick]

Getting into the world of the Thirteenth was easy compared to finding A'kiva. Elael's minion helped but so much. They arrived to the domain but he still had to navigate it.

It looked like a green house. A vast jungle incased in a dome with matching voidsent creatures littering the area. Svangeir wasted no time in cutting through them all.

At the heart of it, was A'kiva... and the creature wearing his father's skin. His mate lay limp, bare and littered with cuts from which the void around them was seeping in, covering him in a film of purple corruption... as the thing took its pleasure from him.

Svan saw red. He leapt at it with his gunblade drawn to slice at it from above. It blocked him with a mocking smirk but he pulled the trigger and sliced it through, satisfied to wipe the smug look off it's face.

As it disappeared, he took one moment to place the protective charm on A'kiva, hopefully staving the rest of the void's presence. Svan wasn't going to need it in a few seconds.

He channeled the might of Brygeot and with a swoop of his blade forced open a portal for him and A’kiva to walk through. He picked up and held his mate in his metal arm, keeping his gunblade drawn as they ran through.

Of course, it wasn’t that easy.

Though the portal closed behind them with nary another void bound creature, it didn’t stop the score or so that came after them. Either the voidsent had that ability (and if it did, how the hells did it know where they went) or it knew someone who did. Regardless, Svan took his mate and ran through the trees of the Shroud.

He hoisted A’kiva up, not just to get a better hold of him, but also to feel his mate’s breath next to his neck. The miqo’te was still breathing, strained though it was. Good. He hadn’t lost him yet. He had thought himself over bearing keeping A’kiva in the protective bubble of Diajik’s tribe area for days on end, but seeing as on one of their trips out of the protection his mate was swallowed by a voidsent portal perhaps his overprotectiveness had merit.

Svan is taken out of his musings as a voidsent tries to bar their way and he is all to eager to slice it in half to keep moving. A large portal opens before them, forcing him to stop as a morbol like creature steps through, swinging a vine at him for an attack, forcing him back into the horde behind him.

From there, several things happen at once. The fae lover of Taxir and Diajik comes from the tree tops, his scythe hungry for the morbol voidsent as he cuts it down, and swallows its essence whole. Not long after he registers that a giant white lion comes barreling through the tree line, Xynal and Taxir upon its back, as it slices through some of the voidsent with a firery slash.

Taxir wastes no time in coming over to tend to A’kiva. Xynal looked as if he was going to, but several, stronger voidsent appear and he breathes out a heavy sigh.

There is a change of pressure in their surroundings, which puts Svan’s fur on edge as  night and stars surround Xynal in a spiral. When it clears, the pressure becomes heavy and in Xynal’s place stands... a being he could barely describe.

It had the same hair color of Xynal, and his black robe... but the hair was much longer, it had an extra pair of arms. The robe was clad in that of the night sky, ever shifting and showing the constellations of the Twelve as it moved.

The voidsent didn’t blink. In fact they began to swarm it, much to their downfall. With a wave of one hand they were pelted by literal shooting stars, causing some of the larger ones to pause.

“My don’t you look delicious...

Perhaps I should take you three instead...”

Vhari growled and the fae and Svan wasted no time in going over to protect Taxir as he tended A’kiva.

Unless you wish to face the might of an ancient and several void hunters I suggest you mosey on back to your shriveled hole from whence you crawled from.

There was a high crazed laugh. “You sound like such fun! But perhaps you’re right... There is after all the marked desert tribe...”

Vhari roared and the laugh came once more, only to stop as it faded away... along with the rest of the voidsent.

Go to your tribe, Vhari. He plans to attack them next.

Svan blinked. Was that... was that massive creature Xynal?

He didn’t get much chance to ask as with another swirl of strings they were neatly placed in Diajik’s tribe, the creature and Vhari left behind.

What in the hells is he apart of?

[thechroniclesofhriddick]

Svan’s ear twitches as he hears footsteps draw close to him and A’kiva. Instantly he is awake.

Though they are safe here in Diajik’s tribe and the Nuhn would not let anyone harm his clan, even from within his clan, he still pulls A’kiva close to him as he starts to lean atop his lithe mate.

Opening his eyes, he sees Cedrik. He doesn’t relax. The man puts him on edge. He feels it is unfair for him to dislike the man so. He did once love him and it is clear Cedrik still does, at least to him. But Svan still can’t get over the hurt of his older mate just... telling him to leave.

He knows A’kiva will never believe Svan has been where he was, but Svan has. He has felt useless. He felt useless when his birth clan had nothing for him to contribute to for the year he was spent recovering outside of caring for Svenja. He has felt weak. He was weak during that year, even if he trained to make up for it. He wasn’t as strong as Cedrik then or even the young warders they had started to train. He knows what it is like to believe your own mate deems you weak and has no desire to impart that onto his little mate.

...And he also knows how it feels to be given up on. He was. And that... he doesn’t wish that for A’kiva. Not from him or anyone. Because of this, this moment right here. He’s upset, he’s angry, he wants Cedrik to leave and walk out his life and not come back like the man did before.

“...Why are you here?”

The older male shrugs. “Because I am a masochist?” His eyes gaze down on A’kiva and Svan some how pulls him closer. “I will not hurt him Svangeir. He is important to your happiness.”

“...Yes, he is,” Svan says evenly. He doesn’t relax though. He can’t. Cedrik though he has proven to not be a threat to his mate still feels like one.

“I suppose I am envious of him. Since he has what I want.”

“You chose this.”

Cedrik smiles sadly. “I did not.” And Svan glares at him. “I asked you to leave for your survival, yes. And you took it to mean our relationship was over, understandably, but I did not choose to end us. My intention was to follow after you when my duties as teacher were complete.” He sighs. “I am just sorry it took so long.”

“You could have had me stay long enough for us to leave together. Or at least tell me that was your plan.”

“If I told you I was going to follow after you and I perished what then? You would have been waiting for a dead man who would never come. And I told you, I could not accept choosing the young over my mate due to an injury he had no control over and seeing him cut down again, this time permanently.” He sighs and gazes upon Svan for a moment. “Seeing you here, alive and thriving... I know my decision to bade you leave was risky. And there was no guarentee, but I cannot help but believe it was the better choice. Even if you hate me now.”

Svan doesn’t want to take him back. Doesn’t want to be shared between Cedrik and A’kiva. Doesn’t want to deal with the clan being appeased that he chose a proper mate now. He is happy with out Cedrik. He would have been happier with had things change but as they are now, he struggles to forgive the man.

He hears Cedrik sigh again, and then leave quietly. Svan finally relaxes as he lays back down next to A’kiva, frustrated that he is upset for not reconciling with the older man. He doesn’t want to. Because he knows where it is going to lead.

And he doesn’t want it.

[thechroniclesofhriddick]

When A'kiva awakes, the first thing his bleary eyes see is the ceiling of the medical tent. When he blinks he sees a murky black blur and the tries to say, "Svan...?" His tongue feels heavy, his voice quiet. He doubts he got his mate's name out. Another blink. No matter. It isn't Svan but rather Svenja.

His clear eyes blur yet again this time with tears as he whimpers. He hears the young female attempt to comfort him as she calls for the healers. Within moments two or three are on him, trying to figure out what is wrong. None of them have dark hair with blue ends. None of them are Taxir or Durriken. He tries to move away from their prodding, but his body is too weak. He can't even curl up and so he cries harder, unable to respond to their questions with more than whimpers.

The multitude of hands on him disappear, instead being replaced by one, which hauls him up into a lap against a flat chest and has his head flop into a neck. It is hard to smell from his stuffy nose, but he smells a forest, similar to his in La Noscea but older, warmer, of mountains of the bitterest cold to rival if not surpass Coerthas. He smells age, power, experience. And, though faint, he smells himself.

He smells Svangeir, his beautiful, strong warrior of a viera and his cries of worry and need of his mate turn to sobs of relief. He is rocked, and he cannot really parse his mate's words over his rampant thoughts of "he's here, he's here, he hasn't left, he's here" but he hears the timbre and understands the sound to be soothing.

Eventually his tears slow as he begins to calm. Clarity returns to A'kiva slowly. The room is much brighter than he remembers, and so he shuts his eyes and keeps his face tucked in to Svan's chest. He's cold, from sweat of the fever or perhaps from being out from the thick blanket and he curls closer for warmth. He hears words finally. Svan is... not quite speaking poetry. It sounds recited. Nursery rhymes? An old fable? The healers are asking him questions, if something hurts, if he needs anything. And A'kiva would have been overwhelmed by all of this...

If terror wasn't streaking down his spine as realization hits him and he begins panicking and crying anew. Svan likely can smell the sheer terror wafting off of him and though he knows his mate is struggling to stay calm and ask him what is wrong all Kiva can think of is that they are coming for him, they're going to get him, he is going to die and-

"No one is going to harm you," cuts through the terror-filled haze of A'kiva's mind. It is dark, low and full of such protective malice that the miqo'te can barely comprehend it came from his mate's mouth. "You are not going anywhere nor are you being taken from me." A strong, calloused finger lifts his chin up and on instinct A'kiva's eyes focus on Svangeir's. And in those emerald depths he sees the 90 year old Warder, he sees the reason why the clan elevated him to leader, he sees the man who Brygeot shaped and built and continues to build that which he chose, he sees the son Njala is proud of, who Cedrik fell in love with, who Svenja grew as a small kit on tales of, who the clan and his tribe both believe he is unworthy of (and he is...), he sees his Nuhn. "Is that clear?"

To anyone else, Kiva has learned, those words sound horrible. Its an order. A command little different from a master to a slave. But they give him comfort. As much as it is an order, and it is, it is also a declaration: Svangeir is telling him he isn't going anywhere, he isn't being taking from him... he will be protected and he is making sure A'kiva knows this. What more could he do than answer in kind? "Yes, Nuhn."

Svan softens and he earns a quiet "good boy" that has his heart bursting with gooey warmth almost enough to make his tail lash and his ears wiggle. "Who dares to harm my mate?"

And A'kiva tells him - his tribe Nuhn may be dead, his voidsent eviscerated but his sire yet lives... after a fashion. The man was swallowed whole and a voidsent inhabits his body. Kiva and the others thought him dead. And in truth he is. His sire loved him, loved all his sons and daughters.

The visions he was sent of the distorted face wearing his sire's skin, telling him of how good A'kiva would taste, no, telling him of how beautiful of a host he'd make for a voidsent, nay, how beautiful of a servant he'd be... He shivers and clings to Svan tightly.

"You are safe here," Svangeir swears. "He will have to get through Diajik's wards, and we are not to move for a time. I will ask him and Inxli if there is ought we can do to protect you from him." He nuzzles A'kiva and holds him tighter. "You are mine. And I am not willing to share."

A'kiva takes those words, cements them into his mind. Buries them deep within his heart and utters them quietly where no one can hear as fervent as a prayer to the Twelve. There is no other option. He has to believe.

[thechroniclesofhriddick]

Njala slips into the tent and is welcomed to the sight of her only child curled with his mate and daughter. And as lovely as the sight is, her eyes are only on her son.

She approaches silently and is pleased to see he has not stirred at all in his slumber even as she runs her hand through his hair like she did when he was small. She smiles as he nuzzles into her touch as he did as a babe.

Her mate, she knows, does not understand this relationship of theirs. Does not approve of it. Njala however would not have it any other way. They are close for their peoples. And she loves it that way. Would not wish to be so distant from him.

His sire was the first and only male to find her worthy to have a child. And oh how she wanted one! And little Svangeir was born. And he was little. With a tail and black hair that no one knew where it had come from they suspected he would die within days. She had abstain from naming him because of it. She was told to not get attached.

But he ate well. He kept her milk down. He was fussy for her scent but otherwise healthy. And so after the fourth day since his birth she named him. The name was odd. It was distinctly male, but she knew he would be her son.

The village believed she coddled him. And perhaps in some ways she did. But her son was different. His hair was dark, darker than even hers and he was mocked horribly for it. Even worse though, they had tried to mess with his tail. And she put a stop to that pointing out it would be no different, is no different than anyone pulling on his ears or requesting them removed.

She was his only friend. Her mate wanted nothing to do with him and told her daughters as such. The rest of the village like wise. She remembers holding him as he cried, frustrated at being so outcasted. And she understood. She was too.

She gave him hope: he was male and in some years time he would leave and be accepted as he was with the warders. And she held him through that sadness, at leaving her behind.

He grew of course and she remembers the shy boy who hesitantly walked away and came back years later a more confident man. And looking down at him now, seeing him with his daughter and mate she can't help but be proud. For his mate, his daughter, he'd give up anything. And that is the little boy she raised.

"There is room on the bed." She blinks and notices one green eye, her green eye, looking up at her. He must've felt eyes on him and woke.

"So there is." She pauses for a moment and then climbs in with the rest of them.

She hurt him deeply with her decision, but she will not take it back. She loved her son and wanted him to live. He hurt her deeply with his words, his belief that she would forsake him.  But that he was hurt at all is testament to how close they are. And she would not change that.

They will mend this. It will just take time.