#i wish they were a plague or shadow dragon instead

[fr-thecollectors]

and Embra's lore is now finished <3

(accent: Seelie Core - Flame by Psi)

[geekgirles]

The Doll and the Dragon

Chapter 9: Close to His Heart

Word Count: 36,047

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Chapter Summary: "In the wake of her last encounter with Efrim, Amalia is plagued by questions and insecurities that are greatly affecting her mood, which doesn't go unnoticed by Yugo. In an attempt to take her mind off it all, he offers to take her on a whole new adventure. On the way, will Amalia find the answers she's been seeking on how to move forward? And, who knows? Perhaps she won't be the only one to learn new things about herself."

Something was wrong with Amalia, that much was obvious. 

Yugo had noticed something wasn’t right about two weeks ago, when he came by to her room to check up on her and ask her if Nora had reached out to her in the end. Normally, when he visited Amalia—which was almost daily at that point—, her face would split into this dazzling smile that never failed to make him feel valued and appreciated. Whenever Amalia smiled at him like that, he somehow felt more important than when he had to fulfil his kingly duties. It was a little hard not getting addicted to that smile. 

The fact that her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes then, even if he could tell she was glad to see him, should have been his first warning. But he took her answer that she was just tired from working on her garden and pulling an all-nighter just to be all caught up with her studies at face value and didn’t push the issue. 

His concern spiked up, however, when she tensed up the moment he asked about Nora. It was brief, but he definitely registered the way her smile faltered at his question, her brows knitted in an emotion he couldn’t quite identify, a shadow passing over her features fleetingly. But before he had a chance to ask what was wrong, it was gone, the suspiciously faint curl of her lips back on her face. Amalia just said everything was fine between her and Nora, and that they had a very eye-opening conversation (was it just him, or did she actually hesitate when she said that?) before each had to leave for their respective duties of the day. 

When it became apparent she wouldn’t be saying anything else on the matter, Yugo, concerned as he was, chose to let the matter go. He could always ask her later, when she felt ready to talk if something really did happen. However, when he suggested they went out to her balcony to chat like they usually did—since he had already had a sparring session with Adamaï so he wouldn’t be training that day—, he was not-so-pleasantly taken aback when Amalia instead told him she still felt quite tired and asked if they could leave it for another day. 

That should have been his second warning, the alarms blaring a little louder this time. 

Still, he respected her wishes and left her to her own devices, hoping to be able to spend more time together another time. Although he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel more rejected than he cared to admit. 

But the biggest sign of all, the one that forced him to confront the fact that something was very much not okay with Amalia was the fact that her melancholic and detached behaviour went on for days. Even though she didn’t stop welcoming him into her room and they had gone back to talking to each other on her balcony, as of late, their conversations had become nearly one-sided on Yugo’s part. No matter what he told Amalia about his day, the most he got out of her were noncommittal comments or sounds, meant to give off the illusion that she was paying rapt attention to him when she was anything but. The few times the king successfully encouraged her to open up and share her day with him, the doll limited herself to vague retellings like, “Oh, you know, the usual. I woke up, had some breakfast, worked a little on my garden before having lunch, then I went to class, had dinner… Nothing new.”

Her attitude was a far cry from the energetic, vivacious, and overly curious doll Yugo had come to know and appreciate over the course of the past few months. Whereas just a few weeks ago Amalia would have told him anything and everything about her day, as well as eagerly listened to what he had to say, hanging onto his every word with almost as much reverence as he listened to her, now she seemed to always be lost in thought, her vibrant brown eyes shining with a certain sadness as they trained in on images that only existed in her mind. 

At first he thought she was just homesick, but that idea was immediately shot down when the doll insisted she wasn’t exactly thinking about her father and sisters with more vehemence and conviction than anything else she had said recently. 

The king also tried asking around in case anyone knew anything, but no matter whom he asked, they all responded in the negative, shrugging their shoulders and explaining that, while they had indeed noticed something was amiss with Lady Amalia, neither of them had any idea as to what might have caused it. The only ones he didn’t ask were the Turquoise Twins; in Efrim’s case, because he knew the dragon would make some sort of disparaging comment towards Amalia, or make his already blatantly clear distrust of her known once more, or both; and he really wasn’t in the mood to argue with his little brother for the umpteenth time. And in Nora’s… Well, because she actually seemed a little… jumpy as of late? Which he supposed made sense, seeing as her twin’s behaviour clearly affected her more than she was willing to admit. 

But the way Amalia kept absentmindedly stirring her soup with her spoon, her head resting against her knuckles, when she had yet to take a single bite was the last straw. It was there that he crossed the line because he had gathered, and seen with his own two eyes, how little Amalia had been eating as of late. Divine Doll or not, she had to eat something or she would wither away like a flower in Descendre. If whatever that was on her mind was serious enough to get her to overlook her health, then there was nothing he wasn’t willing to do to put a stop to it. 

........................................................................................................................

Lazy circles formed within the creamy white liquid presented in front of her, chunks of the steamed molluscs she vaguely remembered the chef ranting on about as he introduced today’s lunch to them emerging from the broth before submerging themselves again with the next swirl of her spoon. Any other day, the aroma of the tangy clams combined with the richness of the cream-based broth would have been mouthwatering. 

Now, though?

Now the longer she stared at her food the more her stomach closed shut, refusing to take even one spoonful. 

It wasn’t exactly that she wasn’t hungry—she had barely eaten anything in days and was already beginning to feel the all-consuming void in her belly demanding sustenance. It was simply that the moment she tried ingesting anything, her frazzled nerves would act up and cause her dinner to refuse to stay down. Well, her dinner, and breakfast, and lunch…

And here she thought going through Eliatrope portals was bad. Now she felt like she was stuck in one even as her feet were planted firmly on the ground. 

Nevertheless, that was nothing compared to the storm brewing inside her mind, her thoughts refusing to quiet down even in the middle of the night. She would toss and turn for hours on end before she was able to catch a single wink of sleep, and when she succeeded, it was all for naught—her dreams were restless, invaded by the very same worries she had been trying to run away from by making it to Draconiros’ realm. 

Whenever she closed her eyes, it was Efrim’s voice that resonated in her mind, and it was all she could do not to cover her ears with her hands and fall to her knees as she begged him to stop. 

But the worst part of all was the undeniable truth that, regardless of the unnecessary brutality of his methods, the dragon was right.

Ever since she arrived at Oma Island, she had prided herself in her role of bridging the gap between Twelvians and Eliatropes. A role she was more than happy to fulfil. Truth be told, even though she was willing to do whatever it took to achieve her goal, Amalia would be lying if she said she so much as had an idea how. Looking back, she hadn’t really taken the initiative to bring all races together, it was all Master Joris and his mistresses’ doing that they were even invited to the banquet at Bonta. At no point did she reach out first. Of course, the very reason the Bontarians and the rest of the Council of Twelve even considered interacting with the Eliatropes was because her very presence encouraged them to, but that didn’t change the fact that Amalia hadn’t done anything to ensure that interest other than to exist. 

Deep down, all she wanted was to be of help to Yugo and his people, and she took her role with the utmost seriousness, as she did everything in her power to help the attending Council members to leave a good impression on the Twelvians. Likewise, one of her biggest motivators for working day and night on her garden was the very possibility of helping the king. Despite everything, however, Amalia had to admit, not without some remorse, that she had been far too engrossed in learning more about the Eliatropes to really broach the topic on how to help the Twelvians learn more about them, too, and vice versa. 

She stopped stirring her chowder altogether, her hand halting in its movements before falling beside the plate, unknowingly taking the spoon with her and leaving a stain on the tablecloth. Her brown eyes, already distant from the whirlwind of emotions overtaking her body and soul, grew even more morose, the stinging feeling coming back as the all-too-familiar tears threatened to make a comeback. But she kept them at bay, far too used to that state of mind to be as affected anymore. 

The glossy tint her eyes took didn’t go away. 

Could she truly say she had been learning more about the Eliatropes when in all the time she spent on Oma she knew nothing at all? When she remained blissfully unaware of the true source of Efrim’s animosity towards her? When she never even entertained the thought that the Twelvians’ refusal to welcome the Eliatropes was because they indeed didn’t belong to their world? Could she really say she was there to help when she didn’t even know the reason why the Eliatropes settled in the World of Twelve in the first place?

She couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must’ve felt like to lose everything you knew and loved at the hands of those who once were your closest allies…

That day, as she stared at the mural depicting the battle against the Mechasms, horrified that such cruelty was even possible, it was as if the scars, both physical and mental, that marred each and every single Eliatrope had torn Amalia’s skin, her heart bleeding from the inside out under the weight of her new understanding of the situation. 

As she stood there, the words stuck in her mouth while her tears streamed freely down her cheeks, all the doll wanted to do was wipe off the tears of each and every one of the Eliatrope children and engulf them into a big hug in hopes of making things even if just a tiny bit easier. She wanted to hold the hand of every person who had lost a loved one during the war and tell them everything was going to be okay, over and over again. Maybe if she repeated it enough, she would start believing it herself. 

She wanted to tend to the ill and injured and summon as many medicinal herbs and plants as her magic allowed her to so as to alleviate Qilby and Shinonomé’s burden as much as she could. She wanted to fall to her knees, bring her hands together, and pray alongside Mina and Phaeris, begging her father, or the Great Goddess Eliatrope, or whatever god that was willing to lend her an ear to put an end to the massacre. She wanted to hold the Eliatrope children close and take all their pain away, just like Baltazar and Glip. She wanted to help and lead civilians away from danger, like Nora and Efrim had. She wanted to do everything in her power to help Chibi and Grougaloragran find a solution to their problems, whatever that might be and whatever it may take from her. And she wanted to be by Yugo and Adamaï’s side as they battled the Mechasms, never mind if she used every last drop of wakfu coursing through her veins as long as she could give them a fighting chance. 

She just wanted to help. To help them and wash all their pain and suffering away. 

But she couldn’t, because she realised with a painful pang in her chest and a lump that formed in her throat as powerless tears threatened to choke her, that she still knew nothing about true agony. She wasn’t there to witness the fall of the Eliatropes’ home planet and what its loss meant to its people. She had never lost anything or anyone.

Her family was composed of immortals that lived far beyond mortal reach unless one was already dead. And even that didn’t pose any threat, as none of the souls entering Sadida’s dimension would ever think of so much as laying a finger on the Leafy God and his daughters, for they were sacred to them. 

And given the doll’s own youth, it wasn’t like she had had the chance to know and lose someone. For all intents and purposes, Amalia knew not what grief was like. 

In fact, the most miserable she had been was when Yugo started treating her coolly by keeping his distance all those weeks back. Her faraway look hardened into a glare at the memory. Could she be any more selfish? There she was, acting all offended and wronged just because the king wasn’t paying attention to her while he had to lead his people and rebuild their civilisation, all the while juggling his own heartbreak over their loss, no doubt. 

Efrim was right. She would never understand. And worst of all, she wasn’t sure she even wanted to. She didn’t think she’d be able to survive the sheer tragedy that had befallen the Eliatropes, and she couldn’t help but be disgusted at herself for her cowardice. 

She almost scoffed when her mind traced back to Efrim’s attack, how easily he had disarmed and overpowered her. 

“Some demigoddess you are.”

As the taunts echoed loudly in her mind, causing her to flinch and close her eyes as if in pain for the umpteenth time at the memory, there was nothing she could do to stop the red hot fire of shame from coursing through her veins. And to think just a moment ago she had been imagining herself fighting by Yugo and Adamaï’s side… She shook her head to rid herself of those silly fantasies. She ought to be realistic: if she were to enter a battlefield now, she would only be a liability. 

Amalia knew deep down that her powers weren’t the problem. She was well aware that her divine nature gave her quite an edge over most other adversaries, seeing as her attacks carried a certain power most mortals could only ever dream of, meaning she could easily outclass most opponents. No, the problem came from within. She was the problem. 

What good was it to have immense power over plant-life if she always froze up whenever faced with an actual issue that might justify going on the offensive? 

Images of her recent encounter with Efrim and of Count Harebourg’s deranged advances came flooding back, unbidden, mocking her. Her fists clenched tightly on the table as she tried to fight the painful memories off. Both times she had faced demigods who didn’t want her around—or, in the Count’s case, who wanted her too much—, and both times she froze up and let them overpower her even when she could have easily given herself some time by snaring them with her brambles. 

There was no point in denying it anymore; her magic would be of little use to her if she simply didn’t know how to use it to its full potential and she stood like an Elante in headlights in the face of danger. 

But what hurt the most, loath as she was to admit it, was the way Efrim had hurt her pride. No matter how much she didn’t want it to be true, she depended far too much on Yugo, especially to get her out of trouble when she felt overwhelmed. But, as the dragon had all so helpfully pointed out, Yugo wouldn’t always be there…

She slid her bowl away from her. No point in even pretending she was going to take a single bite anymore. Not when she was plagued by conflicted feelings and emotions. 

On the one hand, the idea of not always being able to rely on Yugo terrified her more than she dared to admit. She had got so used to his presence, to knowing she could always count on him—be it to share her latest discoveries with him or to have someone to talk to, knowing he would always defend her—that the mere thought of finding herself without him one day was unbearable. 

He was her best friend; she craved and cherished his company more than anything.

But on the other hand, she was a Divine Doll, created by Sadida himself to be exceptional and to need no one but herself. Compared to the other demigods on the World of Twelve, who were essentially mortals with longer lifespans and stronger powers, she and her sisters were truly remarkable. Their father needed not to find a suitable mate, he crafted them himself and brought them to life, sharing a part of his essence to ensure they got to live. And not just as animated dolls, but as actual people. Their feelings were their own; their thoughts and opinions didn’t hinge on Sadida’s; the Doll Master trusted them enough to let them venture off into the world on their own whenever it was required of them; and he loved them so much he made sure they would get to call Inglorium their home. 

From her time with Kérubim and Atcham, the doll had learned no other god showed the same courtesy to their children. The closest thing would be how each Ecaflip demigod and demigoddess had access to Ecaflipus, but according to the feline brothers, that was more like a hide-out, rather than an actual home, and it was still heavily influenced by Ecaflip’s bias towards his own children. Every other person with divine parentage was doomed to roam the world of the living, with no chance of ever getting to see the realm of the gods until their time had come. 

All that power within her reach, and she still had to rely on someone else to take care of her, because she clearly couldn’t protect herself?

Hot shame enveloped her entire being once more and she bit down on her bottom lip, almost hard enough to draw blood. She couldn’t go on like this. 

She barely registered a murmur coming from her left. 

What kind of demigoddess couldn’t even take care of herself? 

“...lia.”

Why did she always freeze in fear whenever she was in the face of danger?

“A…lia.”

How could she be so stupid as to think she could help Twelvians and Eliatropes alike if she couldn’t even help herself—?

“Amalia.”

She blinked, the sound of her name being called breaking her out of her trance and bringing a new sense of clarity with it, cutting through the thick fog of her self-inflicted berating. Blinking rapidly a few more times, she eventually regained her bearings. The mostly untouched bowl of that creamy substance was the clam chowder the chef had prepared that day for lunch, and the vast expanse of white underneath the tablecloth. Her brown eyes darted back and forth in the space around her, reacquainting herself with the room. The several members of the kitchen staff waiting on her, standing perfectly straight until she declared she was done with her food so they could move on to the next dish. The large, u-shaped table she was seated at, because the Council of Six liked to be able to talk to each other freely and see each other when they ate. The varied arrangement of cutlery displayed right underneath her nose she remembered from her etiquette classes in preparation for the feast in Bonta. 

And that was when it hit her. She was having lunch—which lately meant holding impossibly long staring contests with her food—in the dining room. 

“Amalia, are you okay?” The soft, caring, yet deep voice that never failed to send a pleasant shiver down her spine spoke again, drawing her attention to its source. Despite the many tumultuous thoughts running through her mind, she couldn’t help but offer a small smile. 

Yugo. 

He was smiling back, though his was tentative, almost afraid, as if he feared she might break right in front of him at any given moment. There was no hiding the genuine concern glinting in his dark brown eyes as they stared intently into her own. For a moment, Amalia wondered why he would be looking at her like that, before his previous question registered in her mind and she found herself in the very same impasse they had been reaching for the past few days. 

Just like all the other times before it, a part of Amalia desperately wanted to tell Yugo that, no, she was not fine. She was being plagued by doubts regarding her self-worth and value within his court. Doubts that had been spurred on by his youngest brother lunging at her and pinning her against the floor as she utterly failed to defend herself, proving just how useless she was even with the unyielding and insurmountable power of nature at her disposal. 

She wanted to tell him everything so badly… 

But, like every single time before, just as she was about to open her mouth and confess her innermost fears and thoughts, Nora’s desperate pleas to not breathe a word to Yugo came flooding back. With clasped hands and fearful, pink eyes, she begged the doll to let her take care of her twin, as he and Yugo had been clashing over her presence on the island for a long time and the last thing she wanted was to further stress her older brother and king. Despite her better judgement, Amalia found herself agreeing with Nora and promising to keep Yugo out of this—he already did so much, for her and for his people; the last thing he needed was for her to add more to his plate. 

And so, once again, the Sadida Doll chose to swallow back down the words clashing against her throat, clamouring for freedom, and simply gave a slight nod of her head.

“Oh, yes, I’m perfectly fine. Thanks for asking.” Saying that had all but become second nature at this point. 

“Are you sure?” This time, she was slightly startled to remember they weren’t alone, her head immediately snapping at the new voice. As she turned to her left, staring straight past Yugo, she came face to face with a draconic face covered with white and blue scales. Oh, that was right. Adamaï was there with them, too. She had honestly forgotten. 

“What do you mean, Adamaï?” She asked, grimacing to herself when her voice sounded weaker than she would’ve liked.

He merely pointed his own spoon in her direction, “You barely touched your food. What’s the matter? Is it not to your liking?”

Her eyes trailing back to her—mostly untouched and most likely cold—plate of chowder, the doll deflated slightly, turning her face away from the Emerald Twins—why were they known as the ‘Emerald Twins’ though? Amalia had heard many of their subjects refer to them and the other members of the Council like that or with similar naming conventions, but she still had to understand what emeralds and such had to do with Yugo and Adamaï. “No, no. Everything is delicious.”

Her voice sounded pathetically small even to her ears. 

As the doll went back to staring silently at her discarded food, a crestfallen expression etched onto her face, the Eliatrope and his dragon twin shared concerned glances. Even if they didn’t share a telepathic link, they would have known what the other was thinking even without words. 

“I’m worried about her, Ad.” Yugo told his brother, his eyes continuously going back to Amalia. “She seems down, she barely talks anymore, and she barely eats anything lately.”

“Her sudden change in demeanour is quite strange…” The dragon agreed, taking a spoonful of his own soup. “Just the other day, she was practically buzzing with excitement over the idea of showing her progress in her garden to us.”

“And now she doesn’t even have the energy to share how her day’s been when we talk…” Yugo finished for him, letting out a pained sigh. 

After a minute of silence where the two just sent furtive glances the doll’s way, trying to earn a reaction out of her, Adamaï went and voiced the thoughts running through their minds. “You said she’s been like this since the day after Nora talked to her. Are you sure nothing happened between the two?”

“What could have possibly happened, Ad? Amalia’s never had any trouble with Nora, and vice versa. In fact, you know as well as I do that our dear sister has always been very accepting of her, so I simply don’t see what could have gone wrong!” His mind traced back to all the times Nora made an approving comment of Amalia or not-so-subtly flirted with her, taking refuge in her own audacity and the fact that it all flew right over the doll’s head to avoid the consequences. 

Seeing his brother pout, Adamaï couldn’t help himself, “Careful, Brother. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re jealous of Nora.” If looks could kill, the glare he shot him should have buried him several metres feet under already. Pursing his lips awkwardly, he let out a sheepish, “Sorry.”

After a tense few seconds, with a loud exhale, Yugo’s expression melted into one of resignation, and even that wasn’t enough to draw Amalia’s attention to them. “I really don’t know what could’ve caused this, Ad. As you said, not that long ago she was perfectly fine! But you just saw it for yourself; every time I try asking her if anything’s wrong, she insists she’s fine even when she’s clearly not!”

Adamaï hummed, coming to hold his chin between his claws. “Have you tried asking Nora about it? You might have better luck with her.” But the king just shook his head ruefully. 

“Getting a hold of Nora these past few days is even more difficult than getting an honest answer out of Amalia. I think she’s still reeling from Efrim’s actions back in the garden. Even if she doesn’t like to let it show, she’s worried sick about him.”

“She’s not the only one…” Adamaï commented drily. He averted his gaze as he thought back on his little brother and his worryingly paranoid attitude upon welcoming Amalia. And to think, not that long ago, that same dragon spent his time making flower crowns for the children alongside his sister…

He let out a resigned sigh; no point in dwelling in the past now. Not when the present already demanded their full attention. He set his own spoon down, having finished with his chowder. As Serviette, one of the kitchen staff, hurried to take his bowl away and set down the main course in front of him, he asked Yugo, “So if talking to either of them is futile, what do you suggest we do?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking you for help.” Yugo deadpanned. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll admit I walked right into that one.” He just raised his claws defensively, a fork and a knife in each one. Interestingly, that got a reaction out of Amalia, who arched a questioning eyebrow at them, causing the twins to smile sheepishly and insist it was nothing. With that crisis averted, the white-and-blue dragon sliced a piece of roasted Gobball leg and brought it to his mouth with his fork as he considered their options. 

“For better or worse, it’s obvious Amalia doesn’t feel like talking about whatever it is that’s bothering her.” He began. 

“I see your detective skills are as sharp as always, Brother.” Yugo commented drily, a sarcastic eyebrow raised. He could only roll his eyes when his twin flashed him an annoyed glare. 

“Hey, being the sarcastic, logical twin is my thing,” he protested, pointing an accusatory fork at his king. “You’re the earnest, emotionally-driven one, okay? Let’s not get any funny ideas…” 

Choosing to ignore the way his brother rolled his eyes yet again, Adamaï went back to trying to come up with a way to help Yugo and, by extension, Amalia. As he pondered on what to do, his attention was drawn to a falling leaf that had drifted into the room through an open window. Looking up, he squinted his eyes at the sight of the filtering sunrays leaking into the room, catching a glimpse of the passing clouds above them. 

In a way, this world’s skies were both as similar to their own as they were foreign. Not for the first time, Adamaï felt the inescapable yearning for adventure that always pulled him and Yugo away from home back in their world. Back then, they never thought twice about it—the moment adventure came calling for them, they answered her call. 

Now, however, the Emerald dragon couldn’t help but feel stifled and trapped as they were forced to remain still in one place lest they risked putting the natives on edge. And he knew for a fact his restlessness was nothing compared to Yugo’s. The only reason the guy didn’t declare himself a nomad was because he was their king and he loved his family and subjects too much to ever think of abandoning them for good. 

Not for the first time, Adamaï found himself genuinely impressed by Sadida’s talent for matchmaking. Even without knowing a single thing about the Eliatrope King, the daughter the Leafy God sent Yugo was perfect for him. Adamaï and Yugo used to believe no one could possibly love exploring more than the two of them, yet, lo and behold, Amalia was as passionate about the idea of leaving the palace and venturing into the unknown as they were. 

Sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder how Amalia didn’t go completely insane from being all but locked up in Oma Island, seeing as she depended on Yugo to leave the palace premises and even when he was with her he didn’t dare step foot outside their island. Truth be told, Adamaï knew he wouldn’t have been able to stand it if had he been in her shoes—or…complete lack thereof, as a matter of fact, given how the doll preferred to go barefoot at all times—; he would have completely lost it hadn’t it been for the banquet at Oma and—.

He straightened in his seat as realisation hit him, his head turning to face his brother so fast he almost gave himself whiplash, and Yugo was staring at him with his eyebrows shooting up to the ceiling. A tentative grin forming on his face—before he reluctantly had to reassume his neutral expression due to Yugo warning him he was doing that thing where he looked downright creepy even if he tried to appear friendly—, he finally said, “Why not distract her?”

“What?” Yugo blinked, not following. 

“You want to help Amalia deal with whatever she’s going through, right?” When his twin nodded, he continued. “Well, it’s clear she doesn’t feel ready to open up about whatever’s bothering her, so why don’t you just take her mind off of it for a bit? Obsessing over it won’t help her either, might as well forget all about it for a while and have some fun.”

Yugo actually considered it for a moment, the ears of his hood twitching in interest. As always, Ad had a point. More often than not, when he had something on his mind or faced a problem that wasn’t easy to solve but he didn’t feel ready to share his burden with his twin and the rest of their siblings just yet, he usually tried to give himself some respite by taking his mind off of it. Which usually involved training until he was too exhausted to think, spending time with Amalia, or both. 

With that in mind, it was only natural Amalia would only feel worse the more she thought about whatever was on her mind, especially if she still didn’t feel like opening up. In that case, the best thing he could do for her really was to help her relax and forget about her issues, even if it was just for a little while. Maybe then she would finally feel comfortable enough to confide her insecurities in him. 

His mind made up just in time for Serviette to take his plate, too, he leaned closer to his dragon twin, “And what do you suggest I do?”

Adamaï’s smirk widened. Taking advantage of their mind link, he was free to tell Yugo even the things they were careful to keep to themselves even in the presence of their siblings. For his part, the more Yugo listened to his brother’s suggestion, the more his eyes widened, completely taken aback. That was honestly the last thing he expected Adamaï to come up with. 

His mind still reeling, he couldn’t help but ask, “Are you sure?”

The dragon just shrugged. “If she doesn’t perk up at that, then nothing will get a reaction out of her.”

“No, but… Ad, I mean if you’re sure it’s a good idea.”

“I understand it can be a little risky, but might as well try, right? After all, you’ll be safer there, all things considered.”

Once again, his twin raised a very valid point. Technically, they should be safer there; there was a reason why the two of them ever went there in the first place, after all. But that didn’t mean he felt comfortable with the prospect of possibly endangering Amalia or his people’s already fragile acceptance amongst the Twelvians. 

As in reading his thoughts, and, all things considered, he probably had, Adamaï was quick to dissuade his brother’s worries by placing a claw on his shoulder and flashing him an encouraging grin. “Yugo, it’s okay. Seriously, the only place I can think of that she might be safer in is the Sadida Kingdom. But if you do encounter trouble, just remember I’ll be able to sense it and come to your rescue right away.” He finished with a cheeky wink. 

Despite everything, Yugo couldn’t help but smile, grateful for having the best brother in the Krosmoz. “Thanks, Ad.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Go get ‘er, Tiger.”

Rolling his eyes playfully, the king had to stifle down a snort at Adamaï’s antics. He was usually so serious and composed, if he didn’t know him as well as he did, he might’ve been taken aback by the dragon’s many different sides. As it were, however, he was more than used to it. 

Brown eyes glancing over to the wilting flower staring off into space right next to him, Yugo set his mind back on the task at hand. When he called out to her and she actually seemed startled by the intensity in his voice, he had to force himself to dial it back down a bit, instead opting for a friendlier, more casual approach. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Her heart still beating a little faster than usual, Amalia quickly shook her head to snap out of her trance. “It… It’s okay, Yugo. I was just lost in thought…”

The king bit back a retort about how she seemed to be lost in thought a lot lately and plunged ahead towards his goal with unwavering determination. “Are you busy these days?”

The doll blinked, confused. “Ehrm… not really? I mean, I still have to tend to my garden, but ever since the kids started their training, I don’t have to go to Glip and Baltazar’s lessons, so I guess that leaves me with much more free time.”

“Great!” He beamed, and that alone was enough to send a flutter to Amalia’s heart, the sweet rhythm it now beat a stark contrast to the anxious tempo of the last few days. “Then are you free to go out with me?”

It was like hearing bells, those words alone awakening her from the restless slumber she had fallen under. As the almost forgotten thrill of anticipation danced through her fingertips and slowly made its way all over her body, the doll’s eyes twinkled. “Go out? You mean, like when you took me to the beach, or to see the village?”

The grin never leaving his face, Yugo nodded, a newfound sense of hope finding its way into his heart. It was incredible how Amalia’s entire demeanour changed at the prospect of adventure. Sometimes he still struggled to believe a girl like her, one that cherished the call to adventure about as much as he and Adamaï did, was even real. 

Amalia, who was already at the edge of her seat at the prospect of leaving the palace walls, which had become all the more stifling after her last encounter with Efrim, as each time she turned around a corner she feared she would stumble into him; suddenly felt her cheeks grow hot when Yugo leaned in close into her personal space, his hair brushing the side of her face. 

And yet, despite the way her heart was hammering in her chest at the close proximity, it still stopped when he whispered into the shell of her ear, “Only this time, we’ll be leaving Oma Island.”

.......................................................................................................................

With a pained groan and weak knees, Amalia stumbled forward and onto the ground on all fours, using her hands for support. She grimaced as the familiar dry heaving raked her body, though, thankfully, nothing came out. Yugo came to her aid, crouching down by her side and rubbing soothing circles on her back as she recovered. She could feel the bandages against her bare skin.

“What is it with you Eliatropes and completely ignoring my more than justified refusal to go through your portals?” She whined pitifully, the somersaults in her stomach gradually subsiding. 

“Hey, look at the bright side.” Yugo tried to console her with his never-ending optimism—most of the time, Amalia found that quality of his to be adorable and inspiring; now it was just plain annoying. “Before you know it, you’ll be able to go through portals no problem!”

“Nora said the exact same thing the other day and my answer still hasn’t changed.” The doll grumbled, making a face as she wiped drool off her face with the back of her hand. 

That got Yugo’s attention, or rather, the implications behind her words. 

“You’ve gone through one of Nora’s portals? When?”

Suddenly, the reason the Divine Doll’s mahogany complexion paled had nothing to do with her upset stomach. Silently cursing herself for her slip of the tongue, Amalia hastily tried to stand up as she shrugged the matter off, “O-oh! Y-you know, the other day. It was nothin—woah!” Unfortunately for her, she had stood up too fast while her body was still recovering, causing a dizzy spell to overtake her and send her tumbling down. 

At least, that was what Amalia was expecting. Instead, she collided against something firm and warm. Her brow furrowed in confusion, she blindly pawed at the solid surface she had stumbled into, her eyes widening when two strong arms snaked around her waist. Looking up, she was startled to find herself face-to-face with Yugo—literally—, who didn’t waste any time catching and pulling her close to him when it looked like she was about to fall down. 

A soft blush crept up on both of their cheeks as they stared deep into each other’s eyes, brown orbs meeting their counterpart and refusing to break the contact. They were so close their noses almost touched, and their warm breaths mingled. Ironically, the feeling of Yugo’s warm exhales tickling Amalia’s neck was enough to make her shiver. Neither noticed when they began to lean in close, their eyes slowly fluttering shut. 

Just as they were about to close the distance, however, the doll’s eyes snapped open in shock, embarrassment coursing through her veins as she abruptly remembered she had just been dry heaving and, even though she didn’t actually throw up, she couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about her breath. But even as she awkwardly broke the embrace Yugo had her in and he sent her an equally sheepish grin at the same time as he rubbed the back of his head nervously, a small part of Amalia couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened hadn’t she pulled away at the last moment. 

Her thoughts swirling, she almost didn’t hear the Eliatrope King when he said, “A-anyway.” He cleared his throat. Was she imagining things, or did his voice sound a little strained right now? “S-sorry about that, Amalia. I know you really hate portals but, as you know, it’s the only way to make it to the village.”

She snapped to attention when the meaning of his words finally registered in her mind. 

“Oh!” She so eloquently exclaimed. She shrugged, pretending to be a lot more unaffected by the whole thing than she actually was. “W-well, it can’t be helped, I suppose. I’d just wish I didn’t have to go through an Eliatrope portal every other day.”

“Ah, but that’s no trouble at all!” Yugo exclaimed, earning himself an odd look from Amalia as the two of them fell into an easy march in the direction of the Eliatrope village. “We could always just get you a house at the village, that way you wouldn’t have to go through a portal to get there. See? Problem solved!”

In response, the doll just snorted at his antics, shaking her head while she waved the mere notion off with one hand. “Oh, no. No way. Forget it.”

“Why? It’s the perfect solution!”

“Because,” she sent him a pointed yet playful look, “I would still have to use portals to go to the palace. It’s literally the same problem but backwards!”

The king pretended to consider it, making a show of tapping a finger against his chin pensively as he looked upwards in thought. “I suppose you’re right.” He finally admitted with an exaggerated shrug, causing Amalia to try and stifle her giggles behind her hands. 

“Though, now that I think about it, it would also pose another problem.” He added, his tone never losing the levity befitting of the conversation. 

“Really now? And what do you suggest that is, Your Majesty?”

“Why, Lady Amalia! Isn’t it obvious?” He leaned closer into her personal space, never stopping his march, capturing her full attention as she looked up at him in wonder.

The impish glint in his brown eyes softened into something undeniably affectionate when she breathed out, “What is it?”

“I wouldn’t be able to see you every day. I would miss you terribly.”

Yugo surprised even himself with the sincerity of that statement, for he realised he meant each and every word he said. He had grown so accustomed to Amalia being a fixed feature in his life, that the mere idea of not seeing her every day filled him with dread and a strong sense of longing. In fact, while the doll stared back at him—her doe-like eyes glimmering and her round cheeks flushed with colour—, the unbearable urge to reach out and close the distance between them threatened to consume him. 

He was about to take her hands when Bartoloblé’s jovial voice broke them out of their stupor. Whatever fragile yet tangible moment between them was now lost. 

“King Yugo, Lady Amalia!” He greeted them, making his way over to them even as he carried a basket full of freshly baked bread under one arm. “It is always a pleasure to see you! But, what brings you here today? Another meeting with the other Council members?” 

He used his free hand to jab his thumb in the direction of the Eliatrope temple. Now that Amalia was paying attention, she finally realised they had reached their destination, they just needed to climb up the stairs leading to the main square. 

“Gotta warn you, though. Pretty sure the only members around are Mina and Phaeris, and they seemed to be locked into a pretty intense prayer last time I checked.”

Yugo raised a hand with a smile while the doll nodded by his side. “That’s perfectly fine, Bartoloblé. Thanks anyway. I was just about to show Amalia around, there’s this place I’ve been meaning to take her to.” 

The baker perked up, his own grin growing. “Oh, I see!” He rummaged through his basket before picking up a loaf of bread he extended to his king and their divine guest. “Would you like to take some for the road?” His expression deflated slightly when his leader just shook his head instead. 

“That’s quite alright, old friend. There’s plenty of food where we’re going.”

Although it took him a moment, the Eliatrope baker recovered fast, the smile back on his face. After putting the baked goods back in his basket, he tilted his chef hat in their direction before going his way. “Well, in that case, I’ll let you be. I still gotta deliver these,” he pointed at the basket, “to my customers. Until next time!”

As Bartoloblé climbed up the stairs and began his tour around town to deliver his customers’ orders, after waving him goodbye, Yugo and Amalia resumed their own walk. The Eliatrope King’s words replaying in her mind, her brow furrowed in interest, the Sadida Doll couldn’t help but ask, “Yugo?”

He hummed in response. 

“Where exactly are we going?”

He chuckled. “I told you, we’re leaving Oma Island for a bit.” 

“Yes, I know that. But I mean, where are we going if it’s not on Oma Island? Isn’t it dangerous to leave the island while the Twelvians still haven’t fully accepted you? And, most importantly, how are we even going to leave the island? As far as I’m concerned, we don’t have recall potions…”

Even as she spat her rapid-fire questions, the two of them never stopped walking, absentmindedly, though not any less kindly, greeting the villagers as they remarked on their king and the doll’s presence. As Yugo enthusiastically returned a kid’s wave, he glanced down at Amalia from the corner of his eye in amusement. Unable to contain himself, he chuckled, “You know, those are an awful lot of questions… I don’t think I’ll be able to remember them all.”

“Yugo!” Amalia chided, her hands on her hips and a ridiculously cute pout on her lips. “Come on, I’m serious!”

“I know, Amalia. I’m sorry, I just couldn’t resist.” He admitted, his palms up in surrender. “I’d really wish I could tell you where we’re going…”

“But…?” Amalia deadpanned, her arms crossed as she arched an expectant eyebrow at him. There was always a ‘but.’

“But I really want it to be a surprise.” He said at last, and his earnest response alongside the ridiculously cute sheepish smile he was giving her was enough to melt away her resolve to be more firm with him and not give in until she had her answers. 

As much as Amalia wanted to throw a hissy fit and demand the truth, she was powerless to stop the flutter in her chest at the king’s heartfelt attempts at doing something nice for her. She was always enveloped by this warm, wonderful feeling whenever Yugo showed how much he cared for her. 

She really couldn’t have asked for a better friend. 

Still, she couldn’t just let him see how genuinely touched she was by his thoughtfulness so, putting on her best haughty act, she harrumphed and made the enormous effort of looking away from him. “Can you at least tell me how we’re going to make it to this mysterious place of yours?”

Even without looking at him, she could sense his nonchalant shrug. “The way all Eliatropes go anywhere, I suppose.”

Immediately, her eyes snapped open in alarm. Her brown eyes blazing and an accusatory finger aimed straight at him, she whirled around so fast towards him, Yugo had no choice but to recoil in surprise. “Oh, Shukrute no! I already had to psych myself up to go through two of your portals today, I’m not going through any more!”

It was her turn to feel disarmed when he just smiled innocently back at her, despite finding himself, quite literally, in the face of her righteous fury. “Hey, hey. It’s okay, Amalia. I’m not making you go through another one of my portals today until it’s time to go home, I promise.”

She blinked back at him, her scowl softening into confusion. “Then… what do you mean when you say we’ll be travelling the way all Eliatropes do?”

Instead of answering, the dirty-blond boy just let an amused yet fond grin overtake his features, and used one hand enveloped in dark cloth to point upwards while the other took Amalia’s hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze. Puzzlement still evident in her features, the doll chose to, once again, trust her friend, and limited herself to following the direction his finger was pointing at, even when it meant she had to crane her neck to get a better look. 

When her eyes settled on what Yugo had been pointing at and realisation washed all over her, the Divine Doll couldn’t help but gasp in surprise, her mouth agape. 

“The portals…” She murmured, her voice tinged with awe. 

That simple gesture had confirmed her suspicions from back when she first visited the village. Floating high above her were the oval-shaped, mirror-like artefacts she believed to be portals, and Yugo had just proven her right. Unlike an Eliatrope’s own portals, however, these didn’t seem to be made out of wakfu, something that would disappear if its wielder didn’t concentrate hard enough, but they appeared to be a fixed feature of the town. Even at a distance, Amalia could make out the different landscapes shown on the other side of them, beckoning their patrons to visit a whole new world. 

Even now, they seemed to be buzzing with activity, if the never-ending blue streaks zipping through one portal to the next was any indication. Still, even though that answered several of her questions, it posed many others. 

Luckily for her, Yugo seemed to have developed the uncanny ability to read her mind. So he wasted no time in providing an explanation to her unspoken questions. 

“Those,” he started, pointing at the gates above, “are our Zaap Portals. Chibi and Grougal actually came up with the idea long ago.”

“But… you’re Eliatropes.” Amalia pointed out, finally looking at him. Though her forest green eyebrows were still knitted in confusion. “Your most basic ability is creating portals. Why would you need them?”

“Everybody has limits, Amalia.” He told her gently. “After all, you can’t grow your plants if there’s no workable ground, right?”

The doll thought to herself she could grow plants out of stone if there was enough wakfu to channel, but Yugo had a point. If she didn’t detect life going on around her, then her attempts at using her magic would be futile. So she just nodded along. 

The king gestured back at the portals. “Well, this is our limit. The more powerful and experienced an Eliatrope is, the further their portals will take them. But there are distances that just can’t be covered. So, in order to save us the trouble of having to create long strings of portals to reach certain places, Chibi and Grougal found a way to replicate our magic and expand its range until it became some sort of teleporting gate.

“It’s our main use of transportation for travelling long-distance. Although it’s true certain characteristics in its design mean there are limitations.”

“Limitations?” Amalia tilted her head. “Like what?”

“You see, unlike our portals, which can take us wherever as long as it’s not too far away, Zaap Portals have… How do I say this?” He mumbled to himself, bringing his hand to cup his chin as he considered his words. He snapped his fingers as the perfect way to explain it came to mind. “Let’s just say it’s a bit like a trade-off.”

“A trade-off?” The doll couldn't help but feel she was only repeating what Yugo said. 

He nodded enthusiastically, the ears of his hat moving along with his head. “Precisely.”

“What do you trade?”

“In this case, in exchange for the portal being always functional, it loses its range. Sure, it can take us further away than our own magic, but the places it leads to are fewer.”

“So, you’re saying the Zaap Portal might be able to take you to Bonta, for example…” Amalia started, rubbing her temple as she tried to make sense of it all. 

“For example, yes.”

“But, it might lead you only to Bonta. Unlike your magic, which can take you practically anywhere as long as it’s not too far. Is that it? Did I get it right?”

“That is precisely it, Amalia.”

“So, how far exactly are we going, if we have to use the Zaap?” She asked, her head tilting up to stare up at the portal again. 

“Pretty far.”

The doll deadpanned, flashing her friend an unimpressed look. She was getting really tired of his whole enigmatic, mysterious schtick. Would it kill him to give her a straight answer? Sweet Sadida, he was a demigod! Being a bit more straight-forward couldn’t possibly hurt. 

Even though she already knew what he’d say, she still ventured, her arms crossed in annoyance. “Is that all you’re going to do all day? Give me clipped answers?” Groaning exasperatedly, she couldn’t deny the sudden urge to wring his pretty little neck when he said:

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Yugo!” She screeched, her face flushed from anger. With her hands balled at her hips, the Divine Doll had half a mind not to summon a small tendril to flick him on the forehead. Her pout deepened when all he did was laugh, loud and unrestrained, and place his hands on her shoulders to calm her down. 

Much to her chagrin, all her previous anger melted away the second he grabbed her chin with his thumb and forefinger and gently guided her face upwards to meet his gaze. The smile he flashed her was almost blinding. 

And here she thought the two things one should never look directly at were the sun and Sadida… Somebody should add the Eliatrope King’s smile to the list. Really, for safety purposes. 

“I’m sorry, Amalia.” He said, his voice a soft murmur that nonetheless resonated from his chest. The doll wondered idly if she would be able to feel the tremors through her fingertips if she were to place her hands on his chest. “I promise, I’ll answer all your questions once we’ve arrived. I just really want to surprise you.”

Later that day, the young Sadida would reminisce on her actions and wonder what in the world possessed her to utter the words that left her mouth:

“Well, we’ll never get to that if we don’t make it through the portal first, right?” Then, a rare moment of clarity allowed her to momentarily break away from the pair of eyes staring intently at her, and to focus back on their way of transportation long enough to ask, “How are we going to get there, though? Should I summon a vine to lift us up?”

Just as the words left her mouth, a small gasp followed, caused by the sudden warmth of Yugo snaking his arms around her waist once more and pulling her close, their bodies flush against each other. The king’s answer was barely above a whisper. “I think I have an idea.”

Before Amalia could so much as drunkenly question what he meant, she was startled by the unexpected breach in her connection to nature. Looking down in alarm, her brown orbs widened like saucers when she finally realised her feet were no longer touching the ground, and neither were Yugo’s, as a matter of fact. 

But even more surprising was watching the ground grow further and further away from them, the startling realisation that they were floating shocking Amalia to her core. She whirled her head to stare back at the king questioningly, her mouth agape, but he just shrugged and offered her a roguishly charming smile that caused warmth to erupt all over her face and chest. 

Not helped at all by the wink he sent her. 

“I might have a few tricks up my sleeve still, My Lady.”

“And I’m guessing one of them is flying?” She was genuinely surprised by her own coherence, given the circumstances. She had honestly forgotten he could do it. 

His charming smile turned the slightest bit smug. “Maybe.”

“But… how?”

“Ah, that…” Yugo’s expression faltered, looking unsure for the first time all day. “Well, a magician can’t go revealing his secrets just like that, can he?”

The doll’s mesmerised expression morphed into confusion, her eyes squinting in disbelief as if that would help her discern the meaning behind Yugo’s words. Judging by the way he reacted, there was something he wasn’t telling her, but what?

Before her mind could linger on the topic, though, the king distracted her when his expression lit up as he took notice of something. He took one of Amalia’s hands in his and held it tightly while the other remained on her waist, though not without pulling her closer to him—if that was even possible. 

“Ah, looks like we’ve arrived, Amalia. Are you ready?”

Just as he asked, Amalia turned her head to the direction he was looking at, and came to realise they were now floating with a portal right beside them. From what she could see reflected on its pristine surface, there was quite the lush forest on the other side. That immediately sent a pleasant thrill down her spine, the idea of being closer to nature bringing a certain twinkle to her eyes. 

She almost dreaded to ask, “...am I going to throw up again?”

“I thought you only dry-heaved now?” Yugo couldn’t help but tease her. His chuckles soon turned sheepish when the petite wild beauty in his arms glowered at him, clearly unamused. He coughed awkwardly. “Right. Sorry. Um… I can’t say for certain? I mean, we Eliatropes certainly don’t have any trouble but…”

“But you don’t have trouble going through your portals in the first place.” Amalia finished for him. She let out a heavy sigh, resigned. “Come on, let’s get this over with. There’s a whole new bunch of innocent bushes I have yet to traumatise by puking all over them.”

“I’ll be right there beside you to help you write the apology notes.” He whispered jokingly, and this time he did manage to make her laugh. 

Great Goddess above, her giggling was like hearing bells chiming in the wind. The things he wouldn’t do just to hear her laugh… If she noticed the way he held her closer to him even when it wasn’t necessary, she didn’t show. Instead, right as the Eliatrope warned her they were about to go through the portal, she closed her eyes shut in anticipation and hugged him tighter herself. Yugo’s eyes widened slightly and his heartbeat quickened considerably at the sensation of Amalia flush against him, their bodies moulding into each other seamlessly and her forest green ponytail tickling his nose. He had to force himself not to get carried away and inhale her natural scent—flowers in bloom and sunshine peeking through the forest treetops. 

And so, a shiver running down his spine as she squeezed him just a little tighter while she mentally prepared herself, Yugo took that last metaphorical step into the portal with Amalia in his arms.

......................................................................................................................

“Amalia, you can look now. We’re here.” Yugo’s soft murmur against the crown of her head broke her out of her trance. 

Eyes snapping open, she pulled away from his embrace and looked around. Sure enough, they were in the middle of a forest. The presence of aspens, birches and wild flowers emanated a completely different aura from the tropical plants back at Oma. She would have immediately begun to take it all in, to let nature wash over her and reveal its secrets to her, if it weren’t for the fact that she was far too busy being flabbergasted. 

“I… I don’t feel sick!” She exclaimed, incredulous, looking down at her hands with the same level of urgency as if they were covered in blood. Even more shocking was realising she was standing proud and tall instead of on wobbly feet or, even worse, tumbling down onto the ground to quite literally spill her guts. She wasn’t nauseous at all!

“Huh. It looks like you only have trouble going through one of our portals.” Yugo observed, intrigued. He placed one bandaged hand on his chin, pensively. “I wonder why that is…”

“Personally, I only really care about the fact that my food is still inside my stomach, thank you very much.” The doll quipped sarcastically.

Eyes darting all over the space, she finally allowed herself to plant her feet firmly on the ground and let her connection to nature do the talking. She smiled. The plant-life here seemed to be thriving and in perfect health. 

Once she had familiarised herself with the area and its vegetation, she asked, her back to Yugo. “So, what’s the plan? Where are we?”

No sooner had the words left her mouth, the grin was back on Yugo’s face. He took her by the hand and gently spun her around until she was facing the opposite direction, where she could discern what looked like a clearing from behind the Eliatrope’s figure. Raising herself to her tiptoes in curiosity, she peeked over his shoulder, her interest piqued by what appeared to be a small village located down the hill. 

“This,” the king spread his arms wide, letting go of hers, and gestured around them, “is the Forbidden Forest. And that,” he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of the village, “is our destination for today, Emelka.”

Rather than say anything, the Divine Doll just let her eyes dart around the space, and Yugo watched as she walked around, her hand outstretched as she traced gentle lines along the tree trunks while she walked. For a moment, the king just allowed himself to take her in. The curious tilt of her head as nearby tofus sang from their nests or even flew around. The way her fingers and toes curled and uncurled in pleasure at the feeling of the different kinds of soil and bark beneath her feet and fingertips. The breeze weaving through her silky hair, making her emerald locks blend in with the greenery of the forest. The supremely serene smile that stretched over her lips at the new sensations raking her body… It was simply breathtaking. 

She was breathtaking. 

Right as the Eliatrope came back to his senses and was about to self-combust over the direction his thoughts had taken, the doll called out to him, causing him to muster every ounce of power he possessed not to make the way he almost jumped out of his skin too obvious. 

“As much as I love being surrounded by nature,” she started tentatively but sincerely, sending her friend a knowing look. “I can’t help but feel uneasy over being in a place known as the ‘Forbidden Forest’.” She made sure to emphasise the words to get her point across. “Even the plants tell me to be careful, as there are dangers lurking around every corner…”

“Yeah, the locals say the wildlife here is unpredictable.” Yugo admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “But don’t worry, Amalia. We’re not going to stay here for long.”

“You said we’re going to Emelka, right?” When he nodded, she continued. “Then why not arrive there in the first place? Or is it a matter or range, as you told me earlier?”

“That does play a part in it, yes.” He began to march in the direction of the entrance to Emelka, Amalia right by his side every step of the way, her focus set intently on him. His eyes trailing upwards, he noticed the dark clouds hovering over them. It looked like it was going to rain. “But it’s also because it gives us some coverage and helps us go by unnoticed until we reach the village.”

The Sadida Doll frowned in confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

He shrugged, but Amalia knew him well enough by now to be able to tell the action was forced, resigned. Not at all like the earnest optimism and nonchalance so characteristic of Yugo as long as his family and people’s safety wasn’t compromised. So she wasn’t surprised by what he said next, but that didn’t mean her heart didn’t break for him. “You know Twelvians aren’t exactly thrilled to have us around, Amalia.”

The way he said it, so casually, without even a hint of sadness or even anger in his voice, it was like he was just stating an undeniable fact of life. And, much to her chagrin, right now he was right. She wanted to comfort him so badly, to say the right words to get him to smile and face everything with the positive attitude that never failed to lift her spirits up when she was down. But she found herself drawing a blank. 

Still, she had to try. For Yugo. 

Yugo was startled out of his thoughts by a warm hand being placed on his shoulder. Looking up in surprise, he turned his face to find Amalia giving him a small, tentative smile, her brown eyes shining with empathy. Cursing himself for letting his own insecurities get to the better of him and making her sad, he rushed to plaster a smile on his face to put her at ease. 

“It’s okay, though. There’s a reason why we’re coming to Emelka in the first place.”

That reminded Amalia of something he said before. “Is that why you know what the locals have to say about the forest, because you have talked to them? Yugo, have you been to Emelka before?”

She gasped when he just hummed softly and nodded in response, “But—! When? How?!” She stammered, trying to wrap her head around the notion. “I thought you guys never left Oma Island!”

“We haven’t left Oma Island in a while.” The king corrected matter-of-factly, one finger raised in her direction. “When we just arrived here, we actually did quite a bit of exploring as we searched for the perfect place to settle down, especially Ad and I.” Then, he shrugged, this time, more genuinely. “And, let’s face it, even when we started settling on Oma, there’s no way Ad and I would be able to resist the urge to go out and explore.”

“Wait, so Adamaï has been to Emelka, too?”

“Uh-huh. And that’s also the reason why I’m telling you we need to keep a low profile. Emelka might be more accepting of us, but seeing the Eliatrope King and his dragon twin out and about was still a major shock even for them.”

“Is that why you’re dressed like that today?” Amalia finally found the courage to ask, staring up at her friend up and down. …and feeling her cheeks grow hot the more she lingered in certain places. 

As her eyes coursed over the king’s appearance, the doll’s mind briefly flashed back to her startled reaction when he came to pick her up earlier that day, and her cheeks coloured in embarrassment over her poorly concealed surprise. It wasn’t like Yugo looked bad—quite the contrary, really—, it was just that she was so used to seeing him in his battle suit and cloak ensemble that seeing him wear anything else was a tad jarring. 

After all, the last time Yugo changed clothes was when he dressed up for the banquet at Bonta. At least then there was a reason for his sudden change in wardrobe, even if seeing him looking so sharp and elegant wasn’t any good to her poor Ogrine heart. Even now, although his outfit was far less glamorous, it still caused her heart to do somersaults in her ribcage.

Indeed, instead of his usual attire, Yugo was wearing far simpler clothing. She briefly wondered if perhaps he had taken a page out of her book and come up with his own adventuring outfit. He wore a simple, sleeveless amber shirt that clung to his sculpted physique, highlighting every chiselled line of his torso and forcing Amalia to reluctantly tear her gaze away so as to not look like a creep. Contrasting the form-fitting shirt were a pair of dark cyan pantaloons, their overall shape much more loose and less restrictive in their movements than the shirt clinging to his skin. Covering his arms, going from his knuckles up to his shoulders, and bare feet were a series of black bandages that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Xelor’s wardrobe. 

At first, Amalia had been taken aback and confused by their presence, until Yugo chuckled fondly at her stunned reaction and leaned in slightly to whisper in her ear, “My tattoos.”

Her mouth formed an ‘o’ shape at the reminder, her mind going back to the many swirls going up and down his arms and how eye-catching they would be. Thinking back now that she knew Yugo wanted to keep a low profile, it made perfect sense he would cover them up. Mesmerising as they were—not helped by the way in which they accentuated the curves of his every muscle—, those things stood out like a sore thumb. Not even an Iop would buy that he was a Sacrier and those were his tattoos. 

Then again, one might think bandaging them up was overkill, seeing as his body remained perfectly concealed most of the time by the large poncho reaching past his knees that matched in colour with his pants. Completing the ensemble was Yugo’s own version of the cute hats that seemed to be customary amongst his people. Unlike his cloak, which only had those pointy ‘ears’, the hat was closer to being an amalgamation between Qilby and Glip’s. It wasn’t as long as the eldest Eliatrope’s, but it at least possessed a large tail ending in a tuft of whitish fur and the stumps on top of it looked more like ears, rather than horns. 

Despite the drastic change in wardrobe, most of the time Amalia couldn’t help but feel like it showed even less of the king than his full-bodied suit. At least now she got to see the back of his head, she supposed. 

His cheeks growing hot under the doll’s extensive scrutiny, Yugo looked to the side, nervously scratching his cheek with one finger. “Yeah, that’s right. I found wearing more casual clothing makes it easier to blend in.”

Before Amalia could so much as get a word in, she was taken by surprise when a sense of sudden realisation seemed to dawn over the Eliatrope. Just as she was about to ask about it, he held up a finger to her, asking her for patience, and slid his poncho open, revealing a sizable pocket sewn into the fabric. 

“Here, I thought it’d be better for you to slip into it.”

Amalia’s jaw dropped. Quickly looking up and down her entire length, she mumbled. “Thanks for the compliment, but I don’t think I fit in there.”

The Eliatrope looked at her strangely for a moment before the meaning behind her words seemed to click in, his mouth contorting into an ‘o’ shape. He shook his head with a chuckle. 

“No, no. Sorry. That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“I was about to tell you.” He flashed her a pointed yet friendly look that made her roll her eyes. “I was actually thinking that you could shapeshift into your doll form and get inside the pocket. That way, we wouldn’t risk people seeing you and recognising you as the new Divine Doll.”

“But… Isn’t that a little unnecessary?” Amalia countered, tilting her head to the side. Then, she gestured to the length of her, and Yugo felt like smacking himself when his eyes lingered on her form just a little too long. “I mean, look at me! Unlike my sisters, I’m actually indistinguishable from a regular Sadida woman. Now that I think about it, wasn’t that the reason we met Master Joris at all? Because a bunch of Cra saw me and thought you had a Sadida with you?”

The dirty-blond man’s brow furrowed in confusion at the mention of her sisters, but he let it go with a shake of his head. Now wasn’t the time for that. “Well, that’s true. But people are going to grow suspicious if they see me with a Sadida, of all people. That’s why I think it’s better you hide, at least until we reach our destination.”

“But why? If we go together like this, they have no reason to think we’re anything but a Sadida and a non-believer.” The doll pressed on, incapable of making sense out of Yugo’s hesitance. “In fact, I’d say it’s much easier to tell you’re an Eliatrope with that hat on. If you just took it off—.”

As she talked, the Divine Doll reached out to push back the hat in question and take it off of Yugo’s head. Only for her outstretched hand to halt in mid-air when Yugo gripped at it tightly, his fingers sinking into her skin to the point she could feel his nails even through her wristbands. With a startled gasp, she looked at him in question, only for the brown of her irises to contract in fright at the sight of his own manic look. 

He looked frazzled and alarmed, his brow pinched in a fierce expression, to the point one would think Amalia had just attacked him instead of simply reaching out for his hat. The fire in his eyes was so intense, the doll couldn’t help the frightened shiver from running down her spine. Over the months, she believed she had become quite familiar with all the expressions the king was capable of pulling. The incredulous raised eyebrow and subsequent exasperated roll of his eyes at his siblings’ antics. The steely glint in his brown eyes whenever he was in the middle of his kingly duties or some kind of crisis arose. The subtle but friendly upwards curl of his lips whenever he interacted with his youngest subjects. The knowing looks he and Adamaï would exchange, belying their closeness. And the immensely fond look and incredibly soft smile he had plastered on his face whenever he interacted with her. 

That look was so intense, Amalia always found herself helpless against the warm feeling that would spread all over her body, starting from her chest and consuming her completely. Its warmth always spread like a wildfire, and she was nothing but kindling. 

The look he now had on his face was nothing like that. Where once was fire, now it was as if an ice cold shard had pierced her heart, freezing her to her core. 

His self-preservation instincts overtaking him, Yugo didn’t even register catching Amalia’s arm and gripping it tightly, his mind going on overdrive as it focused on just keeping her away from his hat. Despite the minimal exertion, he still found himself panting slightly, the reaction all but programmed into his brain. When he finally came to his senses, blinking a few times to regain his bearings, he was puzzled to find himself clutching a wrist tightly, only for horror and shame to settle in when his eyes travelled down the length of the arm and came face-to-face with Amalia. 

Those beautiful, doe-like orbs of hers held the same amount of fear and shock as a deer being haunted by a Cra. Pupils wide and frantic as it remained paralysed, subconsciously embracing its upcoming demise as it watched the arrow approach, sealing its fate. His heart throbbed as he realised he had caused that reaction. He was the one who put the fear in her eyes, even if he would never mean to. 

Guilt holding his heart in a vice grip, its thorns piercing through it, Yugo let go of her arm as fast as if it burned, muttering and tripping over himself as he tried to apologise. The painful pangs only resonated louder, like bells in a belltower, when all Amalia did in response was tentatively bring her forearm closer to her, placing it against her chest as her other hand soothingly caressed her sore wrist. The image reminded Yugo of Harebourg digging his digits so deep into her skin it bruised, and he immediately hated himself for repeating the Count’s mistakes. 

“It…It’s okay.” She murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“Amalia…” Yugo called out to her, opening his mouth to say something, anything, but his words died in his throat when she glanced back at him with those big, sad eyes of hers. Inhaling sharply, he brought a hand to the back of his head to rub his neck in discomfort, trying to find the words. Eventually, he let out a heavy sigh.

“Amalia, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t scare me…” She tried to say, but it didn’t sound convincing even to her ears. She winced, biting down on her bottom lip. “Okay, maybe a little.”

“I know, and I am so, so sorry about that.” Yugo insisted, taking a step closer to her. He had to suppress a relieved sigh from escaping his lips when she didn’t flinch away from the action. “It’s just…” Much to his chagrin, his mouth clamped shut yet again; he had trouble finding the right words to explain things to her without having to explain too much. 

Amalia just waited for him to elaborate, cradling her arm to her chest, her interest piqued. She blinked down in surprise when, instead of answering, the Eliatrope just extended his own hand out to her, his palm facing upwards. She looked back at him, perplexed, but she finally understood everything when he simply beckoned her with his fingers. 

She placed her hand into his. Despite everything, just the gentle touch of Yugo softly caressing her wrist was enough for all the previous tension to melt away. 

She was so busy trying not to melt as well she almost didn’t hear him when he continued, “I really am sorry for startling and hurting you like that, Amalia. That was uncalled for.” He started, and just when the doll was about to say something in return, he stopped her by raising his free hand. “But, you see, even though you are right my hat doesn’t really do a good job at hiding the fact that I’m an Eliatrope, taking it off wouldn’t really help either.”

The Divine Doll took a step forward, closing the distance between them just a little more. “How come? You guys must look indistinguishable from your usual non-believer without them!”

The Eliatrope King tilted his head from one side to the other in a so-so motion, a small grimace on his lips. “Yes and no. Never mind that, though.” He looked her deep in the eye, making sure he had her full attention. “Amalia, the reason I reacted to you reaching out for my hat like I did is because my people have a very good reason for wearing them. Taking them off in front of somebody else is a sign of deep intimacy, so we don’t feel comfortable being hatless just about everywhere. 

“In fact, people we aren’t very close to reaching out for our hats without our consent is seen as very disrespectful in our culture. That’s why I reacted the way I did when you tried to do the same. But you’re not an Eliatrope, and it isn’t like this is common knowledge in the World of Twelve, either. You couldn’t have possibly known. So, again, I’m sorry for reacting the way I have.”

Trying her best to ignore the painful pang in her chest at the implication that she wasn’t as close to Yugo as she had originally thought, the doll forced a small smile to curl at her lips. “No, Yugo; it’s me who should be apologising. Even if I didn’t know about the significance behind it, it was still rude of me to get so close into your personal space and try to push your hat back without asking you first. So, for all it’s worth, I’m sorry, too.”

The king grinned down at her, his heart swelling. “Apology accepted.” He took both of her hands in his and brought them closer to him. “Speaking of asking first… What do you say? Would you be okay with turning into your doll form and staying in my pocket?”

Amalia still looked unsure. “You said it’d only be until we reach our destination, right?”

“That’s right.” He nodded enthusiastically. “It’s not even that long a trek. A thirty minute walk tops.”

Despite her reservations, Amalia eventually gave in with a sigh. She’d be lying if she said her decision wasn’t at all influenced by Yugo’s irresistible Bow Wow eyes. Then again, she supposed it could be worse; even though she hadn’t really been in her doll form for long periods of time since arriving at the World of Twelve, it still felt as natural to her as her current, human form. And so, with a nod and a small smile directed at the Eliatrope, she disappeared behind the familiar puff of smoke. 

Yugo waited patiently for the smoke to clear, and when it finally did he couldn’t wipe the happy grin off his face at the sight of the small brown ragdoll at his feet looking expectantly up at him. He couldn’t believe there was a time he had ever been underwhelmed by the sight; Amalia was just so precious, with her big brown eyes, plump little green lips, and the tussled tuft of emerald hair on her head. The more he stared at her, the more he felt a tingle going down his spine. 

“Can you at least open your poncho a little so I can get a glimpse of the scenery as we make our way through the village?” Amalia pleaded, and if Yugo already had a hard time denying her anything, now that she was literally an adorable little doll it was practically impossible. 

“Of course.” His hands cupped in front of him, he bent down to scoop Amalia up and bring her to his eye-level as he stood back up. “What’s the point in exploring if you don’t get to see anything, am I right?” He winked at her, and he counted the way she giggled at the action and admittedly lame joke as a win. 

“Now you’re getting it.” She teased right back. 

Sharing one last laugh, Yugo carefully cradled Amalia’s tiny form with one hand while he used the other to open his poncho just enough to be able to put her in his pocket. Once she was close enough, Amalia gathered up her momentum and threw herself headfirst into the pocket, rolling around inside the folded fabric until she managed to straighten herself up enough to remain upright. As she burrowed herself deeper into the pocket, which was far cosier than she had anticipated, she busied herself with her bottom lip, mulling over whether she should ask Yugo the question in her mind or not. 

Eventually, seeing as he didn’t just have the guts to ask her to get inside his pocket but actually got away with it, she decided to just go for it. Right after assuring him she was perfectly comfortable where she was, she looked up to him, her eyes glimmering hopefully. 

“Yugo?”

“Yes, Amalia?”

“Do… Do you think you could show me what’s underneath your hat? You know, one day. When you feel comfortable with it, of course…”

Her heart, which had been beating frantically out of nervousness over possibly overstepping his boundaries again, began to thud for a completely different reason when his bewildered expression melted into one of his blinding smiles. The softness she associated with their interactions returning to his features. 

“I will, Amalia. I promise.”

..........................................................................................................................

From what she could see from inside Yugo’s poncho, Emelka seemed to be a lovely place. Unlike the bustling city of Bonta, with massive buildings and endless streets stretching over the vast space until its very outskirts, the air was calm in Emelka. The streets were wide, to the point she wondered if the small town wasn’t just composed of several buildings sprawled all over the place and the resulting paths gave the illusion of there being streets. Said buildings, while far from being rundown shacks, were quite modest still; simple stone two-story houses protected by a thick layer of hay on their roofs.

The locals were unhurried and placid. Basket-carrying ladies, presumably returning from the market, stopped by their neighbours’ windowsill to partake in some healthy gossip, giggling all the while. Children ran around as they played pretend, picturing themselves as brave little adventurers off on some grand, perilous journey. Merchants, artisans, and business-owners alike welcomed potential customers into their establishments with jovial smiles, loudly announcing their offers. 

The more she looked around, the more Amalia understood why Yugo liked this place so much. Although it was true they hadn’t really visited many other nations aside from Oma Island and Bonta, the streets of Emelka were far more similar to the Eliatrope village than the hectic Divine City. Just some normal people going about their day as per usual, without worrying about the intricacies of international diplomacy. 

From time to time, she also got a glimpse of how people reacted to the Eliatrope King’s presence. While it was true most of them ignored him for the most part and went on with their days, others did a terrible job at subtly glaring or regarding him with a suspicious glint in their eyes. That was, if they were trying to be subtle at all. For his part, the king remained the epitome of courtesy and cordiality, kindly greeting everyone that so much as crossed his path or locked eyes with him, however brief the exchange was. 

Whenever Amalia noticed a particularly intense stare directed at her friend, she couldn’t help but burrow herself deeper into his pocket, hiding herself from view even though her position already meant she was well concealed. She kept wondering if Yugo really held his traditions so close to his heart he couldn’t see the benefits of taking his hat off. 

Right as her mind began to trail down that particular train of thought, the doll caught herself and shook her head vehemently to rid herself of it. What was she thinking? Even if she didn’t share the Eliatropes’ beliefs or didn’t always understand them, she owed them that she at least respected them. After all, they had always been very understanding and accommodating of her Sadida nature, her room and garden alone were proof enough of that. 

If Yugo said taking his hat off was a big deal, then it was a big deal. 

Now that she thought about it, Yugo didn’t outright deny nor confirm whether his people actually looked indiscernible from Twelvian non-believers. Maybe there was a reason why they didn’t take their hats and hoods off, after all…

“We’re almost here, Amalia.” Yugo’s whisper broke her out of her stupor, making her shake her head to regain her focus. 

Just as Yugo subtly opened his cloak just enough to allow her to get a better view of their destination, the Divine Doll whirled around in his pocket to discreetly glance over at the place he had been so intent on taking her to. Her eyes widening at the sight. 

They were headed straight towards a particularly large white-stone building, with sturdy wooden brackets supporting the blue-tiled roof. It had nothing on the Eliatrope palace or even Sadida’s hut back in his dimension, but it was definitely bigger than most other houses in Emelka. While it was two-stories high as well, this particular building stood out in many other ways. For example, rather than follow the standard design that seemed prevalent in the area, it had several smaller warehouses attached to the main building, though what really caught her eye was the three-story tower on the far right side of it. Even more bewildering was the large bamboo milk jar affixed to the tower; which was just as well, the doll supposed—at least, now she knew they were headed to an eatery of some kind. Right beside the entrance were some stairs leading to what she could only assume was some kind of balcony, although judging by the lack of customers there, she had the feeling that it was a space reserved for the owner and their family. A suspicion that was only strengthened by the presence of a bent tree on the left from where the laundry was hung, swaying in the breeze. 

“So this is where you wanted to take me?” Amalia whispered back at Yugo, failing to see what could be so special about this place. 

“That’s right. Welcome to the Crispy Gobball Inn, Amalia. Where they serve the best Gobball stew in all of Emelka.” 

“But why did you want to bring me here? Just to eat?” 

Yugo chuckled, amused. “You’ll see.”

Before the doll could question him further, the Eliatrope had made it to the door. He reached out for the handle and let themselves in. Yugo had hidden Amalia from view once more, so she couldn’t really make out how the place looked on the inside, but she could still hear everything going on around her even through the thick fabric. From the sound of things, the inn’s patrons were a rowdy bunch. Animated conversations, loud cackles, and the clinking of utensils as they moved around their plates filled the room. 

And then, something strange happened. 

Amalia couldn’t see and, therefore, didn’t understand what was going on, but little by little, everyone quieted down, and the absence of the sound of metal against china indicated they had stopped eating, too. If she were being honest with herself, it was a little unnerving. And even that was nothing compared to the worry she felt when she sensed Yugo tensing up next to her, his muscles clenching in discomfort, even though she had a feeling he was doing his best to maintain an unaffected expression. 

And then it dawned on her. 

The atmosphere had changed because of him. Regardless of what Yugo said, the people in Emelka were just as wary of the Eliatropes as the rest of the Twelvians. Then, why did he insist they’d be much safer here?

The Divine Doll was broken out of her reverie by the feeling of Yugo relaxing, his chest going up and down in clear relief as the breath he had been holding brushed past his lips. She furrowed her brow, wondering just what in the World of Twelve could have provoked such a drastic change in him, when she perked up at the sound of a deep, caring voice resonating around the room:

“By Enutrof! What’s got y’all so quiet all of a sudden? Just a moment ago, I couldn’t even hear myself think!”

Then, the Enutrof man—because that voice definitely belonged to a man and only an Enutrof would swear by the Flamboyant Golden Dragon’s name—, grew silent as well. Amalia still couldn't see what was happening, but it didn’t take her long to realise he must have definitely noticed Yugo because the Eliatrope warmly greeted him, “Hello, Alibert. Is it a bad time?”

Amalia didn’t have time to register what was happening or even question it, for she suddenly found herself squeezed against Yugo’s chest, flush against his form. And though she certainly wouldn’t mind under different circumstances, she had to admit with a blush, she found it was hard to enjoy the closeness when she was being crushed to death, unable to breathe properly. She pawed desperately at the king’s pectorals, begging him to do something. 

“‘Is it a bad time’, you say.” Alibert repeated rhetorically, engulfing Yugo into a tight embrace, blissfully unaware of the pain he was unwittingly inflicting upon the rag doll in his pocket. “You know it’s never a bad time for one of your visits, my boy! If anything, I’d say it’s been too long since you last showed your face around here!”

“Sorry… about that. I’ve been… kinda busy…lately.” Yugo wheezed out, his voice strained. It still amazed him just how strong old Alibert could be, especially considering that, by his own admission, he wasn’t the most devout Enutrof around, so his magic wasn’t as powerful. Seriously, Yugo was quite the seasoned warrior and yet his spine didn’t just threaten to snap in half under the pressure inflicted by the kindly chef’s arms, but his feet weren’t even touching the floor! 

Just then, he felt the rustling of rough fabric against his shirt and a small jolt coursed through his body.

Amalia.

Not without some effort, the Eliatrope released one of his arms from Alibert’s hold and, always careful not to reveal the doll’s location within his poncho, lightly tapped the man on the shoulder to get his attention. Once his eyes were on him, he said:

“Alibert… Please…” He managed with some difficulty. “Put me… down. I’m carrying… some precious cargo… with me… today.”

Despite the confused, bushy eyebrow he raised the boy’s way at his words, Alibert obliged him. Loosening his hold on Yugo, he set him firmly on the floor and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Sorry about that, my boy. I got carried away in my excitement, that’s all.” Sending a sideways glance towards the other Enutrof sitting at the bar and pointedly pretending he hadn't just been eavesdropping on their conversation, he lowered his voice and leaned in closer. “So, what’s this ‘precious cargo’ you were talking about?”

Yugo just shook his head, mouthing a silent ‘Let’s talk in private’ at him. 

Eyes lighting up in understanding, Alibert nodded and silently gestured for him to follow him. But not before addressing the rest of his customers, all of them watching the reunion unfold right in front of them. “Well, what are y’all waiting for, an invitation? Go on, eat! I worked too hard on that for you to just let it go cold!”

Immediately after he said that, it was as if nothing at all had happened. Everyone gathered turned back to their own lunch and conversations, and soon, the hustle and bustle so typical of restaurants began to fill up the room once more. 

His hands on his hips, Alibert rolled his eyes good-naturedly at the scene. “Seriously. Sometimes it feels like no one respects good food anymore…” Then he locked eyes with Yugo and gestured with his head towards a room a little further down the hall, past the kitchen. Right as they walked past the kitchen door, he called out, “Toto, Matou, Tomato! You’re in charge of waiting tables and manning the stove while I’m gone! Remember there’s a pot of stew on the stove, it should be done in about five minutes!”

Alibert and Yugo didn’t stop their march even as three voices echoed after their boss, “On it, chef!”

As soon as they made it to the door, Alibert opened it for the Eliatrope and gestured for him to get inside, following close after him and closing the door behind him. “Sorry it’s probably not as fancy as your own office in your palace, but when one is a humble innkeeper, you gotta make do with what you have.” He said jokingly, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Yugo peruse the room. 

“Trust me, Alibert. Now matter how beautifully furnished my office might be, it’s still the last place I want to be at the end of the day.” Although it was true he actually did most of his paperwork in his room, not to mention the throne and Council rooms. 

Indeed, despite its lack of splendour, the Eliatrope King found himself smiling at the simple yet welcoming atmosphere of Alibert’s office. It really wasn’t much, just a middle-sized closet refurbished into a pantry, with the different ingredients the chef used in his dishes overflowing the shelves lining the walls and a simple desk loitered by a stack of papers and similar materials and a chair tucked against the far end of the room. 

Still, the sight brought a smile to his lips. It fitted Alibert so well. 

“Well, boy, what is it?” Alibert urged him gently, though a hint of impatience belied his genuine curiosity. “What’s got you all so secretive and tightlipped?”

The innkeeper raised an eyebrow, confused, when, without so much as turning to face him, Yugo seemingly opened his poncho to talk to the collar of his shirt in hushed tones. Even though he knew better than to voice his thoughts, Alibert was beginning to seriously consider whether the stress from his royal duties wasn’t messing with his mind and he came all the way to Emelka just to unwind. 

It honestly wouldn’t be the first time. 

Just then, the Eliatrope seemed to have reached an understanding with his garments, for he turned back around and rummaged inside his clothes as he answered the Enutrof’s previous question, right as he presented him with the most befuddling sight Alibert had ever seen in his life. 

“This.” He said, gesturing between the innkeeper and what he held in his hand, which he brought closer to the Enutrof to inspect. “Alibert, this is Amalia. Amalia, this is Alibert.” 

Good old Alibert truly had no idea what he was supposed to be looking at, and he had a very good feeling that his astonishment was reflected on his face, given the way he was gaping like a fish. ‘Amalia’, as Yugo called…her, he supposed, was nothing but a rag doll made out of dark brown fabric, with objectively simplistic features—just a sewn mouth, a pair of brown eyes, and a dishevelled tuft of green hair on top of her head. If he were being honest with himself, it was the kind of thing he would expect from a Sadida, and he couldn’t help but think it didn’t belong with someone like the Eliatrope King at all—.

Alibert’s train of thought was abruptly halted when Amalia blinked at him, tilting her head in curiosity, and smiled. Okay, so she was pretty cute. And that in itself wasn’t all that strange, as Sadida dolls, while not alive, were animated by nature. Still, it didn’t explain what Yugo was doing, carrying her around. He seemed to remember hearing some passing Bontarians gossiping about how the Eliatrope King had been blessed by the gods themselves with a Sadida Doll, but if this was what they were talking about, the source of all that commotion preceding that banquet at Bonta he had heard so much about, he had to admit it was a little underwhelming. 

Just when he was mulling over how to mask his disappointment without coming off as too obvious or, Enutrof forgive, rude, his thoughts were interrupted by a gust of wind picking up in his office, causing his hat, moustache, and clothes to flutter in the breeze. How was that possible? His office only had one small, round window and he left it closed right before he started preparing his first batch of food for the day! If that wasn’t strange enough, completely out of nowhere, a torrent of pink flower petals began to swirl around the room, the veritable whirlwind of blossoms seemingly concentrating around the doll’s small form. 

He chanced a glance the Eliatrope’s way, silently asking if this was all his doing, only for his eyes to widen in shock. Somehow, despite the sheer insanity going on around them, the craziest thing by far had to be how calm and relaxed Yugo seemed over the whole thing, almost as if he had seen it countless times before. 

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity but couldn’t have been more than a minute or two, the wind finally died down, the swirling petals slowly falling down the floor. As he followed the king’s gaze towards Amalia, a part of Alibert understood the Eliatrope’s serenity was most likely a result of having dealt with it before. 

The other part of Alibert was too busy gawking at what had just happened. 

There, standing in the middle of the room at probably a good head taller than he was, her posture perfectly straight while she held her hands in front of her—her fidgety fingers betraying her nervousness—, was a lovely Sadida young lady. Clad in a simple yet elegant beige pants and white, sleeveless top ensemble, with white wristbands and orange, leafy anklets that matched the large leaf sewn into her midsection. Her silky emerald hair, tied up in a high ponytail, perfectly framed her delicate face, making the small smile on her lips all the sweeter. 

However, Alibert wasn’t the only one intently staring at the person in front of him. For her part, Amalia’s scrutiny was just as intense, if slightly subtler by virtue of her not gaping at the chef as openly as he was her. 

The first thing that came to mind when the doll finally laid eyes on the man was that she could hardly believe he was supposed to be an Enutrof. Seriously, if it weren’t because she distinctly heard him swear by The Miser’s name, she would have assumed he was an Eliatrope who had somehow managed to make a living way outside of Oma’s confines. Either that, or he was just a non-believer which, frankly, was far more likely. 

While she had to admit her experience with Enutrof’s followers was limited to the Lord of the Spoils himself and the Enutrof King and his entourage, Alibert looked nothing like them. Which was a feat in itself, since Enutrof looked like a dragon made out of treasure chests and his worshippers were shovel-carrying old people. But there was absolutely nothing about Alibert that brought an Enutrof to mind. Rather than looking like a withered and wrinkled old man, Alibert could easily pass off as someone in his forties, early fifties at most. From his strong build, top-heavy posture that remained perfectly straight rather than hunched over, his blemish-free skin, and the bushy, brunette moustache framing his upper lip—the latter being a stark contrast to the shock white hair all Enutrofs sported—there was simply nothing that resembled Enutrofs as she knew them in the man in front of her.

While his general physique was misleading enough, it wasn’t the only reason why Amalia had a hard time believing he wasn’t actually an Eliatrope. Besides the brunette mane that was so prevalent amongst Yugo’s people, what really caught the doll’s eye was the giant chef hat on his head, which didn’t really look all that different from your regular Eliatrope hat. As its endtail reached down his back, it matched Yugo’s almost perfectly! All it was missing were a pair of ears. 

Still, she chose to keep her thoughts to herself for the time being. There’d be plenty of chances to ask about his peculiar appearance once they’d moved past the formalities. And so, her mind made up and her polite grin widening just a little, Amalia spoke, her voice clear like a stream in spring. “Good morning, Mister Alibert.” Much like she had done when she had first met Yugo and Master Joris, she leaned her body forward 90º as a sign of respect. “As Yugo said, my name is Amalia. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

As Yugo watched the exchange with a fond smile, silently begging Alibert to forgive him for not warning him of his intentions sooner and for the near heart attack he must have surely inflicted upon him, he couldn’t help the pleased tingle that ran down his body as he finally got to introduce the two Twelvians he cared most for. He had no doubt that once his initial surprise had worn off, Alibert would welcome Amalia with open arms and treat her with the same amount of fatherly affection and kindness as if she was his own daughter. 

He had once bestowed the same treatment on him, regardless of his otherworldly origins, after all. 

So imagine his surprise when, instead, good, old Alibert—always so jovial, so level-headed, so composed—, just jerked back in utter astonishment and pointed a trembling finger towards Amalia as he blurted out, “You’re a Divine Doll!”

…on second thought, maybe he should have warned Alibert of his intentions in advance. Yugo knew, probably better than anyone, that meeting a Divine Doll for the first time wasn’t quite the same as bringing a Wow Bow puppy home. He was also starting to wonder if perhaps Amalia wasn’t on to something when she said she could always just pretend to be a regular Sadida. Even if he didn’t doubt his accompanying her would have blown her cover, at least they would have saved poor Alibert the shock of a lifetime. 

Honestly, between Yugo’s first introducing himself to the man and now this, he was beginning to seriously consider paying for the poor man’s medical bill. As soon as his people got a hang on their currency, of course. He was at least responsible for his blood pressure rising for sure. 

And now Amalia was looking back at him, concern evident in her brown eyes even as she tried to keep a polite smile on her face, clearly as perplexed by the Enutrof’s reaction as the latter was by her presence. 

It was at that moment that the king chose to intervene. Clearing his throat, he stepped forward and between Alibert and Amalia. “That’s right, Alibert.” He told the innkeeper gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. Then, much like when Amalia was still in her doll form, he gestured to her. “Amalia here is Sadida’s eleventh Divine Doll. She’s been living with us for a while, and I figured it was about time I took her out for lunch to my favourite place in the entirety of the World of Twelve.”

The green-haired beauty, ever polite, extended her hand towards Alibert, her smile intact. “Pleasure to meet you, Alibert.”

“The pleasure is all mine, my Lady…” Alibert managed to mutter, practically on autopilot. His eyes scanning all over the Sadida demigoddess, his voice still conveyed an unmistakable sense of awe in spite of his low tone as he breathed out, “So the rumours are true, my boy. The gods did indeed entrust you with a Sadida Doll. Even after…” He trailed off, the meaning behind his unfinished words causing Yugo to furrow his brow as the ears on his hat flattened against his head. Then, he chuckled, slowly going back to his old self. “Somehow, this makes much more sense than them just gifting you a regular doll!”

Yugo snorted, his thoughts temporarily diverted from Alibert’s enigmatic words, imagining himself walking around with a doll on his shoulder. Although, looking back, it wasn’t that much different than what he had asked of Amalia earlier. As her giggles reached his ears and his gaze settled on her, the king’s eyes softened, an affectionate grin tugging at his lips. 

“Yeah, the gods sent her to us as a sign of goodwill.” He started, the sound of his voice drawing the doll’s attention back at him. She glanced up at him as if taken hostage by the sound of his voice. A shiver ran down his spine under the intensity of her gaze. “I can’t even begin to tell you just how much Amalia has been helping us since she arrived. She truly is a blessing.”

Yugo watched in satisfaction as a lovely blush spread all over her cheeks, the blood underneath highlighting her mahogany skin with their apple-like colour. For a moment, for just a moment, when the magnetic pull between them was at its strongest, his gaze flitted down to her parted lips, so inviting, so tempting, so close…

And then they broke away, fast as lightning, and his own face burned with the intensity of a thousand suns when Alibert spoke up, “Well, if that’s the case, then I sincerely thank you for coming to visit my humble abode, my Lady. Hopefully, this old chef’s dishes won’t be too disappointing compared to the high cuisine you must have enjoyed at the palace!”

Amalia, who had been too preoccupied looking everywhere but at Yugo and shyly tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, perked up when she realised Alibert was talking to her. Regaining her composure, if only a little, she hummed in affirmation. “Oh, yes. I’m sure it will be delightful, Alibert. After all, there has got to be a reason why Yugo likes this place so much, right?”

“A part of me is beginning to suspect he just likes to get out of the palace every once in a while…” chuckled Alibert, his arms crossed over his chest as he flashed the Eliatrope King a coy smirk. His smile widened when, from the corner of his eyes, he noticed Amalia sending Yugo a knowing look of her own. 

The ears of his hat lowering in ill-concealed embarrassment, there was nothing Yugo could do but shrink under their gazes. Although he would never admit it, he knew he was busted. 

Luckily for him, the Enutrof was gracious enough to put an early end to his suffering, for he let out a boisterous laugh before patting him energetically on the back, the action almost sending him tumbling forwards. 

“Alright, alright. Enough with the chit-chat. There’ll be plenty of that once I’ve served a plate of food right in front of you two.” Alibert said, beckoning the two of them to follow him out of the pantry-remodelled-office and towards the main dining room. 

Now that Amalia was out of Yugo’s pocket, she was free to scan every nook and cranny of the restaurant. She couldn’t help the warm grin that formed on her lips when she realised the Crispy Gobball Inn (as Yugo had called it before) was a lot more welcoming than the name suggested. Judging from the high, wooden ceilings, the simple decor adorning the walls, and the conversing patrons, the restaurant was indeed a simple eatery where people could leave their worries behind and enjoy some comforting, freshly-cooked lunch. The myriad of aromas invading her senses was enough to make Amalia’s mouth water. She had to embarrassedly place a hand against her belly and sheepishly laugh behind her palm when her stomach let out a loud growl, pointedly reminding her that she had yet to eat. 

Her cheeks coloured again for a very different reason when Yugo leaned in closer to her to whisper, “You’ll just love Alibert’s cooking. Definitely some of the best I’ve ever had, I promise.”

Not trusting her voice to speak, the doll simply let him know she had heard him with a meek nod. 

Finally, Alibert offered them to sit down on two stools placed right in front of the counter, which at the same time had first row seats to the kitchen and all the activity going on in it. Amalia watched with curious eyes as three young men were running themselves ragged as they juggled chopping and slicing different ingredients and dumping them into pans, manning the stove, and carrying the finalised dishes and drinks to their respective customers. She didn’t have much time to dwell on it, nor on the fact that Yugo had brought her closer to himself when one of the boys—the one acting as waiter—took a good look at her and let out a loud Boowolf whistle. Instead, her attention was immediately drawn to Alibert unceremoniously shoving one of his clients off his chair and directly onto the floor. 

She had to do a double take when she turned to Yugo for an explanation and he remained perfectly unaffected by the whole thing. Moreover, while his lips were curled upwards in amusement, his eyes reflected a certain sense of boredom, as if Alibert shoving old people off their chairs was just another Tuesday for him. What the actual—?

Her head snapped back around and her eyes widened further in shock when the man, despite his old and fragile appearance, sprung back up with the agility of a Rogue on the run, and shook his fist angrily in the air, “Sweet Miser above, Alibert! Is that how you treat your customers?!”

Alibert just blinked, unimpressed. “Goodness, no. You know I’d never dream of treating my customers like that, Ruel.”

“Oh, so I suppose I’m the exception just because we happen to be old friends, huh?!” The man, Ruel, demanded to know. 

The only change in the chef’s expression was the arching of a bored eyebrow. “Nope.” He said, popping the ‘p’. Suddenly, his features sharpened into a scowl, and Ruel audibly gulped. “I get to treat you like that because, as far as I’m concerned, you’re no customer of mine.”

Letting out a scandalised gasp, Ruel brought a hand to his chest. “How could you?! After all we’ve been through, you dare say I’m not one of your customers even though I have faithfully come here at least once a week ever since you opened the restaurant more than twenty years ago?”

“And you have yet to pay for a single meal!” Alibert exclaimed, throwing his arms out in exasperation at his old friend’s antics. “By this point your tab must be bigger than the rivalry between Bonta and Brakmar!”

In response, all the old man did was hold his head high with a sniff as he crossed his arms. “Just so you know, it’s very impolite to ask your friends for money. I expected more from you, Alibert.”

“It’s even more impolite to never give it back!”

And that was all Amalia needed to know this Ruel fellow was an Enutrof, and one that ticked all the boxes, for that matter. Between his scrawny figure; hairless head except for a small ponytail that contrasted greatly with his bushy, silver beard; his worn-out clothes that had definitely seen better days; and, last but not least, his stinginess, for all she knew he could very well be Enutrof’s son himself. 

As the two men bickered back and forth like an old married couple—with Alibert taking on the role of the long-suffering wife—, Amalia turned back to gaze up at Yugo, befuddled by his nonchalance. 

Yugo managed to stifle his snort with varied degrees of success when he noticed the absolutely flabbergasted expression on Amalia’s face. Somehow her jaw only dropped further down when all he could offer in response was a helpless shrug and a brief explanation, “This happens all the time, don’t worry. I’m starting to believe this is how they bond.”

Blinking rapidly at his answer, her mind still struggling to catch up with the insanity that was her reality in that very moment, she focused back on the conversation between the two very differently-looking Enutrofs. 

“Quit your yapping, Ruel. You were about done, anyway.” Alibert said as he wiped the counter with a wet rag. Immediately after, he dried it off with another, dry rag, and capped it all off by masterfully placing two goblets on top of the counter and pouring some water into them. “Besides, we got company.”

Ruel raised an eyebrow when his old friend gestured to the side with his head, only for his eyes to widen at the sight of that Yugo lad cheerfully waving at him, while the loveliest Sadida he had ever seen in all his years timidly mimicked the action by his side. 

“Hey, Alibert. It’s been a while.” The Eliatrope greeted him warmly. He gestured at the green-haired beauty next to him. “I’d like you to meet Amalia. She’s a very special friend of mine.”

The girl, Amalia, greeted him with a polite nod, tentatively extending the hand that wasn’t currently clenched before her chest towards him. “Um, pleasure to meet you.”

Putting on his most charming act, he took Amalia’s hands in his and offered her a golden-toothed smirk. “The pleasure is all mine, my dear.” He turned to address Yugo. “Atta boy! Not only did you finally find yourself a girlfriend, but she’s a real beauty too!”

No sooner had the light-hearted joke left his mouth did the two of them turn bright red. They made sure to keep a respectable distance between each other as they stammered their way out of explaining to Ruel there was absolutely nothing going on between them. 

After a few minutes of that, Alibert took pity on them and, with a good-natured sigh, set out to give them an out. “Amalia, don’t humour him. Trust me, you’ll end up regretting it. I humoured him once, years ago, and I haven’t been able to get rid of him since!”

“Why, you ungrateful old gargoyle, you…!”

“Look who’s talking.” The chef flashed his old friend a wry smile. 

Had he noticed the charged atmosphere between those two lovebirds back in his office, when they stared deep into each other’s eyes, seemingly aiming for a kiss, and time seemed to still? But, of course! He was gaining in years, but he still had a long way to go before he lost his eyesight completely. Was he going to say anything about it and poke fun at them when it was a topic they clearly weren’t ready for yet?

…okay, maybe a little. But unlike Ruel, he at least knew when to stop! Seriously, he was doing them a favour. True to his nature, when the old miser found something juicy, like an Enutrof with a shiny kama, he didn’t let the matter go easily. He would have heckled them about it until Yugo swore off ever stepping foot in his inn ever again. 

And he couldn’t have that, now could he? Not only because the boy was the leader of the otherworldly and very powerful species that seemed to have everyone on edge, but also because he had grown quite fond of him and he would miss his visits. Especially now that he’d introduced him to his little girlfriend.

What? He just couldn’t resist, so sue him. 

The kindly innkeeper was broken out of his reverie by Yugo and Amalia taking their respective seats in front of the counter and right in front of him. He smiled at them. “What can I get you, guys?”

Yugo’s answer was swift. “Same as always, Alibert. Thank you.”

“Even your drink? Wouldn’t you like some bamboo milk instead of your usual water?” Alibert suggested, as it was in his innkeeper nature, but the king just shook his head politely. 

“Just water is fine, thanks. I still have to get us back home and, trust me, drunkenness and portals don’t mix.”

Yugo laughed lightly at that, clearly thinking back to some occasion where alcohol had done a number to him and/or his people. But since neither Alibert nor Ruel had ever seen a tipsy Eliatrope, they only chuckled a little out of politeness. The chef then redirected his attention to the Divine Doll. 

“What will it be, my Lady?”

Amalia startled a little, and felt silly about it immediately afterwards. They were in a restaurant, so it was only natural that Alibert would ask her what she’d like to eat. Problem was, she had no idea. 

Back at the palace, she mostly just ate whatever the chef and kitchen staff had cooked that day, so outside of saying she preferred some fruit over more elaborate desserts or if she would like some bread with her food, she had never really had much of a choice. And on top of that, there was also the fact that she simply didn’t know what Alibert served in his restaurant. 

As she wracked her mind trying to come up with an answer to the surprisingly impossible task, her finger tapping her chin pensively, Yugo placing a hand on her shoulder as he leaned closer to her got her to perk up in his direction. 

“I can’t recommend Alibert’s Gobball Stew enough.” He told her, giving her a toothy grin. “It’s the best thing on the menu by far, and that’s saying something!”

“Thank you, my boy. Can’t deny it feels good to have your cooking recognised.” The Enutrof said, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment at the compliment. Then, his expression soured as he shot a glare in Ruel’s direction. “Not everyone is as appreciative of my food as you are. Even though it’s clearly good enough to keep them coming for twenty years.”

“Typical. You have no trouble forgiving an apple thief, but when it comes to me, you sure know how to hold a grudge…” Ruel grumbled quietly to himself, rolling his eyes and making a physical effort to avoid making eye contact with his best friend. 

Fearing another round of bickering was about to start lest she did something, Amalia stammered out her answer, “I-I…um! The…the Gobball Stew sounds fine. I’d like to try it, too.”

Alibert’s scowl immediately softened at the doll’s request. “Of course, my Lady. It’ll be an honour. Do you want anything to drink?”

She shook her head. “No, thank you. Water is fine.”

“Suit yourselves.” The chef shrugged. He left a jar full of water near their untouched goblets, silently telling them they were free to get as many refills as they wanted. He turned back around and wandered deeper into the kitchen, calling out to them over his shoulder, “I’ll start with your stews right away. In the meantime, how ‘bout you tell me how Adamaï’s doing, huh, Yugo? And don’t worry about distracting me; I might not be so young anymore, but I can still multitask just fine.”

That got Amalia’s attention. “You’ve met Adamaï before?”

“But of course! I met the two of them at the same time, as a matter of fact.” Alibert answered, his back still turned to her as he rummaged through the crates where he kept all the ingredients. He picked up some onions, a few peppers, and several mushrooms; placed them on a cutting board and, with an expert hand, began to slice them with a kitchen knife. “Speaking of the Shushu, is there a reason why he didn’t come today with you two? Is he very busy?”

“Adamaï is doing just fine, Alibert. Thanks for asking.” Yugo replied, his head resting on his hand as he waited for his meal. “There were just some things that needed to be taken care of at the palace, so he chose to sit this one out. Just this once.” He winked at the Enutrof, hoping he wouldn’t take his twin’s absence the wrong way. 

He had nothing to worry about, for the chef just looked up from his task and sent him a knowing smile, an eyebrow arched. “Letting your brother do all the work while you’re out and about, having fun? My, that’s not very kingly of you, Your Majesty.”

The Eliatrope had the decency to blush. Truth be told, the real reason why Adamaï chose not to accompany them to Emelka was because this was all supposed to help Amalia out and make her feel better over whatever it was that had been troubling her lately. And Ad was very adamant on not getting in the way. As much as Yugo tried to argue that that was just ridiculous since they were all friends, his brother shut him up with a look. 

A look that clearly said that Amalia needed him at the moment, so the dragon would most likely just spend the day acting like a third wheel. 

Another look from his twin prevented Yugo from protesting about that. 

Just as he was about to give some flimsy excuse or use his usual laid-back persona to get Alibert off his back, Amalia beat him to the punch. Yugo could only stare at her as she stood up for him. 

“Oh, but that’s not true at all!” She said, her voice, though still soft and sweet, was filled with unwavering conviction. “Yugo’s always doing his very best to be of service to his people. Every single day, his schedule is simply packed with the daily responsibilities he has to tend to.”

She began listing things off with her fingers. “Every day, he trains, and meets up with his siblings individually to check up on their progress on their respective fields and chores. And he personally talks to the members of their staff and guards to see if there’s anything to report. And at least once a week he listens to his subjects’ grievances, fully intending to solve them as quickly as possible even if it means he must pull an all-nighter. Not to mention, he also must hold a meeting with the Council of Six to discuss important matters and update each other on their progress.

“And yet,” She turned to look at him with such sweetness in her eyes, Yugo could practically taste the sugar on his lips. If only he could taste it on hers… “Amidst all that, despite how time-consuming it surely is, Yugo always takes some time out of his busy schedule to spend it with me.” She looked at Alibert straight in the eye, her gaze piercing yet not unkind. “I assure you, Alibert, nobody takes his responsibilities as seriously as Yugo.”

A pregnant silence fell over them after Amalia’s impassioned speech. While a small blush betrayed her own vulnerability, the doll didn’t back down, hers a face of determination. The Eliatrope wished he could follow her example, however, he found himself too overwhelmed to move his hand away from his burning cheeks, let alone look the girl (or the Enutrofs, for that matter) in the eye. His heart thudded violently against his ribcage. Meanwhile, the pair of old friends could only stare wide-eyed at Amalia, before exchanging meaningful glances with each other, years of friendship allowing them to hold a full conversation without words. 

Finally, the chef’s shock melted into a smile. “Of course, my Lady. I didn’t mean to imply Yugo doesn’t work hard to be a good king, I know for a fact that nothing could be further from the truth.”

“So…?” She trailed off, tilting her head to the side. 

“It was just some harmless teasing between friends. All in good fun.” He promised, before pointing a finger in the Eliatrope’s direction. “But I’m serious! Tell your brother to stop by soon. You know I enjoy your visits.”

“Of course, Alibert. I’ll let him know.” Then, his face broke into a downright devilish smirk as he seemed to remember something. “Just make sure to keep any Kralamoure out of sight.”

The chef actually cracked up at that, much to the doll’s bewilderment. After a little while, he quieted down, wiping a tear off his face. “Oh, your brother’s never gonna live that down, is he?”

“Nope.” Said Yugo with a wolfish grin, popping the ‘p’.

“He’s never gonna live what down?” Amalia asked, her face scrunched up in confusion as she stared back and forth between the two of them. “Did something happen with a Kralamoure?”

Now that she thought about it, she remembered how Adamaï hadn't looked all that enthused when she discovered the creature for the first time back when the three of them went to Oma’s beach. Maybe it was related?

“You could say that…” Alibert chuckled. Amalia was about to insist some more when Yugo took pity on her and began retelling the story himself. 

“As you can imagine, the only thing more eye-catching than an Eliatrope is an Eliatrope Dragon, so the first few times Ad and I went exploring on our own, he had to take on a less conspicuous form. Usually, he goes with the local wildlife. And on this particular day, Ad chose to be a Kralamoure. Now, what does a Kralamoure have to do with Emelka’s wildlife, I don’t know, but when dragons get an idea, it’s impossible to change their minds. So I let him be.”

“But I thought dragons were capable of taking on more humanoid appearances.” Shinonomé, Grougaloragran, and Phaeris were proof enough of that. “I get Adamaï can be stubborn, but why would he choose to be a Kralamoure, of all things?”

Yugo winced and tilted his head every which way. “They are, they definitely are. It’s just that full-on humanoid forms have never really been Ad’s forte. Random creatures like tofus or even golems? No problem. But the most human he can look is his usual appearance.”

“Huh.” Was all the doll could say in response to that. 

“Anyway,” Yugo continued. “For some reason, Ad turned into a Kralamoure, but because of a series of events that aren’t all that relevant right now, he ended up with the other Kralamoures Alibert had taken out.”

Amalia gasped. She already had a pretty good inkling on what happened next and couldn’t help but feel waves of sympathy for the dragon. 

“Hadn’t Yugo stopped me and Adamaï shapeshifted back into his usual self on time, he would have ended up as that day’s special.” Alibert finished grimly, confirming her thoughts. Then, he added, almost like an afterthought. “Not gonna lie, I don’t think I’d be able to bring myself to cook Kralamoure ever again after that…”

They all nodded in agreement. The Divine Doll, in particular, had never eaten Kralamoure before, but seeing what almost happened to her friend, she figured it was better if it remained that way and she swore it off altogether. 

As he tossed the rice he’d need for the stew into the boiling water, Alibert tried to change the subject to lighter topics. As much as he and Yugo liked to tease Adamaï about it, there was no doubt that almost being cooked alive was a really macabre topic. It was really bringing the mood down. 

“So, what can you tell us about Inglorium, my Lady?” Alibert asked casually, sending Amalia a calculated side-glance meant to downplay his question. As the doll perked up, he kept his focus on stirring the pot. “Forgive me, I’m sure you must have been asked the same thing countless times already, but you’ll have to understand, us mortals tend to get curious over the realm of the gods.”

“Speak for yourself.” Ruel scoffed dismissively. In the blink of an eye, however, his disinterested expression lit up in excitement and he leaned in closer to Amalia, grasping her hands in his. She had to suppress the urge to flinch at his eager eyes and far-too-wide smile. “Having said that, is it true what they say about Enutrof’s realm? Is there treasure as far as the eye can see?”

Amalia’s face fell, unimpressed. Figures that would be the only thing Ruel would be interested in. Coincidentally, that was all the Enutrof King wanted to know as well when they met back at Bonta. 

“I’m Sadida’s Doll, Ruel.” She began, her voice slow and clear as she tried to get her point across. “While I have met the other gods, I only have access to the… um… common areas and my father’s own dimension. I have no idea what Enutrof’s realm looks like.”

Ruel’s face fell at her explanation and he unceremoniously let go of her hands. He looked like he was about to cry. 

Thankfully for all parties involved, Alibert intervened, swatting his old friend away. “In that case, how are the gods, Lady Amalia? I’m sure you must have a lot of interesting anecdotes from your time with them.” His brow furrowed in confusion when all she did was pull a face and do a so-so motion with her hand. 

“Not really, I’m afraid.” She admitted. Yugo, who had been watching her intently since the conversation began, didn’t miss the way she fiddled with her wristband. “Naturally, I spent more time with my father and sisters as they all explained what I would need to know. But aside from Cra, who would drop by now and then to visit, I wasn’t really introduced to the other gods until it was practically time to come to the mortal realm.

“Although I must admit during that time, limited as it may have been, I got to appreciate certain characteristics and quirks that I have seen duplicated in their respective followers.”

“You mean things like how Ecaflip is always itching to gamble, a trait that he clearly passed down to his worshippers, right?” The Eliatrope king offered, remembering when she explained the same thing to the Twelvian rulers or she shared her tales about Inglorium with him. 

She nodded, a small smile on her face. “That’s right. I also remember taking notice of the fact that the Cra Matriarch and her entourage were as calm and collected as their goddess. Or the Sram’s apparently shared stoicism. And the Eniripsa Queen was just as bubbly and curious as Eniripsa herself!”

She also remembered being taken aback by the Iops’ battle-ready and impulsive nature. Maybe they weren’t the best conversationalists around, but they were at least entertaining. Though she could only wonder if they had that in common with their patron god or not—for some reason, she never got to meet Iop. Whatever the case, though, she had to admit their hair was to die for.

Her smile widened ever so slightly when she remembered the short moments she shared with the Sheran Sharms. While Prince Armand seemed to be more high-strung, and maybe even a little abrasive, she couldn’t help but be reminded of her father when in the presence of King Oakheart. He was a good man, she could feel it. 

“And what about The Miser himself?” Alibert urged her gently, unknowingly breaking her out of her stupor. The steak he placed into the pan sizzled upon touching its hot surface. “What can you tell us about him?”

Yugo had to bite back a laugh, his mind going back to their first encounter with the Enutrof King. He didn’t forget how the diminutive man cut straight to the chase and inquired about the size of his god’s treasure, much like Ruel had done moments before. If the deity himself was as money-hungry as his followers, then he feared the kind of offerings he demanded from them. 

“He’s stingy.” 

The words were out of Amalia’s mouth before she even had the time to think them over. Her eyes widened in shock when her brain finally caught up to her mouth, no doubt helped by the gaping looks both Enutrofs were flashing her with. By her side, she heard Yugo poorly trying to hide his snorts and wheezes, and, her lips pursed in irritation, she elbowed him to cut it out. 

Praying Sadida would put her out of her misery, she scrambled to add, “Um, uh… B-but that’s not all…! I mean, Enutrof has a lot of good qualities, too! Let’s see, um… there’s his… uh…”

Just as she was about to faint from trying to stammer her way out of her faux pas, the doll’s worries were put at ease when Alibert and Ruel broke into loud cackles right in front of her. In fact, Amalia couldn't help but shrink on herself uncomfortably when the commotion caused by their uproarious laughter drew the attention of the other patrons to the counter and onto her. 

As the two Enutrofs struggled to reel their amusement in, the doll scowled at Yugo. “You could’ve helped me, you know.”

She almost gasped when he still had the audacity to chuckle. “Sorry, I just figured you’d find out sooner or later.”

“A warning would’ve been nice!”

“And ruin the surprise?” He winked at her. 

Amalia sputtered, her cheeks ablaze. “I stood up for you earlier!”

That shut him up, and the Sadida Doll allowed herself to smirk in satisfaction, counting that as a small victory. What she didn’t know, however, was that Yugo’s silence had less to do with having lost their mock argument and everything to do with the fact that he couldn’t get Amalia’s earnest defence of him out of his mind. The way she so readily jumped in to prove Alibert’s—well-meaning and harmless—jabs wrong. The fact that she knew him so well she could easily recite his daily and even weekly schedule from memory. And the racing of his heart when she showed her sincere and deep appreciation for the fact that he always took some time away to be with her, how much it all clearly meant to her…

It all affected him in ways Yugo wasn’t quite ready to confront yet. 

So he welcomed the distraction when Ruel finally got his laughing fit under control to mutter, “No wonder you think the old dragon’s stingy, Amalia.” He wiped a tear off his face, before staring at his nails and scoffing with a roll of his eyes over a particular memory. “Last time I was in a pinch and asked him for help, he refused to do anything unless I paid him! Self-serving lizard…” 

“Ruel, you never give him any offerings in the first place. He’s a god, he’s bound to know when you’re lying.” Alibert pointed out. 

“Meh, same thing.” Ruel replied stubbornly, turning away with a huff. Indeed, the old man was the epitome of Enutrof stinginess. There was no doubt about that. 

As the innkeeper and his friend started bickering yet again, Amalia’s eyes trailed over to Yugo, the topic that had sparked up this conversation fresh in her mind. Yugo and his people worshipped and supposedly took after the Great Goddess Eliatrope. Did that mean Yugo and his siblings owed their personality to their mother? The Council of Six were all very different from each other; if that was the case, she wondered which traits they had actually inherited from her. 

Was she as scientifically-oriented as Chibi and Grougaloragran? Perhaps she was as level-headed and patient as Mina and Phaeris? Was she as enigmatic and all-knowing as Qilby and Shinonomé? Did Glip and Baltazar get their nurturing nature from her? Was she as impish as Nora or—Amalia shuddered at the thought—as prone to hold grudges as Efrim?

Would she be as selfless, and kind, and adventurous, and warm, and caring, and understanding, if a tad bit impulsive and emotion-driven, as Yugo? 

…And Adamaï. She meant to say if she would be like Yugo and Adamaï in terms of personality.

(She chose to ignore how Adamaï was actually far more level-headed and logical than his twin).

Just then, Yugo noticed her staring and turned to face her, his own expression unreadable. Almost as if he, too, had his mind plagued with swirling thoughts he couldn’t quite make sense of. He raised an eyebrow, and that alone was enough to convey his silent question—’What’s up?’. 

Amalia had her own question at the tip of her tongue, begging her to open her mouth so it could come tumbling out. Right before she got the chance, however, Alibert’s voice broke the spell they found themselves under, drawing their focus back to him. 

“Anywho, don’t worry, my Lady. And thank you for answering our questions.” Unlike his previous instances of bickering and mild aggression, this time, the innkeeper put his arm around Ruel’s shoulders and pulled him towards him. “I don’t know about these old bones right here, but it’s been a while since I heard any interesting stories!”

“That’s because you hung up your shovel and replaced it with a spatula just as things were getting good.” Ruel ribbed him with a smug smirk. 

“And I don’t regret it one bit.”

“Wait, what?” Amalia blinked, taken aback. “Alibert, is that true? You weren’t always a chef?”

“Believe it or not, this kindly innkeeper you see here used to be a bounty hunter alongside Ruel.” Yugo supplied helpfully, doing his very best to hold back the snort that threatened to escape him as Amalia’s jaw practically hit the floor, her eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. Instead, he leaned over the counter and clasped a hand on the chef’s shoulder, giving him a firm squeeze. “Isn’t that right, Alibert?”

Amalia whipped her head so fast in his direction, the only possible explanation as to how she hadn’t given herself whiplash had to be that Sadida himself had to have intervened. 

“You used to be a bounty hunter?”

He scratched the side of his face, a little nervous under her scrutiny. “That’s right, my Lady. I was a bounty hunter for a while twenty years ago. Until I quit.”

“May I ask what made you quit?”

“Well, why not?” He shrugged. “You answered our questions, so it seems only fair that I answer yours. Now, let’s see…”

Amalia waited with bated breath for Alibert to begin with his tale. In the meantime, even as the chef organised his thoughts, his hands kept moving deftly around his station, adding the chopped vegetables and cooked rice into a bigger casserole and beginning to stir fry it all with a wooden spoon. Sizzling on the fire next to it, the steaks were almost done, too. 

The aroma emanating from the kitchen was so mouth-watering, Yugo couldn’t help but sigh blissfully, his stomach growling as it impatiently waited for the meal. Even Amalia had trouble focusing as soon as the scent hit her nostrils. 

Luckily for her, she didn’t get the chance to get too lost in her culinary daydreams, because as Alibert finally served their food to them—two plates filled with a generous serving of rice and stir-fried veggies with a crispy Gobball chop on top—, he spoke up:

“Well, I suppose I should start by saying that, just like Yugo told you, I used to be a bounty hunter. Ruel and I were partners and used to take on missions for money.”

“You mean you were my sidekick.” Ruel corrected with a smirk and a swig of his bamboo milk. “No offence, Al, but when you were still in diapers, I was already apprehending wanted criminals.”

Alibert ignored him. “Guess you could say it’s not all that surprising, coming from two Enutrofs. Being a bounty hunter is basically like getting paid for living adventures.”

“That sounds amazing…” The doll breathed, her eyes sparkling at the prospect of being able to make a living out of venturing into the world. Alibert had to suppress a chuckle at the panicked look plastered all over Yugo’s face at her reaction. 

“Overprotective much?” He couldn’t help but think. Instead, he chose to help him out. “It definitely has its perks.” If Yugo kept staring at him with those disbelieving, manic eyes of his, his façade was sure to crack and he’d break into another laughing fit. “But it’s also incredibly dangerous, too. Keep in mind that a bounty hunter doesn’t get paid unless they apprehend a criminal and bring them to justice. 

“And their crimes can go from something as harmless as stealing a few apples, to committing serious atrocities.” He said gravely, leaning closer to the girl over the counter. His eyes travelled over to Ruel  when the old Enutrof let out a rather violent shudder.

“The Compulsive Chopper of Bonta…” He muttered, seemingly reliving old memories. 

“Well, when you put it like that, I guess I can see why you wanted to quit…” Amalia admitted, before picking up her fork and finally bringing some of the stew into her mouth. Only for her eyes to snap open in shock as her taste buds were assaulted by a wave of rich, savoury flavours that almost knocked her out cold. 

The men around her watched the doll curiously, caution in their eyes, as she swallowed that forkful slowly, very slowly, and remained immobile for a while. Her brown orbs, as big as the plates containing her meal, stared straight ahead, almost as if she’d seen a ghost. The Eliatrope and the two Enutrofs shared fearful glances, and Ruel motioned towards Amalia with his head to get Yugo to do something about her. 

The king, who had his own spoonful suspended in mid-air at his friend’s strange behaviour, gently set his fork down. Sending a nod towards Ruel, he tentatively reached out to Amalia, but just as he was about to gently nudge her out of her stupor, the doll snapped out of her trance all by herself and proceeded to all but gorge the stew down under the astonished, and a little bit concerned, stares of the men around her. 

For a little while, Amalia kept shoving spoonfuls of rice and vegetables into her mouth as she furiously tore into the steak with her knife and cut it up to likewise wolf it down. Then, she began to slowly regain her bearings as she finally seemed to remember she had company— company that was looking at her with slight terror in their eyes—, and her frantic, ravenous movements halted. With a sheepish, forced chuckle, she set her utensils down on the table and sat up straight once more, her cheeks red as apples. 

The colour intensified when she took notice of the inn’s patrons staring at her like she had used her powers to grow an entire forest from scratch. 

She awkwardly coughed into her hand. “Um… Yugo was right. Your Gobball Stew is delicious, Alibert.” A pause. “Thank you.”

All three of them kept staring owlishly at her for a few more seconds, causing the doll to further shrink on herself in embarrassment. And, then, they suddenly broke down laughing, which turned her embarrassment into irritation, a vein throbbing on her forehead. Alibert threw his head back as he cackled, Ruel kept banging the counter with his fists, and Yugo was at the very least trying to suppress his blown-out laughter into more modest snickers. 

It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, but to Amalia, it might as well have been an eternity. 

At long last, the Eliatrope regained his composure enough to tell her, “I knew you’d love it. I’m glad in the end I didn’t make a mistake by bringing you here.”

Though surprised at first by his earnest response, Amalia soon returned his smile with one of her own. “As long as it comes from you, I’m pretty sure I’ll end up loving anything you show me.”

She couldn’t help but feel giddy inside when pink dusted over his cheeks at her admission, her own face growing warm. Sometimes he was just too cute for his own good. Unfortunately for her, the feeling was short-lived.

“Gotta say, last time I checked I was pretty sure you were supposed to be a Sadida demigoddess, not an Osamodas one.”

Amalia grimaced at the thought of being called Osamodas’ daughter, especially when she remembered the uncomfortable feeling she got whenever she locked eyes with the royal family. If it weren’t because of her own personal grudge against Count Harebourg, she would say not even Frigost was as cold as their sneers. 

She was almost too afraid to ask. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Yugo just shrugged innocently. When he smirked, his fangs glinted dangerously. “It’s just, you were eating like a hungry beast right there.”

Her cheeks ablaze, Amalia let out a scandalised squawk and gently swatted him on the shoulder. Much to her chagrin, her reaction only caused Yugo to laugh harder. 

Rolling her eyes at the unkingly display with a huff, she turned in her stool to face Alibert again and ask him more about his former profession. Only for the words to die in her throat when she noticed the chef and his old friend staring back at them with unreadable expressions on their faces. 

“What are you guys looking at?”

From the corner of her eye, she noticed how Yugo shifted in his own stool. The movement of his ears indicated he, too, was beginning to feel anxious. 

Feeling like they had been caught, Alibert shook his hands in front of himself in an attempt to dispel any lingering tension, while Ruel pretended to go back to nursing his tankard. 

“No, no, nothing at all!” The chef rushed out, sweatdropping under her suspicious glare. “I’m just glad you seem to enjoy my food that much, Lady Amalia. It’s not every day that a divine child comes into my restaurant and praises my culinary skills like that.”

“Except for when Yugo and Adamaï come.” Ruel muttered into his bamboo milk. He let out a yelp when Alibert elbowed him to cut it out. 

“Oh.” Amalia said, timidly looking at her side and tucking some hair behind her ear. “In that case, yes, I very much enjoyed your food, Alibert.” She sent a conspiratory wink his way and stage-whispered. “Don’t tell the kitchen staff back at the palace, but yours is the best cooking I’ve had since I arrived.”

The Enutrof smiled. “Your secret’s safe with me, my Lady.”

“And with me.” Yugo agreed. “Between you and me, I also like Alibert’s cooking better, but what kind of king would I be if I put down my people’s cooking for an outsider’s?”

The three of them laughed at his joke, while Ruel hid his own smirk behind his drink. Bringing yet another spoonful to her mouth in a much more subdued pace, Amalia made sure to redirect the conversation back to its original topic. 

“So, is that why you quit, Alibert?” When all he did was raise a confused eyebrow, she elaborated. “Because the bounty hunter life was too dangerous?”

The Enutrof’s bewildered expression softened into a small, wistful smile. 

“Yes and no.”

And so, as his two guests stuffed their faces with his specialty and he busied himself with prepping upcoming orders and ordering his employees around, Alibert told them all about how he came to leave that life behind. 

According to the Enutrof, while he certainly didn’t regret all the adventures he and Ruel had been to and everything they had seen, after a while, it stopped being all that fulfilling. Whenever they handed their latest target in and received their reward, he would find his gaze and mind wandering, far too distracted by thoughts and choices that had nothing to do with the here and now. More than once, when the two adventurers turned in for the night next to the warm glow of the fire, while Ruel snored to his heart’s content, Alibert laid awake, wondering if that was all there was to it, to his life. 

Even more surprising—although, he admitted that, looking back, it really wasn’t— was the fact that he didn’t really enjoy the job all that much in the first place. Granted, it was great that they got to travel as much as they did, and the pay wasn’t so bad, but sometimes, depending on the ‘criminal’ they brought to justice, he couldn’t help the ache in his heart and the heavy chains of regret he would feel. One thing was chasing and capturing a hardened villain and mastermind like some of the most notorious criminals they had faced; and another very different thing was heavily fining or even jailing a poor family man who only wished to feed his loved ones during a time of crisis and famine. Especially when the aristocrats would take decadent meals for granted while the least fortunate starved. 

That was when he would most often disregard his duties upon accepting the job; it took a lot of convincing to get Ruel to listen to him, but most of the time, they ended letting those poor, unfortunate souls go and forsaking the reward money. 

(And each time without fail he would receive an earful from Ruel about the sacrilege that was letting those precious, precious kamas go just like that). 

As luck would have it, one such case didn’t just lead to him quitting the bounty hunter job at long last, but it also led him to Emelka. 

The two Enutrofs had taken up a job requiring them to chase down an apple thief. And… that was exactly what they did. Alibert confessed he was hesitant to really punish the guy for the ridiculous crime of robbing some measly apples to begin with, but when he realised he had only done so to feed his children, the kindly Enutrof realised once and for all he couldn’t go on with that kind of life. So he let the man go back to his family, hung up his shovel, and wished Ruel the best of luck in his future endeavours. Now all that was left was forging a new path for himself. 

“Let me tell you about this one perk being nice to others has, my Lady.” Alibert winked at her as he placed a hand on his hip. He flicked the rag he had in the other hand before leaning over to wipe the counter with it. “Most people will repay you out of gratitude.”

He nodded towards a middle-aged man sitting at a table near the back of the restaurant, next to him were a young man and woman that appeared to be his family. “See that man over there? He’s the apple thief I was telling you about. When he learned I would be staying in Emelka for a few days until I figured out what to do next, he sought me out and suggested I take over the old inn. Apparently, the village was in desperate need for some new life to be breathed into it.

“At first I wasn’t sure, but then I remembered how I always cooked for Ruel and I whenever we had to camp and I figured, ‘Why not?’.” He chuckled to himself, his eyes darting down in reminiscence as he scrubbed a difficult stain on the wood a little more furiously. “One thing led to the other and now, not only do I run the most successful inn on this side of Amakna, but I also ended up becoming the village’s mayor.” He let out a wistful sigh. “Life sure has ways to surprise you.”

Her polished plate of stew long finished, Amalia listened to Alibert’s tale with rapt attention, her head resting on her knuckles and her eyes sparkling in a newfound sense of profound admiration. If she already respected the man before due to his adventuring days, then his undeniable heart of gold managed to win her over completely. Not everyone was capable of going against the law to do the actual right thing, and even fewer people did so with the promise of money in mind, especially when the people in question were Enutrofs. So the fact that Alibert managed to resist his kama-loving instincts and decided to forge a path for himself was beyond incredible to the doll.

Her brows knitted together and her lips pursed in a firm line when Efrim’s words echoed unbidden in her mind, reminding her of her own shortcomings. She had a long way to go before she could ever be close to the chef’s level. 

She blinked those thoughts away when Yugo agreed with Alibert, “It sure has. Just when you think you have it all figured out, life throws a curved ball at you that sends you reeling and struggling to regain your footing.” 

Was she imagining things, or did his gaze flit momentarily to hers before he hastily fixed it right back ahead? Her eyebrow only raised higher when he cleared his throat, his voice suddenly hoarse.  “A-anyway, I’m glad you eventually managed to find your path and to live your life to the fullest, Alibert. You deserve it.” 

As if to emphasise his point, he raised his goblet in the air and tilted it slightly towards the chef, silently making a toast in his honour Amalia found herself mimicking heartily. 

They didn’t understand when the innkeeper let out a heavy sigh. “Thank you, Yugo. But, as much as I enjoy my life as it is now, that doesn’t mean I don’t have a few regrets of my own.” As he said that, he gazed longingly at the table where the old apple thief and his family were seated at, a sad glint reflected in his dark brown irises. 

Staring back and forth between Alibert and the family all the way over to the other side of the restaurant in confusion, the doll’s expression lit up in understanding before it melted into sympathy for the man. For all his accomplishments over the years, what Alibert truly wanted was a family of his own, but, for some reason or another, he never got the chance. 

As much as the Divine Doll wanted to reach out and console him, she remained quiet, her hands clutching at her pants nervously. No matter how generous, kind, and welcoming Alibert was, they had barely known each other for a short while. She couldn’t help but feel like she would be intruding upon something very personal if she said anything. Besides, Ruel and Alibert had known each other for years; if anyone could cheer him up, it was him.

Somehow, that didn’t make her feel all that much better over her own lack of initiative. 

She perked up when instead it was Yugo who reached out to the old innkeeper, placing his bandaged hand on his forearm to draw his attention. When the Enutrof looked down at him, the doll could see from the corner of the eye how the king had his characteristic comforting smile plastered on his face. 

“If there’s something I’ve learned over the years, it’s that no matter how long you live and how many things you do, chances are, you’ll never get to do everything you ever wanted.” He confessed, his voice kind but unwavering in its conviction. It was at moments like that Amalia remembered Yugo was also a demigod, only he had lived for far longer and was far more experienced than her. 

“We will always have regrets; after all, that is the price you pay for being able to make your own choices.” He continued. “What matters is that we don’t let those regrets keep us from enjoying the things we got right.”

For a moment, Alibert just stared at the boy in front of him, amazed by seeing such wisdom coming from such a young man. Then again, he supposed Yugo wasn’t really that young, now was he? How old did he say he was last time he asked, 500-something? Despite how he might look, he had already seen far more than the vast majority of the World of Twelve, and yet, he remained humble enough to let himself be taught and schooled by others. 

The old innkeeper guessed it was easy to forget Yugo was an extremely long-lived Eliatrope when, not only did he look to be in his twenties, but more than once Alibert himself had been there for him, listening to him vent as he unloaded his many responsibilities and worries unto him, sometimes still feeling as unprepared to be king as he did when his brother Chibi (if memory served) first appointed him as his successor. 

It was so easy to see a young man taking his first steps into adulthood when he still bickered and squabbled with his twin brother like a pair of kids. Or when his insecurities consumed him and Alibert would witness how he’d curl in on himself, appearing much younger than he really was both physically and mentally. Or when he would blush, and stutter, and gaze longingly at the beautiful flower he had brought with him as if he were a smitten teenager introducing his first girlfriend to his parents instead of a centuries-old demigod. 

From the moment they met, something about Yugo made Alibert want to be there for him, no matter what. He couldn’t help but get all misty-eyed when it was apparent Yugo wanted to do the same thing for him. 

His wide grin stretching from ear to ear, he snaked his own arm over Yugo’s shoulders and brought the king closer with an affectionate tug and a squeeze, laughing merrily and insisting he bring Adamaï over soon as the latter complained half-heartedly over not being able to breathe. 

From her seat, Amalia watched the exchange equal parts mesmerised and endeared. A few giggles escaped her as Ruel joined in on the fun and Alibert, with the grumpiest pout she had ever seen in her admittedly short life, playfully shoved the old miser away, grumbling about personal space as he did so. Her lips tugging upwards into a fond smile, Amalia found herself thinking that Alibert had found his own little family after all. 

...........................................................................................................................

“...and that is the story of how I led a Precious Metal Band, before that shameless fiend of Phil Armonique got greedy and crushed my dreams.” Ruel finished his tale with a swig of his drink and a nostalgic grumble. While Alibert leaned on the counter, rolling his eyes exasperatedly, Amalia and Yugo stared at the old Enutrof with eyes wide as saucers. 

If only by the sheer ridiculousness of it all. 

“But… you guys never even settled for a name…” Yugo pointed out warily. He had a feeling Ruel wouldn’t react well to being confronted with reality. 

His suspicions were proven correct when the old miser slammed his tankard against the counter hard enough to startle both Eliatrope and Sadida Doll, a nasty snarl on his face.

“Only because that foolish bragard refused to acknowledge the fact that my name was better! Hadn’t it been for that stubborn Dragoturkey, we would have taken the World of Twelve by storm!

“Do you know how popular Precious Metal is in Brakmar?” He asked aloud, but before either Yugo or Amalia had so much as a chance to open their mouths to respond, he cut them off, throwing his arms to the side frantically. “We could have been rich!” 

His eyes welled up with tears at the thought of all the precious kamas he lost, holding his head in his hands as he bawled furiously. So close and yet, so far… “And all because that egotistical, talentless hack insisted we named the band after him, even though I was the brains of the operation and the most important member to boot!” Yugo instinctively snaked an arm around Amalia’s waist and brought her closer to him when she flinched just as Ruel’s wails were beginning to raise in volume. “Had he seen reason and agreed to go along with my idea, our band’s name would have been remembered for generations!”

“Uh-huh.” Alibert, who was more than accustomed to his best friend’s little spiels and his tendency to lose himself in his hysterics whenever it came to money, just hummed noncommittally. Then, just as casually, he called out to Ruel. “And what did you say was the name of your band again?”

Sniffing loudly, Ruel opened his mouth to answer, only to close it immediately after. His face scrunched up in thought. “I… actually don’t remember.” He admitted sheepishly after a beat, flashing them a toothy grin as he rubbed the back of his head. 

While Yugo could only facepalm, Amalia almost fell off her stool For his part, Alibert just let out an exasperated sigh. “I knew it.”

Just as the old Enutrof was about to defend himself, the offended frown evident on his face, the Eliatrope cut in, standing from his stool and clasping his hands together. Looking up at him, the doll momentarily wondered if it was time they left already, and she couldn’t help the pang of disappointment she felt at the thought. She didn’t have anything to worry about, however. 

“As… entertaining as this has been,” Yugo commented diplomatically, pulling a face. “That last glass of water passed through me with the speed of a racing Dragoturkey, so, Alibert,” he addressed the man. “Would you please be so kind as to remind me where the restroom is?”

For a moment, the old innkeeper just blinked, bewildered, before he snapped out of his trance and let out a full-on belly laugh. Sometimes dealing with Yugo could be a riot, especially when he acted as casual as any man his age—or, well, any man whose actual age was the one he looked—, only to immediately afterwards regain the same level of formality and eloquence expected from someone of his position. 

Then again, considering Amalia was still present, he had a pretty good guess he was doing it mostly for her sake.

With one last chuckle, he jabbed his thumb to the side. “It’s right down the hall, Your Majesty. Let me know if you need me to refill the toilet paper or something.”

“Don’t worry. I can take care of it.” He smirked over his shoulder, wiggling his fingers meaningfully as he excused himself. 

With Yugo gone for the time being, Amalia found herself growing a little self-conscious. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been enjoying Alibert and Ruel’s company, though the latter could be a bit of an acquired taste, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t feel more at ease around new people if Yugo was there with her. 

She frowned at the thought, once again remembering Efrim’s hurtful but accurate assessment of her. She involuntarily closed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth as his voice echoed in her mind for the umpteenth time, tearing into her for her dependence on his brother. Even now, she needed him by her side just to be able to talk to two perfectly friendly people who had been nothing but kind to her. And he was just down the hall!

What was wrong with her? Couldn’t she do anything on her own? Did she always have to depend on Yugo? Just, what kind of Divine Doll was she—?

“Kama for your thoughts?”

She blinked rapidly, the self-disparaging trance she was in now broken. “Huh?” She oh-so-eloquently said. 

It took her a little more than she’d like to admit to regain her bearings, but when she finally did, she found both Ruel and Alibert were looking at her with unreadable expressions on their faces. Though, Amalia could tell they weren’t unkind. If anything, they looked worried about her. 

“Oh, no.”

Before she had the time to panic and try to frantically excuse herself, Ruel repeated his question. “Kama for your thoughts?”

The doll tilted her head to the side, “You charge people for thinking?” She honestly couldn’t put it past him…

“Probably in Brakmar.”

When it became clear the joke flew right over her head, her face scrunched up in confusion, Alibert stepped in to clarify. “Technically speaking, it’s Ruel who’s offering to pay you in exchange for hearing your thoughts, Lady Amalia.”

“Now, if you feel like paying me, who am I to deny the wish of a Divine Doll such as yourself?” Ruel chimed in, solemnly placing a hand over his heart in a display that wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Please, ignore him.” The innkeeper waved him off. When he focused back on the doll, his expression turned softer, more fatherly. “What we’re trying to say is, is there something troubling you, my Lady?”

Amalia was about to deny everything when Alibert jabbed a finger right in front of her face, causing her to yelp in surprise. “And don’t you even think about shrugging it off as nothing. I might be a humble innkeeper, but I have so many drunk and not-so-drunk customers confiding their problems with me, I might as well be a certified therapist at this point.”

“He’s not wrong, you know.” Ruel added as he took another swig of his bamboo milk—just how many of those had he had already? It was honestly impressive he still seemed to be coherent at all. For an Enutrof, he could give a Pandawa a run for their money. “There’s a reason I come here so often.”

For once, Alibert bit back a scathing remark about how he only seemed to come visit because he never forced him to pay his tab, no matter how much he complained about his best friend mooching off from him. But he held back. Now that wasn’t important, helping Amalia with whatever seemed to be on her mind was. 

Instead, he lowered his voice so it’d sound as encouraging as possible, offering the doll a small smile. “So, what seems to be the problem?”

Alibert watched as Amalia seemed to be battling with herself and whatever demons were plaguing her mind. Bringing a hand to her chest and bawling it into a fist, she averted her gaze, looking at everywhere but them, and bit down on her bottom lip. From her guarded, tense posture alone, it was easy to tell she was really debating whether she should say anything or insist on taking her secrets to the grave. 

After what felt like an eternity, the Divine Doll seemed to finally make up her mind. Her gaze down-lidded and gleaming with vulnerability, she let out a heavy sigh before glancing over at the chef. The way her shoulders sagged made it look like she alone was carrying the weight of the world—at least, whatever was burdening her must have been very heavy. She bit her lip a little harder. 

“Recently, I’ve been having… doubts.” She admitted, her voice small and unsure. She hugged herself for comfort as she spoke, her arms holding her torso as if she feared she would come breaking down unless she forced herself to keep it together. 

When she grew silent again, Alibert urged her gently. “What kind of doubts?”

As images of her last encounter with Efrim flashed through her mind, merciless, she forced herself to grit out. “About a lot of things, really.” She shrugged, small and helpless.

She wouldn’t go into much detail about what was really on her mind. After all, the last thing she needed was rumours going on about how a member of the Council of Six wasn’t just distrustful of her, but had also attacked and insulted her—Her! A Divine Doll. It would only serve to further aggravate the already tense rapport between Eliatropes and Twelvians and she couldn’t afford to make matters worse. 

“I was forced to face the fact that maybe…” She swallowed thickly. “That maybe I’m not worthy of being one of Sadida’s Dolls.” Her voice almost broke with that admission, the stinging sensation in her eyes back at full force as she tried to keep the tears that threatened to stream down her cheeks at bay. 

Both Enutrofs shared alarmed glances, struggling to believe their own ears. This time, it was Ruel who spoke up, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “My dear, surely you don’t think that! After all, you are a Sadida Doll—he made you himself! There’s no way you aren’t worthy of the position if you were born with it.”

“But that’s just it!” Amalia had to summon every ounce of self-control she possessed not to screech, worried over her voice carrying over to Yugo and alerting him of her current emotional state. If there was one thing she wanted to avoid at all costs, that was the king finding out about what happened with his little brother. “Sadida made me to be objectively exceptional! I’m a living, breathing doll with powers beyond mortal comprehension, for crying out loud! 

“And yet, I feel like, no matter how much I try, nothing I do ever amounts to anything. I’m surrounded by extraordinary people, all of them working themselves to the bone to achieve their goals and serve their purpose. And then there’s me… Despite having the devastating power of nature at my fingertips, I feel like I can’t do anything on my own. I’m always depending on others, to the point I’m utterly helpless by myself. How can I call myself a Divine Doll if I’m so pathetic!?”

As she spoke, her voice grew wobbly and unsure, threatening to tear her throat apart as the tears welled up in her eyes. By the time she was done talking, the dam broke and all she could do was sob as silently as possible into her hands, her body shaking with the motion. Luckily for her, Ruel was doing everything in his power to shield her from any prying eyes in her moment of vulnerability, both by placing a comforting hand on her shoulder as he leaned closer to her and by sending nasty glares as anyone who got too curious. She would have to remember to thank him when she wasn’t such a mess. 

She was taken aback when Alibert abruptly changed the subject, his tone even as he levelled with her. “Have you ever been to the Sadida Kingdom, my Lady?”

“W-what?” Was all she managed to say between sniffles, looking up at the chef from her hands with watery but confused brown eyes. Her shoulders still shook now and then from her sobbing.

“Have you ever been to the Sadida Kingdom?” He repeated. “Or met one of your father’s followers?”

Despite her bewilderment, the doll managed to answer honestly. “Um, no? I-I mean, I haven’t been to the Sadida Kingdom y-yet. Father sent me straight to the Eliatropes. And this is actually the second time I ever leave their territory, the first one being when we headed over to Bonta. Although, it was precisely there that I met the Sheran Sharms, the Sadida Royal Family.”

“I see.”

Alibert hummed with a nod, at the same time, he took her and Yugo’s plates away and stashed them into the sink to wash them later. Truth be told, in all his adventures over the world, he had never actually met the Sheran Sharms, as none of their travels ever took him and Ruel to their kingdom, let alone their court. He knew snippets and rumours he would gather from travelling Sadida who talked amongst themselves either as they parted from home or returned after some time away. 

From them he gathered that King Oakheart Sheran Sharm was beloved by his people thanks to his open-minded and welcoming, yet responsible and just nature. That his kingdom wept the loss of their dear queen almost as much as her family did. That young Prince Armand was shaping up into a worthy successor… even if he could still be quite arrogant, condescending, and his breath was bad enough to kill a Bwork. That a general feeling of unease regarding his decision to marry an outsider like that one Osamodas princess reigned supreme, as well as their general malcontent when it came to her… Really, the usual idle gossip amongst civilians.

But he had also learned enough over the years to understand the Tree People weren’t ones to be underestimated, and it would greatly hurt both them and their patron god to see a Divine Doll, the only creatures they worshipped as much as Sadida and their forests, beat herself up like Amalia was doing at the moment.

“W-why do you ask?” The doll stammered out as she tried to wipe the tears off her face. Much to her chagrin, however, Alibert chose to answer her query with a question of his own. 

“What did you think of them?”

“Of who? You mean the Sheran Sharms?”

The Enutrof nodded. He shot a meaningful look at Ruel, who was watching the scene in bewilderment, to remain silent. 

“Oh. Uh, let’s see…” Amalia began. Unbeknownst to her, during the time it took her to gather her thoughts to reply, she was doing exactly what Alibert expected her to. That question had forced her to keep her mind off her own insecurities and to focus on something else, which in turn helped her calm down, as evidenced by the fact that her breaths were no longer shallow and her tears had subsided. 

“Well, I remember being taken aback when I first met Prince Armand. Don’t get me wrong, I could tell he greatly cares for his kingdom and takes his duty and position as future king very seriously. It's just…” She bit her bottom lip, weighing her words carefully. “Maybe he takes it a little too seriously? Believe me when I say not even Father himself is as formal as he was, and he seemed to be especially guarded when it came to Yugo and the Council. But I guess that’s to be expected.” She shrugged. 

“And then there was King Oakheart…” The doll trailed off, her mind going back to the first time she was face-to-face with the current leader of her father’s followers and the greatest treasure he could have given to the World of Twelve—its forests. She wouldn’t have been able to keep her lips from curling into a smile at the memory even if she had wanted to. “It was plain to see that the Sadida are in good hands. My father must be incredibly pleased to know his people and forests are protected by such a wonderful man.”

“I’m sure he is.” Alibert agreed as he handed a napkin to the doll to dry her tears with. “I must admit I haven’t had the ‘pleasure’,” even if he hadn’t air-quoted the words, the tone of his voice would have been enough to understand he was being sarcastic, “of being formally introduced to the world’s leaders.”

“Sometimes, dealing with the mayors and figureheads of the communities we visited was bad enough.” Ruel chimed in with a roll of his eyes. 

“Right.” Alibert nodded. Then, he turned back to an expectant Amalia. “But I will say this, out of all the kings and queens, and princes and princesses their travelling subjects have talked about around me, everyone seemed to agree King Oakheart is clearly the best leader they could ever ask for. Which doesn’t surprise me, as that man seems to embody Sadida values through and through.”

Perking up at that last part, Amalia tilted her head to the side, intrigued. As a Sadida herself, technically, she was well-acquainted with the commandments the Leafy God’s disciples were supposed to follow, which she did without fail. Still, judging by the way the innkeeper said that, she had the feeling he wasn’t actually referring to the king’s pious nature. 

“I suppose the ruler of the Sadida Kingdom must possess a powerful link and respect for nature…” She chuckled, scratching her cheek sheepishly. She let out a squeak when the chef just shook his head good-naturedly. 

“If you ever get the chance to go to the Sadida Kingdom, my Lady, I suggest you take it. You see, I have never been there myself, but I have served enough Sadida their food to believe I have quite a good grasp when it comes to understanding what makes them tick.”

“What makes them tick…?” Amalia repeated, blinking slowly. ‘Tick’ as in, like a Xelor?

He nodded. “That’s right. From what I’ve gathered, Sadida are easily amongst the most easy-going and laid-back races populating this world. Most of them aren’t concerned with fleeting, shallow things like fame and fortune, rather, they prefer to keep their feet firmly on the ground and add their two kamas by helping preserve what they consider to be the greatest gift of all…”

“Nature.” Amalia finished for him, the answer so ingrained into her, it left her mouth before she so much as had time to register what she said.

Alibert chuckled as he handed another order over to one of his waiters. “Precisely.” His expression, while it never lost its levity, gained a new, meaningful edge. “However, just because they’re peaceful and know how to appreciate the small things in life, that does not mean they are pushovers, for all Sadida are born with one purpose: to protect the forests of the world and their loved ones.

“Your people are nature-lovers, Lady Amalia, that much is undeniable. But it’s precisely because they love nature so much that they’re willing to become fearsome warriors in order to protect it. And, from what I gathered, that attitude also extends to their royal family.”

This time, it was Ruel who spoke, his voice laced with a conviction and thinly-veiled disdain that was odd in him, especially when it had nothing to do with having lost money. “Many other royals will use their position to justify having others do their dirty work for them, all the while they act as nothing more than paperpushers, at best, or self-serving despots far more concerned with indulging in their own debauchery than fulfilling their actual duties, at worst. But not the Sheran Sharms.”

“The Sheran Sharms aren’t just leaders, they are warriors. To be a Sadida is to be a warrior. And no Sadida would ever allow for anyone to look down on them just because their own ferocity isn’t immediately obvious as compared to Iop, Cra, or Sacrier.” Alibert finished for his old friend, before his hazel gaze settled back on the Divine Doll staring at him almost as if he had burst open the gates to Inglorium with his bare hands. His gaze was almost as piercing as what he said next. “Lady Amalia, you are Sadida’s Doll and, therefore, warrior blood runs through your veins. You should feel as proud of yourself as you feel about your people. It’s the least you all deserve.”

The Divine Doll felt her heart stop at his words, before it started pumping blood again, this time, with an intensity that was carried all over her body. It was like pure electricity coursing through her system, motivating her to move past her own weakness and make her father and their people proud. She needed to become stronger. She could become stronger. If her people, mortal as they were, faced each challenge head on in the name of what they believed in, so could she. She just needed to work on herself and to never give up. 

She could do this. She would do this. For Yugo and his people. For Sadida and his worshippers. For herself. It was high time she faced her own demons and learned to vanquish them, and this time, nothing, not even a powerful dragon with a bone to pick with her, would get in her way. 

Such was the excitement she felt at the moment, her emotions overwhelming her, the Sadida Doll didn’t even register the single tear that was streaming down her face until a voice she knew and adored called out to her, concern dripping from every syllable:

“Amalia, why are you crying?! Did something happen?”

With a small gasp of surprise she looked to the side just in time to see Yugo closing the distance between them and kneeling on the floor to reach out to her, the stools standing in the way be darned. When his hand cupped her cheek and he lovingly wiped the stray tear down her cheek away with his thumb, she immediately regretted the fact that his hands were currently bandaged by that dark cloth. She longed for his warmth, so much so, she couldn’t keep herself from leaning into his touch. 

“Amalia…” 

He uttered her name with such gentleness and tender concern for her, the doll’s heart constricted violently in her chest. Her hand came into contact with his, her own thumb rubbing circles on the back of it. 

“I’m fine, Yugo. I’m fine.” She didn’t know where she found the conviction that was imbued into her voice, but she wasn’t about to look a gift Dragoturkey in the mouth. If she began to question it, she feared she’d end up spilling everything to Yugo, even when she and Nora had already agreed it’d be best to leave him in the dark so as to not worry him. Just this once.

His brows knitted together in deep concern, Yugo flashed a furtive, questioning glance towards the old Enutrofs watching the interaction, his eyes narrowing when all they did was shake their heads and shrug innocently. Too innocently. It was clear they at the very least had an inkling on what had been troubling Amalia lately, yet they refused to divulge the information. 

On the one hand, the Eliatrope was glad those two were proving to be trustworthy enough not only to him and Adamaï, but to Amalia as well. She really needed some more people she could count on in this world. But on the other hand, he couldn’t help the clenching of his jaw at their secrecy. Today’s visit was supposed to help Amalia take her mind off her worries, not bring them back full force only to still push him away when all he wanted to do was help her!

Just as his eyes were beginning to glow blue from frustration, the doll’s sweet voice brought him back to the present. “Yugo, please. I’m serious, I’m okay. You have nothing to worry about, I swear. Come on, Ruel was about to tell us that joke about how he was married once.”

How could she say that so nonchalantly? How could she ask him not to worry about her? Didn’t she know that, ever since she arrived, something deep inside him stirred whenever it came to her? That her safety and well-being were always at the forefront of his mind? How did she expect him to not grow concerned when something was clearly wrong yet she still refused to confide in him what it was? When his heart thudded so painfully at the mere thought?

“Please?” She insisted, a sweet smile curling at her lips, and his heartbeat became more erratic. 

He let out a heavy sigh, accepting defeat. “Alright.” He offered his own smile in return. 

As they listened on to Ruel’s tale about his wife—an even more intrepid and cunning Enutrof than him called Arpagone, apparently—, and they lost themselves in their own laughter at the sheer impossibility of the old miser ever getting married, the two demigods placed one hand over the table, next to each other. And if they noticed how, at some point during the story, their fingers brushed against each other and grew closer until their fingertips intertwined, neither said a word. 

.......................................................................................................................

This time, it was Amalia who had to excuse herself. Only, instead of going to the restroom, with Alibert’s reluctant permission, she was buzzing around the restaurant accompanied by Toto, Matou, and Tomato, who were practically drooling over her. Seriously, their boss had had to warn them about getting spit on the food about four times already. 

As the Enutrof observed their interactions, especially the way they followed her around like a bunch of lovesick puppies, Alibert couldn’t help but groan. He brought two fingers to his face and pinched his nose. He honestly should have seen it coming. Not only because of the boys’ entranced reaction the moment they first laid their eyes on the doll, but also because of how they acted when they approached her. 

They’d been deep in conversation, with Amalia trying to explain the fact that, no, Sadida didn’t sleep the day away because they were lazy, but because they were in a deep meditative state as they connected to nature, when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Blinking in surprise, she turned around on her stool, only to find herself face-to-face with the nervous, flushed faces of the three young men working for Alibert. If it weren’t because he knew this would negatively impact their effectiveness at their jobs, the Enutrof would have found the way they rubbed the back of their neck, and stammered, and tugged at their collars nervously as they shyly requested a little bit of the demigoddess’ time amusing. 

As it were, however, the irritated twitch of his eyebrow at the seventh complaint begged to differ. Although, as he laid his eyes on the green-haired doll as she fluttered around, her eyes glimmering in curiosity at everything the boys showed her, Alibert couldn’t really blame them. Perhaps Amalia wasn’t his type—and not just because he was old enough to be her father—, but he still could tell when a woman was beautiful. And Amalia was absolutely gorgeous, a kind of wild beauty whose only reasonable explanation was its divine nature. And the way most men and several women would ogle at her as she passed by their side was testament enough of that. 

Although perhaps the biggest piece of evidence was Yugo’s own reaction to the way Amalia unintentionally brought attention to herself. That, too, would be amusing if it weren’t so scary. 

The Eliatrope King was sitting on his own stool, his back to the counter and his arms spread wide at his sides. He was drumming the index finger of his right hand against the wooden board, the action following a furious rhythm that had Alibert on edge, afraid that it might end up piercing through the wood. His brown eyes, focused and unblinking, were currently narrowed in on Matou as he tried to shower Amalia with compliments, though they would immediately change targets if anybody else got too close to the doll or stared at her for too long for his liking. 

Alibert flinched, pulling a face, when Toto leaned to close into Amalia’s personal space, until the two of them were practically flush against each other. He had to bite down a whine when the scowl on Yugo’s face deepened and the first crackles of blue energy made their presence known. 

He honestly didn’t know if Ruel opening his big mouth was a blessing or a curse. 

“Didn’t take you for the jealous type, Yugo.”

The change was instantaneous. One second, the king’s furious gaze was on the scene unfolding in front of him, and the next, he turned to scowl at the old miser. His frantic eyes were wide even as his scowl deepened. It was a little unnerving, if he was being honest with himself. 

“I am not jealous.” Yugo growled. 

“Really?” Ruel arched an eyebrow, amused and seemingly ignoring his best friend’s signs to shut up on purpose. “Then what do you call overzealously watching Amalia’s every move as all eyes are drawn to her?” He chuckled when the Eliatrope’s face twitched at his accusation, before pointing at it. “Or that?”

“I’m not jealous.” Yugo huffed, turning back around to face the restaurant and crossing his arms almost petulantly, his poncho rustling with his movements. “I’m just worried about Amalia, that’s all.”

“C’mon, my boy. She’s a Divine Doll. Pretty sure she can handle herself just fine against some hungry customers…” Ruel insisted with a dismissive wave of his hand, though he recoiled a bit when Alibert sent him a warning glare. 

“It wouldn’t be the first time she was on the receiving end of an admirer’s unwanted advances, unable to stop it…” He spat out, his vision darkening momentarily as memories of Harebourg’s hands tightly gripping the poor doll’s wrist and her terrified face flashed through his mind. 

The Enutrofs shared a look at that piece of information. It didn’t take them long to piece everything together. Could it be that was the reason why Amalia had confessed she felt unworthy of her position, because she had been unable to stop something like that from happening?

While that would indeed explain a lot of things, it still wasn’t enough to shed some light to Yugo’s own behaviour. Alibert knew from his and Adamaï’s various visits that, despite his laid-back and jovial attitude, Yugo was actually fiercely protective of those he cared about, namely his family and subjects. Now, it was plain to see that the same courtesy extended to Amalia, too. However, that couldn’t be all there was to it. 

When he had seen the tears streaming down the doll’s face, the king’s voice was tinged with deep concern as he all but begged her to tell him what was bothering her. And when the Sadida beauty insisted everything was fine, not only didn’t the concern subside, but it was accompanied by frustrated resignation and ill-concealed pain. It was like watching the boy’s heart tear itself open as he pleaded with Amalia to let him in. 

It was clear to see from his intense scrutiny of her that those worries didn’t just go away just because they partook in some more friendly conversation and funny anecdotes. If anything, they had come back full force. 

Eyes narrowing in suspicion, Alibert tried a different approach. 

“Leave the boy alone, Ruel.” He nudged his best friend, who flashed him a confused look. He mouthed ‘Let me handle this’ to him, to which he nodded. “It’s only natural to look after the people you care about.”

Yugo nodded. “Exactly. Thank you, Alibert.”

“Especially when you’re in love with them.”

It was like a record being scratched, the tension in the atmosphere so thick you could cut it with a knife. The silence, deadly. Ruel, his jaw millimetres away from touching the floor, was pulling at the remaining hair he had in utter disbelief, while Yugo’s whole body had stiffened. Even if he had his back to them still and his poncho draped over his shoulders, there was no mistaking his tense posture nor the death grip he had on the wooden counter. Alibert swore he heard how the wood splintered under his fingertips. 

The fact that his voice sounded even at all was honestly impressive. “Alibert, I’m not in love with Amalia.”

A small smirk stretched itself over the Enutrofs lips. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure!” Yugo hissed, his face scrunched up in frustration. He had turned around on his stool so fast, Ruel was actually expecting the force to propel his spin for a little while longer. His grip on the counter was too strong, apparently. 

“Then why are you so worried about her?” Alibert countered as he wiped a mug clean. He nodded towards the doll and her admirers. “You know those three; they might not resist a pretty girl, but they’d never even think about laying a finger on her. And considering Amalia came with you…”

The rest of that sentence went unspoken, but that didn’t mean Yugo didn’t know exactly what the chef meant by that. Even if Matou, Toto, and Tomatou would never hurt a girl to begin with, the fact that Amalia was with him was proof enough that doing so would be extremely ill-advised. His lips pursed into a thin line, he averted his gaze, his fingers drumming on the counter rhythmically as he debated with himself.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally sighed. 

“I’m not jealous.” He repeated for a third time, and even Ruel knew better than to try to contradict him at this point. “But I am concerned. I don’t know why she was crying when I came back from the bathroom,” his brown eyes momentarily flickered towards theirs, giving them one last chance to come clean, but the Enutrofs remained silent, “but something’s definitely wrong. She’s been weird for days, barely eating, not saying much, constantly spacing out… 

“This is the first time in days she’s been back to her old self. Something clearly happened, but whenever I ask her about it, she either insists everything is fine or changes the subject, and it’s driving me crazy!” His fists clenched tightly, the action highlighted by the bandages he wore, threatening to tear at the seams. The rigidness in his shoulders and arched back belied the tension in the air. “Doesn’t she know by now all I want to do is help her? Does she trust me so little?”

Eyes widening slightly at his admission, both Enutrofs exchanged one last look and a nod. Without hesitation, Alibert reached out and placed a hand on the Eliatrope King’s shoulder, urging him to look at him. 

“Yugo, why did you decide to bring Amalia here today?”

Yugo blinked blankly, taken aback by the abrupt change in topic. He answered honestly nonetheless. “It was Ad’s idea. He suggested the best way to help Amalia right now might be to just take her mind off of whatever’s been troubling her.”

“I see. That was smart of Ad.”

Yugo nodded absentmindedly. 

“And, tell us, boy,” This time, it was Ruel who spoke, leaning closer to him. “Would you say your little strategy’s working so far?”

Brow furrowing at his question, the Eliatrope King quickly turned his head around to look for Amalia. When he found her, he couldn’t help the giddy fluttering in his chest or the warmth bubbling up in his stomach at the sight before him. 

Amalia was currently talking to Alibert’s employees—which caused a certain level of irritation to flare up within the Eliatrope, especially given the lovestruck look on their faces—, but as she did so, that wonderful smile of hers that he found so hard to resist, that smile that had been rare to see for the past few days, was finally back on her face. The doll was chatting animatedly with whomever would listen, which included several of Alibert’s patrons who seemed to find her presence and curiosity endlessly refreshing. She would laugh, and clasp her hands in excitement, and her eyes would glimmer in child-like wonder. And if any of them got too cocky, she would simply roll her eyes with a smirk and sass them back in their place. 

The sight alone was enough to fill him with an inexplicable feeling of peace, bliss emanating from his every pore as his previous anxieties left his body. 

That was the Amalia he had been desperately looking for. The one he had longed for these past few days. The Amalia who would spend hours talking to him about every topic under the sun. The Amalia who would blow him away whenever she showed him what she could do, or just by being herself. The Amalia who, just by watching him train as intently as she did, always managed to make him feel like the most important person in the Krosmoz. 

The Amalia he knew and loved. 

The realisation hit him like a tonne of bricks. 

Eyes wide and heartbeat racing from the revelation, the blood rushing to his ears as his whole body flushed, Yugo almost didn’t hear Alibert when he said:

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to help; on the contrary, it shows you care. But, sometimes, the best way to help is not by doing what we think is right and intervening, but by simply being there as we let the other person take care of their business themselves.”

“Maybe Amalia isn’t ready to tell you what’s on her mind just yet,” Ruel continued, taking a swig out of his drink as he leaned back on his stool, one leg over his other knee. “But I’m sure she will one day. You just gotta be patient, Yugo.”

“And don’t beat yourself up like that.” Alibert scolded him gently, his hands bawled at his hips as he flashed the Eliatrope a mock-warning glare. “I’m pretty sure Amalia will agree with me that you’re doing more than enough just by trying to cheer her up.”

Both Alibert and Ruel rolled their eyes to themselves, thinking back to the doll’s own self-disparaging attitude from before. Dear Enutrof, those two were practically soulmates!

For his part, Yugo just remained quiet, his mind blown from those recent revelations about himself. Could it be true? Could he be in love with Amalia? He wasn’t so sure. He hadn’t really been looking for a relationship this current incarnation, especially with everything that happened with the Mechasms. And he would rather die than ask Qilby about his past love life only to have his infuriatingly observant brother needling him over the possibility of having fallen for Amalia. 

He was so lost in thought, he didn’t even register how his gaze had been set on Amalia this whole time. He was only broken out of his stupor when, just then, the doll sensed his eyes on her. Even as the people around her kept on conversing, the Divine Doll swivelled around just enough to face him more fully. She raised one dark-skinned hand to subtly wave at him as she flashed him a beaming smile that turned his insides to mush. 

His face scarlet as his heart threatened to burst out of his chest, Yugo awkwardly returned the wave and the smile, though he was sure his was much more dopey than charming. There was no escaping it now.

He was in love with Amalia. 

................................................................................................................

“That was so much fun!” Amalia exclaimed, having finally returned from following Matou, Toto, and Tomato around. “Alibert, your customers are the best. They were all so kind and interesting!”

The innkeeper chuckled fondly. “Why, thank you, my Lady. Hearing that from you makes this old mayor proud. I will make sure to let my citizens know they have your approval.”

“Please do, they deserve it.” She nodded with so much refinement despite the silliness of the situation, the Enutrof couldn’t help but chortle. She then turned to her close friend, “Yugo, you were right. The Crispy Gobball Inn is the best restaurant in Emelka!”

“Told you so.” He smiled back at her.

However, there was something different in Yugo’s expression. Even though Amalia had come to know and deeply appreciate each and every one of the faces the Eliatrope King was capable of pulling, this one in particular managed to tug at her heartstrings in ways no other had ever done before. There was this softness, this tenderness, in his gaze that made her insides burn, the fire rising up to her cheeks. The sweet grin that stretched over his lips was small, yet it captured so much more than anything else the doll had ever seen. But she couldn’t pinpoint just what made his current expression so special. 

All she knew is that when Yugo looked at her like that, he made her feel like she was the most important person in the world—in his world. And she found she rather liked that. She just wished she knew what caused it. 

The spell he had her under was broken by the sound of Ruel clearing his throat. “If you really liked it that much, Amalia, then don’t forget to leave a generous tip for the meal. Old Alibert here will appreciate it.” He winked mischievously at her while he jabbed his thumb in the innkeeper’s direction. 

“Don’t listen to him, Lady Amalia.” Alibert waved him off dismissively. “The pleasure of your company was payment enough. This one’s on the house, don’t worry.” He sent her a wink of his own and a winning smile, causing the doll to giggle cutely while Ruel looked like he’d been personally affronted.

“Excuse me?!” He all but bellowed. He raised to his feet and slammed his hands down on the counter demandingly. “Are my ears playing tricks on me, or did you just say they don’t have to pay for their food, even though you’ve been pestering me about paying for years?”

“That’s precisely the point, old friend.” Alibert shot back, not missing a beat. “This is the first time Lady Amalia comes to my restaurant; I can afford not charging her once or twice. You, on the other hand, have been eating for free for about two decades. Seriously, if I had a kama for every time you skipped out on paying, you would have paid off your bet by now!”

As the two old friends went back and forth with their usual bickering, Yugo and Amalia exchanged a look, before they both dissolved into a fit of snickers at their childish antics despite their advanced age. Just then, Yugo was about to speak when the roar of thunder in the distance caught his attention, the ears of his hat perking up as he registered the sound, on high alert. 

It looked like those clouds he’d seen earlier were about to finally let loose the downpour. Which meant it was time they returned home. 

He turned to the Divine Doll. “Amalia, I think we should go home.”

She let out a disappointed whine. “Awww, already? But we’re having so much fun!”

He flashed her a sad smile. “I know. But if we don’t hurry up, we might find ourselves in the middle of the storm, soaked to the bone.” Although he still didn’t know if Divine Dolls had bones to begin with. 

The small pout remained on Amalia’s face for a little while longer, until it melted into resignation as she let out a heavy sigh when she finally registered the howling winds coming from outside. “Okay, I suppose you’re right.”

“Oh, leaving already?” Alibert said, perking up when the two of them got up from their stools. 

“Yeah, we have a bit of a walk before we can make it home and we wouldn’t like to get caught up in the rain.” Yugo explained. 

“Well, if that’s the case, don’t let me keep you!” The kindly innkeeper said, before clasping both hands on the Eliatrope’s shoulders. “And come more often, you know I love your visits.”

Yugo chuckled, his own smile widening as he brought Alibert into a hug. “I’ll try. You still have to teach me all your cooking secrets, after all!”

“Word of the wise, when it comes to bread, ask anyone but Alibert for help.” Ruel chimed in, standing up as well to bid them goodbye. “These old bones have no equal in the kitchen, but bread’s always been his Achilles’ Heel.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. See you later, Ruel.” Yugo told the old man while Alibert shot a dirty look at his best friend. Then, the former settled his gaze back on Amalia and his expression softened. 

“Well, my Lady, it’s been a pleasure having you in my humble establishment.” He told her honestly, a genuine smile on his lips. “Next time His Majesty decides to deem us with his presence, if you feel up to it, don’t hesitate to tag along.” He finished with a wink. 

Amalia giggled, waves of affection for this wonderful man coursing through her veins. 

“Will do, Alibert. I promise.” Then, she took him by surprise when she threw herself into his arms to hug him tightly. “Thank you for everything, really.”

The chef caught the hidden meaning of her words and grinned widely, returning the hug. “Anytime, Amalia. Anytime.”

When she broke off the hug, she turned to Ruel and offered him a polite bow. “It was great to meet you, too, Ruel. Thank you so much for telling me all about your adventures.”

“Next time you come around, I’ll tell you about the time I met a young Osamodas who swore she used to work as Kérubim Crepin’s cleaning lady.” He promised with a wink. 

“I’m looking forward to it.” She giggled.

“Amalia, are you ready?” Yugo asked her, leaning closer to her with his poncho open, directing her attention to the pocket she’d been in earlier. To be honest, the main reason he suggested she transformed again was because, judging from the sound of rain drops coming from outside, it had already began to rain, and he knew the doll wouldn’t appreciate running under the rain and wetting wet, nor going through one of his portals just to reach the Zaap at the outskirts of town. 

Her gaze trailing down to the pocket and back to his face, Amalia nodded, understanding it was for the best. With a hum, she disappeared behind a puff of smoke and reappeared in her rag doll form, which caused Ruel’s jaw to drop as his eyes flickered back and forth between her and a nonchalant Alibert. 

“If you think that’s shocking, you should see how she changes back into her other form.”

After scooping Amalia up and placing her inside his pocket, Yugo hastily waved them goodbye and thanked them for everything one last time before going out of the door. With the two demigods gone, Ruel plopped back down in his seat and shook his head with the certainty of someone who knew what he was talking about. 

“How long do you think it will take them to realise they love each other?”

Alibert smiled, leaning on the counter and closer to his old friend. “I think they’re getting there. Sparks flew whenever their eyes met.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Ruel agreed, shrugging. “I’m just saying, they seemed to be firmly in the Denial stage of their relationship.”

“Give them time. You can’t rush these things. Although…” He trailed off, his lips twitching into a playful smirk. “I wonder if Yugo’s noticed he carries Amalia right next to his heart.”

The two of them shared a laugh over that. They already had a very good feeling the next time those two walked through the door, it’d be hand-in-hand and with good news to share.

 Alibert’s smirk dropped into a stern expression when he noticed the way his customers kept gaping at the place Yugo and Amalia had occupied until recently, clearly in disbelief at the sight of a living, breathing Divine Doll. And one that had been talking to them just a few moments ago, at that. 

“If any of you speaks a word of any of this to anyone, I’m raising your taxes.” Alibert threatened, his tone serious and no-nonsense. With that, everyone flinched and turned back to their own meals and conversations, acting like nothing happened. 

The old innkeeper couldn’t help but smirk in satisfaction. Being the mayor had its perks, sometimes. 

........................................................................................................................

Yugo gently deposited Amalia back down on her balcony, letting go of her waist while he kept holding her hand as he did so. Normally, he would have just teleported them there, but he figured, since she already knew he could fly—although she didn’t know how—, there was no harm done in taking the scenery route. Besides, even though she seemed to have no trouble when it came to Zaap Portals, he didn’t have the heart to make her sick right as they returned home. 

“What a day!” Amalia said as she stretched, her arms up as her back let out an audible pop! “No wonder you love that place so much, Yugo. Alibert is really the best.”

“Yeah, I’m really lucky to have met him. And he’s right, though, I should get Adamaï to visit soon, too.”

“Well, next time you go to Emelka, let me know. No way I’m staying here and letting you two have all the fun!” Amalia placed her hands on her hips as she leaned forward, her voice dripping with mock sternness as she pretended to reprimand the king. 

Knowing this, Yugo just raised his palms up with a smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” It was his turn to lean in closer in a stage whisper. “Though between you and me, something tells me Alibert would cook me alive if I didn’t bring you with us next time.”

The doll shrugged, a smirk on her lips. “Well, since he couldn’t cook Adamaï last time…”

The two of them managed to hold their laughter in for all of two seconds, before they couldn’t take it anymore and broke down cackling at the poor dragon’s expense. Without the need for words, they agreed that would be their own little inside joke. Adamaï would not take it well if he learned they were laughing at his misfortune behind his back. 

Still holding her stomach, which ached from laughing so much, the doll wiped a tear off her face and smiled up at the Eliatrope. “I had so much fun today, Yugo. Thank you so much for taking me to Emelka. I… I really loved it.”

“You’re very welcome, Amalia.” Yugo’s own smile morphed into a concerned expression, his eyebrows furrowed as he regarded her intently. He had to ask. “Are you feeling better now?”

Amalia was about to deny ever feeling bad when the sincerity and hope in his eyes stopped her in her tracks. His gaze was practically begging her to be honest with him, to finally open up about the insecurities and troubles plaguing her mind ever since her last encounter with Efrim. And though a part of Amalia wanted nothing more than to tell him exactly what happened, another, louder part of herself reminded her of her promise to Nora. 

Not only did they agree learning the truth would needlessly worry Yugo and cause conflict between him and Efrim, which was the last thing the Eliatropes needed at the moment, for the Council of Six to be anything but a united front, but Amalia was beginning to think it truly was for the best from a diplomatic standpoint. She already had Efrim against her, she couldn’t afford to lose Nora’s support as well by betraying her trust. If she wanted to fulfil her role as efficiently as possible, she needed to have as many members of the Council of Six on her side as she could. 

Then there was the fact that, needlessly harsh and cruel as he had been, there was no denying the young dragon had been right when he accused her of relying too much on Yugo. As much as she appreciated his help, as much as she appreciated him, it was about time the doll learned to stand on her own two feet. And her conversation with Alibert and Ruel had been very enlightening in that regard. 

She was Sadida’s eleventh doll, and their people were fearless warriors. As such, she would do everything in her power to become worthy of the Sadida’s admiration and trust, as well as the Eliatropes’. And, thanks to Alibert, she finally had an idea on how to achieve that. That alone made her feel much better about herself and more confident in her own abilities. Because she now had a purpose. 

Perhaps that was also the reason why she found herself emboldened enough to do what she did next. 

Exhaling through her nose calmly, Amalia stood up on her tippy toes and reached forward, coming to place a kiss on the corner of Yugo’s lip. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard how his breath hitched at the contact. 

Breaking away from him, she smiled widely up at his awestruck expression, wider and more honestly than she had done so in days. “Yes, Yugo. I’m feeling much better now, thank you. And I think I’ll go to talk to Glip and Baltazar in the morning.”

[spacetimeaccordionfolder]

My brain's been trying to make a Namesake au for Aurora Comic but it doesn't quite fit or keeps just becoming a crossover instead. The main issue is that I keep trying to make everyone keys or writers and no one just regular magic users or namesakes. I don't think we know any of the stories of Aurora, unless we're counting tales of the gods and the primordials, so it's hard to think about namesakes.

If we are translating the gods of Aurora as Muses or similar beings from Namesake then Kendal could be a Key, with Vash being used, like how Ozma and Dorthy were used to make Emma. The citizens of Vash would be like Emma's story archives. However, because of sword cool part of my brain wants to say Kendal's a heart soldier, like Fred, who was given a name possibly by Vash, who would be a very powerful magic user or Writer, or Alinua. Alternatively, Kendal's starmetal could become vorpal in the world of Namesake- but that raises the question about Vash's body being vorpal- what would Vash have been such that he left behind a vorpal body? A muse? A key that was locked away whose body decided to get up and walk- that would put Vash as the SB to Kendal's Emma.

In the instance of Alinua giving Kendal a name, Alinua could be a Key, with the chimeric plague being similar to how keys become unstable- a la Peter Pan or Adora. Alinua being a descendant of a former key could also work- think like Warrick and Selva- or perhaps a witch or a more Crafting focused writer.

Erin is another one my brain goes "KEY" because elemental magnus but I feel like if Erin is a Key he's more of an Emma 6 situation with Shadow arm? or Perhaps akin to Jekyll and Hyde? I mean Void = Shadow or One so hmm. I don't think it would be fair to Erin to say he would be just a shadowling. If he isn't a Key then he's definitely a writer at least. Perhaps we just say he's a warlock who a shadow is trying to mess with.

Tess could be a magic user, perhaps a card soldier like Mountain, with Sparking being akin to Elaine writing that she wished she could understand Fred- perhaps Erin as a young writer wrote something similar and poof! Tess. Alternatively Tess could be a magic user, perhaps with some giant blood?

I have basically no clue for Dainix or Falst. Part of me wants to say that Falst could be a vorpal smith? Dainix might just be a warlock or possibly a namesake of an Ignan story?

The Void Dragon could be another weird shadow like One/ Hyde, with the Light Dragon and the primordials/ stars being Muses.

I am unsure of who else would know both Namesake and Aurora. That just means I get to introduce people to comics I like!

[blitzendoggo]

O' Lily of My Valley

Glib has seen his love grow old too many times, he just wishes there was a way to keep him around.

Goodbid/Glib (3583 words) TW: Lots of Death Talk

~~

Glib is old. Not physically, he stopped aging a millennia ago, but mentally.

He’s seen cities rise and fall, walked the streets of plague-ridden villages, and held the hands of dying soldiers who were shot in a war they never wanted to fight. He’s known the corrupt rulers who are too arrogant to fear death, the coughs of children too young to understand what it truly means to die, and young men who call out for their mother on their death bed, only to meet him. He’s buried everyone in his family, all the people he grew up with, and all of their kids several times over.

He was the first to become a God, and he was just unlucky enough to become the permanently immortal God of Death, doomed to walk Vontral alone.

Except he’s not quite alone.

Sure, there’s Callum, the insane God of Dreams, but there is also a certain half-elf mortal who gets reincarnated every 200 years, and always seems to come back with an infatuation with death.

“Those are bad for you, you know,” Glib says as he pulls his hood off his head, his brown hair falling limply in front of his deep green eyes while he steps out of the darkness from beside the man. The setting sun casts long shadows across the buildings, giving an ethereal, almost spooky look.

“So you’ve said,” the mustached man says nonchalantly. He’s leaned against a brick building in Bowenburg, watching the mostly empty streets while blowing smoke from a cigar that hangs loosely from his lips. His eyes stay transfixed on the unaware people in front of them, unbothered. He knew Glib would come to him.

The god scowls as he grabs the cigar from his mouth and puts it in his own, sliding to stand next to the taller man. The smoke fills his mouth and floods his airless lungs before he lets it slowly seep from his mouth like a dragon. “I mean it, it’ll fucking kill you,” he growls.

“Death doesn’t scare me,” he says cheekily.

“I should,” Glib says snappily. “Most people are fuckin’ terrified of me.”

“Well, I’m not most people, now am I?” he shoots back, mirth twinkling in his coal-black eyes.

For a moment, Glib considers telling him everything, the reincarnations, the old love, the lifelong relationships, all of it, but he stops. “No, no you aren’t,” he settles on instead.

“Besides,” the half-elf begins slowly, grabbing the cigar back from the god, “An early death just means eternity with you sooner.”

“Goodbid,” Glib growls, though all his previous names sit heavy on his tongue. Lawrence is always the first to come to his mind because it was the first, followed by Naethan, Plutos, and Milburn, but this time it’s Goodbid. Johnny B. Goodbid. “You’d be with me for eternity anyway, why are you fuckin’ wasting the time you have among your friends and family.”

“My family won’t talk to me no more, not since I began workin’ in your bidness,” Goodbid brushes off easily. “And Mr. Goodbid works alone, I ain’t got friends other than Death himself.”

Glib growls, but knows there’s no way to convince the half-elf. There never is. “Why are you here anyway? Aren’t your stomping grounds Riftreach and east of it?”

“Yeah, but I heard a rumor of this dope ass horse that walks the town at night.” The taller looks at him with a cheesy grin. “And I want him.”

“Her,” Glib corrects, “And you can’t be serious, you came all the way out here to try to catch a horse?”

“What? I’m a man of style and that white horse is stylin’!” Goodbid jokes. He snuffs the end of his cigar on the brick wall as the sun disappears over the horizon.

“Let me get this straight, your plan is to what? Stake out here until a pretty white pony comes prancing through town and then you are going to try and what? Catch her?” he questions, his irritation at the plan slipping into his words.

He has to admit that it does sound like something that he would do.

Every iteration of him always loved horses, and Milburn, the reincarnation before Goodbid, had a gorgeous brown and white horse that he lost on the coast just east of Bowenburg. The horse was given to him by his father the Friday before his death, so Milburn named her Friday and treated her like royalty, often better than he even treated himself, so losing her was the worst thing imaginable for him. For nearly ten full years, Milburn searched for that horse day and night, begging Glib every night to promise him that Friday hadn’t died yet and that there was still time. The search for her killed the half-elf, but the horse never did die. Well. The horse, unless she gained immortality through magical means, died sometime after Milburn, but Glib pointedly refused to check because an angry part of him would try to take his wrath out on an innocent horse who got spooked in the middle of the night and ran off.

Distantly, Glib wonders if Goodbid’s infatuation with this infamous white horse is the past echoing through him.

“Hey now,” the mustached man begins, bringing the shorter out of his train of thought, “I thought you promised me you ain’t a mind reader!”

“Goodbid,” Glib groans, using a bit of irritation to mask the fear that he would lose this reincarnation to horse hunting as well.

He laughs. “What? I think it’s an excellent plan, thank ya very much.”

The Death God levels a flat look at him before shaking his head and stepping back towards the shadows, drawing his hood up.

“She doesn’t come out until about two,” Glib explains. “You might want to sleep until then.”

Without hesitation Goodbid sits down in the alleyway with his back to the brick wall.

“What- no- I meant-” the Death God sputters.

“I ain’t gonna spend money on a bed if I’ll just have to kill the staff that sees me,” Goodbid, ever the penny pincher and hitman, reasons. “I ain’t exactly supposed to be in Bowenburg.”

“And the better option is to just sleep in the alleyway?” Glib questions, gesturing to the many ways that he could be spotted and captured.

Goodbid just smiles up at him. “But my guardian angel wouldn’t let that happen, would he?” he asks cheekily, already settling against the wall and closing his eyes.

“I’m not your fucking guardian angel!” the shorter retorts, but it doesn’t come out as hostile as he intended it to.

“Then why are you always here for me?” Goodbid questions, sleep edging into his voice.

Glib is silent for several minutes, as he watches the other’s chest rise and fall until it evens out into sleep before he answers. “Because you’ve always been here for me.”

Despite himself, the human mutters a small spell that would redirect anyone’s attention away from the alley, fulfilling his role as guardian angel as he settles against the opposite wall, alternating between watching the half-elf sleep and watching the empty streets of the college town.

A chill settles in the air after a while, causing Glib to drape his cloak over the sleeping man to keep him from shivering in his dreams before he tilts his head back and bathes in the cold air as it blows across his icy skin. He lets his eyes drift up to the sky and traces over the stars that have been named and renamed by every new generation of scholars.

He thinks about old times when he and Lawerence- no, it was Naethan then- used to star gaze. The half-elf would name the stars and constellations easily before asking Glib for their old names, and in every language the old god could think of.

He stares silently at the sky until his mind inevitably wanders into the song that seems to live within his brain.

“Lily, o’ lily of my valley won’t you stay the summer long?” he sings softly, remembering the first time he sang it to Goodbid.

“Fall leaves me tired and winter is cold without the sweet ring of your bells to keep my body warm.”

Although he had been Plutos at the time.

“Your lips are poison and your love leaves me dizzy, o’ lily of my valley, won’t you just kiss me?”

He had been so nervous to show him the words, worried he’d understand what it actually meant.

“Summer grows near, your time comes to an end, and until springtime, I can’t kiss you again.”

But Plutos was none the wiser.

“Lily, o’ lily of my valley can’t you stay this summer long?”

He had asked Glib to sing it to him whenever he was upset, like a lullaby.

“Lily, o’ lily of my valley, I will miss you while you’re gone.”

And he had it sung to him on his deathbed.

“Beautiful song,” Goodbid says groggily as he sits up, causing Glib to jump.

“Jesus!” he hisses.

“Nope, just Goodbid, but I’ll give it to ya, Mr. Death, you were pretty close,” Goodbid teases.

Glib swallows the uneasy feeling of being called “Mr. Death,” but it’s not like this Goodbid knows any better. Glib stopped telling them his name in hopes that one day he would remember on his own.

“What time is it, anyway?” the half-elf asks, stretching like a cat, the Death God’s cloak pooling in his lap as it falls off his shoulders. “Do I got time to catch a few more Z’s?”

Glib looks back to the sky, tracking the moon. “No, your internal clock was fucking spot on,” the Death God mutters. “It’s nearly 2 a.m. exactly.”

“Well, hot-diggity-dog!” he says with a manic grin. “Well, let’s get on movin’!” He stands up, straightening his clothes and mustache as he throws the cloak back over the short man.

“Mustache, do you even have a clue where you’re going?” Glib says as he steps out of the alley behind Goodbid.

“Not even a little,” he says as he weaves through the streets. “But I’m sure I’ll know it when I see it.”

“Goodbid,” Glib growls. “Tell me you actually have a-”

As if cued in by Glib’s annoyance, the sound of hooves clopping on the stone roads draws both their attention.

Before the Death God can stop him, Goodbid is racing towards the noise. The Death God follows close behind him, muttering swears in every language that he knows -which is all of them- as the tall man almost certainly runs headfirst into a guardsman on horseback.

They burst into a plaza, illuminated sparsely by floating magic lights, but standing in the center is a beautiful white horse with a long flowing mane that ends in electric green. She is larger than a normal horse and has an otherworldly calm about her. She stands patiently, white hair covering most of her eyes, before she turns and calmly trots away.

The pair stands gobsmacked for a little too long before Goodbid is back to running after her. A feeling washes over Glib that tells him something is amiss here. This horse has never allowed herself to be seen so clearly by anyone before, only flashes of white hooves and green tails trotting between streets. The fact that she let them see her leaves a funny taste in the old god’s mouth.

“Goodbid!” Glib hisses as he too runs after them. “Something isn’t right!”

“Not now, Death!” Goodbid whisper-shouts back. “We’re hot on her tail!”

Glib makes an annoyed sound but resolves to ignore his discomfort as they weave through the streets. They’re right behind her, step for step, and seemingly gaining on her, until they burst back into the open plaza from before, and the white horse is nowhere in sight.

“Damn it!” Goodbid swears. “I thought we had her!”

Glib scans the streets as he mutters, “This is probably for the best.”

Goodbid sighs dramatically. “Why can’t I have a snazzy horse?” he jokingly pouts, though Glib can spot the genuine disappointment in his face.

“Because I don’t think that was a normal horse,” Glib explains looking back up at the taller. “Trust me, something was up with her.”

“Well, now, I personally think a bounty hunter riding a ghost horse would be even cooler than a bounty hunter riding a pretty white horse-”

“Goodbid-”

Their little “argument” is cut short by the sound of hooves, though this time they are moving much faster and growing louder instead of softer.

The pair look around frantically before spotting the white horse barreling at them with her head low.

“Shit, shit, shit-” Glib screams as the massive horse hooks her head between Goodbid’s legs, throwing him onto her back and biting into the Death God’s cloak, lifting him easily off the ground.

A white and green mist forms around them as the horse continues barreling forward before in a flash of white -and a wave of nausea- they are suddenly somewhere else.

It resembles a weird amalgamation of Riftreach and Bowenburg, with the sleek style of Bowenburg buildings and the layout and height of Riftreach. The streets are impossibly clean and the sky is blindingly white, bathing the entire area in the same otherworldly glow that surrounds the horse.

Glib roars in anger, more at the audacity of the animal bringing them here than the fact that they are actually here. Thick black fog begins to billow from his cloak as his skin turns ghostly transparent, revealing his skeleton. His eyes become unearthly black as a sickly grey and poisonous purple swirl around his hands, but before he can fire off any of the spells he has, the horse drops him flat on his back.

“That will not be necessary,” the horse says, her voice carrying that same ethereal calm that surrounds her.

“You fucking talk?!” he shrieks, rage still boiling in his blood.

The horse gives him a flat look. “Yes, I am Friday, the Goddess of Fate, and I can talk.”

“Friday?” Glib echoes, bewildered. He stares expectantly at the horse for answers, but she offers none. Surely this can’t be the same horse, but the name is too convenient.

Goodbid awkwardly slides off her back and helps Glib stand up before half-hiding behind him. “Ms. Friday, this ain’t some kinda punishment for trying to catch you, is it? Because I didn’t know you were a sentient horse, and I do treat my horses quite well-”

“No, Mr. Goodbid, it is no punishment, I just needed to step in to make sure what needed to happen, happened,” she says to silence his ramblings.

“And how’d you reckon that?” Goodbid asks, a naturally curious man.

“Your vanity and love for horses would surely draw you to Bowenburg if you heard of an impossible-to-catch white horse,” she explains simply.

Goodbid is silent for a long moment before nodding slowly. “Well, now, I guess there’s no use in arguin’ with a goddess of fate now is there?”

Friday laughs, though it sounds more like church bells ringing. “No, no, there is not, I know what is fated to happen so I know what has already happened.”

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds about right,” Glib sighs.

“So, what are we here for then?” Goodbid questions. “You say you brought us here to make sure fate don’t change, but I don’t see much changin’.” He gestures around them before looking more closely for seemingly the first time. “And, uh, where is ‘here’?”

The goddess shakes her head. “Walk with me,” she says simply, as she begins trotting towards a large building at the end of the street.

“Well, you heard her,” Goodbid says after a moment of vaguely confused silence before he begins to march after her, Glib reluctantly following.

“This is a place known as the Order Realm,” Friday explains. “It is much like the Death Realm that your friend there comes from.” Goodbid looks at Glib before turning his attention back to the horse. “The Primordial of Order once lived here, but was killed by their creator, the Nothing. Butinstead of letting their power be destroyed, they and their seven siblings -in their respective realms- created thrones which would distribute power to any mortal who sits in them.”

They have reached a tall white cathedral with green and grey stained glass windows. Friday easily trots up the stairs and into the building, walking towards a strange-looking chair at the far side. It’s made of metal and gears with tubes full of green liquid running up and down the sides.

“The four possible powers of Order are Fate, taken by me; Peace, taken by an older God named Vaktaan; Knowledge, taken by a man named Aldor; and Law,” she stops speaking as she reaches the throne before looking at Goodbid. “Who is meant to be claimed by you.”

“Me?” Goodbid asks, stopping nearly ten feet away from the chair. “Why me?”

Friday gets a pensive look to her face, well, as pensive as a horse can be. She looks at Glib, but only for a moment before carefully saying, “Fate works in mysterious ways, and you are fated to be with another immortal.”

“Ain’t no way an immortal would choose to be with me,” the half-elf counters. “I’m just Mr. Goodbid.”

Glib snickers at that, earning a confused look from the taller. “You have no idea, do you, Bid?”

“Mr. Death, are you telling me that you’ve been holding information back from me?” Goodbid asks, sounding more betrayed than accusatory.

Friday steps in to save Glib needing to explain. “He has only withheld information that you would discover in due time, as you have every time.”

Goodbid stares at her for a long moment. “What do you mean ‘as you have every time’?”

“Sit on the throne and everything will become clear,” she says, gesturing at the chair with her head.

“Why should I trust you?” Goodbid counters, resting his palm on the hilt of his short swords. “You’ve done nothin’ but kidnap me and my friend and talk in damn riddles.”

“Goodbid,” Glib says. “Trust her, sit on the chair.”

“I thought you had a bad feelin’ ‘bout this!” The hitman snaps back.

Glib tries to stay calm as he explains. “I had a bad feeling because you came to catch a magic horse with no plan and we were actively being led into a trap to get us here.” They hold intense eye contact for another few seconds before Glib says, “You’ve said it yourself, you aren’t afraid of death.” Another few seconds of silence before the death god growls, “Sit on the throne.”

Goodbid looks between Glib, Friday, and the chair for another few seconds before hissing, “Fine, what’s the worst that can happen?”

He walks over to the throne with a clearly fake confidence and sits down on it, crossing his arms.

For about three seconds, nothing happens, but then the gears begin turning, and the sound of metal clicking rings through the air. The liquid in the tube swirls and pumps faster before metal arms on either side of the chair clasp down onto him. The room fills with blinding white and green light.

“What the shit?!” Glib yelps, stepping forward, mind racing on ways to get the half-elf free before all the noise comes to a stop, and the metal arms slowly retract.

Sitting in the chair is still the half-elf, though his suit is now white with a green tie and pinstripes. He looks around, mildly confused, flexing his hands as he tries to adjust to the increase of power.

“I’ll leave the two of you alone,” Friday says, as she turns and begins walking towards the doors at the far end. “You’ll have much to speak of.”

“So,” Glib says, drawing his attention to him once the horse is gone. The light of recognition dances in the taller’s eyes, yet it’s different from five minutes ago. “How do you feel?”

“Glib?” he says instead.

The human’s stomach drops, and butterflies erupt, the contrasting feelings nearly knocking him off his feet.

“No,” the death god says, deep in denial as hope blooms in his chest. “No fucking way you remember.”

The half-elf grins at him, though it’s not the typical smile of his persona. It’s a genuine smile that softens his eyes in a way that makes the human’s heart speed up and time slow down. “Glib Murphy,” he says slowly, as if savoring the way the name fits in his mouth. “I remember you- well, I remember everything, but most importantly, I remember you.”

“Lawrence?” Glib says quietly. The hope spreads like fire through his veins and settles like hot coals in his hands. He wants- no- needs to lay his hands on the half-elf, but he can’t bring himself to move, as if he is afraid that if he moves too quickly, or speaks too loudly, this moment will shatter and his Lawrence will return to being “Mr. Goodbid”.

“That’s the name, Mr. Murphy.” He holds open his arms as he adds, “And I hope you’ll wear it out.”

Glib’s legs are moving before his brain comprehends it, and he crashes headlong into the taller’s open arms.

“I swear to fucking god if you die and I lose you for another two-hundred fucking years-” Glib says into Lawerence’s new white suit.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere, Glib,” he soothes. “I’ll stay the summer long.”

[chvshire]

╰     ┈     [  saoirse ronan , 23 , cis!female , she/her ]  in the time of dragons , lelia lannister is entering the game of thrones . said to be ebullient + meddlesome we can only hope that is the case as regrettably they are also well known to be hasty + impracticable. when asked about them , people are always reminded of a scrunched-up piece of parchment showcasing the maps of westeros and many of its noble houses, a stack of books with torn out pages and ink spills from underlining significant meanings thrown across a messy room, and the soft hymn of the “rains of castamere” falling from her lips. though they are the lady of casterly rock , their true loyalties lie with house lannister and rumour has it that if given the choice they would support the prince of dragonstone above all else . those of us in the shadows wish them luck and can only hope they will survive what is to come . 

character parallels: eloise bridgerton (bridgerton), jane austen (hisorical figure), tyrion lannister, arya stark, & samuel tarley (got), scout finch (to kill a mockingbird), queen elizabeth i (historical figure), beth march (little women),  rupert giles (btvs), danielle de barbarac (ever after), joan of arc (historical figure), mary lennox ( the secret garden)

basic 

full name: lelia johanna lannister 

name meaning: lelia, italian origin meaning “well spoken”, johanna & herbew origin “god is gracious”

titles: lady of casterly rock, the roarless lioness

birthplace: casterly rock, the westerland, westeros  

birthdate: the 9th day of the 11th moon 394 a.c.

religion: the faith of the seven

orientation: bisexual 

status: unbethroted & unwed

languages: common tongue (fluent), high valyrian (learning) 

family 

parents: former ruling lady of casterly rock, former 

siblings (oldest - youngest): genna lannister, tommen lannister, cassian lannister, cerenna lannister 

extended family: the lannister of lannisport (uncle, aunt, and cousins) 

children: n/a. 

partner: n/a. 

background 

the fickle only love those who are worthy. in the case of lelia lannister, her love came from learning. being the youngest lioness from casterly rock, it is known that the lannisters excel in beauty, strength,  or money. the only aspect that lelia shares with her heritage is the money part. she’d considered herself to be ordinary compared to her nieces and sisters. she’d not excelled in strength either due to the fact that her personality was very naive compared to the courageous men and women of her family lineage.  

a babe was brought into this world on a crisp autumn evening after endless hours of labor. she’d been a frail and weak one compared to the likes of her house lannister name. growing up, lelia preferred the company of books over people. instead of dreading her history lessons with her septa, she embraced everything that she had to learn. she’d grew to love for the company of books instead of learning 

“a fool” was a common occurrence when describing the fickle thing. her infancy grew up being confined to a bed due to falling health. from her birth, lelia’s lungs were considered _incredibly _weak compared to that of her siblings. she’d have fevers that almost _took _her into the great beyond majority of her infancy. however, like her heritage something strong was built into her veins and she successfully broke the fever each time overcoming it. 

over the years, lelia developed the title “the roarless lioness” due to her timid and fickle personality. she hated conflict and was hard to find during tense conversation at casterly rock. a lion’s share of time she could be found in the company of her historic tales stuck in the casterly rock’s immense library. she found comfort in the tales of the targaryen family, she was captivated about the idea of owning a dragon and the thought drove her to endless dreams of wanting to become part of history. 

the thought plagued her as the notion of becoming a history maker. her family legacy thrived in the concept of **victory **and **triumph. **yet, the only longing leila had was that for academics. she’d believed that her family name could _get _her there, but the concept of being a women was retched to think..she was only **meant **to be wedded & bedded. she _wish _for a live to where she could instead travel, write the histories of westeros, and could have the **freedom she yearned for. **instead she aged, her dreams were the only think that made her seem reasonable as unrealistic as it seemed for a women--even a lannister one--she was just as roarless as they expected her to be. 

in the secrets of her thoughts, she held an oath to for a different life and a different allegiance she wouldn’t dare speak aloud to a soul. her thoughts only plagued herself--and those she kept close to her heart--but the lion could only be tamed so much..until they would fight back, right? 

[the-sprog]

So since I'm very bad at remembering my ideas, I'm gonna throw this out there and hope one day I'm like "WAIT didn't I have an idea for a fic??? What was it???" And I will find it on my tumblr.

It's about Danny Phantom, obviously.

There are actually two of them in here so:

The easiest one: Jack and Maddie are not stupid. I mean they're scientists, the use the scientific method. One of the things about the scientific method is that if you do a bunch of tests, based on an hypothesis and only one of them comes out disproving it, then your hypothesis is incorrect.

Phantom has disproved basically all of their hypothesis.

So, next thing to do? Create a new one. Do new tests. They take Jazz's suggestion and try and see if the ghosts of Amity are actually conscious. Because obviously they're sentient, but are they like animals? Or are they like robots with artificial intelligence?

Or even better yet, are they like humans?

They grab Phantom's attention and ask him if he would cooperate for this test. A simple Turing test. Obviously they're still wary because of everything that happened with him, and do the test with witnesses to keep both Phantom's and their minds at ease.

He passed the test. With flying colors.

They're shocked and ask him if he knew peaceful ghosts that would be willing to take the test (because, y'know. Scientific method. Need to try over and over again). Phantom would have to explain that not all ghosts are as human-like as him (as, first of all, he's a halfa, but he doesn't say that. And second, lots of them are blobs or animal-like ghosts), but cue his parents meeting Jhonny and Kitty (cause I like the idea that they have a truce with Phantom and that going out of the zone helps them with their couple problems), as well as Shadow (example of a less human-like ghost). Then Sidney, Dora, the Fright Knight (cause king ghost Danny ftw) and Frostbite.

They all pass, more or less. Some, like Dora, the light and Sidney, where given away by their choice of word, but other than that all of them passed the test.

OK SO MORE COMPLEX ONE:

I love crossovers. I love finding ways of putting the two universes together, of making them work with each other, adapting the rules so that they apply to both. (With Danny Phantom it's also really cool to just... Make him travel the multiverse. He doesn't adhere to the rules of where he goes to, so it's always hilarious. But we're not here for that now).

One of the best ones to do this with is My Hero Academia. Whenever a show has someone with powers I end up asking myself "how should that work in the world of my hero?" And start trying to incorporate it in the lore.

So, first thing first, we're getting rid of the canon story of my hero. Completely unrelated to the show. This takes place decades in the past, when the first people where developing quirks (so if I wanted to write something with this and actually use my hero characters, I'd make it so that they where hit with a time traveling quirk or that Clockwork was somehow involved).

The Fenton's hatred for ghosts? Make it discrimination against the people who have quirks.

Danny being half-ghost? His quirk's fault. He calls it Ghost, for simplicity, it allows him to come back as a sort of ghost-like creature after he dies. Somehow, one day, he doesn't die completely so his body fixes it the only way it know how. Making him partially ghost.

Obviously that would mean that all the ghosts he fights aren't ghosts anymore. They're villains with quirks, and their powers would be based on what they can do on the show, minus the basic intangibility, invisibility and flight.

Obviously only Sam and Tucker would know he was Phantom and he had a quirk, he's also kinda the only one in town with one. People would be a little racist against quirk havers, but the kids, like in the show, come around to it. And actually start loving Phantom and thinking of him as a hero.

How do I fit Vlad in all of this? Ehm ahhhh this is the one thing I didn't think about. Very basic, but could give him a power similar to Danny, were instead of a ghost, he becomes a vampire. But his quirk is caused by an accident in college, so it's artificial.

Why does Skulker (who doesn't have a quirk. He's just a guy in a suit) hunt Danny? He has a very unique quirk.

Does Dani exist? I mean. Yeah. Cloning is not so farfetched, especially with the existence of quirks.

Clockwork can control time, he involuntary does that being a child, then an adult then an old man thing. The Observants are people without quirks that keep him in check, an organization that made a pact with him to stay young forever or something in change of idk what. No idea what Clockwork would get out of it I won't lie. Money maybe? Or somehow they found a way of keeping him there against his will?

Walker (and I'll make a seperate post about this) is an ex guy in white. Yes they still exist, but they hunt quirk havers instead of paranormal stuff. Walker was kicked out because he actually has a quirk but lied about it. He's after his own kind in the show as well. I mean, he's a stickler to the rules, but he only ever seems to care when it's ghosts that brake them. Correct me if I'm wrong, but never has he punished a human. His quirk is making semi-sentient minions. They're not copies of himself. They're like clay humans with basic forms. They all look alike and have no special characteristics.

Frostbite is just... A yeti. With cryokenisis. It's a mutation type quirk.

Same goes for Wulf, he's just a humanoid wolf that can create teleportation portals. I can't think of a reason why he would only speak Esperanto though. It could be something similar to Five from umbrella academy. He accidentally got stuck in the 1600 as a kid and managed to come back only relatively recently.

I feel like all the other ghosts have obvious powers.

Cujo can become ginormous,

Technus can control technology,

Dora and Aragon can become dragons,

Jhonny gives people bad luck and can control his shadow,

Kitty can make man disappear,

Ember can mind control using music,

Spectra can use people's negative emotions to stay young,

Bernard has shapeshifting,

Youngblood can't be seen by adults (side effect: can't grow old) and his sideckick has a variant of shapeshifting where he can only transform in animals. A definitive father figure),

Box ghost can control boxes,

Pandora can control the plagues of the world,

Desiré can make people's wishes come true,

Sidney can swap bodies with people,

Undergrowth can control plants,

Pariah Dark- I... Actually don't know...

Lunch Lady can control food,

Aaaanndddd no more come to mind.

I want to do something with this AU but I can't really think of an interesting story, other than "kids from 1A get misplaced in time and Danny has to help, discovering the existence of Clockwork and the Observants, whom he hates. So he tries to get Clockwork out of there with the other kid's help" but that's it, really.

I actually have a 3rd idea, but it basically works the same as the MHA one. Crossover with the X-Men.

Substitute quirk havers with mutants and quirks with mutations and you get the idea.

The plot would be more of a "Danny gets recruited by Xavier after the trauma of almost dying activated his mutation and goes to live at the mansion. This happens after the events of season 3, alla salted to make sense in the world of Marvel, but without Phantom planet. He makes friends there, since Sam and Tucker aren't with him and everything is fine and dandy and happy. Until it comes out that the Fentons actually contribute to the creation of the Sentinels, because they hate Phantom that much.

So Danny has to infiltrate his own family to get info on how the Sentinels work so they can destroy them, since his parents are still oblivious and they made it so that the Sentinels wouldn't attack Danny thinking that his accident just somehow make him register as a mutant on machinery" and that's it.

[accio-victuuri]

Hi can you provide the link to read manhuas you prefer?

Hello Anon! OMG Manhua/Manhwa Rec! Here we go! I’ve only been reading for 2-3 months (consistently), so this will be pretty limited. I will link to the legit sites. A google search will direct you to others.

Most of these are WIPs and some, sadly, are discontinued. I won’t add TGCF or MDZS here cause those are already a given. 👇🏼

• Body Electric by Dong Ye ( completed, supernatural, lots of trigger warnings and plotty )

Ba Song is the hotshot cop who’s been handed an open-and-shut case: the suicide of a young woman. Except… who commits suicide by stabbing their own body and strangling themself? There's only one man who can help him with this mystery — Bo Shan, the renowned forensic pathologist with a severe and cold personality. What's more, his body produces bioelectricity, allowing him to acutely sense bodily injury with his touch. There's an electric current between them, and each touch sizzles with energy

If you like crime dramas and stories where they solve mysterious cases then this is for you. The romance is subtle, and their relationship is not insta-love. strangers to colleagues to friends to lovers trope. This also discusses alot of issues the society has that will make you stop and think. Ba Song is really the honorable MC in here who always wants to help people and do good. While Bo Shan is the reluctant one but deep inside, he wants to make a difference too. I wish they would make a donghua or live action out of this.

• 30 year old by S-Monkey - ( ongoing, age difference, blind dates, slice of life)

Charlie Wei is a single and handsome executive. He’s also a closeted gay guy who’s been on way too many bad blind dates with women. Charlie’s still hung up on his ex-boyfriend James and is… gasp, 30! Charlie’s family thinks he’s straight and too old to be without a wife! During another bad blind date, Charlie meets the flirty Ethan, who both annoys and intrigues him. Can Charlie finally come out and find true love with Ethan or will he continue on his streak of bad blind dates?

The cover looks melodramatic but it’s really not. This is so funny! I read this because people were saying it reminded them of BoXiao. And yes, there are moments here that remind me of them, but it’s more like an AU of BoXiao. I stayed up late trying to get caught up in the chapters and you won’t realize it cause it’s just that good. I love seeing the older MC loosening up and being more of himself. and the younger one being more responsible in his career. They just become better versions of themselves because of each other. It’s so sweet!

• I ship me and my Rival - by Pepa ( ongoing, comedy, reads like a meta )

This follows the adventures of Wei Yanzi, a third-rate actor in the Chinese entertainment industry, stumbles onto a shipping fandom for himself and another actor (Gu Yiliang) while trying to escape from the flame wars and negativity. He's so taken with this group of fans who actually see him as a good guy instead of an enemy/rival of Gu Yiliang that he falls head-first into fandom and becomes actively involved in trying to provide shipping fuel and the fans' daily dose of fluff.

IF THERE IS ONE thing you will read here, let it be this. It is hilarious. If you are a CP fan you will relate so much and it’s a good time. It just shows how people who think are rivals can actually be really good friends in real life. What we see is not always what it seems. and people will interpret things based on their bias. The MC here is so dramatic! how his inner feelings/reactions were drawn will make you laugh.

• Path to You - by Sinran (completed, slice of life, age gap fluff and comedy )

When almost college dropout Jensen attempts to drink away his problems, unemployed Nathaniel suddenly pukes on him and ruins his night. As an apology, Nathaniel offers to help Jensen with his studies. Despite Jensen's difficulties in getting along with people, the two become friends and something deeper begins to grow between them

The story is so soft. If you want something with mild angst/misunderstandings— then pick this. I love the progression of their relationship and how they take care of each other. There are other themes showed here other than the romance.

• Red Candy - by Hanse (completed season one with a cliffhanger, explicit scenes, assassins )

Shihyeon, aka “Red Candy,” is a secret agent whose code name comes from bathing in the blood of his marks on dangerous missions. Shihyeon’s tasked with seducing and obtaining intel from Hajun, a hot college professor. Shihyeon can disarm enemies, but didn’t expect to be disarmed himself by Hajun’s own tight body. Now Shihyeon’s caught between loyalty to his spy agency and Hajun. Can Red Candy survive the incoming wave of enemies and still indulge in the sweet ecstasy of Hajun’s embrace?

THIS STRESSED ME OUT MAAAN. Wow. I loved this. That season one cliffhanger. It’s definitely up there as my favorite. If you think about it, the tropes are really not original. An assassin is sent to shadow a person and they develop a relationship. That simple. But NOOOOO! There are so many things going on. The Main mystery plot, Their relationship, their shared past plus you have other sketchy secondary characters. And did i mention explicit scenes? Lots of them. I want this two to have a happy ending!!!

• Lone Swan - by Chu Man (discontinued, cultivation, star crossed lovers)

After losing his memory, Yiqiu Shen, a disciple from the decent sect meets a very special man named Luofeng Yan, who is the leader of the evil Divine Wind Cult. When escaping and conflicting with Yan, Shen gradually finds his original self as well as his previous love back. Together they rip off the facade of the martial world and reveal the hidden true

I didn’t want to add a discontinued story here, with no novel as a source material but this one made an impact on me. so. yeah. THE ART. breathtaking. The plot = layered. There are times I don’t even know who is telling the truth. It had so much potential and i hope it will get picked up again at some point. People rec this to those who enjoyed TGCF and MDZS, and they are right. 👍🏼

• Dragon in Distress by Si Wang Wen Hua - ( ongoing, dragons, past life, lost power, fantasy )

This is a story about a little Eastern green dragon and a little Western black dragon playing together.

The synopsis is pretty simple if you look at it but this one is pretty interesting. and surprisingly funny. tinie AoAo is so cute! 🤍 the other MC has tsundere tendencies tho. Lots of lore and more truths to uncover as the story progresses. I’m not giving it enough justice with how i’m reccing it, but if you like dragons and fantasy — give this a go.

• Breaking through the clouds 2: Swallow the Sea - Huaishang (ongoing, based on a novel, crime, drama, cases)

Wu Yu, a newcomer of the Public Security Bureau, is gentle and frail. He doesn’t care about the difficulties posed by Bu ZhongHua, his strict boss, and only wants to stay in the background to be paid on time with enough for food. However, no one knows that this young man’s head is targeted by top drug traffickers for a large bounty or that this courageous young man has once slaughtered the dragon of the abyss. With a chain of interlocking cases, a series of troubles come one after another. Can the two people work together to survive through the difficulties?

Do you see a pattern with me? lol. I like crime themes. This one is the same and by the looks of it, the cases they solve will take longer to unravel. I haven’t read the novel it’s based on yet so i’m just going with how the manhua is progressing. I like it when Wu Yu turns full on action-mode and when ZH takes care of him. Plus it helps that they are both gorgeous. I’ll get back this with a proper link.

• Where the Wind Stays - by Yusa (completed season one, curses, demons, possession, timeskip, explicit scenes)

To break an ancient curse that plagues the royal bloodline, young Prince Tasara is destined to be sacrificed in death. Nara is enlisted as a palace servant to carry out the prince’s execution when the time comes. But he develops a soft spot for the cursed prince, and after committing an atrocious and unforgivable act against Tasara, Nara is desperate to right his wrongs. Soon, their lascivious relationship that had been kept under wraps tests his resolve. Will Nara be tempted away from his original mission? There’s no telling how far he would go to earn Tasara’s forgiveness.

This story broke my brain, in a good way. I don’t wanna say much cause it will spoil the story. It’s the type that you gave to see and suffer through yourself. I am excited for what happens in season II!!!

Honorable Mentions:

I’m placing these here cause I have only read a few chapters and tho I liked them, I wanna read more before reccing it in full. 👍🏼

• I accidentally saved the Jinghu’s enemy

• Global Examination

• Monster entertainment

• Demon Apartment

And that’s it! Hope enjoy Anon! 😊

[cheelduh]

The Shackles of Duty

Pairing: Diluc x gn!reader

Synopsis: As a weapon of the Abyss, your obligation towards your Princess should be eternal.

Warnings: Unedited angst. Pls ignore any mistakes besties <3

Word count: 2k

You've never really given the weather any thought. It's not as if it matters to you. Stormy day or not, your responsibilities—no, your duty towards the Abyss will remain the same.

It's still raining. The mud thick underneath your boots, slippery against your heel, the putrid smell of grassy dew lingering miserably against the air.

"You know what you have to do." The Abyss Princess commands you, her loyal servant, hers to dispose if she so desires.

"The dragon...Stormterror." You explain, goosebumps forming on your skin as a result of the damp clothes that adorn your wet body. "Your brother, the honorary night, along with others, thwarted our plans by eliminating the fragments."

"Why?"

"You know why, your grace." Is all that you can give to her. "I shall follow him. Keep him away, from inciting another encounter—"

"No," Lumine declares, no room for argument. "Infiltrating their ranks is no easy task. You mustn't be relieved of your post, not yet at least. We need to extract as much information as possible to further avoid outcomes like these."

Exactly the answer you don't want to hear in the middle of this archon forsaken storm, all bruised and bumped up from Stormterror's confrontation.

Don't make me do this again. I don't know how much more I'll be able to take.

You bite your tongue, knowing full well the finality of her words. "As you wish, my princess."

The familiar redhead suddenly plagues your mind, stoic, and with years worth of anger at the world. The hero in the shadows, the man with an agonizing past, a sense of retribution albeit his severed connections with the knights of favonious.

Despite the obstacles of life and the intellect honed from his journey, he's reckless. Reckless enough to still believe that he can make a difference. That anyone can make a difference.

Diluc is reckless enough to love someone, reckless to think that his sworn brother would be the only one capable of betraying him.

—

"There's no point." Diluc whispers loud enough for you to hear him underneath the stars, adding onto the lull of night. "They all keep walking—no, running, aimlessly because of duty. They follow orders without knowing where they come from. It's utter chaos."

"But in all the chaos, there is calculation." You lean against the stone of the walls, and as always, you know how to speak to Diluc. How to open him up and read him like a book.

You're sure he can do the same with you, but he just isn't looking where he should be. You need him to look; to realize he's tangled up in your web of deceit and that there's no way out.

"How do you do that?" He says, aware all at once. "How do you give me so much yet so little?"

I want to give you everything, the pretty and the ugly things alike. I want to give you my secrets, fold them up in a dirty, black, envelope, and have you turn it to ash with the violent flames of your heart.

It's a lot of work hiding under false pretences.

"It's a beautiful night, my love." You say instead.

Diluc's never gotten used to the term of endearment, still new to receiving affection. It warms him up differently to his vision, pleasant yet unfamiliar. It takes a moment for him to come back to himself.

You briefly jolt at the pleasant warmth of his hand atop yours, a silent reassurance, one that worsens your guilt, weaves it into something that pierces your rotten core.

—

You don't know what you're thinking when you stand in front of Jean's office, fist hovering.

Is forgiveness why you're here? No, because you would've went to Diluc first. You would've confessed to him right then and there about what a vengeful weapon you are, a mindless soldier that will do anything for their queen.

You don't even get a chance to think of the various ways he'd kill you when the door is open, and you're met with the view of the acting Grandmaster herself. Another dear friend that will come to despise you.

"Y/N! I'm glad you're here—"

"I'm a servant of the Abyss." You cut her off, and don't stop yourself, letting the words run freely against the fast pace of your heart. "I've infiltrated Mondstadt under the orders of the abyss princess and used what I've learned to conspire against the archons."

Everything's spinning, so fast you can barely breathe.

Jean doesn't move, doesn't even blink as the confusion dawns on her face. You aren't looking for confusion.

"Don't pretend you're blindsided completely," You give her a humourless chuckle, and by the hush of your tone it's as if you're telling her a secret to any spectators. "You've known for a while now that there's been a traitor within your ranks. Every single attack from the Abyss—too clean, too unpredictable, one could say with coincidence."

"But the universe is rarely so lazy." Your voice is smooth, calm, the complete opposite to the flurries of emotions that bloom your being. "Varka knew that. And so do you."

"No," Jean finally speaks up, denying your claim incandescently. "We've fought together for years. You're one of our best, our most dependable. Everything we've done—everything you've done has been for Mondstadt. As always."

If only that were the truth.

You wave a hand over your right eye, releasing the magical bind to reveal the intricate marker. Jean's eyes widen, and she's far from her usual composed self.

"Still don't believe me?" You ask, knowing full well she's still in denial. It's not everyday your best mate, the one that fights alongside you, admits to being a traitorous scum of the abyss drenched in years worth of lies.

Ah the trials and tribulations of friendship.

"Fine then," With the flick of your wrist, it doesn't take much effort for the main doors to open up with a bang.

The acting grand master draws back at the shrill sound, teeth gritting.

She isn't the only one that's provoked. Wood and Wyratt, the only two guards on duty at this time let out shouts of surprise, reaching for their swords on instinct.

You summon your abysmal magic, which shapes into deep blue, if not black, appendages. They glitter, hiding the entire galaxy in them, with stars that burst into life. Breathtaking if not used on the battlefield.

In mere seconds, one latches on to Wyratt's leg, while the other takes Wood by his arm. All it takes is a jerk of your index finger, and they're sent flying outside the doors, which unceremoniously slam shut behind them. The lock clicks into place, cherry on top.

Jean materializes her sword, taking on a defensive position. You don't think you've ever seen the woman irritated, let alone as livid as she is right now.

That's more like it.

"Go on. Arrest me." You bring your wrists up, casual as ever. "We'd better hurry. They'll come after me soon enough, it's in your best interest to listen to everything I have to say if I'm willing to die over it." There's a tightness in your chest that you can't explain.

Jean hardens her gaze, not allowing herself to relax. You know what she's going to say. You've been her friend, her advisor, long enough to understand where most of her actions and decision stem from.

She says—well she says nothing, because she doesn't get a chance to when an abrupt screech erupts from her office, causing your ears to perk up and your blood to run cold. A series of heavy footsteps, footsteps you're all too familiar with follow.

Although you're fairly certain you know who it is, you glance over her shoulder anyways to meet the fiery red eyes that have reserved a place in your heart. The sole reason you're blowing the whistle.

You feel a sharp pang in your heart.

The pure, authentic, hurt in Diluc's hardened features are enough to have you gutted completely. Mouth dry with a rock in your throat, you don't so much as allow yourself to exhale.

You finally understand why you didn't go to him first. You were sure he'd be able to survive the betrayal, but you weren't sure you'd be able to survive it yourself.

Diluc. You want to tell him, tell him how sorry you are. Tell him how much of a piece of shit you are. Tell him that he doesn't deserve this, that he deserves so much better. Tell him that you love him, devastatingly so.

It isn't supposed to end this way. Things never go as planned.

You avert your gaze, clench your jaw shut, and wait.

"Jean." Diluc says, and there's grim finality in his voice. "We need a moment." His words send small pricks throughout your spine.

Jean regains her composure, mulling over his request, but any resistance is placated by a simple look from the redhead.

When she reluctantly leaves, the quiet is near unendurable.

"Why?" If the way Diluc's fixed gaze could set anything on fire, you would've been burned to the stake by now.

You'd calculated this moment countless of times, predicted exactly how this would go, lived through every outturn in the dead of the night as you struggled to find sleep in his arms.

Living through it is far more dreadful than you could've ever imagined it to be.

His body closes in at your lack of reply, hands gripping your forearm to pull you in and kick the door shut. "Why?" This time it's more firm.

You open your mouth to speak, like a fish out of water, and out comes nothing.

"I trusted you," Diluc says weakly, in a way that has your heart shattering a million times a second. Tightening his hold on your arm, he continues "You were the only one I...I should've known. I was foolish to think I could believe in you." a sharp exhale, and he pushes you back against the door, but it's not harsh at all. He's gentle, and somehow that makes everything so much more worse.

Your inability to reply sparks a different kind of rage in his heart.

"It must have been quite the show, watching everyone run in circles." He seethes, furious, wounded. "Was it all just a lie? Were my feelings ever returned? Or was I just another one of your fair games?"

You wrench away from his hold as if it's burning you. The words are like needles, pinning into you with so much force it has you lurching in place, and then they twist deep within your blackened veins.

"Stop it." You should've just left. Should've just pushed back the nagging in your brain and jumped off a cliff or a something. Surely the unexpected death of a royal guard—no, the death of a fundamental piece in their plan would surely be enough to cripple them for at least a few days, if not weeks.

Anything but this.

You meet his gaze. "I do love you Diluc, that I am sure of. You don't have to believe me. I know I wouldn't."

"Is that all you have to say?" He all but hisses, gloved fingers closing in to form a fist. "You've betrayed everyone. Your friends, your family...me."

"You think I don't know that?" Your voice breaks when you look away. "I don't know what's right anymore, what's wrong. I don't even know what I've been fighting for this entire time." A sharp, mirthless laugh escapes your lips, "To allow myself to carry out orders I do not believe in is too much to bear. How long do I delude myself into thinking that this is all for Khaenri'ah? That this is all for a reason that is beyond me?"

There's a sliver of softness that shows in his features, but you're too busy calming the waves crashing in your head.

"Whatever it is, it doesn't matter anymore." You say, the sinking of your chest only expanding. "I've already contravened against the abyss, and for that they will come for me. The only thing I regret is that they couldn't get to me before you did."

A stricken look passes across his face, brows furrowed and desperation as clear as day when he reaches for you.

This time, you let his arms curl around your shaking figure, welcoming the comfort that you're undeserving of. "I won't let them."

"I'm sorry." You whisper shakily, fisting the fronts of his coat. "I'm so sorry Diluc."

Diluc hums as he strokes your hair soothingly, with the utmost of care. Although his trust in you has shattered, like irreplaceable fragments of glass, his love for you will remain constant.

Even with the storm that is fated to come.

[theredsuzuran]

Muzan x reader ~ Lily [pt 2]

Took me forever to complete this song fanfiction, wouldn't have been possible if my friend didn't help, thanks to him. Please check out the first part to understand it better. Here.

Warning : abusive themes, mention of blood and gore.

Enjoy

She knew she was hypnotized.

The sound of a loud slap echoed throughout the room, your father who was furious about your escape have just hit you hard on your face infront of everyone, including the servants. On other hand your mother holding your father's arm tightly to prevent him from hitting you any further.

"Get away, you callous women, it is for you that she tried to run away, you should be ashamed of yourself", he shouted, shoving off your mother roughly onto the tatami floor.

"This is wrong, the Gods will punish us", she murmured under her breath making muffle sounds, your father dissatisfied by her futile attempts of protests turns his attention away from you to hit her right in the stomach with his bare fist in pure fury, making her scream in agony coughing out mucus. Your mother being a fragile women of timid personality, rarely talked to anyone let alone protest or stand up against vile play, always seen behind the shoji doors praying to the gods and chanting prayers, constantly intimidated. Witnessing your father abusing her inhumanely infront of her children, family members as well as the servants, evoked a sense of rebellion inside of you.

"Don't hit my mother, you are angry because of me hit me instead, as much as you like, but not her", you growled furiously at your father, making your mother jolt towards your direction as she shook her head violently.

"Stay away from this brat", he said apatheticly, disappointment hinted in his voice turning his head away from you once again in utter disgust. Receiving such cold treatments from your father made your heart shattered in pieces. Then, your uncle step up.

"Take her to the room and increase the guards, this shall not happen again", your father ordered the servants which was immediately followed without any hesitation or delay before you could protest you were taken away. However you wonder why did your mother reacted that way?

__

As the time passed by, you grew up to be an elegant lady mostly within the confinement of four walls, while pushing down all the jovial moments deep into the unconsciousness... your mind engulfed with the thoughts of your demise. It was getting harder and harder each day for you to keep your sanity intact. A constant state of melancholy always prevailed within your aura, even your own shadow seem deceitful.

Walking on cold thin nights

Then the night of that cursed full moon occurred. You glanced at the starry night from the now open window of your cell with your souless (e/c) eyes. Succumbing towards the void of eternal darkness. Heaven knows what grave sin you might have committed to receive such heavy punishments. As you were busy getting drowned in your own thoughts the shoji door slightly opened and the maids rushed inside your room one by one with cloths and accessories in their arm.

"It's time m'lady" the head maid bowed respectfully infront of you, then motioned the other maids to help you get ready. You could feel them pitying you, sympathizing the miserable state you're in. You simply nodded and get up to dress for your deathbed. At this point you didn't care much you just want it to get over soon, trailing off in the sea of your own distorted thoughts.

You approached your family to bid farewell before heading towards the palanquin. Everyone wishpering behind your back something that they are not allowed to speak infront of you. That didn't bother you anways but you wish you could atleast see your mother for the last time. Is it that hard for a mother to witness her daughter's departure that she needs to constantly hide indoors avoiding her like plague?

A herd of maids accompany you as your bridesmaid to mount Akakura. The norimono stopped infront of a shrine. The bitter cold outside and the solemn atmosphere made it difficult for you to enter through the main gates. All of them left at once after escorting you inside the shrine. While you sat there facing the kami observing the interior, The light of the lamp beside you flickering slowly. The shrine was enormous filled with shofisticated designs, paintings and detail descriptions of the great folklore of Japan. Gods like susanoo killing Yamamoto no orochi in order to restore peace, you were completely lost admiring the aesthetics of the shrine.

But then it broke,

Did she awoke again?

"This is not what we were expecting", you felt a strong gust of wind behind your back as if something was breathing behind your back, you could feel saliva dripping over your expensive uchikake and to your exact horror was standing your living nightmare, a disfigured seven headed monster signifying those of a dragon and a serpent hovering on top of you covering almost the entire shrine glancing directly at your fragile figure with pure malice and hunger.

"Nay, certainly not, she's not one of them, fufu", another head cooed grinning creepily. You looked at them with utter confusion, raising your head slightly to look over that hideous thing above you.

"What do you mean?", Asking almost frustrated, your voice still shaking.

"Oh", the head at the centre replied, his voice calm and steady, facing you with it's long wide neck, his eyes glowing dangerously, inches away from your face, breath stinking of something you'd probably not keen to know as he opened his mouth to speak.

"I fear mortal, but you are not blood-related to any of the seven maidens we have devoured so far", you were taken aback. Not related? You were bewildered, unable to process the new set of information displayed before you, fresh stream of tear forming in the corner of your eyes.

"No, you are lying", You snapped at them angrily.

"What a clueless human, what do we gain by that?", The head in the left hissed irritatedly.

The ground beneath you seem to slide open whereas the sky above began to crumble. For eighteen years you have been raised by people who are not even blood related to you but most importantly they were using you to save themselves, you stood their perplexed, overwhelmed with the new reality. How cruel can people become? An urge to confront your parents came in demanding for an explanation, about their selfish lies, for hiding your true identity, stealing your childhood and a chance to live a normal life. Now that perfectly made sense why your mother always prayed to the Gods for forgiveness, barely talking to you or look in your eyes and why your father is so detached towards you and not your siblings. They were never your own and you were never there's.

"Those human thought they could deceive us, we will kill them", head to the left spoke.

"No, not so soon, they might have deceived us but the girl lying below us is a marechi, no no no we cannot let her go" the main head chuckled darkly, showing its true nature all of them at once looked at you with their protruding eyes, as you shut your eyelids for the worse accepting your misfortune, a heated argument broke among the seven heads.

"You have eaten all the seven women previously, I will have this one" the right head hissed, accompanied by other heads, all of them screaming and cursing at each other. You notice the unlocked gate it must have been open since the demon arrived. It was your golden chance to escape, as they were busy fighting, you took advantage of the situation, slowly crawling your way towards the entrance of the shrine . They seem to not notice you trailing off their sight.

"Stop fighting with one another, we all are literally the same, anyone of us eating her would be enough to make us stronger and please that man", the head at the center erupted fuming with anger.

"She's gone, she's gone", one of the head shouted. Indeed you were missing the only thing left was the wataboshi you wore on top.

Then she ran faster than-

You ran through the dense forest lifting your kimono, the smell of fresh air hitting your nostrils, the feeling of nostalgia came back as you can finally taste that long lost freedom you constantly craved for since forever but unfortunately that didn't last long. As you were running blindly you could feel something gigantic chasing from behind. Being too frantic you stumble and fell onto the ground your leg getting caught in the fabric of your kimono in the process.

Start screaming, "Is there someone out there?"

Please help me

Come get me

"You thought you can ran away from us? What a foolish human", the sound of loud laughter resonated through out the woods. The demon wrapped its tale around your waist squeezing you tightly in attempt to crush your defenseless body lifting you up opening its mouth to shove you inside.

Behind her she can hear it say-

"Let go of me!" You screamed on top of your lungs, a last desperate attempt to exist. When out of the blue a large mascular tentacles flew towards your direction cutting the tail swiftly in a blink of an eye, releasing you from its bone breaking grip but instead of crashing against the ground, you were caught by a pair of strong masculine arm. You looked up in disbelief. A familiar fair male in texudo emerged, his flawless features shining underneath the moonlight coming through the branches.

"Muzan..."

"We met again (y/n), I hope am not too late", he smiled at you gazing softly. Tears came rolling down your cheeks as you cannot believe was it real or just a dream.

History always seem to find it's way of repeating itself.

His previous soft look instantly changed to that of a menacing one as he trailed his glance towards the disfigured monster.

"Crouch down and lower your heads", all the seven heads bow down infront of the demon lord, Cowering with fear at once as if they were struck by lightning.

"Pardon my lord, we didn't realize you have arrived before us or else-", the demon yelped immediately like a lost puppy.

"Who gave you the permission to speak?" Muzan replied indignantly, his eyes glowing threateningly at the petrified creature. You knew he was a demon but you were unaware that he held such authority making a powerful demon like Akai that supposedly haunts the mountain for centuries to lower his head in terror on his command. What was unknown to you that he infact was the progenitor of these morbid creatures.

How ironic being saved by none other but a demon.. being first of his kind.

"Have mercy, my lord" the demon begged, while one of his head thought why's he saving that human girl?

"Why am I saving that human girl? Go ahead, continue", muzan narrowed his eyes making the demon quivered with shock. He can read my mind?

"What makes you answer my authority?" The demon lord demanded furiously, veins popping out from his head.

"Beings like you should not be allowed to exist" with that said, his one arm stretched, injecting a sharp blade into the creature allowing his blood to overflow, creating chaos in the demonic cells of that creature eventually turing it into a pile of molten flesh.

It's over, the nightmares. Fresh tears rolled down your face, mixed with all sorts of emotions, the tables have turned, the heavens seems to have listen to your prayers. A pair of large hands cupped your face breaking you from the chain of thoughts

Follow everywhere I go

"Why are you still crying, dear?" Muzan replied with his smooth, monotonous voice, removing his hand as he placed you gently on the surface. His mood changed in a matter of seconds, you wonder how much more he was capable of doing beside that but brushing aside those feelings of negativity you moved closer.

"Took you long enough" engulfing him in a tight hug, startling him in the process. The idea of being intimate with a lowly creature was good enough to make him puke in disgust. How can a mortal like you have the audacity to touch the all mighty kibutsuji Muzan? He believed himself to be above everything even viewing his own subordinates as puppets of his play. His twisted sense of morality speaks that affection holds a person from attaining superiority and is a sign of weakness, the more ruthless and cold hearted the more close you are to perfection. He shows no value to people who possess such emotions which he is foreign to. Your vulnerability makes him want to ripped you to shreds, torment you and break your mind, yet he finds himself at ease. It was hard for him to admit that his pride was hurted against someone so delicate and somehow he felt those feelings of warmth to be tolerable with you, even to the extent of craving it.

After a while, a sudden realization hit your senses as you parted from the tight embrace, your (s/c) countenance painted with dark shades of red, averting your gaze from the demon. The moon shone brightly above you exhibiting your breathtaking beauty just like a piece of art. The way your shiny (h/c) locks fell over your smooth skin, the way your pulm lips parted to speak and the way your eyes sparked with adoration, was enough to drive him insane. From the very moment he laid his eyes upon you, he knew a masterpiece like you belonged only to the epitome of perfection. He will do anything to keep you to himself.

Top over the mountains or valley low.

"(Y/n), you have a very rare blood, a marechi" said muzan, as you recall the conversation you had with the demon in the shrine saying something similar on this note.

Give you everything you been dreaming of

"What's with that muzan?" You asked curiously, to which muzan's tone changed into that of a viscous one.

"Its a great meal for demons", silence broke out as you were too shock to say anything. Muzan knew he can take advantage of that situation and mould you the way he desires.

"(Y/n) are you scared of me?"

"No", you replied almost immediately with no hesitation.

"Do you trust me?" He questioned again looking at you directly with his glowing ruby orbs. Beginning his sick games of manipulation.

"Yes I do, with all my life, you are the only one who saved my life not once but twice, you cared so much for me when no one did" you paused.

"Beside my mother"

Just let me in, ooh

"Your family abandoned you, when you needed them the most" he replied creating doubts about inside of you, making you back off a little towards a tree.

"My mother was helpless" you answered.

"They used you for their own benefit", pinning you against the tree, he whispered venom into your ears. The proximity between you two, send shivers down your spine. Seeing you helpless excited him, making him determined to claim you even more.

Everything you want in gold, I'll be the magic story you have been told.

"How do you k-know?" You trembled, gasping your mouth and before you could lift your hands to cover your face muzan held your hands into his bigger ones looking directly in your eyes.

"Tell me (y/n) am I wrong?", you knew he wasn't although it didn't make sense.

"No.." is all you replied, satisfied with your answers muzan proceeded into the next step.

And you will safe under my control.

"I want to keep you safe, (y/n)", he moved closer to your face.

"You and I shall rule the world"

"I don't know muzan"

"No one can harm you ever again"

"But-"

"Don't you want to be free?"

Free? That's what you have been wanting for so long, freedom. He made you believe that you can be a boundless bird stretching its wings in the infinite magnitude. All of your doubts stopped growing from then and there, muzan knew he has struck the right cord, creating a ray of false hope about your vision of a perfect free world, thereby controlling your perception just like a predator luring his victims with lies. Seems as if you were destined to be deceived.

"Yes" you replied hypnotized by his convincing.

"Then become a demon"

Just let me in, ohh

Muzan moved his hand across your face caressing it gently, his face inches apart from yours, as his lips crashed against yours. For someone who recoiled from physical touch, to be felt loved by something that isn't supposed to be God's creation. A warm feeling crept inside of your chest as it was pressed against his. Feeling your joint heartbeats.

I never bothered to feel my chest for a heart beat, now I do. As I looked down to see my hand moving towards my face, the slimy red droplet broke away, disconnecting our lips. Demon? This man who gave me this new life? His eyes, so calm and fiery, How can I feel such duality? I lifted my other hand, without knowing it went to his chest, On his chiseled chest, there. You thought.

"A demon?" You replied with your now quivering lips turning your face away with embarrassment, realizing your lips connected with burning passion. Your eyes teared up you know not why, to be embraced by one who was supposed to be cold, to be embraced by someone who stood against armies through out time, you wanted to be with him.

"you will be", said muzan, as you felt your consciousness fading away, you know now why... Why all of them follow him, despite the abuse..Despite the sacrifices... you know now why your body moved craving for his touch although you could feel your throat burning yet it didn't matter, the warm embrace is all that you wanted.

That night you abandoned your humanity.

[citrinebumblebee-fr]

Lore Dump: Umbrata, The Family that Constantly Makes Their Problems Everyone Else’s Problems

I finally got g1s for all the relevant lore dergs so here we goooo

Arik and Kiera Umbrata, my progens and the first relevant generation

Arik was the founder and (up until recently) current ruler of Umbra, a thriving city-state between the Wispwillow Grove and the Forum of the Obscured Crescent. He ruled with an iron fist, treating his people well but keeping a heavy focus on military to the point that many who have been there simply call it “the Fortress”. He was killed in battle while assisting an ally near the border between Plague and Arcane.  Kiera was a queen known for her gentleness, being rather frail even for a fae. She was a religious figure for the city, taking the role of a priestess of the Shadowbinder; she was known for her ability to see the spirits of those who have passed, and to speak with those who did not want to let go of their time with the living. She died of complications soon after laying her two eggs; they were left to be raised by their nursemaid. Now, her spirit still roams the tangled wood, helping the dead reach their rest and helping the living find their way to safety. They had two children: Yuki (name change pending, open to suggestions) and Cassiopiea. Yuki Umbrata and his descendant

Yuki, the eldest, took the throne after his father’s death. He turned Umbra into a theocracy, letting his zealous faith in the Shadowbinder guide his rule. He exalted dragons to her regularly, hoping to gain her favor, and as part of his coronation transformed himself into a Nocturne. While Arik had kept this people in mind when making decisions, Yuki saw them as an afterthought to his religious and military ambitions; he had gained such a desire for power that even his heirs were seen as a threat. This would be the downfall of his city and the cause of his death.

Vivus is Yuki’s firstborn son, born to the king and his head assassin, as ambitious as his father and cunning as his mother. Yuki saw this ambition, and ordered Vivus’ mother to slip him a poison, upon pain of her own torture and death; instead, she crafted a masterful work of both magic and alchemy: a poison which would at once kill him and bind him to a spell that would keep his body in stasis. However, if he did not regularly consume a specific potion, his body would still decay. When he awoke to his new undead state, he fled to the Scarred Wasteland in hopes that Plague would offer a solution to his new predicament; there he allied with the shade entity known as Mortua. He would offer her power and a physical form, in exchange for her residence in his mind.  Mad with power and Shade, Vivus et Mortua returned to Umbra, destroying the city and murdering Yuki. He did not stop there, however; he wished to destroy anyone he associated with his father, and so turned his baleful gaze on his aunt’s city as well. 

Cassiopiea Luciata and her family

Cassiopiea Luciata was the younger child, and so ineligible for the throne of Umbra. She greatly disagreed with her brother’s philosophy, and his actions soured her to the Shadowbinder and to Shadow as a whole. Powerless to do anything about her brother, she took to the city’s library; there she met their archivist, Deo, and the two fell deeply for each other. In secret, they planned their exodus to Light, bringing with them any Umbran residents who wished to leave the city. After a short conflict, Yuki let them go, on the condition that she sever herself from the family name and never return. She did so, renaming herself and her family Luciata, establishing the city-state of Lucia near the Mirrorlight Promenade. 

She and Deo had three daughters: Adessa, Serana, and Sia. Deo, Adessa, and Serana were killed in the destruction of Lucia by Vivus; thinking Sia had perished as well, for years Cassiopiea thought she was the only survivor of her family. She wears mourning jewelry blackened in the flames of their funeral pyres, and since her city’s destruction has wandered Sornieth with no home and no purpose. 

Deo was Cassiopiea’s husband: archivist in the library of Umbra and prince of Lucia. Kind to a fault and smart as a whip, it was in part due to his savviness that Lucia was able to gain the support of the surrounding nobility in its infancy as a city. He and Cassiopiea ruled together, and he maintained a growing library within the palace walls.

After Lucia’s destruction, his body was found curled around his childrens’, defending them to the last.

Sia Luciata, daughter of Cassiopiea and Deo, survived Lucia’s destruction unbeknownst to her parents....and thanks to the Shade. Mortua, realizing that Vivus was becoming too unstable to remain her host for long, had sought a backup of sorts, and latched onto Sia. She awoke in the ashen rubble of her home, with her father’s wings surrounding her, now cold and lifeless; disoriented, she followed the faint summons in the back of her head to venture back toward shadow. 

Once she reached the Tangled Wood, however, she was met with a familiar spirit. Kiera, recognizing her kin and her affliction, led the hatchling Sia away from Umbra and away from Mortua. Although Kiera could not leave the Tangled Wood, she led Sia into the path of a dragon who could help her: Gerda, an exiled Gaoler, who would go on to teach Sia magic that would freeze her Shade in its tracks.

A piece of Mortua still exists within Sia, but she is determined that the entity will die with her at her natural end. She will not be like her cousin. 

Other notable dragons to the Umbratas’ story:

Philautia, former nursemaid for the Umbrata children in Umbra and one of the few survivors of the city’s destruction.

Calemvir Solaris, patriarch of the noble family who sponsored Lucia’s construction: he has lived longer than anyone can count, and is thought to be immortal. He can neither confirm nor deny.

Gerda, exiled from the Southern Ice Fields for reasons she will not disclose. She encounters Sia at the border of the Tangled Wood, and takes her under her wing.

[ganymedesclock]

I think it’s fascinating how our relationship with stories grows and changes. Some things, we meet them and know immediately we love them, and love them our whole lives. Some things, we love for a while, but not later; our needs and wants change, our worldview adjusts, and the infrastructure of our hearts, minds, bodies, carries stress differently.

For myself, I did not grow up with the horror genre. I remember being kind of repulsed by the idea when I was little- why would you choose to say something bad, when you could say something nice instead? This was a thought that haunted me, particularly when I read Harry Potter And The Order Of The Phoenix, the first book I’d really experienced where a major character I was rooting for died instead. Why would you choose to make something bad, when things could just be good?

Fantasy- particularly the soaring, dragon-riding, shining-sword good-against-evil fantasy- was my beloved, and it remains instrumental to me. So I don’t think it’s surprising that its particular vernacular about light and dark sort of seeped into the groundwater of me. At its most traditional, the fantasy genre preaches a message about holding the light close, and rejecting the dark.

But what is the dark? Most of us will not be attacked by demons or giant snakes or evil wizards. We will not be turned into dogs, and, honestly, while all of us at some point or another will encounter interpersonal malice, many of us will spend our entire lives without a personal nemesis. Some of the most violent and dangerous people we will ever meet will target us because of surface qualities or even traits that we don’t have.

So what is the dark?

Is it the way I lay in bed awake at night as a small child, trembling at the thought a smoke alarm might go off, or my appendix might burst, on the simple basis that I had been taught these were real things that could happen? The way that I became- increasingly over the years- certain beyond certain that if I tried to do something and failed, that failure would be inexplicably, yawning, horrifying, devour me beyond anything?

Or was it the great forces beyond my control- politics, wars, plagues, environmental changes? The things I yearned to be a hero against, imagined shining people with swords who had very little in common with me and could vanquish all the world’s ills?

The truth was, I have been very afraid of the world. For all of how I idealized the wolves and lions and eagles that sprang across heraldry, my temperament was more that of the deer- always with my ears and nose to the wind, wondering if that sound was a predator.

The hero classic, shining and triumphant, does not fear. They do not falter or drop their weapon or run away crying, and they absolutely do not linger helpless. Fear is, after all, a darkness- as is the rage that someone might use to overpower fear and fight through it. The pure hero of light throws all darkness away from them like their torch does the cave’s gloom. They are, so very often, explicitly chosen, explicitly marked; there is no way to be mistaken. What to do, and how to do it, are etched in the stars and so nakedly evident that even the beggar-woman in the marketplace can simply peer into their eyes and see that it is true, that it is good.

The truth was, I was not that person, but I dreamed of being them. I dreamed of their existence and importance and I pressed them into words and into art. I wanted to be perfect. Radiant. A knight in shining armor, a champion to others.

As I have grown, I have moved increasingly into the dark, and ironically, it was not because I lost hope.

The truth is, we don’t idealize heroes because they’re perfect. Or at least, we oughtn’t. I know I did, for many years; it was the part of me that pulled a disapproving puzzled frown every time someone suggested there was something to find in the dark I rejected.

The truth is, a hero is a hero because they stand amongst the dark, even if it is not inside them. A hero is not safe at home, comfortable and resting; heroism is a mantle donned in the face of adversity. In the face of horror.

The knight in shining armor, pure and radiant, has an inextricable and dependent relationship with the seething darkness they ostensibly cast down and reject. At its purest, the fantasy classic myth has only two players: the knight and the dragon. The hero and the adversity.

What is the dark? What is our personal dragon? I think that people who experienced more strife from without would have different answers, but for me, I can only see the darkness with a certain lens of pity. In idealizing the hero, I spent far too much of my life carving pieces off. It was not the light that had kindness for what I was- or simply, I lacked the confidence to put the real me into the light. Instead, dreading to look at it or study it at all, I threw it into the caves, into the dark, and it was the dragon that gathered these scraps and held them in its nest.

I could not love myself with the light for the very reason that I idealized it. For the very reason that I wished to only bring the best, prettiest, ideal parts of me, parts that didn’t even need to be mine as much as they needed to be lovely, to the light. I could not sully the shining hero with myself, even as a wretch to be saved.

So it was the dark that saved me; so it was the dark that held my imperfect self.

Returning as an adult, experienced and, I believe, a lot happier as a person, I can see there are oddities to this. Did the hero really never love me, or did I simply not think I deserved heroic love? Is it really heroic, true, pure of heart to reject the dark absolutely, and is there really no interplay of these things?

Is there only the blessed kingdom and the dark forbidding cave, or are there the dappled shadows of tree leaves and stained glass windows, things that are beautiful, things that we don’t want to live without? Is there a crepuscular truth, that intermediates the boundaries of these things?

Is heroism fake, simply because we can idealize it to such a point as to make it chemically sterile, inhospitable to all life?

Or, is it that the beloved glow of the shining knight is real- but can only be seen in the way that imperfect, disappointing things, more of an off-gray- become golden as the midday sun, when they come to save us at our worst?

As I move further into horror, its scrutiny and tropes, I don’t think I have lost fantasy. My roots as a reader and writer are there, and it is the place I think I will always return to. I think that the world is horrific. I think that the world is worth loving.

I think that we do not know our knight in shining armor by the actual color or quality of his clothes, but by the moment he picks up a torch and walks down into the cave. And a cave, after all, is merely rocks, until horror lives there.

[nerdythebard]

#7: Anubis, God of the Dead

Well, now we've done it, Gods and Goddesses!

In our journey through the deserts of Egypt, we took a detour and found ourselves in the Land of the Dead. Now, we are under the watchful eye of Anubis. This psychopomp shall lead us to the Hall of Two Truths, were our soul will judge itself. Let's take a walk, shall we?

Next Time: I AM THE ETERNAL DRAGON! SPEAK YOUR WISH AND I SHALL GRANT IT! Sudden change of plans, dearies... Next time, we take a look at a strapping young lad who knows a thing or two about yard decorations. He got it from his daddy dearest.

So, what can we do to make Anubis chill our enemies to the bone:

Friends on the Other Side: Anubis has a connection to the spirits of the dead. He can grant them a facsimile of life to act on his behalf, damage and slow enemies in a wide AoE.

Crowd Control: Anubis can call upon a plague of locusts to damage enemies in a cone in front of him, as well as keep foes restrained with mummy bandages.

Death Glare: Anubis's Ultimate is a literal death glare, his sight becomes a piercing beam of necrotic energy heavily damaging enemies in front of him.

---

Anubis's D&D race is a much more difficult case than I first imagined. Now, there is a race called Khenra

which would be a dead-ringer for Anubis, but their stats from the Plane Shift: Amonkhet document is... honestly, it's pretty bad and wouldn't make for a nice build.

Instead, let's take a look at the closest we have to a lycanthrope in player options, the Shifter race. More specifically, the Wildhunt Shifter, who are described to often be "the spiritual leaders of the shifter communities", which I'd say fits Anubis pretty well. As a Shifter, we get +2 Wisdom and +1 Dexterity, 30 feet of walking speed, 60 feet of Darkvision, and our only known language is Common. As a Natural Tracker, we get proficiency in Survival skill, and our key trait is our Shifting ability. As a bonus action, we can assume a more beast-like form (in this case, jackal-like). The transformation lasts for 1 minute/until we die/until we dismiss it as a bonus action. When we shift, we get Temporary Hit Points equal to [our level + Constitution modifier], as well as a feature unique to the type of shifter we choose. Wildhunt Shifters gain an advantage on Wisdom checks while shifted, and no creature within 30 feet of them can impose a disadvantage unless the shifter is incapacitated.

For our background, I think picking Acolyte is the most suitable choice. We get proficiencies with Insight and Religion (to better judge the intentions of a soul) and the Shelter of the Faithful feature, which grants us safety at any temple dedicated to the deity we're the acolyte of (either Kelemvor or Jergal are a good option here).

ABILITY SCORES

Anubis is a light armour caster-type, so we're going to focus on those stats. We will start with Dexterity to pull off that leather armour, and follow it with Wisdom; we must be wise in our judgment, and it's also our spellcasting ability. Constitution is next, as it's pretty important for casters to have decent Hit Points.

The stats on the down-low side of things shall be Intelligence, followed by Charisma, and we shall dump Strength.

CLASS

Yet another pure build. To keep the flow of souls at a steady pace and guide them to Osiris's Halls, Anubis is a Cleric.

As a Cleric, we get the d8 as our Hit Dice, [8 + Constitution modifier] initial Hit Points, proficiencies with light armour, medium armour, shields, and simple weapons. For this I suggest a studded leather armour and a dagger (perhaps like the one Egyptians used in the mummification processes, eh? :D), since this is a primarily spell-heavy build. Our saving throws is Wisdom and Charisma and we get to pick two class skills: let's go for Persuasion and History.

---

Level 1 - Clerics are full-casters, so from the very beginning we get our Spellcasting feature. We know cantrips and ritual casting, and we get access to the entire Cleric spell list, from which we can prepare a number of spells equal to [our Wisdom modifier + our Cleric level]. Starting with cantrips, we get to select three:

Guidance lets us give a creature we touch an extra d4 to their next skill check performed within 1 minute of casting (concentration). Very useful for "skill monkeys" like rogues or bards.

Sacred Flame is a good source of radiant damage. It requires a Dexterity saving throw from a target within 60 feet of us, or results in 1d8 radiant damage (damage increases with our level).

Toll the Dead fits Anubis's theme. Calls the soul for their final judgement. Forces onto them a Wisdom saving throw. On a failed save, the target take 1d8 necrotic damage. If they already have some Hit Points missing, they take 1d12 damage instead.

We start with two 1st-level spell slots and we can prepare four 1st-level spells:

Bless gives up to three creatures of our choice an extra d4 to all attack rolls and saving throws for 1 minute (concentration).

Cure Wounds is THE staple healing spell at lower levels, and it reflects Anubis's theme of preparing and embalming the body for their journey to the afterlife. A creature we touch regains [1d8 + our spellcasting modifier] Hit Points. It doesn't work on undead or constructs.

Guiding Bolt deals 4d6 radiant damage and applies advantage to the next attack roll made against the target (it can be ours or somebody else's).

Sanctuary protects a creature from harm for 1 minute. When attacking somebody who's under the effect of Sanctuary, the attacker must make a Wisdom saving throw or choose a different target.

We're not done with Level 1 features yet, because that is also where Clerics get their subclass, their Divine Domain. There are two official subclasses that mention Anubis by name, but for this build I feel like Grave Domain works best. As a Grave Cleric we get access to some more spells - those are always prepared for us and we don't count them against the number of spells we can prepare:

Bane works similarly to Bless, except the target has to make a Charisma saving throw or subtract 1d4 from each attack roll and saving throw they make for 1 minute (concentration).

False Life transforms necromantic energy into a facsimile of life, giving us 1d4+4 Temporary Hit Points for 1 hour (or until they're lost).

Grave Cleric's first subclass feature is Circle of Mortality, which boosts our healing spells. Where normally we would have to roll dice on healing spells (like 1d8 on Curse Wounds), we can instead automatically use the highest number on the die. We also learn Spare the Dying cantrip, which saves a fallen creature from making Death Saves. For us, the cantrip has 30 feet reach instead of touch.

We also get Eyes of the Grave. It works similarly to the Paladin's Divine Sense except this one only shows us the undead present within 60 feet of us.

And that's it for Level 1. Clerics, man... they're early game powerhouses.

Level 2 - This level gives us access to the Channel Divinity feature, which lets us tap into the Divine Energy of our deity to perform amazing features. For now, we can use it once per short or long rest. All Clerics get the Turn Undead effect - each undead within 30 feet of us must make a Wisdom saving throw or become turned (they cannot move towards us within 30 feet, and must spend their turn trying to move away from us as far as they can) for 1 minute. The Grave Domain gives us another CD effect - Path to the Grave. This effect curses a target of our choice within 30 feet of us, until the end of our next turn. During that time, the next attack that damages a target makes it vulnerable to that damage type (damage dealt increases by half) and the curse ends.

We also get a new spell - Inflict Wounds deals 3d10 necrotic damage on a successful touch.

Level 3 - We unlock 2nd-level spell slots. This means, we can now get a 2nd-level spell: Hold Person forces a Wisdom saving throw on one (or more, if using higher-level spell slots) humanoid target within 60 feet. On a failed save the target is paralysed for 1 minute (concentration). Flavour it as mummy bandages and we've got one Anubis ability down.

Our subclass also grants us two spells at this point:

Gentle Repose prevents a corpse from decay and turning into an undead (suck it, Ah Puch!). Useful if you cannot afford the resurrection of one of your party members, but besides that, it's pretty situational.

Ray of Enfeeblement is like a demo version of Anubis's Ultimate. On a successful hit, the target's damage that uses Strength deals only half the normal amount for 1 minute (concentration).

Level 4 - Time for our first Ability Score Improvement! Let's get some better HP with 1 point in Constitution, and we'll put the other point in Wisdom.

We get another cantrip: Thaumaturgy gives a list of multiple effects we can perform for, lasting for 1 minute (making our voice louder, dimming and brightening lights, locking and unlocking doors and windows, etc.)

We also get another spell: Blindness/Deafness forces a Constitution saving throw on one creature within 30 feet. If they fail, they are blinded or deafened (our choice) for 1 minute. They can repeat the saving throw on each of their turns to try and shake off the effect.

Level 5 - At this level, our Turn Undead becomes Destroy Undead. It works only on the undead with the CR of 1/2 and below (shadows, zombies, skeletons, etc.), but if they fail their saving throw, they are instantly destroyed.

We also unlock 3rd-level spell slots and spells: Speak with Dead lets us reanimate a corpse for a short while (10 minutes), enough to ask it five questions. The dead can answer only what they knew in life, and the answers are usually brief/cryptic. They may also lie if we're the one that killed them, or they're hostile in general.

Additionally, we get two more spells from our subclass:

Revivify might go against Anubis's ways, but it is a staple Cleric spell. Sacrificing a diamond worth at least 300 gold pieces, we bring a creature who died within the last minute to life with 1 Hit Point. The spell doesn't restore missing body parts.

Vampiric Touch lets us deal 3d6 necrotic damage to a creature we can touch, and give us the same amount of Hit Points. Until the spell ends (1 minute, concentration), we can use the spell again as action without a need to make a spell attack.

Level 6 - Our Channel Divinity has now two uses between rests, and we gain a new subclass upgrade. Sentinel at Death's Door is one of the more annoying features in all of D&D (speaking from the DM's point of view here). Whenever a creature within 30 feet of us is attacked with a Critical Hit (Natural 20 roll, doubles damage dealt), we can use our reaction to cancel that critical and turn it into regular damage.

Spirit Guardians is a spell that summons a horde of spirits in a 15 feet radius from us. We can select who is unaffected by the spirits when we cast it. Those who are affected have their speed halved, and whenever they end their turn within the spirits' radius (and first time walk into it) must make a Wisdom saving throw or take 3d8 radiant damage (if we're good/neutral; if we're evil, it's necrotic. Half damage on a successful save).

Level 7 - Here, we only unlock 4th-level spell slots.

We get two more subclass spells: Banishment forces a Charisma saving throw on one target within 60 feet. On a failed save, the target disappears from the Plane it resides on. (right into the Shadow Realm! Egyptian Underworld) If the target isn't native to the Plane it disappeared from, it returns to its home Plane. If the target is native to the Plane it disappeared from, it gets transported into a pocket demiplane. If nothing interrupts our concentration for the entire duration of the spell (1 minute), the banished target doesn't come back (non-native), or it returns to the same space (native).

We also have subclass spells here:

Blight drains vitality from one creature within 30 feet of us. They must succeed on a Constitution saving throw, or take 8d8 necrotic damage (half damage on a successful save). It doesn't work on the undead or constructs, but if the target is a plant creature or a magical plant, it makes the save with disadvantage and receives the maximum possible amount of damage (64). If the target is a non-magical plant, it doesn't make a save - just withers instantly.

Death Ward prevents a person's death before their scheduled time. A creature we touch gains protection against being killed for 8 hours. If they drop to 0 Hit Points, they immediately recover one point. Any effect that causes instant death (such as a trap, a curse, or even Power Word: Kill) is also blocked.

Level 8 - We get another ASI. Let's get a +1 Wisdom and +1 Constitution again.

Because of our Wisdom modifier changing from 3 to 4, we now can get two new spells at this level. For this, I'd actually suggest taking just one spell and ask your DM whether we can save the remaining one for later. Otherwise, pick any throwaway spell to replace later.

Guardian of Faith summons a Large-sized spectre at a point within 30 feet of us for 8 hours (no concentration). Any creature moving within 10 feet of the guardian must make a Dexterity saving throw or take 20 points of (unspecified) damage (half damage on a success). The guardian disappears after dealing a total of 60 points of damage.

Level 9 - We unlock 5th-level spells here. If we have an empty spell from the previous level, we can now take two spells here. Plus, we also get two spells from our subclass!

Greater Restoration is a great healing spell. It is able to remove one curse/petrification/charm/reduction of Hit Points Maximum on top of removing one level of exhaustion. Really useful.

Insect Plague basically lets us re-enact the Prince of Egypt. We fill a 20-foot-radius sphere with a swarm of buzzing, biting locust. All creatures within the sphere have to make a Constitution saving throw or take 4d10 piercing damage (half damage on a successful one). This saving throw must also be done when entering the sphere or ending the turn in it.

Now, for the spells from our subclass:

Antilife Shell creates a 10-foot-radius dome around us. It lasts for 1 hour (concentration) and during that time, nothing organic/alive can enter the barrier. Only undead and constructs can get through. It also lets in projectiles and spells.

Raise Dead is what happens when Anubis says 'I quit'. The spell targets one corpse that died within the last 10 days and brings it back to life with 1 Hit Point. The raised creature gets post-resurrectional penalty of -4 to all of their saving throws, attack rolls, and ability checks. The penalty is reduced by 1 for each long rest taken.

Level 10 - Halfway through the build and we receive one of the Cleric's best feature. With Divine Intervention we can petition our patron deity to directly help us with a problem. We roll a percentile dice and if the result is equal to or lower than our Cleric level, the prayer is successful. The interpretation of 'divine help' is up to our DM; it can be a vision, a single-use spell that's gonna be helpful, etc. If the prayer is successful, we cannot use this feature for a week. If the prayer fails, we can try again after finishing a long rest.

We get our final cantrip: Word of Radiance is a good anti-close range spell. It forces a Constitution saving throw on all creatures within 5 feet of us, and deals 1d6 radiant damage on a failed one (damage scales as we level up).

For our next spell, Holy Weapon infuses our weapon with divine energy for 1 hour (concentration). The weapon sheds bright light in 30 feet radius (and dim light for another 30), it becomes magical for the purpose of overcoming resistances, and all successful attacks deal extra 2d8 radiant damage for the whole duration of the spell.

Level 11 - Our Destroy Undead effect of Channel Divinity gets enhanced. It now affects undead with a CR of 2 or lower (ghouls, spectres, poltergeists, will-o'-wisps, etc.).

We also gain access to 6th-level spells. Find the Path represents Anubis's role as a guide of souls. It can last up to 1 day (concentration) and allows us to find the shortest and most direct path to a location we name that we're familiar with.

Level 12 - Time for another ASI! First, let's round up our Constitution to a nice, even number, and then let's start boosting our weaker abilities by raising our Charisma.

For this level's spell, Planar Ally allows us to summon an otherworldly minion (celestial, elemental, or fiend), which we could ask to carry out a small task in exchange for payment. The creature is under no obligation to listen to us but can be bargained with.

Level 13 - We don't get a class feature this time, only unlock 7th-level spell slots. With Etherealness, we can step into the spirit world for a brief amount of time (up to 8 hours, no concentration). While inside the Ethereal Plane, we can only interact with creatures from that plane. We see and hear into the Plane we departed from and can move in any direction (moving up and down costs +1 foot for every foot of movement). We can also pass through objects and walls of the Material Plane.

Level 14 - We have upgrade to our Destroy Undead effect. It can now affect the undead with a CR of 3 or lower (mummies, wights, phantom warriors, etc.).

With Regenerate, we restore one target's health by 4d8+15 Hit Points. Following that, for 1 hour the target recovers 1 Hit Point per turn (10 HP per minute) until reaching their Hit Point Maximum. The spell also regrows missing organs and limbs 2 minutes after casting.

Level 15 - Once again, no new class features. We do unlock 8th-level spell slots. Antimagic Field creates a 10-foot-radius invisible sphere, where no magic can exist; spells fizzle out, summoned creatures disappear, magic items become regular. When you stand before the final judgment, no magic will help you.

Level 16 - We get another ASI. Let's raise our Charisma and Strength.

Although we do have access to 8th-level spells now, we can back up for a moment and take Planar Shift. This spell lets us travel into another Plane of Existence, as long as we a metal rod worth at least 250 gold pieces and is attuned to our desired destination. The spell transports us, along with up to eight willing creatures. Alternatively, we can banish a creature within our melee range into the particular Plane, granted they fail a Charisma saving throw.

Level 17 - This is a big one. First of all, our Destroy Undead reaches another upgrade, allowing us to disintegrate undead with a CR of 4 or lower (the banshee, ghosts, flameskulls, deathlocks, etc.).

We also get our final subclass upgrade - Keeper of Souls. If a creature we can see dies within 60 feet of us, we can choose another creature we can see within 60 feet and restore their Hit Point by the now-deceased enemy's remaining Hit Dice. We can use this feature once per turn.

At this level, we also unlock the pinnacle of Divine Magic - 9th-level spells. True Resurrection can restore a creature who has been dead for no longer than 200 years back to life with a full amount of Hit Points. The spell closes wounds, restores missing limbs, lifts curses, and neutralizes poison and disease. It turns undead into their non-undead form. If there is no body to resurrect, the spell can provide a new body for the soul to inhabit. The only thing the spell cannot restore is if death came from old age.

Level 18 - Our Channel Divinity feature can now be used three times in-between rest.

Mass Heal is a powerful restorative spell, which targets all creatures within 60 feet of us. We can restore a total of 700 Hit Points, divided evenly between all creatures affected, who are also healed from all diseases as well as blindness or deafness. The spell doesn't work on constructs and undead.

Level 19 - We get our final ASI of this build. Before the final boss battle, let's boost our Constitution by 2.

Gate creates a portal linked into another Plane of Existence. We can determine a specific destination by naming a location in the target Plane. The portal lasts for 1 minute (concentration). Alternatively, we can name a creature we know resides in the target Plane and pull them through the portal into our location.

(yes, Doctor Strange is a Cleric in D&D terms, fight me!)

Level 20 - Our build capstone is Divine Intervention Improvement. At this level, whenever we decide to use our Divine Intervention hotline, the prayer is always successful, without a need to roll.

For our final spell, we get Astral Projection

The spell makes us and eight willing creatures go on a trip into the Astral Sea. Our soul leaves the body (which is in suspended animation, requiring no food, air, and doesn't age) and enters the dimension of pure thought and psychic energy. There is a series of rules in the spell description, but it can be used to survey other planes of existence by entering the right colourful portal.

---

And that's the end of it. Anubis, the Egyptian psychopomp. Let's see how we did:

We have good abilities, two 18s and a 16 where it counts, average Hit Points of 151 and 15 AC with studded leather armour. We're not the designated HealBot, but we have a few good higher-level healing spells for when things go sour.

Can't wait to show you folks the next one. I have a feeling some of you might enjoy it!

- Nerdy out!

[sychjelly]

-‘๑’- excerpt 01

彡 From  ‟ born from stone, she was a flower in the night ”.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

He can still clearly recall her features and accurately retell them, remembering even to the slightest details like the scar she had on her thigh, obtained through a nasty scuffle with the other gods. She donned a beautiful white gown with golden cranes embroidered in the silk, golden flowers lining the edges and sleeves. On her head would lie a stunning glaze lily, its colors always so vivid and alive despite being removed from its soil. 

Her silky white hair was kept up by a delicate golden pin that bore the design of a majestic dragon, accompanied by the many gold accessories that lay in her hair like petals from a cherry tree. Everytime she opened her eyes would be comparable to seeing the ocean, so carefree and livid, full of new things to explore and see. But her eyes had always carried sadness within them, and back then, he had been too young to understand. 

Or perhaps he was too naïve instead.

She had the ability to glance into the future, and while she didn't have the strength and willpower of Morax, she would do everything she can to prevent a tragic end, even as to go as far as to beg another god for help. Yet she couldn't prevent the most tragic end of all. 

Her own demise. 

He can still remember it. Remember everything that happened. Remember the day he had lost her to the corruption. 

It wasn't a sudden thing - and he wished that it had been instead, hoped that it would have been short termed. The corruption turned those infected into monsters, beings with no mind nor no emotion. They harbored the cruelest, most ruthless creatures there ever existed, infecting their once pure minds like a plague. It wasn't contagious, as if the virus had a mind of its own, always going for something far stronger than its current host. 

It was a parasite.

A parasite that could infect the Gods, but it had been their job to seal away those bad spirits that had been exposed to it. Or even seal the parasite entirely, of which Morax had done and has continued till this day. 

He still remembers the day when she had come to him, a gentle smile on her face as they embraced. As they pulled away, he could see the bittersweetness in her clear blue eyes with a strange sense of forewarning. But she didn't warn him of anything, rather, she had told him to promise her something. 

"If I ever do get corrupted, please have mercy on my soul and kill me." 

He had been shocked to hear that. Completely shocked to the bone. 

"I will protect you. I won't let you get infected." He had protested, but all she did was shake her head. Those eyes bore the pain of experience - but of what, he didn't know. 

"Please, Morax. It would do us no good if I live as a corrupt being." She continued to plead, her voice shaky. 

Not wanting to continue on such an unbearable topic any further, all he could do was nod and promise her her wish. Unknowingly, he had promised her a promise that he'd regret for the rest of his life, for he only thought that the corruption would never reach her soul. 

He was wrong to think she would be spared from such a plague. 

Decades passed smoothly with no obstacle, until that fateful day came knocking at his door. 

It was the middle of the night, where the moon was at its highest, that he heard a loud cry for help in the valleys of Liyue. He had none to do, and decided to investigate. The plea of a commoner that had wandered into the Adepti's territory, he had thought naïvely, but he hadn't expected it to be the plea of a human for a god to save another. 

There she lay, shadowed in darkness, cloaked in a black that wasn't her own. It stained her clothes, spread across her body like a plague, corrupting her body and soul with every passing second, the darkness consuming her whole. Only then he truly felt fear - the fear of loss. 

How she had been infected, he did not know. But he knew something. He had to help. 

He had rushed to her aid, his arms embracing her body as she writhed in his grasp, the darkness gnawing at her skin and bones. Yet her eyes, her eyes still kept the same crystal blue that had always met his with such fondness. Though he knows, he knows that same pureness wouldn't last. 

"You promised me something, Morax." She had said to him in his arms, her body trembling like a leaf in the wind. Despite that, her gaze was solid and strong, her eyes piercing through his own with such intensity. He can recall, he knows what she's referring to, but he cannot bear to think of it.

"Guizhong… please, I cannot-" He had begun, but quickly fell short of his words when he couldn't find anything to say. Nothing but worry clouded his eyes, and he found himself backed into a corner for the very first time. He'd do something - anything - but he well knew that once the corruption had its firm hold on someone, it would not let go. 

If she had told him before, showed him her corrupted wounds… 

Tears stung his eyes like needles. 

"It would be better. For all of us." Her hand rose to caress his cheek, a gentle smile spreading across her features. Her smile was a smile like none other, full of warmth and love for him. It was genuine, real… real. But it was short-lived for she succumbed to a fit of messy coughs right after, dark red mixed with hideous shades of purple splattering onto the ground below them. 

He couldn't move. Couldn't think. 

"I can't let you go… not like this." Was all he could muster, teeth gritting in regret as he felt her body grow colder. He had desperately cast a sealing spell in hopes of stopping the parasite or perhaps even seal it entirely, but the magic in his palm faded whenever he tried.

She was too far infected to cure, but he didn't let himself come to that conclusion. 

"There has to be some way. There has to be." His voice cracked with heartbreak as he continued to try everything he could think of, going so far as to cast the most complicated spells at the risk of his own strength. Everything failed, and all Guizhong could do was look on silently as his efforts took no root. 

"It won't be long, Morax." Her voice became raspy, rough from the coughs that erupted from her chest. He could hear her lungs wheeze in effort everytime she spoke, and he could feel his heart shatter all the more. The corruption had begun making its way over to her face, infecting her pale cheeks with a dark shade of devilish purple. 

"Guizhong, please, stay with me." His own voice had turned into a meek one, like a child going to their parents after a horrible nightmare. He lay his hand on her chest and rested his head on hers, his eyes shut tight with heartache. Her hand gently caressed over his, their slim fingers intertwining. 

"When I turn, I will no longer be Guizhong." She had whispered in such a quiet voice, her once blue eyes heavy with tiredness. The pain fizzled in her body like electricity, and she found herself losing her feelings in her limbs. All she could do was lift her free hand slowly, up to caress Morax's scarred cheek. 

"I know that." He'd murmured, biting back his tears, hand squeezing hers with such desperation. He couldn't cry now. He didn't want her last image of him to be one of tears. 

"Then you of all people, should know what must be done." 

He could feel his nose turn sour. And he felt something cold roll down his cheeks. He knows what it is, feels what it is, but he doesn't hold back - the emotional pain was like a wave, crashing onto him with such force and sheer impact. 

"But you're still you. Please, Guizhong. Stay with me." He pleads, his heart cracking with heartache. Every part of him was pitiful, and he was supposed to be a god of stone. Yet he was shattering, breaking into a million pieces before a Goddess that had failed her own people. 

"Time is not on our side, Morax." She'd urged him once more, her own hand squeezing his. She smiled sadly, leaning closer into his chest. Tears soaked into his robe, and he realised that it wasn't just his own. "Always remember that I will be by your side, no matter what happens… even after my mortal vessel expires."

She gave him the brightest smile as she spoke, and he burned that smile into his brain for he knew it would be her last.

As she raised her head once more, her eyes flickered open with an aura of hostility, an unreadable look on her face. Her eyes were no longer the crystal blues they once were - now they harbored nothing but the effects of the corruption. They were purple, black slitted, and there was nothing but hatred and anger that flared within like a wildfire. 

It was then Morax knew for good that she was gone. 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ this post is just to kick start things. this is but a small excerpt of the 4k words i wrote while sleep deprived :D

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ anyway, hope you enjoyed, if you’d want to read the entire thing, link is here ✦ !

[seventhstrife]

SubScorp Week 2021 Day 3: AU Part 2

I hate that I have no self-control and have to make multiple posts for this lolololol

On AO3.

Part 1

When Hanzo woke, he knew immediately that he was not alone.

His eyes snapped open and he lurched upright, disoriented and tense.

His surroundings were unfamiliar, a fact that filled him with certain dread. His last memory was of trying to leave the bed of snow he'd been pushed into, how the dragon had only allowed him to stand so that it could nestle him into its side and curl up as if for a long rest. He remembered the deep, content cadence of its sigh as it settled with its huge head on Hanzo's lap.

As cold as it was, smothered in the dragon's hold, he'd been oddly...warm. And while Hanzo was no one's pet or prisoner, he was not so foolish as to disturb such a fearsome creature when its mood was in such a mercurial state, weakened and tired as it was. He'd resigned himself to being a dragon's pillow and had fallen asleep right there, hopeful that he could slip away in the small hours of the morning.

But waking up in an entirely new place had not been part of the plan. He barely took in the dark, polished stone of the room he was in or the thick furs that covered him across the lavish four-poster bed.

His surroundings were terrible for their strangeness, but what was worse was the man seated on the bed beside him, legs crossed, watching him. It was hard to see in the scant light that poured through the window as the sun just barely began to rise, but he thought he could just detect a small smile on those bearded lips.

"Good morning," the man greeted in a low, pleasant tone.

Hanzo went rigid. His hand snapped down to his side, but his weapons were gone—of course.

He risked exposing himself, but allowing capture was worse.

He summoned his flames, of a mind to send the man across the room with a ball of fire before he could so much as twitch—but the moment his light banished the shadows from the man's face, Hanzo stilled.

...It was his eyes. Pale white, nearly translucent, but in the flickering pulse of Hanzo's flames, they shined with a breathtaking iridescence that shifted with countless colors.

Pale-skinned and broad-shouldered, muscular arms bared by his dark robes, thick black hair pushed back from his face and beard trimmed short—he truly was a stranger to Hanzo in every sense of the word.

But, that scar. Those eyes. Hanzo knew those eyes.

The man's smile grew slightly, as if he knew exactly what Hanzo was thinking, and he threaded his fingers together, planted his elbows on his spread knees and perched his chin atop his hands, as if to better study Hanzo.

"Do you recognize me, pyromancer?"

Hanzo pursed his lips, wary. But even when he glared harder, tried to see some sort of flaw or deception, his eyes continued to scream a single truth.

But he did not have to admit it.

"I—I am clearly unwell," Hanzo said instead.

Without taking his eyes off of the man, he backed up until he was at the edge of the bed and quickly stood, head darting around as he tried to get his bearings, find the door. He looked back to the stranger and curled his fingers into a fist, flames threatening on the horizon.

"Why have you brought me here?"

"As impressive as your fire magic is," the man answered, "You would have succumbed to the cold. I thought it best to bring you to my home."

His home? Just judging from the simple, yet refined furnishings and ornate, carved walls, Hanzo assumed he was in some sort of palace.

His brow furrowed. This was making less and less sense. Some traveling lord had stumbled upon Hanzo and had simply—taken him in? In what appeared to be his own chambers?

No nobleman was that kind or giving. Hanzo knew.

Hanzo's skin itched with the desire to flee. Unfamiliar surroundings, unfamiliar company—he did not have any wish to linger here, at the mercy of this strange man and his stranger (familiar) eyes.

"Whatever you intended by bringing me here, it does not matter." Hanzo's face hardened. "You will not keep me here."

"No," the man agreed softly, making Hanzo pause. He was still smiling. "I imagine you do not succumb to anyone's will but your own."

The words caused a flicker of uncertainty to pass through him, though he did not allow it to show on his face. Why was nothing about this man proceeding as he expected? If Hanzo woke up, kidnapped to some strange, impossible palace in a snow-plagued, forsaken mountain, he should be caged. His captor should be talking to him through the bars of a prison, in his personal dungeon, not casually and comfortably sitting on his bed while Hanzo threatened to burn him.

...Somehow, some way, this is a trick. It must be.

It felt safer not to speak, so Hanzo did not. His eyes darted to the door, waiting across the room and, unfortunately, behind the man.

"Your weapons are there," the man said, gesturing with a wide sweep of his arm behind Hanzo, and indeed, when he warily glanced over his shoulder, he saw the overlooked table tucked into the corner of the room, where his blades had been laid neatly and carefully across a length of soft cloth. "Forgive me for taking the liberty, but I thought it best to divest you of them so you could rest more comfortably."

Hanzo glared at the man for a long moment. He only slept comfortably when he was armed these days.

Still, Hanzo accepted the invitation to take his things and he did so in quick, efficient movements, keeping the stranger in his line of sight at all times—not that it mattered, as the man did not so much as a twitch from the moment he'd awoken. His eyes tracked Hanzo without a blink and it was perhaps that which kept Hanzo on his guard. His utter stillness, the watching—Hanzo was rested, armed, and could think of a dozen ways to incapacitate this man in a few seconds, yet he felt overwhelmingly like an unwitting creature, soft and vulnerable, ignorant of the hunter in his midst, readying for the pounce.

Hanzo glanced at the door, had no more than thought of taking his first step towards the exit when the man spoke once more.

"Of course, you may leave whenever you wish," he said genially. "But you did not answer my question, pyromancer."

Hanzo's lips thinned. Uncertainty and unease blossomed in his chest.

"...no, I did not. I will not."

The stranger's head tilted and an expression of open amusement alighted on his face.

"Is it so terrible to accept?"

"It is impossible," Hanzo stressed, eyes narrowing. But, despite himself, his determination to fight faltered. He could not deny a certain curiosity, for all that he did not believe in magic such as this.

The man shrugged, affable as ever. It made Hanzo glare at him even more fiercely. It was irksome, how agreeable he was being...

Finally, the man moved, gave his back to Hanzo as he swung his legs off the bed and rose. Hanzo tensed when the man faced him and approached.

"That is far enough," Hanzo said in warning, raising two burning fists when the man was just outside of arm's reach.

"I have sheltered you and returned your weapons," the man pointed out. "Can you not accept I mean you no harm?"

"That remains to be seen," Hanzo replied, stiff.

Still, the man only seemed amused. He placed a palm on his breast, directly over his heart, and bowed, deeply.

"Then allow me to introduce myself. I am Kuai Liang."

A strange name for a strange man. It was oddly fitting.

Kuai Liang rose and those pale eyes of his fixed on Hanzo with the same intensity that had yet to lessen since Hanzo had first met them.

"May I know your name, pyromancer?"

Hanzo almost refused him, simply on principle. But...Kuai Liang had sheltered him in his home, had given him back his weapons, and he had shown no sign of wishing harm upon him.

It went against every instinct within him, but slowly, warily, Hanzo lowered his arms as the flames in his hands gutted, leaving behind smooth, unblemished skin.

"...Hanzo. Hanzo Hisashi."

Kuai Liang's eyes brightened with pleasure.

"Hanzo Hisashi," he repeated. The way he seemed to savor it—Hanzo could feel his hackles rising once more. "It is a pleasure to meet you." Kuai Liang stepped to the side, gestured with an open palm to the door. "Allow me to escort you," he said. "I'm afraid you will be easily lost without a guide."

Hearing that this building was that great a size did nothing to ease Hanzo's unease, but he supposed he had no choice.

"Very well."

Kuai Liang smiled.

Hanzo had hoped for a quick, silent walk, and to be able to put this entire strange encounter from his mind forever. Instead, when they'd only just left Kuai Liang's chambers, his stomach gave a loud, insistent cry.

Hanzo kept his gaze firmly on the ground, mortified as Kaui Liang turned to him in a sharp, surprised movement.

After a slight pause, Kuai Liang offered, "I have food if you wish—"

"No." Hanzo took a deep breath, tried to will back the rise of heat he could feel on his face. It was more important to leave this place. He could hunt for something once he was gone. "I am fine."

And, of course, his body chose that moment to betray him once more with another growl, sudden and painful enough he could not check the urge to hold his aching stomach. He could not remember the last time he had a decent, filling meal...

"I'm afraid I must insist," Kuai Liang said in a tone that brooked no argument. "I would be a poor host if I did not see you fed and prepped for your long journey down the mountain.”

Hanzo attempted to protest, but it was a losing battle and he was forced to follow after Kuai Liang, lest he truly be lost in his vast palace.

It was harder to remember the urgent need to be gone from this place when the smell of cooked meat grew stronger the further they went, and then impossible when Kuai Liang opened the door to a small cooking room, where a large flank of meat was still roasting over an open fire against the far wall.

The smell was heavenly and Hanzo was briefly hypnotized by the sight of hot, sizzling fat dripping from the meat, how it fell into the fire with a soft hiss and caused new bursts of the incredible aroma to permeate the room.

Perhaps...there was no harm in eating—so that he would not collapse on his hike, of course. It was only sensible to accept a meal when it was offered freely.

He tried not to seem too eager when he sat at the small wooden table Kuai Liang beckoned him to, but when Kuai Liang carved a generous portion of meat onto a large platter and served it to him, his smile twitched, threatening to grow wider at whatever expression Hanzo had.

It was slightly embarrassing, being caught so obviously, but Hanzo did not care the moment the meat first touched his tongue. Hot, tender venison, succulent and delicious. If he were a weaker man, he might weep.

For a while, there was only silence as he ate. It was not until he'd partially satiated his aching stomach that he realized Kuai Liang had not served himself.

He glanced up, unnerved to find Kuai Liang watching him, chin propped in one hand, a slight smile still lingering on his lips.

He appeared so...satisfied, by the sight of Hanzo eating. It made Hanzo freeze.

He glared.

"...Stop watching me," Hanzo demanded.

Kuai Liang's smile widened, but he acquiesced, leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. He tilted his head back against the back of his chair and closed his eyes, looked for all the world as if he were simply meditating.

The way he kept instantly accomodating Hanzo—it was very annoying.

Hanzo resumed eating but did not stop glaring at Kuai Liang, trying—in vain—to puzzle him out. If Kuai Liang was aware of his staring, he did not seem bothered by it in the least.

This vast palace, Kuai Liang's own status, seemingly that of a man of wealth and power—he did not make sense. In Hanzo's travels, he had never heard of such a person having domain over this corner of the land, and yet here he was.

Who are you, truly?

His curiosity could not be denied, no matter how much he tried to quell it.

"Where are the people?" Hanzo finally asked.

It was perhaps not his most pressing question, but it was the one that was safer to ask. Down the labyrinthine halls to this modest cook's area, Hanzo had not seen nor heard so much as a whisper of another soul. Even here, in what was clearly a servant's domain, there was no one else to be found. Yet, a palace so large would need a large staff to maintain it.

Kuai Liang's eyes opened. "There are none."

Hanzo frowned, chews slowing, but Kuai Liang did not take back his words, just watched Hanzo back.

"...You live here by yourself?"

Kuai Liang inclined his head.

"How is that possible?"

Finally, Kuai Liang glanced away from him. His eyes dropped and his entire demeanor was suddenly—dampened, somehow. A subtle sort of sadness crept over Kuai Liang and it made Hanzo forget all about the sharp hunger pains that had burrowed into the pit of his stomach.

"Like you, I am the last of my kind."

...Oh. It was no secret that Hanzo's people were long gone—hunted to the brink of extinction for nothing more than sport. Mercenaries and outlaws, lowlifes and lords alike had participated in the massacre, eager to boast their fighting skills and claim the prestige of slaying an exotic, powerful pyromancer. If any of Hanzo's people still walked the lands, Hanzo had not met them. He hoped he never would. They were safer—he was safer, alone.

A life of constant movement, never settling anywhere, never staying in one town long enough for anyone to learn his name—it was a life he'd resigned himself to, one he thought, perhaps, suited him, even, but there were times when he felt the aching bite of loneliness. Of a muted, mourning despair that he would pass from this world without a single soul to notice his absence.

It was not a life he would wish on anyone.

"I...I am sorry," Hanzo finally said. At least he traveled, could outrun his feelings when they threatened to unmake him completely. To walk the same empty halls, day after day, ceaselessly reminded of a time they were full of life—he shied from even imagining it.

Kuai Liang blinked and a rueful smile replaced the understated, melancholic expression. Somehow, the smile made Hanzo's chest ache more.

"It was a long time ago," Kuai Liang dismissed.

Hanzo was not placated. He looked straight into Kuai Liang's eyes.

"But it is still difficult," he observed quietly, and Kuai Liang's smile, absurdly, stretched just a little bigger.

"You see right through me."

He stood, took Hanzo's demolished plate and returned to the roasting spit.

"No man is a fortress, and I am afraid I am no exception to this rule."

His voice was soft and steady as he refilled Hanzo's plate with another generous portion, but even when he set the dish before him, Hanzo could not move his eyes from Kuai Liang, aware of how something more lingered in the air, the same something that had remained unspoken since he'd awoken.

Kuai Liang did not return to his seat. He stood, looking down at Hanzo, and the impression that his next words would be important grew.

"I rarely leave my home. I hunt what I need and want for little else. But I have grown weary of solitude. And, if you'll forgive my forwardness," and here Kuai Liang broke eye contact, straightened, and crossed his arms behind his back. He took a moment, and Hanzo found himself all but holding his breath.

"I came down from the mountain in search of a mate." Kuai Liang's pale eyes met his, and the earlier look of determination intensified. "And I have found one. You."

A ringing silence stretched.

Hanzo's mouth opened, closed. Opened again. But there were no words. He could not think of a single thing he could say to such a proclamation.

His face felt hot.

Kuai Liang's head tilted. "Have I broken you?" he asked, amused.

His tone finally snapped Hanzo out of his shocked stupor and he stood, his chair scraping loudly against the wood floor.

"I—You—NO."

"We are well-suited for one another," Kuai Liang argued.

"You know nothing about me and—" Abruptly, Hanzo realized how completely absurd this conversation was. "Absolutely not."

"I know that you are brave, honorable, and compassionate." When Hanzo opened his mouth to protest, Kuai Liang stepped closer, just past the bounds of propriety, but Hanzo could not muster the will to burn him. "It would have been easier to leave me to die, but you intervened on my behalf, and even tended to my wounds. What more proof do I need of your worthiness?"

Hanzo stared at Kuai Liang, stricken. He had been ignoring the obvious, glaring fact that had been shouting at him since he'd first met Kuai Liang's eyes, but now that truth refused to be ignored.

His brow furrowed and he stared into Kuai Liang's eyes, wished he could doubt his own, but could not.

"You...you really are the dragon from before..." It was impossible, ridiculous—but the evidence was too plain to ignore.

Kuai Liang smiled. "I knew you were the one the moment we looked at one another." Another step closer, where their chests nearly touched, and Hanzo told himself he would push Kuai Liang away and run—in just a moment. "My ice, it can be unpleasant for a normal human. And in moments of passion, even harmful."

Kuai Liang raised his hand, slowly, tentatively, and though a part of Hanzo's mind, defensive and wary, screamed that he use his flames, now, he did not want to harm Kuai Liang.

The gentle, cool touch of Kuai Liang's fingers brushed across the stubble on his cheek, whisper-soft.

"But with your abilities, you could withstand me." Kuai Liang's eyes fell, hooded and dark with desire. His gaze seemed to pierce straight through. "Yes, you could withstand me well. You are very strong."

"We are complete opposites," Hanzo argued, because clearly he was the only one who had not taken leave of his senses.

"Opposites, yes," Kuai Liang agreed. "But also equals. Compliments. I would have it no other way."

"Well, I will not have you," Hanzo claimed hotly, and his eyes narrowed in a fierce glare.

Far from seeming dismayed by his refusal, Kuai Liang only watched Hanzo as if he were an intriguing puzzle.

"You find me unsuitable in some way?" he asked. "Or, perhaps, you bear the claim of another?"

"I—" It would have been better, to lie, but that was one skill Hanzo had never possessed. "That is not—"

Triumph surged to Kuai Liang's gaze. "If I must prove myself, you need only say so. I can offer you much."

Hanzo finally pushed away Kuai Liang's touch with a sweep of his arm and took a few steps back. He would not hear any more.

"I do not want anything from you. I do not belong here, with you, in—that way. Whatever you believe you see in me, you are mistaken."

"I see only that which you have shown me." Kuai Liang watched him steadily, so sure. "You could have a home here. You would no longer have to hide who you truly are, or be forced to run any longer. You could be free."

Hanzo sucked in a sharp breath, shook his head harshly in the next instant. "You—you can not promise that."

"I can," Kuai Liang simply said.

He pushed Hanzo's chair out of his way, closed the distance between them once more. Hanzo flinched away the first time Kuai Liang reached for him, but Kuai Liang only paused, waited patiently, before resuming the movement. And the look in his eyes, gentle yet firm, kept Hanzo still when he took Hanzo's hand.

Kuai Liang raised Hanzo's hand, placed his palm atop it so he cradled him in his grip like something precious. Hanzo could not recall ever being touched in such a way. He wanted to hate it, but he did not.

"A few days," Kuai Liang proposed, voice a low, beseeching murmur. "Stay with me here, for just a few days. Let me show you what it could be like to share a life together. If you still wish to leave after that, I will respect your wishes. I will take you down the mountain myself."

An automatic denial sprung to his lips, but one look at Kuai Liang's eyes—pleading, soft, and filled with lonely, naked longing—killed the words before he could draw breath.

Hanzo looked away, to the strong, slightly cool and affectionate clasp of Kuai's hands around his. The weariness he always battled in his long journey, heart-sick from constant flight and avoidance, bloomed to an almost unbearable degree, threatened to swallow him completely.

"...A few days?" Hanzo eventually asked, voice unsure and wary.

Kuai Liang squeezed his hand and hope brightened his gaze.

"That is all I ask."

If Hanzo had not been wavering before, that expression would have unmade him; never, had he been beneath the force of such great, bare hope. To say anything else would be cruel.

"...Very well." He darted a quick look at Kuai Liang, glanced away immediately at the sight of his warm, wide smile. "Do not make me regret this," Hanzo warned.

Kuai Liang raised his arm, only smirked when Hanzo's eyes went wide, and placed a gentle, unbearably lingering kiss on the back of his fingers.

"I would not dream of it, Hanzo Hisashi."

[tawneybel]

2021 Movie Ranking

Note: Check out the 2020 Movie Ranking. This isn’t technically a top ten list, but I’m grouping the Fear Street Trilogy together. Again, it’s highly subjective. 

Candyman: The original was great and so was this! I like how it expanded on the Candyman curse’s lore and used shadow puppetry for flashbacks. A lot of people complain about localizations and, while I haven’t read “The Forbidden” (or any Book of Blood) yet, I think Americanizing the story was an okay choice. 

Fear Street: Part One - 1994: Smart slasher films with shoutouts to their predecessors? Skull Mask, Camp Nightwing Killer…. Eat your heart out, Dead by Daylight. Hopefully this gets more people into the book series. Maybe we’ll get prequels about the other killers. 

Fear Street: Part Three - 1666

Fear Street: Part Two - 1978

The Forever Purge: As I said before, the message behind these films is loud and clear. A good way to conclude a social commentary horror franchise. Fascism pulling an ouroboros.

The Suicide Squad: People may give me grief for this, but this series is way better than Justice League-centric stuff. The ragtag bunch of misfits thing is so fun when it’s (super)villains forced to work together. 

Luca: Finally, a mermaid movie for little boys. 

Raya and the Last Dragon: Are dragons an overused fantasy species? Perhaps, but there’s a reason for that. Before I saw Raya, I thought people were way too critical of Sisu’s design, calling it Elsa’s scalesona. Like Disney hasn’t reused/referenced old designs, jokingly or not. Not that their human(oid) designs are always unique... But Ghibli gets more leniency in that regard. (Haku’s a great dragon design, btw.) But I am disappointed Sisu’s siblings were basically copypasted. :/ My love of girly dragons dates back to either Barbie As Rapunzel or Dragon Tales. I have a Penelope toy laying around somewhere. Anyway, I’m glad Raya takes place in South Asia. Sorta. I liked the settings! 

Major Grom: The Plague Doctor 

Wish Dragon 

Space Jam: A New Legacy: I haven’t read/watched Ready Player One, but if it’s anything like this (or this) then I won’t be into it. But I think A New Legacy definitely suffered from trying to cram in as many Warner Bros. properties as possible, instead of making itself an otherwise memorable film. 

Zack Snyder’s Justice League: It has Amber Heard and Ezra Miller, so that’s two strikes against it. It wasn’t quite the CGI snoozefest Aquaman was, but I haven’t been keeping up with the DCEU so I can’t judge how much better it is than the other installments. Something tells me I’d enjoy the Schumacher cut of Batman Forever better. 

2020-1 Movies I Want to See 

Clifford the Big Red Dog

Dune

Encanto

Ghostbusters: Afterlife

Halloween Kills

House of Gucci

Malignant

Made in Abyss: Dawn of the Deep Soul

Paranormal Activity: Next of Kin

Resident Evil: Welcome to Raccoon City

Shadow in the Cloud

Snake Eyes

Spiral

Venom: There Will Be Carnage

Willy’s Wonderland

Wonder Woman: 1984

[pixelgrotto]

Saltmarsh stories

One more Dungeons & Dragons campaign comes to completion! For over a year and a half, I’ve been running Ghosts of Saltmarsh for my girlfriend and her best friend, and the pair of them finally finished last Saturday after 23 sessions and nearly 100 hours of playtime. We started playing in person December 2019 and had to move online in March due to COVID, and eventually my gf’s best friend moved out of town and then out of the country. But in spite of global transitions and pandemics, we still surmounted the odds and finished without missing a single month.

Since Ghosts of Saltmarsh was my gf’s introduction to D&D (minus a few games she played as a child), it took up quite a bit of space in my crusty Dungeon Master mental cave of planning. Luckily, I found it to be a very enjoyable campaign to run, mostly because as an anthology of classic adventures, it lacks the overly convoluted storyline that plagues a lot of other D&D fifth edition campaigns I’ve either played through or DMed, like Tomb of Annihilation, Out of the Abyss and Waterdeep: Dragon Heist. 

Ghosts of Saltmarsh contains eight adventures united by their seaside themes. Three of them are updated versions of the classic U1-U3 Saltmarsh modules, which were among the first British D&D products produced from 1981 to ‘83. These three tales revolve around the players befriending local villagers and helping a lizardfolk tribe fight off invading sauhaugin, and they’re good, mostly as an example of early D&D material that required players to treat so-called “monstrous races” with diplomacy rather than violence. The other adventures are from old issues of Dungeon magazine, and run the gamut from a decent lighthouse dungeon crawl (Isle of the Abbey, from Dungeon #34) to a nifty survival horror-style ship romp (Salvage Operation, from Dungeon #123). Additionally, Ghosts of Saltmarsh contains rules for ship battles, which are good enough considering that D&D isn’t a naval combat simulator, and the book also devotes its first chapter to describing a great new version of the town of Saltmarsh to serve as a central hub. 

I think Ghosts of Saltmarsh’s anthology format is my preferred style of D&D hardcover book at this point. Just give me a main town that I can detail and populate with my own NPCs, a bunch of adventures taking place around the vicinity that I can hack as necessary for my players, and I’m good. This format is also reflective of D&D’s early roots, where campaigns weren’t 250-page books with save-the-world plots, but short modules focused on building clout in a certain region and establishing a base. I think it’s also a very newbie-friendly format, since beginning players can really become invested in one central location and the people residing in it.

Since I was only running this game for two people, I had plenty of time to help the girls grow attached to Saltmarsh and its denizens. These consisted of several faces from my other games, including the very first D&D character I played as - a ranger who settled down in Saltmarsh as the head of the city guard and served as mentor for the next generation of adventurers. Other NPCs evolved depending on what I thought might make my gf and her friend laugh. For instance, Oceanus the sea elf, a Saltmarsh mascot since the '80s, started out as a surfer bro but eventually morphed into a douchebag/dingbat a la Schmidt from New Girl, which I started watching with my gf sometime over the course of 2020. And Captain Xendros, the tiefling owner of the local magic item store, was only supposed to be a minor shopkeeper until her sassy banter stole everyone’s heart, winning her a place as a major character by the end of the game.

I also gave the girls their very own house to decorate and return to in between missions, which was another fun ode to the older D&D roots that Ghosts of Saltmarsh embraces, but also a chance to insert Animal Crossing-style interior decoration into our campaign. My girlfriend clocked a staggering 300+ hours into Animal Crossing: New Horizons at the start of the pandemic, and seeing her and her friend derive great pleasure from using Roll20′s wonky drawing tools to sketch out every room of the house (and create a shrine in the bathroom with random bits of gold on the floor, no less) was stellar. 

Aside from a house, the gals also received two animal companions - a pseudodragon and a shadow mastiff. The pseudodragon appears as a familiar that can be found after Ghosts of Saltmarsh’s first adventure, The Sinister Secret of Saltmarsh, but the shadow mastiff was an inclusion of my own because my girlfriend really wanted a dog for the longest time, and I figured I would give her one in-game before we got one in real life. (Yup, we now have one in real life.) Generally, I’m a huge fan of injecting a little Pokémon into my games with animal buddies, but in this case the pets also served as valuable fighting companions that helped balance Ghosts of Saltmarsh’s combat encounters, which are meant for four people.

On the topic of inclusions, I stuck a bit closer to the content in Ghosts of Saltmarsh than I usually do when running a campaign based on an official D&D hardcover, probably because the book in question was just more usable this time around. The final split was maybe 60% book material and 40% my own stuff. The end of the campaign was nearly all me, since I couldn’t quite formulate a way to include the final two adventures in the book, Tammeraut's Fate and The Styes. So instead, I gutted them for concepts and created an overarching story that tied Saltmarsh’s threats to H.P. Lovecraft’s Esoteric Order of Dagon. There’s a ton of Lovecraft influence in The Styes, after all, and Dagon was included as a demon lord in third and fourth edition D&D, not to mention Pathfinder. I drew inspiration from all of those versions, along with the stats included in Sandy Peterson’s Cthulhu Mythos book for fifth edition. 

Ultimately, it all made for an entertaining story that scaled mightily. At level 2, Thea the tiefling rogue (played by my gf) and Zora the half-elf bard (played by her best friend) were utterly outclassed by smugglers in a haunted house and had to use a door as a shield to escape. At level 12, the pair defeated a demon lord and closed a portal to the Abyss. (To be fair, both accomplishments are pretty epic. The door escape was one of the most creative D&D moments I’ve ever seen, and we’re still talking about it today.)

While I wish we could’ve rolled physical dice together for a little longer, I’m glad Roll20 was available to keep our game going through a period of global strife. In the midst of it all, there was always D&D to fall back on. And hopefully, there will be more to come. I’ve got Candlekeep Mysteries on my shelf, another anthology of D&D short adventures...and it’s just waiting for me to formulate a plot to tie ‘em all together!