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hamliet · 4 years ago

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Dabi’s Missing Heart

So I’ve been seeing two main responses to Dabi’s character as portrayed in BNHA 292, both of which I feel touch on a very surface understanding of his character and role in the story despite seeming like opposite takes.

Take #1:

Dabi is an unfeeling monster created to show the redeemability of Shigaraki and Enji in contrast with his true eeeevil villainy! He will never be redeemed!

Take #2:

Dabi is a sweet softy who did nothing wrong! He will never be redeemed because of this chapter which is so out-of-character!

Note how they both have the same endpoint. I’m not actually gonna address the redemption question much because I can’t fathom what this panel foreshadows if not Touya’s salvation (alive):

I’m not looking to debate this either; I’m just putting it here because I know it’ll come up if I don’t.

Instead, I wanna address Dabi’s character. He’s my favorite, and I’ve been asked a few different times whether I enjoy him as a villain or as an uwu poor baby, and my answer is always both.

Dabi is a villain. This chapter’s rampage is, in my opinion, not remotely out of character for him. But neither is it the summation of his character, and he surely is not meant to make Enji look good by comparison.

So, who is Dabi?

Dabi is kind of a flaming jerk, and that’s why I like him. He’s an abuse victim who gets to be angry and crass and sharp. He pushes people away because he doesn’t want to open up to them and get burned (heh). He’s just like Shouto in that, except with a dose of murder.

Believe it or not, this is a very realistic response to abuse, and very common too. It’s good to see that representation. If the writing was indeed just “he’s bad get rid of him,” well, that would of course be a terrible representation. But seeing a mean victim get redeemed? Now that’s some good sh*t I’m here for.

If you want a sweethearted, misunderstood soft victim, there is one in MHA, and that’s Shigaraki. Dabi is not these things, but that does not mean he’s not a victim or that he’s somehow an unfeeling monster.

You see, Shigaraki is a heart character. Dabi’s the mind. (Heart and mind characters are a literary pattern that is utilized in literature across the globe; it’s not an eastern/western cultural thing. It has its roots in alchemy.) The problem is that you can’t have a heart without a mind nor a mind without a heart. If you lack one, you’re missing half the picture, and you won’t accomplish anything.

We see this with Shigaraki in his quest to look for ideals, something to believe in, purpose to justify/enable acting on his feelings/emotions.

Dabi, in contrast, has conviction and ideals, but eschews any kind of personal connection and care.

So, both Shigaraki and Dabi struggle to unite heart and mind--but they need to do precisely this.

It’s not a coincidence that Shigaraki expressly envisions both Dabi and Himiko when musing on what his purpose is.

Yet Shigaraki is able to unite more easily with Himiko as opposed to Dabi because Himiko is also a heart character. She claims to be motivated by extreme empathy that warps around to become a lack thereof (wanting to be who she loves).

Shigaraki’s motivations are basically revenge for hero society not saving him--which encompasses both a deep internal and external (societal) need for empathy and a need for better ideals. Shigaraki needs Himiko and Dabi. They’re a trio, and all of them need each other to grow. But Himiko, being similarly driven expressly by emotions, is easier for Shigaraki to understand and work with.

The irony is that Dabi is actually a very, very emotional character as well. But what he does (as is typical for a mind character) is repress them, compartmentalize, dissociate. He constantly pushes people away, yet admits privately, to himself, that he’s primarily (and paradoxically) motivated by family. This is emotional, yet Dabi claims he “overthought” and, according to other translations, “snapped” can be actually be read as “went crazy” as a result over overthinking (note: both are mind allusions).

Dabi repressing who he is--Todoroki Touya--is symbolic of him repressing his emotional side, because again, family and emotions are tied together for his character. Now his identity is acknowledged, and Dabi claims to be losing his mind (again), claims that he can’t feel, and yet is completely consumed by emotions. Like, does anyone think he’s being methodical and calculating this chapter?

It’s not just negative emotions (rage, hate) that drive Dabi in response to his family. His seeking belonging and emotional connection is present even in a chapter where he tries to murder two members of his family and laughs off the risk to the life of another.

See, Dabi first asked Shouto to validate his pain:

But like, given the circumstances, of course Shouto doesn’t really respond well. How Shouto responds is this:

Shouto’s words are triggering. And keep in mind I am not blaming Shouto: he’s in shock and he’s a kid. I’m merely trying to explain how it likely comes across to Dabi.

You’re crazy. Your feelings don’t matter. You don’t really care about Natsuo! You’re a villain and that’s ALL you are. Not a brother or abuse survivor. Just a villain.

So, uh, yeah, Dabi then retreats back to being unable to feel, dissociating as has always been his coping mechanism. But that’s not all: Dabi’s been repressing for so long that of course he’s gonna go a little insane in response to the dismissal of everything he’s trying to point out. Why wouldn’t he? His family dismissed his pain back then and now again, and so, without that heart, without those emotions, principle is all Dabi has. This has been present since long before Stain’s ideology came into his life:

Now, he answers this question of existence through Stain’s ideology. Purpose is all he has, and to him, Shouto and Best Jeanist are dismissing that too. Why are they dismissing it? Best Jeanist dismisses him for an ideal: the overall good of hero society. Shouto has a mixture of this ideal and also like, genuine shock and pain.

Back to Dabi. Dabi’s summation of himself and his purpose is incorrect and harmful to himself and others. I’m not excusing him or justifying, just explaining. It’s a tragic reflection of what Endeavor raised both Touya and Shouto to be (and thereby ironic that BJ uses an ideal to dismiss him):

Instead of being raised to be the symbol of hero society--as Endeavor intended--he exists to destroy it. The root is the same: Dabi assumes he exists for hero society, as a tool. He dehumanizes himself, hence why his quirk physically harms him (which also fits his almost religious zeal for Stain’s ideology). But it is not all Dabi is. He’s not a tool, he’s a person, but to acknowledge he’s a person involves acknowledging his heart/emotional desires, and that gets to my next point.

Dabi’s not a reliable narrator about himself. At all. I’ve written about Dabi and dissociation before. So let’s look at Dabi’s devotion to his ideals, the ideals he puts above people and claims he only cares about... because there are moments where Dabi goes against those ideals.

For one example, Dabi’s gone against those ideals when he’s allowed his personal need for revenge (an emotional/heart motivation) to overcome his longterm plan. Like, he was fully about to get himself killed here, even though that would likely mean no one would know the corruption of the Todoroki family and hero society, just for the chance to prove to his father that he hurt him.

In addition, I’ve talked before about how Dabi’s the only character in the entire damn manga to comment that maybe using child soldiers is not okay. While it’s not explicitly stated, it’s reasonable to conclude that Dabi considers the abuse of children in hero training a sin of hero society that ought to be purged (hence, part of his ideals).

That said, I have also pointed out that Dabi has gone after children in the past when it benefits his mission (Bakugou would like a word). So let’s look at four examples of Dabi and his principles concerning kids--since, after all, he claims to be motivated by heroes who hurt kids.

Firstly, Dabi’s “save the cat” when he spared Aoyama.

Why did he spare Aoyama? We can only speculate, but it seems quite likely there are two reasons: 1) hurting Aoyama would not add anything to his overall goal of downing hero society, and 2) a terrified, cowering kid might just have been a teeny bit familiar to Dabi. Here, his ideals--destroying hero society--either take a backseat to a reflection of his personal pain (and)/or his ideal of not abusing kids directly contradicted his ideal of bringing down hero society. But the important part is that in this instance, Dabi chose mercy and the goal of bringing down hero society was jeopardized as a result.

So then why did he attack Tokoyami, Nejire, and Shouto this arc? Well, Dabi does things he knows are wrong for the sake of accomplishing his overall purpose. He does things he knows hurt himself for this purpose. This isn’t new. If he can’t be acknowledged, can’t exist as a person with emotions, then he at least will ensure he still has a purpose.

In addition, let’s look at what sets Dabi off in all of these instances. (Again, this isn’t me saying “well actually Dabi’s justified.” He’s not. I’m just pointing to what’s in the text to explain the machinations beyond “bad guy do bad.”)

Dabi tries to reason with Tokoyami, pointing out that Twice was doing essentially what Tokoyami is doing: trying to save his friend(s), but Tokoyami doesn’t listen (also again: not me saying Tokoyami should have listened--realistically, in this situation, it makes sense Tokoyami trusted his mentor!)

Only after his reasoning was rejected did Dabi go to flames mode. He could have just let Tokoyami save Hawks, but instead he really wanted to kill Hawks and that overrode his other principles. Was this just because of his furthering his goal--killing the #2 hero would help destroy hero society--or because of a sense of personal revenge for Twice? That’s open for interpretation (in my opinion, it’s likely a mixture, because again, it tends to intertwine more than Dabi likes to think it does). His principles and/or emotions are brushed aside, and Dabi Does Not Like That.

Dabi does this again with Shouto this chapter, asking him where he stands on their family issues, and gets brushed aside, and then Shouto goes into his rage mode and Dabi responds. Again, not saying Shouto is rational here or that he should side with Dabi’s murderous plan, but like, his words really don’t come across well to Dabi.

Dabi going after Shouto after explaining things, asking Shouto for help, and then having his pain dismissed is pretty much a repeat of Tokoyami. When Dabi’s pain is dismissed, he says fine, let’s aim for the highest principle possible: making Stain’s will a reality, and damn any emotional ties.

Dabi’s obsession with ideals, you might say, is a smokescreen to cover his own pain. Far from feeling nothing, he feels very deeply. (I promise I’m getting to Nejire.)

So what does this indicate? Well, that Dabi does have a heart and a conscience. But when he lets his heart act, when his heart reaches out, he gets burned. His heart jeopardizes his overall purpose, so he most often dissociates himself from it. But by pretending he doesn’t have a heart, he dehumanizes himself, and he projects that dehumanization onto others (see: seeing Shouto as an extension of Endeavor, when that’s actually the precise image Shouto is trying to shed).

It’s not a coincidence that Shigaraki has been unconscious during the entire confrontation with Endeavor, nor is it a coincidence that Himiko has been MIA. But, Shigaraki wakes up a bit this chapter not only when hearing Dabi spout about how hero society needs to burn, an ideal/the thing Shigaraki lacks, and through a less important but still-ideal-driven character in Spinner asking him to accomplish his supposed ideal of destruction, but when Dabi saves Shigaraki and Spinner.

Dabi doesn’t burn Nejire for lols (not that this makes it better because it doesn’t) or even for ideals. He burns her to save Shigaraki and Spinner, because they are his links to full humanity right now.

(Again, this is also dissociation and projection: Endeavor did this! No, Dabi, you did. You’re perpetuating violence against kids rather than stopping it.)

But anyways, when Dabi calls upon heart, Shigaraki wakes. He lends Gigantomachia and thereby Dabi and the league power.

Dabi can only grow and actually accomplish anything related to his ideals (fixing hero society) through accepting a heart--even though that will likely mean some painful surgery to shift his ideals to accommodate said heart, because pure ideals don’t leave much room for humanity. He needs to feel to actually change anything, because right now he’s just making things worse (hence, the need for saving and redemption).

I know the League aren’t the protagonists of the serIes, but their complaints aren’t exactly incorrect either (if anything they’re almost a little too valid). But through growing together, Dabi, Shigaraki, and Himiko might actually be able to accomplish something, and get themselves in a place where they can be reached and saved by Shouto, Deku, and Ochaco. Because to be saved, the kids will have to acknowledge the villains’ pain and complaints, and do something about it.

#bnha 292 #bnha meta #mha 292 #mha meta #dabi #todoroki shouto #todoroki touya #todoroki enji #hado nejire #toga himiko #shigaraki tomura #shimura tenko #best jeanist #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha theory #mha theory #league of villains #spinner

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lady-of-lyon · 4 years ago

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So, I made one post a while back about how awesomely feminist the show Wild Kratts was, with how its two main female characters were women of color in engineering and deserving roles of power, female villains who weren’t motivated by spite or quest for youth, etc, but today I wanted to talk about something slightly different, that I’ve wanted to cover for a while now, because I also think it’s very good - and that’s how the show portrays masculinity, in a way that’s really positive!

First, we have our two main characters, Chris and Martin Kratt. Keep in mind these two are basically self-inserts - and there are plenty of creators, especially males, who have used self-insert characters in really scummy ways - all I have to say is Powerpuff Girls reboot and you know exactly what I’m talking about. Even if they weren’t literal self-inserts, male characters, superheroes especially, oftentimes serve the male power fantasy, being just the strong, stoic, all-powerful person so many boys are told they’re supposed to be. I could get into a whole discussion about how the male power fantasy is present even when males are not (ever look through a fashion magazine and wonder why there are so few men? Sure, part of it is that the industry thrives off exploiting women’s insecurities, and men aren’t as concerned for their appearance, but another part of it is so that the guy, looking through it, can feel like he has no competition for these women - there’s a reason so many comedians have jokes about fashion magazines being their sexual awakening as kids. It’s really scummy) but that’s not what this is about. So, the bros had every opportunity to do just that - make themselves these traditional heroes who aren’t actually really good role models, like batman or what have you. It’s certainly not uncommon for celebrity cartoons to do stuff like that. But Martin and Chris chose a different approach. They’re pretty strong standouts for positive masculinity. They’re openly affectionate - both with eachother as brothers, and with their friends. They cry, sometimes over little things - most of the time when big superheroes cry, it’s ‘cause they lost the girl they loved or their mentor or something like that, only in the big, most agonizing moments do they shed a tear. But here, Chris or Martin will cry just because they’ve had a bad day, or because they’re overwhelmed and overjoyed that someone named a mantis after them! In a lot of shows or movies when a guy cries over something little, it’s usually played for laughs, or to emasculate him, but here it’s casual without being unreasonable or overdone. The brothers cry just ad much, maybe even more (haven’t gone back and counted or anything) as the girls do. Not to mention, it’s a very nice depiction of a loving, healthy sibling relationship. As the youngest sibling myself, it’s refreshing to see a pair who don’t abuse eachother with noogies or cruel and snarky remarks. When they do fight, it’s never a screaming match, and also because they had a conflict of interest or disagreed over a fact, not because, say, one of them stole the other’s shirt or is neglecting the other’s feelings. Kids, being very impressionable, get exposed to a lot of abusive sibling relationships played as normal in media, and start thinking this is how siblings are and should act. For instance, my sister (who is now my best friend and has gotten over all these bad habits over time) when she was younger watched a lot of Kim Possible, a show that is great, but has a bad family dynamic with Kim and her little siblings. The “tweebs” as she calls them are always irresponsible, destructive, and making Kim annoyed to no end. My older brother was one of the most polite, reserved, kind little kids, but she still treated him like he was a brat and a nuisance, because that’s what shows like Kim Possible taught her little brothers were. Additionally, I was always treated like a spoiled crybaby who just wanted attention and got away with everything - I was not any of those things, ever, but that’s what shows teach you little sisters are. Sure, Wild Kratts has a smidge of that, with Chris seemingly being the stereotype of the know-it-all little sibling, but instead of being constantly looked town upon for being too “perfect” like with Hailey Long in American Dragon, Martin often praises his brother for his abilities. Sure, Martin gets annoyed when Chris tries to correct him on things, like in the episode Wolf Hawks, but everyone else does too, so it feels more like a take-down of mansplaining than a sibling spat.

I talked too in the feminist post about how refreshing it is that Chris and Martin more or less willingly put themselves under the authority of Koki and Aviva, two women of color. I don’t think it’s possible to say any one character is the “leader,” they all work as a evenly balanced team, but it’s safe to say that Koki and Aviva make the more responsible decisions. The bros try to get out of their calls a few times, but the show plays it more like they’re being irresponsible, and less like they’re renegade cool dudes who don’t take nothing from nobody, especially not two girls. They are pretty much always punished via karma for their reckless choices, most especially in To Touch a Hummingbird, where their arrogant attitudes blow up in their faces rather spectacularly. We also never see the narrative most present in sitcoms, where the male leads mess up and go out of their way to cover it up and ultimately gets away with it - after all, you have to root for them, right, because sure they messed up and had no consequences, but aren’t they just so lovable? No, here Martin and Chris always have to fix their wrongdoing, and it’s always deserved when they get comeuppance. Another aspect of the show I like is that, many times, when the bros get captured or are in peril, they are saved by the women - and most refreshing of all, there’s never a moment of “wink wink nudge nudge wow I can’t believe I had to be rescued by a GIRL” or even “wow you saved me you’re pretty good honey guess I shouldn’t have underestimated you, you go girl!” No, when the girls save them, it’s just - you know, relief? Because they were saved? It’s never a scenario played as an exception, or any more dire than when the bros need to rescue eachother. The bros are genuinely happy to have them as teammates. The show even did the standard “boys vs girls” episode in the form of When Fish Fly - but instead of being actually girls vs. boys, it’s engineers vs. adventurers. There’s nothing really gendered about it - the girls happen to be engineers, and the boys happen to be adventurers. And the episode doesn’t end with the boys being “wow gosh darn I shouldn’t have doubted you girls are better at everything,” it’s a mutual agreement that both parties have hard jobs. Basically, the bros are very naturally respectful of women. That plays more into their feminist narrative too, but either way, it’s refreshing.

Then, we have Jimmy! Jimmy, the lovable gamerboy pizza man. At first glance Jimmy seems like the stereotypical cowardly, pathetic, emasculated loser. He’s frightened of most things, as of yet has no power suit, and he BAKES for crying out loud! But none of these things are framed as terribly bad traits. Sure, we laugh when he screams and runs from an animal, but though it happens over and over, the crew doesn’t get sick of it. They don’t berate him or belittle him because he’s so gosh darn cowardly. There’s a great scene in Rattlesnake Crystal where Jimmy has to deliver something to the bros alone, in the middle of a spooky desert. He is terrified the whole time, sprinting off after he delivers the goods. When Martin and Chris run into him, they don’t laugh at him for being spooked, they just greet and then bid fair well to their friend. To them, this is just Jimmy, and there’s nothing wrong with it. Jimmy isn’t coddled, but he is reassured many times that he’s a valuable member of the team. I love that little message, that you’re just as important of a person even if you can’t do as much or have greater limits. When his friends do try to get him over his fears, it’s not because they have to, that the day will somehow be ruined by Jimmy’s incompetence p, but because they’re his friends, and want him to experience fun and wonderful things that he would otherwise miss out on. But what Jimmy CAN do is just as important! Jimmy is a gamer, which in a lot of shows, is portrayed as a lazy, useless, mindless hobby. But here, because he plays video games, it makes him essential for piloting the ship and teleporting important items. There’s always the joke that video games improves your hand/eye coordination, but recent studies have shown it has much better effects. It can make you much better at keeping track of multiple moving objects and processing technical but variable information- two traits which, fittingly enough, are really really important for air traffic controllers and airplane pilots! He also demonstrates a lot more courage behind the wheel of the Tortuga, which makes sense - in an impersonal setting, he would have more sense of calm and control and courage, because it’s so similar to a video game world. It’s not all too different with how I feel more emboldened to pick fights with people on the internet, but get crazy anxious if a real person so much as looks at me. So Jimmy’s love of video games isn’t because he’s irresponsible, it has real benefits. A quick last point - Jimmy also eats a lot, but they thankfully don’t make him fat or greedy or anything like that. He never takes food from people, he actually bakes, and shares it with others! Having the baker be a boy is a lovely touch.

I might do another post about the toxic masculinity of the two villains, (or four villains, I guess, if I wanna discuss the minions) but I’ve got other work to do, and this post is long enough already, so I’ll get around to it later. I’ll sum it up with this - Wild Kratts is a show that teaches boys it’s not only ok to be kind, but essential. The brothers protect defenseless animals, advocate for things “icky” and “weird,” like bugs or snakes or worms - not because they’re boys, and boys like icky things, but because they genuinely see the beauty in all life, and are encouraging us to slow down and do the same. The Wild Kratts are heroes who save the world not by being the strongest or smartest or coolest, but by looking after those who are exploited and vulnerable, who are essential to the world, even if they can’t always do everything. In Wild Kratts the only weaknesses a man can have isn’t what he can’t do, but what he does do that he shouldn’t have. Sure, it’s a cute show about two funny guys who have cool powers, but it’s also a show about accountability, compassion, respect and trust. The show says “boys will be boys” in all the right ways - Martin is a lovable goof with a heart of gold, but he still has to get his act together when he messes up, and he’s still creative and smart and openly sensitive. Chris is a bit of a know-it-all show-off, but he can also mess up as much as his brother, and is still bold, brave, adventurous, and can put his money where his mouth is. Jimmy is a cowardly, napping, eating machine video-gamer, but he’s still a valued member of the team, has incredible skills and talents, and will always help his friends, even if he is really, really scared. It is so important to have role models like these, in a world dominated by unhealthy machismo. The Wild Kratts are heroes who save the world - both animated, and real.

All they need now is a canon queer character, and I’ll stan them forever! My money’s on Aviva!!

#wild kratts #chris kratt #martin kratt #long post #hottake #feminism #meninism #positive masculinity #toxic masculinity #jimmy z #wk jimmy #kratt brothers

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ocean-in-my-rebel-soul · 3 years ago

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“I thought you didn’t want me.” for Meribela?

Thanks for the prompt!...that I'm filling six months later... Welp, better late than never! I don't write these two much, so here's hoping it works!

@dadrunkwriting

Merrill x Isabela

Rated: G

Tags: angst, immediately after the Arishok duel, iffy coping mechanisms

===

Smoke still lingers, heavy and soggy like a wet blanket dragged over Kirkwall's buildings and stairs as Merrill slogs her way back to the alienage. Blood still pools in the streets from the Arishok's assault on the city. Creators, everything in her aches, something bone-deep and exhausted; too many people needed help, and she needed something to pull her mind from the battle at the Viscount's Keep, so she exhausted her healer's kit and her remaining strength stitching up every wound she found.

Bela had come this close to dying; Merrill knows she'll be out of town on the first ship she can find. Hawke had almost died trying to save her, and it's still touch-and-go whether or not they'll survive their wounds. Merrill's mishmash little family is trying to shrink again. Maybe it's the way of her life, that she is to lose everyone she loves. The thought settles like rancid halla milk in her belly and raises her hackles with what promises to be another dry-heave.

She stumbles on the final stair into the alienage. Lancing pain shoots up her legs when Merrill falls to her knees. "Fenedhis—I'll fall and break my neck at this rate." She rubs her knuckles into her eyes for a moment before heaving herself to her feet.

"Careful there, kitten, careful." Warm hands land at Merrill's shoulders when she sways unevenly. "Looks like a stiff breeze could knock you over."

Merrill glares at the ground. "Thanks," she says, clipped, and shakes herself from Bela's grip. Merrill crosses her arms over her balled fists and stalks off toward her little cottage.

"Kitten, wait."

Merrill speeds up into a half-jog across the broken cobblestones. Bela swears and her jewelry chimes together discordantly as she follows. The cottage is a scant hundred feet away, and Merrill breaks into a run. Her heart bolts rabbit-fast in her ears.

"I just want to talk!"

Merrill flings herself at the door. There hadn't been enough time to lock it earlier in the afternoon when the Qunari had attacked, and in Mythal's mercy, it is in remarkable shape. The door groans as Merrill barrels inside, torn askew on its hinges in the assault, and it sticks in the frame when she slams it shut behind her.

Bela pounds on the other side a second after Merrill throws the latch and locks the door. "Merrill, come on—let me in!"

"I don't want to talk to you!" she yells back. Tears sting her eyes, and Merrill roughly wipes them away on her knuckles. Her nails bite half-moons into the heels of her palms. "Go away!"

A thud hits the door, followed by a long slide. Bela sighs. "I know I messed up, Merrill," she says. "And I—I've thought about it. A lot. You and Hawke must have... must have rubbed off on me or something. So I came back."

Another thump on the door, lower now—Bela slumps against the door and bangs her head lightly on the wood. She's staying, for now.

It hits Merrill dully, from a distance. Her own legs shake and she catches herself on the door. Sliding to the dusty floor, she lands hard, legs splaying before her.

"You made me feel like you didn't want me."

The tears come down in earnest. Merrill tips her head back and lets them drip down her cheeks. "You—you left that night. You've talked about returning to the sea and taking me with you, and you left me here." Her voice warbles and she wipes angrily at her face again. "I said I loved you, Bela, and I woke up alone."

Long fingers inch into the gap under the too-short door. They quest and find Merrill's hip, pet awkwardly at the hem of her shirt. "I know. I spent a long time ignoring it. And then a long time thinking about it."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"No, I—" Bela knocks her head against the door again and curses a low streak. She sniffs roughly. "Merrill—oh Maker's taint, I'm not crying, for fuck's sake," she mutters to herself, so quiet that Merrill only just catches it. "Get it together."

Bela sighs. "I couldn't stop thinking about it, you know, once I started. Feelings are dumb, kitten, and here I am, having them. You know, this morning I wasn't sure what would be worse: having to face the Qunari and return the stupid tome, damn the consequences, or having to do all that and then face you," she says with an incredulous snort.

"People died because of them," Merrill mutters. Because of you, she doesn't say, because Bela knows that already and it's not helpful to bring it up right now. Bela can talk about that with someone else. Merrill is too tired to do it. She wipes her eyes and draws her knees to her chest, bends down enough to rest her head on them. "What do you really want, Bela?"

Silence meets her question. Merrill gnashes her teeth. "At least do me the kindness of answering me," she calls through the door.

"Believe me, kitten, I'm trying," Bela grunts. The door thumps again. "What—" She cuts off on a cough, clears her throat, and tries again. "Do I still... Is this still safe harbor?"

"Safe harbor," Merrill murmured. Her hand found Bela's and she laced their fingers together. Bela blinked, almost like she was surprised, but surely she knew, right? Merrill had said it in all the ways she knew how—murmured against her skin in the night, woven in the living shield Merrill casts in battle to protect her back, hammered into the fine edge of the dagger she'd saved for over most of a year to have commissioned for Bela's last birthday. Tonight she whispered it into Bela's heart, skin sweat-slick and chest heaving, feverish. "Ar lath ma, Bela, ma vhenan. You always have a home with me."

Bela smiled. "C'mere, kitten," she said, and she pulled Merrill into a bruising kiss, her trembling hand wandering down Merrill's ribs and over her belly with a singular purpose.

And then Merrill woke up alone.

"I want to come home, Merrill. If you'll let me." A beat. "If you'll have me."

"Bela—"

"I know I'm bad at this, kitten. I know. And I want to try anyway. For you. For our misfit family."

Merrill knocks her forehead on her knees and squeezes her eyes shut. "And I'm just—I—Creators, Bela! What am I supposed to do?"

"Let me in so I can apologize properly, I hope. It's dark and fucking cold." She falls silent. "I really am sorry, Merrill, and I want to make it better."

Something twists in Merrill's gut, wounded and hurting and full of aching rage. She drags in a shaking breath. "You'll have to talk to the others," Merrill says. "You'll have to, you'll have to apologize, and explain, and all that. And you'll have to ask them for forgiveness, too, especially Hawke, and maybe they'll all be nice and give it to you. Then maybe..." Merrill sniffs and wipes her face on her trousers. "Then maybe you can ask me for forgiveness, too. Later."

"...that's fair," Bela sighs. She thumps her head on the door again. "Really screwed everyone over, didn't I?"

Merrill unfolds herself and stands up with a groan, wobbles against the door. She scrapes her nails down the wood. "You'll need to talk about that with all of them. I'm—I'm going to bed."

She gets a step away before she turns back, some needy thing scraping at the inside of her ribcage, and yanks open the door. Bela scrambles to her feet; she barely has time to protest before Merrill's got her hand wrapped around Bela's wrist and pulls her, hard, into the cottage. Merrill kicks the door shut behind them and leans back against it, tugging Bela to follow until her arms bracket Merrill in.

There's no doubt as to what this is. Surely Bela knows. Surely Bela understands. Merrill can't say it any plainer, not again.

"I thought you said you're going to bed."

"I am. We are. If you want."

Bela searches her face. "It's not this easy," she whispers, her brows pinching lightly in confusion.

"No," Merrill says. She reaches up to cup Bela's cheek, rubs her thumb along the edge of her bottom lip. "But it has been a long, terrifying day, and I'm tired, and I—" her voice warbles again "—I've missed you so very much."

Relieved warmth pools in Bela's gaze when it flicks to Merrill's lips. "I've missed you, too, kitten." She dips her head and gently, more than Merrill expects, presses their mouths together.

She sighs into it and lets her hands fall to the neckline of Bela's tunic, curling into the fabric and anchoring her pirate queen to her. "If you stay, we're going to have to talk about all of this in the morning," Merrill murmurs.

Another wave of tears threatens to fall. If.

She shakes her head against the thought and winds her arms around Bela's neck. Her heart hammers in her chest, breaking it open; Merrill has to hold it together, smother everything down against the lean lines of Bela's body to keep her heart from pelting into Bela's hands again.

"I know."

It's not fair that Bela could just leave like that, before. That Merrill wants her anyway, now. Bela trails kisses along the edge of her jaw, nudges her into tipping back enough that she can trail her lips down the sensitive skin just below her ear. Her laughter ghosts over Merrill's skin when she can't help the shudder that trembles through her.

It's not fair. Bela was gone for months, and Merrill loves her just as much now as then, even though it burns.

She closes her eyes at the frisson of selfish want that bolts through her. I know, Bela says, and Merrill desperately wants to believe.

But Bela always told her she's too trusting, too open-hearted, and where has that gotten Merrill so far? Empty-handed, empty-hearted, and lonely.

Merrill drags in a shuddering breath. The morning will come soon enough, and she can't waste any more time worrying about the inevitability of Bela's coming departure.

"Take me to bed," she whispers, and she lets herself be hauled off, curled tight into Bela's embrace, unable to let her go for even a moment.

She’s survived the dawn of every morning before. She will survive it again.

#da drunk writing circle #Merrill #Isabela #Meribela #prompt fill #ocean writes #dragon age 2 #da2

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rainydaymiddleearthimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Destiny Calling: Chapter Seven

You all seemed lost, feeling this sense of overwhelming hopelessness. You were now leading the group, walking through the woods of Lothlorien. You after all, were the only one that actually knew the way. "Stay close young hobbits! They say there’s a great sorceress lives in these woods, an elf-witch of terrible power. All who look upon her, fall under her spell..." Gimli said, unaware that you actually shared blood to said "Elf-witch". "... and are never seen again." Gimli finished. Aragorn looked over, noticing blood seep through your clothes. "Y/n, did you suffer another wound outside of the scratch on your head?" He asked. "If you're referring to my shoulder Aragorn, I am fine." You said softly.

You stopped, the trees speaking of another presence outside of your group. "Well, here is one dwarf she won't ensnare so easily. I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox!" Gimli announced before meeting a guard face to face. Lorien guards aimed before a familiar face stopped them. "Princess Y/n." He noticed, all guards reattracting their weapons at the sight of you. "You found us." you said, seeming very calm. "The dwarf breathes so loud we could've shot him in the dark." Haldir said making you chuckle. "Haldir o Lórien. Henion aníron, boe ammen i dulu lîn. Boe ammen veriad lîn. (Haldir of Lorien, we come here for help. We need your protection.)" Aragorn said. "Aragorn, these woods are perilous! We should go back." Gimli huffed. "You have entered the realm of the Lady of the Wood. You cannot go back. Come, she is waiting." Haldir said. You all followed Haldir. "you seem very confident about your choice in leading us to this woman." Gimli muttered. You said nothing, walking ahead of him.

You climbed the stairs before standing before Galadriel and Celeborn. You bowed, Galadriel lifting your face. "You have matured since we last spoke." She said, smiling softly. "It is nice to see you again." You admitted. She nodded before looking at the group. Aragorn gave his proper greeting, making it clear to everyone that he too, had met her before. "Nine that are here yet ten there were set out from Rivendell. Tell me where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him." She said. She looked in his eyes and paused. "He has fallen into shadow." She realized. "The quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail to the ruin of all." She said. She looked over at Boromir who couldn't meet her gaze. "Yet hope remains while the company is true." She said. She looked at Sam and smiled. "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight you will sleep in peace." She said. You nearly walked off but Aragorn halted you. "Might we receive medical assistance? Y/n was struck in battle." Aragorn asked. "I have herbs in my-" "Come." Galadriel said. You sighed and walked off with her.

You looked over at Galadriel. "How are you taking it? Gandalf's demise?" She asked. "I think I'm in denial. It is almost as if my body just isn't reacting." You muttered. She nodded as you entered a small hut. "How did it happen?" She asked, wringing water out of a small cloth. "There was a monster, one of flames. We had to pass through Moria-" "We both know how dangerous that was Y/n." She scolded. "We didn't have a choice. Saruman betrayed us, if we had made for the Gap of Rohan, we'd be killed or worse." You muttered. She nodded. "Gandalf fought off the monster so we could escape. He... He fell so we would succeed." you muttered. Galadriel nodded solemnly. She touched the wound on your shoulder, you wincing. "You made it here. That is what counts." she said softly. You nodded, looking down. "Your mother would be very proud of you, you know." She added. You looked over. She began crushing herbs. "She would be terrified but still very proud." she said. You smiled slightly. "are you proud?" you asked. She turned, that soft smile reminding you of home. "we all are darling." She said. "I.." you cleared your throat. "I want you to know... I am proud to be your grandchild..." you told her. She put the herbs on the wound, wrapping it before she kissed your head. "I am proud to call you my grandchild." she said.

As everyone else sat around, elves could be heard around them, singing. "A lament for Gandalf." Legolas noticed, him pouring water into a small reflection pool. "What do they say about him?" Merry asked. "I have not the heart to tell you. For me the grief is still too near." Legolas answered. Aragorn noticed Boromir sitting alone on a tree root. He walked over. "Take some rest. These borders are well protected." Aragorn encouraged. "I will find no rest here. I heard her voice inside my head. She spoke of my father and the fall of Gondor. She said to me even now there is hope left. But I cannot see it. It is long since we had any hope." He admitted. He knew for a fact that if his father remained on the throne, there was less of a bright future to one day see. This fact had been haunting him since he picked up the hilt to Isildur's broken sword. "My father is a noble man, but his rule is failing. And now our…our people lose faith. He looks to me to make things right and I would do it. I would see the glory of Gondor restored. Have you ever seen it Aragorn? White tower of Ecthelion, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver. It's banners caught high in the morning breeze. Have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?" He asked. "I have seen the White City, long ago." Aragorn admitted. "One day, our paths will lead us there. And the tower guards shall take up the call: The Lords of Gondor have returned!" He said, clearly missing home. Aragorn opened his mouth to speak but saw you walking over. He walked over, hugging you. You didn't care about the slight discomfort from your shoulder. You hadn't had a real moment to breathe since you left. You hugged him back, him pulling away slightly to kiss your forehead. "Your wounds? How are they?" He asked. "They are minor, she believes them to be healed in days." you said.

He sighed. "You need to be more-" "What's the rule?" you halted. He sighed. "No telling Y/n what to do." He said. "Let us try and rest. We still have a long journey." you said. The group looked over as you sat down. "Are you alright?" Pippin asked. "Fear not Pippin, I am well." You assured. "Where are you sleeping?" Frodo asked. Aragorn cleared his throat to answer the question and you nodded your head in his direction. "Thank you Y/n.. For protecting me back in Moria." Frodo said. "I am only doing what I promised. I don't deserve the praise." You stated. "How did you meet the witch- woman?" Sam corrected. You chuckled. "Galadriel is my grandmother." you answered. "You're related to the witch?" Gimli asked, shocked. "She is my mother's mother. Very kind woman despite what many believe." You answered.

Pippin seemed confused. "Y/n... If your grandmother is here then why weren't you sent here instead of Mirkwood?" Pippin asked. "Father was most likely afraid of the path here... It was the same path my mother took when she was attacked." You said. Merry looked at you as you sighed, looking over at Aragorn who was still awake.

"Sleep." you told him. "I cannot." He admitted. "...You're joking. You seriously cannot sleep without me being there?" You asked. "Not fully, no." He admitted, making Sam crack a smile. "With the way you two speak to each other, you'd think you'd be lovers." Gimli sighed. You all froze, looking at him. "What?" He asked. "Nothing." Pippin said, resisting a strong urge to laugh. "We should rest." Sam said, also trying not to break. You moved to Aragorn, lying down next to him. He wrapped his arms around you, his breaths getting deeper as time passed.

The morning soon came, you and Aragorn being the first ones awake. You leaned up and stretched, tapping Boromir as you slid on your boots. He woke up the hobbits who (eventually) woke up Gimli. You all set off once more, Galadriel parting you with Earendil, their most beloved star. You all went off in canoes, riding down the river. You all were silent, Legolas and you both listening to the nature around you before reaching a pass. "Frodo, the Argonath! Long have I desired to look upon the kings of old. My kin." Aragorn said to Frodo, nodding to the large statues of the kings. You all finally reached the foot of Amon Hen, making camp while you rested.

"We cross the lake at nightfall. Hide the boats and continue on foot. We approach Mordor from the north." Aragorn said. "Oh, yes?! It's just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil? An impassable labyrinth of razor sharp rocks! And after that, it gets even better! Festering, stinking marshlands far as the eye can see!" Gimli huffed. "That is our road. I suggest you take some rest and recover your strength master dwarf." Aragorn said, making you smiled. Gimli seemed almost offended by the mere idea of him needing to rest. You looked up, alarmed by something. "What's wrong?" Boromir asked. "Something's coming." you answered. You looked around. "Where's Frodo?" you asked.

Frodo walked through the woods, Boromir noticing the hobbit as he was collecting firewood. "None of us should wander alone, you least of all. So much depends on you. Frodo?" Boromir commented. Frodo looked over, slightly alarmed by his presence. "I know why you seek solitude. You suffer; I see it day by day. You sure you do not suffer needlessly? There are other ways, Frodo, other paths that we might take." Boromir said. "I know what you would say. And it would seem like wisdom but for the warning in my heart." Frodo said. "Warning? Against what? We're all afraid, Frodo. But to let that fear drive us to destroy what hope we have. Don't you see that is madness?" Boromir questioned. "There is no other way!" Frodo said. "I ask only for the strength to defend my people! If you would but lend me the Ring..." Boromir tossed the wood aside, staring at the ring. "No." Frodo said, stepping back. "Why do you recoil? I am no thief." Boromir asked. "You are not yourself." Frodo answered. "What chance do you think you have? They will find you! They will take the Ring and you will beg for death before the end!" Boromir yelled. Frodo ran from Boromir, alarmed of the greed and darkness taking over the young man. "It is not yours save by unhappy chance. It could have been mine!" Boromir yelled before tackling Frodo. "It should be mine! Give it to me!" Boromir yelled. They struggled against one another for the ring.

"Give it to me!" Boromir yelled. "No!" Frodo struggled. "Give me… Give me the Ring!" Boromir yelled. Frodo slipped on the ring, kicking Boromir before running away. "I see your mind. You will take the Ring to Sauron! You will betray us! You go to your death and the death of us all! Curse you! Curse you! And all the halflings!" He said before falling. It was like a simple fall was all he needed to see reason. Regret instantly hit him. "Frodo?...Frodo?...what have I done?...please...Frodo!" He called.

Frodo ran off, reaching an area away from him. "Frodo?" You asked, standing there with Aragorn. "Huh?!" He gasped, meeting your eyes. "It has taken Boromir." Frodo said, clearly panicked. "Where is the Ring?" Aragorn asked. "Stay away!" Frodo yelled before backing away. "Frodo!" Aragorn halted. Frodo stopped. "We swore to protect you!" Aragorn said. "Can you protect me from yourself?!" Frodo asked, clearly frightened. He showed the ring in his palm. "Would you destroy it?" Frodo asked. You looked away, feeling this intense dread. Aragorn slowly approached Frodo though, ignoring the whispers of the ring, closing Frodo's palm and pushing it to his chest. "I would have gone with you to the end, into the very fires of Mordor." He said. "You will not yield me from your journey Frodo." You said. He frowned. "Y/n, I cannot ask this of you." He said. "Frodo, my father was the one that went with Isildur. He did nothing to stop him... I know I can do something so please. Let me." you said. He nodded slowly before you slid off your necklace, giving it to Aragorn. Aragorn shook his head. "Y/n-" "keep this as a reminder that someone is fighting for you. Always." you said softly. He clutched the necklace, before pulling a chain out from his pack. He took off his ring, sliding it onto the chain. "I will not take the throne without you. If I lose you, the throne will remain as it is." He said. "This is your only proof of your identity Aragorn-" "I know. Because without you, I cannot make my claim." He said, putting the chain around your neck. He gave you one last kiss, your heart filling with sorrow before you pulled away. "Look after the others, especially Sam. He will not understand." Frodo said before his sword started to glow. "Go on you two!" He said. You hesitated, seeing the finality in this choice. Would you leave your lover or stay and leave Frodo?

You shook your head, taking Frodo's hand and running. Sam searched the woods frantically. "Mr. Frodo!" He called before hearing swords clashing. Legolas and Gimli ran forward, Legolas shooting three of the orcs quickly. Gimli slammed his axe into one of them. "Aragorn! Go!" Legolas yelled. You sprinted with Frodo, trying to reach the boats as the orcs were ready to kill. You ran hiding behind a set of trees, Merry and Pippin looking at you with urgency. They noticed the orcs ready to follow you. "Run you two! Go!" Merry whispered before cupping his hands. You two ran off as Merry yelled. "Hey! Hey you! Over here!" He shouted, diverting attention away from the two of you. "Hey!" Pippin chimed in. "Over here!" Merry called. Pippin waved his arms. "This way!" Pippin yelled, running away from Frodo.

As you ran you heard three loud blasts from a horn, your heart dropping. This was it... Boromir's final stand. "The Horn of Gondor... Boromir.." you whispered as you ran. Merry and Pippin locked eyes with Boromir as he fought. "RUN!" He told them, fighting for his life. "Boromir!" Aragorn called, rushing toward the sound. Fear coursed through Boromir as he fought before an arrow hit his shoulder. Merry and Pippin stopped, looking at him in shock. Boromir fell to his knees, breathing hard as the pain seemed to overwhelm him. No. Not like this.

The orcs came closer, Boromir letting out a battle cry as a final stand. He stood up, stabbing an orc as he did. Another arrow fired, this time to Boromir's stomach. He fell again, still his will to live too strong for this as he got back up. He killed another orc, another arrow hitting you, this one being the final blow. Boromir fell to his knees, staying down this time. Merry and Pippin both looked at him. They knew this was it. That he would not rise again to fight. This was their friend that kept them safe. If he was dying, they were going to defend him till his last breath. Merry and Pippin fought, screaming "SHIRE!" before stabbing an orc or two.

You reached the boats, heart pounding as you were unaware of the dangers ahead of you. Then you felt it. A loss. A hit. You put a hand over your mouth. "Y/n, what's wrong?" Frodo asked. "Boromir has fallen." You whispered, hearing the trees tell you of the brave sacrifice he made.

Aragorn kneeled to Boromir. "They took the little ones." Boromir said weakly. "Be still." Aragorn instructed. "Frodo, where is Frodo? And Y/n?" Boromir asked. "I let them go." Aragorn said. "Then you did what I could not. I tried to take the Ring from him." Boromir admitted, his breathing getting weaker. "The Ring is beyond our reach now." Aragorn assured. "Forgive me, I did not see it. I have failed you all." Boromir whispered. "No, Boromir, you fought bravely! You have kept your honor." Aragorn assured. He reached for the arrows that were ailing his friend but Boromir stopped him. "Leave it! It is over. The world of men will fall, and all will come to darkness… and my city to ruin." Boromir whispered. "I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I swear to you I will not let the white city fall, nor our people fail!" Aragorn said, his heart in pain. "Our people?" Boromir asked. Not once had Aragorn even referenced his homeland or people... Boromir smiled at his friend. "Our people." He breathed, barely holding onto life. Aragorn put Boromir's sword in his hand, Boromir bringing it to his chest. "I would have followed you my brother, my captain, my king!" Boromir said before his face grew still. Your vision was indeed true. Boromir was dead. "Be at peace, son of Gondor." Aragorn whispered before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

You heard rapid footsteps, turning to land which you hadn't left yet. "Frodo!" Sam called. Frodo seemed spaced out, recalling a conversation that he had with Gandalf before Sam sprinted out from the woods. "Frodo no! Frodo! Mr. Frodo!" Sam frantically called. "No Sam." Frodo said, continuing to paddle. You opened your mouth but closed it as Sam sprinted into the river. "Go back Sam! I’m going to Mordor." Frodo yelled. "Of course you are, and I’m coming with you!" Sam replied. He trudged deeper into the water. "You can’t swim! Sam!" Frodo gasped. You watched Sam go under, forsaking your cloak as you dove into the waters and pulled up Sam.

You put him in the boat, you climbing in afterwards. "You are insane!" You breathed. "I made a promise, Mr. Frodo. A promise! 'Don’t you leave him Samwise Gamgee.' And I don’t mean to! I don’t mean to." Sam said. Frodo's expression softened. "Oh Sam!" Frodo wailed before hugging Sam. You smiled at the two friends before Frodo yanked you into the hug. You slowly hugged the two hobbits back, them clinging to you.

Gimli, Aragorn and Legolas gave Boromir a proper send off, laying him one of the boats with his sword and shield, his cloven horn by his side. The boat went off the side of the Falls of Rauros, falling to the mists below.

"Hurry! Frodo, Y/n and Sam have reached the eastern shore." Legolas called. Aragorn did not move. "You mean not to follow them?" Legolas asked. "Y/n and Frodo’s fate is no longer in our hands." Aragorn said, clutching your necklace that he was now wearing. "Then it has all been in vain! The Fellowship has failed." Gimli said. "Not if we hold true to each other. We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death. Not while we have strength left. Leave all that can be spared behind. We travel light. Let’s hunt some orc!" Aragorn said. Legolas and Gimli smiled. "Yes! Haha!" Gimli exclaimed. Aragorn ran into the woods, Legolas and Gimli following.

You stood on the hills of Emyn Muil, looking at the Dead Marshes and Mordor." Mordor. I hope the others find a safer route." Frodo muttered. "Strider will look after them." Sam said. "I do not think they will accompany us from here." You said, clutching Aragorn's ring. "I don’t suppose we’ll ever see them again." Frodo said. Sadness filled your gaze. "We may yet, Mr. Frodo. We may." Sam reminded. You smiled at Sam. Frodo turned to the both of you "I’m glad you’re with me." Frodo said to the both of you. You smiled softly, roughing up his hair before walking. "We have a long journey ahead of us." you said. "Think we'll see something new?" Sam asked. "Let us hope not." You said earning smiles from both of the hobbits.

You had no idea of the dangers ahead. Or how many events were to play out in front of your eyes.

#aragorn #aragorn imagine #aragorn x reader

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strangeradventuresofp · 4 years ago

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second thoughts (legolas x reader)

The Fellowship of the Ring - Part 4

masterlist

warnings: mentions of death, smoking, straying from canon, secret spilled, SUUUPER long a/n lol sorry

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

a/n: hello my lovelies! its long overdue i know im so sorry! i kinda fell of the train for a while, but im back and super excited to present chapter 4 of second thoughts! thank you all for being so sweet and loving and understanding with me, i appreciate it so much! also in the meantime i hit 400 followers! incredible are you kidding me? i appreciate all 412 of you i love you with my all my heart and THANK YOU. if you would like to participate in my follower celebration you can see that here or look at the pinned post on my blog page. SO all the BORING stuff out of the way (im kidding) this chapter is completely made up, none of this is canon but it takes place while they are at Lothlorien. i thought it would be fun to add a chapter completely made up to develop some of the readers relationships ! i hope you enjoy this and thank you all so much for bearing with me!!<3

“Stay close, young hobbits.” Gimli spoke in a whisper once you were further into the woods. “They say a great sorceress lives in these woods. An elf-witch of terrible power. All who look upon her fall under her spell… And are never seen again.”

“But is there any truth to it?” You asked, unsure. These woods were happily familiar to you, you must have had good experiences here.

“I do not know, lass. But either way, here’s one dwarf she won’t ensnare so easily. I have eyes of a hawk and ears of a fox—” A gasp escaped your lips as you came face to face with many arrow heads in your direction.

“The dwarf breathes so loud; we could have shot him in the dark.” A – very attractive – elf emerged among the arrows. He eyes washed over you and your breath caught in your throat. He was strangely familiar, too.

Legolas had noticed the other elf’s eyes studying you and for some reason felt a surge of a strange feeling passing through his body. He did not like the way that he looked at you.

“Haldir of Lorien. We come here for help. We need your protection.” Aragorn spoke fluently. The elf cocked an eyebrow.

“Aragorn, these woods are perilous. We should go back.” Gimli suggested, sounding rather irritated.

“Quiet, Gimli.” Your words were soft, looking curiously at Haldir who returned the gaze.

“You have entered the realm of the Lady of the Wood. You cannot go back.” His eyes turned to Frodo. “Come. She is waiting.” He turned, and you followed.

Soon after, you found yourselves in Lothlorien, stepping up a tall, spiralling staircase. It was strange, for a reason that you could not explain or even pinpoint. But the peculiar could not overwrite its beauty. The staircase brought you to a beautiful arched building, supported by the tree branches it was built upon. It was white and glowing, and your eyes were fixed upon it entirely. Another staircase lay in front of you, of which two elves were situated on top, a man and a woman. He guided her down the steps with his hand. She was beautiful. Her skin was pale and her hair a platinum gold0silver. Her skin was flawless, her body covered by a gorgeously detailed white frock.

“Nine there are here yet ten there were set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him.” The man questioned. The woman’s eyes fell over your frame and you met them. Her gaze was intense.

“He has fallen into shadow.” She did not stop looking at you and you breathed silently, nodding slightly. She turned to Aragorn, and then at the other members of the Fellowship. “The quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all.” Her eyes wandered, fixing on Boromir whose forehead was smothered in beads of sweat and he avoided her look. You noticed, brows knitting together in confusion. Legolas had also noticed, though he said and did nothing. “Yet hope remains while the company is true. Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight, you will sleep in peace.”

~~~

It did not take long for you to get settled in, nor anyone else. You were each given fresh clothes and an opportunity to bathe. When the nine of you regathered to settle for bed, you chuckled to see that Aragorn looked the same as he had before. Legolas gave her a smile and stood beside her. You swallowed, thinking that he looked rather charming in the detailed silver tunic that wrapped his built torso. It suited him. In his hands he held a silver jug and he let out a breath.

“A lament for Gandalf.” He said, softly. You gave him a small smile which he returned.

“What do they say about him?”

“I have not the heart to tell you. For me, the grief is still too near.” You squeezed Legolas’ hand comfortingly, sharing a smile with him. Merry nudged Pippin, pointing at the two of you.

“It’s only a matter of time, young Pippin.” He whispered, a grin on his face.

“What does that mean?” Sam asked, but he was quickly shushed by the mischievous hobbits. Merry pointing yet again to you and Legolas.

“Do you think Y/N and Legolas will ever get together, Sam?” Sam shrugged to Pip’s question before they decided to continue preparing for bed. Meanwhile, Aragorn had made his way over to Boromir, who was sat in solitary with his head pointed towards the ground.

“Take some rest; these borders are well protected.”

“I will find no rest here.” Boromir declared. That caught your attention. You frowned, walking over to him, sitting beside him with a small smile ghosting over your lips. He let out a shaky breath. “I heard her voice inside my head. She spoke of my father and the fall of Gondor. She said to me, ‘even now, there is hope left’. But I cannot see it. It is long since we had any hope.” Tears pooled in your eyes listening to him and you sighed silently, hugging his torso whilst he placed his arm around your shoulders.

“My father is a noble man, but his rule is failing. And our—our people lose faith. He looks to me to make things right, and I would do it. I would see the glory of Gondor restored.” His lips tugged up gently at the edges. “Have you ever seen it, Aragorn? The White Tower of Ecthelion, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver, its banners caught high in the morning breeze. Have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?” It was not until that moment that you truly noticed how much you missed home. A few tears strayed from your eyes, racing down your face. You closed your eyes, leaning into Boromir’s side, sniffling quietly.

“I have seen the White City… Long ago.”

“One day, our paths will lead us there. And the tower guard shall take up the call – the Lords of Gondor have returned.” He smiled, turning to you to wipe the tears from your face before you pulled him into a hug. What he had said had terrified you. The fall of Gondor. Your home. And would any be there to save it? Or would people rather see it perish? After all, Denethor was completely useless and never aided those in need, so why would any come to Gondor’s need?

You stood, wiping your face with a small sniffle. Sighing, you walked away from the others, ambling off to wherever you could be on your own for a while. You took a seat on a flat tree root in a secluded area, trying to process the information about Gondor. You were so engrossed in your thoughts that you had not noticed the presence of another. As someone cleared their throat, you looked up, startled.

“Haldir. Forgive me I was—”

“Lost in your own mind?” He offered you a small smile.

“Exactly.” You chuckled. “It’s beautiful here, truly.” He stayed silent, taking a seat beside you. “It is strangely familiar to me.”

“Strange?” He questioned, tilting his head in confusion.

“Like I came here once in a dream.”

“Like a distant memory.”

“Exactly.” You smiled. Haldir watched you curiously, but with a knowing look spread across his face. As you turned to look at him, a realisation dawned upon you, and you found yourself repeating his words, “a distant memory…” He nodded once before standing, looking down at you.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” And with that, he was gone.

~~~

You had not slept very much during the night; you hoped that the next few nights would be better for you. The morning came around fast though, and soon enough everyone was awake and breakfasting. Not being particularly hungry, you only had a small breakfast. If it were up to you, you would not have eaten at all, but you did not want Sam to worry. Pippin and Merry were clamouring persistently to Boromir about how they wanted to practice. You watched them for a while, giggling at their stupidity before Aragorn sat beside you.

“Where did you wander off to last night?”

“I just wanted to be alone. A lot has happened in the last week; it all caught up to me.”

“You’re alright, Y/N.” He gently clapped you on the shoulder and you smiled at him, though tears gathered in your eyes.

“It is where I grew up, for the most part. I do not want to see it fall. And I’m afraid I won’t be able to help the way I want.” A stray tear fell down your face and Aragorn gently wiped it away with the pad of his thumb before he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “Forgive me, I do not wish to be so emotional.”

“It happens to the best of us, mellon nin.” He gave you a smile which you gladly returned. “There’s that beautiful smile.”

Legolas watched the two of you, his brows furrowed together, that strange feeling pulsing through him again. Aragorn’s right, he thought. Her smile is beautiful. His eyes were fixed on you while you spoke to Sam and Frodo, so focused that he did not realise Aragorn was now stood behind him, leaning into his ear.

“You’re staring, Legolas.” He whispered, the elf’s blonde hair moving from Aragorn’s breath.

“No. I am merely watching.” Legolas denied, earning a chuckle from Aragorn.

“Whatever you say, mellon.” Aragorn strode away, a grin plastered on his face. A gentle blush dusted over the elf’s cheeks, something rather noticeable that stood out from his pale complexion. He tore his eyes away from you, instead joining Boromir and Gimli to train the hobbits.

“My old gaffer might just faint if he ever saw a place like this. Got a thing for pretty places, he has. Makes sense, him being a gardener. He’d love it here.” Sam noticed your vacant expression while he spoke and frowned, gently touching your hand. “Y/N, are you alright?”

“Oh, yes, I—I’m fine. Forgive me.” You gave him a smile, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

“What about your parents, Y/N? What are they like?” Frodo asked.

“My parents died when I was very young. I don’t really remember them.” Their faces dropped immediately and opened their mouths to apologise but you chuckled, waving them off. “Don’t apologise; you did not know.”

A small smile ghosted over Frodo’s lips. “My parents died when I was young, too, in a boating accident.”

“I’m sorry, Frodo.” You offered your condolences while he shook his head.

“That’s alright; It was an accident.”

“You really are a pair of remarkable hobbits.”

~~~

You jolted awake with a breath tearing from your throat. Frantically, you scanned the area, your hand automatically reaching for your knives on your belt – only they were not there. It was at that moment that you remembered that you were still in the comforts of Lothlorien. Something compelled you to make sure that all of your companions were still beside you and you counted as you gazed around at them.

“Y/N?” A soft, calming voice called out to you amongst the darkness.

“Yes?” You responded quietly, shivering slightly.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?” The voice asked. You sighed at that.

“Just a bad dream.” It was an awful dream. Much like Frodo’s if you were honest. You did not want to think about it too much; you feared you might get emotional. The figure that had the voice stood and held his hand out to you. You took it, standing, and he led you a little away from the rest of the Fellowship.

As it became lighter, you could see the face of whomever had spoken to you. If you were honest, you were so drained from the dream that you had not distinguished who the voice belonged to. But, as the space got brighter, you could just make out the perfect contours of the face, the small curve on the lips, the concerned blue eyes that studied your face, the long blonde hair that gracefully fell over the broad shoulders.

“You were struggling in your sleep. I was worried for you.” He admitted, his voice seeming to get softer by the minute.

“Did I wake you? Forgive me I—”

“Do not worry, mellon nin; you did not wake me.” A small smile fell over his lips before his eyes filled with concern once again. “What were you dreaming of?” Legolas noticed the way that you squirmed at his question and furrowed his brows in response.

“Nothing important; I will be fine. But I appreciate your concern, Legolas.”

“Y/N, do not lie to me; you have no talent for it.” You smiled sheepishly. “You need not tell me, but I saw the way that you tossed and turned and the look of terror on your face. You were mumbling, incoherently, but you sounded terrified.”

“Everything seems so real now. It has finally seemed to sink in that Gandalf is gone and… It reminded me of my parents.” You sat down, your back flush against a tree trunk. “In my dream, everyone met the same fate, Gandalf’s fate. I was alone again.” Tears began to form in your eyes, your lip started to quiver. Legolas frowned, kneeling beside you before he gently tugged your chest against his, wrapping his arms around you protectively.

“Y/N, I will be with you for as long as you wish for me to be. You won’t ever be alone again.” He felt a terrible ache in his chest when you looked up at him, your arms still wrapped around his torso, your eyes puffy and a few wet streams leaking down your cheeks.

You gave him a weak smile, sniffling. “Do you promise?” He nodded. “Say it.”

“I promise.” He took a seat beside you after pulling away from the hug, a small distance between the two of you. After a long – yet comfortable – silence, you let out a sigh before moving closer to him, leaning into his body. You rested your head on his shoulder platonically, but Legolas could not escape the increasing beating of his heart when your leg touched his. He gently rested his head on top of yours, wondering what you were thinking about. Then, as if out of the blue – though it wasn’t really – you asked him a question.

“Have you ever been in love, Legolas? Have you ever loved someone so much to the point where it hurt?” Your voice faltered as you spoke, and the elf sighed silently. You could feel his breath shifting your hair.

“Once.”

“What was her name?”

“How did you know—”

“I can tell.” You looked up at him. “Your demeanour changed when I asked the question. Come, tell me about her.”

He did not know why, but he did. “Her name was Tauriel. She was the captain of the Elven guard of the Woodland Realm.”

“Was?” You questioned his use of the past. “What happened to her?”

“I do not know.” He let out a deep sigh and you frowned, wishing you had never asked for it was clearly a sensitive subject for him. “She did not believe herself worthy of me. Instead, she fell in love with a dwarf. Only, he died during a battle. I could not return to the Woodland Realm; my father gave me knowledge of Aragorn, and so I went to find him. I do not know what happened to her.”

“Forgive me, Legolas. I did not mean to upset you.” He shook his head at you, and you smiled, shifting a little closer to him to comfort him. He chuckled lightly as you wrapped your arms around him.

Back over by the others, Aragorn had awoken, but he did not move. Instead, he rolled over for he could hear familiar voices whispering behind him. As he turned, with a stealthy eye open, he watched you and Legolas sit together, a knowing smirk growing on his face.

~~~

The morning came quick, after you and Legolas had spoke about your lives all night and gotten a few quick hours of sleep before the others had awoken from their dreams. It was the last day that you would spend at Lothlorien, for you must all be getting a move on, and soon; the Ring would not take itself to Mount Doom. Since it was to be your last day in the comforts of the Lady of the Wood, she had asked to see all of you.

When the nine of you presented yourselves to her, she gifted each of you and Elven cloak, paired with a green brooch as a clasp. She named them the Leaves of Lorien. The Elven cloaks had been woven by Galadriel herself. They could not deflect a shaft or blade but instead, they could act as camouflage to unfriendly eyes. When you put it on, it was light and very agile. It was difficult to tell that you were even wearing a cloak. She explained that they would be warm or cool as needed. Then, she wished you all luck on your journey, and the nine of you quickly returned to the camp to begin packing for the day ahead; setting out early was important to travel as much as possible while it was still light.

Back at the camp, you all breakfasted. You made sure that the hobbits had taken enough before you started to pick at your own food. Aragorn wandered over to where you sat, perching himself beside you, a bowl in his hand, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“What are you so amused by?” You paused chewing to ask, swallowing the remainder of the food in your mouth afterwards. A chuckle escaped him, and he turned to look at you.

“What is going on between you and Legolas?” His questioned startled you. You coughed profusely, trying to rid of the piece of food that lodged in your throat.

“What do you mean?”

“I happened to wake up last night, and…”

“And, what? You were spying on us?” You quirked your eyebrow cheekily, the hint of a grin on your lips. Aragorn grinned.

“And,” he lowered his voice. “I saw the two of you sitting together.”

“So? Is sitting together such a crime, Aragorn?” You shared a laugh with him. “Since you are so curious, I’ll tell you. The truth is, I was upset, and he comforted me. Then we spoke about life.” Aragorn raised his eyebrows, unsure if you were telling the truth or not. You giggled. “Have I ever lied to you, Aragorn?”

“No, I suppose not. My mistake. Forgive me, I thought something more might have been going on.”

“Well, I hate to disappoint, but nothing more is going on. He is kind, but we are friends, that is all.” Aragorn nodded at your words, then left you to sit in peace while you ate. He kept a close eye on you from afar, watching until you were distracted by the hobbits and by Boromir until he made his way to Legolas.

“Y/N looks nice today, don’t you think, Legolas?”

“Do not think I’m unaware of what you’re doing, Aragorn.” Legolas said with a scowl. Aragorn chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Alright. Though, you do seem very fond of her.”

“What’s not to be fond of? She’s kind, funny, a good fighter, she takes care of the hobbits.” A pink blush dusted over his cheeks. “She’s beautiful…”

“Legolas.” The ranger smirked. “Mellon nin, are you falling for Y/N?”

“Lower your voice, Aragorn.” Legolas urged, the blush growing on his face. Legolas wouldn’t say he was falling for you. He thought you were pretty, very pretty, and he enjoyed your company, but that does not mean that he liked you like that. His heart raced when you were close to him, and even harder when you touched. He hated to see you upset, loved to see you smile and laugh, although he preferred to be the one to make you smile. But none of that meant that he was falling for you, did it? He didn’t think so.

But as his eyes fell over you now, he could not help but feel that maybe, just maybe, that Aragorn was right. He watched your lips part and turn up into a smile, a hearty laugh drawing from your throat at something that Merry had said. Aragorn did not miss the smile that grew on Legolas’ face whilst he watched you, a longing, loving look in his blue eyes. All the ranger could do was smile at the elf and chuckle to himself, before finishing his food and continuing to pack what will be needed for when the journey resumes at dawn. Until then, the nine of you decided that you would appreciate the comforts of Lothlorien once more.

Time seemed to pass very quickly, and as fast as the morning had come, the night came. You and Aragorn were still awake, sitting beside each other, sharing his pipe, giggling about old times. You let out a contented sigh and he opened his arm for you to shift into him. As you did so, he plucked the pipe from your fingers and stuck it between his lips. You chuckled at him before sighing again.

“What’s wrong, mellon nin?” He said, the pipe bobbing in his mouth as he spoke.

“I have yet to find out what this place means to me, and we are already leaving.”

Aragorn sighed. “Y/N, you were born here.” Your eyes widened in shock.

“What?”

“Your mother and father lived in Lothlorien; that is why you recognise this place.”

“How do you know this?” You asked. You need not ask if Aragorn was telling the truth; he knew how much this meant to you.

“Haldir. He and your father were good friends. He wanted to tell you himself.”

“Why didn’t he?”

“He thought it would be better to come from a friend.” He offered you a smile and you smiled softly, relief lifting a huge weight from your shoulders. Returning the favour, you plucked the pipe from his lips and placed it between your own. “You’re not angry?”

You shook your head, blowing out some smoke. “Why would I be?” Aragorn shrugged and you chuckled, resting your head on his shoulder. He gently pressed his head against yours and before you knew it, your eyes were fluttering closed and you were drifting off to a sound sleep.

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years ago

Text

BTHB: Working Through the Cold

I’m not entirely happy with this, but some advice from everyone here has me thinking I will post it anyway! Let me know what you think! (and thanks to @slaintetowhump, @moose-teeth, @wildfaewhump, @robins-whump, Anons, @that-one-thespian, and others who were so nice about me being a schmoop yesterday)

TIMELINE: About a year before things get better for Killan

@badthingshappenbingo request: Working Through the Cold by Anon

CW: Extremely dehumanized whumpee, noncon touching (nonsexual), wing whump, muzzling, conditioning/training a whumpee, careless/casual/distant whumper, a kind of pet whump, referenced piercings, restraints, display whump

From inside the little shop, located on a busy street close to the central square, passing people might have heard the sounds of chirping birds, chittering small rodents (a southern delicacy, you know, when fed just the right mixture of seeds, nuts, and berries), two long, lean spotted cats built for the hunt and the chase, and one very old dog whose bark was much worse than his bite.

At least, he was missing enough teeth by now to undermine the threat.

A long-treasured travel companion, the old dog was fed rice cooked in a rich chicken stock with vegetables and chicken shredded so finely it didn’t require chewing. He’d had the dog for so long, now, and perhaps the old boy didn’t move much these days, but the merchant would rather rent a shop to help his dog keep warm over the harsh northern winters than be richer - and lonely without the old boy by his side.

The dog, of course, was not of much interest to his customers. No, they came to look at the rarities - to buy quill pens made from feathers saturated with a brilliant teal, or perhaps take home a pair of lovebirds cooing to each other, beaks just touching. An aristocrat or two with a taste for the meals in the far-off lands they’d traveled to might by the Sunning Hens for the soup pot, along with the packet of heady spices and tikla flour the merchant offered to recreate the spicy, thick stews from the south, where the people fought heat with heat.

They could come and see, while the weather continued to cool day by day, these reminders that there were lands, far away, who did not grow cold enough to bring out the painted lights in the sky at night, there were places that did not see the Longest Night at all.

They could see these things, for an easy, small price. In the large bay window of the shop, that angles outward and then in again, the people often paused to see something else entirely. No a reminder of the south’s bright colors and warmer clime, but… something new.

The summer’s warm air had been blown away by the oncoming winter chill, and autumn was in full swing. The trees in the small park in the town square were a riot of reds, oranges, and yellows, drifting down to create pools of color against the browning grass.

This far north, autumn felt like a luxury, a few weeks of middle-chill before the deeper freeze set in.

The people made the most of the time, and some of those people - when out their walks, or taking their children to and fro - stopped to look at the creature in the rarity-merchant’s window.

You couldn’t say anyone had ever seen anything like this before. In this part of the world, the fae were a whispered rumor of mountain folk more like birds than men, who swooped down to carry off lambs and calves and children alike. They were known to sour the milk and spoil the harvest using magic no human could quite master.

Here in this bustling city, the people had never so much as seen a feather that could be proven to be of fae origin - although many large hawk and eagle feathers were sold to excited children as fae feathers, the same way they might bring home a plush centaur or unicorn to line up in their beds.

No, nearly none of these people would ever see a fae in person, in their lifetime. But when looking at the creature strung up in the merchant’s window, they came as close as ever they would.

The creature shivered - the window did not hold out the chilly autumn breeze, and even through the slightly scratched glass the people could see the tiny bumps that rose on its skin, the minute tremors, the way its body fought to warm it.

It wore only a loose pair of pants - scandalous, if it had been a man. It looked a bit like one, of course, except… well.

Except for all the ways it didn’t.

In the window, they came to stand, one or two at a time - whole families on occasion - to look at the strange half-open blue eyes with tiny slit-pupils that stared back at them above a heavy leather muzzle dotted with little brass circles where it took in air to keep breathing. Wavy brownish-blond hair was chopped roughly, curling over rounded ears and against the nape of its neck, and only drew attention to the inhumanity written in the flatness of its eyes.

For all the roundness of its ears - and didn’t everyone know the faes’ ears were pointed and moved forward and back like a cat’s - and the gentle rather than pointed curve of its chin, you couldn’t ignore those eyes, or the blunted, pitch-dipped talons that twitched on its right hand.

A thick chain ran from the buckle at the back of its muzzle, keeping its head pulled slightly back, exposing a wickedly curved scar that ran down its throat from pulse point to collarbone. Affixed to the window at even level with it was a small piece of paper that read TWO VOICES, TWO WORLDS: 10 Marks to Hear a Song!

Iron cuffs around its wrists were chained to the wall, keeping its arms outstretched, giving an easy view of the other large scar down its left side, traveling down over its ribcage, fading out only just above the hips. Another sign here read FLIGHTS OF FANCY: Could this scar have to do with the power of flight? Come inside to see more!

It knelt - or sat, as the day went on and on - on a small cushion, and the people came each day to drop a coin or two in the box outside the shop and drink in their fill of the visual of the strange creature, neither man nor fae. Afforded the respect given to neither - not terrifying enough to fear like the fae, and so clearly not human.

The old dog by the fireplace was given more dignity than this.

But it wasn’t like the creature understood that, right?

Near its talons, one more sign in the window read: Razor-sharp talons slice a rabbit to shreds in seconds! These are dipped in pitch for your safety. Feel free to inquire inside for a closer look!

Mostly, they stay outside. It was worth a coin, or two, perhaps - to look at the winding, stitched-in threads that adorned its pelvis in a series of constellations that directly echoed the shape of the stars on clear winter nights all the way up to its chest, where a spiral had been sewn directly over its heart.

Assuming, of course, it had a heart in the same place a human would. No one seemed to know, and there really was only one way to find out for sure. The merchant wasn’t ready to sell the thing off for parts, not yet.

Some of the people, curiosity and the chill air driving them inside, couldn’t resist the pull. They meandered into the little store feigning disinterest. They looked over the areas where the merchant sold the rarities he kept in cages - brightly plumed birds, the little rodents, those two great hunting cats - and pretended to be more interested in those. Maybe they even bought a bird or two.

In the end, though, they gave the merchant more money for a chance at the creature’s wings.

They were huge, to the eyes of humans who had never seen fae - spread to their full wingspan by chains hooked into the joints that ran straight up to the ceiling. The creature’s display took up an entire side of the room, really, the side farthest from the warmth of the fireplace.

The southern-bred birds and rodents needed the heat, after all. The creature in the window seemed largely dulled to the cold.

This close, a paying customer could see the creature’s ankles were chained down, too, to keep it from trying to stand or move away. The occasional man or woman might flick at one of the thin but solid chains hooked to its wings and listen to the creature’s answering whimper as it forced the joints, even for just a second, to stretch farther.

While the creature kept its eyes on the people outside, it was the ones within the store who touched it. Their curious, questing hands ran over its spine, pushing and prodding at the scar tissue there, murmuring with scandalized whispers about the way the ropey, knotted skin seemed unnaturally thick.

There were more stitched threads, new constellations humans had never thought of and never named, that twined and twirled around its hips at the back and skimmed up the center of its spine. Galaxies were marked, and no one in this city knew what those galaxies might be called, but the fae knew.

And the creature - the boy, who had been named Killan once, and who now was only monster or creature or stop that, it’s not so bad - had been taught each and every name to scream into the spinning void as the magic was sewn in. Not that he told the merchant that.

Even now, abandoned and sold and then bought and sold and bought and sold again, there had to be some things he could hold inside, secret and safe from even the deepest violations. They had taken nearly everything, but they did not - they could not, they didn’t know to - take this.

Everyone thought the galaxies on his back were some fanciful nothingness sewn there. Only the boy - and the fae who had made him, and the other fae who had turned away from the horror of his appearance and had been the first to call him monster - knew the names of the stars on his back.

But the hands never stopped on the galaxies, and when they moved to his shoulder blades, the creature drifted uneasily back into the haze, colored with nothing, that let him exist as an it, day after day after day.

If there was still a spark, it was so hidden that none of the customers could ever, ever find it to take it away from him.

No. That he was still him was his own private secret. To the gaze and the hands and the curiosity and the endless need to know to see to feel to own of the people who came, there was no boy.

Only the creature.

It continued to shiver as the cold air drifted through the imperfect seals on the glass window and ghosted over its front. Even in the haze, the thing would tremble more and more through the day. Stomach hollow and empty, it held as still as it could under the overhot, clammy hands of the paying customers behind it, but still there was a slowly growing coating of grime and dirt and grit from their fingernails scratching at a thread to see if it would pull up, or rubbing at the base of its wings in a violation so complete it pulled an unwilling keen from the creature’s throat.

Every other day or so, the creature at least knew there would be a bucket of water over its head in the stables, a harsh brush meant for cleaning the dust from the horses, its own skin nearly torn open and reddened from how it would clench the wood handle in its hand and desperately try to clean away the memory of their touch…

Well.

The buckets of water were something, at least. And if it could not be interesting enough to be sold, it could be interesting enough to see.

The merchant was a clever man. He’d begun to understand that no one wanted to pay a good price for the creature, not here, but they wanted to pay a smaller price to see it. Give the people what they want, he always said, and you’ll make your fortune.

So he gave them what they wanted.

He gave them something new, at an affordable price.

The days passed, and autumn turned to winter, and still the merchant led the quiet, unprotesting creature with dulled blue eyes from the stable where it slept with the horses to the window every day, fastening its chains, stretching its wings to an agonizing width.

At some point, to amuse himself, he began to make up little whistles to train it to respond to. A certain number of notes meant stand, a second meant lift your hands, a third spread your wings. The winters were long, and the nights stretched on and on to a nearly-constant twilit near-dark, and he began to keep the creature in his rooms at the back of his store for longer and longer each evening after its daily meal.

The creature proved eager and willing to learn, when offered an extra helping of porridge or stew or whatever he fed it that day.

Enrichment, the merchant thought, quite pleased with himself. Like the small wooden clickers he left in the bird cages, like the tiny wheel he’d fastened together for the smallest rodents. Something to do, to put in the creature’s mind. A way to please him.

Even the old guard dog’s tail thumped, now and then, when he brought the creature in and it stopped to give the dog a scritch behind its ears.

Funny, how the creature seemed to have quite the way with the animals.

Still, even learning to move by whistle, to answer his unspoken commands, something was… missing, from the eyes of the monster. Listless, unsettled. The monster began to remind the merchant of silt - a swirl of useless dirt covering up the depth of a lake, or river. Making it look shallow and unsafe to drink, and beneath the silt, in the depths… what?

Empty darkness? Or a raging torrent?

To make up for the loss of shine and the heavy shadows under the creature’s eyes, he began to paint a bit of kohl and shimmery gold, not quite transparent, over its eyelids.

He couldn’t completely hide the way its spirit had dulled nearly to dying, but he could disguise it.

The winter passed this way. There were always new customers, and returning visitors, and one by one the birds, the rodents, and the hunting cats sold to interested parties.

Until only a few cages of birds remained… and the creature in the window.

In the winter, the shivers started faster, but the warm hands of the paying customers inside the store were far more welcomed than they had once been.

The creature stopped pulling away from them, or trying, and began to lean back, pressing its spine into a questing touch, tilting its head back even further to seek out the palm and fingers that had run so kindly through its hair. It would trill and chirp on command for the children who came by, and there was a slight wrinkling of the nose, a hint of a crinkle to the eyes, that made the merchant think absently, on occasion, that the creature might be smiling behind the muzzle at their delight.

From the window came a bitter cold. The merchant rarely ventured to that part of the store, and kept his own fireplace stocked high and crackling, to keep the remaining merchandise and the dog as warm as he could.

The creature, though… well, fae did not get cold so easily as people did. Its shivering was a show it put on, he thought, to try and make him feel guilt. He was unmoved. He ignored the whines and keens of pain when he finally unhooked it at the end of each day and its wings were finally able to curl back against its back. Instead, he whistled, and watched it drop to its knees on the wooden floor instantly in the back room, eyes closed to soak up the relative warmth compared to its usual proximity to the window.

After its daily meal, the merchant watched it curl up near the fireplace by the old guard dog, wings tightly wrapped around itself. He had grown a little fond of the thing, and so often allowed it to go without its muzzle for a couple of hours and warm itself before he led it to the stables to be chained down to sleep.

Usually, when he came in the morning to feed the horses and pick it up to lead it to the store window, he found it sleeping curled against one of his horses. And he never stopped feeling the prickling worry that the look in the liquid eyes of his long-time wagon team was not knickering interest any longer, but a simmering hate that grew each time the creature required its pitch to be replaced over the talons, or they saw the muzzle remove and replaced.

Surely that wasn’t possible.

Horses didn’t hate.

The merchant put the thought from his mind.

Through the winter, each day was the same in the little store the merchant rented. Wake the creature at the stable, allow it to stretch and bend its muscles in preparation, allow it to drink its fill of water, and then get it set for the daily display. Each day the winter stretched onward, the creature seemed less present than the day before.

Instead, the creature began to watch the twisting northern lights in the sky that stayed vibrantly visible late in the morning as the days without sun continued on. Instead, the merchant found its eyes were tilted upward, not on the customers, but up at the grayish-purple eternal twilight.

One night, the merchant paused on his way leading the creature to the stables, and caught its eyes turned upwards. He’d left the muzzle off, for a bit, and with so much of its face visible, he saw a very sentient look of awe written across its expression.

Intelligence was in that face, however dulled and deeply repressed. Humanity was in that face.

“What are you doing, creature?” The merchant asked, to cover his own unease.

It turned to look at him, and for a moment darkness covered the inhuman eyes and concealed its tightly curved wings against its back and he was looking at a young man, nothing more. A young man in chains, and with the red marks of the muzzle pressed so deeply against the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones that starlight left them in plain sight for hours.

The creature had not spoken in so long that its voice came out hoarsely hesitant, struggling to form the words. The monster had a soft, slight accent, as though it had grown up far to the south.

“Listening,” It said. One word only, and even that was reluctant.

The muzzle in the merchant’s hand twitched, suddenly wondering if he should replace it before he let the thing say a single word more. Still, he couldn’t stop himself. “Listening to what?”

The creature, who looked like nothing more than a boy, turned its gaze back upwards. Above their heads, a brilliantly painted blue and green light snakes along the sky like a snake, the trace of some great dragon.

The boy was silent, for a second, and then clicked deep in his secondary fae throat.

“Stars,” He said, plaintive. Soft and sad. “Wish they could hear me. I hear them. Try to sing back. Don’t think I’m heard.” Reddish tears welled at the corners of its eyes and caught the starlight, and it was that that broke the spell the merchant had been under, transfixed by the sound of its very human voice.

All at once, he remembered.

Fae magic.

The merchant’s jaw set in a shiver of repulsion, and he yanked on the chain that went to the ring around the boy’s - the creature’s - neck. It stumbled forward, and he replaced the muzzle, fastening the buckles with a touch more cruelty than necessary, until the thing whined at the pain.

The animal sound the creature made soothed the uncertainty that had so briefly flashed inside the merchant’s mind.

It bedded down obediently enough with the horses in the stables. In the morning, it was back in the window, on display for the stragglers who might come by in the crowd.

The merchant did not ask it questions again.

---

Tagging Killan’s crew: @astrobly @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @slaintetowhump , @quirkykayleetam , @whumpallday , @whumppsychology, @doveotions, @broken-horn, @moose-teeth, @whumpfigure, @oceanthesarcasamfox, @whump-only, @just-strawberry-jam, @loopylunacy (if you would like to be added to an OC’s tag list, please send your request via an ask! Those are easier for me to keep track of and I tend to lose requests in comments, reblogs, tags, or PMs!)

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midas-or-khaos · 4 years ago

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Wrong Place Wrong Time Part 2

Jojo

Some ways away, shivering like a newborn, Jojo could only gaze out helplessly from his vantage point behind a rock as his tunic was examined by both adult and child alike, whilst frost settled into his exposed chest and arms till it reached the marrow of his quaking bones. That boy was smart. Too smart, onto Jojo like a bloodhound. At this rate it was either he stayed still and eventually got caught; or make some attempt to get back his clothes, then make a break for freedom. It pained the borrower to have to let Sindri down, but this was getting too dangerous, even for him.

“C’mon, just ignore it! Listen to your dad.”

As if to spite him, the great mountain of chalk muscle took that moment to look round in all directions whilst slowly kneeling, ignoring his plea, and whispered back as if he knew Jojo was listening, “ If that is clothing, then we are being followed.”

Oh great, the hulking beast of a human was onto him now too.

The boy was looking above, trying silently to slide round to the man’s back unnoticed and be his extra set of eyes. “If Sindri didn’t tell us about it, then maybe it’s someone he cares about. Maybe they’re friendly?”

“We cannot be sure of the dwarf’s intentions. Always expect the worst.”

Arms crossed and furiously rubbing away at scrawny arms, Jojo could spot with precise, doe-eyes the tunic in question: the boy’s left hand. Both were looking in every which direction and checking their perimeter, if he made a move too suddenly or too out into the open they’d spot him for sure. There was one thing the borrower realised he had on his side though. The younger bean wasn’t focusing inwards towards the direction of the tunic, and his father wasn’t focused on it either, if he could keep them from focusing there long enough then he’d have a clear sprint shot at the item.

Time to distract.

Scanning the floor for something to throw, a fallen acorn sat close by. Easy to lift, makes lots of noise, perfect, but where to throw? Up above the two, a low hanging branch full of dead leaves, even more noise to make them look away from the floor where he’d be running. Waiting for both beans to look away from his position was what took the most amount of time, time he didn’t have if he was to survive with his arms and back beginning to cramp up and chest heaving with the energy to keep his body functioning. C’mon just look up!

There we go! Both icy eyes on the canopy. Taking focus once more, the boy stretched cramped limbs and javelin chucked the nut. The sailing seed caught the boy’s eyes first as he knocked an arrow, tunic falling from the boy’s hand in his haste. MOVE! Sprinting out from under the canopy, Jojo honed in on his prize, hands posed forward to snatch and run on a beat. The flick of the arrow echoed above as the fur became visible to Jojo’s eyes. Just a couple more steps!

“AAAGGHHH!”

A white hand slammed infront of his view. SHIT he forgot to check the dad! Running too fast there was no way to slow down, the boy smacked into the fingers and went sailing over till he landed on his back. Seeing stars was an understatement, the wind had been knocked right out of his ribs. He couldn’t see.

“You.”

A grasp like burning, welded iron snapped round, irritating fresh bruises and scrapes. Hissing and panting hard from exhaustion, the struggles and squirms were rabbit kicks in the solid jaws of the wolf, vainly ineffective. There wasn’t a prayer of a chance at escape now. The safety of stable earth was swapped for delirious changes in gravity, which direction was he facing now? Huffs of boiling fire seared sore skin, and it became clear as bronze turned ashen, He was in front of the mouth. The borrower boy couldn’t help but shut his eyes

“Open your eyes.”

Nonononononononooooooooooooooo.

“Hey!” The human boy.

The tremor that started without knowledge settled under the voice of a fellow child, enough to open a squinting eye. A smile like the sun was his reward. That, and a voice with gentle teasing on its tongue. How could he be like that at a time like this?

“Heyyyyy, sorry to scare you. Was this yours?” The very clothing in question held aloft, temptingly just out of reach. It didn’t stop Jojo from trying to lunge for it though.

“Give me my tunic back! I’ll leave you the fuck alone if you give it back!”

A voice of thunder clashed the air and left small ears ringing. “Why were you following us?”

“I wasn’t! I’m after the whetstone Sindri wanted!” The grip only tightened. Worryingly, a creak was starting to strain from the ribs, pressure building behind eyes that were beginning to bulge.

“You LIE. Sindri sent US after the whetstone.”

The boy butted in at last, grabbing the titan’s shoulder and forcing the two to meet eyes.“DAD STOP! Remember when we met Sindri, he was hesitant to let us go on this quest? It must be because he sent him first, and was worried about us meeting.”

Stone coils loosened their choke hold, and at last Jojo took a deep breath, coughing. The borrower could taste blood, but it was now or never to plead his case. “He’s right. Sindri let me go after the whetstone when he said it hadn’t been collected. I was trying to do him a favour, but that stupid crow attacked me thinking I was a rat. I’m not trying to follow you so please, just let me go.”

Both child and adult shared a silent yet violent conversation, trying to get the other to back down. Blue of the maelstrom clashing a tsunami of liquid gold.

Bearded lips curdled.

“...Fine.”

Suddenly going loose, there was no time to grab or find purchase. The borrower fell with a cry, no warning from the great palm, straight into the danger of open air.

“NOT LIKE THAT!” The distance was cut short, snatched out the air like a hawk catches a bluebird. Limbs stuck out awkwardly between the delicate fist, and rather uncomfortably, but a heave of relief that had caught its way into Jojo’s chest without permission let itself loose shakily. The other boy saved him. He hadn’t needed to but he still did so and was being nice. Perhaps he had been wrong about the young bean, but his fear had been justified with that beast of a father. The borrower couldn’t help squirming further into the soft fingers, even as they entrapped him in what should’ve been his worst fear. Being caught in hand by a human. The hand tightened closer in response, pulling closer to the fur he must’ve been wearing.

“Father, he’s not a threat. You shouldn’t be so rough!”

“He is a nuisance.”

“Regardless!”

Plainly ignoring any further comment, the parent just kept on track towards where he was before. “We cannot stop now, we have only so much time.”

A sigh from above.

Fingers unfurling overhead, the borrower looked up in response. Smoothing soft covered his face as a response.

“Here, sorry for taking your tunic.”

Putting the tunic on, Jojo could breathe properly at last, blood not quite so sludgy in his veins as he thawed properly. From here, the face was a little distorted (and kind of hard to take seriously) but the look was unmistakable. The bigger boy wanted to say something more.

“What’s wrong?”

Lips quirked anxiously. “I know you said that you wanted to be let go and go back, but if you’re after the whetstone too there’s no point in us leaving you behind. How about this, I‘ll take you with us so we can find the stone together; just because father is being rude doesn’t mean you’re a nuisance. If Sindri sent you, you’re alright in my eyes. Besides, we can talk on the way there!” The whispered voice of the larger youth was pleasant, if a bit unnervingly warm seeing as where that warmth came from wasn’t exactly safe. The offer was in his best interests, there was no doubt about that, but did he really want to be held by a human the whole way? Sure, it would be nice to be around someone his age, but he was still a stranger.

And his dad was fucking terrifying.

Seeing hesitation, the bean pleaded even softer, “Please? I’ll keep you away from my dad.”

... “Only if you keep me as far the Hel away from your dad as possible.”

That beaming smile from before returned. “I will.”

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starrlikesbooks · 4 years ago

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Time for July books!

as always, more on each book is under the cut!

Girl, Serpent, Thorn by Melissa Bashardoust is an LBGT fairytale-esque fantasy that draws from Persian mythlogy and has an all Persian cast. It involves poison curses, demons, and challenging gray morality. (And a beautiful cover!)

Unravel the Dusk by Elizabeth Lim is the sequel to 2019′s Spin the Dawn, the story of a talented tailor pretending to be male to win a coveted position, and finding herself on a quest with the mysterious court magician, who she might be falling in love with. If you haven’t read Spin the Dawn, do it! The ending of that book left me needing more, so I’m super excited about this next installment!

Loveless by Alice Oseman has been on my “can’t wait” shelf for a long time because it’s about an aromantic teen! Aro rep is so rare, and I defintely trust Oseman to do it well.

The Extraordinaries by TJ Klune takes place in a world with superpowered people, but follows the story of Nick, a regular guy and super fan of one particular hero, Shadow Star. Full of fanfic, powers, queer romance, and that desperate feeling to become who you want to be, this book promises to be really great.

Ghost Wood Song by Erica Waters I have already read and can vouch for. I’ve been waiting for this book to come out since I read it back in February! This is a southern gothic magical realism/paranormal story about a bi folk fiddler mourning the loss of her father and trying to prove her brother’s innocence in the murder of her stepfather. But the only way to do that is to revisit her father’s death, and find his old fiddle, the one that can call up ghosts.

Empire of Wild by Cherie Dimaline is Native American fantasy horror- so already more than worth reading. It follows a woman dealing with the disappearance of her husband- and then his reappearance, and apparent complete memory loss, a year later. This book seems creepy and amazing, and I can’t wait to read it.

The Faithless Hawk by Margaret Owen is another sequel to yet another amazing fantasy novel. The Merciful Crow is a caste-magic book, whose main character must take on a leadership position before she is ready to save her people, and maybe even guarantee security for all of their survival. I am terrified of this book because of the title and because the synopsis says “lovers become enemies”, but am I still going to read it asap? Oh, absolutely.

Flyaway by Kathleen Jennings is gothic fantasy horror novella where a woman receiving a note from her brothers, who have disappeared, makes her re-examine all her memories of them, and what happened to them. It’s supposed to be something of a dark fable, and a beautifully written one at that.

Feathertide by Beth Cartwright is a YA magical realism story about a girl born covered in feathers hunting for the secret of who and what she is. It sounds like we’re getting mermaids/sirens/harpies, and I’m more than ready for it!

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nuclearanomaly · 4 years ago

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Things you want to write...

But haven’t yet because you never write shit and never flesh out your ideas beyond self indulgent day dreams for some reason

Tagged by @stars-bleed-hearts-shine which is... thank you. Bold of you to think I write at all :P

I want to re-write? Re-approach? Just re-do, a mini-fic / thought dump I did years ago of Ninira and Estinien in the Aery. Just refine my ideas, headcannons about the Mana Cutters, and just their general relationship at that point in time; since I initially wrote it way back when I was only JUST starting to ship them. And while I haven’t changed much since then in terms of their timeline it would be good to come back to it with fresh eyes maybe... I think Nini’s grown as a character a bit since then...

On the topic of Mana Cutters I want to write another post Final Steps sick room snippet where Ninira gives her Mana Cutter key to Estinien after she’s had it adjusted for him to use, because she doesn’t need it. I was also going to include some Krile & Alphinaud just so she can read the room like a HAWK oh-ho >:)c While Alphinaud sits there oblivious.

4.56 stuff because did I write like a mad man after 4.56 dropped. Youuuu know it! Did I ever FINISH it? Youuuuu know I didn’t! Has it been so long now that it probably needs a full re-write? Youuuuuu bet!

Speaking of important points of cannon interaction and relationship development... 5.1... there is so much there I want to sort out and unpack and instead I just walk aggressively away from the word document because I’m really... really not sure I can do it justice.

In the department of AU garbage: BOOKSHOP AU!! I think about it so much!!! Because I am weak beans for Modern AU bullshit and like wow wouldn’t it be great to actually get something down. I am currently wallowing neck deep in thoughts about Estinien being the bassist of a small post hard core band and god do I ever want to get something out about it before I self combust.

Other AU that I sometimes affectionately refer to as the endless long doc of doom, that has Estinien and Ninira travelling to the Far East in search of answers to a quest given to them by Aymeric. It also has every possible fanfic trope I can pack into it including: slow burn, unrequited but not love, YEARNING, bed sharing, hurt-comfort, huddling together for warmth, getting hurt / knocked out and coming to to find the other fretting... you name it. It’s been a good 2? Years since I touched it and it probably could use a whole re-write at this point. I think about it still... so much It’s just daunting...

Carmela slid a VERY cute reference to Nini in one of her ffxiv write entries this year, and I’ve been thinking about what would be that verse’s cute little cottage home that Nini and Estinien live in ever since. Where Nini teaches magic and sets off explosions in their yard. And Estinien is seen more on the roof with a more mature Orn Khai than on the ground. And they’re both fascinating and terrifying to the local kids.

The your muse my muse suggestions still sitting in my inbox... I will, I WANT, to come up with good replies to these... I have some ideas they’re just so vague right now solidifying them is hard...

Oh the angst AU? thing where Nini meets her parents, but again that requires doing stuff like giving them names that for whatever reason I am avoiding like crazy. I had a modern AU thing involving her parents and a “fake dating trope” scenario with Estinien that I am still tempted by, but again... naming them.

#tag meme #text post tag #idk how else to tag this #is 99.9999% of this EstiNi?#yeah of course it is #I have a 1 track mind #and I want garbage for my garbage ship #I just... am a bad self provider #rip #ty for the tag

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skyaches-aa · 4 years ago

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This is a VERY LONG post about my portrayal of Avexis post Dawn of the Seeker. It details not only her experiences up through Trespasser , but also her companion quests as she has the capability to be involved in every game. This was originally posted to my inactive OC blog but I rewrote it here with some improvements. DO NOT RE.BLOG !

Avexis was led to believe that the Chantry and the Circle are good and right and will protect her because she’s a ten year old girl who doesn’t know any better immediately following her capture. She had not been in the White Spire for more than a year before the cult took her. She had been an orphan since birth and nobody paid much attention to her , until her powers manifested exponentially when she started getting closer to double digits age. The templars were called and they treated her well , so she had no reason to fear. Afterwards , though , once her animal manipulation became evident , the disdain rose and finally showed itself after her capture when her powers were fully awakened. She quickly came to fear the place she thought would teach her how to safely use her magic. The moment a templar she thought she knew called her mage like he was spitting out something disgusting she knew she had to get out. It’s not safer in the Circle than out there. Out there , she can protect herself. Out there , beasts heed her every word and she knows what she must do.

She can’t put her plan into action until she’s got a better control of her powers while not under thrall. She tries her best to talk to the birds at the windows and the rats in the walls , but even at thirteen years old and enough experience to know better , she is not subtle enough. It’s not long before her jailers crack down hard and she hears whispers of Tranquility. She’s been afraid of them for as long as she’s known the concept and honestly she’s surprised they let her live this long. When they come for her , she has accelerated her plan. Swarms of the small , unnoticed creatures attack the templars and she flees to the kitchens where she had rats storing food for her journey. She escapes , no phylactery to speak of , and is free from the Circle.

It takes her several weeks of wandering the woods of Orlais to find a high dragon. Even as she approaches the Gamordan Stormrider , it terrifies her. This was easier when she was enthralled but this is the only way to guarantee her safety. Being under someone else’s control has made her wary of how she goes about her own powers , but finds it more of a persuasion that allows her to speak to creatures. It’s like her charms are enhanced and the beasts of the world can’t help but obey her. Including the mightiest of them all.

Slowly but surely , Avexis gains control of four high dragons : Asleatia ( meaning lady crowned with light ) , a female Gamordan Stormrider , the first she encounters at thirteen ; Isenril ( meaning rebel of many fires ) , a male Highland Ravager she finds a year after the Blight ends ; Eilhana ( meaning snow wilderness ) , a male Greater Mistral that she saves from hunters during Act II of DA : 2 ; and Terisin ( meaning a stone that lights the fire inside ) , a female Abyssal High Dragon that comes to her just after the explosion in Kirkwall. She knows that even as her power grows , she should not keep more than this firstly because they are difficult to feed , and secondly because she cannot draw too much attention to herself that she is deemed a threat to remove.

Her timeline , involving potential recruitment by each protagonist is as follows :

ORIGINS : Avexis can be found in the Forest , during the werewolf questline. She is eighteen years old , and will be suspicious of all Wardens , save for some slight preference towards a Dalish Warden , and a mage Warden that takes the option to discuss their magic will immediately be granted a loose trust. If questioned , she states she is looking for the source of the curse that is killing the elves here. She has been shown kindness by the Dalish in the past , as they were willing to help her ( the specifics of which are only revealed to a mage or Dalish Warden , and that is her magic ). Werewolves attack at that moment and she will be forced to reveal her magic anyways , which leads to the dialogue that will either secure her as a companion ( showing no hatred towards her magic , which grants temporary companionship until completing the quest ) or her running off with the sounds of dragon roaring in the distance ( stating that magic is wrong , causing her to leave immediately ).

After the quest is completed , she states that she believes in the Warden’s cause and wishes to join in the fight. If asked what her qualifications are , she mentions her magic , and then calls on Asleatia. The Stormrider will not be seen at camp , but can occasionally be seen flying overhead. Calling on the dragon is a special ability , much like Wynne’s , in terms of its combat use , but it can only be used outside and not in Denerim ( so the forest , travel , Redcliffe , Ostagar , etc. ). Asleatia will fly in and breath lightning and claw at enemies for the duration.

Her personal quest involves the dragon cult present in Haven. If combat is started before reaching Genetivi and she is present , the people will see her as an usurper , which will lead to the conclusion that they worship dragons. After confirmation , Avexis will approve of killing the cult , as they refuse to listen to reason , and will instantly attack the party for having her there. The dragons will fall under her control and can be looted without consequence when killed by cultists , but killing any yourself nets disapproval. The high dragon fight can be skipped altogether , but fighting it will cause her to attack and before she and her dragon die , she is flown away. With high enough persuasion she can be convinced it’s for the best , but it will still net extreme disapproval , setting her nearly to -100 if approval is low enough to begin with. If she is not fought , she will ask the Warden if she can be given control of the remaining dragons. She intends to raise the remaining eggs before releasing them into the wild. The Warden can disagree , and again only high persuasion that this is for the best can lead to no combat. Either way , the Warden will receive all loot the dragon would’ve had if it was killed.

This is the deciding factor of whether she is steeled , hardened , or softened. Raising the dragons leads her to release many into the wild within a year , though they seek places with enough resources and rarely attack people. She is grateful to the Warden and sends them aid when needed. The dragon mother dies during the year , however , which leads to Haven becoming repopulated and Avexis moving on. Killing the remaining dragons and eggs causes Avexis to be extremely depressed and secludes herself in the woods once again , until she finds Isenril , which brings her fire in more ways than one. Fighting the Warden leads to recovery until she finds her next dragon , and a hatred for the Warden , vowing to have her dragons kill them one day.

She can be romanced but only by Wardens who are very close to her age.

As an aside , a blood mage Warden will be confronted after their first instance of taking points in the skill tree and returning to camp. High persuasion can convince Avexis that you’re just doing this because it is like any other magic. Otherwise , you can either tell her it’s for power , wherein she will attack you , or that leaves her wary if you tell her but don’t convince her.

Default is softened.

II : Avexis , now 19 , has come to Kirkwall following the Blight because of the treatment of mages there. She can be recruited in the woods outside of Kirkwall , where she is investigating the location of dragon eggs. If helped , Hawke will eventually come to a mountaintop area where there is a sleeping dragon and her eggs. Avexis is excited but hunters come upon them. During the fight , right as they hunters are killed , a cutscene appear where Asleatia and Isenril appear and eat the remaining hunters. Unfortunately , the eggs have been damaged in the battle and the mother dragon is furious , and is out of control. Hawke can either suggest killing it ( the reasoning can either gain or lose approval ) , or allowing Ave.xis to calm it down ( which results in high approval ). After this she can be recruited. Her base is in the docks , which is a small home that has a secret exit to the Free Marches so she can be with her dragons. She can also control the dragon in the Bone Pit and release it , much like the dragon in Origins.

In Act II , you can find Avexis in a state of panic because she heard of a dragon in the area and a hunting party is being sent after it. After agreeing to help , Hawke can find that there are hunters and blood mages vying for the high dragon. She wants to kill both of them , but can be convinced to hear why both sides want it. The hunters think it has killed the cattle in the area , while the blood mages need it for a ritual to help other mages escape and they need a lot of blood but don’t want to kill people. Hawke can either kill both sides , which results in rivalry points , kill the hunters for friendship , or kill the mages for rivalry. Avexis will take the dragon either way , and name him Eilhana after nursing him back to health. There is an additional conversation for the mages that allows Avexis to promise her help to them so they don’t have to perform blood magic.

In Act III she has joined the mage underground. Her quest here involves helping escaped mages leave the area. Assisting her leads to a special map location that looks much like the mountaintop behind Merrill’s clan , where the mages are ready to leave. Templars come and attack , which leads to one of the mages performing blood magic. After killing the templars , Avexis turns on the mage and threatens him and any others that performed blood magic. She is clearly scared , and Hawke can either talk her down or convince her to kill the mage. Either way , her dragons appear to carry the mages who survived to safety. Her friendship route involves accepting blood magic as not inherently evil , and her rivalry route involves fostering her hatred for blood magic. A blood mage Hawke can have additional conversations where approval can be gained or lost , depending on how they frame their blood magic. Saves imported with a friendly blood mage Warden makes those conversations easier to net approval from , and hostile blood mage Wardens make disapproval easier.

She will not join a templar — sided Hawke no matter her relationship with them. Either way , she will eventually leave Kirkwall , and her end slide implies she flew away on an unfamiliar dragon.

Again , her dragon summoning can only be done outside and not in Kirkwall , but she does have added powers that are dragon related for her specialization.

She can be romanced with more age leniency here because she is roughly 19 — 29 years old.

Default is friendship route.

INQUISITION : Having gained her fourth and final dragon , Terisin , and heard of the end of Circles , Avexis plans to attend the Conclave to hear what is to be done. She has been fighting templars and helping mages all this time , and wants to know what the Chantry plans on doing , particularly the Divine , whom she still has mixed feelings over. She is not upset by the explosion save for lost mage lives , in the end. When she hears that someone walked out of the Fade and has the ability to close rifts , she offers her services. She sends a letter to Cassandra specifically , and she tells the Inquisitor that Avexis wishes to meet. The mage is marginally happy to see the Seeker , if brought , as she did save her , but she knows too much of Cassandra’s Chantry support and family dragon hunting to fully embrace her. Either way , they meeting takes place in the Hinterlands , in the Ferdelen Frostback fight area. If you have already killed the High Dragon , Avexis admonishes you , but states that ignorance can be fixed. If you have not , your companions comment that the dragonlings are gone and a cutscene will come where the High Dragon lands next to you and roars. Avexis will emerge and ask if you would kill it or let her handle it. Trying to kill it will result in the dragon flying away immediately with the mage on its back , and she will state that you are unworthy of her help and Cassandra should have picked a better Herald. Letting her handle it results in the dragon leaving peacefully , and Avexis offering to join the Inquisition. She can be found along the walls of Skyhold , where you are able to see her dragons fly by on occasion.

There is an option to save the High Dragons instead of killing them , now , and each dragon killed results in a massive approval drop. Additionally , there is a sidequest that can resolve or ruin Cassandra and Avexis’ relationship.

Her personal quest involves finding a surviving member of the blood cult that kidnapped her nearly twenty years ago. Previously imported games have an effect on her demeanor. Softened Avexis is confident facing the cultist , but her hands still shake. She will have him at staff — point but remain silent to hears his pleas. Hardened or steeled Avexis is cold and insists on killing him , and must be convinced to listen to him after telling him to stop begging. Rivalry route Avexis has an argument that a blood mage is a blood mage and he must die. Friendship route Avexis will ask the questions herself about why he did it. He states that he resorted to blood magic to escape the Circle and was coerced into joining up with the wrong people. They would have killed him if he left. When they kidnapped Avexis , he was the one who told Lazarro that the cult existed and needed to be stopped. He escaped during the attack on the Divine.

The Inquisitor can either convince Avexis to let him go , try him for his crimes , kill him then and there , or recruit him to the Inquisition if the arcane knowledge perk was taken. Letting him go results in disapproval , trying him results in approval ( the amount of which depends on whether you execute him , force him to work for the Inquisition , pardon him , or send him to the templars ) , and recruiting him there results in minor approval. Executing him results in minor approval , and hardens Avexis. Forcing him to work for the Inquisition results in high approval , and softens her. Pardoning him results in minor disapproval and softens her. Sending him to the templars results in high disapproval and hardens her.

High approval Avexis sends aid to the Inquisition often , and remains in contact with the Inquisitor via stones and visits. In her off — time she is often looking for Solas. High disapproval leads to Avexis leaving after Inquisition , cutting off all contact until Trespasser , and still looks for Solas. Softened Avexis continues to raise dragons , though only keeps her four. She hopes to find Solas and discover why he left , and cannot be convinced to join is cause during Trespasser. Hardened Avexis raises dragons still , but found Solas and joined his cause , giving some of her raised dragons to the fight. A friendship Inquisitor will be left sadly , while a low friendship Inquisitor will be told to fuck off. Either way , saving the dragon the qunari have will be made easier by having Avexis there.

Her dragons can come nearly full time now , considering the locations the Inquisitor travels , making her combat special move much more versatile , along with her dragon — themed spells.

She can be romanced by any Inquisitor.

Default is softened and friendly.

#* avexis / as god as my witness i'll never be the victim again !#* general / saved !#i am still super proud of this #so anyways here you go ultimate guide to one ( 1 ) dragon mom #i did not include approval options though because #this is too damn long already lmao

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pikapeppa · 5 years ago

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Cullen/Lavellan and FenHawke pirate AU: Fine

HAPPY NEW YARRRR MATEYS, @schoute and I are back on our bullshit with Chapter 33 of Where The Winds Of Fortune Take Me!

In which the forest adventures continue and Piper and Rynne are the best and we love them okay. The chapter is a long one, ~9200 words, so only the first section is here; read it all on AO3.

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- RYNNE -

The forest was incredible.

They’d broken camp about half an hour ago, not long after dawn heralded the lilting rise of birdsong through the thickness of the leaves. The soft and heavy scent of damp soil and sun-kissed leaves filled Rynne’s lungs as she and the others followed Merrill’s trail.

Merrill was still following the ineffable voice that only she, Piper, and Fenris could hear, and Rynne was only too happy to trail along in her wake. Since she didn’t have to pay attention to where they were going, she could enjoy the bursting blooms and the wild sounds of insects and birds as she picked her way through the foliage at Fenris’s side.

Part of her mind still couldn’t quite believe that their path was being laid out by a strange elven sixth sense. It was like something straight out of the stories that she’d been devouring since she was a child. It was fascinating and marvelous and totally unexpected, and if someone had told her a few months ago that she would be wandering barefoot through a pristine untouched forest with a handful of pirates — herself being a pirate too! — and following a voice that only her elven companions could hear, she would have told them to bugger off and go bother some other gullible noble idiot with fanciful tales.

It was also somewhat unnerving.

She quickly shunted the worried little thought aside. Of course it was unnerving; it was an unknown situation, and everything strange and unknown was bound to be a little unnerving. But Rynne was determined to approach this odd situation with the same open-armed zeal that she’d employed during every other adventure she’d had thus far. Her headfirst approach had yet to fail her; it was that same headfirst approach that had gotten her out of Kirkwall, after all. And sure, maybe there was that brief hiccup when throwing herself headfirst at Fenris hadn’t worked out the way she’d hoped, but that had fixed itself in time.

There was also that terrifying moment in the infirmary two days ago when she’d been cornered by that pirate and she’d genuinely thought she might die. But she’d launched herself headfirst into that fight with all the defensive and dirty tactics that Fenris had taught her, and that had ended up fine as well.

Everything ends up fine if you try hard enough and give it enough time, she reminded herself. And she was sure this forest-y quest would be no different. There was no place for worrying or being unnerved here, not when there was an exciting mystery beckoning them forth.

Besides, Fenris was worried enough for the both of them. In Rynne’s opinion, it was far more productive to bounce wholeheartedly into this adventure so that he might enjoy himself a bit as well.

She glanced up at him. His face was creased in a frown, and his hand was hovering vigilantly over the handle of his scimitar.

Rynne reached over and took his hand. He looked down at her, and she beamed at him.

He raised one eyebrow. “What?” he said.

“Nothing,” she chirped. “I’m just having a nice time.”

A hint of a smile lifted his lips. “Of course you are,” he said sardonically.

She poked him playfully in the arm. “What’s that dig supposed to mean?”

He shrugged. “You take pleasure in the mundane. That is all I meant.”

Rynne laughed. “My father has this tongue-in-cheek saying: ‘simple pleasures for simple minds’. You sound just like him right now.”

Fenris scoffed. “I’m uncertain if I should be flattered or concerned to be compared to your father.”

“In this case, flattered,” Rynne assured him. “He might not be around much, but he’s full of pithy pearls of wisdom, that’s for certain.”

“So you’re saying I speak in platitudes and clichés?” Fenris said. Despite his sarcastic tone, his lips were curled in the most kissable smirk, and Rynne grinned at him.

“Well, you’re saying I’m easily amused,” she retorted.

“You are,” Fenris said. “And I mean that nicely. Taking pleasure in small things is… enviable. It’s a good trait. I’m…” He trailed off for a moment, then met her eye once more. “It is good to see you enjoying yourself,” he finally said.

“Of course I’m enjoying myself,” she said. “I’m walking with you.” She gave him a winning smile.

He snorted softly. “Kaffas, Hawke, you will make me blush.”

“Oh good!” she chirped. “That’s my goal in life, you know. To make those handsome cheeks of yours turn red.”

He chuckled and shook his head, and Rynne waited happily for his witty retort. But before he could speak, Cullen joined them.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said with a nod of greeting. “But I was hoping for your counsel, Fenris.”

“You don’t want to speak to me?” Rynne said. She widened her eyes dramatically and held one hand to her bosom. “I’m awfully offended.”

Cullen gave her a smile and a tiny half-bow. “My apologies, Hawke. I will come up with something to ask your advice on later, if you like.”

Rynne playfully fanned herself. “How very kind of you, Ser Rutherford. I’ll look forward to advising you as best I can.” She did a mockingly formal curtsy, despite her lack of skirts, then fondly pinched Fenris’s chin before skipping forward to join Piper, who was walking a few steps behind Merrill and Dorian.

She elbowed Piper. “You and Cullen didn’t come back to the camp before I fell asleep. What were you up to out in the forest for that long?” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Piper grinned at her. “Wouldn’t you like to know, you filthy-minded wench?”

“I would, I would!” Rynne said eagerly. “Tell me every sordid detail. Quickly, before Cullen comes back and his face goes up in flames.”

Piper laughed, but to Rynne’s surprise, her cheeks were turning slightly pink. It wasn’t like Piper to blush over a little lewd back-and-forth. What could she possibly be blushing about…?

Rynne’s eyes went wide. “Oh Maker,” she breathed. “You’re not–” She broke off and lowered her voice. “Are you pregnant?”

“What?” Piper exclaimed. “No! Why would you ask that?”

“Because you’re blushing,” Rynne said matter-of-factly. “Noble ladies always do the whole blushing pretend-to-be-coy thing when they tell everyone that they’re ‘in the family way’.” She rolled her eyes. “As though we’re all supposed to be titillated because a baby makes it clear that she and her husband have had sex. It’s all very boring if you ask me.”

Piper snorted. “Well, I’m no noble lady. And I’m definitely not pregnant.”

“Well then?” Rynne said curiously. “What’s the blushing about?”

Piper scoffed and shoved her playfully. “You’re a fucking nosy one, you know that?”

To Rynne’s amusement, Piper’s cheeks were turning even pinker. Rynne laughed and linked her arm with Piper’s. “I am, it’s true,” she said cheerfully. “But only because you’re actually interesting. I never had interesting friends before. Please, Piper,” she batted her eyelashes, “tell me your gossip so I can ooh and ahh and pretend I’m going to tell everyone whilst actually telling no one at all.”

Piper rolled her eyes, but she was grinning still. “Fine, fine,” she said. She rubbed her nose, then gave Rynne a secretive little smile. “I asked Cullen to marry me last night, and he said yes.”

“What?” Rynne shrieked.

Piper burst out laughing, and Rynne clapped her hands over her mouth, but it was too late; Fenris was instantly at her side, and everyone else had come to a dead stop at the sound of Rynne’s shriek.

“What’s wrong?” Cullen demanded. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, what’s happened?” Dorian said. “I do hope I’m not being left out of anything fun.”

Rynne turned to Piper with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she gasped. “I just – oh, Piper, I’m so–!” She broke off and did an excited little hop. “I’m so happy for you! Oh, but you didn’t want to…” She covered her mouth again to stop her chatty tongue from spilling Piper’s news, but Piper was still laughing.

She waved her hand dismissively. “It’s fine, it’s not like it’s a secret. We’ll tell the whole crew anyway once we get back to the ship.”

“Oh,” Cullen said in a softer tone. “You’re talking about our news?” He smiled goofily at Piper, who was grinning back at him very proudly indeed, and Rynne couldn’t help herself: she flung herself at Cullen and hugged him.

“Congratulations!” she squealed, and she hugged Piper as well. “I’m so happy for you both! I’ve never seen a pirate wedding before! This is going to be so exciting!”

“A wedding?” Merrill gasped. “You’re going to be married? Oh my, how sweet! I’ll make traditional saotabradh for you, Piper, but we might have to go back to Rialto so I can get some fine chocolate! And I’ll need pistachios too, the good kind from Rivain, oh–”

Dorian chuckled and quirked an eyebrow at Cullen. “Are you sure you know quite what you’re doing, marrying Captain Mad Piper? It’s rather like tying oneself to a wild Fereldan horse: thrilling and entertaining, with a high chance of personal injury.”

Piper laughed and flicked his ear. “Says the man who basically invited himself to join my ship one day.”

Dorian delicately dusted off his sleeve. “Precisely. That’s how I know what I’m talking about.”

Cullen chuckled. “I appreciate the concern, but there’s no need. I’m… truly, I am thrilled.” He smiled at Piper again. “I… yes, thrilled really is the word.”

Piper beamed at him, and Rynne clasped her hands together with delight. “Oh Cullen, that is just so fucking sweet. You should write your own vows!”

His smile fell into a look of surprise. “Ah. Vows. Yes, I had wondered – Piper, who will be actually, er, marrying us?”

She planted her hands on her hips. “I’m the captain,” she announced. “I can declare us married.”

“That’s not how that works,” Fenris said dryly.

Piper smirked at him. “Are you volunteering to marry us, then?”

He folded his arms. “I believe it will be Varric who has that dubious honour, given that he’s the other first mate.”

Piper snorted with laughter and punched him in the arm. “‘Dubious honour’, my ass. Come on, you gossip-hounds, let’s get back to this trail of ours.” She pinched Merrill’s cheek playfully. “Lead the way, you wily wayfinder.”

“Of course, Captain!” Merrill chirped. “Oh, but I’ll have to start thinking about what other dishes to serve for your wedding. We’re running low on salt fish, but we can pick up more of that in Rialto too, and I wonder if I can get my hands on some deep mushroom? If you prepare it carefully, it makes the most wonderful stew.”

Dorian chuckled. “You might as well get some of those Orlesian cakes with deep mushroom and anise while you’re at it. You know the ones called la misère exquise?”

Merrill gave him an affronted look. “‘The exquisite misery’? Why would we want those at Piper and Cullen’s wedding?”

“Because that’s how we’ll all be feeling when our dear Cullen makes the Captain caterwaul on their wedding night,” Dorian drawled. “I for one shall be eating cakes in my cabin while covering my ears, I assure you.”

Rynne guffawed while Cullen awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, and Piper pinched Dorian’s gold-studded ear. “No one asked you to listen in, you pervert.”

“I assure you I’ll have very little choice in the matter,” Dorian said loftily. “You can be incredibly vocal for such a small elf. Good work, by the way,” he added to Cullen.

Cullen cleared his throat. “I, er, am not sure how to respond to this.”

“Say thank you,” Rynne said gleefully. “It sounds like quite a compliment to me.” She elbowed Piper, who smiled very smugly indeed.

“No, don’t thank him,” Fenris put in. “You will only encourage him to taunt you further.”

“Oh please,” Dorian scoffed. “I hardly need encouraging. You, for example, also seem to be doing a decent job with our fair lady Hawke, based on the sounds that come from your quarters.”

Rynne gasped in offense. “‘Decent’?” she exclaimed. “I’ll have you know that Fenris–”

“Look at that,” Fenris said loudly. “Dorian just stepped into another pile of shit.”

Dorian flinched, bumping into Merrill in the process. “Where?” he squawked.

“Ah, my mistake,” Fenris said casually. “It was just some regular dirt.”

Rynne and Piper cackled, and Dorian scowled. “Very funny, Fenris. Kaffas.”

“Not this time, no,” he said. “Best watch your step, though.”

Dorian wrinkled his nose in disdain, and Piper playfully bumped him with her hip. “Oh Dorian, just take off your fucking boots already.”

“And step barefoot into a pile of unidentifiable animal feces?” Dorian retorted. “No thank you.”

“Would it help if we identify the droppings first?” Merrill asked. “Because I can help with that.”

They all looked at her, and she smiled innocently in return. Dorian’s jaw dropped. “Merrill, are you making fun of me?” he asked incredulously.

Merrill giggled, and Piper laughed harder still while Cullen began to laugh as well. They continued to joke and tease each other as they wandered through the forest, and Rynne twined her fingers with Fenris’s.

“Aren’t you happy for Piper and Cullen?” she asked quietly.

He gave her a surprised look. “I am. Why do you ask that?”

She opened her mouth to reply, then paused. It was on the tip of her tongue to remark that his reaction to Piper and Cullen’s engagement was rather subdued, but it occurred to her now that his stoic response wasn’t unusual. Even when Fenris was amused, his smiles and laughter were quite muted. The only times he was really expressive was when he was angry or upset.

This was different with Rynne, of course. When she and Fenris were alone, he was far more demonstrative in his affections. He smiled more widely, and his hugs were tight and warm, and his laugh… Maker, the rare and treasured sound of his laugh was enough to make her melt every damned time. But even then, it was more common for him to reciprocate Rynne’s affectionate gestures than to initiate them.

But Fenris and Piper were close in their own way, too. Rynne still remembered how she’d briefly envied their teasing camaraderie the first time she’d met them in the Lowtown market. Despite their obvious friendship, however, Fenris hadn’t even congratulated Piper on her engagement. And despite Rynne’s attempts to dismiss them, Anders’s words on the Lady Luck ran through her mind: Fenris doesn’t talk. Even Piper doesn’t know his story. You're the only one he really talks to.

She hated to admit that Anders had a point, given how snarky he was about Fenris. And yet…

Fenris was gazing quizzically at her. Finally she shrugged. “No reason. Just checking,” she said.

“Hmm,” Fenris murmured. “I’m surprised you’re so pleased for them, in fact.”

She looked at him in surprise. “Why?”

“Because I thought…” He paused for a moment, then gave her a serious look. “I had assumed you were opposed to marriage, given what almost happened to you.”

“Oh! Well, I think it’s awful to be forced to marry someone,” she said. “Especially if that someone is thirty-odd years older than you with a reputation for mistreating his female servants. But two people who want to get married? And who can actually do it and not get shunned by their families for marrying below their station or marrying the wrong type of person or any of that shit?” She gazed at him with wide eyes. “Fenris, this is something I’ve only ever read about in stories. It’s the stuff of fantasies, literally. And a pirate wedding to boot? It’s going to be such fun!”

“You don’t even know what a pirate wedding will be like,” Fenris pointed out.

“I know it’s going to be nothing like the terrible stuffy weddings I’ve been to in Kirkwall,” she retorted. “That alone means it’s going to be fantastic. Besides, it’s Cullen and Piper! Whatever sort of wedding they have is going to be marvelous because they’re absolutely marvelous together.”

Fenris shrugged. “I suppose.”

“Exactly,” Rynne said in satisfaction. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go pester the bride-to-be for details about what a pirate wedding looks like.” She grimaced. “Maker, I hope there are no heels or corsets involved.”

He huffed in amusement. “I would be shocked if there were.”

She grinned at him, then skipped back over to Piper, who was strolling hand-in-hand with Cullen.

“So,” she said keenly. “How did you propose? Did Cullen burst into tears when you asked him? Tell me everything.”

Cullen gave her a chiding smile, and Piper grinned and ruffled her silvery cloud of hair. “Oh, you know, I was just looking at him with his shirt all half-opened and I thought to myself, ‘you know what would be nice? Having that fine body in my bed for the rest of my dastardly pirate life. Best make him marry me so he’ll get naked with me until the day I die.’”

Cullen cleared his throat. “Excuse me, I, um. Why don’t I let you have this conversation on your own? I wasn’t finished, er, speaking to Fenris…”

Piper and Rynne laughed as he fell back to join Fenris, and Rynne linked her arm companionably with Piper’s. “Really though, I’m so happy for you,” she said warmly. “You and Cullen have been like a fairytale since the moment we met.”

Piper grinned. “The lecherous pirate captain and the prim navy commander? I haven’t heard that fairytale before.”

Rynne chuckled. “Not that bit, maybe, but the way you look at him. And the way he looks at you!” She sighed dramatically and fanned herself. “I could tell how much you loved each other from that very first day.”

Piper scoffed. “What are you on about?”

“Remember when Cullen came to drag me back to Hightown?” Rynne said. “You saw him coming and you lit up like a lantern. And he took one look at you and his face went white because he was so worried you were going to be caught. It was so sweet, I thought my teeth would fall out.”

Piper scoffed again and poked her in the arm. “You’re such a romantic sap, you know that?”

Rynne laughed, but she noted fondly that the tips of Piper’s ears were turning pink again. Then Piper bumped her with her hip. “What about you and Fen, then? You were making eyes at him from the moment we met.”

“Oh, I know,” Rynne said with relish. “It wasn’t love at first sight because that’s nugshit, but it was definitely ‘he made my heart speed up from the second I looked at him and I want to know everything about him’ at first sight.”

Piper snorted a laugh. “That kind of sounds like love at first sight.”

Rynne suddenly perked up. “Actually, speaking of first sight – did you know that Fenris and I actually had seen each other before that day in the market?”

Piper’s eyes widened. “What? When?”

“A few weeks before,” she said. “I was standing at the mouth of the market trying to find the balls to go in even though my handmaids and my guard were with me, and I saw Fenris. He looked at me, completely by chance I think, and… he was frowning,” she said thoughtfully. “But for a split second, his face just… relaxed.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “I swear, Piper, I stopped breathing for a moment.”

Piper smiled broadly at her, and Rynne rolled her eyes in a self-deprecating way. “I’m making an idiot of myself, aren’t I? I sound like a girl from a romance novel.”

“Yes, you do,” Piper said.

They both burst into laughter, and Piper elbowed her. “Ah, I’m just picking on you. I’m happy for you, really. And for Fen. Fuck knows he deserves to be happy.”

Rynne squeezed her arm. “He’s happy for you and Cullen, too.”

“Oh, I know,” Piper said. “That’s why he’s not saying anything. If he wasn’t happy, I’d hear all about it.” She snickered.

Rynne smiled, but with a little pang in her chest. Piper’s words were an odd echo of her earlier thoughts.

A moment later, Piper shot her a little sideways look. “Do you ever find it strange?” she asked.

“Do I find what strange?” Rynne said.

Piper shrugged. “Being, you know.” She jerked her head to indicate Fenris and Cullen, who were talking quietly behind them, then lowered her voice. “Being, um, in love.”

“Oh, it’s extremely strange,” Rynne said earnestly. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel this way about anyone. Maker’s balls, I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance. I thought I’d end up as some old asshole’s breeding cow.”

Piper stared at her. “Fenedhis. Well, that’s fucking grim.”

“I know,” Rynne said matter-of-factly. “And look where I am instead! I’ve ended up with Fenris. And he’s just…”

He’s everything, she thought. His intelligence, his snark, his anger and his tenderness… Maker’s balls, he was absolutely everything. His deep and thoughtful voice was the first thing she wanted to hear every morning, and the warm skin of his scarred and tattooed back was the last thing she wanted to feel before she fell asleep every night.

Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you, he’d told her. And Rynne felt exactly the same way about him.

She smiled at Piper. “I never imagined this. I have an active imagination, believe me, but I didn’t imagine this.”

Piper cleared her throat. “Yeah,” she said gruffly. “I know what you mean.”

I know you do, Rynne thought fondly. Piper’s face was half-hidden by her gorgeous wavy hair, but Rynne could still see her smile. It was the same sort of smile that Cullen had when he and Piper had announced their engagement. It was the same sort of smile Fenris wore when he looked at her every night as they lay curled together in his spartan bed.

Rynne leaned in a little closer. “Did you ever feel this way about anyone before Cullen?”

“No,” Piper said immediately and very firmly. “Not even a little bit. That’s why I want to marry him.”

“That’s a great fucking reason to marry someone,” Rynne said softly.

Piper shot her a tiny smile. “I like to think so.”

Rynne beamed at her. Just as she was about to start asking about pirate weddings, however, Piper looked up suddenly.

Up ahead, Merrill came to a stop and also looked up. Rynne looked at them both with wide eyes. “What’s–?”

Piper held up a hand, and Rynne closed her mouth. She glanced back at Fenris, and her heart did a little flip of alarm: he had also stopped, and his face turned in the same direction as Piper’s and Merrill’s.

“Something’s happening,” Piper murmured vaguely. “It’s…”

“Look out!” Dorian barked. A second later, a group of strange pirates burst from the waist-high ferns and attacked them.

Rynne squealed in alarm and whipped out her dagger. She dodged swiftly away from the grasping hands of a swarthy female pirate, who cried out in agony when Piper’s épée sank through her gut.

An instant later, Fenris was by her side. “I will guard your back,” he snarled.

“All right,” she panted. A skinny but furious-looking man was advancing on her with a large sword in hand, and Rynne swiftly slid around to his sword-bearing side, forcing him to circle sideways to face her. He swung at her a few times, but his aim was haphazard and careless, and Rynne evaded him quite easily.

He lashed out and grabbed her wrist, but Rynne quickly twisted her arm, forcing her attacker’s shoulder down into an awkward position. Once he was distracted, she jammed her blade into his eye. He released her with a howl of pain, and she stabbed him in the neck.

Then someone slammed into her side, ploughing her to the ground and knocking the air from her lungs. She struggled to breathe, but her attacker was on top of her and his meaty hand was shoving her head down and into the ground…

Her heart was a panicked tattoo in her ears. Dirt and leaves were all she could see. Unable to see her attacker properly, she stabbed wildly backwards with her dagger, and a little bit of satisfaction diluted her panic when the blade grazed solid flesh.

All at once, she was free. She gasped in a breath and scrambled onto her hands and knees. Fenris was crouched in front of her with his scimitar drawn, and her attacker was dead at his feet.

She quickly took stock of the others as she shakily shoved herself upright. Cullen and Piper were fighting back-to-back and taking on three pirates at once, and Dorian was driving his opponent back with a gilded dagger in each hand. As Rynne watched, Merrill darted toward her attacker and beneath his beefy arm before slashing a vicious gash across his belly with her shortsword. Blood poured from the wound, setting Rynne’s stomach to roiling, but there was no time to ruminate; there were two attackers left, and both of them were focused on Fenris, who was holding them off with his customary silent snarl.

Rynne darted out from behind Fenris and kicked one of his opponents in the back of the knee, causing the woman’s leg to buckle and bringing her crashing to her knees. Before the woman could do more than gasp in surprise, Rynne stabbed her in the neck, then once more for good measure. By the time Rynne spun around to look at Fenris again, his remaining foe was dead.

Rynne whipped around to the others to see if they needed help, but their enemies were dead as well: eleven dead pirates in total against their six. Maker’s balls, they’d been outnumbered. This could have been bad, and they hadn’t even seen it coming…

Her stomach lurched, and she forced herself to breathe deeply through her lips so she wouldn’t vomit. It’s fine, she told herself firmly. We survived, we’re fine, everyone’s still standing, there’s no reason to be scared–

Fenris squeezed her shoulder. “Are you all right?” he demanded. His eyes were darting over her face and body for injuries. He was bloodied too, but with no major injuries that she could see.

She took another deep breath, then smiled. “I’m fine,” she said. She pointed at the woman she’d just killed. “This dame here, not so much.”

Fenris let out a breath. “Venhedis,” he muttered. He gently stroked her neck before ushering her over to the others, who were searching the now-dead bodies.

Piper shoved her hair back and looked up at them as they approached. “They’re the same crew as that bunch from last night,” she said. She pointed to one of the dead men’s forearms, which bore a tattoo of a jackal’s head. “That’s Ianto’s sigil.”

“Shit,” Rynne breathed.

“We should be prepared for more violence,” Cullen said. “Ianto’s people take prisoners, and I do not mean that in a positive way.”

Rynne shot him a guarded glance. His face was more stonelike and stern than she’d ever seen. “Have you had run-ins with him before?” she asked.

“Yes,” Cullen said curtly. “But now is not the time to elaborate. From now on, we should be more careful. More cautious of our surroundings.”

His tone was slightly censorious, and Rynne’s belly twisted. Was she to blame for this attack? Had she and Piper been talking too loudly?

Fuck, she thought in dismay. But there was no time to apologize; Merrill was talking now in a worried tone. “We must be quick,” she said urgently. She looked at Piper and Fenris in turn. “You felt it before the attack, didn’t you? Something is wrong.”

“Wrong with what?” Dorian said.

“With the forest,” Merrill said tensely. “It was trying to send us a message. We have to help.”

“Help who?” Dorian said irritably. “Try and remember that you have three lumbering humans along for the journey.”

“The forest!” Merrill said impatiently. “The spirit that’s calling to us, the spirit of–”

“Fen’Harel doesn’t exist,” Fenris snapped.

Rynne stepped close to him and soothingly stroked his arm, but Merrill glared at him. “Say whatever you like, Fenris, but you can’t ignore this. You felt it too.” She turned to Piper. “Please, Captain. We have to hurry.”

Piper nodded, and Merrill relaxed slightly. “This way,” she said to them all, and she set off at a brisk jog.

They all fell into step behind her. No one spoke for a time, which didn’t help the ominous wriggling feeling in Rynne’s belly; she would have much preferred if everyone was joking around like they had done before, but if Cullen thought they needed to be quiet…

She chewed her lip to stop herself from speaking. When Fenris broke the silence and spoke to her, she was pathetically grateful.

“You handled yourself well,” he said quietly.

She shot him a smile. “You smooth talker. That’ll get you everywhere with me.”

He continued to frown at her. “When we run into the rest of these slavers, stay by my side,” he said. “I will keep you safe.”

“Maybe I’ll be the one keeping you safe,” Rynne replied. “I handle myself quite well, you know. Someone extremely smart and handsome once told me that.”

To Rynne’s pleasure, the corner of his mouth quirked in a tiny smile. “You are truly irrepressible,” he murmured.

“I try,” she said cheerfully. After all, what other choice was there but to keep trying and hoping for the best?

She took Fenris’s hand as they continued to lope along in Merrill’s wake. It’s going to be fine, she thought. She and the others would keep fighting and staying safe, and they were going to discover the source of this mystery voice and find some lovely treasure like Piper said, and everything was going to be fine.

Everything was going to be absolutely fine, just like it always was.

Pick up from Cullen’s POV on AO3!

#where the winds of fortune take me #pirate au #cullen rutherford #fenris #cullen/lavellan #cullen x lavellan #cullavellan #piperford #fenhawke #fenris/hawke #fenris x hawke #fenris/f!hawke #fenris x femhawke #fenris x f!hawke #fenris/femhawke #fenrynne #pikapeppa writes #schoute draws #pikascout

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birdlord · 5 years ago

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Everything I Watched in 2019

Movies

The number in parentheses is year of release, asterisks denote a re-watch, and titles in bold are my favourite watches of the year.

01 The Death of Stalin (17) does a neat trick of building goodwill for Steve Buscemi’s Krushchev, then brutally pays that off in the last few minutes.

02 Sorry to Bother You (18)

03 Support the Girls (18)

04 Paddington (14)*

05 Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (16)

06 Eighth Grade (18) probably the most terrifying movie I watched all year, if you didn’t watch it through your fingers, who even are you?

07 Morvern Callar (02) much less bleak than the book, but then, nearly anything would be

08 The Favourite (18) revolting and beautiful.

09 Columbus (17) a really lovely movie about architecture and parent-child relationships.

10 Bring it On (00)*

11 The Land of Steady Habits (18) feels wackier than your average Holofcener, but still a good watch.

12 Spotlight (15) i was really bowled over by this, and wasn’t expecting to be. Workmanlike filmmaking, but an extraordinary story, well-told.

13 The Killing of a Sacred Deer (17) Barry Keoghan is a blank, but somehow compelling screen presence. This one has an ending that made me bark with laughter.

14 Legends of the Fall (94)

15 Moneyball (11)* if you don’t feel like watching anything in particular, you can always watch Moneyball

16 If Beale St Could Talk (18) very beautiful, but I failed to connect with it on any other level.

17 For Keeps (88)

18 Abducted in Plain Sight (17)

19 Oscar Shorts (Animated) (18) the offerings were very sappy this year, but the winner was decent! Lots of Toronto content (weird).

20 Oscar Shorts (Live Action) (18) *unquestionably* the worst one of these won ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

21 Velvet Buzzsaw (19)

22 Vice (18) ugh

23 Friends with Money (06)

24 Can You Ever Forgive Me (18)

25 Bohemian Rhapsody (18) haha what. was. that.

26 Mars Attacks (96)*

27 Paddington 2 (18)

28 Buffy the Vampire Slayer (92)*

29 Shoplifters (18)

30 Blindspotting (18) jacked Ethan Embry in a supporting role?! Whither? Howso? Wherefore?

31 Witness (85)

32 Harry & the Hendersons (87)*

33 The Matrix (99)*

34 T2 Trainspotting (17)

35 Blockers (18)

36 The Slums of Beverly Hills (98)

37 Can’t Hardly Wait (98)*

38 Avengers: Infinity War (18)

39 Iron Man II (10)

40 Isle of Dogs (18)

41 Chinatown (74)*

42 To Live & Die in LA (85)

43 Age of Innocence (93) Daniel Day-Lewis manages to make Newland Archer compelling, where in the novel he’s...the worst?!

44 Shopgirl (05)*

45 The House (17) didn’t sustain all the way through, but then, that’s how mainstream comedies often go.

46 The Beguiled (17)

47 Badlands (73)*

48 Poetic Justice (93)

49 The Empire Strikes Back (80)*

50 Calibre (18)

51 The Kindergarten Teacher (18)

52 Hounds of Love (17) a nice little Aussie thriller, set in the 80s

53 Kicking & Screaming (95)*

54 Octopussy (83)*

55 Jaws (79)*

56 Lover Come Back (61)

57 Frenzy (72)

58 Always Be My Maybe (19)

59 Certain Women (16) took a while to get to this one, but it’s as great as they say it is.

60 Baby Driver (17) all flash, little substance.

61 Sneakers (92)

62 Roadhouse (87)*

63 Bull Durham (88)*

64 Ghostbusters (84)*

65 Booksmart (19) I think this will improve on multiple viewings, though I loved the soundtrack and the mix of characters.

66 Hereditary (18)

67 Rebecca (40) George Sanders as Rebecca’s cousin is BRILLIANT

68 Vertigo (58)*

69 The Dead Don’t Die (19)

70 Crawl (19)

71 Dazed & Confused (93)* If you don’t watch this once a summer, what is wrong with you?

72 Jackie Brown (97)

73 Talk Radio (88)

74 The Guilty (18)

75 Killing Heydrich (17)

76 Lady Bird (17)*

77 Billy Elliot (00)*

78 White House Down (13)* Channing Potatum saves the White House!

79 The Film Worker (17)

80 Whitney (18)

81 Mascot (16)

82 Apocalypse Now (79)* technically I’d only seen the Redux version from the early 2000s, so the regular cut is new to me.

83 Apollo 13 (95)*

84 Psycho 2 (83) the twist is very guessable, but there are a couple of nice-looking scenes.

85 Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (04)*

86 The Bodyguard (92)*

87 Murder Mystery (19)

88 Wildlife (18)

89 The Stepford Wives (75)*

90 Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory (71)*

91 The Natural (84)

92 The Other Boleyn Girl (08)

93 Speed (94)*

94 Opera (87)

95 That’s my Boy (12) haha what?!

96 The Big Short (15)

97 Elizabeth the Golden Age (07)

98 The Glass Castle (17) when I read the book, I genuinely thought it was fiction, it’s so insane.

99 Dawn of the Dead (78)*

100 All About Eve (50) lady on lady violence is a special thing

101 La La Land (16)

102 Morning Glory (10) remember Rachel McAdams?

103 Casino (95)*

104 Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby (06)

105 Pet Sematary (19)

106 Clue (85)*

107 Her Smell (18) amazing soundtrack and the songs were well-chosen. Heartbreaking musical moment in the final act.

108 Bobby Sands: 66 Days (16)

109 She’s Gotta Have it (86)

110 Good Morning (59)

111 Hustlers (19) I didn’t connect with this as much as the reviews led me to believe I might.

112 Nocturnal Animals (16)

113 Kill Bill Vol 1 (03) I’d only ever seen the second one before, being a non-Tarantino completionist.

114 Fried Green Tomatoes (91)* I watch this more than anticipated...

115 Steel Magnolias (89)

116 Notting Hill (99)*

117 A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood (19) the tiny city models were inspired!

118 National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation (89)*

119 Let It Snow (19)

120 Frozen (13)

121 The Irishman (19) most interesting as a sort of pastiche/reckoning on the part of Scorsese about his other gangster films. Really outmoded view of unions. Definitely could have been edited down if anyone were able to come to it without undue reverence, but I did love the bit about the fish.

122 Girls Trip (17) actual plot is beside the point.

123 About a Boy (02)* I always think of this as the “vomit and sweaters” movie, anyone else?

124 Animal House (78)*

DOCUMENTARY : FICTION - 4:120

THEATRE : HOME - 9:115

TV Series

01 Russian Doll - I think I would have enjoyed this more if it hadn’t been bingeable - would have made a nice week-by-week discussion sort of show. I loved to watch the changes between re-ups of our major characters, and I think the actual plotting would reward re-watches.

02 Catastrophe S4 - A satisfying ending to an excellent show, with very charismatic leads (and deeply weird supporting characters). Had to write around Carrie Fisher’s death, and I’m sure did a better job of it than Star Wars did.

03 Friends from College S2 - More of the same, which is what I was after. A show like cotton candy (but with more infidelity).

04 High Maintenance S3 - A lot more of this season took place outside of New York City, which was a great change of pace. And a great deal more information about The Guy and his own life; both difficulties and successes included.

05 Losers - This was a great little docuseries on Netflix that I didn’t hear a lot of people talking about - it’s about sports losses, but unusual sports ie curling, figure skating and the like. You’d think it would get repetitive, being as it’s always about recovering after loss, but it doesn’t! I wish they would make another season….

06 Shrill - a tight six episode dramedy about an alt-weekly journalist in the Pacific Northwest, based on Lindy West’s memoir of the same name. John Cameron Mitchell as her boss (based on Dan Savage) stands out of the ensemble cast, as does Annie’s roommate played by a British standup Lolly Adefope.

07 Broad City S5 - I haven’t always kept up with Broad City, but I came back to it for its final season, and thought it did a good job of setting its characters up for big changes in their lives.

08 I Think You Should Leave - It’s easy to assume that all sketch comedy is terrible and always will be, but then you see this, and throw your TV out the window (due to all the laffs)

09 Fleabag S2 - Everything you’ve heard is true, this season is goddamn hilarious and ridiculously sexy. A huge step up from the first season, which was already pretty fantastic and incisive.

10 Fosse/Verdon - Musicals are not particularly my bag, so I’m sure there was a lot that I missed in terms of references, but the lead performances ably carried me through all of the time jumps and various performances.

11 Stranger Things S3 - Say it after me: d-i-m-i-n-i-s-h-i-n-g r-e-t-u-r-n-s! Maya Hawke kills it, though.

12 Big Little Lies S2 - Unnecessary, and (if possible) even sillier than the first season.

13 Lorena - Part of the ongoing quest to rehabilitate the maligned women of the 1990s, this gave me tons of context that I had no idea about at the time, due to being a dumb kid.

14 Glow S3 - I felt like I was losing steam on this series this year, but episodes like the camping ep kept me coming back. A great ensemble, though some unusual character choices (like a certain kiss *cough*) took me out of it by times.

15 Lodge 49 S1-3 - I’d kept hearing about this show, so I finally sought it out. I can’t say it was amazingly compelling (I almost dropped it after the first season) but it’s definitely an oddball of a show, slipping from setpiece to setpiece with little regard for logic. For me, a background show.

16 Chernobyl - This show really gave me the Bad Feeling, humans were definitely A Mistake.

17 On Becoming a God in Central Florida - Kiki in a trashy mode, not as infinitely appealing as the version she pulled off in the second season of Fargo, but scrappy and industrious nonetheless.

18 Show Me a Hero - I’d put off watching this for years, it felt like it was going to be too dull (housing policy in Yonkers?) but it’s great, and larded up with Bruce Springsteen songs, obvs.

19 Great British Bake Off S9-S10 - I’d also held off on watching this for a long time, out of loyalty to Mel, Sue, and Mary Berry. But I needed some comfort viewing towards the end of the summer, and the new hosts and judge do an able job, although the show’s tropes are feeling a bit well-worn at this point.

20 Righteous Gemstones S1 - A rollicking ride for sure, with a great cast. Your mileage/patience with Danny McBride may vary, so keep that in mind, naturally.

21 This Way Up S1 - A small show starring the fabulous Aisling Bea, about mental health and families and some nice comic physical acting. Oh, and in case you were watching The Crown and crushing on Tobias Menzies’ version of Prince Phillip, he plays a hot dad love interest in this, which gives you all the Tobias you’re looking for, without the PP racisms.

22 The Crown S3 - This is the first season of the big cast switchover, and I thought it stuck reasonably well, once we were in it an episode or two. This season concentrated even less on Elizabeth herself, preferring her sister, husband, and (newly!) her children.

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