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z-1-wolfe · 3 years

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Parhelion Headcanons (sir this is all for you) @greenbeany

Putting 'em under the cut because they got very long O.O

I- the gnome is Neon I take no criticism. They are often good-natured souls with a more mischievous side, and if that doesn’t describe Neon I’m not sure what does. Playful, funny, good intentions, that my good Bean is our lovable cat personified. Okay Parhelion dnd au with gnome Neon please /j.

I AM SMACKING THE GUN OUT OF YOUR HANDS [runs into a glass wall] dammit,, guess I gotta talk now

I- oh no,, time to fail the exam I guess (turns all your head canons upside down)

Okay they do sleep yes they do. Actually that’s a lie only Ciel sleeps, the other two are insomniacs. Ciel has all of her day to day life planned out to the minute, so she heads to bed at a certain time and wakes up at a certain time, the other two are more of a “we’ll sleep when we’re tired” kinda duo. Unfortunately due to Ilia’s night terrors and Neon’s ADHD they almost never rest. No they do not sleep in a SANE bed, ha why would they have a bed? They sleep in a hammock all tangled up with each other. It’s hard to tell what order they sleep in when they kinda curl into each other. They do not use a duvet, why have a duvet when Neon is a space heater? There are no pillows on the hammock X). OKAY THEIR ROOM, THIS I GOT, it’s a funky mess that is somehow organized thanks to Ciel. Ilia doesn’t own a lot in general but it was her life’s dream to paint her bedroom rainbow so guess what they have now. The other two are too soft and they supported her efforts and they love her despite her poor design sense XD.

I- why closet ASDFG I mean— No they do not share a closet they all have completely different fashion sense and if that was all in one place people would be genuinely terrified. But since they’re broke they had to make do with one walk in closet that they partitioned off into sections. YES THEY DO HAVE MATCHING OUTFITS THEY ARE SO CUTE LIKE THAT. They tend to be like those cute couple outfits with a few variations to match their own personal style. But their favorite matching outfit are these duck hoodies they own courtesy of once again Ilia living out her childhood dreams. No they don’t own many outfits because like I mentioned earlier they are broke x). Hmm thinking about each other’s styles… Ilia think both of her girlfriends have great taste, she loves the well, neon of Neon, and the prim and properness of Ciel. Neon just doesn’t care XD. And Ciel is just, she’s just standing there wishing she could help their fashion sense, but she holds back because “It does suit them in an odd way.” Ciel gets the most compliments on her style hands down, she looks organized and you can bet she saves money to buy outfits that actually accentuate her cuteness. They don’t wear makeup no time for that (in which you learn Z has little to no knowledge in how to apply makeup and doesn’t know how to answer that question)

OH OKAY I LOVE VIDDY GAMES. Ciel likes real-time strategy games because she’s insane and that’s literally all she knows in life thanks to being raised in an upper class family in Atlas. Neon likes open world games, something something she likes the chance for adventure and determining one’s fate for themself. Ilia has never once played a video game until after she defected from the White Fang but I can see her playing something light like Stardew Valley, low stakes kinda games. Hmm, they might play Animal Crossing together? Since it has aspects they all enjoy. They each have an individual switch (Ilia has a coral switch lite) and one shared PC. Okay game with most hours, maybe Minecraft? They still haven’t beat the enderdragon because Neon keeps getting distracted XD. Neon is the bomb at party games though, you can bet she has a perfect score on all the songs in Just Dance. Ciel is a sharpshooter, god knows who taught her how to shoot like that. The biggest splatoon fan is unfortunately not Neon it is Ilia, she loves all the colors in the game ^^. But she and Neon have wracked up quite a few hours in co-op.

Uhhh books!! Ilia likes fanfics :) it’s unfortunately one of the only ways for her to see positive representation of herself. Neon for some reason reads Epics?? Like her favorite is the Epic of Gilgamesh what is up with that?? Ciel reads webtoons :), she reads enough serious stuff for school work and such, she likes to just kick back and relax after all that. Yes they have schedules reading time courtesy of Ciel :). Uhh, they relax by baking together. None of them had many chances to indulge in sweets while growing up so they make full use of their time now. ?? SPOON?? Cuddle hours happen on a whim, the one thing that Ciel can never schedule because she never knows when it’ll occur. They relax the most in the kitchen x) because that’s where they bake, it’s not unusual to find Neon asleep on the counter while she waits for their sweets to rise. They read in the light, Neon is afraid that by reading in the dark that they’ll all ruin their eyesight. Ciel likes the sunrise because she’s up the earliest and is the only one to see it, the other two prefer sunset because that’s usually when their day is about to begin XD.

Favorite spot for dates! The park ^^, they like to go on picnic dates with all their baked goods. There is no plan, usually one of them will randomly pull the other two out of the house because they haven’t touched grass in a while XD. There are no ideas, they share one braincell and they spend too much time doting on each other to use it. Uhm favorite movie genre,,, they like comedy movies :). Their favorite place to eat is this tiny store on the corner of their street that makes mean gyros, they heccin’ love them. Coping with horror, Ilia is desensitized to horror because of the things she’s seen in life, Neon treats it like a game because she knows it’s not real, Ciel, is okay with it, but she gets shook more easily than the other two and they often have to reassure her. No they do not like theme parks, there are too many people around for Ilia and Ciel and Neon respects their boundaries so they tend to go to more quiet places. Uhm heights, Ciel is used to heights because she’s friends with Penny and woah can that girl toss her in the air like she’s a couple of grapes. Ilia doesn’t mind heights but she would prefer to have her feet on the ground. Neon loves the ground so damn much if it leaves her she will cry because man she can’t roller-skate in the air can she, what will she do if the ground is suddenly gone? They like evening dates because it’s normally the only time all three of them are awake enough for it XD. They end a night by sleeping I am not quite sure if there are other ways to end it lmao. They absolutely despise Neon’s roller skating dates but they love how excited she gets about them so they end up becoming as good as professional roller skaters because the smile on Neon’s face when they join her is dazzling.

I am slowly going insane. Yes each girl has a hobby I sure hope they do. Ilia knits, Ciel paints, and Neon writes. I would like to imagine that Ciel would try to schedule time for their hobbies she ends up giving up because all their sleep schedules are wack. Designated chef is Neon (probably made food for FNKI back in atlas), designated driver is Ilia (I mean I like to imagine she stole cars and stuff in the White Fang XD), designated decorator for stuff is normally Ciel though Neon does try to hijack a few of her plans occasionally, designated shopper is Ciel because the other two have no concept of Saving money, and they all work together to clean :). They don’t work together, they believe in keeping their work life and home life separate to prevent their feelings from getting in the way. They do not have pets, none of them have the energy or responsibility to do that, but Ilia did once bring a moose home one day for some reason.

I am nomming on your arm sir. Ilia and Neon get along with Penny surprisingly well, though I do think Ilia would get along with Weiss better? Ruby and Weiss look at Ciel and see a beacon arc Weiss and more or less adopt her despite Ciel being older than the two of them. They might like.. play board games together? Like some of those more team based board games I can’t think of anything off the top of my head, may the best polycule win. I cannot see them in a cuddle puddle to be honest ajcnjsanjs I am so sorry— hmm Ruby and Neon do not know the meaning of formal, as far as they are concerned these are their girlfriend’s friends and that means that by extension these are their friends. Weiss would like nothing to do with Neon after Neon insults Yang during the Vytal festival but she begrudgingly goes on outings with her and hey, now they’re make up buddies for some reason. The parhelion gals take the fs gals to the gyro place they like :). Parhelion gang Is a lot more vocal on their dates because their love language happens to be words of affirmation while the fs gang’s happen to be physical touch. Both polycules are very very affectionate though I will die on this hill.

DARN IT TUMBLR ONLY LETS ME HAVE 10 IMAGES PER POST THIS IS FINE IT WAS JUST ONE MORE PROMPT DARN IT

(Parhelion angst! How do Neon and Ciel react to the news about the dust mine? How do they find out about Ilia getting expelled? Do they find out about the white fang? Is there any faunus stigma afterwards? How does Ciel react to people bullying her Faunus GFS? Does Neon talk to Ciel much after? Do they ever reunite? Does Neon attempt to help Ciel while she grieves Penny? Where the fuck is Ciel now? Is Neon still alive? Does Ilia ever think about them? Does Blake know about them from Ilia?)

BUDDY I CAME TO THE LAST ASK AND NOW ONLY DID I REALIZE YOU MEANT PARHELION BACK WHEN THEY WHERE IN BEACON THIS WHOLE TIME I’M CRYING. (This ask is answered under the assumption that they are already dating back in Atlas Academy) Ciel is fiercely protective of her girlfriends, though people only know that Neon is a Faunus because Ilia masks her traits during her time at the academy. Neon and Ciel are horrified about the news about the dust mines. They know that Ilia is a Faunus and that her parents were working there so they rush to see her as soon as possible. But they’re too late,,, Ilia’s already been expelled for attacking her fellow students. They don’t hear from Ilia for a few years after that and the two slowly drift apart, each blaming the other for not getting to Ilia soon enough. They don’t find out about the White Fang until they reunite with Ilia unfortunately, but they feel sad that Ilia had felt that they only way for her to get revenge for her parents was by joining a militant group (I’m working under the assumption that Sienna only took control of the White Fang shortly before Ilia joined). When Neon learns that Penny didn’t make it after the Fall of Beacon she hesitantly reaches out to Ciel for the first time in a year, and she does try to help. But for Ciel it’s blow after heccin’ blow and she pushes Neon away in a rage. Ciel leaves the Academy after that and goes rogue, working as a huntsman without a license for the poorer parts of remnant. Ilia is unaware of all this drama during the Beacon arc. The next time she hears of any news is during the Fall of Atlas, and she’s scared, scared because she’s still recovering and she just heard Ruby announce to the world that Remnant is under attack, and oh my gosh her ex girlfriends live in Atlas. Neon makes it out alive, though not entirely in one piece, she now has a prosthetic leg. Ilia is the first person to see her, it’s a tearful reunion and they haven’t fully made up yet, but hey it’s a work in progress, now they just have to find out where Ciel is, but when they do they’ll BOTH be there to greet her. Blake has no idea who the fuck Ciel and Neon are lmao, Ilia never told her anything about her past romances when she was in the White Fang.

Oh gosh I think that's it-- And that is it thank you for listening to me ramble about Parhelion you get a juice box for making it this far. Sir I am sincerely sorry for turning your ship upside down please forgive me.

#parhelion #ilia amitola #ciel soleil #neon katt #I have been typing for an eternity n' a half...#I swear I have essays for school that are a fraction of this post #2172 words of pure headcanon you are welcome sir #I hope you'll enjoy it when ya wake up sjancjkack #[runs]#zenta writes

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writerfae · 3 years

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What is your favorite thing about each of your OCs?

Ohhh good question.

My favorite thing about Aiden is his good heart. Boy can be awkward and somewhat grumpy but he’s a good guy. Stays for a tea at his customer’s place because the old lady has no one else who talks with her kind of good. Helps a person he just met because they seemed like they were in trouble kind of good. And I love him for that because I long to see such kindness in the world.

About Halea I like how she’s always in a good mood and can easily befriend everyone that crosses her way. I wish I could be like that, maybe that’s why I like it about her. Writing her always cheers me up, she makes me smile with her positive attitude.

My favorite thing about Talon is how he stole his way into my heart because at first when I came up with him I didn’t like him at all and now he’s one of my most thought out and also favorite ocs. He showed me that with some time and care, a character can grow into something you never expected them to be.

Maya is the character i can relate to the most and that’s what I like best about her. That feeling of seeing yourself in a character - seeing that character has struggled in their life but grown from it - it really makes you think different about yourself a bit. Especially if it’s your own oc holding up a mirror.

Henry is my comfort character. I love everything about him, but as strange as it seems my favorite thing about him - beside him being a great brother - are his flaws. He’s a good person, but he’s not perfect. There was a time he thought he has to be, but with time he learned that that’s not true. You can’t always be the perfect person you want to be. I think this acceptance is something so important also to me personally. And if I can love his flaws, maybe I can learn to love mine as well.

As for Callan, my favorite thing about him is his whole design and personality actually, not just because it’s nice but mainly because it was inspired by so many old oc ideas that are dear to me. He’s a lovely mixture of two of my favorite video game ocs, an oc of an abandoned story idea I liked to daydream of and many tiny character tropes I adore. All those characters that meant a lot to me merged and became Callan and it kinda makes him unique to me. Also he’s really dear to my heart and I love his relationship with Henry. It pretty much brings out the romantic in me.

(I’m gonna stop here because if I were to talk about all my other ocs i would still write on this ask till the sun sets again tomorrow xD)

#this turned out… somewhat deeper than I thought it would #thank you so much for the ask! :)#writer speaks #writeblr #wip: the knights of the alder #also this is probably a hundred percent beside the point of your ask and if it was I’m sorry 🙈#but this really made me feel good so thank you ^^

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carewyncromwell · 4 years

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Cinderelly, Cinderelly, night and day, it’s Cinderelly~... ^.^ Okay..before I jump into the next part of the Cinderella AU, here’s your usual appetizer of random historical/etc. notes!

Although carriages were developed centuries earlier, actual coaches like the kind we think of from Cinderella stories were first developed in the late 16th century in Hungary, specifically a little town called Kocs. (The word “coach” and its alternatives in other languages, such as the German Kutsche and the Spanish and Portuguese coche, are thought to have been derived from the Hungarian kocsi, meaning “of Kocs.”) They then really caught on in the rest of Europe after Queen Elizabeth I of England started using them in the 1580s. The terms “coach” and “carriage” are often used interchangeably, but if one wanted to pin-point the advancements coaches specifically made in contrast to carriages of the past, there are a few differences one can pick out in how they’re built. Coaches generally are four-wheeled enclosed vehicles with doors and/or windows (glass was added in later centuries), and often include a “boot” seat on the outside for a footman and/or luggage to sit on. Coaches also generally have a reputation for providing a smoother ride than previous modes of transport because they’re suspended between the wheels rather than directly over or beside them. After the invention of the coach, one can find carriages (royal ones, in particular) adopting some of these same attributes.

Sadly wheelchairs really weren’t a thing in the 16th century. The first self-propelled wheeled chairs were developed in the mid-17th century and refined in the 18th, with sedan chairs or litters (A.K.A. chairs you carried) generally being used by the nobility prior to that. But there’s no way in Hell I’m not going to give McNully the independence he deserves, so I used a completely anachronistic design inspired by this antique wheelchair I found online, made circa around the 1840′s. Hey, this is a fantasy world anyway, so bleh. :P The flower detailing on the wheel is supposed to evoke an emblem I see being on Florence’s green and gold coat of arms (get it? “Florence?” “Flora?”). You might also notice that McNully has little Snitch-like “wing” frills on each of his buttons! XD

Another fun thing I learned while doing research -- although cloaks were often worn for warmth during the medieval period and beyond, in England during the Elizabethan era, their use was actually actively discouraged and even prohibited, as they were associated with criminals and rebels! Therefore it was common for a lot of English noblemen and women to wear thicker clothing made of wool and accessories like muffs, gloves, and even jackets for warmth instead. I tried very, very hard to find historically accurate examples of period-worthy jackets and capes for women around the time of the Renaissance, and was very frustrated to find a lot of fantasy-esque costume pieces or historical clothing from later eras that were simply mislabeled -- but I did find one lovely recreation of a 16th century wool jacket, so that’s what I used as reference for Carewyn’s jacket in this sketch, though I personally imagine it as a dark red, so as to better blend with her burnt orange and beige servant’s uniform. Bill’s uniform is based off a real castle guard uniform from early 16th century France, though with a much simpler color palette (I see Royaume’s colors being blue and red). Like with McNully’s chair, there’s a crown on the chest of Bill’s uniform, which I see being on Royaume’s coat of arms (“royaume” is literally French for “kingdom”).

In her canon, Carewyn was born when Jacob was nine years old. Although in most of Carewyn and Jacob’s canon post-Portrait-Vault, they end up being only two years apart in age, that’s only because Jacob stopped aging while trapped in a Portrait for seven years. From Carewyn’s fifth year on, Jacob and Carewyn in canon therefore act much more like contemporaries, even though Jacob actually kind of ended up partially raising Carewyn alongside their mother Lane.

Previous part is here – whole tag is here – Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee and I hope you all enjoy! xoxo

x~x~x~x

Every day over the next week, Carewyn met Orion at the gate of the palace of Royaume, and the two would spend an hour or so together. Orion would ask her about life at the palace, Carewyn would playfully respond, and sooner or later, they’d end up getting diverted and talking about something else completely, whether the upcoming Winter Festival, the language of flowers, art, poetry, the meaning of life, music, fencing, or (after seeing a rather beautiful eagle flying overhead) what it might be like to fly. Carewyn honestly wasn’t entirely sure what Orion got out of their meetings besides entertainment, and naturally she couldn’t afford to indulge in such entertainment too long, when she had so much work to do around the castle and she still had to find out where Jacob was positioned. But she had to admit, with the King and Queen having invited Iris over to stay in one of the guest suites at the palace for the remainder of the month, Carewyn didn’t mind having an excuse to stay far away from her cousin. Lately Carewyn had actively planned her days so that she could clean the guest suites at teatime, when Iris would be in one of the foyers with the King, Queen, and Prince on the opposite side of the palace. She did not want a repeat of the other day, after all...particularly since she’d also need time to change out of the nicer, collared dresses she’d wear when spending time with Orion.

Orion, meanwhile, was of course getting a bit more than entertainment out of his and Carewyn’s meetings. Through speaking with Carewyn, he’d sussed out some very helpful information about Royaumanian culture, the dynamics within Royaume’s royal family, and both their and their country’s financial state. One day he told his closest confidantes at court, Skye and McNully, some of what he’d learned...but Skye didn’t react quite as favorably as Orion had expected.

“...I gave Lady Cromwell a copy of the sheet music for ‘No One is Alone’ last week -- you remember the song, of course? And from what I understand, Prince Henri and the castle staff have quite taken to it. Not that I’m surprised -- Carewyn has a very soothing voice. I’m sure she performed it very well. But the Prince listening to the words at all is a good sign -- I even asked Carewyn if the Prince enjoyed them, and she said she believed so. She also found their message meaningful...one of Florence’s best-loved anti-War songs, and one about looking through another’s eyes and forgiving past grievances, no less! That can only be a good sign, for Royaumanians to take heart in it. It surely must have been fate that Lady Cromwell and I collided at the market -- I had a feeling we were kindred spirits, when she came to my aid, but now I am most assured of it. I might hazard a guess that she wishes for peace just as much as I -- for the sake of her brother fighting in the field, yes, but also selflessly for the sake of others, not wishing to see any other person in pain...”

“She sounds like a perfect knight in shining armor,” said Skye, her voice oddly cutting.

Orion looked up at Skye, startled by her tone. Her arms were crossed over the chest of her faded blue linen dress.

“Anything else you want to tell us about the fair Lady Cromwell,” she said rather icily, “or are you actually ready to talk about how you plan to end this War?”

Orion blinked slowly. “...I thought that we were already discussing that.”

“Really?” scoffed Skye. “‘Cause it sounds to me like you were busy gushing over your new conquest.”

“Conquest?” Orion repeated. His confused tone then melted into something more soothing and indulgent, “Oh -- no, Skye...you misunderstand me. I have no interest in courting Carewyn -- she’s just my contact point, with the palace.”

Skye gave a very loud, disbelieving snort. “Ha! Right, of course she is -- that’s why you can’t stop gushing about ‘Carewyn this’ and ‘Lady Cromwell that.’”

“Skye has a point, Orion,” said McNully, though his voice was a lot less confrontational. If anything he sounded almost sheepish. “I mean, about 85% of your report was about Lady Cromwell. You used her name over ten times just in the span of a minute.”

Amazingly Orion’s calm, hard-to-read expression didn’t crack. His hands clasped lightly in front of him.

“Lady Cromwell plays an essential part in this strategy. I’m an outsider looking in, without her insight -- a ship sailing blindly, without the light from a lighthouse to give me direction.”

“A lighthouse for a lost ship -- oh yeah, those sound like the words of someone who’s focusing on winning a war and not swooning over a pretty face,” said Skye scathingly. “Maybe instead of always running off and playing dress-up, you could actually bother to do your duty and go help fight on the battlefield for once!”

Orion’s lips came together tightly, but it didn’t make his expression any less composed. McNully shot Skye an uncomfortable, faintly disapproving look.

“Easy, Skye,” he murmured. “You know Orion -- ”

But Skye didn’t seem to hear McNully. Instead she tore into Orion.

“Face it, Orion -- you just like being treated like a commoner again and being able to make believe that you don’t have any responsibilities or worries...well, guess what? You’re not a commoner anymore! You’re the Prince of Florence -- you reckon little Miss Knight-in-Shining-Armor would take kindly to that, when she finds out?”

Orion’s dark eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon Skye’s face.

“Carewyn’s not an unreasonable woman,” he said softly. “I’m certain she would understand the reason behind my secrecy.”

This, if anything, only seemed to make Skye madder.

“Of course she would,” she muttered sourly. “Little Lady Royaume can do no wrong in your eyes, can she?”

She turned on her heel and stormed out, leaving Orion feeling very resigned and confused. McNully gave a heavy sigh, before facing Orion with a more serious expression.

“She’s overreacting, as usual,” he said, “but she’s still 60% right. It’s risky enough for you to get this close to anyone right now, when your position as Crown Prince is threatened by the likes of Lord Malfoy. He’d frankly love to have something like that over you. But someone from Royaume? The granddaughter of one of the most powerful, wealthy, and feared noblemen in their country? Orion, that’s dangerous.”

Orion leaned his hands on the table, looking down at the map of Florence and Royaume laid out on top of it.

“McNully, I assure you...my objective has not changed,” he said very levelly. “Everything I have done is for Florence -- for peace and balance. I admit, Lady Cromwell is a fascinating woman, and certainly one to be admired...but I spend time with her to gather intelligence I can obtain nowhere else. That is all.”

McNully looked doubtful, but didn’t directly address it. Instead he said, “I understand she’s your eyes and ears inside the palace, and the intelligence you’re getting is valuable...but don’t forget, she isn’t on your team. She’s on Royaume’s. And right now, Royaume is kicking our tail out there, on the battlefield.”

Orion’s dark eyes drifted away from the table as McNully leaned his arms on the table himself.

“It’s getting bad again,” he murmured very seriously. “I know you said the palace of Royaume’s strapped for funds, but somehow or another, they’ve scrounged up enough to get more cannons, and their troops have been moving them around every couple of hours so that our men never know where they’re going to be firing from next. It’s been very effective. Whoever’s been giving Royaume’s King and Queen military strategy lately, they’re a bloody genius.”

McNully clearly was irritated about this, given the flash that shot through his narrowed eyes.

“Your father sent me a request for a counter-strategy this morning. You know it’s likely if the strategy isn’t one he can execute on his own, he may ask both you and me to join him there, on the front lines.”

Orion did not respond. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but there was something oddly detached and avoidant in his posture.

“I know you don’t want that, and you know I have faith in you,” said McNully, “but your strategy is a slow burn, Orion. It requires both patience and time...and we might not end up having as much of those as you think.”

Once again, Orion chose not to answer. McNully sighed again.

“You know I’ll be right behind you in a coach, if you need me,” he said tiredly. “Just...mind that you use your head as well as your heart, all right?”

Orion threw on his black traveling cloak and headed back to Royaume not long after, hoping to meet up with Carewyn for an evening stroll. There was a notable chill in the air -- if it got much colder, he thought that any rain might instead come down as sleet or maybe even snow.

When Orion arrived at the gate, however, he was met not by Carewyn, but by KC. She was dressed in a high-necked gown made of black velvet and holding a leather-bound book and a stack of parchment in her arms.

Orion tilted his head slightly to glance at the piece of parchment on the top of the stack, which had several “X’s” scattered over an oddly familiar map.

“Plans to bury some pirate treasure?” he asked pleasantly.

KC gave a lightly amused snort. “No, just military plans.”

Her lightly freckled face then grew a bit more serious. “I guess you’re here for Carewyn?”

Orion had been ready to ask more about the military plans KC was holding, but decided not to circle back to it when she changed the subject.

“Yes. Has she been detained?”

“I guess so...” said KC. Her lips twisted into a concerned frown as she looked out at the darkening sky.

Orion’s eyebrows knit together over his eyes slightly. “You seem concerned.”

KC bit her lip. “Mm...it’s just...well, you see, one of the royal carriages broke down earlier today, when the Queen was riding through the country with Lady Yaxley.”

Orion raised his eyebrows. “Lady Iris Yaxley, do you mean? Carewyn’s cousin?”

“Yes. No one was badly hurt, fortunately, but the Queen, Lady Iris, and the coachman and footman were forced to ride the horses back and leave the carriage behind. When they got back, they asked the royal carpenter, Charlie Weasley, to go fix it. Charlie said that he probably wouldn’t have the proper tools to fix it here at the castle, so Carewyn offered to ride out with him, so that their horses could drag the coach together to the Weasley family cottage, about forty minutes away. The problem is,” she said with a deepening frown, “they left over two hours ago, and they’re still not back yet. Bill headed out after them on his own horse not long before you got here...he’s Charlie’s brother, so he knows the route they would’ve taken...”

Orion’s dark eyes had narrowed significantly.

“Which road did Sir Weasley take after them?” he asked, his calm voice nonetheless touched with the faintest edge.

KC pointed. “Northwest -- toward the mountains.”

Orion nodded. “Thank you.”

And with this, he turned on his heel and rushed back toward where he thought he might find McNully’s coach. He needed to borrow a horse.

Setting one of the black horses free of the black coach, Orion rode off toward the mountains, his slightly-too-long dark hair flapping freely behind him. The road was well-marked, but it soon veered off into dense woods as it migrated up toward the mountains. Orion had never gone so far west into Royaume before, let alone far from Florence before. Despite himself, he had to acknowledge the beauty of the landscape. The views of the castle below were breathtaking -- it looked as tiny as a toy, and yet the infinite glass windows made it sparkle like some diamond-like beacon in the darkening sky. He wondered if his own palace in Florence looked so beautiful to others, at a distance. As much as he himself hadn’t been raised a prince, it was difficult for him to look at his own palace as anything other than a cage.

As he went further uphill and the sky darkened, it also grew colder. Orion was starting to see his own breath on the air. He thought of Carewyn alone in the cold, perhaps hurt, and had to take several deep breaths to sooth his nerves. He was never in a right state, when he let his thoughts run too wild or his fears chatter too loudly.

Finally Orion caught sight of two familiar ginger-headed men, standing by an overturned coach, covered in mud and missing one of its back wheels. One of the men was the tall, freckled castle guard from the other day who Carewyn called Bill, dressed in his high-collared blue and red patterned uniform tunic and matching white feathered, blue-velvet hat -- the other was much stockier, but no less freckled, dressed in a burgundy-colored tunic and loose brown pants and boots, and he wore his ginger hair in a ponytail not unlike Orion’s when he was at court. When Orion approached them, Bill immediately reacted with suspicion -- Orion explained what KC had told him and asked where Carewyn was, and was incredibly startled to hear her voice coming from over the edge of the cliff.

“I’m down here!”

Orion couldn’t help but feel a flash of concern. He raced over as if to look over the edge, but Charlie lashed out an arm in front of the taller man to stop him.

“Uh, I wouldn’t look over if I were you, mate,” he said, having trouble biting back his laughter despite himself.

He pointed at the broken carriage. Hanging over one of the doors was what looked like the burnt orange and beige skirt of a dress and several wool petticoats.

Orion blinked a few times in great surprise, his tanned cheeks darkening with a faint blush. Bill, however, reacted with anxiety.

“Carewyn!” he shouted over the ravine. “Are you in your underwear down there!?”

“Ugh -- well, I couldn’t very well climb down into this briar patch and wrench this wheel loose in my dress, could I?” Carewyn called back up rather haughtily. “At least my bloomers are slightly akin to the sorts of trousers you all wear.”

“You’ll catch a death of cold out here!” said Bill.

“I’m all right,” Carewyn reassured him. “Ulk -- ugh -- I have the wool jacket Andre made for me on...”

Charlie took a step forward, his eyes moved up toward the darkening sky pointedly so as not to look over the edge as he called down,

“Bill’s right, though, Carewyn -- it’s getting colder by the minute...and it’s getting dark too. Are you sure you can lift that thing up and over all by yourself?”

“Ugh...I admit, it’s a bit difficult!” she called back. “But I think I can manage.”

Recalling Carewyn’s blatant refusal of help in retrieving her horse, Orion -- still fighting back a slight blush -- called over the ravine himself.

“We do not question your capabilities, Carewyn,” he said patiently, “but would you like our help?”

“Ugh -- don’t be silly,” said Carewyn, sounding faintly haughty. “You, Charlie, and Bill would break your necks, climbing down here. And I’m still in my undergarments -- I have no interest in anyone seeing me prance around without proper clothes on, thank you.”

“It’s no use,” Charlie muttered under his breath, “I’ve tried to offer her help for the last hour, but she keeps putting me off, saying she’s fine. I don’t get why she feels like she has to do everything by herself...”

“Probably because she’s always had to, Charlie,” said Bill quietly. His voice betrayed a lot of sympathy and sadness as he exhaled through his nose.

Orion’s black eyes deepened with some compassion for Bill as he called back over the ravine to Carewyn,

“Your points are well made, my lady...but we’d still like to help you.”

“Ugh -- you can help me by leaving me my dignity and not looking over while I’m only half-dressed...ack...”

“Would you accept us doing more than that?”

“Urgh -- I am...sorry to have made you and Bill come out all this way -- but I’m all right, really.”

Bill glanced at Orion out the side of his eye, and then back at the cliff. Despite his distrust of the man, the eldest Weasley was sort of glad he wasn’t the only one who disliked how reticent Carewyn was to accept help.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said earnestly. “I was -- we were worried about you, Carewyn. You and Charlie.”

He and Orion glanced at each other. Bill wished the other man’s expression wasn’t so hard to read. The castle guard tried to twist his uncomfortable frown into a smile that Carewyn would hopefully be able to hear over the edge of the cliff.

“Come on...let’s get you and that wheel up and over so you can get back into your dress.”

There was a silence. Then Carewyn said a bit more quietly,

“...You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Wha -- oh, come off it, Carewyn!” said Charlie exasperatedly. “To hell we do! You think I was mucking about, calling you my pal and saying I needed to figure out a nickname for you? Now let us help you, or I’ll consider making that nickname an irritating one!”

There was another silence. Then Carewyn sighed very loudly and tiredly, and Orion couldn’t help but grin, because he could tell she’d finally given in.

“Oh, all right,” she said begrudgingly. “But I don’t really know how you’re going to help, when you can’t look at me.”

Orion closed his eyes.

“Describe your surroundings, Carewyn,” he said. “Paint a picture for me, with your words.”

“...Well, I’ve gotten the wheel out of the briar patch. I’m trying to roll it back up, but it’s as large as me, and the downward slope and the ice is making it difficult. Plus the wheel isn’t in great shape -- all of its spokes are broken, so there isn’t much for me to push up on, while rolling it uphill.”

“I would’ve told her to just forget it, but it’d be much easier for me to carve a new wheel if I have framework from the old one,” Charlie explained. “I’m already going to have to make the new spokes and hubcap completely out of wood instead of using any gold or metalwork, but it’s still going to take a lot of time...even more so if the old wheel framework can’t be saved...”

Orion considered the matter, visualizing the set-up down below on the inside of his eyelids. “...What’s left of the wheel...is it made of metal or wood?”

“Wood...but there seems to be some sort of metal lining around the rim, held on by nails.”

“That’d be for durability, I reckon,” said Charlie. “Wood alone would get chaffed badly on the ground, moving in a constant circle down cobblestones or over anything rocky.”

Orion opened his eyes and looked over the broken coach. His gaze lingered on the thick leather straps coming off of the front that no doubt would’ve attached it to their horses. Then he abruptly got up, rushing over to undo the straps from the carriage.

“What are you doing?” said Bill, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Orion quickly knotted the long, thick leather straps together with several complex-looking and strong knots.

“Carewyn,” he called over very calmly, “I’m going to lower this down to you -- use the buckle and loop it securely around the inside rim of the wheel, so that it’s tight. Give it a light tug when it’s secure.”

He blindly tossed one end of the rope made out of leather straps over the edge of the cliff. After a minute, he felt a light tug at the end.

“Gentlemen,” Orion murmured to the Weasleys, “I’ll need you to hold this, for just a moment. Carewyn,” he added, as Charlie and Bill both grabbed the end of the makeshift rope and he let go, “I’m going to need you to step onto the wheel yourself and hold on.”

“What?” said Carewyn. “Orion, you can’t lift both me and the wheel -- it’s far too much! I’ll climb up and out myself -- ”

“Not to worry, my lady -- none of us will be doing the lifting,” said Orion serenely.

He led both his black horse and Bill’s chestnut horse over by their reins, and -- taking the makeshift rope from Bill and Charlie again -- he looped the end under the straps of both his and Bill’s saddles. He gave several tugs at all of the connections to make sure they were tight and secure before mounting his horse.

“Sir Weasley, if you would assist me.”

Catching onto Orion’s idea at last, Bill rushed forward so he could jump up onto his own horse.

“Mr. Weasley, you may want to have your hands ready to help Carewyn climb out when she gets close to the top,” said Orion over his shoulder. “Sir Weasley, together now.”

With a lot of effort and strain, the two horses were able to lift Carewyn and the broken wheel up and out of the ravine. Once Carewyn was out, all three men averted their eyes so she could put her dress back on. Once she was suitably redressed in her orange-and-beige dress, snood, and dark scarlet wool jacket, she, Bill, and Orion helped Charlie secure some makeshift posts he’d carved out of some nearby tree branches under the broken coach so that their four horses could lift it up off the ground and help support it without its second back wheel. Then the four hobbled the coach up the mountain the rest of the way to the Weasley family cottage.

The home of the Weasley family, affectionately nicknamed “the Burrow,” was built up against the side of a hill. Attached to the house was a large farm with sprawling pastures and short, rustic wooden fences. Its roof had clearly been patched up multiple times over the years with whatever kind of wood was on hand, making it resemble a patchwork quilt.

When the group arrived, Bill and Charlie’s youngest sibling and only sister Ginny immediately ran out to greet them -- she’d seen them coming up over the horizon and was beyond thrilled to see that it was her eldest brothers. Bill and Charlie’s teenage brothers Percy, Fred, George, and Ron soon followed along after. Fred and George -- who were identical twins -- were quick to crow that Charlie had brought them an early birthday present (namely, the coach), and Percy scolded them that clearly it was for work and they should let it alone. Orion and Carewyn ended up staying back at a distance, both faintly baffled by the amount of warmth and noise emanating from the seven siblings as they chattered amongst themselves, constantly stepping on each other’s feet and interrupting what everyone else was saying. Neither of them had ever encountered a family quite like this before. When Bill and Charlie’s parents, Arthur and Molly Weasley, emerged from the house, however, Molly very quickly bustled every last one of them inside, including Orion and Carewyn.

“In you go, the lot of you,” she said in a forceful, but very warm tone of voice. “You all look like you need some supper-- ”

“Oh -- no, Mrs. Weasley,” said Carewyn very quickly, “I couldn’t impose -- ”

“Nonsense, dear!” said Molly, as she took Carewyn’s hands and led her inside. “Why, you’re positively freezing! To think, you came all the way out here without a proper muff for your hands...”

“I had to help Charlie with the carriage,” Carewyn said, her eyes drawn away awkwardly rather than looking at Molly, “I couldn’t hope to have my hands free, using a muff...”

“Then both of you should come inside and get warm,” said Arthur, startling Orion with an amiable clap on the back. “Any friend of Bill and Charlie’s is a friend of our family.”

Carewyn had never been the subject of such coddling and generosity before in her life. Her mother had always taught her to treat people with respect and compassion, of course, but she had been a soft-spoken and understated person, and their family life had always been very quiet. And of course at the Cromwell estate, it had been less modest and quiet, but far less affectionate as well. Never had she ever visited such a loud, crowded, and faintly uncomfortable place that still nonetheless felt like a home, full of warmth and love.

Even Orion found himself feeling a bit unsettled by the Weasley family’s overwhelming hospitality. He’d been in plenty of unruly, crowded, and loud settings like this before -- but none of them had ever been quite this...well, jovial. It made it so that Orion yearned for peace, quiet, and returned distance, and yet also couldn’t help but marvel at the positive vibes that rippled off of this family and how much they could give, despite clearly having so little. When dinner was served, Orion had to politely decline a bowl of beef stew because he didn’t eat meat, and Molly Weasley immediately handed the bowl off to Ron so she could set about making Orion his own plate, piled high with cheesy mashed potatoes, sauteed mushrooms, and roasted cauliflower seasoned with garlic and chives.

The Weasley family and their guests sat in an uncomfortable, messy half-circle around the large brick fireplace, laughing and talking as they ate. After supper came the dessert of hot, fresh apple dumplings, and after dessert came some hot tea and scones. After all, said Molly Weasley, having guests over was a rare treat, so they were going to celebrate appropriately. Neither Carewyn nor Orion could remember ever having felt so full in all their lives.

As everyone enjoyed their scones and tea, stories and songs were swapped around the fire. At one point in the evening, twelve-year-old Ginny -- who was perfectly thrilled to have another girl around, for a change -- begged Carewyn to sing for them. Apparently Bill had told his family all about her lovely voice. So, with some encouragement from Charlie, Arthur, and Molly, Carewyn bit back a broad, amused grin, took a deep breath, and started to sing.

“Mother cannot guide you...now you’re on your own.

Only me beside you -- still, you’re not alone...”

Orion had thought to himself that Carewyn must have done the song from his youth proper justice while singing for the Prince, but hearing her sing it in person, seeing her smile at him and her eyes sparkle as she did so...it was a completely different matter. As before, Orion felt all of the tension in his shoulders ebb off of him, as easily as dirt was washed away in warm water. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, tilting his head a bit so that he could hear her better, as his breathing and heart rate slowed. Even with his eyes closed, he could hear a smile in every word Carewyn sang...even when she likely wasn’t smiling at all, he thought. How could she be smiling, when lines like “sometimes people leave you half-way through the wood” and “people make mistakes -- fathers, mothers” rang with such emotion and pain? Was that pain visible on her face? Orion thought not, given Carewyn’s sense of grace and composure...but he heard it, all the same. He felt it -- her heart, aching with a kind of deep, blazing empathy Orion had never encountered in anyone else before.

When Carewyn came to the end of the song, Orion opened his eyes at last. The Weasleys all clapped, delighted, but he barely heard them as he turned to Carewyn.

“...That was remarkable,” he murmured.

Carewyn smiled. “I’m glad you think I did it justice.”

“Mm,” said Orion. “I’ve...never heard anyone drown like that, before.”

Carewyn couldn’t bite back a laugh. “Perhaps I didn’t do it justice then, if I sounded like I was drowning...”

“You were drowning in the words’ meaning,” corrected Orion. “Enveloping and submerging yourself in them -- allowing them to pull you in and take your breath away.”

He smiled, his black eyes very soft upon Carewyn’s face.

“It was...very moving.”

Molly’s face spread into an indulgent smile as she reached forward and patted Carewyn’s hand. “It was absolutely beautiful, dear.”

“Orion’s right, Carewyn,” agreed Arthur. “Your feelings really came through. I could tell the words mean something to you.”

Carewyn offered a polite smile, even as her eyes drifted away. “...I suppose they do.”

“It sounds like a lullaby, sort of,” mused Ron. “Even if it talks about your mother not being around.”

Ginny tilted her head toward Carewyn, Ron’s words prompting concern.

“...Do you not have a mother, Carewyn?”

The rest of the family went very quiet -- some like Percy shot Ginny warning looks, while others like Molly and Ron couldn’t help but glance at Carewyn in similar concern.

Carewyn’s gaze had drifted off onto the fire. Although she was turned away and her face was stoic, however, Orion could see her eyes rippling like turbulent ocean water, before she closed them solemnly.

“...I had one,” she answered softly at last. “She died when I was twelve.”

“Was she sick?” asked Ron, very hesitantly.

Carewyn bowed her head and gave a single, silent nod. Everyone in the room knew what that meant. The Plague had swept through both Royaume and Florence several times, over the span of the War -- one of the worst years was about nine years ago now...probably the same year Carewyn had lost her mother.

Orion’s black eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly upon her face. Molly looked like she wanted to envelop Carewyn in the biggest hug and was only holding back the urge because of her husband’s tight, reassuring squeeze to her hand.

“Oh, you poor dear,” she murmured.

Carewyn raised her head at last, her expression once again touched by a small, resilient, pretty smile.

“It’s all right,” she said gently, her eyes only briefly grazing each of the Weasleys’ faces. “I’ll always miss my mother...but I’m getting along all right. And I still have Jacob.”

“Your brother?” asked Percy, and Carewyn nodded.

“He left for War the same day he and I moved in with our grandfather,” Carewyn explained.

“Your brother must be quite a bit older than you, then,” said Orion.

Carewyn glanced at Orion out the side of her eye, smiling slightly. “Nine years older, yes. You know...you actually remind me of him, a bit.”

Orion raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

Carewyn was forced to stifle a giggle behind her hand. “Jacob is also the sort to do things in his own clever way. Only he’s a lot more aggressive than you -- and more talkative, and arrogant, and overprotective...”

“And uglier,” inserted Fred.

“And smellier,” added George.

“With a long crooked nose and ears like a bat’s.”

The younger Weasley siblings were all laughing now. Carewyn had to cover her mouth to stifle her giggling.

“No!” she choked. “I don’t mean it like that! He’s wonderful, really. He’s just...well, an absolute idiot about how to interact with other people. He’s completely brilliant, mind you -- he could give you whole lectures about anything from geography to mathematics to physics...but coming up with spontaneous gifts for no occasion at all, just based on someone’s interests? He’d need some prodding, to do something like that.”

She smiled at Orion, who couldn’t help but grin fully in return.

“It was truly nothing at all, Carewyn,” he said. “With your love of music, it felt like that song would be something you would appreciate.”

Arthur glanced at Orion curiously. “Where is that song from, Orion? I’ve never heard it before.”

“I learned it as a boy,” Orion answered. “I would hear it sung outside the window of the workhouse, sometimes.”

Molly looked very troubled. “Workhouse? Orion dear, you don’t mean to say you grew up in one of those terrible places?”

Orion felt Carewyn’s gaze on him. When he looked back at her, her almond-shaped blue eyes were rippling with concern as well, though much gentler and more empathetic than Molly’s. He tried to offer her a smile.

“Let’s just say the words spoke to me as well, at the time,” he said lightly. “Not just to me, either...all of the boys there, one way or another, were where they were because of other people’s ‘terrible mistakes.’”

Orion’s gaze drifted down to his own hands as he lightly clasped them in his lap.

“...The War doesn’t touch you the same way here, but...the closer you are to Florence...the more the reality of it hits you in the face, every day. Even when you’re not on the battlefield itself -- even when you’re just at the border -- you, and the ones you care for, run the risk of getting caught in the crossfire. And on the border of Florence and Royaume...in those towns where it’s hard to tell where one country starts and another begins...tensions are like gunpowder. One spark from the tiniest match can set it ablaze -- can make everything implode, and force you to start all over again.”

His face was unreadable, but his black eyes were endless, rippling with the recollection of the fire and smoke -- the red and blue colors of Royaume, on the saddles of horses -- the life leaving his mother’s eyes -- his own heavy, terrified hyperventilating...

He closed his eyes and took several very deep, measured breaths before continuing.

“In such a place...one can find people desperate enough to want to lash out at others, to avenge their pain,” said Orion solemnly. “But there was one sweet old woman who owned a flower and herb shop near the workhouse. She’d had to rebuild her establishment several times over the years, and from what I understand, she finally had to leave town not long after I did...but every time she caught wind that the army was coming to town, looking for new recruits...she’d sing the song just loudly enough that we boys could hear it through our window.”

He absently played with the crudely carved circular charm on the cord around his neck in one hand.

“And although there were those who still enlisted afterwards...many others did not.”

Carewyn’s eyes widened.

“‘While we’re seeing our side,’ ” she sang again, more softly, “‘maybe we forgot...they are not alone. No one is alone.’ ”

Orion’s lips spread into a smile as he looked at Carewyn, his black eyes rippling gently as he nodded.

“So it’s against the War, then,” murmured Charlie. He glanced at his parents, who both looked concerned.

“Did that woman with the flower shop give you that?” asked Ginny curiously, indicating the charm around Orion’s neck.

“Yes,” said Orion. “She gave it to me one night when I tried to run away, to soothe my nerves. Its effects wore off by the next morning, but I’ve never really had the heart to throw it out.”

Percy sputtered, looking very pale. “Th-then she was a witch?”

“Whoa,” said Fred and George, looking almost too eager.

“Did she turn all the army into pigs?” asked George.

“Did she lure you in and try to cook you in a soup?” said Fred.

Orion smiled indulgently. “Of course not -- ”

“Well, thank Heavens for that!” said Molly, shooting the twins a very reproachful look. “Magic isn’t something to make fun of, you two -- it’s frankly a wonder you weren’t hurt, dear...”

Orion frowned. “There was no danger, Madam Weasley, I assure you.”

“No danger! Orion,” Molly scolded him indulgently, “I applaud your courage...but nature has its own way of things, and any magic that twists it out of shape is more dangerous than it’s worth.”

To the Weasley family’s surprise, Carewyn actually spoke up.

“Mrs. Weasley, men tend fields, plant seeds, domesticate horses and dogs...treat illnesses and injuries...cut hair and wear makeup and put on heeled shoes to make ourselves appear taller. Would that not also be twisting nature’s intent?”

Molly actually faltered somewhat. “Well, yes, but...that’s very different from magic, Carewyn! Magic is...well, it’s wild. Uncontrollable.”

“It’s untamed chaos,” said Arthur more levelly than his wife. “A kind that’s done a lot more harm than good.”

“But it still can be used for good,” said Carewyn very firmly. “And if it has that potential, why must we treat it as though it and all of its users are inherently reprehensible? If magic can be used to save lives, or heal the sick, or even just calm a scared boy down after something horrible...”

She glanced at Orion out the side of her eye.

“...Then it seems to be like any other weapon or tool, or even any other person -- something that could protect or hurt.”

Orion felt like his heart was being flooded with warmth, and his entire expression melted with pride and something like affection as he stared at Carewyn.

She truly is a woman to be admired. The memory of Skye’s irritation and McNully’s warning rippled over Orion’s mind and he found himself faltering. Admire...yes. Anyone could grow to admire such a woman, couldn’t they? To respect and esteem her...to...grow an attachment, to her... Even I? Could I...?

The Weasleys exchanged uncertain looks amongst themselves.

“Come to think of it,” said Ron thoughtfully, “wasn’t there that old myth about fairy godmothers who grant you wishes?”

Fred brought an arm roughly around his younger brother’s neck and put him in a rough choke hold. “Aww, ickle Ronnie wanting a pwetty new dress?”

“‘Oh fairy godmother, I just gotta have a new dress for the Winter Festival!’” said George in a high-pitched squeal.

“Geroff!” growled Ron, as he pulled free.

“Oh, but that would be fun!” sighed Ginny. “Dancing at the Winter Festival, in the prettiest dress you’ve ever seen...you’re going to the Festival, aren’t you, Carewyn?”

“Probably not, Ginny,” said Carewyn gently, “I’ve got so much work to do...”

“Oh, but you have to!” whined Ginny. “The Festival’s tradition! Right, Orion?”

“So I’ve heard,” Orion said modestly, “but I’m afraid I’ve never attended a Winter Festival either.”

“What?!” said all of the Weasley children except Bill in thoroughly aghast unison.

“It’s the biggest celebration of the entire year -- ”

“Everybody in town will be there -- ”

“ -- well, aside from the noble tarts -- ”

“ -- but hey, who needs them?”

“Everybody makes the best mince pies and hot apple cider -- ”

“There’s dancing and singing and games and gift-giving -- ”

“You just can’t miss it -- ”

Before long, they’d completely gotten off the topic of magic all together, so the Weasleys could tell Orion all about the Winter Festival. Carewyn took the opportunity to start carrying dishes into the kitchen so that she could help Molly clean up. While she did so, Bill pulled her aside.

“Carewyn...can I talk to you? Alone?”

Carewyn blinked, but nonetheless put down the dishes she was carrying and followed Bill off into a secluded corner.

“What’s wrong?” she asked in concern.

Bill bit the inside of his lip, his brown eyes drifting over in the direction of the fireplace where the rest of his family was sitting with Orion.

“Carewyn,” he said slowly, “who is that man, really?”

Carewyn’s eyebrows knit together. Bill ran a hand over the undone collar of his tunic absently.

“He’s hiding something, I know it. And I’m sure you see it too. He dodges questions he doesn’t want to answer, and as much as he’s even told us tonight about himself, he never gives important details. He lived near the border, but he didn’t mention what town he’s from. He lived in a workhouse, presumably after losing his parents, but he never said what he lost them to.”

“Those things might not be easy for him to talk about, Bill,” Carewyn said softly.

“Yes,” said Bill in a bracing voice, “but he also hopped the walls of the palace, completely ignorant of how tight royal security is and why, has enough time to chase after you most every day, and gets paints from people he can’t identify and learns songs from people who, from the sound of things, practice witchcraft.”

Bill crossed his arms. He clearly was trying to be considerate to Carewyn’s feelings, but couldn’t hold back his concerns.

“Look, I...I understand you like the man. And I understand why -- Ginny and the others seem to have taken to him pretty well, too. But there’s no reason for someone to hold back that many secrets, unless they’re up to no good. He could be a cad, or a criminal, or maybe even something worse. Judging by his stance on magic, he could even be a magician himself...”

His brown eyes narrowed slightly upon Carewyn’s face.

“I’m just...worried about you, that’s all,” he said lowly.

Carewyn considered Bill for a long moment. Then, reaching out a hand, she gently took hold of Bill’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“Bill...I understand how you feel. And I’m grateful, truly grateful, for your caring. I hardly deserve it, and it...it means a lot to me.”

Bill frowned deeply, ready to say something, but Carewyn cut him off.

“But believe me when I say that people don’t just keep secrets because they mean to do harm. Sometimes -- for some people -- they’ve had to learn to hide themselves and shield their hearts...so much so that even when they encounter good people, it’s hard for them to let their guard down. Sometimes they’ve known so much pain that, even though they’re kind people, they’ve numbed themselves to a degree, just to protect themselves. Lied so much...that it becomes second-nature. Or worse, lie because they don’t know who they can really trust...because so many people have hurt them that they don’t know what trust even feels like anymore.”

Bill’s expression lost some of its edge, though it still looked wary.

“...And if he is a magic user?”

“Then he’s one of the good ones,” said Carewyn firmly.

Bill still looked a bit unsure. Carewyn squeezed his shoulder a bit more tightly, her eyes resting there instead of on his face.

“Bill, my brother is only alive, thanks to magic.”

Bill was startled.

“The Plague swept through our whole house,” said Carewyn lowly. “First the landlord and his family -- then my mother...and then Jacob. We were living hand-to-mouth, and I didn’t have anyone else to go to...so I went to the Cromwell estate.”

Bill’s brown eyes became a little smaller, darkening with grim understanding.

“...You went to your grandfather.”

Carewyn nodded. “He disowned Mum long ago, but he was still our family, so I thought he might be willing to help us. He agreed to take Jacob and me in and nurse Jacob back to health, so long as we paid back his generosity. Grandfather then tracked down a witch who could cast a spell to save Jacob’s life.”

Bill’s eyebrows furrowed. “Lord Cromwell hired a -- ?”

“Do not repeat this, Bill!” Carewyn said very sharply and urgently. “To anyone, do you understand? No one.”

Her eyes then softened visibly, becoming grimmer and sadder.

“Jacob was dying. There was no other option.”

Bill looked like he was in pain, just hearing this second-hand. He swallowed, and then gave a nod.

“So that witch saved your brother’s life,” he said quietly.

Carewyn nodded, her eyes full of emotion despite the stoicism of her features.

“The spell she cast bound Jacob’s life to Grandfather’s will. Jacob was brought into the house on a stretcher just after dawn, and within a half-hour...he was up on his own two feet again.”

Carewyn closed her eyes. She could still remember Jacob’s blazing, relieved smile as he barreled down the stairs and threw his arms around her, cradling her like a baby.

“My Wyn -- my sweet Wyn -- ”

Not long after that, though...Jacob’s arms were yanked away -- all of him was yanked away -- held back by Blaise and Claire and Pearl’s husbands, who all had work to together just to restrain Jacob as he fought to reach her, screaming and raging like a mad man --

“WYN! NO! GET OFF OF ME -- WYN! I WON’T LET YOU -- CAREWYN!”

Carewyn opened her eyes, the soft longing fading from her face completely and leaving a much more stony expression behind.

Bill himself, however, looked more troubled than ever.

“You said your brother left for War the same day you and he arrived at the Cromwell estate,” he whispered shakily. “Do you mean that, right after saving your brother’s life...Lord Cromwell immediately sent him off to War -- all while knowing how few men return home alive?”

Carewyn’s lips came together tightly.

“Grandfather sent him to the front, so that Jacob could start paying back the debt I owed him,” she said, her voice very soft and oddly distant. “After all...a man who wouldn’t die, so long as he willed it...would make an excellent soldier.”

Bill looked horrified.

“Then...” he whispered, “...then Jacob’s only alive because your grandfather decides whether he lives or dies? You only know your brother’s still alive after so many years at war...because Lord Cromwell is bound to him through magic, and he’s holding his life over your head?”

Carewyn withdrew her hand from Bill’s shoulder and turned away.

“Carewyn...that’s monstrous!” said Bill, and he was unable to keep his voice from rising. “I didn’t even know magic could do something like that -- but -- but that’s nothing, compared to...”

He couldn’t restrain himself. He actually threw an arm around Carewyn and pulled her into a hug from behind. The small ginger-haired woman stiffened like a startled cat.

“Bill?”

Carewyn looked up at him -- were those tears, in his eyes?

“Have you...never told anyone else, about this?” Bill murmured.

Carewyn tried to turn around, her blue eyes welling up with regret and pain. “Bill...”

She brought a hand through his hair, trying to soothe him the way she used to for Jacob.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I -- I didn’t mean to upset you -- I only wanted to explain why I’m not scared of magic...please forgive me.”

Bill closed his eyes to try to hold back both his righteous anger and his tears.

“Forgive you?” he repeated in a choked voice. “For what, trusting me with the truth?”

“For making you worry unnecessarily,” Carewyn said forcefully, trying to ignore how uncomfortably her stomach was squirming.

Bill opened his eyes, looking both flabbergasted and more upset than ever. “Unnecessarily?”

He roughly grabbed both of Carewyn’s shoulders and forced her to look up at him.

“Now you listen here, Carewyn Cromwell,” he said, taking on the sort of tone he only ever used with his younger siblings when they were being rowdy, “you may get to decide if you want to interact with me or not, or rely on me or not, or accept my help or not. But you don’t get to decide whether I worry about you or not. And from here on out...”

Bill’s brown eyes were blazing with resolve.

“...I’m going to worry about you. Because I hate the thought of someone feeling like anybody else worrying about them is somehow a problem.”

Carewyn was left speechless.

Bill’s face broke into a broad smile through his tears. “Until your brother’s back from the War, Carey, I’ll be looking after you for him -- no arguments, no dismissals, no saying you’re fine on your own. Got it?”

Carewyn looked at Bill, perfectly stunned. Then her gaze fell away toward the floor.

“...It sounds like...I really don’t get a choice in the matter, then,” she whispered.

“Nope,” said Bill, grinning broadly.

Carewyn was unable to fight back the weak smile prickling at the sides of her lips, nor the emotion flooding her eyes, even as she kept her face turned away.

“...And I suppose ‘Carey’...is a suggestion of a nickname you plan to give Charlie, for me?”

Bill’s eyes sparkled fondly. “Well, every one of my siblings has a nickname, in case you haven’t noticed.”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #cinderella au #carewyn cromwell #orion amari #murphy mcnully #skye parkin #bill weasley #charlie weasley #percy weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #ron weasley #ginny weasley #molly weasley #arthur weasley #katriona cassiopeia #charles cromwell #jacob cromwell #my art #my writing #GAAAAHHHH BILLLL #I LOVE YOU SO FRIGGIN' MUCH MY PRECIOUS BOY ;~;#you go be a good big brother and best friend for carewyn you wonderful thing #also ooh hoo hoo~ orion you can claim you're not crushing but you aren't fooling anybody hahahaha #you'll figure out what you're feeling soon enough >D #we're learn more about how magic works in this universe as time goes on of course #but yeah rest assured there's still a lot to unravel in regards to what happened to jacob... >>#and of course this part is another reminder that charles cromwell is a no-good son of a b****

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lunarreaper12 · 3 years

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First in regards to my last ask: what lil things does killer to make nightys day better? I'm very curious~ Also is nightmare not able to use glitter? (Was it called glitter? I think so...)

Second: soo i wonder... Is killers room close to nightys? (Would probably make sense but who knows the palace is surely big...) And did killer ever fell -accidentely(?)- fell asleep in nightys room? How did they both handled the Situation and reacted to it? Any soft moments at all? 6w6

Also will killer watch nighty at night sometimes too (not the creepy way)? I mean is he sometimes worried about nighty and his safety when killer himself is not exactly on duty (i sure am) ? I would assume there are guards or Barrieres maybe to protect the Kings at sleeping times (i hope at least, tho other guards could also pose a threat ...?), as that wouldn't pose a Problem to dream much i think as he is much loved, it could be rather a dangerous time for nighty... ? Cuz he isn't treated or respected as a king as preciously as dream ... Rather they want him gone.

Which brings me to my next question... Are the other guards and Palace stuff taking their job seriously when serving or protecting nightmare cuz he is not really being fancied by others? (My theory on why the tea and coffee tasted Bad to nm could be maybe cuz they were kinda doing it on purpose or just not caring if it would be to his liking at all... U know, to spite him. But who know..not me.)

Also was nightmare ever attempted to be assasinated at all since the kinda truce with his brother? Probably but idk. If yes.. How did killer prevented it and/or dealt with them? Or how was it handled at all to make sure nighty is safe?

Is not me or do the asks get longer? XD oops.

Oh you have stumbled upon some of my favorite bits of Lore~!

*Rubs hands together* Let’s get this started!

What little thing does Killer do to make Nightmare’s day better?

Killer des various things depending on what Nightmare is doing at the time! Like what was written in “Take a break”, Killer may bring Nightmare treats and tea throughout the day if he’s working primarily in his office. Nightmare likes the quiet while he’s working, so Killer is actually much less talkative when he thinks Nightmare needs the silence.

If Killer sees that Nightmare is having a bad day, he’ll scatter some of Nightmare’s favorite things around where Nightmare will find them. Favorite flowers, little puzzles, (Nightmare likes playing with puzzles when he’s bored), at one point Killer left a plush toy in Nightmares office. The toy disappeared, and last Killer saw it, it was tucked under Nightmare’s arm when he accidentally walked in on the King sleeping. Killer isn’t certain where the toy goes to during the day, and he hasn’t caught Nightmare asleep since then.

Killer also has left notes around. Little encouragements, jokes, or even poems he thought Nightmare would like. Nightmare hides these where no one will find them, just like the plushy.

After Killer was allowed to spend time in Nightmare’s room, he started checking what books Nightmare seemed to like, and would go out to find new books he thinks Nightmare hasn’t read when he was able to! (He usually just puts them where Nightmare will find them, rather than just giving them to him).

Can Nightmare use glamours?

Yes! Nightmare and Dream actually have much of the same abilities, and using glamours is one of the ones they share! Using a glamour is just not something Nightmare prefers to do unless it’s necessary. He could of course use this if he wanted to walk around without people staring, but he hates the idea that he needs to hide himself to have a normal walk around his kingdom.

He’d rather deal with people staring at him than hide from his own subjects.

Is Killer’s room close to Nightmare’s, and has he ever fallen asleep in Nightmare’s room?

Killer’s room is close to Nightmare’s in case of emergencies! The same goes for Cross and Dream. As for whether Killer has fallen asleep in his room? Well, sometimes the Guard works a bit too hard and accidents happen... Plus, when you have the Moon King reading to you in that low voice of his... Well, anyone’s bound to fall asleep to that!

Nightmare didn’t notice Killer had fallen asleep right away, and when he did? Well... Looks like I have another writing prompt don’t I? (I’m such a meanie >w< I can definitely write this one out real soon though! I know exactly what would happen >w<)

Does Killer get worried about Nightmare at night while they’re sleeping?

Oh boy, absolutely. At first he wasn’t super concerned about it, but... well... Something may have happened one night and Killer nearly never slept afterwards, for fear of something similar happening again. I’m trying to be a bit vague because this is actually a big spoiler, specifically relating to Killer’s actual design. When I finish Killer’s design, I’ll write about it in the same post! I’m being very vague on these answers this time around, aren’t I? XD Sorry!

Moving on though~

Do the other guards of the castle take their jobs seriously when it comes to Nightmare?

Hm... well, yes and no? You see, the Captain of the Guardsmen is actually rather familiar with both of the Kings! As such, he does take care to assign the best guards to the castle. There’s always outliers though, and while yes the Guardsmen would prioritize Dream over Nightmare in an emergency, I wouldn’t say they’re the worst guards in the world.

That being said, You’d be right in assuming their security is a bit lax when it comes to Nightmare’s safety. This also ties in to the previous answer in regards to something having happened one night... and well, the Captain wasn’t happy to hear about the Guardsmen he’d assigned’s poor performance.

The guards may not like Nightmare, and may even want him gone, but the vast majority of them would never disobey the Captain or the Kings, regardless of their personal beliefs. The Captain has a high standard for his men, and wouldn’t trust just anyone to guard the Kings. I would say something really messed up would have to happen for the guards to actively turn on Nightmare against Dream and the Captain’s wishes.

I do like your theory by the way! And I would say it’s partially correct! The servants definitely don’t take as much care in preparing things for him as they do for Dream. There was probably the rare scattered events where the servant’s actively made something taste bad when preparing it for Nightmare, but most of the time it’s simply a lack of care.

Has Nightmare ever had an assassination attempt on him since the truce?

Unfortunately, Yes. Several. These assassination attempts were mostly made before Killer was assigned as Nightmare’s Guard actually. Nightmare is still powerful and skilled in his own right, and with the assistance of a few castle guards the attempts were cut short. Nightmare never let Dream know of these incidents though, as he didn’t want his brother to try and get involved. Nightmare was mostly concerned about Dream ordering an entire group of guards to follow him around. Dream had already been insisting on a Royal Guard just to improve his image, imagine how much of an overreaction he would have to knowing his younger brother was actively being targeted by assassins!

After Killer was assigned to Nightmare, the assassination attempts died down for a short time. At least, so Nightmare had thought. The reality is, is that Killer is far better at his job than Nightmare thought he would be... And even if Killer didn’t much care for the job in the beginning, he wasn’t going to waste an opportunity to have a bit of “fun”. It’s not like Nightmare needed to know.

And that’s all I’ll say on that before I end up spoiling something >w<

#Answered asks #Kingdomverse #undertale au #Gotta reblog this to my ut blog~!

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theriverpersonshadow · 3 years

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Lamia Drama: Side Session (2)

Like I said, this got suuuuuper long. Also, I have no idea if I can even live up to the potential chaos I’ve set up XD

All the species belong to @vex-bittys

Previous | Next(?)

Nikolai had been rather thorough in his consideration for the troublemaker of the night. It sounded like the entire gimmick was to be around pygmy’s natural playfulness, so might as well play it up. Their games might have had some darker tones and general swearing, but they could tone it down for one night; a child would be best. But not too young. They needed to at least be old enough to comprehend that they were playing a game of make believe and hadn’t actually become a dragon or whatever silliness was going to happen.

So Piper was perfect. One of the older children, but still very much a child by both human and lamia standards. Really there were many candidates, Piper just caught his eye first, possibly because he was easy to pick out. He’d developed a mostly harmless condition where he had patches of scales on some of his bones, most notable on the forehead and back of his skull. It tended to itch a bit, but a little bit of extra hygiene and some topical creams fixed that right up. The little one wasn’t quite old enough to start looking for a home yet – socialization with other younglings was important for development after all – but he would be fine spending a few hours away from the others.

Piper was curled around Nikolai’s left forearm, little hands clinging to the fabric and tail coiled tight as he stubbornly hung upside down, giggling and chirping as the world went by. He was still small enough that falling wouldn’t actually hurt him even if he hit the floor.

Nikolai stopped in front of the door, looking down at Piper, “Remember how the game goes?”

Piper nodded, “I the boss!”

Keith had decided that Piper would be a sort of Co-DM. It was going to be an interesting session…

“Keith – the Chain – is also the boss. And remember, it’s all pretend, but pretend how you want.”

“I knoooowwsss! Not a hatchling!” Piper huffed, pouting and glaring at Nikolai.

Nikolai chuckled, “No, no you’re not.” He mentally added, but you’re not much older. “Tell me if it gets to be too much, okay?” He’d be keeping an eye out anyways – overstimulating a pygmy was harder than it might be with other breeds, but not impossible.

“It won’t!” Piper chirped. “Go in now!” He was pawing at the underside of Nikolai’s arm, wiggling restlessly.

“Alright, alright,” Nikolai said, opening the door to the break room. Everyone else had already taken their seats, snacks and drinks at the ready. It looked like someone had already set out a cup of Chai tea for him. “Why thank you,” he said has he settled into his spot, setting Piper down to wander the table.

Piper immediately went for Nikolai’s mug, curling around it and peaking inside. Before Nikolai could stop him, Piper stuck his tongue into it and hissed, darting away.

“BIT ME!” Piper cried, glaring at the offending mug from behind his hiding place… which was ironically Alex’s cup of tea – green and hibiscus instead of chai.

Nikolai sighed, reaching out to give Piper a few little pets, “It’s chai tea. I could’ve told you you might not like it. It’s spicy, bitter, and still hot.”

“Why?” Piper said.

“Um… because it has spices?” Nikolai said.

“Why drink?”

“Because I like it,” Nikolai said.

“No,” Piper said, crossing his arms. He was now holding Alex’s drink hostage instead, but had the good sense to not dunk his tongue in immediately. “Lady’s smarter. Smells good!”

“Aaaaw, thanks. That’d be the hibiscus. Gives it kinda a fruity flavor. Not sure if you’d want this either though. I don’t put sugar in it… And you might be a little young for caffeine at all, honestly?” Alex said. “Geez… and I though Trousle was small! You’re so little!”

“Mm hmm. I’m cute,” Piper said, rolling over to show the softer scales of his underbelly. Alex squeaked at the cuteness, gently stroking the softer tissue as Piper purred.

Oozy huffed and leaned over, gently headbutting Alex’s other hand. Alex chuckled and started petting him too… And then Trousle looked over, and Keith was trying to pretend he wasn’t, but Nikolai could see his tail trying to sneakily capture Alex in a snuggle.

“… I don’t have enough hands for all these lamia,” Alex said. “Who designed humans? I have some questions for them.”

“Me too! You need more hands! For more cuddles! But you’re very warm, I like it!” Trousle said, slithering over to lay beside her arm.

“You guys are so desperate,” Hux said with a deadpan expression. “It’s fu…” He looked over at Nikolai, who was giving him a death glare, hood fully spread and tail coiled, “…uuuuuuppernuttering embarrassing.”

Piper laughed and, as children do, immediately chirped, “Fuppernutter!”

“Fuppernutter,” Alex echoed.

“What is a fuppernutter?” Trousle said, head tilted in honest confusion.

Oozy said, “Is it related to peanut butter?”

“Maybe it’s cousins with flutters or shutters,” Keith said.

“Does it give nuts to fuppers?” Alex said.

“I think I’m having a stroke,” Hux said, looking desperately to Nikolai.

Nikolai smirked, leaning with his elbows against the table. “You brought this on yourself, now deal with it, you fuppernutter.”

Hux let out a loud grown. “Whyyyyy… Ugh. Aren’t we here to, like, game? Let’s do that. Please.”

Keith nodded, “Yeah, guess we are. Alright, let’s see the insanity! And remember, keep it clean.” He gestured to the kid. “Let’s start with… hmm… Nikolai?”

Nikolai straightened up and pulled out the character sheet, “A level 10 sorcerer who believes magic isn’t real. I’ve named him… Steve.”

“Steve?” Keith said, clearly trying to hold back a laugh. “Oh boy- heh… Why the heck is that funny? Oh my gosh.” He snickered into his hand as Nikolai rolled his eyes. It wasn’t that funny.

“Alright. So we’ve got Steve. Hux?”

“Eh… I figured I’d go rogue and go Rogue this time. Level 20 changeling thief!”

“Branching out a little, eh? Sounds like fun!” Keith said, apparently not caring about the lack of name or any background info.

Hux was going to steal absolutely everything from everyone, wasn’t he?

“Alright, Trousle?”

Trousle grinned and quickly sent something to Keith, notified by a little ring. Keith’s eyes scanned it, nodding along, then grew wider, then he started laughing, “Dude. I know it’s dungeons and dragons, but… Oh man. I love it.”

“What?” Hux said. “C’mon, tell us!”

Trousle had a proud grin as he typed, “I’m a level 14 half dragon, dragonborn weredragon monk taking path of the ascendant dragon.”

“That is so much dragon,” Alex said. “I think he wins. He’s the dragon in Dungeons and Dragons. It’s him. He’s all the dragons.”

“I don’t know if that’s legal, but I kind of hope it is,” Nikolai said.

“The monk subclass is in playtesting still, and weredragons are from 2e. So very much no, but it’s a one shot and I do not care.” Trousle had his little arms on his hips as the voice app finished speaking for him.

“Oh man. This is, oh boy,” Keith said.

Piper was looking at Trousle in awe, “You’re dragon?!”

Trousle shook his head, typing, “Not really. But my character is!”

Piper nodded. “I pretend dragon too! RAAAAWR!!!!” He slithered over to Trousle and play-tackled him, chirping and giggling as Trousle snaked around the table in a little game of chase.

While that was going on, Keith continued, “Alex? What about you?”

“I’ve been meaning to try cleric, but, well… Personal issues, I guess. But hey, tricksters are awesome, so I’mma trickster cleric! Sounds like some fun little bit of chaos chaos,” she said. “Maybe I should’ve gone higher level… I’m only level 10.”

“Nooooob,” Hux said, tail end twitching.

“Nooooooooom!!!” Piper said. He’d managed to capture Trousle, getting a sort of impromptu piggy back ride on the other lamia. Trousle seemed more confused than distressed about this occurrence.

“And… Oh boy. Do I even wanna know, Oozy?” Keith said.

Oozy got a shit-eating grin as he passed a paper forward. “Memelord.”

“A what?”

“Found it online.”

“… Oh thor have mercy…” Keith said.

“Level 20.”

“Why did I let you just make whatever.”

“Because it’s hilarious.”

“You’re never playing this again.”

“That’s fine.”

“You can pickpocket Anubis mid-combat.”

“Yeeeep,” Oozy said. “It’s great, ain’t it?

“You’re proficient in all the saving throws.”

“You should know better than to tell me to go nuts.”

“Whyyyyyy” Keith hissed, rubbing away an anatomically impossible headache.

“Because it’s hiss-terical.” Oozy laughed out loud, and Kieth was trying to hide it, but he was joining in.

“I’m never doing this again,” Keith said, blatantly lying as he did every single time he more or less told them to be as ridiculous as possible for a noncanon oneshot.

“Yeah you are,” Hux said. “’cause you looooove us or something. Ya dork.”

“Heh, could say the same about you.”

“Nope. My soul’s just ice.”

“Ice soul?” Piper said, looking up from the captive Trousle. “Doctor’s here! Tha’s bad! Gotta get you warmed! Get the fire!”

“No. No fire,” Nikolai said. “He’s just being himself.”

“Hmm… okay! We play now? I’m the highest! Level 40!” Piper chirped. “I win all the things! ‘Cause I’m the dragon! Or the dungeon!” He was lightly bouncing in place, hands outstretched.

“Heh, there’s not really a win to this game… It’s just about having fun and playing pretend,” Keith said. “C’mon, I’ll let you on my side of the screen.” He gently scooped up Piper and draped him around his neck.

“I have the tall!” Piper yelled. “FEAR ME!”

“Oh nooooo!”

“Alright here we go…”

Memelord is a joke class I found online.

I’m actually using Path of the Ascendant Dragon in a campaign! Or I’m planning to, haven’t started yet.

#Lamia Drama #Lamia Drama Side Session #Lamia #Lamia Bitties #Vex-Bitties #Hux #Oozy #Trousle #Piper #Nikolai #Keith #dnd #I cannot hope to live up to the potential chaos I have started #This may or may not be the end #Because there is nothing I can write to do this justice

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jippy-kandi · 4 years

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Digimon Adventure: 2020 – Episode 15: Zudomon’s Iron Hammer Of Lightning (Review)

Thoughts on the fifteenth episode of the Digimon Adventure reboot series.

I loved this episode. I’m predictable. So what? Warning: Major Sorato fangirling ahead. :P

The animation in this episode was truly horrendous. Yamato didn’t even look pretty in some shots! *cough*

I love that Jou, Sora and Yamato had designated roles for their strategy and worked together really well. Especially Sora and Yamato, who came up with the strategy and made Jou feel useless. Jou totally looked at them like #couplegoals ;) (I’m joking. :P)

Frigimon injuring Sora was really great. I’ve always wanted to see the kids actually get injured/sick by a digimon – and the others having to protect/take care of them . . . it usually only happens in fanfics! It was amazing to see, and I loved how Yamato took Sora to safety and protected her, while Jou was the decoy. Do you guys realise that this reboot is making little baby Sorato shippers for a new generation? And, when they hit their teens/adults, they’ll write fanfics about this exact situation? They'll also eventually watch the original show and its movies, and completely accept and embrace “old” Sorato as the standard because in “their” reboot version, Sorato was obvious. I LOVE IT. PRAISE TOEI 2020.

Mimi riding a kiwimon because she thought they were cute was COMEDY GOLD. Reboot Mimi really might be best Mimi.

Jou being a distraction for Sora and Yamato to get away safely was a good plan and actually made sense. It was the best of all the “excuses” the reboot gave for the other Ultimate digimon to not be needed. Learn from this, previous episode 14.

Yamato’s look back at Sora as they were riding Garurumon? A really nice detail to show his concern and cement Sorato as the OTP. ;) No, seriously, it was great for Yamato’s characterisation, and it definitely helped their friendship. It also reminds me of nuanced, subtle OG Sorato. <3

Gomamon/Ikkakumon is such a good cheerleader of Jou. I really like their partnership, even if Jou is a bit too pathetic.

I liked the Mammathmon freezing the river to make an ice bridge, and then crossing it with all the Frigimon. It was a nice throwback to Frigimon doing the same for Taichi in the OG. That episode has a special place in my heart, because Yamato nearly freezes and Gabumon had to take care of him (and here, Sora is injured instead and needs to be thawed out). I like how they rework things.

Ikkakumon: “Let’s protect everyone by ourselves, Jou.” Jou: “I’ll . . . protect . . . [Sora-kun]” Yamato: “This is Yamato. Is something wrong? I’ll head over if things seem bad.” Jou: “No. Don’t worry. There’s no problem. Right now, Sora-kun can’t be left alone. Please stay with her!” Pretty amazing moment for Jou, it made my heart swell. I also like that Yamato offered to help as well. And Jou clearly ships Sorato. XD;

Ikkakumon’s super evolution to Zudomon was the most interestingly animated, outside of MetalGreymon and WereGarurumon. But why is Zudomon so buff in this reboot, and with such an innocent face? He looks like a guinea pig who lifts 24/7. But him being Thor-like with the hammer was pretty cool. I also never noticed the dolphin on his shoulder before, lol.

Jou definitely “redeemed” himself for me this episode. And . . . I think his super evolution worked the most to me out of all the kids. (Mimi comes close, but I still have an issue with Palmon being useless for half her episode.) I think this is because Jou was depicted as being so utterly pathetic so far, that when he stepped up to protect his friends (who actually needed be to protected – the stakes were high with Sora’s injury), it actually seemed to matter instead of just being another fast-forward to Ultimate. I didn’t expect Jou’s super evolution to be the most organic, but I liked that it was.

Having said that . . . I think I changed my mind shortly after thinking I preferred reboot Jou (for being hilarious). I prefer OG Jou because he was grounded in reality. Reboot Jou is a bit too hysterical and ridiculous. I would almost ship reboot Jou and Sora in that moment he musters up the courage to super evolve Ikkakumon, if not for the fact that Sora would never respect/admire him enough to be attracted to him. Reboot Jou is not boyfriend material. :P

The #TrainTrackChallenge back in power-less Tokyo was a nice touch to add some “2020” into the show! I lol’ed.

Gomamon: “I’m glad you’re better now!” Sora: “Yeah! Thank you! It’s all thanks to you and Gomamon.” Sora . . . what are Yamato and Garurumon, pieces of meat!? :P But that’s OK, because . . .

Gomamon: “Now then, will the leader give the word of command?” Jou: “All right, everyone . . .” Yamato: “Let’s go!“ Sora: “Yeah!” Yamato is the leader of Sora’s heart. ;)

OMG GOMAMON’S GIGGLE IS SO PRECIOUS, BOTTLE IT UP AND SELL IT. <3

This episode ended with a very nice cliffhanger, with Taichi’s group walking through a cave and ending up in Tokyo.

Overall, I thought this episode was well constructed for a kids’ show. Oh, and Yamato’s group >>> Taichi’s group. ;) They just work so well together!

Fifteen episodes in (really only four: 8, 11, 13, 15), and I’m 100% sure the reboot team know exactly what they’re doing with Sorato. It doesn’t matter that Sorato won’t “hook up” at the end of the series (they’re 11, guys) – the foundation for their possible future relationship is definitely being laid. Toei are making sure that if the kids today go back and watch the old series and see the 02 epilogue, that it’ll make more sense to them than most of the OG crowd. And as a Sorato fan? I really can’t ask for more.

#digimon #digimon adventure #digimon adventure:#digimon adventure 2020 #sorato #yamato ishida #sora takenouchi #jou kido #review #screenshots #spoilers #my sorato heart #<3

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katoodlez · 3 years

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i tried to be productive this morning but i dont think my brain will let me until i do this, so sam and bucky show episode 4 letS GO

i would like to preface this post by saying that I literally got spoilers (before i watched the episode) from liTERALLY EVERYTHING from youtube to gOOGLE CHROME when i was trying to read the nEWS so in order to avoid spoiling it for anyone that hasnt seen it, STOP READING because this episode is inSANE and you don’t want it ruined for you.

Okay with that being said, let’s get started.

1. the first scene in wakanda absolutely deSTROYED ME. ayo helping bucky clear the winter soldier programming from his mind and then the silent shift of emotions on his face as the flashbacks happened and then when he realized he was free was just-- KDSFKSD the aCTING WAS SO GOOD thank you mr sebastian stan

2. bucky telling ayo that Zemo was a means to an end, especially in Wakandan, gave me chills bc it’s a direct parallel of Zemo telling Bucky that he was a means to an end. this show is just so carefully crafted omg

3. karli morgenthau got so much more screentime and development in this episode and i am hERE FOR IT. it’s really intriguing to get a deeper look into the Flag Smasher’s motivations and see a more personal side of their cause as well, especially in the memorial scene.

4. can we just take a moment. we need to take a moment. to just appreciate sam. hIS DIALOGUE IN THIS EPISODE. actually, in the whole show, but eSPECially in this episode just absolutely POPPED OFF. after this episode, I’m fully convinced that sam is 100% without a doubt the best character in this show. whoever wrote his lines is a genius. i love the scene where he talks to Karli, and I hope that they can have another chance to talk without *couGH* jOhn waLKER *coUGH* butting his head in because that conversation was just amazing. i loved how they discussed things they had in common, and a mutual understanding and how sam said “i agree with your fight, but not the way you’re fighting it.” this line was so good. and literally every other part of that conversation. the entire plot would have fallen to shambles by now if it wasn’t for sam so let’s give this man a round of applause please.

5. while we’re talking about sam, I might as well mention that i was very happy to see him in the falcon suit/wings again. he didn’t fly in episode 3 and i missed the action scenes with the wings. i think I gotta give Sam the most creativity points for the fight scenes in this show because he can fight both in the air and on the ground with a set of wings and weaponize them either way and that’s really cool

6. the dora milaje. I LOVE THEM. omg. i was so happy to see Ayo at the end of episode 3 and they just aSSERTED DOMINANCE in this episode and i loved it. their fighting style and weapons and clothing/armor design is just so elegant and mesmerizing to watch. “the dora milaje have jurisdiction wherever the dora milaje find themselves to be” omg. they took no crap from john walker and it was sO SATISFYING

7. on that note, watching walker get his butt kicked by the Dora Milaje while sam, bucky, and zemo just stood there was hilarious and probably one of my favorite scenes in this entire show so far.

8. WHEN AYO DISARMED BUCKY’s VIBRANIUM ARM. OMG. bucky was *surprised pikachu face* and so was I. I really, really hope they run into the wakandans again because there’s definitely a broken trust between them and i want that relationship to be more fully fleshed out and brought to closure too

9. there’s no way i’m making this list without talking about zemo singing to the kids and giving them candy at the beginning of the episode. that kinda gave me “creepy guy who kidnaps kids at the park” kinda vibes but it was also hilarious since Zemo was the only one making any progress on getting info in that scene xd

10. zemo getting away had the same energy as Loki yeeting with the tessaract in Endgame lmao

11. BUCKY WITH A KNIFE. when he caught the knife askdjfk i’ve been waiting for a bucky knife fight this enTIRE SHOW and i finally got it and me very happy : >>>> (i’m determined to learn how he does the flippy trick w the pocketknife in Winter Soldier)

12. when Karli called Sarah Wilson i got chills. first of all sarah is an absolute fearless qUEEN but also the fact that Karli threatened Sam’s nephews akdfjaksdj pls dont hurt them Marvel

13. the parallel discussions between Zemo and Sam, Lemar and Walker about taking the super soldier serum were really neat. they both hark back to the conversation between Steve Rogers and Dr. Erskine in First Avenger, and i think that was the key turning point in revealing/completely clarifying both Sam and Walker’s true colors, which will now directly contradict each other for the rest of the show.

14. people say that sam is the character who always tries to reason things out until he has absolutely no options left. i think that really shows through in this episode, and it’s also a good reference point/marker of the other characters’ development. Sam’s determination to talk things through with Karli actually brought them closer together (until sOMEONE decided to intervene coUGH) but his equal determination to keep peace/negotiate with Walker only drove them further apart, which makes me feel that even though karli and the flag smashers are the “villains” in this story, they are definitely not the antagonists (that would be walker, who’s directly trying to work against Sam and Bucky, the protagonists)

15. bucky’s “i know crazy when i see it cuz i am crazy” sent me LOL

16. when lemar died i think everyone just went 0 _ 0. i don’t think Karli intended to kill him when she kicked him into that wall, judging by the way they all ran off after they realized he was dead. tbh i’ve been netural towards lemar this entire time, tho i do appreciate his more pacifist attitude to walker’s explosive impulsiveness. he’s sort of like sam to bucky. but his death really felt like an accidental cross-fire casualty that cause walker to reach his breaking point

17. and lastly the scene with the bloody shield. 0 _ 0. the whole world was watching indeed

alright that’s it for this week. i can’t believe there’s only two episodes left 0 _ 0. to be honest, from our current point of view as fans i feel like this show needs another season, maybe 2. the reason being, I can’t really see a space that Sam and Bucky would fit into in the future of the MCU. Sam, maybe, if he resolves the deal with the Captain America mantle at the end of this show, but I feel like Bucky’s end goal is just to like, retire lmao. but also, the future of the MCU is gonna be really focused on like the more magicky characters like Wanda, Loki and Doctor Strange, and ofc Spiderman, Thor/Guardians and Captain Marvel, and then ppl are saying something abt the young avengers or something. But yeah, as near as i can figure this show seems like it should bring closure for Bucky at least, except i have no clue how they’re going to wrap all this stuff up in 2 episodes. in addition to the mess with Zemo and Walker and Sharon’s whole deal in Madripoor, I hope they also get back to America to bring their issues there full circle, like Bucky’s issue with Nakajima, Sam’s family and their home, and Isaiah Bradley. guess we’ll see, can’t wait for next week already ahhhh

#falcon and the winter soldier #bucky barnes #sam wilson #falcon #winter soldier #marvel #mcu #spoilers #falcon and the winter soldier spoilers #this show is too good

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astrodances · 3 years

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What class is the USS Klondike

That is a very good eye-opener of a question actually!

The easy/default answer is that she's a Galaxy-class ship, mainly because I haven't actually considered this question in depth before, but I guess so far that's just what I've assumed since Captain Scrooge is a parallel to Captain Picard and so many other things are TNG/DS9-era parallels for this AU, that it makes sense for the Klondike to be based on the Enterprise-D.

Tbh, that'll probably remain the case, since I don't have any immediate plans to go designing a new class or ship at the moment (though I mean, I am a huge fan of starships and spacecraft in all areas of life, so this could change in the future). And looking through the classes on Memory Alpha, none particularly jump out as a better fit (although that Luna-class is tempting...).

But let's delve a little deeper, shall we, into why the Galaxy-class is a good fit, if not as the sure-fire class then at least as a starting point for my own design.

(more under the cut)

Firstly, it's an exploration-type vessel. A must-have quality for any ship under McDuck's command. (It's gotta be able to take them to the stars.)

Second, it's a big ship. A huge, powerful ship. And besides the fact that I love big spaceships and them having a lot of rooms and all the complements and amenities you could think of (I was the type of kid who loved designing 100-story buildings with rock gyms and decked-out kitchens and super-cool basements with swimming pools and the like, and I've played The Sims all my life, you get the picture), it fits Scrooge. One, he's got the huge family, so they need the room. (And the Klondike is pretty much gonna be Duckburg in Space, so you need the room for all those underpaid employees officers, their families, citizens, sworn enemies, etc.) Second, he's the richest duck in the Federation world, but there's no need for money in said Federation (Scrooge: "The horrors!"), so I think the wealth and power and size of McDuck Manor/McDuck Industries/the Money Bin would translate nicely into a big ship for this AU. (Though back home on Earth, would he still have McDuck Manor from earlier times, if we let his immortality play out? He'd definitely still have Castle McDuck, and that little ol' cabin up in White Agony, where a certain glittering archaeologist likes to hide out between adventures, but I digress...)

(Wait totally unrelated thought but if Goldie is Vash and Magica is Q then that means after this AU's version of "Qpid" Goldie would go off with Magica to explore the galaxy through magical means, and then when Goldie comes back to station DS87 in "Q-Less", she could take over Quark's bar from there, and then the Klondike comes to port later and she and Louie team up for the bar and oh hO HO! IT WORKS!!)

*ahem* Anywho...

The Galaxy-class is a good fit for the Klondike. It's got a lot of room for all those kids running around, a well-placed engine room where the chief engineer can keep his distance from all the crazy family problems when he wants yet still be a part of things and take care of everybody in his own way, a lot of shuttles for adventuring and experimenting, and a lot of gyms and holodecks for (very-much-secret-spy-)training and unwinding (you just know that Scrooge has a holo-program of the Money Bin so he can swim around in it still).

(I just had another thought and that is, who would be the ship's CMO? And my quick answer to that was Ludwig von Drake, and since I can't remember anyone else who would be fitting, it's his sickbay now. And with Gyro as the science officer, there are two options for filling in the rest of the medical staff: 1) make a bunch of Li'l Bulbs to be nurses; 2) make a holographic program of von Drake (which we've basically seen) and have multiple copies of him running around sickbay, specializing in different things (holo-von Drake vs. the EMH doctor GO!) (I guarantee you no one on the Klondike will get hurt if they can help it - Ludwig will tell you all about his multiple degrees, and he'll do it all at once while patching up your leg when you came in for a plasma burn on your arm, and you end up staying longer for him to treat your new headache (which are rare occurrences in the world of Star Trek)); secret option 3) combine options 1 and 2, and add in Manny, who moonlights in sickbay and ends up with the reputation of "best bedside manner" even though one of the Li'l Bulbs has to do most of his handiwork for him.)

Sorry this post is turning into a lot of random AU headcanons and ramblings, but it is what it is. :) Long story short, the answer is Galaxy-class.

But if I were to design my own class? I'd start with the Galaxy and probably muscle her up a bunch in size and amenities. (Oooooh yet another random thought but if it was somehow hurricane-sized (or, y'know, compared to such a size) bc lyrics, and I called it the Hurricane-class! XD) There'd probably be a lot of personal duck universe touches added, with a hint of the Spear of Selene embedded into the hull's design (3 nacelles for the Spear's 3 legs? maybe), and as for a name, the Sunchaser-class did just cross my mind, but the one that's been with me all this post?

Aurum-class. ✨ Setting the gold standard for all of Starfleet. ;)

#Astro answers #DuckTales #Star Trek AU #I...I had fun with this #thank you for the fun ask! and live long and prosper! 🖖#long post

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symphonyofthewrite · 4 years

Text

If These Walls Could Talk (Ch1)

Fandom: Castlevania Netflix

Summary: Vampires do not have reflections, and castles do not have hearts. But Dracula is no ordinary vampire, and Castlevania is no ordinary castle. If castles can fight, maybe they can think too.

The series, and Adrian’s childhood, told from the perspective of the castle.

Chapter Summary: “My mother’s name was Lisa, and she was mortal…She actually showed up at his front door. She found the castle and banged the door with the pommel of her knife…She was remarkable. She beat on the door until my father let her in, and then demanded he teach her how to be a doctor.”

Notes:

This is a fic I’ve had up for a while, that people seem to really like!! Not sure why I took this long to post it over here XD I’ll post the next chapters I have over the next few days or so, but if you can’t wait they’re over on my fanfiction blog @antihero-writings, as well as in my fic masterlist over there!! (And technically in my masterlist here, but it's messed up right now XD)

I was writing a different Castlevania fic--(”Such Fragile Things”, if you’re curious)--when I started describing things as if from the castle’s perspective...and I thought that was a very interesting idea, so this happened. The idea was also inspired by Sypha’s “it’s fighting me!" I thought that was really interesting because she was speaking almost as if the castle were a living thing. I was originally planning on posting this as one long thing (and I may still do so after I finish), because the sections are very much connected and meant to flow into each other, and I think it’ll be easy to miss things if they’re separate. But I realized it would be easier, both for me to post, and for people to read, in bite size-pieces. Plus it has very clear-cut sections that are easy to split into chapters. So... here you go!!

If you enjoyed this, I’d really appreciate if you could leave me a comment and/or reblog!!

If you are a fan artist who is interested in making cover art for this fic PLEASE don’t hesitate to message me!! I have a very specific idea for cover art for the chapters but it would cost too much to commission so many pieces...So yeah, if you’re interested, I’d love it if you could reach out!!

Chapter 1: "Lisa"

“Is this how the castle felt to you before my mother first arrived at your door?”

The castle doesn’t like children.

Well, maybe that’s too strong to say. It simply isn’t the place for them. Its existence is a signpost: leave me alone. It is not used to having company—much less a family—inside it, nor is it ready to welcome for a crying, puking, giggling thing into the world. It does not intend to be a cozy place to coddle him into adulthood.

The castle itself pierces the sky, its turrets and towers the dripping stain of the sun’s blood across the moon.

The bare walls hold no colorful tapestries for a child to enjoy, no paintings of its many inhabitants to tell of—for there was only ever one (and maybe that ought not change. It is safe to say the castle doesn’t like change). The royal red and gold carpets are more suited to kings; not designed for spit-up, mud, and scuffing. ‘Don’t play with that’ would be a motto around here; so many contraptions either easy to break, or which could break the child. The fireplaces, while almost always lit, only ever coughed warmth onto the floor before them—they provided no snug space to curl up on a winter’s day. Even the mirrors here are empty, holding nothing but a reflection of the bare walls they sit upon.

There are certain people who were seemingly born as they are; they never owned toys, never crawled on the floor, never walked with clumsy steps—their footfalls were always this calculated count—never burped on their mother’s nice shirts, and surely never had anything so dull as a childhood. They were always just…here, on the world. There was no innocence, and no losing it. So it was with Dracula.

The very thought of Dracula ever owning toys, even in some nice cottage far away from here, with a doting mother and an absent father, with a funny last name like Cronqvist, defied sense to the castle. So no, no toys here, nor any simple charts for learning; the books divulged their secrets to more mature minds. Just blood and books, gold and gears, forgotten magic means, mirrors that reflect nothing, and a pile of prayers to a good God they used to justify their ungood, and ungodly deeds.

All these things—or their absence—do not make for the picture of a baby-proof home.

The castle has grown accustomed to being cold and dark, and listening to one master alone. It’s not a quaint place lovers look on and think we’ll raise our kids here someday.

Its master isn’t the ideal father either—after all, the castle only reflected its king. Its master knows only of blood and nails, fangs and wails, words too big for a child’s mouth, and worlds too dark for a child’s heart.

Can he be soft? Can he be gentle? Can he keep those claws, which have ripped out better men’s hearts, from piercing a child’s—his child’s…how could one who killed so many have a child?—skin? He knows many spells, but is there one that can turn those screams into laughter?

He has been soft before. Once. And that is with this woman.

Many women have walked the castle’s halls: shivering, shrieking damsels at his feet; cold and calculating queens; fragile bodies on the floor, that he broke with the same regard a child does a vase that matters to someone else.

Those ordinary people who do come often have pitchforks in their mouths, and fiery words in their closed fists. Curses stacked on the end of stakes, banging like the castle is the church bell signifying their own funerals.

It is for this reason that the castle does not like outsiders, does not open its doors easily. But it cannot deny anyone entry. Unlike the humans’ doors, which find his master guilty until proven innocent.

They always came at night. At night, when the loudest sound is your own breathing. At night, when their fires echoed loudest, and their shouts burned brightest.

They came when the flowers were closed, when only the most eerie and vicious of animals played with the skins of their prey, and the moon waxed the world in cold, drunk shine. The sun could not watch them, could not show their blood-struck hands in their full glory.

She came at sunset. When the sun still glazed her deeds in sanguine auburn, but was just deciding to turn its gaze and let the kids have their fun. Not quite day, when the sun would kill things like Dracula, but not quite night, when the hours are named after witches, and lust is strongest—be it for the body, or the blood within it. Somewhere in between death and life, violence and peace.

This woman came with a knife in her hand, yes. But a knife, at least, was not a sword. It was not a pitchfork, a spear, a whip, or a stake; all weapons that signify, if the fight wasn’t there, you were bringing it with you. Not a war-starved weapon, pointing with mal-in—and -con—tent towards the castle doors and all the things inside it. Not a thirsty thing. Something that by default faced the other direction. Something that can start a fight if it wants to, but doesn’t crave it.

The golden woman came at sunset, with a knife in her hand, and looked upon this thing, this castle that others called ‘ugly’, and ‘monstrous,’ and ‘grotesque,’ looked upon it with awe, and gasped in wonder.

She knocked. She didn’t bang her fists upon the stone, didn’t ram pitchforks and assorted insults against the innocent doors, like how-dare-they protect their master.

She knocked, and the doors opened before she could raise her fist a second time. Maybe, just this once, not because they didn’t have any other choice.

The doors—foreboding, menacing, and all the other spooky -ings one can think of—opened to a world strewn in light; the demon’s castle looked brighter, more beautiful, more alive, than half the churches she’d been to.

Her footsteps were gentle against the castle’s floors. Not a slow, forced gentleness, but also not a piercing, purposeful march. There was no apprehension to her footsteps; her feet carried her as if anxious to take her to as many rooms as they could.

At first her steps were the only sound, enough to fool some into thinking they’re alone.

And it became clear both that she was not alone, and not a fool.

But when she saw the demon, she put the knife away, and used her words.

She used her words to repeat those she herself had heard: stories. But not the kind that make monstrous men run at the doors with naughts and crosses, the kind pious people buried along with all evidence that the world wasn’t made of black and white.

Not all the stories told that this place was cold and dark and full of death.

Amongst all the stories about death, there were others that said Vlad Tepes brought this castle to life with science, forbidden knowledge, and a little bit of lightning. Stories that say there is life here.

And, in exchange for proof that these life-stories true, Dracula asked for a trade, a trade that would prove the other stories true too. He gave up the killing a while ago—(the castle has been in one place a very long time)—but he was still not used to giving for free, and definitely not used to getting for free. Vampires trade in blood and names, not diamonds and declarations. Vampires trade in things they can swallow. This castle, too, had been a gaping hole set to swallow the world and everything that entered. Never once had it given.

And she dared to say, that this place, its master, should learn to give, when the humans have done nothing but take from them—or try their best to. He ought to be the one to invite her in, to ask what she would like, to dispense pleasant words and kind actions, when the humans forgot they invented hospitality, and showed no invitation for him to even enter their homes.

But she didn’t come with a mouth full of garlic, and hands full of superstition. Her feet did not drill holes in the floor with their sharp toll, they wandered the scenic route.

She was used to being cheated. Dracula and his castle were too. But that was not why she was there. She was not there for cheap tricks, or death. She wanted something real. A little bit of the life the castle has to offer.

Her defiance wasn’t that of a terrified citizen, or angry queen, either; rather the calm resolve of someone who is asking for something they know in their heart is good, and knows they will get it. The kind of person who believes there is good in everyone, and that this good will ultimately always win, and who won’t leave until they convince this good to show its face.

The castle has watched countless men and women cower at foot of count Dracula. Some, do have a measure of god-sanctioned defiance; they come with whips and scourges to defeat him. The castle and the king are bound together in their resolve against them.

Except one. Except this woman. One human whom both master and castle found themselves reluctant to deny, cast away, or kill, maybe even…taken with.

She may be human, but she was not like the rest; she did not light the night on fire with her thirst for blood.

So maybe, just maybe, they could let one ray of sunlight slip through the cracks.

She was also not devoid of life, and maybe that was the key.

‘Devoid of life’ was an accurate portrayal of the castle. Bats flying out of blackness is a good description of a cave, and caves don’t usually come with the brochure ‘teeming with life’, or ‘great place to take your kids!’. The castle had a soul-sucking quality to it; those who entered often found themselves leaving less alive than they arrived. It took after its vampire master. Those who didn’t actually lose their lives within its walls, often remarked upon leaving that the flowers bloomed brighter, the birds sang louder, the grass was greener, and that they missed the sunlight.

Sunlight. Such a base thing; vampires don’t need the light or warmth to be happy.

Sunlight. Such a base way to die; wanting to get out of the cold and the dark.

“Is this how the castle felt to you before my mother first arrived at your door?”

Castlevania was alive once. Once Dracula set the pumps, and its heart began to beat. He turned the gears, and its lungs inhaled. He forged the lightning, and it began to think. Once the books, full of unknown knowledge, jumped off the shelves to get the vampire king’s attention. He filled the bottles and beakers, and they bubbled, as if laughing at a joke only they shared.

They were both alive, once.

That waned, with time. The gears got arthritis, the books caught pneumonia, the experiments atrophied. The castle ached before she came.

And Dracula, alone in the halls, picking up books and putting them down again without so much as a polite glance through them, because he read them all before. Dracula looking into fractured mirrors that could take him anywhere, but deciding there wasn’t anywhere he wanted to go. Dracula, looking into old mirrors that don’t reflect him—like there was never anything to reflect, nothing alive here to begin with, and there isn’t a master for this castle after all. Nothing but a grave. Dracula sitting alone in his study, staring into the fire. No one to talk to. No sound but flipping pages and crackling fires—nothing alive. Alive but dead. This castle. Its master. Undead is the proper term.

The other women who came through here reflected the castle, or else the castle took the life out of them the moment they entered. Queens with malice-stained past, and cracked, icy future in their eyes. Just as cold as the walls. Subjects, humans throwing gruesome insults, silky flattery, or fluttering pleas at his feet. Just as empty as the mirrors.

Only one refused the castle’s bite. Only one walked in looking for life, rather than death. Looking for a thing no one thought existed here. Already presumed dead. Put six feet beneath the ground. But maybe it was here all along; maybe the light hid in the castle’s corners while the dark came out to play, and she just had to coax it out of its hiding places. Maybe the bell was ringing all this time, she was the only one who came close enough to hear it; the only one who came to put flowers on the grave.

Maybe when she felt the machinery pumping she knew the rhythm was a heartbeat. Maybe when she heard the gears clanking she knew it was the sound of inhaling and exhaling. Maybe when she saw the lightning, she wondered what it was thinking. Maybe she looked at these books, these instruments, and saw what the vampire king saw once; something alive. They weren’t dead yet—un- or otherwise. Just sick, and in need of proper treatment. She was a doctor after all. Maybe her first subject was the very books she learned from.

Lisa, who looked at this blotch on the sky, with Death in its towers, and darkness splattered on its walls, and thought that’s where I’ll learn to heal people. Lisa, who gaped in amazement at the beast of a building. Lisa, who didn’t shudder upon entering. Lisa, who didn’t scream when its master touched her, but turned to him with calm resolve, and told him she’d teach him to be more human. Lisa, who’s life eclipsed the undeath in this place.

And there was a trade that occurred that day. For Dracula’s immortal knowledge, Lisa would teach him how to live a mortal life. To travel the world as a man, to walks as a man, to eat and drink, laugh and cry, as a man. Immortality for mortality. They gave each other the world, as so many lovers promise to do. Vlad would make her immortal, and Lisa would make him mortal, with no exchange blood.

(Except to create a thing with both their blood running through it.)

So maybe, after all this talk of life, it is fitting that she wants to create life inside this castle.

Fitting, maybe. Fitting for her. But the castle is not mortal yet, and wishes it could protest that it isn’t the right size, refuse to try on the idea.

Dracula is apprehensive as well, for the castle and he are used to each other, they take after each other, because the cold, and the dark, and the death, and the alone does something to you after a while; you start talking to the walls. After the cold queens and quaking colleens leave, or leave their bloodstains the floor. After the beasts and their silver-stained bullets turn back into righteous men in the sun. After he simply outlives everyone else. When all the living things hate, fear, or else betray you, when all the living things can die, and you, who are undead, cannot, it’s the lifeless things that stand firm by your side. When the day ends and the shadows come out to play, when you’re the only one left, in the end you still have the walls. And then…the walls are all you have. And if you talk to them long enough you make a sort of pact, spoken or silent, with those speechless stones: ‘you’re the only one I can trust.’

Dracula speaks to them one day, says he wonders if he can do this, be a father at all, not to mention a good one. The castle cannot reply. But something deep inside the walls wonders if it might be nice to hear Dracula laugh. It might be nice to put on some different clothes. It might be nice for someone new to listen to from time to time. It might be nice to live again.

The castle is concerned. Used to doing things one way, being one way, and only hearing one voice. But that doesn’t mean it is unwilling, that it intends to kill the child.

It never kills anything—Dracula does that. It cannot do anything on its own, and that includes change.

The castle doesn’t like change.

…But that doesn’t mean it won’t.

And if its going to change, its master must change first. They must change together.

Vampires do not have reflections. But Dracula has a castle, and that castle will be damned if it isn’t his mirror.

Reflections are simple to change; put on some makeup, some war paint, a new change of clothes, get a piercing somewhere. Simple, yes, but not easy, to change completely, because that doesn’t mean anything’s changed inside.

The castle did not come equipped for child-rearing; there are no rooms full of toys and cradles and school supplies.

So if this is to be, they must build their son’s world themselves.

Together they set aside a room for the child’s arrival. Just one, single room. And the castle too knows, from the start, this room will be different from all the rest. They will put paintings on the walls, and banners in the halls; things to interest him, to tell him of his parents, at least, even if there are few other relatives to spend Christmas with. The carpets will be darker, instead of the stringent red, and they will make their words smaller, the books easier to understand. The rest of the castle is warm in color, but cool in atmosphere. This room will be cool in color, but warm in atmosphere. The fire will always be set in its place, and they will try their best to make sure the warmth reaches him; if the fire fails, they will knit blankets; if the blankets fail they will make him tea, or warm milk with honey; and when everything else fails they will hold him. If there are tears here, scornful stares will not greet them, instead, kisses and lullabies will be behind door number three. If this room lives, it will be because of something much softer than pounding metal and lighting.

If a child is to live here, they must change that reflection. Everything Dracula’s castle appears to be, this room will be the reverse. Separate. Something… other than the castle.

This room will bottle all the laughter had in this castle. This room will be made of and for living, not the death the rest of the place is steeped in. So much so that this room will not stand for bloodshed.

Lisa brings in supplies from her town; color and cloth, boards and brushes, needle, and thread, and paper; all the things one needs to build a universe.

It is Dracula who takes the paint, who changes the color to something other than the blacks and reds of the rest of the Vampire’s world, cementing on the walls themselves You will not be dark here, my castle. You will be kind to him, Castlevania. The castle doesn’t know its master to work with his hands like a human, but Vlad is not the same within this room either—this room is part of the trade. He doesn’t use magic, or science, as if he is telling himself with every hammer that they are going to change together, the way one does when talking to the mirror.

Lisa sits in a chair and stiches together cloth and fur to make little creatures, toys for the boy to play with. Soft things, not sharp. They are reflections too, littler, simpler ones, of the creatures howling and prowling outside the castle’s walls, or scurrying within them.

But it is the ceiling that is the crowning jewel of the room. Something they paint together—splashing it onto each other’s clothes and noses.

His parents love the stars. They often walk outside the castle walls, fingers knit into each other’s, to gaze at them. They are scholars at soul, and have charted the constellations. They want their child to be able to do the same, to watch the stars, even if he’s not outside. At the end of every day they want him to be sung to sleep by the symphony of the night.

For them, maybe, but to the castle, one of the most interesting things about this room, is the mirror. This is strange, as, while there are other mirrors in this house, they are nothing more than a silver decoration; they have no purpose here, unless they float in shards and possibility. This is an ordinary mirror. It does hold something now, however, and that’s Lisa—only giving more credence to the idea that she is the only living thing in this castle. The castle wonders if they think it will reflect the child, as if they are hoping he will take after his mother and the room.

The mirror, and the windows. In the rest of the castle, the windows are always closed, curtained, or too small to let any real light in. But here they are big, and inviting to all the wiles of the day. Dracula protested—fearing he would burn. Lisa insisted—hoping he would shine.

The mirror, the room, are empty now. The windows closed. The books and charts dormant as the rest. It is not dead, but it’s not alive either. Not even undead. Just a question. An almost.

The room lays on Frankenstein’s table; just one lightning strike—(or one child’s laugh)—away from breathing.

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