#i do really think that zephia is her own enemy before anyone else is hers but for her to reckon fully with this is... hard

[ruinakete]

hc + vengeance

WORD HEADCANONS & DRABBLE ・ accepting! ( word count challenge beneath the readmore; 500 goal; 507 reached! content warnings; mentions / implications of engage spoilers; mass murder; attempted suicide(s); suicidal thoughts; self-harm! )

to wrong zephia takes a grand amount of strength; a feat, really. this is not because she makes herself impeachable, as there's no doubt that the cracks in her image are visible. however, it's because most that attempt to wrong her are disposed of the moment she realizes their intent. instead, i think the main aggressor in her mind━━━the main person she once wanted vengeance against-was herself. not many wrongs have been dealt against her, and the one with the greatest impact was the one she committed by herself.

vengeance is not a sweet thing, to zephia. when her magic swelled from her dragonstone and tore down the walls of her home, setting both friend and kin aflame, her first reaction had been to condemn herself to a fate alike theirs. to destroy her dragonstone would be to kill the part of her that only brought grief. to destroy herself would be to kill the part of her that brought disappointment. thus, for centuries, she tried to take her life, failing each time, over and over again until sombron directed her rage towards the wrongful acts of mankind and those divine.

currently, zephia is not sure whether or not she seeks retribution from alear for burying her under her lava and stone. because, yes, though the divine dragon had killed her, had she not been the one to push the stone of fate rolling? should she not be the one punished for condemning griss to a death that belonged only to her?

for now, as she ponders what became of her past life and this second chance at breathing wholly, she will punish alear for ever thinking she could rid herself of a hound. for now, as she comes to the realization that her longed-for family does not need to come from her womb, she will punish griss for his reverence in her as a goddess and household head.

WAILING SHOOK THE WITHERED TREES OF THEIR SNOW, echoing through the mountains that once belonged to the heart of this dragon, heard above the crackling of flames and snapping of wood as it came to rest. and this mage dragon━━━poor, poor girl. useless, useless daughter━━━clawed at her skin as she trembled and shook violently, heaving in the smoke of her parents and tearing the evidence of failure from her body. o' divine one, she pleaded, she bemoaned, wake me from this night terror. pull me from the duvet of mama's bed and let her live to scold my laziness. remind me that i am not a ruination. but the last night terror she had was as a babe━━━centuries ago, cradled in her mother's arms. "divine..." she gasped, hiccupping and choking on each breath she took in, pitiful as she looked to her parents' guardians to forsake her, "divine... oh god... i didn't mean to! i... i didn't mean to kill them! i... oh divine, my.... i'm useless━━━i'm sorry, i'm so sorry!" another tremor shook her body, knocking her to her knees in the snow and ash, staining her carmine-dirty robes that her mother would not be able to wash. the thought of it━━━sangria eyes led astray to the limp hand some meters away━━━sent her into another fit of panic. the crux of her wails nearly silenced by the thrum of her heart, the glowing steadiness of... no. mage dragon rose her head, her gaze blurry with tears and face smudged with soot. the grief in the air was palpable, cut only by a frigid wind or two, and interrupted, constantly, by the thrum of a heart. it had been easy to find; stuck in the snow, tucked away as though it had no hand in what became of her. no. when she had lunged for the dragonstone, her body had not been ready for the abrupt action. she met snow, first, splayed across carmine and gray, but she scrambled despite the ache between her eyes━━━above her head, the weight of her horns was unbalanced, as though one had broken off a piece of itself just as she had. the moment her claws closed around the stone, she raised it in the air and brought it back down. the rocks beneath it shook, but the stone remained aglow. so, she slammed it down again and again and again and again until her hand met the rocks instead of the dragonstone that fell to her lap. skin split apart and bled, but it would not match the amount of her tribe's. thus, her adrenaline softened into fatigue, slowing her momentum and swaying her as she kneeled. it had not taken long for the mage dragon to slump over, shoulders trembling still as her arms curled to hug her stomach. useless, she was. stupid, foolish girl. utterly immovable despite the sorrow that racked through her body, curled over the dragonstone in her lap; the last of its kind, a reminder of what she could not be and would never become.

[twistedisciple]

@melusinezephyr

"Pfft, I am not perfectly strong, dear Griss. Even I of all people can fumble sometimes." She sighs, glances around the painfully bright academy. Zephia has never lived somewhere so full of light before. Gradlon had always seemed to have dark clouds over it, even before she had known Lord Sombron, craggy and mountainous around Lythos, without much sunlight ever seeming to touch such a land. And Elusia had not been much better, always so dim and snowy. The academy seems like a paradise itself in such an aspect to her. Not that it was a paradise that she belonged in, though. She was working with the very people that everyone here would surely call an enemy after all, even if it was solely for her own personal gain, for Lord Sombron. "Oh, why I became a teacher? I feel as though that should be simple enough to figure out, even for you, darling." She laughs, shrill against the peaceful nature of the academy. Griss is right, it is entirely unlike her. She could have chosen to do anything else, perhaps she and her loyalty in the face of battle would have been better suited the Knights, but even if it was a ruse, she couldn't help but admit that her heart had stirred a little at the idea of being able to pass down her millienia of knowledge down to such fresh minds as the students here at the academy. "It makes for good cover, but having such bright young things around does often make me feel like I would be anywhere else." What she would give to be back by Lord Sombron's side again, to serve him rather than some faceless archbishop that she hadn't even met yet. How annoying. And she did so hate annoying things. "Your determination to remain by me, though, does convince me to stick around for a little bit longer. You may be far from anyone else's idea of a good kid, but you are a good kid to me. Please do continue in that determination, my dear remaining Hound." For what would she ever do if all of the little family she had been able to find left her forever? She could not be left alone. It simply wouldn't do. She couldn't be all alone again.

Griss turns his frown on Zephia's teasing, lip curling with an indignant snort. "I'm gonna ignore that little joke. But, fine, I'll take a guess: you're lookin' for another family. Plenty of kids to mother around here."

Words always did come out faster than his mind could catch them, and when he hears what he's just said, they sink like a stone into the pit of his stomach where, truthfully, they should have stayed. Zephia had called the Four Hounds her family, imperfections and misbehaving in all. Was it really that easy just to replace a family? Even for Griss, who had never really known his real parents to begin with, accepting anyone else to fill the position had taken him nearly twenty years. Even longer to actually say it out loud, to make it real.

But maybe kids were different. Lord Sombron certainly seemed to think they were expendable. And dragons lived so long anyway.

Whatever. That shouldn't bother him, and he writes the feeling off for an embarrassing byproduct of death. Because, really, who wouldn't gain a newfound appreciation for life and relationships after believing it was all going to be gone forever.

Fortunately, it was easy to redirect his attention, and he latches quickly onto Zephia's real answer. She proves that tiny sliver of doubt was unfounded, anyway, and he's more than happy to forget about it. It wasn't like him, and maybe he was the one getting soft.

"Good cover? For what?" he asks though her reasons don't really matter much to him. She says he's her last remaining Hound and it's weird, but he likes the sound of it. Sure, Marni and Mauvier could've made fine siblings, but there was something about being the right hand. The one Zephia could count on to stick with her, to get things done. "Just tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it."