#i said it was fine lightweaver

[aesudan-kholin]

september 2020 -> september 2022

[nevertheless-moving]

I wrote it. They ask.

"So you're essentially an expert on honor, right?"

Kaladin blinked at Shallan, unsure what to make of the question. The three of them had finished eating, and had moved to a smaller, shared table for drinks, secluded from the rest of the building by a hazy curtain. The conversation had been drifting lazily from the city's latest scandals to squire hijinks.

"What?" Kaladin finally said, slightly confused at the abrupt change of topic.

"Of course you are, you're the first person chosen by an honorspren in thousands of years!" Adolin said enthusiastically.

"I mean—"

"And you always figure out the right thing to do!" Shallan said.

"That's definitely not—"

Adolin nodded. "Never murder anyone in cold blood, even when they deserve it."

Kaladin sighed heavily. "Where are you two going with this?"

Shallan coughed into her freehand. "Well, you see, we've been having a little debate about...honor."

"And we were hoping you could settle it. Impartially," Adolin said, tone serious.

Kaladin squinted at him. There was something off about his expression. "Can't you ask Syl?"

Syl was meeting with some of the honorspren with newer bonds tonight; she had insisted that she could handle it on her own, and that he should take the night off, but he was sure she would be happy to switch places to come by and give her opinion on other people's business; that was practically a hobby for her. He wasn't sure sure where pattern was, come to think of it; he hadn't heard him buzz in a while.

"Actually we did!" Shallan said brightly.

"She was our first choice, no offense," Adolin said. "I don't think she entirely understood the dilemma."

"It's a bit too, well, human." Shallan took a large sip of her wine, emptying the glass, but didn't waive over a server for more.

Kaladin felt dread start to coil low in his stomach, the fragile relaxation of the evening starting to slip away. "...I'm going to regret hearing about this, aren't I?"

Adolin leaned towards him, turning wide, pleading eyes his direction. "Please, Kaladin?"

Shallan matched him. Stormfather. Not so long ago ago, lighteyes looking at him like that would have filled him with derision at most. What had happened to him.

"Fine." Kaladin leaned back in his seat, giving in. He was a little curious, even though he knew he wasn't going to be happy with whatever he was about to hear. "What is it?"

Shallan straightened, as if to give a presentation before the Queen. Storms, I have a really bad feeling about this.

"Well, as you know, I'm a lightweaver, and can change mine or someone else's appearance, such that they exactly resemble another. I can also create an illusion, so that it appears that an individual is present, when in fact, they are not."

"...Yes?" Was Shallan nervous? Adolin didn't kill another highprince, did he?

"Now, obviously, practicing lightweaving by pretending to be someone else, when done entirely in private, I mean just me, myself, and I, practicing my radiant abilities, can't possibly be dishonorable."

"I guess?"

Adolin leaned forward now, one hand gesturing sharply. "But what if I'm there? I mean, no ones suggesting that it would be acceptable for Shallan to assume a specific private individual's form in public."

"Unless it's to save lives," Shallan said.

Adolin nodded. "Unless of course it's to save lives."

"Or as part of my crown assigned radiant duties."

"Or that, can't forget to mention that."

"Or with said individual's consent."

"Naturally, consent makes all the difference."

"Quite a few shades of grey."

"Truly, once you think about it. Infinite nuance."

Kaladin pinched the bridge of his nose, scowling to keep from laughing. "Did you rehearse this?"

Shallan waved her hand in his face, forestalling any other objections. "In any case! Would we be disrespecting an individual, let's call this person 'Lin' for short, would we be behaving dishonorably towards Lin, were I to assume Lin's form, or have Adolin assume Lin's form, or have Lin appear while both of us are present, soley within the privacy of our chambers?"

Kaladin waited a few seconds for Adolin to chime in, but he just continued staring intently at Kaladin.

"...This is about Lyn?"

"No, not Lyn, Lin," Shallan corrected primly. He could just barely make out a difference. "Neutral born unto. Just, we don't want to say her — say their name specifically, but I thought saying 'the individual' would get unwieldy."

Ok, probably not about Lyn. Unless they're using a confusing fake name to make me think that. He started to feel a throbbing at the base of his skull.

"Is there some specific reason you want to look like... Lin?" He dropped his voice slightly, rubbing his temples. "Is it for a practical reason? Or do you want to make fun of her — them?"

"Definitely not to make fun of them!" Adolin said, voice dropping to match Kaladin's.

"Many people would consider it flattering," Shallan whispered. "For their form to be assumed in this specific context!"

"We're just not certain if Lin would think that, and we're worried that it would be worse to ask."

"So we decided to ask you instead, since again, you're —"

Kaladin waved a hand at her before they could jump into another bizarre routine. "Honorable, yes, whatever, fine. I get it."

Adolin put a hand on his arm, expression earnest. "Look. If you think we should just directly talk to Lin then we'll do it. We just...don't want to embarrass them, or hurt their feelings in someway. We genuinely aren't sure how they would react, and I mean. You don't have to ask someone's permission for thinking about them, but this is a step up from that, and it's not like there's many people who have had the option, so...hence the uncertainty, and asking for a neutral, completely unconnected, third party opinion."

"Alright, I...guess that makes sense? In an extremely weird way." Kaladin looked between the two of them. Shallan's expression was open and honest, but unfortunately that didn't mean much. Adolin was earnest, but there was something weird about his posture. Guilty? Excited? "But why do you want to see a lightweaving of Lin in private so much?"

Shallan pretended to take a sip out of her empty glass. "I assume you can guess, bridgeboy. Is it really necessary for us to say it aloud?" She had just a hint of red staining the tops of ears, but she colored easily. It could just be the alcohol.

"I really don't know," Kaladin said, baffled. "Is this a lighteyes thing? Like you want to, I don't know...model fashion on them?"

"Ooh." Adolin suddenly looked far too eager. "That's actually not what we were thinking."

"I didn't think it was a lighteyes thing," Shallan said. "But I suppose it could be. I don't have a significant enough sample size to presume." That was clearly a joke there that Kaladin didn't get.

Adolin cleared his throat. "Well." He made another sharp motion with his hands, letting Kaladin go. "As you know, Shallan and I are married."

"Yes, I was at your wedding," Kaladin said dryly.

"We are married," Adolin repeated, talking over him. "And that comes with certain... duties and privileges."

"Among which—" Shallan was definitely blushing now. "—and I suppose this could be considered an, ah, 'lighteyes thing,' is well. The need to create an heir."

They can't possibly be asking me this. Kaladin looked desperately to Adolin, but the man just gave him a sheepish, apologetic grin.

A small part of Kaladin curled up and died.

Blood Of My Fathers.

"No," Kaladin said. "Absolutely not. You are not asking me about something to do with your sex lives."

"You see," Adolin said. "I know you've said you don't have interest in, well, any of that. But for many the process of creating an heir is not just—"

"ARGH." Kaladin threw his arms up, crossing them over his head.

"— a responsibility but a pleasure which—"

"Almighty's Tenth name!"

"—can be performed creatively—"

Kaladin pressed his head to the table, burying himself in his arms to hide his too warm face and probably disgusted expression.

"Stop. Please. Stop." He knew he was whining in a way ill befitting a Windrunner of his Ideal, but the booth they were in was private, and Adolin and Shallan had seen him in far less dignified circumstances.

"Sorry," Adolin said, patting him on the shoulder. "Just wanted to make sure you understood."

"Well I don't!" Kaladin said, looking up but not lifting his chin from his arms. "And I don't storming want to! Why can't you just look like yourselves! I thought you liked how each other looked! I've literally caught you drooling!"

Adolin frowned. "I don't drool, bridgeboy."

Shallan's face was nearly as red as his face felt, but her expression was significantly more gleeful. "I…there may have been one sparring session I observed…that may have generated a small amount of moisture."

Adolin cocked an eyebrow, and smirked. "Moisture, huh?"

"I hate you two," Kaladin lied emphatically.

"Sorry, Sorry." Adolin patted him on the shoulder again. "So? What do you think?"

"I think Rlain is right and its a storming miracle humans have managed to accomplish anything when most of us are permanently stuck in mateform."

Adolin heaved a dramatic sigh. "About our question, Kal, come on. We know you don't like talking about this stuff but that's exactly why we needed your opinion! You're unbiased!"

"And honorable, yes you said. Have I mentioned before that the rewards for being honorable blow?"

They turned twin pleading expressions toward him and he caved immediately. Storms, he had gotten weak. "Battar and Shallash, fine," he snapped. "Fine, give me a minute, alright. Just stop talking. "

The two waited, Shallan only opening her mouth to make a joke twice, Adolin successfully nudgeing her quiet each time; Kaladin lifted himself up, elbows on the table and head in his hands as he looked down, forcing himself to actually give it serious consideration. Wait, I thought Veil was the one who was attracted to women. Oh. Right.

"Alright," he finally said. "I get that people can't always help what they...think about. That's fine. And I also know that trying not to think about something sometimes makes people think about it more, so."

Adolin and Shallan nodded. "You have no idea," Adolin said. "Seriously, I love Shallan, I've absolutely tried not looking at other women's — anyway. It's so much easier to just forgive eachother the occasional wayward glance or errant thought." They squeezed each others hands.

Kaladin sighed. "Right. Sorry if I came off as judgemental."

"No, no, you've made it very clear that you don't like talking about such things, it's completely reasonable to be unhappy. We are sorry for the times we...overshare in front of you."

"It's fine," Kaladin said curtly. "Really. I know you try. Anyway. I also understand that people sometimes, er, fantasize. That way. About things or people they don't actually want in real life. And. Uh. Sometimes people... act that out."

Kaladin stared determinedly at the table, face hot. There was a swirling pattern in the marble that he hadn't noticed before.

"You do?" Adolin said, sounding surprised.

Kaladin coughed. The swirling pattern kind of looked like a river, viewed from above. "There. Might have been an incident, early on in the army, when I heard a couple and, er, overreacted slightly. They took the time to explain things in... painful detail. It's fine. None of my business."

"That's. Very open minded of you," Shallan said, sounding slightly strangled. "Tell me, when the couple was explaining things — oof." Kaladin didn't look, but he was fairly sure Adolin just stepped on her foot, something he was infinitely grateful for. It had been an extremely mortifying lesson. The pair had said they weren't mad about being interrupted, but he was fairly sure they were lying, considering how much detail they went into in their explanation.

"Honestly, the whole...dressing weird, or calling eachother names or using ropes or whatever—"

Adolin made a choking noise. Kaladin kept looking at the little river pattern in the table. If he squinted there were mountains and farms too.

"—all that stuff isn't more or less...unappealing. To think about. Then just regular sex." Kaladin paused. "That is not permission to talk about that sort of thing with me. Please don't share anything about your sex life with me, ok?"

"Of course!"

"We know."

"So," Kaladin continued, rubbing his cheeks to try and get rid of the blush. "Wanting someone isn't breaking your vows. Neither is thinking about them. Probably talking about them is fine too."

He ran his finger along the small river in the polished stone. He could practically feel two sets of light eyes drilling a hole in him.

"My concern, of course, would be for Lin. If playing around with their image would affect the real person. My main concern is it will impact the way you two interact with them."

"If we thought it did then we'd stop immediately," Adolin swore without prompting. "The real person matters far more than our...baser feelings."

"Absolutely," Shallan agreed softly. "We truly don't want to hurt them. That's why we've been struggling with this."

"I believe you," Kaladin said, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Alright, so you've already been...thinking about them, while together, and it hasn't impacted your interactions with the real person."

"No!"

"Trying not to think of them that way was worse," Adolin said ruefully. "I am...fairly sure they have not noticed any feelings on my part, and even if they had they've ignored them very politely so...like I said, if messing with lightweaveing changes that, we'll stop right away, but I don't think it will. We know who they are."

Kaladin studied the marble some more. He was pretty sure he had flown over somewhere in Alethkar that looked a bit like that riverbend, but he couldn't remember where.

"You cannot do this anywhere someone could possibly see or overhear," Kaladin said, looking up to make brief, serious eye contact with each of them. "Not visiting another city. Not where guards or servants could overhear, even trusted ones. Not in the duelist preparation chamber — yes I know about that. Not while exploring the less used parts of the city — yes, I heard about that too. Not in your sitting room or against the door, where someone passing by could overhear. Just in your own bedchamber, door locked."

"That sounds reasonable," Shallan said, flushing but solemn.

"Very reasonable," Adolin agreed, nodding sharply.

Kaladin grimaced, looking back down at the table. "I think...while part of me says you should ask Lin directly...that also sounds somewhat humiliating for everyone involved. I mean, again, it's more similar to thinking about someone than anyone else, and even if they were, er, flattered... It's not like you would actually be able to sleep together anyway, with your marriage oaths, so it would be a moot point."

"...Right," Adolin said unconvincingly. Kaladin decided not to think about that.

"So... it's alright?" Shallan said hopefully. "With those conditions? Not dishonorable?"

Kaladin forced himself to look up again, and immediately regretted it. They both looked far too eager.

"Not dishonorable," he sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back.

"Thank you!" Adolin said, with way too much passion.

"Thank me by never speaking to me of this again, and never asking me anything like this for the rest of our lives."

"Yes to the first one, no promises to the second," Shallan said gleefully. "Well. Now that we've discussed that matter, how about we get back to talking about—"

"Leave. For the love of all that is good, please leave," Kaladin begged, not opening his eyes. Shallan took advantage of this by kissing him lightly on the cheek. Adolin hugged him from the other side.

There was the sound of spheres tossed on the table and rapid movements, and then they were gone.

Kaladin opened his eyes, shaking his head. One of them had knocked over a glass in their haste to leave. They had, of course, left a small fortune to pay the bill.

He left the winehouse feeling...bemused mostly. Maybe he'd go find Rlain and they could gripe about humans and mateforms together. He would probably not make eye contact for Lyn for the next week, even though he was fairly sure they were talking about Isnah or Beryl. Best not to guess. He kicked off from the ground, the rush of wind immediately clearing away discomforting thoughts or lingering stress of the day.

He smiled, speeding up and feeling his heart race with the exhilaration that only the sky could bring, with no pressing meetings or appointments to get to. Syl had been right. It was good to take a night off every now and again.

[peachdoxie]

Thoughts on Wind and Truth, chapters 7-9 (whoa, three whole chapters!)

They brought the horse. They literally brought the storming horse. With Adolin riding it.

lmao

“No,” she said. “People stop thinking about them. They fade away after centuries… to be lost. Their sword vanishes from your world, and they wander forever.”

Well, that's sad but consistent with Realmatics, I guess. Hopefully they can fix things....

Ishnah: short, not particularly curvaceous, and with a striking tendency to use her Lightweaving to give herself edgy tattoos and black fingernails.

c'mon Shallan, step up your game. Give yourself edgy tattoos and black fingernails!

But then she thought back to a moment at the Battle of Thaylen Field where she could have sworn she’d felt the illusory versions of Radiant and Veil as if they were briefly real. It wasn’t the only time, was it? When one of her illusions had been a little too solid?

Yes, finally, this comes back! Also I'm unsure what the last sentence is referencing, if it's supposed to be calling back to something or foreshadowing to the rest of Shallan's Mysterious Past, or maybe both.

So she hugged him.

Kelek has probably needed this hug for several millennia

Yes, a rock. Dull brown. Huh. “Oh, sorry!” Leyten said. “I didn’t put that in there.” He reached for it, but Kaladin slipped it back in.

Can't wait to find out more about mysterious rocks showing up in places.

“Lusintia,” Syl said. “She’s an absolute bore. No fun at all. I didn’t expect her to join us.”

fucking foreshadowing in chapter 5 when Shallan couldn't find Lusintia. Anyway. GOOD FOR DABBID!!!!!!!!!

She sucked up the Stormlight Lashing her in place. Then, with nothing holding her up, she dropped to the beads after Adolin.

Huh. That's new. I don't think we've seen someone use a Lashing for Stormlight except the person who made it. I wonder if there's Identity fuckery going on with Shallan's "Be. Drehy" thought the line before.

All agree the first key moment came when Kaladin Stormblessed listened. Though not an Edgedancer, he did a fine impression of their oaths.

Confirming Kaladin is NOT the author of Knights of Wind and Truth and also yay, Kaladin listening!

One solemnityspren—rare indeed—spiraled up around him, like an almost invisible grey-blue serpent.

First gloomspren and now solemnity spren. Kaladin just loves attracting weird spren. No offense intended to Syl.

My brothers and sisters are mad from so long with life, but I am sane because I bathe in the blood of Radiants, which renews me.

This is definitely something a sane person would say.

“Afraid of everything,” she continued. “Terrified. Of the world. Of what might happen to my family. Most of all, of myself. I always have been.”

It's interesting to me that we now get a more full explanation of Shallan's Second Ideal, which shows that she's gone through some nice character development to be able to admit that she's afraid of herself.

Radiant formed behind the Heavenly One, made of Stormlight, her head nearly brushing the roof. A Radiant, as Shallan imagined her. Taller than Shallan, stronger, with powerful biceps and a thick neck from extensive training. Hair in a braid, rather than Shallan’s messy, fraying bun. Strong—of a different genre of strength than Shallan—with a Shardblade in hand. Abidi the Monarch laughed. “An illusion?” he said. “You think I’ll be distracted by something unreal?” He continued laughing until the Shardblade speared him from behind, spilling orange blood on his fine white outfit.

GET FUCKED

“Reality,” Shallan hissed, “is what I decide it to be.”

Go Shallan! This is also a terrifying statement!

[some-pers0n]

I was poking around my older writing and found this piece. It's okay enough to share, I think.

It's about Whiteout and Listener. I do not like Listener. I remember writing this when I was a little grumpy over some people on the Wiki fawning over Clearsight/Listener. I'm a wee bit of a hater, no? So I just kinda zeroed in on her calling Whiteout "Weirdout" and, yeah, here we are. Ableism warning.

Whiteout was all by herself in the art room, painting a landscape. It was coming along quite nicely as well. She remembered visiting the Sky Kingdom with her mother and brother when they were both young, taking in all of the sights and smells. It was unforgettable to see the tall spires that pieced through the clouds or the trees that spouted like mere weeds from the ground.

She was inspired by it, wanting to make it a permanent memory. Even after the school day was finished, she'd stay in and work on her project. Her teacher, Lightweaver, was perfectly fine with it all. Whiteout was a good dragonet.

While she didn't enjoy school all the time, it was safe in the art room. She wouldn't be bothered for how she would speak and how loud the others could be at times. She adored painting at home, but with...recent events happening she found it being more peaceful here.

It was perfect. Alone and completely absorbed into her work, doing everything to make everything as neat and tidy as possible–

"Uh, Whiteout?"

A new voice. She recognized it, her mind immediately covering that pitch and tone into a taste. A lemon, acidic and not too great on its own.

Ignoring her knee-jerk reaction, she looked over towards the NightWing.

"Good afternoon, Listener," she greeted.

The dark red dragon looked around the classroom. "Wow, is it always this empty?"

Whiteout titled her head, confused by the question. "It's... after school hours, is it not? I'd be the only dragon in here."

"I know, but there's nothing of note. No books, signs, anything. Kind of bland, except for the paintings, of course."

The two dragons stared at each other, both not daring to make a sound. It was awkward and tense for the hybrid, unsure of what to say or how to respond.

"So, Clearsight wanted me to ask something from you. It's Darkstalker's hatchingday and all that's coming up."

"And my own," she said.

"Yeah, I know, but Clearsight asked about Darkstalker. For some reason he couldn't ask him herself and wanted me to come to you for these questions. Makes no sense, right? She could just ask him for what he wants."

"Clearsight likes surprising him," she said. "I would also say that she likes having choices chosen for her at times rather than stressing over what to say to get my brother what he wants. It would ruin the surprise too if he was asked for what he wanted."

"Yeah yeah, right. You say that as though both of them could be surprised by anything."

Whiteout turned from her work, fidgeting with the paintbrush in her talons. "So... you came to ask me what he wanted for his birthday?"

"Just anything he likes, that's what she asked for. You're the dragon he knows the most after all, more than his own girlfriend. Surprising for how he's constantly hovering around her and his need to be there for every choice she makes."

Whiteout let out a small sigh, hoping she wouldn't notice. "My brother likes wearing jewelry from time to time. Earrings, rings, I believe he's told me about liking crowns."

"As expected with him..."

She bit her lip. "He also likes blankets. Him and I get cold a lot and he feels comfortable under them. He describes it like getting a hug."

"Alright, blankets and jewelry? Is that it?" Listener asked.

Whiteout wanted to say more, but what she wanted even more was for her to leave. "That's about it."

"Dragon of few tastes, huh?" She scoffed. The two stood silently once more, Listener leaning over to observe Whiteout's painting.

"Wow!" she whispered. "Are those the Claws of the Clouds?"

Caught off guard by the sudden question, she looked back at it as if to confirm. "Yes. It is."

"That's really cool," she said, walking over to admire it more. "It's like it's really there."

Delighted by the compliment, yet confused by how she was acting. "Thank you," she mustered.

"Though, it looks like there's a couple smudges here and the trees aren't the best... Plus those dragons don't really have eyes or scales yet."

"It– it's still in progress... I'm not done with it yet."

"Oh, sorry! You're super talented though. You're a very special dragon."

"With... my painting?"

"Yeah yeah! W– with your painting and such. Really great artwork, mh-hm. Is there...never mind, it's a dumb question."

Whiteout just looked at the ground. "Well, uh... thank you."

"Yeah no problem! Thanks for the question. Now you can get back to... drawing your thing."

She stared at her paintbrush. "Thanks..."

And with that, just as quickly as she came, she was gone. A small conversation, yes, but one of many with her that felt... off.

Disingenuous, even with her compliments. She had an aura to her that radiated a certain feeling, one that told her that she didn't exactly see her as one another.

Then again, being called 'Weirdout' a lot when she was younger made her true feelings more clear.

That same lemon-like feeling with her never faded or gotten sweeter. Perhaps she gotten better at hiding her feelings.

But, she was used of it. It stung, but she's come to accept it now. This is who she is. She's the dragon who speaks weird and, despite not talking about it much, thinks and perceives things in 'abnromal' ways.

So, with a heavier heart, she turned back to her painting. The unfinished flaws were more apparent now, but she felt less motivated to fix it. A part of her almost wanted to just... scrap it entirely.

Yet, she held up her brush and began to paint again. Just like everything else in her life, she pressed on, hoping for something better to happen by the end of it all.

[fandomseverywhereassemble]

I need to start my reread of the Stormlight Archive in preparation for SA5. The problem is that the other fandoms currently interwoven in my brainwaves like the lattice on an apple pie are Genshin Impact and SVSSS. And like, the last time this happened, I made a whole Fire Emblem Three Houses break down of what radiants all of the characters would be, and I think that would be so funny to do with SVSSS, because, like Fire Emblem, there’s virtually no overlap between fandoms. YQY probably being a Bondsmith is so ironic to me. You mean the character who struggles with the one Bond(TM) that really matters to him is gonna be a Bondsmith? Someone meant to unify everyone when he can’t even unify himself with Shen Jiu?

Each peak could be a different order of radiants, which would make one order of radiants just… entirely women. Bai Zhan is just one solitary Skybreaker (or Windrunner, but I think Skybreaker fits LQG more). It doesn’t really fit with SA lore but that’s fine and funny. Like, let’s be honest. What is cultivation if not just another form of Investiture? Maybe the Ling Xi Caves are near a perpendicularity which is why they’re a great spot for secluded cultivation. “Don’t go too deep into the caves. People disappear into them, never to be seen again.” They just went to another planet. Don’t worry.

The more I think on it, the better it gets I think. Like, some things start to Fit. Listen.

The Demons are the Singer equivalent. Why, because they’re the perceived villains who are Evil for no reason? No, because they were in the world first. Why would I say that? Because their cultivation is Strong. The book says that a three year old demon is already capable of killing a fully grown (non-cultivator) adult. While sy might have exaggerated a bit, it makes sense that they would be Compatible with this world’s Investiture. Humans came late to the world and aren’t as compatible.

Their swords are their spren equivalent. Give them a voice, let them change around somewhat, it’s fun.

Upon thinking about it a little more, I’m assigning some characters orders that they would fit in either bc I think they fit to a T or because it would be funny:

Shen Yuan: Lightweavers - this is a funny one (mostly because I’m not sure??? Where else he would fit???) but imagine him having to come to the realization that he IS gay for Binghe and that literally makes him more powerful?

Luo Binghe: Windrunner or Dustbringer - He can go either way I think. Windrunner’s “I will protect” fits but literally only for one person. I can imagine him saying his vows ‘I will protect my Shizun, who cannot protect himself.’ ‘I will protect my Shizun, even if he makes dumb decisions.’ But Dustbringers focusing on self-mastery, the most destructive of the orders, who are sad that they’re thought of as the most destructive. Dustbringers who are usually creative people who like taking things apart to see how they work. Dustbringers using their power to destroy for good (and to protect Shizun ofc). Also, if their swords are spren/their spren are their swords, then Xin Mo is absolutely an ashspren over an honorspren

Liu Qingge: Skybreaker - I said earlier that Windrunner might also fit him, and that’s true. But Skybreakers seeking justice as what SHOULD happen as opposed to the law. Pulling from Sanderson’s website, the current skybreakers are stricter than they used to be, so I think that lqg would be like the skybreakers of old. People that didn’t adhere strictly to the letter of the law.

Yue Qingyuan: Stoneward - I know I said he would be a Bondsmith but I think it might go either way. “I will be there when I’m needed.” That’s like, the most YQY desire ever.

Shen Jiu: Elsecaller - Listen. Hear me out. SJ cares so much about his cultivation and becoming stronger. I first wanted to put him in Dustbringers (self-mastery) but he’s too brazen for the order I think. He wouldn’t slow down to worry about control (think about all those qi-deviations he went through) and “I will reach my potential.”? That’s all he wanted to do, really. Become stronger.

Shang Qinghua: Edgedancer - literally just because I think it’s funny. “I will remember” but the man literally forgets like key things in the world he created (looking at ZZL and then sy as if to ask ‘did I make that?’). And having power over the abrasion surge makes him, quite literally, incredibly slick/slippery.

Bonus: Sha Hualing is a Singer who’s just constantly in mateform.

If there is anyone else out there who has this niche overlap of books that live in their minds rent free? Please weigh in if you agree or disagree with what I said. Or ask questions, because like. I can do some more Thinking. I’ve already done more Thinking and I would love to talk to someone about it

[lordreconnaissance]

Midnight

She saw them wherever she went, and it seemed no one else did.

In the caves, outside, in her den. They were relentless. They were watchful. And they were always, always talking. There was the Door, too, as she'd come to call it, glowing a horrid blank white, whirring and humming at the end of one of the tunnels that had been here when her parents had first discovered the cave system. The only place that was still and quiet, where she didn't have to watch her step to avoid everyone, was her parents' High Council dome.

Midnight would often hide underneath the table in there to get some rest from the invisible dragons. She'd overheard some secret meetings before by doing this. She'd had to act surprised when her trio of adults told her about the Cube; she had known about that since she was a hatchling.

Today they were particularly loud and particularly everywhere. But today, she had an idea.

Midnight walked right up to one of the invisible dragons and spoke.

"Hi."

This one was a kindly old gentleman dragon, who had been speaking to another before Midnight interrupted.

"Why, hello there, youngster." His voice was warped and warbly. "You don't usually speak to us. It's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too. I had a question."

"Fire away!"

"Who are you?"

The invisible dragon straightened himself up with pride. "I am Lord Glowtail The Fifteenth, of the Shadow Flight. There's a whole book about me in the library one of my great-great-great-great-grandsons wrote! I had many hatchlings before I joined the war, you know."

"War?"

"Yes, yes, one of the many waged against the Light Flight over the millennia. I'm surprised you don't know about that, youngster. What do your hatchling-watchers teach you nowadays?"

Midnight wasn't a hatchling anymore, but she was still quite young, probably a baby in this elderly dragon's eyes.

"So why are you invisible?"

"Invisible? What do you mean?"

"Why can't anyone else see you? I'm the only one."

Lord Glowtail The Fifteenth's companion, another elderly male, chimed in at that. "I can see him too!"

"Yeah, but--"

"Run along now, youngster. I've got a riveting game of chess to get to with my friend Lord Sparksbreath The Twelfth here. And we've got to discuss our quest!"

"Quest?"

But they had already turned away.

---

In the library later that afternoon, Midnight found it. The book on Lord Glowtail. She wasn't interested in the number of hatchlings he'd had (although 78 was quite a feat), or his expansive lair, or the amount of treasure he'd amassed through his various conquests, or even his eventual exultation to the Shadowbinder. She was interested in only one line in the book.

Unfortunately, the end of Lord Glowtail The Fifteenth's long and productive life came when he fell in his service to our lady the Shadowbinder on the fields of battle against the treacherous Lightweaver.

That was it, then. Midnight finally had her answer. She knew what she had to do next.

He was in the same spot she'd left him, now hunched over a table with Lord Sparksbreath.

"Cunning as you may be, you'll never win this," said Sparksbreath.

"I beg to differ, old one," said Glowtail, making an elaborate move across the board and knocking down Sparks's king. Sparksbreath put his great head in his paws. "Fine, but I'll win the next one."

"Excuse me again."

They both looked up at her. "It's the shadowy youngster! Hello again."

"Hello. I have something to show the both of you, if you'll follow me."

"Oho? A mystery indeed. Come along, Glowtail, let's see what she has to reveal to us."

She brought them straight to the Door. It was the same as usual, an electric buzz in the air around it. She hated it.

"Is this part of your quest?"

Glowtail scoffed. "Of course it is, but without a guide, we can't get through."

"What would a guide have to do to get you through it?"

"Oh, it's quite simple really. They would have to put both paws in the center of the portal to open it, and then we'd walk through and it would close behind us. If it were to be left open for longer than a few hours, calamity and catastrophe would follow. Nothing too much."

"Oh. Like this?"

Midnight put both paws on the door and it stopped humming almost instantly. The white afterglow of its light turned into a rainbow swirl, and she stepped back.

The two lords looked at Midnight with newfound respect. "Our guide," Sparksbreath whispered. "We've been waiting all this time. What is your name, youngster?"

Midnight held her head high and spread her wings for dramatic effect. "I am Lady Midnight of the Creed of the Cube. If you'd like to step through the door into whatever waits beyond, you are welcome to do so now."

"Of course, my lady," said Glowtail. He walked into the cave wall--and vanished. Sparksbreath gave Midnight a bright smile and followed after, and the door closed behind them. The humming was quieter now, and much more bearable.

Midnight turned away. She had a job to do.

[onlycosmere]

The Liar of Partinel

Brandon Sanderson: In this world, there are two competing ecologies. There's something we call "fain," and something we call "trune." And in this region, humankind, they basically can't live in the fain ecology. There's something called skullmoss that grows over everything and changes the plants; they become poisonous. And the animal flesh, humans can't survive on. We are in a city that is surrounded entirely by fain life. It's grown around, and there's a ring around the city; no one knows why it hasn't taken over the city.

And into this comes Midius, an apprentice Lightweaver who has been tasked with helping the people of this city by a mysterious mentor figure that you're not gonna find out about, but there will be some little clues. And he is brand new at this, barely knows what he's doing, and has been tasked with figuring out the mystery and trying to save the city before it falls to the fain.

He has entered the city, shown off some of his powers, had a different response from what he expected, and now he's found kind of a home in basically a soup kitchen for the poor that is run... they're the people who let him in.

This is from The Liar of Partinel.

"I want an opportunity to perform a story for these peoples," Midius said.

<Razal> snorted. "Like you performed for the king with that dragon today?"

Midius frowned. They stood in the kitchen, amidst <Razal's> bubbling pots, <Kale> dutifully stirring one to the left. The man hadn't needed to be asked. Already the room was beginning to fill with unemployed people. They sat, staring at their tables, waiting to be fed.

"How do you know about the dragon?" Midius asked.

<Razal> dumped a handful of spices into one of the pots. "It's all over the city, Jesk. I think it was incredibly poor taste to make the image eat an illusionary soldier."

"I did nothing of the sort."

"But you did create an illusion of a monster."

"Yes," Midius admitted."

"And now you want me to let you do something similar in here?"

"Nothing so drastic," Midius promised, "just a simple story."

"Why? I thought you were here to save the city or something."

"I'm working on that," Midius said. "In the meantime, I'd like to tell a story. I think it might help these men, lift their burdens.

<Razal> stopped pouring spices. She folded her arms, looking up at Midius. "Look, Lightweaver," she said, "you think your lies are gonna make these men happy? You think you can feed their children with a story? The Jesks failed us. Your master: he failed us."

"Wait, when was this?"

"Before," <Razal> said, waving a hand. "When <Torag> took control form Theus's father. The Jesks tried to placate the people, tried to tell them that a new age was coming. They spoke of art and beauty. And you know what? Their king couldn't feed us. People starved by the hundreds. Why do you think we turned to Theus?"

Midius's frown deepened. He knew the story, the history, differently. <Torag> had killed Theus's father, true, but it hadn't been the Jesks' influence that had caused the problems during <Torag's> single, tumultuous year of rule. It'd been the lack of alliances, poor trade instincts, and general unsettlement in the city.

And yet, the Jesks had supported him. And that was part of the reason Theus had exiled them. Still, <Razal's> version was skewed. Or perhaps Midius's was. His master had taught him the past was very difficult to pin down. "As fluid as river waters," he'd called history. "What paints on a tapestry, mixing and melding in liquid form, creating images and scents that never remained stable.

"<Razal>," Midius said, "you suffer the philosophers, even though I can tell you think their talk is frivolous. Well, even if you see my stories as frivolous, I ask you to let me tell them."

"Bah. You're as bad as that godspeaker, always pume to do things. Fine. Tell your story. But only after you serve food during the big eating rush."

"Very well," Midius said, "though I do wonder why we even do it this way. Wouldn't it be faster to have the men line up and pass through to get their soup?"

"These men spend all day waiting in line, Jesk," she said. "They wait for hours, standing in the sun and hoping to be one of the few that gets a chance to work. I don't intend to make them wait here, too. Get to work."

Midius took a stack of bowls and moved over to <Kale's> cauldron, filling two of them. "You're good at getting what you want, Jesk," the soldier said. Midius shrugged. "I would have thought that you'd be poor at that, after living so long alone in the forest."

"I wasn't alone in the forest," Midius said, taking the bowls and turning. "I had my master." Wasn't really an answer. But Midius didn't feel like giving the real answer. He'd always been good at making things he wanted happen. It was just the way that life was. The world worked as he wanted. Save for the notable exceptions.

Midius didn't let him indwell on that, however. He'd mourned over his master's death enough.

He moved about, delivering bowls of food to the men. Even after only one day in the kitchen, the work became rote to him. That left him to think and consider, trying to decide the best story for the situation. His opportunity came soon, the tide of hungry men slowing. Midius approached <Razal>, setting down an empty bowl, and met her eyes. Behind him, the sounds of dozens of wooden spoons scraping ceramic bowls echoed in the chamber.

<Razal> turned away and waved an indifferent hand. So Midius turned and felt the increasingly familiar flutter in his chest. He grimaced. A man who had killed as many shouldn't feel such nervousness. And yet, there it was. Perhaps a sign that he was more human than he'd often give himself credit.

"I've tried speaking about history," he announced to the room, "and I was ignored." Some of the eating men paused, glancing at him. It was easy to make his voice carry with so few people talking. "I've tried showing a monster. But I got the wrong reaction from that. I've caused enough fear in my life, and I did not come to Partinel to bring more."

Midius put his hand up to the side and dropped a handful of dust. He wove the light into an image of a beautiful blonde woman wearing a blue crown. "So," Midius said, sitting back on a stool, "today, I'll try a romance."

Many of the men perked up at the appearance, though not a few muttered instead. "I honestly don't know a lot about romance, myself," Midius said, tossing a handful of dust to the other side, weaving the light into the image of a princely man with a copper crown. "But then, neither have I ever met a dragon. But I can craft one from light well enough. Besides, I do know one thing. When it comes to romance, women are fickle, but men are fools."

He smiled to the audience. Most of them watched him. However, they didn't respond as his master had indicated. When he called women fickle, he expected grunts of assent. And when he called men fools, his intonation should have garnered a few chuckles. He got neither.

Midius moved on, throwing a handful of dust behind himself, weaving the light and blocking the sight of <Razal> and her pots, instead creating an image of a richly decorated room, complete with a bronze-rimmed looking glass and deeply dyed rugs.

"Now, this was a time before the coming of the fain," Midius said. "Many of my stories are from that time. It does us good to remember that our lives were once more than they are, now. <Lily> was known in seven cities as the most beautiful to be born in some hundred years' time. Wives spoke of her when they washed clothing in rivers. Laborers passed news while they cut wheat in the field. Even children knew of <Lily>.

"Eventually, news reached Prince <Helius>, heir to the throne of Lion's Hill. Now, <Helius> was not a vain man, nor was he particularly demanding. He was, however, an inquisitive man. This news troubled him. What would the most beautiful woman in the world look like? How would she dress? What color were her eyes? How would she keep her hair? He asked after these things, but no one could give him a detailed answer."

Another handful of dust produced a group of scribes and scholars speaking with <Helius>, who stood to his left. <Lily>, however, continued to comb her hair in the room to his right, looking into her mirror. It was a challenging illusion, and Midius felt himself being drawn into the image, transfixed by it. He found it hard to pay attention to the audience as he continued to speak.

"<Helius> determined that he would have to discover <Lily's> beauty for himself. Though his father, the king, objected, <Helius> left that day to ride for <Nanhell>, the fair woman's reported home." <Helius's> room dissolved in a shimmer, transforming into an image of a prince riding on horseback. Even focused on the illusion as he was, Midius could hear cries of surprise from the men at the tables as they saw the prince riding atop a full-sized horse.

The illusion remained steady, the horse staying in place despite its galloping, and Midius carefully added the faint sound of hoofbeats. "<Helius's> road was long and hard," he continued, giving a slight image of rainfall to the illusion washing over the prince. "And as he approached the city, <Helius> began to encounter crowds and large troops of men. He was not the only one who had come to see <Lily's> beauty. Indeed, from the processions he soon began to pass, he wasn't even the only prince who had come. Though he certainly was the most poor and the most humble. He hadn't even brought a single manservant. His only companion was his trusted and aged bodyguard.

"What's more, so many had come to see this princess that they crowded in tents along the walls outside. Every inn in the city was completely full. But Prince <Helius> was clever as well as inquisitive. He found an empty nook on the street, and there he began erecting a fine, extensive tent. The beggars who lived there were surprised to see one so rich pitching there, but the prince did not acknowledge them, instead chatting with his bodyguard and making up a story about how this street was the perfect location to view the princess when she went on her secret morning rides.

"Within a few hours, news had spread, and all imaginable kinds of people had crowded the streets to stake a claim on space. <Helius> retreated to an inn and was able to get a room from one of those who had left in order to sleep on the street.

"As his faithful bodyguard bedded down down on the floor, <Helius> sat by the window, pondering. Then he spotted an old woman walking among those in the street, saying something that seemed to make people there angry. Her attitude intrigued <Helius>, and he sent his guard out to fetch the old woman."

Midius threw out dust in front of him, creating the image of the old woman. He was completely engrossed in his own telling, prepared to move on to the old woman's warning that Princess <Lily> was cursed. As he began this part, however, the illusion wavered, <Razal> cautiously poking through, causing a shimmering of sparking dust to fall to the ground and shattering the back of <Helius's> room.

Midius blinked, bought out of his own story enough to again become aware of the audience. Many of the men were muttering loudly, and some had left the room, leaving their soup behind. Midius shook his head, coming conscious again, his illusion disintegrating. People, objects, rooms, melting down into bits of dust.

"You've had your chance, Jesk," <Razal> snapped. "Stop frightening these men away."

"But the story..."

"They don't care about your story, Jesk. Lies and fain illusions; what good are they?"

"Fain illusions? You think what I do is fain?"

"Well, it's not natural, I'll say that."

Midius looked around, sensing the hostility in the faces of the watching men. Embarrassed, he stood, last of the illusions exploding into dust behind him. Then he rushed from the room, moving to his chambers. Once there, he threw a handful of dust against the wall, summoning his master's figure. Midius's room was dim, since he'd brought no candle. But yet the ancient Lightweaver formed from the dust, sitting on Midius's bed.

"You lied to me," Midius said.

"Well, I am a liar," the master said. "So are you."

"We don't lie about important things."

"All of our lies are important, you know that."

Midius turned away. "They were supposed to welcome my stories. How often do you mention the joy that men finding in storytelling? How often do you talk of lies and their power to bring emotion? They're supposed to love me, not revile me."

"Is that why you're here, Midius? To find love?"

Midius glanced at his master. "So I should stop? Focus only on the Corrupted?"

"Ah, lad. Saving Partinel involves so much more than simply stopping the Corrupted. These people, they live, but they no longer remember why. They eat with dull stares. They work the fields without laughter. They return home to their families worried and frightened that they'll get sick, or that they will lose a child to the Year of Sacrifice, or that the trune ring will finally collapse and leave them all without a home."

"There is little I can do about that."

"You can remind them that there is more to life than pain, fear, and sorrow. That's the true calling of a Jesk. You look to give them stories that have meaning, but the most important meaning of your lies has nothing to do with a moral. It has to do with the way that it makes people feel, not the way that it makes them think."

"They don't want to feel. If they can't see how it'll feed them or bring them wealth, they don't want it. They revile it and call it superstition or foolishness. They care nothing for what I offer."

"No," his master said. "They do care. But they're afraid. Midius, this thing that you do, this is a noble and grand work. When you tell a story, you make men see through the eyes of someone whom they've never known. When they hear the tale of a widow's pain, for a moment they are that widow. When they hear a child's play, they remember what it was to be a child themselves. When they see a hero win, for a short time they succeed, as well. They may have forgotten what this means, but that is part of being human. Your duty, then, is merely to remind them."

[hungrytundras]

Lightweaver’s Domain Scene Edit

I wanted to make an edit of the BSJ festival scene. I’m also going to walk everyone through my thought process in doing this. I used a pretty low res image to start and only painted over it in a single layer so it still lacks a lot of the detail of the original, but I did not want to redraw it completely from scratch for what is mostly just an experiment / proof of concept. 

So with no further fanfare: Here’s the original scene that I started with. You’re probably familiar. There are also some marks for things I went in wanting to change: 

The structures have a few perspective issues with them, but my main reason for changing them around (and ultimately doing away with them) is two fold

They stick too far out into the water in my opinion. The soil underneath them is likely fine grained and, more importantly saturated, meaning that over time, a heavy stone structure like that is going to settle a lot. If these were originally built in the second age the chances they’d still be standing in the present is slim to say the least, and even without that, keeping them nice and serviceable would require a tremendous amount of constant upkeep. 

The other big issue I have with the central structure is that it destroys the sense of scale. The size of the windows, the docks, and the trees specifically give us a pretty concrete size for everything in the background and it comes across as underwhelming at best. 

A horizontal waterline implies that the viewer is standing at or very near water level OR that the base of those cliffs is beyond the horizon. Judging from the rest of the image, neither of these is the case here. We are viewing the water from above so we should see some of the coast line’s shape. 

I personally think the waterfall is unnecessary, but if we do keep it in, it should flow with turbulence. Natural streams are usually not laminar as they go over falls and drawing them that way makes them look unnatural. 

All that said, here’s my edited version with the structure cropped back toward the cliff. Any indicators of exact size and distance are removed and the shoreline’s shape is apparent. 

This also leaves a lot of empty space in the middle of the image which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, after all, the dragon should be the main visual interest here. But, if we did want to fill in that open water, I sketched up a few options for doing so under the cut: 

Option 1: The Harbor: Gives this weird building in the middle of nowhere a purpose and allows us to set a deeper scale. Also gives us some information about the world via the shape of the ships, configuration of the docks, etc.

Option 2: Sunken Ruins: Plays into my comments earlier on the woes of building in the middle of a body of water. Also plays nicely into Light Flight’s well established ruins aesthetic. 

Option 3: Boats! Stick some little boats in there. Bonus points give them little lanterns like that one scene from Tangled you know the one. It would make room for a very interesting night time variant as well.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Stormlight Archive Character Thoughts - Shallan

I loved Shallan in The Way of Kings. Her curiosity about the natural world, her enthusiasm as a scholar, her determination, her wit, her charm. Her absolute delight in having the opportunity to learn, to be taught by someone thoughtful and intelligent, to think about important things, research, and draw her own conclusions. Her drawings of plants and animals are a delight, as is her accompanying commentary. In every books, so far, I’ve hit a point where I got so caught up enough in an arc that I skipped the rest of the chapters to follow it, then came back after completing it to read all the rest of the book. In The Way of Kings, it was Shallan’s arc. (In Words of Radiance, it was Kaladin’s. In Oathbringer, it was Dalinar’s flashbacks.) Her delighted curiosity about things that aren’t mission-critical, her joy in the natural world and knowledge for it’s own sake, are wonderful. Kaladin, for all that I love him, can be so very focused, and Dalinar is, if anything, more so; they tend to shut out things that don’t have relevance to their respinsibilities or what they’re doing at the moment. But Shallan’s scientific curiosity is fantastic for its own sake, and also a practical asset - often you don’t know what’s important until after you’ve seen it. The Radiants need some members who don’t succumb to tunnel vision.

Though reacting to a ginormous monster that’s about to kill you with “Ooh, I want to study it!” may be a bit much. Not that chasmfiends aren’t cool. They are intensely cool. (They’re like giant crustacean dragons!) My reaction to one would still be ‘scream and run away’, not “This is a fascinating opportunity, I wanna see it!”

I hope that Shallan still exists. I hope she wasn’t just an invention that’s gone now. I think she’s real; I think Shallan’s desire to study the corrupted spren (by some very...creative means) indicates that the curious scholar is still a part of me. But it hurt in Oathbringer when Shallan was thinking “I should invent another personality who’s inclined to scholarship...oh, wait, that’s supposed to be me.” I’m more interested in Shallan-the-scholar (and Shallan-the-smartass) than Shallan-the-spy.

I will admit to being slightly annoyed by her storyline in the early-mid part of Words of Radiance. On the one hand, she was overcoming immense obstacles, going from being shipwrecked, near-destitute, and helpless to being in command of a large number of people. On the other hand, so much of that came from her inherent social status. Yes, Jasnah’s talk about projecting confidence and authority helped. Yes, her Lightweaving helped, and I love the use of it for inspiration and helping people to see and be inspired by their best selves. But her real superpower in those scenes was being a lighteyes. Put Kaladin, or put a darkeyed woman, in that same situation, and they’d be nowhere, because it doesn’t matter what confidence they projected, they’d be nowhere. Kaladin got authority and rsdpect because he earned it, slow and painful step by slow and painful step, by risking his life for people, and putting all his brains to work to find ways to help them in a situation where he had virtually zero resources, and then working himself to exhaustion to put his plans into practice. Shallan walked up to the slavers and said regally, “I will graciously permit you to help me,”, and ta-da! It’s just, the fact that Kaladin has already interacted with the same people - and tried, on occasion, to appeal to decency in them - and had a hell of a time with it, just makes it stand out how much Shallan’s status as a lighteyes makes a difference. So while Kaladin’s dead wrong when he says Shallan’s had an easy life, he’s not wrong that being a lighteyes has helped her along.

(It also kind of bugs me that while Wit is - with good reason! - kind and supportive with Shallan, in contrast with his treatment of everyone else, whereas his tone with Kaladin always feels kind of baiting when I don’t feel that Kaladin’s earned that.)

That said, Shallan has been an immensely tough - and, what’s harder, an immensely kind - person in horrific circumstances, and I do like her for that. And I love her relationship with Adolin - they’re adorable together, and very well suited. Their chapters are some of the sweetest - and funniest - in the book. (Though the top prize for a funny chapter still goes to The Fine Art of Diplomacy, if you ask me. Chaperone remains a solid runner-up.)

So I like Shallan, and I really hope we’ll see more of the scholar, natural history nerd, and artist in Rhythm of War, and more of her capacity to inspire virtue and greatness where it seems least likely.

(I hope she gets to go to the Reshi Isles at some point. She’d go gaga over greatshells.)

[themulberrytree]

character sheet.

full name: Shallan Davar pronunciation: Sha-Lahn Dah-var (fuck IPA i am not doing that shit again)

nicknames: strong one (by hoid), love, dear (by adolin), storming woman (mostly by kaladin)

height: 5′6″ age: 19/20 (rosharan years) / 21-22 (earth years)   zodiac: gemini (donut ask me when her bday is i donut have a date yet) languages: (spoken/written): veden (native), alethi, azish, selay (moderate skill in speaking only) thaylen (reading/writing only).

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

hair colour: rich, deep red, only red. eye colour: bright blue skin tone: shallan is very fair, though she spends as much time in the sun as she can, so her face is dusted with freckles. body type: slim and slender. unlike the curvaceous body type often seen on alethi women, shallan is much smaller both in figure and stature. she could be mistaken for delicate, at first glance. as she spends more time training with her blade, her body becomes much more defined and muscular, but she will never achieve any kind of bulky muscles, she simply does not have the body type.

accent: her natural veder accent would be considered low, given shallan’s isolation out in the countryside. she can speak in a more posh (re: acceptable) accent, but she has little reason to do so. dominant hand: right posture: shallan has the posture of a perfect vorin lady, back straight and shoulders back at all times. when sitting, her freehand always covers her safehand, placed delicately in her lap unless she is sketching. when walking, her hands are clasped in front of her. she is rarely animated in her posture when speaking, and depending on her company, she works hard to blend in. when alone, shallan may slouch when studying, or do her work in a very unlady like fashion on her bed. if she trusts her present company, they may witness this lapse in acceptable posture, but only if she trusts them.

CHILDHOOD.

place of birth: jah kaved hometown: some hick town in the middle of the countryside. birth weight / height: 6 pounds, 3 ounces. 18 inches. manner of birth: natural first words: pa siblings: (all elder, all brothers) helaran, balat, twins: wikim and jushu parents: lin davar, and an unnamed mother, malise davar (step mother), all deceased. parental involvement: shallan remembers a somewhat happy childhood (although the likelihood of that being the case is up for debate). her mother taught her how to draw, and was in charge of shallan’s education in the early years. much of her early years have been forgotten due to the trauma of shallan’s witnessing (see: committing) her mother’s murder. she did not speak at all for half a year afterwards. from that point on, her father became overbearing, and with each year he was less of the man shallan had first known. he was violent towards two of her brothers and the servants, often scaring away tutors, so shallan’s education in those critical years was sporadic at best. her father demanded complete obedience, and any deviation on her part meant that a servant got beaten in her place. in order to spare them and placate her father, shallan worked hard to draw little attention to herself and obey. it was her father who also chose her devotary (purity) rather than her having the opportunity to choose for herself.

ADULT LIFE

occupation: she is the ward of jasnah kholin, having managed to convince the woman she was worthy of wardship at seventeen. after being taken in, shallan begins her education in scholarship, fine tuning her skills in making logic based arguments, study, and critical thinking.

on the shattered plains, she secures work with highprince sebarial as a clerk while maintaining the work in finding urithiru that she started with jasnah, and working to infiltrate the secret group known as the ghostbloods.

she latter assumes a more public role as a knight radiant, the first of the order of lightweavers in centuries. while her status as a radiant is known, she works very hard to keep her work covert. she deals in spywork and information, and uses her lightweaving to form disguises for herself and associates. she has also used her abilities to battle unmade, work oathgates, and help run reconnaissance in kholinar.

as highprincess, her duties would include helping manage affairs of the realm and detecting intrigue to better aid her husband.

close friends: lmafo what are those????? jk, her brothers, later adolin, renarin, kaladin, jasnah (sort of, more teacher/student) wit/hoid (when he’s around). relationship status: verse dependent, married to adolin kholin in canon financial status: her family is destitute, and shallan herself has little experience in personally handling money. that being said, she knows how to balance finances and plan expenses. when working for sebarial, she manages to secure a comfortable pay from him, her later marriage secures her financial security, though her status as a radiant could’ve done that too. driver’s license: she could probably drive, but would be terrible at it due to the fact that she’d keep lookin out the window. she has little experience on horseback, but can manage. criminal record: technically none yet, having managed to get away with murder twice. she had also stolen successfully from jasnah kholin.  

SEX & ROMANCE.

sexual orientation: bisexual romantic orientation: biromantic, could be polyromantic preferred emotional role: submissive (someone pls force her to accept comfort i am beggin) | dominant |  switch  |  unsure preferred sexual role: submissive |  dominant  |  switch  |  sex repulsed | libido: she’s basically DTF anytime and anywhere, and yes, i wish i were kidding, but she’s just horny on main. turn ons: she’s into more traditional kinds of attractiveness, people who look put together. but she really enjoys some kind of hint at wildness, hair that won’t quite stay, a kind of subtle ruggedness. post-battle disheveledness  is HOT. allow her to talk about her studies, things she’s working on or wanting to start, she’ll love that. don’t be afraid to talk about your own interests, she goes off on her own a lot, so she’ll want someone with their own hobbies too. be kind, be willing to grow and change and share. be there if she asks. laugh at her absolutely fucking awful jokes. on the more physical side, not being afraid to show affection in public. that spot on the neck below the ear? yeah, kiss it. leave a mark. kiss the inside of her wrist. do not be afraid to be rough with her, she’s not easily hurt and she doesn’t always like being treated like a china doll. go to town. BUT you must also be good at taking your time. tenderness is a good trait to have in every day life, but if you can translate that into the intimacy of the bedroom, give her a slow buildup, ur golden. turn offs: unnecessary rudeness, lack of independence. anyone who treats her like she needs protecting, or thinks she needs to confine herself in some way, for any amount of time. never laughing at her terrible jokes, or indulging her seemingly random curiosities. being a skybreaker. love language: physical touch is primary, but quality time and words of affirmation are also great. relationship tendencies: shallan has a tendency to fall fast. even when she’s telling herself to be careful and take things slow, it’s easy to pull her in and have her grow an attachment on a superficial level fairly early. she’s good about letting the other person lean on her for support, but she’s not so great when it comes to sharing anything deep about herself. she has a habit of trying to mold herself into what she thinks the other person would like, and clinging to that. if confused she might play around with feelings, though she’s not fully aware she’s doing it. she’s big on positive reinforcement, she’ll let you know if she enjoys your company, and when she’s invested in the relationship, she’ll look for fun ways to spend time with that person. she might attempt to appear more serious and mature than she is, but her silliness will slip out. when she loves though, she loves completely, and a distracted heart is settled once she makes a decision about what she wants.

MISCELLANEOUS.

character’s theme song: flowers, from ha.des.town iris, goo goo dolls moth’s wings, passion pit: this is more a general vibe. i picture it when shallan is in a creative spurt. sun, sleeping at last: for the same creation aesthetic. fire drills, dessa (for when she finally Snaps. and also some lines just really Hit)

hobbies to pass the time: drawing is the big one. she’s always got her sketchbook and something to draw with on hand. it’s an art she’s perfected and uses it both for her lightweaving, and to relax. she enjoys scholarship, exploring history is of a special interest, but taking a closer look at the local flora and fauna is just as fun. she’s naturally curious, so if something grabs her attention, she will want to take a look. she also enjoys discussing what she’s working on with other people, sometimes just so she can use them as a sounding board, but also because they might have insights she doesn’t. it’s very fun for her to explore ideas. she likes going on walks, exploring the area around her. just spending quality time with people she enjoys too. mental illnesses: Dissociative Personality Disorder is the big one. ADHD, PTSD, some depression. physical illnesses: None. left or right brained: right fears: CONFINEMENT. she fears vulnerability and relying others, but she also craves it quite a bit. she fears being understood completely because she’s certain there isn’t anything left to love if someone were to see everything. she fears what she can’t understand, and losing the people she loves, more than she already has. self confidence level: extremely low. she projects an air of self confidence, but frequently downplays her talents. she finds it completely astounding that adolin might actually find her attractive in any sense, let alone be interested in her as a person. her trauma and what she precieves as crimes has left her feeling hollowed out, because she is so terrified of someone really Seeing her, she works hard to hide those corners of herself from others and often feels like she’s failing at even that. vulnerabilities: shallan keeps secrets. too many of them. and she can often dig herself into a pit and struggle to get herself out, and even when she’s in that deep, she has difficulty asking for help. she doesn’t always think things through. her dpd can leave her particularly vulnerable depending on which personality is in control (veil in particular has trouble seeing the Big Picture). it’s easy to goad her into a fight (of the verbal variety) and she will stop at nothing to have the last word. if you have members of her family to hold over her, that’s a good tool. and shallan cannot resist a good mystery, that is a surefire way to pull her in.

tagged by: @luck-crowned tagging: @marblecarved (for mary, emma, or horace!), @melnchly (meg or ros), @minastiriiths, @arturiusrex, @gxtenoughnxrve, @ambiidexter, and @arborvitas

[libralita]

Rhythm of War Chapter 13

Stress levels have increased dramatically

So Adolin is highprince and he has highprince things to do.

“Importantly, she wasn’t experiencing continued memory loss. So maybe she was fine. She’d stabilized.”

I dunno, doesn’t Shallan freezing up count as being clearly not stable.

Goddammit Mraize

Gobby huh? Odd name. Add that to the list of names to remember on reread

Good to know moles are on Roshar. Like humans, they ignore the safety and leave Shinovar.

“It was like a tiny parody of a person.”

Like Veil and Radiant

So Stormlight would be valuable in other worlds. This is going to make Era 2 required rereading

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH INFO

Good to know Radiants cannot travel to other worlds. So no road trip to Scadrial.

““I have news for you,” Shallan said. “Sja-anat contacted me while I was away. She agreed to your terms, and is sending one of her spren to the tower, where it will investigate your members for a possible bond.”

“Those weren’t the terms,” he said. “She was to promise me a spren to bond.””

Shallan, my dear, this is unspeakably stupid. Do not let Mraize bond with an Unmade. Also if Sja-anat is contacting Shallan via spranreed, is she the one who told Navani to stop abusing Spren?

Is it Gaz? It’s probably gaz.

Also you have orders like the dustbringers who are seen as evil. And the elsecallers who are edge lords. But then you have Lightweavers who literally bond to lie spren. Why do we trust these people? …I guess I would trust a lightweaver more than an elsecaller.

“And one close to him might have answers.”

It’s probably my girl, Navani.

So Gavilar literally went to Braize? Huh

Interestingggggg

I still find Shallan to be cosmically stupid for not telling Jasnah any of this.

[aesudan-kholin]

luke had this big brained idea for a story and i had to draw it so bad. the shenanigans

[thestarsofdragons]

So, Necromancy

Since I’ve been RPing stuff to do with Vardijurn, one of two necromancers in my clan, it’s high time I go over my lore on the subject. My lore on this is partly my ideas and partly inspired by others! My shade lore in general is strongly inspired by the shade flight lore posted to the FR forums by Ragnarok42, The Earth necromancy is inspired by canon and @the-true-earthshaker‘s earth necromancy lore with some twists of my own, and anything to do with Arenji follows the lore laid out by Desmondtiny on FR paired with my overall fourth wall breakers/gamebreakers lore. FR forum links will be in a reply!

There are three ways to go about necromancy, three paths to getting the power to animate a dead body and drag its soul back from death. The Shade, The Earth, and Arenji.

1. The Shade

The Shade is hungry, it’ll take whatever it can get.

This is perhaps the easiest one for just anyone to pick up using, indeed it can happen all on its own where shade energy coalesces. Unfortunately, it is also the most hazardous. Creatures raised with the Shade often return wrong, and/or go mad. Pockets of shade corruption in the world are the primary cause of the roaming undead monsters around Sornieth, especially the stranger and more vicious ones. A low level of corruption inherent in Imperials - due to a bit of shade corruption in the essence that Lightweaver made them with originally - is what is responsible for Emperors forming and for the Imperials own unpredictable lifespan. The Rat kings are an excellent example of wild shade necromancy that I could do a meta for all of their own.

So, really, all you have to do if you just want something to stop being properly dead is to put some shade energy near it and wait. Doing this will not result in whatever you raised listening to you or really caring about much other than trying to fill the horrible emptiness it feels inside it and causing as much destruction as possible, however. In addition, whatever you raised with this method will have no soul or memories of its life, it’s just a maddened shade-infested corpse.

If you want a sensible undead slave you’re going to need to channel the shade energy somehow, and if it was a dragon or other element-linked creature then carefully adding a bit of their original element’s energy back to them may be wise as well. Be careful doing this, though, get it wrong and they will go mad from the conflict of elemental and shade energy, so stick to simpler creatures and shade energy alone if you’re a beginner.

If you want to actually bring a person to undeath, however, you’ll need to catch their soul and tether it back to their body. Shade energy enables you to do this forcefully without all the rigmarole of making them have to want to return to their body that one may have to do for other methods. Cast the right spell and the shade will reach through to the realm of the dead, ensnare the soul you need, drag it right on back to its body, and force it to stay there. It’s recommended to use the minimum amount of shade energy and highest amount of elemental energy possible if you wish to bring back a person, as the shade you use to raise them from the dead will infuse their body and soul and partially corrupt them. The more Shade you had to pump into them to bring them back, the more corrupt they will be. Unfortunately for you, the more damaged the target’s body and the longer they were dead, the more shade energy is required to bring them back. In addition, the longer they were dead the less memories you can restore.

Be careful with using the Shade for necromancy, however. The more you channel it, the more of it will seep into you until eventually you are no longer yourself. Channelling the magic through runes instead of directly through yourself will forestall your eventual corruption, but contrary to popular belief it will not prevent it. Using this method, you will fall.

___________________________________________________

2. The Earth.

The Earth remembers. It remembers far longer than you ever will.

This method is easiest to access for those born into the Earth flight, with native Earth magic. However it is accessible to others; if they move to Earth, pledge their allegiance, learn the right things and ask the right questions, they may find what they seek.

This method is more stable in many ways than the Shade. Less danger to the caster, less dependant on the death being recent, less risk of madness as there’s no shade to cause it.

Neither of these things mean it’s easy or without risks.

One of the complications, for instance, is that you still have to get the soul. And this time you can’t force it so easily, you’ve got to lure it back, trick it or make it want to return. Without the soul you will be left with a husk and unpredictable results: some do nothing, some are slave to the necromancer’s will, some go mad. I never said there was no risk of creations going mad, just less.

Another thing: The dead must have been buried if they were not of Earth element themselves as the Earth must be shown in order to remember. Show the Earth the fallen, tell it your intentions, ask it to aid you, ask it to remember.

Once you’ve got the body and the soul and you’ve bound them back together, congratulations you can hug your once-dead uncle again now. However he might not be quite the same as before... Memories effect these undead; their own, the caster’s, and The Earth’s. For this reason Earth necromancy is often performed not by one lone caster but by a group of family and friends of the one being raised. By doing so you feed your memories into the Earth and into the Necromancy, and can form quite a stable undead this way. The raised will be quite sane and probably quite similar to how they were in life, and will remain so. They may loose some of themselves as you age and die, but the Earth will remember for you, and they will likely outlive you a very long time unless they choose to raise you as well. Some families are entirely undead, having raised eachother as the time came.

Raising someone you don’t know isn’t especially advisable, the only memories available to go into that are their own and the Earth’s and this is not enough for their mind to be particularly stable when they return, especially if they’ve been dead for, say, a few generations.

See, memories tell them who they are, how they’re supposed to act, what they’re supposed to do. As those memories fade, as the memories in their soul fade, as the rocks that remember weather away, as the living who remembered them die... They loose who they are. And as they loose who they are, the empty void inside them drives them to madness, to hunger, to destroy. Earth undead too become monsters, if not properly formed or maintained.

It’s also worth noting that Earth undead tend to be a bit slower and heavier than other undead, the stone weighs them down.

___________________________________________________

3. Arenji.

All the world runs on chance and possibility, some of us can change the dice.

This route is not widely available - indeed it is available only to female Arenji spawn, a rare subspecies of skydancer blessed with Arenji’s power. These dragons, like any follower of Arenji, can see the true way Sornieth works and have the power to manipulate that to some extent. Amongst their abilities, comes necromancy through a rather unique path.

See, it’s a lot easier to raise the dead when you can turn to the RNG behind the game and simply ask to have them back.

It’s still not an entirely simple process, requiring runes and time and special spells using the potent magic that Arenji gave them. Many spawn will choose to bind the one they raise to their command when they do it, so approaching a spawn with your dead uncle may not have the result you expected. Still, he’s alive, right? Just don’t be fool enough not to fully pay the one who raised him... She knows death well, he walks beside her and all her sisters.

So you take your uncle back home, he doesn’t want to leave her but you make him come with you. Everything’s fine at first. But over time... He becomes hungry, so hungry... And desperate to leave, to find her. he tears your home apart, he’ll tear you apart if you stop him, he’s wild, a monster, so you let him go. But you follow him, follow his path of destruction all the way back to her, where he stands, calm, placated, sane. This time, he refuses to come home with you. It’s him again, and he loves you, and he’s sorry, but he must stay here.

___________________________________________________

So a few options, and many ways it can go wrong. All normal forms of undead seem to have one common flaw - as soon as something goes wrong, they become endlessly hungry. In truth though they are not hungry - they’re hollow. There is a hole deep in their being that they cannot fill whatever they do, that their mind cannot process so it seems like hunger and it drives them mad. That void, unfortunately, is where life is supposed to be. When working correctly the magic used to bring them to undead fills it - the shade, memories, probability and the spawn’s presence. But as soon as anything begins to go wrong... Well, then that void begins to open up.

There are other ways to mess with the dead, and perhaps a way to bring back true life... But those are for another time.

[peachdoxie]

Okay so I’m like way late in sharing my liveblog of chapter 13, but I read it earlier and took notes and here they are! Man, what a doozy of a chapter! I have a lot of things to say.

Conjoined fabrials require a careful division of the gemstone—and the spren inside. 

Like we knew this already but hearing about it directly is like. Yikes.

Other types of spren do not split as evenly, as easily, or at all. 

Gimme the lore, Branderson

Shallan had to deal with Veil’s alcohol abuse. Again. 

Yikes

He was using that time to go ride horses. 

The paranoid part of me thinks something else is going on, but also Adolin is still allowed to have interests, especially if he’s grown closer with Dalinar’s Ryshadium after losing Sureblood in Words of Radiance, as the chapter later describes.

Shallan found herself alone—and for the first time in weeks, she didn’t have a role to play.

Inchresting.

The deal is set and arranged. The spren will come.

wat

Seven years ago now—and if that timeline was correct, she must have begun seeing Pattern as a young child. Long before Jasnah had first encountered her spren.

I feel like this is important but idk why. It sort of implies that the Cryptics were the first spren to start forming Nahel bonds in the current era, but, again, why? What are the implications?

She couldn’t see those memories; didn’t want to see them. As she shied away from them, something dark shifted inside her, growing stronger. Formless. Shallan didn’t want to be the person who had done those things. That… that person could not… not be loved…

Oof but also not true

Memory loss was apparently common to these cases, but the rest of what Shallan experienced seemed distinctly different. Importantly, she wasn’t experiencing continued memory loss. So maybe she was fine. She’d stabilized.

I have the feeling Shallan does, in fact, have some significant memory losses that she’s either unaware of or so in denial about she doesn’t realize she’s in denial of them.

Besides, these fabrials did the work of a dozen people.

lmao Roshar is undergoing industrialization which is probably a bad thing

When she became Veil, the colors in the room… muted. The colors didn’t change, but her perception shifted.

Neat detail. I wonder how that would interact with the various Heightenings of Nalthis.

His pet chicken, the green one.

IT’S BIRB TIME!!!!!

“Of course, with your powers nothing is permanent, is it? You deal exclusively in the ephemeral.”

That’s kind of a recurring issue in Shallan’s life, isn’t it, the lack of permanence?

His chicken held its prey with one foot, eating almost like a person did with their hands. The thing was so strange, so alien. It stood upright, like no other beast Shallan had studied. When it chirped at Mraize, it sounded almost like it was talking, and she swore she could occasionally make out words. It was like a tiny parody of a person.

Lmao “alien.” Shallan, you have no idea how right you are. Also, I’m going to guess the bird may actually be talking to Mraize since it’s a fucking aviar

Ask a better question. “Nalathis,” Radiant said. “Scadarial. What are they?”

“Nalthis. Scadrial.” He spoke the words with a different accent. “Where are they. That’s an excellent question, Radiant. Suffice it to say they are places in Shadesmar where our Stormlight—so easily captured and transported—would be a valuable commodity.”

Okay sure just fucking namedrop the other planets in the cosmere again why don’t you

A more perfect gemstone could contain the Light long enough to go offworld, but there is still the Connection problem. This little flaw has caused untold trouble. And the one who unlocks the secret would have untold power.

dear fucking hell, Mraize.

tbh I don’t even know how to react to this revelation. It’s so simple and yet so ambitious, and it would have significant impacts not just on Roshar, but on the whole of the cosmere. Not to mention: Investiture on Roshar is renewable because when it’s used, it returns to the Spiritual Realm until it’s brought back into the Physical by highstorms or a perpendicularity. What would happen if Mraize found a way to take Honor’s Investiture and have it be used somewhere else in the cosmere outside of the Rosharan system? Would that unbalance the Shards even more?

just an absolute what the fuck. there are so many unknown Realmatic ramifications for this. what the fuck.

“I already have,” Mraize said, making a fist. “Though putting the plan into motion will be difficult. I have a job for you.”

Great, Mraize already knows how to do this incredibly ridiculous Realmatic bullshit. This is going to be bad if he gets it up and running, even if Mraize himself isn’t “evil.” It would radically change everything, and there are many bad people who would abuse that change.

“I have news for you,” Shallan said. “Sja-anat contacted me while I was away. She agreed to your terms, and is sending one of her spren to the tower, where it will investigate your members for a possible bond.”

Ah, so this is who Shallan was communicating with earlier. But how did Sja-anat use a spanreed? And what kind of spren will she send, and how has it been corrupted?

Also, Shallan and Mraize at least know that Glys was corrupted by Sja-anat. I wonder who else holds this knowledge.

“I cannot betray this secret,” Mraize said. “Let’s just say that Lightweavers fascinate me, and leave it at that. And you should not fear if I did keep someone close to you. Such a person could be an… aid in times of need. Iyatil did the same for me.”

*tosses another piece of evidence onto the theory I saw someone make that Shallan, in a very repressed persona, is actually Mraize’s spy*

“Immortality, in part. He thought he could become like the Heralds. In his quest, he discovered a secret. He had Voidlight before the Everstorm—he carried it from Braize, the place you call Damnation. He was testing the movement of Light between worlds. And one close to him might have answers. At any rate, we couldn’t risk Ialai or the Sons of Honor recovering these secrets.”

I honestly don’t know what to make of this but it seems important so

“Oh, we know where he is,” Mraize said. “He has asked for—and been granted—asylum in a city no other Ghostblood has been able to enter.”

“A place you can’t enter?” Shallan asked. “Where is security that tight?”

“The fortress named Lasting Integrity,” Mraize said. “Home and capital city of the honorspren in Shadesmar.”

OH SURE BRANDON, JUST DROP ANOTHER FUCKING BOMBSHELL IN THIS CHAPTER, I CAN DEFINITELY HANDLE IT

at least my question of “why the fuck is SHALLAN going to Lasting Integrity” is answered

“Oh, you will. And once you successfully return from this mission, your reward will be—as always—something for which you hunger. Answers. All of them.”

So like, first of all I’m skeptical that Shallan will actually succeed, so that’s one thing. And second, what’s to say that Brando will just have Shallan learn things off the page and we don’t know the answers? Either way, I eagerly await how this plot line will play out. Whatever’s gonna happen, it’s gonna involve some hella cosmere Lore.

Mraize had never been willing to speak of that, but she had to think they’d been grooming her—and her family—for over a decade.

He knew the truth about Shallan’s past. There were holes in her childhood memories. If they did what he asked, Mraize would fill them.

And maybe then, at long last, Veil could force Shallan to become complete.

The word “grooming” stands out to me here. What, exactly, were they grooming her for?

***

Anyway. Wow. What a fucking chapter. So little action, and yet so much just changed. Rhythm of War is taking on a very different look now that there’s Lore at stake.

[radiant-flutterbun]

Here have an update on a gay dragon romance on this fine NotN eve

(Previously)

From the Abyss Part 6

“What the fuck did you do to your eyes?!”

Munin had met Marigold in the caves beneath the seaside cliffs of the Sunbeam Ruins. It had become their meeting spot recently. Munin didn’t like meeting Marigold like this. It made em feel wrong. Every time spent with Marigold put her in danger. Every time spent with Marigold put Munin in danger.

Now here was Marigold again and her eyes were bandaged and bleeding.

“I destroyed my blessing.”

“By goring out your eyes?!”

“Yes. She blessed my eyes. So I had to destroy them.”

“Marigold, this was so fucking stupid. What will the Lightweaver think when she sees you like this? If she knew you destroyed her gift?”

“She won’t see me. Not ever again. Because I’ve chosen you. I’ve chosen you over her. Let’s run away from her! Let’s live where her light doesn’t reach! Where we can be safe together! Fuck it if no one understands!”

“Are you even listening to yourself? You can’t just throw your life away for me!”

“I didn’t! I’m starting a new life for you! So I had to destroy the last thing tying myself here. Tying myself to her.”

“Marigold…”

“Shh,” She felt her way forward, slowly getting used to a life without sight. She cautiously placed a paw on Munin’s arm “Please stop worrying over me. I know perfectly clear what the consequences are for what I’ve done, and I am content with my decisions. I just want you to be happy.”

Munin felt wetness on eir face and touched eir cheek. Ey were crying.

“Munin… I think I’m in love with you?”

“WHAT THE FUCK,” Munin yanked eir arm away from Marigold “Don’t say that! You can’t… Not me! There’s so many dragons out there who are WAY better partners than me-”

Munin trailed off when ey saw the look on Marigold’s face. Ey could tell if she still had eyes, she would have been crying.

“Hey I didn’t… I’m sorry,” Ey grabbed her paw “I’m sorry. I never… Had anyone say that to me before.”

“It’s the truth. I know it must sound strange, but I don’t want to lie to you. If you don’t feel the same then… I understand.”

“Oh fuck… I mean. I guess I don’t understand what love is supposed to feel like. A long time ago I had some Shadeling friends. Being around them made me feel light. Like I could do anything as long as I had them on my side. Then when they were killed… It felt like I was drowning. And then I didn’t feel anything at all. Until I met you. What does that mean?”

“Are you asking me if that means you love me?”

“Yeah… I guess so.”

“Well I can’t tell you that. But your Shade friends… That was definitely a type of love. Do I make you feel the same as when you were with them?”

Munin pondered over this for a moment “No.”

“No?”

“You make me feel more. You make me feel like I could float away into space. You make me feel like as long as I’m with you, that… that it’s going to be ok. You make me feel like… My existence matters. You make me feel like I have a purpose.”

Marigold’s face flushed.

“Wh-what did I say something wrong?”

“No Munin,” Marigold squeezed eir paw and yank em closer to her. She nuzzled again eir chest and then booped her nose to Munin’s “You just said all of the right things. May I kiss you?”

“Oh uh um, sure?”

Marigold brought her lips to Munin’s, at first ey tensed and then ey relaxed. Ey nuzzled her back and snuggled into her arms. Being with her felt so right. Being with her felt like Munin finally belonged somewhere.

Munin didn’t want this moment to ever end.

[shardclan]

“The penny-pinching curs would let us perish if it got them another coin!”

“They’re going to need some kind of recompense unless you want them breathing down Her Majesty’s neck until this time next cycle. You have to give them something.”

The subject of the Merchant’s Guild was hot enough that even Stellaria’s persistent thralldom was pushed from the forefront of her mind. However, she was much harsher and significantly less cool-headed than usual, perhaps owing to some sort of astral-related separation anxiety.

“I will give them nothing. Let them breathe where they wish, it’s Rebis’ job to uphold what is best.”

Caress curled her violet lips. Thralldom or no, Stellaria’s coarseness was testing her patience. “And it is your job, as literal Tribune of Shade-Damned Commerce, to promote positive standing with foreign merchants and keep our economy afloat.”

Rebis tapped her focus on the marble top for silence. “I appreciate you two returning to this topic so doggedly—” Polite words, they were stubborn as horn-locked melprins. “—But reparations must first go to livelihoods in Noon Point and to the restoration of the clan’s welfare system.”

Caress and Stellaria both shifted forward in their seats, Caress with far more effect as Stellaria was still bound to her chair.

“Without the support of the merchants there will be little chance of repairing the economic damage we’ve sustained.”

“Oh now you’re for supporting them?”

“I always supported them!” Stellaria snapped. “But I don’t think it should involve compensation!”

Caress punctuated her words with heavy slams of her pebbled fists. “They. Are. Merchants! What kind of support do you expect they’re going to want after two and half eons of lost business?!”

“Ladies,” Rebis said softly but meaningfully. “Recall that I was tutored under Saber and that I cut my teeth on merchant discussions when the guild tried to cook Telos for closing Thunder’s March due to the Outsider incident that preceded my hatching. I am prioritizing Aphaster City merchants, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to leave the Guild to hang.”

“Now. I value both of your opinions, but this isn’t a discussion that can be had fruitfully without the attendance of a representative of Trader’s Walk on site. So, for the 3rd time in as many days, shelve that discussion until we can have it fruitfully.”

The two women sat back in their seats with muffled huffs.

A gentle cough interrupted the discussion from the entry. Half the table rose, a bit stiffly and wearily, to its feet to greet Hart.

In his typical fashion, he nodded to them all and waved them back into their seats. Inside the half-circle, he regarded Rebis for the first time since her return. She looked good. Calmer and a bit harder. Truly and adult, and no longer his charge.

“You look well, my Queen.” He raised a carved chest with the emblem of Lightweaver emblazoned in gold on its center. “I’ve come to deliver your ceremonial garb. The clan has missed enough celebrations. So long as you are back, I thought you might not want to let Brightshine slip by.”

Rebis raised smiled. With Samhradh enthralled and lightborn dragons at too much risk, it fell to an Arcanite to praise the Light. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.  “You thought right, that would never do. Shall we all take a break?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The robes felt made for her. Like a gift granted to her for achieving the status of Archmage. When this was all over, she would have new clothes tailored to incorporate it as a part of her royal garb.

“At penalty of re-opening the issue,” said Flaga, as Rebis settled back into her chair. “May I request that any external reparations the clan is able to provide at all be provided to the Beastclans?”

Rebis rubs at her celestine jewelry. The centaurs have had to work by night in order to be safe in the Summerlands, and they have not been able to utilize the area near House Perihelion at all. Unless they could turn things around quickly and recover the spring-planted crops allowed to go wild it would mean another famine year come winter. The previous one had already strained their relationship to tatters, it would never survive another winter like that.

“I believe that would be a wise course of action, in addition to physical labor assistance in the farming sector.”

Stellaria said nothing, but Caress did not look particularly impressed. “If we’re discussing agreements, what about the alcohol trade from Gethsemene which was halted due to inability to use the Sundew Falls as a port area with the astral having overtaken House Perihelion?”

“You’ll forgive me my skepticism, but have a single one of your districts’ clients has gone thirsty during this problem?”

Caress smiled and crossed her massive legs. “Of course not. But that is just the trouble. With Noon Point closed, merchants that didn’t funnel over to Feldspar have been watching the situation from Bramble Step. It is an entertainment district, not designed to hold thousands of squatters on a long-term basis. While they have paid well to drink my good wine, a low stock of rare drink is not an easy stock to replace.”

Saber coughed and leaned earnestly forward. “How could a woman with your funds and influence want for anything, especially given proximity to the Tangled Wood?

Saber’s well-known mild temperament spared him her more aggressive one. She knew without thought that he wasn’t trying to accuse or challenge her and answered him just as politely as he’d asked. “Darling, you’ve been dealing with practical and straightforward money concerns on Horizon’s Landing too long. No one buys alcohol like five hundred merchant caravans trading information in the absence of ability to set up shop and go about normal business. They have been ‘investing’ quite heavily in one another and in my richer patrons and that means my most wastelessly exotic alcohols are in the red.”

“Surely some of the merchants squatting there must have what you’re begging for,” Stellaria grumbled.

Caress took a deep breath. “Stellaria, my dear, your brain has been addled by Titi you thinks those merchants aren’t trying to charge me the highest mark-up they think they can get away with without insulting me.”

“Settle down,” Rebis said absently. She nodded to Azricai, who had been busily scribing the minutes of their days-long Tribunal due to Samhradh’s sulkiness. “I’m sure Gethsemene will have a mouthful to say about being off-shored since Wavecrest with a full cargo and an unpaid crew. Make a note—“

Rubranova yanked Rebis’ chair back and Nayvadius leaped forward, sword out and shield raised to deflect a strike.

Above him, the Umbra Wolf grinned in her feverish way. “Nice to see you’re in good health!”

“Same fi you,” said Nayvadius with his own grin, pushing her back. “Nah hard feeling, yuh? Me bed ah empty space fi fit you still.”

She swung her sickle casually at the far edge of the hall and flicked her tongue. “I mean if you’re inviting me, what’s the point if there’s no hard feelings~?”

“Stop flirting!”

The words didn’t come from Rebis. She was well past trying to force those two to be court-appropriate.

It came from Titi, who stormed in with Pistis and Phi.

Caress made a strangled noise and covered her mouth. “Oh my darling--!” She bolted from her seat. Pistis stepped deftly in the way of Titi-tet, seemingly unaware that Caress was running toward her.

She cupped Pistis’ thin face. “Dear heart you’re a mess! That brat has done you no good.”

Pistis gave a wan smile. “You’re being so dramatic, Caress. You sound like Generous. I’ve been fine and Titi has been a delight. I wish you had come to see me, you would love her.”

“I don’t want her!” Titi hissed, shoving Pistis and trying to no avail at all to shove Caress.

Even in her glamour, Caress was not a shovable woman, and looked down her nose at the shameless but pitiful attempt. She could crush Titi beneath her heel, but that wasn’t the plan.

“Move along you little terror or I will have Carnelian beat you with your own antlers.”

Half incensed, half terrified, Titi skittered away toward Rebis muttering something quite impolite about shadow dragons. “What are you doing here?”

“Running my clan,” Rebis said, laying a staying hand on Rubranova and re-settling into her chair. “Is there something you need?”

Titi squinted. Her mouth hung slightly agape at the strange calm in the room. She barely remembered Rebis, but this was not what she recalled. The person in her memories had been rightly crying in the dirt.

“I killed you,” she sputtered.

“You tried, yes.”

Bestealcian guffawed loudly. Titi shot her a dirty look and snorted in Rebis’ direction. “You can’t just come back. You lost! You’re supposed to stay dead!”

Rebis scooted back up to the table, glanced at the next order of business, and scrunched her nose. House Xanna was interested in receiving a report on the astral. ‘Report’ for them meant sending dragons who were involved to have their memories added to the Library. She’d have told them to eat dirt on principle, but they were offering payment. Very attractive payment, in fact.

“We’re in the middle of a Tribunal meeting,” she said, pre-occupied with just what that exchange might look like. “If you want an audience, it will have to wait. What was it I was saying before…? Ah yes, Azricai make a note to arrange a meeting including Caress, Gethsemene, myself, and the managers of all the primary liquor distributors in the territory.”

“As you say, your Majesty.”

“Stop it.” Titi snarled, her body going bright with a gathering light. “Stop Ignoring Me.”

It was high noon. As predicted, Titi had come at the height of her power.

She emitted a wave of light that was almost liquid. Stellaria and Samhradh wrestled with their bonds, suddenly agitated and nearing hysterical. The Tribunes looked away, but as the light waves washed over them they struggled against a rising compunction to look Titi’s way. To know her. To worship her. To play with her.

At the far end of the table, Rebis spoke: “Envision.”

She didn’t need the words any more than she needed her focus, but she wielded both. The pink ring around her eyes was consumed by the light of her vast magical power, and the high ceiling of the Hall filled with gilded shapes. Every eye was drawn up—away from Titi and to the shape that Rebis was weaving into reality above them. The form of it was near-impossible to make out, obscured in brighter and brighter light the longer Rebis focused.

The wings of a locust wrought in gold opened and Titi cries out in horror.

“YOU CAN’T DO THAT, YOU CAN’T—“

The envisioning of Lightweaver uttered a sharp and silencing howl. It did not speak. It was not truly her, but it was every bit as powerful as Rebis believed Her to be. Rebis’ capacity was greater than even Lutia’s, and her power was young and vital and near-infinite with the rising of Light and the recent blessing of the true Lightweaver. At that particular moment in time, during that particular alignment of events, that belief was not misplaced.

The light drew in, focusing on the astral with searing intensity.

Titi-tet was from a plane much closer to the gods—the astrals could perhaps even become as gods given enough millennia. But Titi had not had millennia. It has had a mere 2 cycles in Sornieth’s time since the Seat was moved and the Stones had gone to seed. There was not enough Light in her entire being to out-shine the envisioning, even though it was a mere copy. As the light grew sharper and brighter she was forced to look away and her body began to burn under the radiance.

Phi stepped in the way of the light to shield her, and Titi fled into a ray of noon sun filtering from the ceiling windows.

Caress stomped down a heavy heel. “Assombrissais.”

The panes of light magic that made the windows dulled and went black, revealing Titi’s fluttering shape as they shut the sunlight out.

Titi roared with aggravation. The shadow magic was infuriatingly simple. It had to be—Caress did not have any particular magical aptitude. But she was very well versed at making it exactly as dark as she liked with only a few carefully placed runes and a whispered word.

It was why Rebis had called her.

“Kill her, KILL HER!”

Saber moved from his chair to Phi with the lithe speed of an expertly cracked whip and pinned him to the floor. Pistis glanced nervously at Caress, who pushed her gently back to protect her from Bestealcian’s wildly swung sickle.

A wildclaw’s foot clamped over the coatl’s face, dragging her back and tossing her against the far wall. The Smoke Gyre splayed his wings wide and tilted his head at his student. “Sloppy, Umbra Wolf. I hope you’re prepared to be disciplined when this is all over.”

Beastealcian’s crest rattled, revealing her where she slithered along the stone arches. “I mean I have a date already but if you threaten me with a good time like that…”

A sizzling arcane bolt bigger than she was and quick as a shooting start collided with her and she fell like pigeon downed by an expert arrow.  

Arcanus stood before the entry pillars, his glamour shed and his vast wings blotting out the light. A snort released a small gust of ozone-scented magic, and a shield raised behind him.

Unless she wanted to try bulldozing through him and the wall of his magic, Titi was trapped.

Rebis climbed light-footedly onto the surface of the table and stepped just as lightly down on the other side with Rubranova’s hand to steady her. The apparition of the Lightweaver made of her thesis spell dissipated into strands of light that encircled Titi and hauled her to the floor.

Gold tears fell from the astral’s faceted eyes like honey from a hive, but any sympathy was held at bay by the otherworldly snarl twisting her muzzle. That was not a face a dragon could make. The creature beneath was beginning to show.

“I have been told that you can stay here,” Rebis said slowly. “If you relinquish your power.”

“Why would I stay here?” Titi sniveled. “You hate me! You’ve been awful to me and I didn’t even do anything! I wanna go home!”

“You will. But even though I brought you into this world, you still have to stay and pay for your crimes.”

“Wh-what?”

Rebis held a hand out to Azricai, and received the scrolls. One was Lutia’s coveted spellscroll, which radiated enough Arcane magic to make the astral squirm and wretch on the floor. Rebis, safe beneath her white celestine crown, felt nothing. “Titi-tet the 15th, Astral of the Light on High, I sever you from the noon sun and bind you to Sornieth.”

The name of the astral glowed white-hot on the scroll, and in Rebis’ other hand, an unfamiliar breed change scroll opened.

“You can’t,” she hissed, and her voice was no longer that of a hatchling. “You cannot hope to bind me to paltry dragonhood!”

“Yes, that only seems to work for the astrals who let go of their power willingly. So we decided to go with something different.”

Rebis tossed the scroll.

Titi screamed as it coile around her. She was not truly a creature of flesh, so there was no true becoming. The pain came from being given true form, one that had to come into being rather than being altered to the magic of the scroll.

Soon the task was done and silence took over the hall.

Pistis made a sickly sound and Caress held her as she wept. Phi groaned. Stellaria struggled against her bonds with fresh fervor, and Ashes rushed to free her. Though they had grown apart since he laid down Willow’s memento, she flung herself into his arms and clutched him with feeble desperation he had never seen from her before.

Titi, weak and mortal and changed to a breed that had no connection to the Light, weakly craned her head up.

“What did…you do to me…?”

“I gave you the shape of Icewarden’s firstborn. Proto-tundras, I am to understand. What more apt prison for an extraplanar being could there be than the body of a gaoler?”

“Why…? Why not just…send me…back?”

“Because you nearly killed the queen, stole the livelihood of an entire region, and broke most if not all of our magic-related laws,” Azricai said matter-of-factually. “You have crimes to answer for.”

“...That..that’s all...?”

“It is,” Rebis said, dispelling her magic and moving to untie Samhradh, who was frothing with the need to get the story written down. “It’s simple, we know. But this is the Analemma Dominions, once Aphaster as ruled by Telos the Indomitable, who raised it from the ashes the children of Clan Shard.”

“And in this clan, even the gods will be made to abide by the law.”