#i would kill for faren though

[asksprunkiestsimon]

[ They're like.. ominous goth fluttershy coded.. /pos /silly ]

" well thats great news ! " " because my house is crawling with them right now " " i guess i left a window open when i left "

[ He popped the end of his hoodie string into his mouth, chewing on it silently ] [ This'll do.. ] [ Faren you are such a king for not wanting to embarrass him ] [ The antennae flash a gentle green. Watching this stranger gradually loosen up more and more in front of him was strangely soothing to him. He smiled ]

" my gifts ? loved them " " they were awfully thoughtful of you, dude ! " " did you make this pot ? "

[Approximately 3:28 AM]

*Someone knocked on simons door.*

*It was Faren! They brought another bundle of flowers. This time, it was a bundle of pink, purple, and blue Hydrangeas.*

*Realizing how early into the morning it was, they decided that it was a perfect opportunity to gift Simon two gifts instead of just one! They hurriedly ran back to their home in who knows where and then just as quickly came back, a pastel yellow flowerpot with simple doodles of smiles and flowers painted one in light indigo.*

*Faren quickly scooped up some soil from the ground as they rushed back and placed in the pot. Once they reached Simons door again, they gently plced down the flowerpot, planted the flowers into the soil of the pot, and walked away.*

*In all honesty, Faren wanted to walk back and wait in front of his door, though knew that it would seem extremely awkward and shivered at the thought of getting a disgusted look from him if he knew Faren stalked him long enough to find his house.*

*And so, they walked through the dark, ignoring their urges to make a friend the normal way.*

[ Simon has become an uncharacteristically light sleeper as of late. When he can get himself down, even the slightest tap to the window would be enough to jolt him awake ] [ It was actually one of the first nights he has spent in his own room ever since.. well.. The Incident.. So he has been fighting for sleep for the past 4 hours now ]

[ So when he heard that door knock, you better believe he had dragged his fluffy ass out of bed to check who was there. Maybe even slightly apprehensive given how late it was.. ] [ The biggest yawn. JAW UNHINGE-worthy yawn. ]

" wuh .. "

[ Eyes were barely opening. He creaked one open to survey the environment in front of him and was rightfully confused when he didn't see.. anyone there ] [ Almost chalked it up to a prank. But that was before he looked down at the dirt in front of him ]

[ Oh.. ] [ He kneeled down to inspect the pot and the flowers, running his claw across the cute little details, fidgeting with the petals in his half-asleep stupor ] [ An ear flicks. He yawns again. Could this be another secret gift left by Vineria? But he thought they were cool now.. she didn't have to keep squirrelling away presents in front of his doorstep out of fear ] [ ..Unless ]

[ Then it's like he got bit on the ass. His eyes widen and he straightens up, suddenly hit with a wave of energy. He stuck his nose up in the air and began sniffing ] [ OH. This SO could be the anonymous gifter that he got a while ago! And by the sound of the knocking.. they couldn't have gone far either ] [ Simon easily picked up the scent of them, sprinting in a direction with worrying speed ]

[ Oh. Oh shit Faren. No way. The stalker becomes the stalkee. ] [ His paws beat at the wet dirt as his speed picks up, getting more and more enthusiastic as their scent grows heavier ] [ By now pattering of something in the woods would become harder and harder to ignore. And.. getting closer? ]

[ OH SHIT. OH FUCK HE FOUND YOU. RUN. RUN AWAY ] [ RUN AWAY. ] [ HE IS ABOUT TO SLAM RIGHT INTO THE BACK OF HER KNEES ]

@farendotcom

[kayla-kai]

As Below, So Above: 12. Faren

Though she usually considered herself a cautious person, Faren had a tendency to lose track of the world when she felt a break in her case. She could be single minded in that way, focused only on her task. In these moments she didn’t even notice how dull the paperwork was, if that’s what she needed to do to confirm her theory, then that’s what she needed to do. 

The other farm’s records were available but they required money. Faren’s budget was designed for this, so she barely blinked when they took her coins. Eyla-Ravi helped Faren to navigate through the archives and find what she needed, but she didn’t pay them much attention aside from that. She would share her theory when it was complete. 

Faren and her new assistant collected records of every single theft made on a farm or ranch in the last fifteen years. They collected the details of the thefts and the employee records for the relevant years. With some exceptions, each and every theft was centred around an oil producing crop. Coconut, peanut, palm, one farm had an entire beehive destroyed, and a ranch discovered a dissected pig that had been killed, and butchered for its fat, leaving the lean meat, the bones, and the skin, which was used for high class snack food.

In this state of inspiration, Faren had no idea how much time was passing as she and Eyla-Ravi organized the crimes by date and the employee lists by repeated names, like they had done before. No farm had thefts two years in a row, but there were occasionally multiple thefts in the same year, spread out by a couple months and spread out to a new company. Eyla-Ravi was the first to point out that soy was only produced by Mr. Mangira’s company, and it had never been stolen before. That was interesting, but not nearly as interesting to Faren as the way each thief was captured within a month or two of activity. They always got sloppy, and the farms always got their justice. “Recouped their losses,” as Eyla-Ravi put it. 

It wasn’t until the next day that they were able to sort through all the data. Faren only knew it was the next day when the Bell woke her up raucously. She didn’t remember falling asleep, but she picked her head up off the desk with a start, and peeled off a piece of paper that had gotten stuck to her cheek. Her assistant was curled up in the client’s chair, head resting on their knees, tucked close to their chest. It made them look even younger than they were. 

Faren continued to work at the cork board while letting Eyla-Ravi sleep. Tracing the employees who were working during each theft, trying to find connections. Some stayed at a given job for decades, others changed companies every few years, like a cycle. But one, only one, was there during each and every theft. Faren finally shook Eyla-Ravi awake, and silently pointed to the cork board. They blinked the sleep out of their eyes and stared at the strings for a minute. 

Voice hoarse, they finally said, “who’s Lan?”

Faren stomped through the company’s headquarters, making her way determinedly towards Mangira’s office. Behind her rushed a very anxious Eyla-Ravi, who was grabbing Faren’s shirt to stop her, or at least slow her down. By the time she had made it up to Mangira’s office, some of his men had beaten her to the door. 

“You need an appointment.” 

“Is that so? How does today at now sound?”

“You are not scheduled, I will have to ask you to leave.”

“Is that my investigator?” A muffled voice asked from inside the office. A second later Mangira poked his head out of the door. “I take it you have something to report?”

“Yes,” Faren said, but did not continue. She wanted a proper meeting. 

“Well then why doesn’t everyone come on in, then,” Mangira allowed her and Eyla-Ravi in, but also insisted on his men joining as well. He must have already been in the middle of a meeting, based on the man who scurried out of the room from the chair opposite the desk. 

Faren was the first to sit down, taking her place at the now emptied chair. She was too annoyed to feel vulnerable. No one else sat, even Mangira who just stood behind his desk.

“I take it this is good news?”

“Good is relative. I’m close in the case now, but I don’t think this is exactly good news.” 

“I have no interest in half-completed reports, only results. This meeting is unnecessary.”

“I’d say it is,” Faren glared. “I can’t do my job unless I have all the information. I need to be briefed in full.”

“I don’t recall leaving anything out, I simply asked to you catch a thief, which you have not yet done.” 

“This crime is connected to a series of other ones, a fact which I’m betting you already knew.” 

“Gambling is such a nasty habit.” 

“You hired the world’s best investigator because of a couple petty thefts? No, no way. I’m sure you were keeping things quiet to prevent your competition from getting involved, but you were fully aware of what the thief had planned for this harvest. For your soy crop.”

“I don’t seem to understand the problem here, I have hired you to do a job, and you have done it, at least halfway.”

“I lost two weeks because you failed to give me all the information the first time. I’m not looking for one criminal, I’m looking for two. The scapegoat and the mastermind. You withholding information almost risked me only finding the scapegoat. You could have lost the more dangerous thief.”

“And yet you seem to have figured that part out on your own. Now,” Mangira said, as he reached into his desk and retrieved a sheet of paper that he placed towards her. “Are there going to be any problems reaching your deadline?”

Faren looked down, to see a profile of her husband, his personal information, work, and of course his place of residence, which she had given them. She gritted her teeth at the silent threat. “No.” 

“When you find the mastermind, my secretary here will inform us, and we will deal with them accordingly.” Mangira looked pointedly at Eyla-Ravi. “Won’t you?” In response they nodded urgently a few times. “Well then. I hope next time we meet, it will be with the concluded report. Please send my previous appointment back in,” he asked his men.

Faren stood to leave, but hesitated in front of the office door. “How will you ‘deal’ with them? Take your revenge, or hire them against your competition?”

“Goodbye, Faren.” 

[dasozelotvonnebenan]

Alright, so thoughts about the assistant commanders (Names are Placeholders and stories are not final because it's hard to decide on a given story path when there are always so many good options):

Lord Fenquin, the Hero of Shaemoor is a close friend of Lord Faren and aids Logan Thackeray in fighting the white mantle that is infiltrating Krytan Politics. An excellent swordfighter and apt sneaky person. Joins the Order of Whispers. I'm not saying that he, Demmi and Lord Fared form an excellent team of superspies because they would be better without Faren. Unfortunately that guy just has the uncanny ability of showing up in places you didn't expect, which in this case means their missions. Fenquin isn't doing much fieldwork with the pact until Heart of Thorns where he accompanies Faren on his jungle adventures that ultimately lead to Dragon's Stand.

1325 Snaff-Price winner Posh. Their revolutionary interspatial translocator earned them the title of Snaff-Savant and the determination with which they beat up the inquest earned them Zojjas respect. Professor Gorr'a finding are deeply deeply worrying to them and they join up with the Durmand Priory at the first possibility. With the founding of the pact, Posh comfortably settles themselves as head of r&d. Briefly goes rogue during season 1 and helps scarlet create the steam creatures (because the infinity ball story is just too cool to not make an appearance here) but realises they are on the bad side when Scarlet starts obliterating Lions Arch. They have lost trust however and so they involuntarily avoid going down with the pact fleet in maguuma, instead moving in afterwards alongside the commander.

Yorg the Slayer of Issormir is a Norn rich in strength, size and hidden cunning. His renowned party trick of smashing rocks is more attributed to clever use of elemental magic than pure muscle. He is determined to fulfill the prophesy and destroy the dragons tooth, but does not shy away from asking for help in this endeavor. Thus he makes many allies amongst other races, like Jotun, Charr and Grawl. Ultimately none of them offered the power to achieve his goal (tho I would love to see the faces of everyone when he drove that charr tank into the great hall), but by that point he was so well known for beating up sons of svarnir that the vigil approached him and asked if he would like to work for them. He gladly accepted and would quickly turn his fame into rank. He was among the soldiers who retook claw island which is where he met Valoop for the first time. Pretty much plays second fiddle to the commander from there on.

Legionnaire Ruck Steelforge lost most of his warband fighting Barradin and, in true Iron Legion manner, rebuilds it through shooting ghosts with his newly developed ghostbore rifle. He works with the blood legion on developing artillery based on the design and later with the sentinels to adapt the cannons to work on branded. Though it proved impossible to convert the weapons from ghost to branded destroying their raw explosive power still proved to effectively annihilate groups of branded creatures. The Vigil, who had kept a close eye on Sentinel operations, were interested in getting these guns for their own dragon bashing business and offered Ruck and his warband to join them. Ruck accepted and would proceed to develop and operate artillery and defensive structures for the vigil and later the pact. He had a huge hand in the construction of Fort Trinity, worked with Posh on developing the Pact Megalasers and was the one who turned Zojjas plans for the MEGA-LIT cannon into a working weapon.

The Valiant Aluen born with the very vague wyld hunt of "uncovering hidden knowledge" which has her repeatedly run into the Knight of Embers, which seems to be drawn to the same things as her. When Malyck shows up both Aluen and the Knight of Embers recognize his importance. They discover his origins through the help of Amaranda the Lonesome. Aluen manages to kill the Knight before she can tell the other courtiers about the discovery, though only by donning Bercilak's green armor which is still tainted by nightmare which cuts her off from the dream and thus ends her wyld hunt. Left without a clear purpose she elects to stay with Trahearne and help him fullfil his wyld hunt.

[rumeysawrites]

Thank you @imsoveryveryconfusedatlife for the tag!

Here're the headcanons I got forsome of my characters in this generator.

Rosena can kill you in an instant, but won't.

For the early books, not really because she isn't really deadly (except being able to freeze people with her power), later on, probably.

Shan knocks people over by bugging them.

Not really, mostly. He'll try his best to not bother anyone. Despite this, his upbeat attitude can seem annoying, but not too much he'd knock them over.

If someone they knew commited a crime, Kent would cover for them.

Nope. He would encourage them to admit their guilt. He's the biggest law-follower among the Legendaries. If the serson in qiestion is someone he cares about, he will try to convince them to admitting. If not, he'll probably be the one turning them over.

Faren believes in ghosts and insists on trying to summon one at every sleepover.

I mean, spirits are a common knowledge among the people of Eight Alters. So she does believe in them. I'm not sure if she tries to summon them at sleepovers though. She'd probably be up for that and thinks it'd be fun.

Tom watched the Sonic movie.

100%. He had to watch the movie after Miracate told him for the hundredth time (and joking that he might as well be Tom from the movie in the future :D). He did have a good time with his friend group while watching though.

Miyuki believes in Santa.

Nope. She's the least unlikely person to believe in Santa.

Elvis has an incredible short-term memory, but an awful long term memory.

Quite the opposite. His long term memory is great, but he struggles with things requiring shorter term nemory like studying.

Marcelino got hit by a bus once.

Uh sure. I'm still figuring out his backstory anyways.

Nour does intricate and expensive cosplays.

She...doesn't do cosplays.

Mert hacks their stats in every video game they play.

Not really. He gets thrill out of competition and the challenge, even though he gets irritated when his luck goes to negatives.

If Frank was presented with an intergalactic portal, they'd enter it without question.

Of course. That's just another day of work for him.

Itzal stole a lollipop at the checkout when they were 5, and they still feel guilty about it.

He has more things to feel guilty about than just a lollipop. Trust me.

Chromos is the gay cousin.

Did Frank take control of the generator?😅 Honestly, I still don't know what Chromos' sexuality is going to be. But the stereotypical "gay cousin" attitude is kind of opposite of his personality.

Alondra wears Hello Kitty socks.

She probably used to. She loves cute things like that. But being both a hero and a music artist who performs, she tries to look more fashionable, and like the (young) adult she is.

Tarrence sings in the shower.

This is not a headcanon. This is 200% canon.

Tania is an olddst child.

No she's a middle child. Acts a bit like a younger sibling sometimes though.

Toby is not allowed to drink energy drinks.

Duh, he's an energetic 8 year old, so if course. But there's a funny reason why this is canon .

Shuang has an intense fear of spiders.

She's disgusted by them and can act a little panicky when she sees one, but I wouldn't say she has a fear of them. She might develop such a fear later on though.

Miracate was dropped out of a window as a child.

Sure. This won't make her backstory any more complicated. Besides, bith her and Mather were troublesome enough to walk on windowsills as kids as well. So that might explain it.

Mather's favorite subject in school was Math.

Nope! Not at all! Also, shout-out to the headcanon generator for making the third ever Math-er pun!

Faryal listens to 80s music.

I...don't think Faryal knows much about the music in our world. She might have heard songs during her Academy years, but then, would more likely be interested in listening to classical music, opera, or traditional music.

Acer has a pet lizard.

He would probably love the idea. But anyone else besides him and Faren might not. Just make sure that lizard isn't a wild dragon.

Eirlys screams like an anime girl.

Sirry what? I mean...she does take screaming breaks every now and then but not like that-

Stefinis was forced to eat cement as a child.

Quite the oppisite happened actually. Him (as a Merasian elf whose entire family disguising as humans), tried to eat plants & minerals edible to most folks in Meras, but not to humans, and his parents would have to constantly have to keep an eye on him to make sure he didn't eat something like cement or a crystal, in front of his friends.

Blyss sleeps in until noon.

Nope! The fire princess is an early bird who likes to get things done as soon as possible.

Jake watches My Little Pony.

Pretty sure his father got DVDs for the MLP movies, especially for Claire (Jake's younger sister). But Jake himself might join, claiming he's only there to make sure there's no harmful content in the movies.

Maerwynn is very good at using chopsticks.

Probably. She's a royal who'd be trained in all sorts of etiquette, including using utensils after all.

Arwyn chews their nails when nervous.

Not when nervous, but when stressed. Which is like half of all the time.

Aelwen can't handle criticism.

Probanly, if she cared enough about the criticizing person's opinioms at least. Fot 9 times out of 10, she doesn't care.

It would not take much for Vlad to turn evilm

Nope! He's been living with The Villains for over a hundred years, and still has kept a bigger good side to him than most others.

Vesta nearly drowned in a river as a child.

Probably...

Botolfe can't spell resturaunt.

Quite the opposite. He's probably one of the three people in his group who can actually spell with no oroblem.

Vanora is smart, but also very stupid.

Vanora would dusagree, but yes. This is accurate.

Of Ignacius likes someone, thy willl give them a pretty rock.

It's 100% true if those pretty rocks also hapoen to be dragon eggs..

Nihynia forgets to eat sometimes.

I mean, she's a goddess who doesn't need to eat. So I'm pretty sure she doesn't care about eating much. Naybe sometimes to enjoy the taste though.

Anyways! Here're the no pressure tags: @dearunreliablenarrator @heycerulean @writeblrfantasy @author-a-holmes @the-ellia-west @thecomfywriter @mudkissedgirl @yomikunp and an open tag!

Tag Game: Random Headcanon Generator

Thanks @tildeathiwillwrite for the tag here!

Tagging @xenon-writes-sometimes, @illarian-rambling, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @mudkissedgirl, @rumeysawrites,

@agirlandherquill, @clearcloudlesssky and an open tag!

—

Rules: use this headcanon generator to make headcanons for your OCs! Then talk about how accurate they are.

—

Odi reads AO3

Yes.

Dee is an oldest child

Unfortunately, that’s just incorrect. I don’t think they give oldest child energy either

Azzy makes your mom jokes

Certainly not in polite company. But at home, maybe, especially if she was drunk. It’s possible

Eika has been cancelled on twitter

And he wears that badge with fucking pride

Atalanta tells dad jokes.

Those are fighting words to Atalanta. I think the implication she would tell dad jokes would seriously damage her friendship with you.

Kika gets bullied on Roblox

Absolutely. Probably by his own brother too.

Mel would succumb to the fog

?? I think I’m missing a reference

Shethla knows the lyrics to every Britney Spears song by heart.

He’s absolutely the type to be blasting something in the car. Its a 50/50 between it being an absurd death metal indie no one has heard of or Britney Spears

—

Thanks again for the tag!

[the-cult-of-russo]

Push and Pull (Part 17)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OC

Warnings: cursing, angst

--------

Daphne walked down the street, soaking up the sun as she went. She left her hoodie at home for once, opting instead for high waisted skinny grey jeans with an off the shoulder tee and her usual boots. Her purple hair was once again thrown into a messy high ponytail, the fancy hair of the date from the night before now gone. She didn't have the time nor patience to make it look fancy. She’d tried to push most thoughts out of her mind about last night. She’d spent far too much time thinking about her little interactions with Matt and she didn't like it. Instead, she decided to stuff all of it in a box and bury it deep in the corners of her mind. 

She'd already been to see Brett that morning. She’d chewed his ear off for not telling her about Keiran waking up. He'd apologised and put all the blame on Matt. Matt had been truthful when he said it was his idea. He’d told Brett how they were all going out and Brett thought keeping it from her would be good for her. In his words, she didn't go out and have fun anymore. He’d reassured her though that even though the asshole was awake, he was still in no condition to leave the hospital. His jaw was wired shut too so he hadn't been able to tell them anything or answer questions. He'd refused to write anything down when they tried. It was one less worry. It meant the impending court case wouldn't be around the corner and she could live with that. But the nightmares had kicked back up and she knew they wouldn't fully go away until this was done and buried. The only temporary relief she found was the two times she slept with Matt. It itched the back of her brain, this innate need to go to him, to get her fix. But she refused to go crawling to him like that. If it happened then it happened. Spur of the moment like it had been the last times. Changing that would alter how things were with them and that just wouldn't work.

She wasn't planning on going to the firm. She didn't really want to see Matt and get whiplash from his moods. She never knew how to deal with him, he flipped on a dime. But Brett had asked her to go over with a case file since she was 'such good friends' with them. She obliged since it was on her way home. She'd be working on the case for Mrs Grimes today and seeing what leads she got. 

As she stepped into the building, she noticed it was devoid of clients today. Karen sat at the desk scribbling something in a pad and when she saw her, she stood up and hugged her.

"Hey!" She grinned. Daphne shot her a smile back with a nod. Now she was sober she wasn't as cheerful as the night before. But she really liked Karen. She'd woken to a text this morning from Karen saying she and Foggy had talked on the way home and they were now official. She was happy for them.

"Brett wanted me to play messenger," she snorted, handing her the case.

"Is that my new best friend?" She heard Foggy call from the side office. He appeared a moment later practically running to her as he hugged her. It was a huge bear hug and her feet stopped touching the ground for a moment. When he put her back down she noticed Matt standing in the doorway.

"I thought I was your best friend?" He huffed as he made his way to one of the many chairs in the room. He bumped into another no doubt for Karen's benefit of the blind man act. Foggy scoffed glancing over at him.

"Nah. I've been waiting this whole time to replace you. And now I found someone! She's basically you but she's actually cool," Foggy smirked. Daphne bit her lip to stifle a laugh as Matt looked offended.

"Okay guys, calm down. It's too early for me to be playing referee," Karen smiled fondly as she took her seat back behind her desk.

"What brings you here? Did you miss me or miss Matt?" Foggy grinned cheekily at her. She opened her mouth to swear at him before she remembered that she was supposed to have been on a date with Matt and Karen was right there. 

"I'm sure she missed me. Didn't you?" Matt smirked, sensing her irritation and discomfort. He held his hand out to her, sat there waiting for her. She pursed her lips, forcing a smile on her face as Karen looked at them with a grin. 

When she stood in front of him, she took his hand and he pulled her closer until she fell in his lap. She was sideways and had to hook an arm around his neck before she slipped right off. She had no idea what he was playing at going so hard with this. The plan was to make out like they decided dating wasn't working but he seemed to be enjoying annoying her. Maybe they were the same person. 

"I actually came by to bring you a case from Brett," she grouched when one of his arms snaked around her waist, the other hand resting lightly on her thigh. A quick glance to Foggy and she saw him beaming like his dreams were coming true. She wanted to hit him. This was all his fault. 

"A likely story," Matt smirked as he 'looked' at her. 

He was having too much fun messing with her. She needed to flip it back on him so she could leave. 

"You know what? I did miss you. Is that a crime, Mr Lawyer?" She asked sweetly, resting a hand on his chest as she nuzzled the side of his face. She heard him take a deep inhale, his arm tightening around her. 

"Just a misdemeanour, I can get you off easy for that," he whispered devilishly. It sent a tingle right down her spine and she mentally slapped herself out of it. Sensing eyes on her she looked over and saw both Karen and Foggy watching them with stupid smiles.

"What?" Daphne huffed, feeling her cheeks flame.

"You two are adorable. Team Maphne for life," Foggy laughed. Karen giggled covering her mouth a little. Oh how she wanted to say something. Send some sass his way. But she really did care about Foggy and doing that would only ruin his very new relationship.

"You two are the adorable ones. We need a ship name for them," she grinned, loving how they both got really shy when the tables were turned. She glanced at Matt and raised a brow. 

"How about… Koggy?" He asked with a laugh. She let out an elegant snort as Foggy made a noise of protest.

"Koggy?! What kind of name is that?" He asked indignantly.

"Because Maphne is any better?" She scoffed.

"Koggy is better than Faren," Karen giggled, looking at Foggy affectionately. 

"It's a great name!" Foggy grinned, changing his tune real quick.

"Wow, real smooth," Matt teased. The way she was sat he was right by her ear and she tried not to squirm as it tickled her.

"Alright, I gotta head out. Things to do, people to spy on and all that good stuff. Let me up," she demanded, smacking Matt's hand that was on her leg.

"Nah, I think you should stay," he smirked. She tugged the hair at the base of his neck and not lightly, making him hiss a little.

"Actually, before you go… there was something I wanted to talk to you about," Karen piped up hesitantly. All the eyes in the room seemed to turn to her.

"Alright, shoot," Daphne nodded. She guessed she'd be sat on Matt a little longer. She didn't necessarily mind it but it was causing that itch to jump his bones to get worse.

"So… obviously I work here and this is my real job. But I've been doing some stuff for the Bulletin. Investigative journalism and stuff. But I just wanted to know, since you're a PI and all… if maybe you'd teach me a few things?" She asked hopefully with a smile. 

Before she had a chance to answer, the boys piped up.

"Absolutely not," Matt said firmly at the same time as Foggy's mortified 'no'.

"What? Why?" Karen asked, frowning at them both. 

"Karen… what Daphne does is different. It's more dangerous and you shouldn't get involved," Matt stated seriously. Daphne noticed how his grip got tighter and she felt like she was in the middle of an argument that wasn't involving her against her will.

"You could get hurt," Foggy chimed in. 

"Come on! Not all her cases are that bad and besides, I'm already investigating stuff for the paper, so what does it matter?" Karen protested. Daphne tuned out the ensuing argument and felt herself getting annoyed. While she understood the boys wanted to protect Karen, they had no right telling her she couldn't do something. She was almost mildly offended that they acted like she was some bomb or something and she'd get Karen killed just by shadowing her a little. 

"I'll do it," Daphne said firmly. The argument seemed to stop completely and Karen beamed at her.

"Really?" She asked hopefully. She felt Matt go completely tense and she shoved his arms off her and stood up.

"I actually start a case today. It's not dangerous. The client wants to know if her husband's cheating, she wants proof in case he tries to divorce her and take everything. I'm just doing some recon today. Surveillance, maybe some hacking," she explained. Karen’s eyes seemed to light up when she mentioned hacking.

"Could you teach me that?" She whispered excitedly, like the others wouldn't hear.

"I can teach you some stuff. Nothing that will get you in too much trouble," she snorted. 

"Hang on a minute-" Foggy started, but Daphne whirled to face him with a face like thunder. It promptly shut him up.

"Karen, could I have a minute with these assholes?" She asked politely. Karen bit her lip to stop a smile as she nodded. 

"Yeah. I was thinking of going to the coffee shop down the street anyway since our machine crapped out,” she scurried out, no doubt knowing what Daphne was about to do. 

There was a tense pause in the room after Karen left and Matt was the first to break it.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" He bellowed, standing up and glaring her way.

"You shut up!" She yelled at him, pointing a finger in his direction. His mouth clamped shut not expecting her to be this mad. But then she turned to a frightened looking Foggy. 

"And you! You've been in a relationship with her for less than 24 hours and you're just bossing her around? What is with you two? You want her safe? That's great! But guess what? Investigating isn't all safe and not knowing what you're doing is the quickest way to get in deep shit! If I teach her some things, I can make sure she covers her tracks and she doesn't make any rookie mistakes. Or would you rather she fucked up because you two decided to be goddamn dictators?!" She fumed at them, glancing from one to another. Matt bit his lip, jaw ticking and he lowered his head. Foggy just heaved a sigh.

"You're right. I didn't think about it like that. I know she loves this whole Bulletin thing and she won't let it go. But like you said, if you teach her at least it'll be safer," Foggy relented apologetically.

"You've got to be kidding me," Matt scoffed as he walked over.

"What else do we do, man? At least this way she actually knows what she's doing. And it's a safe case, right?" Foggy asked as he glanced at her. She understood he was worried about Karen and it was sweet but he couldn't just control what she did or didn't do.

"It's safe. Just a typical affair case," she nodded reassuringly.

"Right, like Mr Lee's simple affair case?" Matt asked tensely. It felt like all the air got sucked out of the room and even Foggy frowned at him. 

"Foggy, why don't you catch up with Karen and make things right?" Her voice was tight and low and Foggy took the hint. He shot Matt a glare before he left. She turned to face Matt who was glaring in her direction, his mouth set in a grim line. 

"I always thought I was petty but you always seem to make me look like a Saint," she fumed. He lowered his head and sighed.

"Daphne-"

"Go fuck yourself. You want Karen to go out there investigating with no real tools or knowledge, then be my guest. But when she's been taken by the Chinese or dumped in a goddamn river by the Italians because she poked her nose where it shouldn't be and didn't know how to cover herself, don't come crying to me!" She growled as she stomped her way to the door.

"Don't walk away!" Matt called after her. His voice was a mixture of anger and desperation. She clenched her jaw as she turned to look at him.

"I shouldn't have said that. I know I'm an asshole. But I don't want Karen to get mixed up in this," he pleaded. 

"She's already mixed up in it, Matt. She was the moment Fisk went after her. I'm just looking out for a girl so she doesn't get herself in trouble. You can't just lock her in a cage," she muttered tensely. He seemed to actually take her words in as he deflated.

"You ever use Mr Lee or my attack against me again, you'll find yourself all over the papers as everyone reads who you really are," her threat was laced with venom and it hung in the air. Matt laughed mirthlessly, looking incredulously at her.

"Wow… is that how it is?" He muttered with a strained voice.

"Doesn't feel nice does it? When people hold things over your head like that? I put up with a lot of shit from you, and yeah sometimes I deserve it. But I won't put up with someone purposely hurting me, putting salt in my already raw wounds," she seethed. He looked taken aback for a moment before he looked upset, taking a step towards her. He opened his mouth to say something but she cut him off.

"We don't like each other yet for some reason I tell you things I don't even tell Foggy or Brett. I tell you about my nightmares, about my fears around the court case. I've shown you some of my most vulnerable parts of me and you spit in my face. I won't let you use it against me," she hissed. He'd really hit a nerve with his cruel words and she felt like the weight of the world was crushing down on her. For all of his assholery, she really didn't think he'd hurt her like that.

"I'm sorry," he lamented, taking off his glasses and looking her way imploringly. 

"Are you? Or are you just going to do it again and again?" She asked, defeated. He shook his head vigorously as he took another step her way.

"I fucked up, okay? I get… I get scared when I think about something happening to Foggy or Karen, and you just...  I felt backed into a corner and I lashed out at you. You didn't deserve it," he sounded genuinely sorry and she chewed the inside of her cheek. His moods were draining and she heaved a sigh. 

"Goodbye, Matt," she murmured before slipping out the door. 

Everytime she felt like they made progress in tolerating each other it felt like they took ten steps back. How could they go from playful teasing each other and pushing buttons to this? It had really cut her deep when he said those words. It cut her deeper than she felt comfortable with. Like she said, she'd told him things she hadn't told anyone else, opened up to him despite their weird relationship. And it felt like smack in the face that he'd say that to her. She needed space from him. It felt like she saw him all the damn time these days and it was starting to give her a migraine. She believed his apology. He sounded sincere and she could see it in his eyes. She believed that he just wanted his friends to be safe, especially since he knew all too well the horrors of Hell's Kitchen. But it didn't take back the hurt she felt in that moment. That he'd cut her so deeply for someone else even though she was only trying to help. 

She ended up at Fogwell's gym. The place was deserted, not a soul in sight as she walked in. She hadn't even meant to come here but her feet just carried her there. It felt weird being in here without Matt, but he was the last person she wanted to see. She didn't want to get too caught up with his bullshit. He'd said sorry and she wanted to forget it happened. Maybe avoid him for the rest of her life. 

She ended up taking her rage out on the boxing bag. She didn't think about her form or technique and she didn't have Matt there to lecture her about it. It was just pure pent up aggression and she needed it gone. She spent hours there until she was spent, her muscles crying out at her to stop. She was exhausted. Mentally and physically. Her life seemed to have gotten so much more complicated since she met the lawyers. 

The way home seemed to take forever with her aching body and it was only just turning evening. But she needed to start her work on the Grimes case, so she forced herself up the stairs in her apartment building. She was surprised to see Karen sitting outside her apartment on the floor waiting.

"Hey!" She grinned, standing up and brushing the dust off her pants. 

"Didn't think you'd show. Figured Matt would lock you up or something," she muttered tiredly. Karen gave her a concerned look.

"I spoke with him. Thank you… he really seemed to listen to what you said. It's nice to have someone on my side for once. He said he was sorry and he trusted you to keep me safe," she replied softly. 

Daphne just nodded, not wanting to hear about the vigilante at the time. Karen seemed to sense her mood.

"Uh… come in. I'll set up the laptop," she sighed, unlocking her door and letting both of them in. She led Karen to the sofa and she grabbed her laptop, the pair sitting together as she booted it up.

"So what are we doing?" Karen asked eagerly. 

"I want to get into his computer. I want to see his emails, including any secret accounts he has. I also wanna check his files. We're looking for anything about him cheating on his wife," she explained. She brought up her hacking software, fingers clicking on the keys as she got everything ready. 

She went through it carefully with Karen. Showing her how to use the password cracking software and remote access. Karen diligently took notes like an eager student, constantly asking good questions and Daphne was impressed. It took an hour since she was doing it slowly to really make sure Karen was following along and understood how to do it, but then they were finally into his computer. 

"First up, emails. You'd be surprised at how these CEO types just don't cover their tracks when it comes to their emails. I swear, they think they're untouchable," Daphne snorted. Karen shook her head with a grin as she leaned in next to her to view the screen. Daphne really thought she'd need to find a secret account or something to hit the goldmine. It wouldn't have been that hard to do and she fully anticipated it. But apparently it wasn't needed.

"Oh my god," Karen whispered, looking at one of the emails they'd found. They'd come across emails that referenced past rendezvous with his PA and some others at his work, but now they were staring at a picture of the dude balls deep in his PA in his office.

"Tell me about it," Daphne grimaced. She took a screenshot of it as she had with the other things she'd found, sending it straight to her wireless printer.

"Poor Mrs Grimes," Karen frowned, leaning back a little with a sigh as Daphne looked through more emails.

"I don't think she's too cut up about it. She was more concerned with him trying to take her money than him actually cheating," Daphne said with a shrug, trying to ease her mind a little.

"I really hope I never get that old and jaded with love," Karen scoffed.

"I'd say the same but I'm pretty sure I'm already there," she smirked, earning a bump to her arm from Karen with a chuckle. They spent some more times combing through the emails. There weren't any more pictures but emails from other women talking about meeting up or past meetups, some escort service receipts and some emails of him talking dirty. Mrs Grimes had been right about him and his PA and also in her assumption that there were more. He seemed to be fucking a few ladies at his company. 

"What do you think we should do next?" Daphne asked with a glance next to her. 

"Uh… his files, right?" Karen replied hesitantly. Daphne nodded, pleased with her answer. It wasn't like Karen hadn't ever snooped before but she was new to that part of things and she wanted to make sure if it ever came to it she'd go looking in the right places. 

Daphne was poking around in his files when she found a folder labelled 'honey'. It piqued her interest enough that she clicked on it.

"Holy shit,  jackpot," she breathed, sitting up a little better and squinting at the screen.

"This guy is just…" Karen muttered as she scrunched up her face. There were hundreds upon hundreds of pictures of him engaging in various sexual acts with plenty of women. He seemed to have a penchant for capturing his little escapades on film. Daphne plonked the laptop in Karen's lap for a second, jumping to her feet as she went over to her small desk in the corner of the room. She rummaged in the drawer before grabbing a new memory drive. Printing that amount of pictures would be time consuming and wasteful. She'd just give the drive to Mrs Grimes. 

When she sat back down, she grabbed the computer and pushed in the drive, dragging the folder onto it. A little bar popped up saying that it was copying them over. 

"This seemed easy," Karen stated. She sounded a little disappointed and Daphne snorted as she looked at her.

"I know. The rich normally leave clearer trails when it comes to this. Honestly though, the amount I'm getting for this case, I'm not gonna complain. I thought I'd have to do some surveillance at the least," she explained. It had been ridiculously easy but it was kind of nice to work a case that solved itself so simply and she hadn't even needed to leave her apartment. 

"I guess Foggy and Matt will be happy," Karen smirked ruefully. 

"I guess they will," she replied, unable to even try and keep the tense tone from her voice. Daphne set the laptop down on the coffee table while it transferred the files to the device. Karen took a deep inhale as she looked at her and Daphne just waited to her to press about the whole thing more. 

"We're friends, right?" Karen asked softly. That one caught her off guard and Daphne moved to sit sideways to face her and Karen mirrored her action.

"Yeah," she replied. She hadn't known the girl long but they got on really well and she enjoyed her company more than she thought she would. It was also fun that she loved to snoop as much as her. Karen pursed her lips thoughtfully, her fingers absently picking at her pants.

"You and Matt aren't okay, are you?" She asked, sounding guilty. Daphne felt a little bad that she thought it was her fault after the scene from earlier but maybe this was a good time to follow the original plan. To say they didn't work out so they could leave that behind. 

"No, we're not. But honestly… our thing has always been a little tense and complicated. I guess we just clash too much. It'd never work," she said honestly. The thing in her mind was them being friends or even people who could be around each other without wanting to scream. 

Karen looked genuinely forlorn at the news and Daphne looked away from her. She didn't think the whole white lie of the date would have been a big deal but now she was friends with the woman, she found herself feeling guilty about it. 

"Matt's been different since he met you. He talks about you a lot and seems distracted quite a bit. I know he can sometimes get… intense, but… whatever it is between you two, he seems to feel quite strongly about it," Karen murmured thoughtfully. Daphne couldn't help the scoff that left her lips as she shook her head. He did feel strongly about his very clear dislike and mistrust of her. 

"I'm serious! I'm just saying… maybe don't give up completely on him. He's been through so much and he always seems like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. I want him to be happy, he deserves it. And I think he'd be happy with you," Karen was so sincere and Daphne licked her lower lip as she glanced at the wall. She couldn't tell her the truth about it all so she couldn't understand just how wrong she had it. Then she'd know Foggy lied to her and know the truth about Matt. 

After her awkward silence, Karen shot her a sad smile.

"I'm sorry. I'm prying and I shouldn't," she frowned.

"No. It's fine. It's just… really fucking complicated. Sometimes I'm around him and I feel like I can just open up, you know? But then other times he's just… he's a complicated guy and half the time I don't know which version of him I'm getting. Honestly, it's draining," Daphne muttered with a sigh. Some vague truth that she could work around. Karen let out a small chuckle and nodded.

"He's definitely complicated. Sometimes it's like he purposely complicates things because he doesn't think he deserves to be happy. It's like he just subconsciously sabotages himself," she sighed. 

Daphne honestly agreed with her even though she knew it wasn't so much the case with his strained relationship with her. But she could see how much of a martyr Matt was and how he would deny anything that made him genuinely happy. Maybe that's why he always had such a stick up his ass. 

A little ding from her laptop finally eased them from the uncomfortable topic and Daphne ejected the memory drive, standing and getting the Grimes case file. She put in all the things they'd printed off and cellotaped the USB drive to the inside of it. She stuffed it into her backpack and decided she'd go see Mrs Grimes in the next few days with her findings and see if there was anything else she wanted her to do. She almost felt like she hadn't earned all the money and it made her feel weird. 

"You know, we could use someone like you at the Bulletin," Karen grinned playfully from the sofa. Daphne glanced back at her with a snort.

"Journalism isn't really my thing. But if you need help with finding something out I wouldn't mind helping you," she said softly. She didn't even like reading the papers if she was honest. Karen grinned with a nod in understanding.

"Can I ask you something? Off the record," Karen asked curiously. Daphne quirked a brow, turning around to lean against the desk and face her.

"Go for it," she shrugged.

"You work with Daredevil sometimes, right?" She asked tentatively. Daphne's eyes widened a little and she looked away. She had no idea how she'd know that. Only Brett and Foggy would know.

"The Chinese trafficking ring… I covered that story for the Bulletin. When I questioned detective Mahoney about it I knew he wasn't telling me the full truth. I pressed him a bit and he told me you and Daredevil were the ones who did it and the cops were just back up," she explained sheepishly. A scoff left Daphne's lips, she couldn't believe Brett would just go handing out her information like that.

"He only told me because I promised to keep it out of the story. It would put a huge target on you and I wouldn't do that. Plus, he knows how I feel about Daredevil," Karen murmured.

"How do you feel about Daredevil?" Daphne countered, glancing at her curiously. Karen smiled a little, tilting her head.

"He saved my life. And I think he does good for this city," she replied. Daphne nodded, chewing her lower lip at the uncomfortable line of conversation.

"He does," she agreed carefully. Karen was quiet for a moment, shifting in her seat like she wanted to say something. Daphne knew before she spoke what was coming next.

"Do you know who he is? Like really is, under the mask?" She asked tentatively. Daphne tried not to let her discomfort show. Lying to Karen was starting to really bother her and she understood now why Foggy hated doing it too. But she wouldn't tell her. It wasn't her place, her secret to tell. She just didn't know why Matt hadn't told her already. She was clearly a supporter of Daredevil and even though she would be upset with the lies, she'd get over it eventually. 

"No, I don't. Honestly, I think it would be more trouble than it's worth if I did," a lie wrapped in the truth. She knew how much trouble it was because she was living it. She wondered how different her life would currently be if she'd never found out. He was an asshole the first time they met when he donned the mask and suit, but that was because of her snooping in what he deemed to be his turf. But it really began once he knew that she’d figured out who he was. She wondered if he'd treat her any different if that had never happened. She understood how he lashed out at the beginning, it was understandable back then. This stranger, a PI no less, knew his biggest secret. One that could get him locked up or killed along with his friends. But she felt like they'd moved past that point. Proved she could be trusted with that. Yet it always seemed like it was in the back of his mind with how his moods switched on her. Like he'd be okay with her until he remembered she posed a threat in his mind and then he'd get defensive. 

"I guess I'm just curious really. I wonder who he is in the day. What does he do, what's he like," Karen snorted softly. 

"Probably an asshole, honestly," Daphne retorted absentmindedly. Karen giggled and shook her head, making her smile. 

"Probably," she agreed playfully. They thankfully moved on from that topic and just spoke about menial random things for a while. Karen picked her brain about some cases and asked her a lot of tips and tricks writing down all the answers. By the time it was time for Karen to leave, it was dark outside. Daphne had refused to let her leave unless she called a cab to take her home. She walked her downstairs and waited with her until the cab pulled up to reassure herself she was safe. It wasn't even just for Foggy and Matt's sake. She really did like her and she didn't want something bad to happen to her. She already had a spotty past with her involvement with Fisk and now she was poking around as a journalist. No matter what the guys said, Karen's job was actually more dangerous than hers in a lot of ways. Daphne did her thing behind the scenes, keeping herself a secret as much as she could. Karen was posting stories with her face and name attached to them. It was risky. 

Karen stopped before getting in the cab, muttering something to the driver before taking another step back towards her.

"I know you don't wanna talk about it and I promise this is the last thing, for now at least...but last night at the date, when we all hugged and said goodbye, I told Matt something. I didn't want you to hear it obviously. I really thought you two would work out. But now it's all gone to shit, I figured I'd tell you. Maybe it… helps somehow. Changes your mind or something," Karen murmured carefully. She looked almost hesitant and Daphne looked at her apprehensively. She wasn't sure where this was going but she remembered the whispered exchange the pair had and her curiosity about it. Now she was wondering if she even wanted to know at all. Taking her silence as acquiescence, Karen continued.

"I told him how much I really like you. That I thought you were a keeper. You want to know what he said?" She asked seriously. Daphne wasn't sure she did and didn't think it mattered since the double date had been a giant lie and scheme for her and Foggy to be together. He no doubt just lied. 

"He told me that he can't seem to keep hold of good things in his life. That people always leave. And I get it, I'm not blaming you for wanting to walk away if he's being an asshole. He's my friend and I care about him but so are you. But he thinks you're a good thing in his life and honestly… I think maybe he's lashing out because he thinks you'll leave him anyway. So he's getting to it first before you can hurt him," Karen said softly. 

Daphne wasn't sure what to make of that. She wanted to say it wasn't true but from what she knew of Matt, that kind of 'pushing people away before he got hurt himself' thing lined up with him. It was the same kind of thing she did. But at the same time she couldn't even fathom that Matt considered her to be a good thing in his life and she couldn't even tell Karen that without admitting she knew Daredevil's real identity. On how much he saw her as a threat to his life and friends. How he most likely only kept in touch with her so he could keep a watchful eye. 

"I'll keep that in mind," Daphne said with a weak smile. Karen seemed pleased enough and gave her arm a quick squeeze before she climbed into the cab. Daphne watched it drive away and rubbed her temples. She longed for her old simple life. When it was just her and her job. No stress or feelings involved, no drama. But there was still that part of her that knew she'd miss it now. Miss Foggy and his bright smiles and his stupid jokes. Miss talking to Karen and the girl talk. She'd even miss the playful version of Matt she'd met a few times even though it was rare. This was why she'd sheltered herself for so long. It was fucking exhausting.

When she got back inside of her apartment, she heaved a sigh as she made her way back to her couch and lay on her side. Awkward topics and avoiding lies aside, she liked Karen's company. Her and Foggy were easy to be around because she knew where she stood with them. They didn't go bipolar on her like Matt did and she didn't struggle to figure out what was going on in their head. They were easy to read. It didn't suck the life out of her being around them. But she also knew that she couldn't completely avoid Matt and also be friends with them. They were his friends first and he worked with them. And unfortunately for her, both Foggy and Karen seemed to think she and Matt should try with each other. They really didn't get it. Karen less so since she didn't know the full story. She tried not to dwell on Karen's parting words too much. She hated that she'd given her a logical explanation for Matt's mood swings. But at the same time it wasn't logical because she couldn't believe he actually cared about her in any way, not even as a friend. As much as Daphne didn't want to sleep, the impending nightmares making her head spin, she was absolutely drained and ended up slipping to sleep curled up on her sofa anyway. 

[lions-arch-chronicle]

Issue 12!

Image ID under Read More:

Title: Update on Orr recovery efforts and risen contianment

Story: The recovery efforts in Siren’s Landing and Orr at large have been progressing slowly but surely after the fall of the elder dragon Zhaitan. Reports that have come in from Botanist Nadir that the fauna growth on the island nation has been progressing in favorable ways slowly reclaiming the land from the risen rot that covers most of the island.“This place. My colleagues see it as barren and lifeless, a graveyard risen from the sea,” said Nadir. “I’ve begun to see it as new life and the promise of a better future, the light of dawn.”Reports from the resident Orrian ghosts say that the numbers of unchained risen have dropped at a consistent rate since the reclamation had begun.Rumors have spread about various organizations beginning to consider eventual rehabilitation of the nation or Orr but none with clear sources or plans to date. With safety precautions and assistance from their fellow Tyrians the reclamation team believe that they can continue toward a restored Orr.

Title: Interview with Boss Lady Courica cause she’s nice

Story: Kuritata: Hey hey hey Boss Lady

Courica: Yes?

Kuritata: Can skritt interview you for story this week?

Courica: Hmm, well I suppose so what is the angle of the story you want to write? Wait, why are you already writing? Are you already transcribing?

Kuritata: Yes yes wanted to show the people boss plant, so skritt is gonna write down everything!

Courica: And you’re writting down everything I’m saying as I say it?Kuritata: Yes!

Courica: That is quite the skill... Alright Kuritata, this will need to be edited for content alright? We probably should include the more interesting parts rather than just our daily conversations.

Kuritata: But how will reader people know all about you?

Courica: Well, most interviews include questions, ah, you didn’t have any questions prepared did you?

Kuritata: ...

Courica: I can see you writing out that ellipsis.

Kuritata: Boss Lady can’t see what skritt is writing if skritt runs away! 

Courica: Wait Kuritata! I thought you wanted to do an interview! Where are you  going?

Kuritata: To the printers gonna put this in paper just like this!

Courica: Wait! No you aren’t there’s not even an interview there! How on Tyria are you still transcribing this as you’re running?

Kuritata: Skritt is good at job!

Courica: Yes you are! And I’m so very proud of you but I’m begging you to come back here and let me edit this!

Editor’s Note: I was unable to edit this as Mr. Gnashblade was too entertained and requested it to be published as is as Dexsia had taken photos of this event transpiring.  

Title: Restraunt Recommendations:The Serrated Blade Tavern

Story: Today on the LAC’s adventures through notable places in Tyria we visited the Serrated Blade Tavern in the Black Citadel. Owned and operated by Barkeep Gallowknot the bar sees plenty of colorful visitors from within the Citadel. There are always wonderful conversations happening within the lively tavern that may potentially get you stabbed if you listen to the wrong conversation a little too obvious but the high-quality spicy moa wings and iron legion ale make that risk worth it. Would recommend just maybe not alone.

Title:  The Boasting Hall: In Defense of Snargle Goldclaw

Story: If you have ever met me in person, you probably know that my personal favorite color is a bright, clear blue. Wearing blue tells the people around you that you are honest, earnest, and intelligent, which describes me perfectly, though I would add several traits such as drop dead gorgeous and beloved by all. What you may not know is that I have a second favorite color, and that color is purple. It is a rich and lovely color, and there is nothing wrong with it. So when I hear the phrase “Purple Prose”, as I do so often in relation to my favorite author, Snargle Goldclaw, I do not immediately think it is a bad thing! Sure, too much of a good thing can kill you, but when has a book ever killed someone? (This is not a rhetorical question. If you know of tomes with murderous intent please contact me.) Snargle Goldclaw is a master of what he does. Even if incredible, imaginative, romantic adventures of love and loss are not to your taste, you have to admit Mr. Goldclaw is the absolute peak of his niche, and never afraid to try something unconventional! I mean, Destiny’s Pledge? Classic! Mist Connections? Heartbreaking! If you didn’t cry while reading it I don’t trust you! The Passion of Faren may have been unexpected, but at least he never repeats himself, which is more than can be said for many other romance authors today! In conclusion: Any of Mr. Goldclaws detractors are hereby invited to wail all they want, those of us with TASTE will continue to enjoy his fantastic novels.

Title: Do Verdant Weapons have emotions?

Story: I was spending a delightful weekend in the Grove with a friend of mine, when I decided to do some window shopping. Every place has slightly different ways to arm themselves, so even weapons you can’t wield yourself are worth a look! Not to mention they can truly pull an outfit together. So there I was, shopping around, when I spied someone selling Verdant weapons. Not really my color (I’m more of a winter than a spring), but I had always wanted to know something, so I asked the seller “How often do you need to water these?” He looked confused. “They’re weapons, you don’t water them.” “But they’re plants, surely they need something!” He shook his head. “Ma’am, the weapons will be perfectly fine if you don’t water them.” At this point he had another customer, so I let him be, but it still bothered me. Clearly these weapons are made of living matter, as I don’t know of any plant that stays bright green after it is long dead. But how is it sustained? For that matter, how is it made? Is it grown in a particular way? Molded by a smith? ...Or does it, too, spring from the Pale Tree fully formed? This is perhaps the darkest option. Is a verdant axe alive? Can it feel its body being swung through the air towards the enemy? Does it think? Can it feel hatred? If I was routinely lodged in the squishy body of a risen… Well, lets just say you should be PARTICULARLY nice to your verdant weapons. Just in case.

[pikapeppa]

FenHawke baby fluff: Memories At Sea

@lethendralis-paints requested some Fenris x Rynne Hawke spending time with their little man Faren, and how could I resist?? So for @dadrunkwriting Friday, here is a little Papa Fenris fluff! 

This takes place in my “Fenris the Inquisitor” AU, so this is post-Trespasser, after FenHawke have settled in a cabin on the Rivaini coast. And yes, Fenris has both his arms, for Reasons™. 

~2600 words. Read on AO3 here. 

***********************

Hawke smiled at Fenris. “Ready?” 

“I’m ready,” he said. The late afternoon sun was still high enough to be warm, but not so high as to be blinding. It was low tide, and the waves washing up along the white-sanded Rivaini shoreline were little more than gentle ebbs and flows. 

“All right,” Hawke said, and she smiled at six-month-old Faren. “Here we go!” she cooed. “Are you ready to feel the sea on your feetsies?” 

Faren blinked his big coppery eyes at her, and she chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She kneeled at the shoreline and settled Faren on her lap with his chubby little feet touching the sand. 

She leaned in close to Faren’s ear. “Here it comes,” she murmured. “The tide’s coming in… and… oop!” She gasped playfully as a gently breaking wave lapped at Faren’s feet.

Faren’s eyes went huge, and his feet jerked. Fenris chuckled and crouched down beside them. “Shocking at first, isn’t it?” he said to his son. “You wouldn’t expect it to be so cold, given the warmth of the day.”

“The water’s not cold!” Hawke protested. “It’s practically bathwater!”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Bathwater for whom? Fereldens? The Avvar, perhaps?”

She chuckled. “If Dorian was here, he’d say your Tevinter is showing. You hot-weather boys and your complaints.” She tickled Faren’s knee. “I hope you get my sturdy constitution, Faren. I don’t mind a little cold.”

“Says the woman who spent the entirety of our time in Emprise du Lion begging me to share my body heat,” Fenris said pointedly. 

“Oh, I wasn’t cold then,” she said. “I was just horny.”

Fenris scoffed and rubbed his mouth to hide his smile, then gave her a chiding look. “Can you refrain in front of the baby?” 

“No can do, sorry,” she said cheerfully. “Let him know how much his mum is gagging for his dad. Oh, here comes another wave! And… oop!” 

This time when the water touched Faren’s feet, he smiled and haphazardly waved one hand, and Fenris smiled at his raven-haired son. “It is better once you’ve had some time to get used to it,” he told Faren. “We will have you swimming in no time.”

Faren gave him a gummy smile. Another wave began crawling up the sand toward them, and this time when it touched Faren’s feet, he squealed happily and waved both his hands. 

Hawke laughed — that lovely sparkling laugh that never failed to lift and ease Fenris’s heart. “Such an adventurous little turnip!” she crooned. “I think we should get you standing up now. Yes, I do.” She lifted Faren onto his feet and supported him carefully beneath his armpits as he tottered, very slowly and clumsily, on the damp shoreline. 

Another wave began to climb up along the sand, and Faren bounced excitedly in Hawke’s hands as the wave approached. When the wave reached him, it washed up to his knees with a tiny splash, and Faren shrieked again.

Hawke and Fenris both laughed, and Fenris watched adoringly as Hawke chatted to Faren while supporting his chubby body. Faren was only six months old, so there was no chance that he would remember this particular moment — his first time ever touching the sea. But still, this would be the first of many such moments in the sea: the first of a string of peaceful and pleasant little moments with his parents holding his little hands and encouraging his curious nature. 

Over time, these moments would build on each other like layers of lacquer growing more lustrous and brilliant with time, until one day Faren would have a concrete memory in his mind of splashing in the sea and loving it, thanks to his mother’s tender hands and her bright and brilliant laugh. 

His memory of the sea will be so different than mine,��Fenris thought. After all, his first memory of the sea was during his time in Minrathous under Danarius’s control. 

He still remembered that first time following Danarius to the docks on one of the rare times that Danarius deigned to go somewhere so common. The Nocen Sea coastline was busy and noisy and grim, populated by magisters lording over their browbeaten slaves, and when Fenris had looked at the sea for the first time that he could remember, all he could see was a brownish-green fathomless depth that echoed the deadened emptiness in his heart. 

But the Nocen Sea was only the first coastline that Fenris had seen. Years later, after he’d arrived in Kirkwall and made Hawke’s acquaintance, he saw the sea for the first time again.

A few weeks after he began travelling around with Hawke and her friends, they’d taken a trip to the Wounded Coast, and Fenris still remembered taking in that stark landscape for the first time. The sky was a surreal haze of orange and pink that reflected off of the oddly still waters of the Waking Sea, and there were stony spires of rock jutting out of the water like enormous splintered rib cages piercing into the sky. 

“Well, it’s official,” he said. “I have travelled all the way from the northern coastline to the southern.”

“You know this isn’t the end of the continent, right?” Hawke said.

He gave her a chiding look. “I’m well aware, Hawke.”

“Good,” she said brightly. “For a second I thought you’d forgotten all about Ferelden.”

“I haven’t, no,” he said. “But I’ll become acquainted with one foreign land at a time.”

“Ooh, a one-country-at-a-time sort of fellow, are you?” She batted her eyelashes at him. “I like that in a man.”

On her other side, Varric scoffed. “I can’t decide whether you or the Rivaini is the worse flirt.”

“Hey, that’s unfair,” Hawke complained. “I’m at a disadvantage. Isabela’s got her gorgeous rack to do half her talking for her.”

Fenris studied her surreptitiously as she bantered with Varric. Her body might not be as lushly curved as Isabela’s, but Fenris still found himself eyeing her more often than he felt strictly comfortable about, considering that he and Hawke were still practically strangers. And considering that she was a mage. 

He forced his gaze back to the coastline instead. It was so calm here – so quiet. Aside from the giant spiders and bandits they’d encountered on their way here, of course. But compared to the noisy, busy, depressing docks of Minrathous, the stark and intimidating scenery of the Wounded Coast was more than welcome. 

“I wonder why it’s called the Wounded Coast?” Hawke mused. “Is this near the Injured Cliffs, maybe? Or the Limping Hills?” She smirked up at Fenris. “Maybe we’re off the coast of Massive Head Trauma Bay?”

Varric snorted, and Fenris frowned slightly. “If you don’t like it here, why did you lead us here?”

Her eyes widened. “What makes you think I don’t like it here?”

“Your unflattering remarks?” he said dryly.

She waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, I’m just being silly. I actually think it’s pretty here.”

“You do?” He was surprised. He’d been thinking the same thing, but he was surprised that he wasn’t the only one to appreciate the rather barren landscape.

“Of course!” she said. “It’s striking, isn’t it? I mean, it’s no Orlesian cultured garden, but it’s still pretty.” She pointed to the jutting peaks of stone. “Those spiky rock things are really… I mean, all right, they’re spiky. But I love the way the water’s carved patterns into the stone.”

Fenris eyed her in silence for a moment until she looked up at him. She blinked. “What?” 

“You’re quite the optimist, aren’t you?” he said.

She laughed. “You say that like an insult.”

“Not an insult,” he said. “An observation.”

“A critical observation?” she said with a mischievous smile. 

“I…” He frowned, then awkwardly rubbed his hair. “My apologies. I don’t mean it to be. It’s just…”I’ve never met anyone quite like you before, he thought. Her own circumstances of being in Kirkwall were far from rosy or ideal, but one would never know it from the way she joked and flirted.

He couldn’t say any of that, though. It felt far too personal considering he hardly knew her. 

She chuckled. “I’m just teasing you. Of course I’m an optimist.” She bowed dramatically to him. “Rynne Hawke, cavalier fool and optimist at your service.”

Varric tapped her arm. “Maybe we should go be cavalier and optimistic with the others. They’ve run off ahead.” 

“Yes yes, of course!” Hawke chirped. “We can’t let them kill every thug on the coast without us.” 

Varric smirked and walked away, and Hawke turned back to the view and scoffed. “Wounded Coast, they say? More like Picturesque Coast.” 

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t quite have the same ring to it.” 

“It doesn't, does it?” she said agreeably. “I’ll have Varric come up with a better name. Either way, it’s a pretty coastline.” She winked at him and wandered away. 

He pursed his lips. Trust Hawke to find the beauty in something wounded. 

He admired the peaks of stone rising from the water to reach toward the sky. Then he turned away from the view to follow Hawke’s carefree steps. 

“Fenris? Are you coming?” 

He blinked and looked up. Hawke was standing ankle-deep in the water with Faren in her arms.

He smiled and nodded, then stepped into the water to join her. Faren gurgled and reached for Fenris, and Hawke kissed his plump cheek before handing him over.

“You disappeared for a moment there,” she said to Fenris. “What were you thinking about?” 

“The sea,” he said. “What it’s like to see it for the first time.” He looked away at the horizon, stretching off into the distance as far as the eye could see. “Faren won’t remember what it’s like to set his eyes on the sea for the first time,” he said softly. “It’s… strange to think he won’t remember something so momentous.” He stroked his son’s back and thought of that moment again, of seeing the Waking Sea for the first time with Hawke by his side, and how her sunny spin had elevated that moment from something mundane to something special – something that stuck in his mind even to this day, fourteen years later when he and Hawke were taking their child into the sea for the first time. 

Hawke stroked his arm. “But it’s good though, right? Having him grow up somewhere with such a gorgeous view? He can wake up every day and voilà, there’s the beach just a few steps away!” She gestured grandly at the aquamarine expanse that swished and flowed around their calves. 

“Of course it’s good,” Fenris said. “I don’t mean to suggest otherwise. I’m simply�� awed by the contrast, I suppose.” He pressed his lips to Faren’s raven-haired head and inhaled his baby-sweet scent, then gazed at Hawke. “The only early life I can recall was written in pain and blood. I could remember clearly that I remembered nothing, and that blankness was…” He swallowed hard. “It became more painful than the marks, in time.” 

“I know,” she said softly. 

He smiled faintly at her, then gently patted Faren’s back. “His memories are an unwritten book. They will be seamless and whole. He won’t know why he loves the sea, but that love will be written there. A page of his story, tucked safely in his mind.” 

Hawke shifted closer to him and looped her arm around his waist. “Are you sure you don’t want to regain your memories?” she asked. “Cole could help. We could try and write him a letter. Do a little Avvar ritual to get his attention from the Fade.” Her tone was playful, but her smiling amber eyes were serious. 

“I do consider it sometimes, still,” Fenris admitted. Then he smiled at her. “But not today. This day is not about the past.” He bounced Faren gently in his arms. “This is a day for new memories, isn’t it, little man?”

Faren cooed and patted Fenris’s face, and Fenris chuckled. “All right. There is a wave approaching, so let’s see how you feel about this…” He crouched until the water was up to his waist.

The water was licking at Faren’s calves. Faren squealed and gripped Fenris’s ear, and Fenris smiled. “Brace yourself. Here it comes.”

The wave washed up to the middle of Faren’s back. Faren’s eyes grew impossibly wide, then his face started to scrunch. 

Fenris winced in anticipation of the impending wail. “Uh-oh.”

“No no!” Hawke said quickly. She knelt in the water and tickled Faren’s neck. “Don’t you cry! The sea is wonderful, look!” She watched another incoming wave with a huge smile, and when it washed over herself and Faren and Fenris, she gasped and clapped her hands. “Yay!” she cheered. “The sea is such fun, isn’t it, Daddy?”

“Yes, it is,” Fenris said with a smile. Faren was staring wide-eyed at Hawke, and his face was no longer squinched into an almost-wail. When the next wave came, the baby smiled.

“Yes, that’s it!” Hawke said brightly. “It’s fun, you see? Look!” She took a big breath and ducked her head beneath the water, then popped back up a second later. “Ta-dah!”

Faren squealed and waved his hands. Hawke played peek-a-boo with Faren a few more times, and it wasn’t long before Faren was laughing uproariously in that pure and uncontrolled sort of way that never failed to make his parents laugh as well. 

Hawke sighed happily and slicked her wet hair back from her face. “Ooh, come here, you little turnip.” She gently took Faren from Fenris’s arms, and he smiled helplessly as his wife and son laughed together. 

“He sounds just like you when he laughs,” Fenris said.

She grinned at him. “He does not!”

“He does,” Fenris said. “He sounds exactly like you.” 

She giggled, then tipped her chin up and batted her eyelashes. “Well, he looks just like you. The two most handsome boys I’ve ever seen.”

Fenris scoffed, then leaned in and kissed her smiling lips. A moment later, she pulled away and beamed at the baby. “How about we take another dip, hm? Yes, let’s do just that!” She waded a little further into the water, and Fenris watched them with a feeling of warmth and fullness in his chest. She was pointing to the waves and to the gulls floating lazily overhead, telling Faren how lovely and interesting everything was, and Fenris realized something sweet: as different as his and Faren’s early memories would be, there was one enormously important thing – one enormously important person – that would tie them both together.

It was Hawke. More than ten years ago, she’d spoken to Fenris of the beauty of the sea, and now she was pointing out the very same beauty to their son. 

He waded toward her and slid his arms around her waist from behind, and she smiled at him and continued speaking to Faren. “... and one day, when you have better control over your own arms and legs, Auntie Isabela will teach you to dive for treasure, and you can see all the fishes and corals and crabs that live under the water! Ooh, that will be so exciting.” 

Faren burbled and patted her chin, and she laughed — the same joyful burbling laugh that she’d passed on to their son. Fenris inhaled the salty sea air and held his family in his arms, and as the rolling waves tugged at his legs and washed soothingly around his waist, he cherished the making of this new memory in the sea. 

[heartslogos]

newfragile yellows [971]

Ellana somehow manages to get her make up done in a passable recreation of the tutorial Mahanon sent her. She even manages to get it done in time for the first guests to start arriving. At which point Mahanon comes into her room, gives her face and hair a once over, and then starts pulling clothes out of her closet.

“I’m surprised you made the effort on the hair,” he said as she attempted to get a particularly stubborn curl to stay out of her face.

“I felt sorry to leave it since I’d gone through the effort of having a face,” Ellana replied as he’d unceremoniously thrown clothes onto her bed. “I think I’m going to throw up. I haven’t felt this anxious since my second year of college when I doubled up on classes because I thought I could take it and then nearly had a mental break down.”

Mahanon stuck her into a pair of sensible slacks, a soft blouse, and reasonable one inch heels. He asked her to choose between pearl and diamond earrings and when Ellana’s mind went blank he switched to simple gold studs.

By the time Ellana is dressed half the guests are here and Solas comes to her room to bring her down. He gives her a quick once over and an approving nod.

“Remember,” he said as the three of them are walking towards the ballroom, “This isn’t a love match. You’re looking for the person you think you can become friends with. The particulars of what they bring to the family aren’t as important. They wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t anything to offer. All you have to do is find one that doesn’t make you feel overcome with a need for violence.”

“You should have been some kind of inspirational speaker, Solas,” Mahanon muttered before quickly grabbing Ellana’s arm. He turned her to face him. “Say the word. I have a bottle of hair dye up stairs and a bottle of bleach. Say the word, we can switch and I’ll have you in a car to the airport within minutes. No one would ever have to know.”

And then Ellana understood, then, why he had chosen that particular make up tutorial and those particular clothes. They looked closer to the same. If they switched hair colors and if Ellana stood up straighter and walked like she was armed, and if Mahanon softened his stance and expression and walked a little slower they could pass.

“If it comes to that,” Ellana replied slowly around the swelling feeling of love in her chest, “I’ll let you know.”

And then they were in the thick of it. Ellana wishes she were back to that moment with Mahanon right now. She wishes it was still the two of them in her room going back and forth as she got dressed.

Ellana vaguely remembers Carver and what must have been half of the entire Hawke family coming in like a loud, particularly vivacious, hurricane and dispersing immediately into the other guest to mingle.

She didn’t see Merrill though. Carver spotted her within seconds and went to give her a kiss. Ellana held onto his broad back and whispered into his ear, “If Merrill and I aren’t friends after this I’m going to kill you dead.”

As soon as Carver let her go Ellana was off to try and find some of her other suitors. Reluctantly, of course, with the attitude of someone who has to rip off several band aids over dubiously healed wounds at once.

Ellana finds Maxwell chattering to the dwarf she recognizes as Edric, as well as a woman she thinks might be an Amell.

Maxwell smiles at her and leans over to gently kiss her cheek. “You look extra pretty today. Edric, have you gotten a chance to speak with the lady of the hour? Edric, Ellana. Ellana, Edric. Ah, and this is Solona Amell. Unfortunately not in the running because of the hegemony, but I don’t think anyone’s arguing about that in particular right now. Shame. I haven’t had a good lecture about how I’m a complete disappointment for being a left leaning socialist for a while.”

Ellana shakes hands with Solona who smiles fondly at Max. “I mean. He’s right on both accounts. No offense, Lavellan. I’m sure if this thing was open to people who weren’t in possession of a penis, there would be plenty lining up. Just not me.”

“No offense taken. Maybe I should’ve tried to put in a bid for my own hand and see how far I got,” Ellana jokes before shaking hands with Edric. “Hello Edric. I don’t know if we’ve ever really talked. I think I’ve met your niece a few times, though. She’s lovely.”

“Thank you, and I suppose there’s going to be plenty of time for us to start talking now.” Edric smiles, though he looks a little green. And then he spots something behind Ellana’s shoulder and his, along with the other two’s, expressions darken briefly. Edric’s hand tightens its grip for a second before he quickly says, “Come find me after this, we should start talking right away.”

And then there’s a tap on her shoulder and Ellana is face to face with Aedan Cousland, looking like he just stepped off the cover of some yacht club magazine.

“May I have a word with you, Ellana?” Aedan asks, offering her his arm. Ellana can’t think of a reason to say no — at least, not one she can use without being offensive — and lightly takes his arm and gets whisked away back into the crowd. Ellana would envy the grace with which Aedan navigates the crowd in any other time.

Aedan leads her out the terrace and down towards the garden, away from everyone else. Ellana’s stomach churns, but a quick glance behind shows that both his and her guards are still following at a rather sedate pace, and her brother quickly appears on the terrace to watch over them.

Ellana carefully takes her arm back and Aedan doesn’t say anything. He looks around before turning to her and Ellana’s got to cut this off fast —

“Aedan — “

“Listen — “

They both blink at each other, startled and hesitant.

Ellana gestures at Aedan awkwardly. “Um. Guests go first, I suppose. Sorry, there isn’t exactly etiquette for how to talk to a possible fiancé, is there?”

Aedan’s immaculate eyebrows raise up. “Possible fiance? Hardly.”

Ellana doesn’t know what expressions lickers over her face in the moments before she gets her control back down but Aedan smiles. It’s a beautiful smile.

“Listen — Ellana? Can I call you Ellana? Ellana. I know it’s not going to be me. I think everyone here knows it isn’t going to be me. Honestly, I can’t even tell you why I’m here.”

“You — what?”

Aedan looks disappointed. “I mean. You weren’t actually going to consider me, were you? If you were then I’ve just gone and shot myself in the foot. But let’s be realistic. You? Me? Really?”

“Well. You’re right. I’m not going to pick you. But I really was going to give you a chance. I’m not — I mean. I’m trying to be fair, is what I’m saying.”

“How lovely for you.”

“Did you bring me out here to tell me — what? You know it isn’t you and you’re hoping I’m going to get you out of class early or something?”

“That would be nice, but no. I came out here to tell you that since everyone knows it isn’t me I was hoping you could tell me who it was.” Aedan’s eyes sparkle obnoxiously.

Ellana blinks, feeling incredibly slow. “You want…the goss.”

“Of course, now she gets it,” Aedan laughs. It’s an obnoxious laugh to match an obnoxious face. But Ellana — well. Ellana can’t say she hates it. It’s just very. Very. Very. Typical. But she feels overwhelming relief. Aedan, despite the fact that no one’s expecting it to be him including himself apparently, was one of her biggest worries.

“Well. I don’t have that many options. It’s Edric, Max — “

Aedan snorts. “It’s not going to be Maxwell. Please. You might as well marry your brother, there’s nothing he brings to the table.”

“I said I’m being fair about this.”

Aedan raises an eyebrow, offering his arm again and this time Ellana takes it with a little more willingness as they start to meander through the lantern lit trails.

“If you were being fair you’d actually be considering Hawke,” Aedan points out. Ellana wondered how much of Aedan’s personality is real and how much of it is a front. She thinks that, maybe, there’s a slight chance she would like to try being Aedan’s friend. Long distance friend. Pen pals, maybe, so she can have time to recover in between interactions. It remains to be seen. He’s a lot to handle at once. “No. We all know that the real choice is Edric or the Iron Bull.”

“I haven’t seen the latter yet. Is he here?”

“Oh, trust me, you’d know if you’ve seen him.” Aedan hums. “He must be fashionably late.”

“Have you ever met him?”

“I’ve seen him from a distance, heard about him, never had the pleasure of speaking to him.” Aedan seems to be flipping through a mental rolodex. “I think Natia’s met him. Natia Faren. I know she’s here, somewhere — she married one of the Faren’s main branch members about three years ago so you might not know her. I’ll introduce you the two of you. Now. Do tell. Thoughts on Edric?”

[anghraine]

pro patria, chapters 1-7

I don’t actually expect people to read this, but I want it over here for completeness’s sake, so—the Guild Wars 2 fic!

This one is ... different, apart from being for a canon that I think maybe three of my friends are interested in, because instead of writing a one-shot in my format of seven sections of seven sentences each, I've written an entire 70k+ fic that way. Each chapter is precisely 49 sentences long, which makes for a lot of very short chapters, so I'm bunching them up into groups of (of course!) seven.

It’s business as usual, however, in having copious footnotes (these ones assume everyone’s unfamiliar with the canon story).

title: pro patria (1-7/?) stuff that happens: a young Ascalonian woman grows from a sheltered aristocrat, to a hero rushing into danger to help a nearby village, to the investigator of a series of mysterious abductions and thefts tied to the Ministry itself.  verse: Ascalonian grudgefic characters/relationships: PC (mesmer / human / noble origin / missing sister [Ascalonian]), Lord Faren, Minister Ailoda, Deborah, Countess Anise, Logan Thackeray; PC & Ailoda, PC & Deborah, PC & Anise, PC & Faren

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ONE 1 I always thought of myself as Ascalonian first, and Krytan second. Both of my parents were Ascalonian��my mother came from a family of Rurikton refugees fallen on good times, my father from Ebonhawke, and I was born there, myself. Mother had resigned from the Ministry over some quarrel with Minister Caudecus, and hammered in her protest by uprooting the entire family for an extended holiday with my aunt Elwin in Ebonhawke. This was long before the Rurikton gate got fixed on Ebonhawke, so in the off phases, people generally took “going to visit family in Ebonhawke” as a euphemism for something. But Mother being Mother, she headed through Lion’s Arch to the Black Citadel of all places, carved her way through only the gods knew what to the gates of Ebonhawke, turned herself over to the Vanguard, and waited for Aunt Elwin to show up and get them released. She was seven months pregnant with me by the time she arrived, Father and five-year-old Deborah in tow. And two months later, she delivered me there, Father and Aunt Elwin at her side, and Charr siege engines in her ears. 2 Father always wanted to go back to Kryta, for Deborah’s sake and mine. And during the times that the Rurikton gate got switched to Ebonhawke, when our kin in Divinity’s Reach rushed supplies through, requests for Mother’s return to the Ministry came with them. She only said, “We need soldiers, not supplies—yes, I know centaurs are attacking them, but —” “We need to go home,” said Father. A Charr attack shook her resolve more than he did: one that briefly broke through the walls while Deborah was out walking with Aunt Elwin. But it was Aunt Elwin who convinced Mother that she could do more to help our people in the Ministry than as one more staff against the Charr legions. She accepted the latest offer from the Ministry, this time to serve as representative of the Salma District itself, and we headed—home, to a place I’d never seen. 3 My father was a Fairchild, a descendant—if collateral—of Duke Barradin himself, while my mother was only a Langmar, and a Langmar of mixed heritage, no less. But Langmar meant nearly as much as Fairchild in Rurikton, where the family had owned a mansion for generations. When we first arrived, I’d never seen anything like it, for Aunt Elwin’s house in struggling Ebonhawke couldn’t begin to compare to the splendid gardens and shining marble of a mansion in Divinity’s Reach. Even Deborah, her eleven-year-old dignity often stronger than any other feeling, couldn’t help staring around with wide eyes. Mother, meanwhile, gained a still greater mansion in the Salma District upon receiving her appointment as representative, but she wanted us safe from the politicking and corruption of the Ministry. Deborah and I grew up quietly in Langmar Manor, educated with other Ascalonian nobles by Ascalonian tutors, familiar with every corner of Rurikton and very little beyond it. Deborah chafed at the confinement, but I was a little girl, content enough to spend my days playing and studying with Yolanda, Corone, and Faren, new and lifelong friends. 4 Deborah joined the Seraph the day she turned twenty. “I don’t understand,” I said blankly. “We call ourselves Ascalonians,” she told me, “and that means more than tracing our family trees. You don’t remember Ebonhawke, but those are real Ascalonians, fighting for what they love��like our ancestors fought for what they loved—but we’re happy to boast of their names without doing anything. Captain Thackeray could just sit back and enjoy everything he gets for being Gwen Thackeray’s heir, but he isn’t, and I won’t either. Ascalon is lost, even if Rurikton and the Settlement and Ebonhawke will never admit it, but as long as Kryta stands, we have something to fight for.” Deborah as a Seraph, solving crimes, keeping order, and skirmishing with the occasional bandit raid, wasn’t half so chilling a prospect as Deborah fighting legions of Charr, so I didn’t say what I thought—as long as Ebonhawke stands, we have Ascalon to fight for. 5 Deborah’s departure left the whole family scattered: my mother in Salma, my father dead, my aunt and cousins in Ebonhawke, my sister stationed all the way down in Claypool, and some remote relations and me in Rurikton. Mother, still grieving Father and anxious over Debs, decided that at fifteen, I was old enough to come live with her in her Ministry mansion. I’d felt lonely and restless in Langmar Manor, but I still received the news with very little short of horror. “You’re going the next district over, not across the world,” said Yolanda. “I’ll take a house in Manor Hill too,” Faren said recklessly, “and we’ll have amazing parties.” Faren being Faren, he actually did, aided by his father’s relief at him showing interest in something beyond Rurikton high society—even if that thing was only Salma high society. My mother kissed me when we arrived, and with a smile, told Faren, “It’s a pleasure to know you’ll be keeping my girl company, and of course, just to see you—you’re looking so well!” He preened. 6 We spent those early weeks exploring Salma, curious and cheerful despite ourselves, suppressing giggles as we followed a dour guide about the district. “Orr was destroyed,” the guide was saying, “Ascalon was ravaged by the Foefire; only Kryta is left, and that by a narrow margin.” “Ascalon was ravaged by the Searing,” I said sharply, all laughter gone. Nobody would call Faren a great wit, but when it came to conversation and society, his instincts were impeccable. “You must have gotten the order confused, good sir—the Searing came first, the Foefire when everything was already wrecked—but a simple mistake, I’m sure—you were saying something about Kryta?” Biting back the first words that came to my lips, I forced myself to smile and say, “Sorry, we’re Ascalonian.” “I guessed,” said the guide. 7 I suppose I was a callow, coddled creature in those days, spoiled if not malicious—and though three years of even more luxury in Salma didn’t change that, a single letter did. To Minister Ailoda Langmar, I regret to inform you of the loss of Falcon Company in a centaur raid. Your daughter, Sergeant Deborah Fairchild, died honourably in battle. With my deepest condolences to you and your family, Captain J. Tervelan of the Seraph (Queensdale) As Mother staggered backwards, I caught her, and somehow afterwards, that was always the clearest memory: her weight in my arms, the letter falling out of her hand, fluttering downwards until it reached the floor, nothing visible but the seal of the Seraph. Until then, I’d been little more than an irritable butterfly, but with Mother shattered, I found myself willingly shouldering the work of mourning: the formal letters and heartbroken notes, the refusal of Deborah’s pension, the visits from friends and allies and enemies—I was warm and grateful to the Mashewes and Baroness Jasmina; coldly civil to that ass Zamon, whose commiseration fell little short of gloating; brave and dignified to Corone and his friend Edmonds; grieved but composed with Faren and Yolanda. Like a creature of a thousand faces, I sometimes thought in exhausted moments: not at all a proper Ascalonian hero, more Anise than Deborah—but it was the only way I knew to be strong.

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1) Ascalonian first: the PC from the first game was a resident of the human kingdom of Ascalon when the Charr, a species of giant cat people who lived in Ascalon a thousand years earlier, orchestrated a massive magical attack that killed thousands of Ascalonian civilians and devastated the landscape. Surviving Ascalonians were afterwards mostly killed or enslaved, except a few groups that escaped. The king then went mad and turned himself and the last survivors into vengeful ghosts.

2) and Krytan second: in GW1, the PC helps Prince Rurik of Ascalon lead a group of Ascalonian refugees into the neighbouring kingdom of Kryta. Some Ascalonians establish a settlement there while others live in the cities; generations later, this has resulted in a minority population of Krytan Ascalonians within broader Krytan culture, which the GW2 PC can belong to (though it has no impact on gameplay, which is what inspired the fic). In-game, Ascalonians are fiercely proud of their heritage.

3) Rurikton refugees: Rurikton, named after the Rurik in #2 (who was killed in the journey to Kryta), is the Ascalonian district of the Krytan capital, Divinity’s Reach.

4) Ebonhawke: a stronghold in the furthest reaches Ascalon built by elite Ascalonian soldiers and the civilians they fought to protect. It fell just outside of the king’s curse and has managed to survive the onslaughts of the Charr for 250 years.

5) I was born there [Ebonhawke]: there is no evidence for the PC being born outside Divinity's Reach, so this is probably one of the creakiest elements as far as canon goes. DR is canonically the PC’s home, and they strongly suggest they’ve never seen anything else. I made her very young when she arrived to finagle it, but it’s mostly there because I’m interested in the dynamic between Ebonhawke Ascalonians and Kryta Ascalonians, so I wanted to give her a foot in both worlds. 

6) Minister Caudecus: a deeply corrupt Krytan minister who shows up in various storylines.

7) my aunt Elwin: Elwin Fairchild is a noblewoman of Ebonhawke in the game, a proud Ascalonian ambivalent over Krytan involvement in Ebonhawke’s affairs.

8) Rurikton gate: Asura gates are magic/technological portals created by a species of small, floppy-eared, ethically questionable scientists and researchers. They have a gate in Rurikton that will instantly transport you to the one in Ebonhawke, but it seems that it’s only recently been permanently fixed on Ebonhawke.

9) Lion’s Arch: the former capital of Kryta; after a cataclysm caused by giant eldritch dragons, the original Lion’s Arch was sunk and the city rebuilt into an independent city-state, while Divinity’s Reach became the new capital.

10) The Black Citadel: the capital of Charr-controlled Ascalon, built on top of the former human capital (and human remains, according to one Charr).

11) turned herself over to the Vanguard: the Ebon Vanguard defends and seems to largely control Ebonhawke.

12) five-year-old Deborah: we don’t know the exact age gap between Deborah and the PC, but Deborah seems to be older. 

13) the Salma District: the PC will always live in Salma, regardless of origin, even though the city has sharp class and ethnic divisions and you can belong to one of the minority populations.

14) Duke Barradin himself: Duke Barradin was the heir to the previous royal family in GW1, but loyal to the elected king, Adelbern. His daughter was engaged to Adelbern’s son Rurik, but both were killed, so he has no direct descendants. However, the PC’s friend Faren is explicitly descended from royalty, the noble PC is implied to be so, and the Duke of Ebonhawke is descended from Ascalonian kings in particular, so it seems likely that their progenitor was some relation of Barradin’s.

15) only a Langmar: Captain Langmar led the elite Ascalonian soldiers that ultimately founded Ebonhawke, though she died in the process. There’s no sign that she had anything like an aristocratic background, but we’re told that class hierarchy in Rurikton is rooted in descent from Searing-era heroes, as Langmar was.

16) mixed heritage: GW2 Ascalonians, especially in Kryta, are a lot less homogeneous than in GW1. We see NPCs of all sorts of RL ethnicities identifying as Ascalonian or strongly implied to be Ascalonian. OTOH, Ebonhawke Ascalonians are implied to regard Krytan Ascalonians as "less" Ascalonian than they are, and there's a remark about Logan Thackeray’s beige heartthrob status being partly because he’s pure Ascalonian. The NPC I appropriated as their mother is a minister with default Krytan design, but who is talking with a Krytan who tells her to get over the Searing.

17) safe from the politicking and corruption of the Ministry: per #13, Salma is canonically the PC’s home and I’m stretching canon. The game is pretty emphatic that Ascalonians live in Rurikton or the Ascalon Settlement, and since there are nobles and mansions in Rurikton, it can’t even be a matter of “but the noble ones are up on Manor Hill.” The real explanation is that the choice of ethnicity is purely cosmetic and not considered any further, but that’s boring, and we’re never told that the PC has always lived in Salma.

18) Yolanda, Corone, and Faren: Faren is a shallow flibbertigibbet, but he seems to genuinely care for the PC; Yolanda and Corone are two of the friendliest guests at the party he throws for you.

19) the Seraph: the Seraph are a cross between soldiers and police in Kryta, principally involved in fighting off centaur and bandit attacks.

20) Captain Thackeray: Logan Thackeray, the Seraph commander of Divinity’s Reach and ultimate mentor/friend to the PC. He’s the descendant of Gwen Thackeray from GW1/GW: Eye of the North, who was the BEST CHARACTER IN GUILD WARS enslaved by the Charr as a child, but escaped to fight them for the rest of her life between succeeding Captain Langmar, finding love, and establishing Ebonhawke. She’s an iconic hero to Ascalonians.

21) Ascalon was ravaged by the Foefire: you don’t get a chance to correct the Salma Guide, but otherwise these are his exact words. The Foefire was the mad king Adelbern’s final curse that turned him and the last survivors into ghosts; the game tends to emphasize this rather than the Searing + brutal invasion that led to it. (It’s particularly glaring in this case, as you personally see Ascalon ravaged by the Searing in GW1 and spend a good deal of time fighting there, years before the Foefire.)

22) Minister Ailoda Langmar: the Krytan-Ascalonian minister I mentioned above is simply "Minister Ailoda," with no other name given. There's no sign of any connection to the PC, but eh, game mechanics.

23) the Mashewes...Jasmina...that ass Zamon...Corone and his friend Edmonds: Lady Mashewe is a pleasant acquaintance who says her mother prayed for the PC; Jasmina's a noblewoman avoiding Faren; Zamon and the PC insult each other; Edmonds talks to the PC with Corone.

24) Anise: Anise is the charming, enigmatic, and powerful mesmer leader of the queen’s personal guard, the Shining Blade.

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TWO

1 My sister’s gravestone read: Deborah Fairchild Daughter of Kryta and Ascalon Died serving her country with honour, faith, and courage. No body rested beneath the stone; neither the Seraph nor Mother’s Ministry guards ever managed to recover the missing corpses. I never saw a ghost, never heard the merest whisper of her spirit. The grave was the nearest approximation we had, but I often felt drawn to it, dry-eyed and somber. A day rarely passed when I spoke her name, and a day rarely passed when I did not think of her, memories jumbled up with horror at what that missing body must mean. When Debs joined the Seraph, she spoke of Logan Thackeray, of Ebonhawke, of the ancestral heroes whose names brought us respect and luxury—not of Mother, Aunt Elwin, certainly not me. Yet I could not help feeling that somehow, had I done something different, been someone different, she would never have left us. 2 For a year, I played my part in what increasingly seemed a theatre of grief: three months’ withdrawal into mourning, gradual emergence into a solemn, reserved public life over the next six months, and another quarter-year to return to my old habits of gaiety and grudges—yet little altered for me, at court or during my weekly vigils at the grave. Not, at least, until one of the latter was interrupted by a familiar voice, saying: “Indulgence doesn’t suit you, darling.” “Anise?” I exclaimed, too surprised for offence; Countess Anise was a longtime friend of our family—only the Six knew how long—but I rarely saw her away from court, much less in the guarded seclusion of the Langmar cemetery. “All those faces of yours,” said Anise, her drawl indistinguishable from every other time I’d heard her, “and you’re squandering them on self-pity and an empty coffin.” “She wanted to be a real Ascalonian,” I blurted out—I, who hadn’t confided in my mother or my aunt or my friends, and somehow I couldn’t help but babble on, “a hero fighting for her home and her cause, and now—now she’s just like them, a martyr and a defiled corpse somewhere—” “You’re getting hysterical,” Anise said, not unkindly, and added, “Is martyrdom what it means to be Ascalonian, now?” I’d always liked Anise, a clever lady mesmer like my namesake, but alive and undefeated; I respected her uncharted skills and enjoyed her inscrutable charm, but until that moment, I never realized: she was Ascalonian, too. 3 Teach me, I found myself begging Anise, though I myself didn’t quite know what I meant—maneuvering in the court, or chaos magic, or defending another person, or outwitting potential threats, or generating clones, or simply surviving in prosperity—perhaps I did not mean anything in particular. I couldn’t be Deborah, and in my heart I didn’t want to be Deborah, a soldier locked into hierarchies and orders and thrown into small doomed skirmishes. In any case, I hadn’t Deborah’s resilience, or Captain Thackeray’s unwavering loyalty, or his foremother Gwen’s relentless courage—but if I did not envision myself as equal to Anise, hers were footsteps I could see myself following, regardless of the particulars. Even as I pleaded with her, I expected little from a woman at once detached and preoccupied—and thought little of what had driven her to intercede in the first place. But Anise, taking the request on its face, smiled. “Chaos for a devotee of Kormir? Delightful—I’ll expect you at moonrise.” 4 My life reformed itself over that next year. Mother, relieved to see me interested in something of substance, readily relinquished me to Anise’s patronage; Anise herself proved an exacting but gracious mentor, dispensing advice, demands, criticism, and praise in equal measure; and my friends found me more and more myself. Small concerns crept back into my mind: the superiority of silk over velvet, Barradin wine over Eldvin ale, Gwen Thackeray over Queen Salma. Greater ones, of course, drew my attention as well: the downfall of the Meades, one of the oldest Ascalonian houses in Kryta, and consequent disappearance of our childhood friend Kasmeer Meade; the desperation of the war in my birthplace and heightened Krytan aid; the murder of an Ascalonian minister. I miss Debs every day, I wrote to my aunt, but I know I have to make something of my own life, in my own way. I’ve been thinking of returning to Ebonhawke to help, since Anise says I am ‘highly proficient’ as an aetherist. I haven’t left Divinity’s Reach in years, though, so before I try myself against the Charr, I’m planning on making my way around Queensdale—at least Shaemoor. 5 To the world, my story began the day I stepped through Dwayna’s Gate into Shaemoor. The world is wrong, of course; my life didn’t begin with centaurs clubbing a frightened man the instant that I set foot in Shaemoor, with stalls and cottages roaring into flame, with a boy as blond as Debs huddled in a corner, with the blood and brains and screams of that day. It didn’t begin with the barely-heard orders from Corporal Beirne—with the indistinct impulse that had me running forward rather than back, urging strangers towards the inn, catching the boy up in my arms, consoling a woman over the slaughter of her dog as I dragged her with my free hand—with the furious spells tumbling from my mouth, focused through the weak wooden sceptre in my hand. I was someone before I became the hero of Shaemoor. I was myself, with my own history, my own concerns, my own people … the man, that man slaughtered before my eyes, was Ascalonian, and the boy too. If they had not been, perhaps the instinct of the moment would not have flung me into the horror as if I’d been tempered by the Searing, instead of sheltered in Divinity’s Reach. Or perhaps it ran deeper than that, and I would have turned onto that path had the man been Zamon, or an Asura, or even a Charr—but still, it was the turn, not the beginning. 6 Something did begin at Shaemoor, however: my association with Logan Thackeray. I’d met him before, socially, but only just—and in perfect honesty, knew him more as the butt of Anise’s wit than anything else. But I respected him from what I’d heard of his service to Divinity’s Reach, and for his determination to follow his ancestress’s footsteps and not just her name. In the midst of all that panic and death, it seemed only natural to rush to his aid when I heard that he was being overwhelmed. I had no sword, like Logan, or Deborah; I struck from among magical decoys, twisting chaos about our enemies from each direction—but it was something, and an hour from leaving the city for the first time, I was at Logan’s side, blasting aether at a massive earth elemental and the many smaller ones. He didn’t know me from Kormir, or at least from Kasmeer, but I knew we were a Langmar and a Thackeray again, thrown into another desperate fight, and there were worse ways to die. But we didn’t die; we lived and we triumphed, and by the time that I awoke in the care of a priestess of Dwayna, every Seraph from Logan on down knew who I was. 7 All my life, I had been Minister Ailoda’s other girl or the lady Elwin’s niece or Sergeant Fairchild’s sister or a Langmar, you know, on the mother’s side—or, now and then, merely my lady. I rarely heard my own name outside my little circle of Ascalonian nobles. I also rarely heard it in the immediate wake of Shaemoor. But now I wasn’t a satellite about greater relations, extensions of my mother or aunt or sister or heroic ancestors. I was the hero, myself, even as I wandered about Shaemoor in a daze. I didn’t do much: fought off little wyrms and harpies, found missing herds, gathered apples. Yet there was no my lady there, much less So-and-so’s relation: only the hero of Shaemoor.

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1) clever lady mesmer like my namesake: the PC's name isn't explicitly stated in this section, but those familiar with the original Guild Wars: Prophecies can probably figure it out from this reference.

2) Chaos for a devotee of Kormir?: all human characters choose a patron god/goddess, and the choice of god and the choice of profession are completely independent. But Kormir, goddess of order and truth, is a rather odd choice for a chaos magic-using mesmer.

3) the murder of an Ascalonian minister: Minister Brios, the representative for the Ascalonian Settlement, is poisoned in Divinity's Reach before a meeting with Anise. There are very few Ascalonian ministers, so the murder of one of them seems likely to be particularly troubling to Ascalonians.

4) before I try myself against the Charr: you can get to Ebonhawke straight from the starting zone of Divinity’s Reach, but Ebonhawke is in a level 30+ zone. 

5) a boy as blond as Debs: Deborah will be blonde if you choose to be Ascalonian.

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THREE 1 These days, I knew better than to let myself get consumed by grief. Still, as I flung spells at spiders, giant worms, bandits, centaurs, anything, I couldn’t help but wish that Deborah could see me now. At the garrison, I snatched up a rusty sword and poured magic through it with every swing at a centaur; what would she think? Me, fighting with a sword? Maybe not the way she or the other Seraph did, but still! She wouldn’t believe it. She’d be proud, I thought—wouldn’t she? 2 I’d barely passed beyond Shaemoor when I heard from Faren: positively hasty, for him. His pet raven delivered a gushing note that, in the space of a few sentences, managed to tease me about my injuries, urge me to talk him up to my healer, and summon me to a party—at my own house. I could only laugh; ridiculous as he often was, I loved him dearly, and always had. Even as children, we’d been friends and companions, but after Kasmeer vanished and Deborah died, we found ourselves inseparable. We were among the last of that quiet, secure little Ascalonian world in which we’d grown up at Rurikton—certainly the closest. Deborah’s death had changed me, driven me beyond the walls of Rurikton and Manor Hill, beyond letters and parties and court gossip. But I remained Faren’s friend, as I would always be. 3 Many people, I think, assumed Faren and I were lovers; in fact, to our own bemusement, nothing could be further from the truth. When we were seventeen, he said, “I don’t understand it. You’re pretty—I’m gorgeous—but I really think I’d throw up.” I might have been offended had I not felt exactly the same. “Inbreeding, I expect,” I told him. Faren brightened. “Grandmama was a Fairchild.” 4 Faren waited ahead of the party—a sacrifice, in the world of Faren—to greet me with his most grandiose bow. “The hero of Shaemoor returns!” I shook my head, but I grinned despite myself. It turned out that my servants had gleefully conspired with him, and when I entered the courtyard, I found it full of strangers and friends alike, along with food, gossip, and a wizard. I’d enjoyed exploring Queensdale, pushing myself to further and further limits; it was good to know that I could enjoy simpler pleasures, too, although it didn’t extend to the dog fights and bear baiting that a cousin of Faren’s called for. “Not in my home,” I snapped, “and if you want to stay, don’t mention that again.” When I heard someone say my name, I seized the chance to turn away—only to find myself facing my mother’s most hated rival. 5 “Minister Zamon.” “You’ve done well for yourself,” Zamon said acidly. “All it takes for a noble to be a hero is a bit of swordplay, a few bottles of cheap brandy, and an inflated sense of self-importance.” He had said much the same of Deborah’s swift rise among the Seraph; she’d never responded, holding herself above partisan squabbles. “Then you’re almost a hero already, my lord,” I replied, smiling. “All you lack is the brandy and swordplay.” I was not Deborah. 6 Even my old friends seemed to see the hero of Shaemoor more than anything else. Corone, brought up with Faren and Kasmeer and me, and now a respected warrior, regarded me as if he’d never seen me before, and said he’d be honoured to fight beside me. Yolanda hailed me as a heroine—before chiding me for associating so much with Faren, “that rascal!” In his imagination, maybe. Fending off her interrogation about Logan Thackeray, I’d never been happier to see Faren bounce towards me. And the moment that I muttered something about being tired, he assured me that he was done with the party as well, and headed off to make our excuses to the servants. I was ignoring Yolanda’s meaningful stare when I heard him scream. 7 Corone got his wish sooner than either of us could have imagined. We easily trounced the bandits who swept into the party, but it didn’t matter: Faren was already gone. With Corone and Edmonds protecting the guests, I ran out of Manor Hill and into the district plaza, desperately trying to catch any sign of Faren, or even the bandits; they’d have to have some way to recognize each other, wouldn’t they? But there was nothing, just ordinary people carrying on with ordinary business, merchants calling out sales, the old tour guide talking to a woman with a red handkerchief about her neck … with that over her mouth, she’d look just like the bandits who had abducted Faren— “Madam?” said someone near us, and then “ma'am!” as I blasted the bandit with a bolt of aether. I fought at least half a dozen across the district, tracking them one by one to a house at the opposite end of Salma. At the sight of me, bandits poured out of the house, but I didn’t care: they’d learn what it meant to cross a daughter of Ascalon.

FOUR

1 After Shaemoor, the bandits were nothing. They kept jumping out of their safehouse one by one—idiocy—and flailed at my clones, even their supposed leader. “Soon, you’ll beg me for death!” he shouted. I laughed, and blew up the clones. He went down like a basket of eggs. But I never laughed for long. I’d yet to see Faren, and images of bandits beating him, tormenting him, cutting his throat, flickered before me, each as vivid as every spell I cast. 2 Inside the bandits’ safehouse, I raced upstairs, barely wasting attention on the few guards left inside. Fear and victory kept my blood rushing fast: I didn’t even think about Anise’s lessons, but my feet landed exactly as she’d taught me, my body slipped away from each attack, and every spell hit its mark. Beyond them, I could just see Faren. He seemed alive, thank the gods, but stretched out in magical chains that turned my anger and fear to raw fury. I fought through a haze of rage, but one that illuminated rather than blinded—everything seemed crisp and bright and clear, more than ever before. When the last of them collapsed, I scrambled the rest of the way up the stairs, and tried to clear my head. “Um,” said Faren, “a little help here?” 3 When I broke the chains, relief flooding through me, he gave a hoarse laugh. “Am I pleased to see you!” he exclaimed, then grinned and added, “though if you wanted me to leave the party, a simple ‘Begone, freeloader!’ would have sufficed.” Captivity or no, Faren clearly remained Faren. “I’ll make a note of that,” I said dryly, and asked after any information he might have picked up on what the devil was going on. But he knew only that they operated out of a house in Shaemoor, where they’d meant to lock him up, and that in recent months, they’d turned more brazen, bloodthirsty, and focused on rebellion against the crown. “I can't save you and leave the others to rot,” I decided, and managed to smile at him. “Bad form, you know.” 4 Faren, looking determined (for him), said, “Count me in—I may not be a centaur-killing berserker like you, but I can take care of myself.” I’d believe that when I saw it. On the way to the bandits' den, I said, “Glad to have you with me, but do me a favour? Stay close”—I poked him with my sceptre—“and that way, we can protect each other.” Faren shrugged that off, which didn’t comfort me, but he actually managed himself well enough; he didn’t even get blood on his clothes as we fought our way into the concealed and guarded caves, nor when we rescued all the prisoners caged inside, so it counted as a success as far as he was concerned. “If you know any fair maidens, be sure to tell them who rescued you,” he said, and added with a grin, “the dashing Lord Faren … and his friend!” 5 The mission did count as a success for me, too; one of the captives had filched papers about a plot in Divinity’s Reach. We escorted him and the others out, taking down the remaining bandits with impatience (me) and glee (Faren). “We showed them what Ascalonians are made of!” he said triumphantly, and I straightened right up. “That’s right.” When Logan Thackeray arrived to help, Faren swaggered up and said, “My friend and I defeated these delinquents with panache and aplomb; you're just in time to celebrate our victory.” “I’m … amazed,” said Captain Thackeray. I knew the feeling. 6 “Then again,” he said, favouring me with a respectful nod, “I should have known that the hero of Shaemoor wouldn’t let your kidnapping go unanswered.” I remembered Shaemoor, fighting alongside Captain Thackeray with my stick of a sceptre just like Gwen and Langmar once had, all those years ago, and tried not to think too much of it; we’d barely met, outside of a few social occasions he clearly didn’t remember. But I also thought of Faren struggling in his chains, and danger spreading to the home that was supposed to keep us safe, and that we were all Ascalonians together. “No one hurts my friends without answering to me,” I said firmly. I handed over the papers we’d acquired, but to my surprise, it was Faren(!) who proved most useful; he noticed the quality of the paper, and even knew of the papermaker I could track down to identify it. I promised, “I'll get the information you need, without anyone realizing the Seraph are aware of the traitor in the city.” “Be careful,” said Captain Thackeray. 7 Although he warned me, I didn’t realize so many skale existed in the world as I wiped out on that trip—luckily, I found a new sceptre on the way, so I managed to keep them at a distance, and my clothes remained as pristine as Faren’s. When I arrived, I found the paper maker he’d mentioned; Fursarai was a small, prissy man, an impression not helped by his quite beautiful waistcoat, but it didn’t stop him from shouting at a departing Norn about getting his supplies back to the city. “You there—you look like you can handle yourself in a fight!” he announced, gaze fixed on something in my direction; I glanced over my shoulder, but none of the Seraph seemed to be behind me, nor anyone else. He gabbled something about the garrison and cowardly guards at the empty air—unless—unless "you there" was supposed to mean me? What a boor: but unfortunately, a boor who could direct me to Faren’s attackers. Friendship had its sacrifices. I looked at my silk sleeves, and sighed. FIVE 1 “What do you cost?” Cin Fursarai demanded, and now I preferred to believe he wanted a replacement for that Norn. It was flattering, I suppose, that he looked at me—a young noblewoman in silk, wool, and fine leather, carrying only a sceptre and a small sword—and thought I looked like someone who could fight. “I’m not a mercenary,” I said, and added: “I'm here to ask for help identifying the craftsmanship of a piece of handmade paper.” Fursarai sniffed. “If you found quality paper in Divinity’s Reach, I can assure you, I made it.” By sheer force of will, I didn’t roll my eyes—I had a conspiracy to unearth, never mind how irritating this little prig was—and instead requested his help, only for him to sniff again and go on about how he had no loyalty to the crown, because he happened to live in Lion’s Arch. He had red hair and dressed in high Rurikton fashion; he had to be Ascalonian, descendant of refugees saved by Kryta’s rulers, yet—yet— 2 It didn’t matter. It didn’t, not right now—and anyway, our fashions had spread far and wide, Lion’s Arch had long ago drowned its history, and true Ascalonian identity meant more than ancestry, whatever they might say in Rurikton. Deborah had taught me that much; if he didn’t care about it, then I wouldn’t, either. Easier said than done, though. “I need this information as soon as possible,” I told him. “But why should I trust you?” he retorted. “Who are you, anyway?” 3 I lifted my chin, and for all I might tell myself, I felt as if the pride of generations clustered about me, even with my foremothers’ spirits hopefully at peace in the Hall of Echoes. I had not forgotten what I came from. All those Langmars, the children and children’s children of Gwen Thackeray’s great captain. The Krytans they’d married now and then, abandoning an easy heritage to transplant themselves into Rurikton, absorbed into Ascalonian life and identity. The Fairchilds in Ebonhawke, kin of the last kings, of the duke who still haunted Ascalon and his martyred daughter. They’d fought a long defeat, on and on, yet managed to keep a last corner of human Ascalon alive; my aunt still worked to keep Ebonhawke standing while this man sneered over paper. “I am Lady Althea Fairchild of Divinity’s Reach and Ebonhawke,” I said. 4 Fursarai eyed me suspiciously. “Well, which one?” Despite myself, my defiance flickered. I would always be Ascalonian above all else, yet I would always serve the queen, too, and set myself against the enemies of Kryta. I belonged to Ebonhawke, my father’s land, my birthplace and my pride; I belonged to Divinity’s Reach, the only home I knew, where my mother’s people had lived and fought for generations. Anise always called me a creature of two faces, and I supposed I was. “I don’t know,” I admitted. 5 He grunted. “Explains why you don’t stink like the rest, anyway.” “Thank you,” I replied dryly. After a minute of meditation (not helped by Fursarai’s string of complaints), we headed out. I was just about ready to kill him myself by the time we got to the Shaemoor garrison; he’d have easily died without me fighting skale and centaurs and one exceptionally large spider by sceptre and sword, but he made not the slightest attempt to defend himself, just cowering against his bull and yelping the entire way there. That was before I had to take down three centaur catapults and Lyssa knew how many centaurs, with maybe two Seraph backing me up. Naturally, his gratitude upon entering the garrison amounted to checking his supplies three times, turning to me, and pronouncing: “I feel like I was run over by a herd of marauding dolyaks!” 6 Irritation aside, he did supply the information I needed, admitting that he sold his paper to Minister Zamon. Zamon, the man who’d all but gloated at my mother when Deborah died, purely—I thought then—because of malice at the suffering of a rival. And then, not long ago: the man who’d sneered at my defense of Shaemoor. “He has excellent taste,” Fursarai said, his glance clearly implying that I didn’t. As if he’d know. I silently decided that I’d never buy anything from him, even if I had to go to Lion’s Arch myself to find another papermaker. I smiled and said, “Don’t leave Divinity’s Reach.” 7 I found Captain Thackeray in the Seraph Headquarters, deep in a discussion with Anise, of all people, but his head snapped up when he caught sight of me. “Do you have any news?” “Fursarai admitted he made the paper for Minister Zamon,” I said, suppressing any signs of satisfaction. Well, mostly; Anise cast an amused look in my direction. “Setting up citizens to be robbed and brutalized?” exclaimed Captain Thackeray. “That's out-and-out treason.” Why, so it was.

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1) The Fairchilds in Ebonhawke, kin of ... the duke who still haunted Ascalon and his martyred daughter: i.e., Duke Barradin, while his daughter, Lady Althea—this Althea’s namesake—was burned alive by the Charr.

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SIX 1 “But where are my manners?” said Captain Thackeray, whom I’d never seen with so much as a wrinkle in his surcoat or a hair out of place. “Allow me to introduce you to Countess Anise, Master Exemplar of the Shining Blade.” Bemused, I nodded at my mentor of years, while Anise bowed with a faint, ironic smile. Disregarding the matter of manners, she said smoothly, “Minister Wi’s hosting a party tonight; it’ll be a good opportunity to eavesdrop on ministers, their allies, and enemies.” Captain Thackeray couldn’t quite bring himself to disagree, but clearly wanted to; he proposed a (perfectly legal) raid on Zamon’s house instead, and worse still, left the choice to me, insisting that he couldn’t give me orders—even though he clearly had no idea who I was. In fact, I wasn’t even sure he’d realized I had a name. 2 Naturally, I consulted with Anise—Thackeray or no Thackeray, she was my guide and teacher. “Personally,” she said in her light voice, “I prefer convivial, face-to-face situations. Then again, cloak-and-dagger skulduggery is always fun.” I laughed. “The way you describe it, it all sounds so charming; I’ll have to think it over.” I didn’t, actually. Minister Wi lived in Rurikton, and Faren was my best friend; if I knew anything, it was Rurikton parties. 3 “Minister Wi’s party,” I announced. “I’ll see what I can learn.” “Are you sure?” said Captain Thackeray, though with a distinct note of resignation. “You can’t break into Zamon’s place if you attend Minister Wi’s party.” “I’m sure,” I told him. “Minister Wi’s party it is.” He sighed. 4 “Your fellow nobles seem to have a knack for making my life interesting,” Captain Thackeray told me, clearly putting the best face on it. “Let’s see if we can’t return the favour.” “We nobles, Captain Thackeray?” I said, amused; everyone knew about his relationship to Gwen—and his relationship to Queen Jennah, too. “A step down from royalty making your life interesting, I’m sure.” To my surprise, he flinched. Some lover’s spat, perhaps; I decided it was none of my business, and turned to Anise, who promised to meet me at the party—because it wouldn’t do to make us share the spotlight during our entrance. Of course. 5 I listened to a few complaints and registered some unsolved crimes after Anise left, then headed out. At least, I meant to, but on my way to the door out of Seraph Headquarters, I caught sight of an open book—a register. “That lists the names of all Seraph soldiers for the last two decades,” an officer told me proudly. I glanced over my shoulder, undoubtedly looking as suspect as a priest of Grenth on Wintersday, but nobody seemed to be paying attention; the officer had drifted over to settle a dispute over a farm, Captain Thackeray was talking to a lieutenant, and everybody else looked up to their ears in work. I opened the book, scolding myself for being foolish, giving into a pointless sentimentality that would achieve nothing, recover no corpse for a grave—but still, I turned the pages, searching for the name I would know. I felt like a spy, flipping through pages, for all that the registry was open to the public and I had every right to look—and then, there it was, near the head of its page. Sgt Deborah Fairchild; missing in action, assumed dead. 6 “Are you looking for someone?” said Captain Thackeray. I nearly jumped straight into the air; as it was, I flinched as violently as he had. “No, sir,” I said, and realized—Debs would have said no, sir in the exact same tone, would have stood in this very room as I did now, would know it all better than I did. What would she have thought, if she’d known that one day I would be investigating crimes for the Seraph, reporting to Captain Thackeray himself? She’d never pressed me to be anything I wasn’t, never seemed to love me less for being the thoughtless, frivolous creature I was then, but I couldn’t help but imagine she’d have been proud. Imagine how this whole thing might have gone if she’d been alive—maybe we’d be investigating Zamon together, or— “Good luck, Captain Thackeray,” I said, and walked out. 7 By happy coincidence, I already had an invitation, of sorts. My mother’s said Minister Ailoda Langmar and one other. “You want to go?” said Mother, looking startled. “I would have thought you’d be busy slaying monsters or saving people or whatever else you do these days.” I frowned, unsure how to take this; it might have been pride, if not for her studiously neutral tone—did she think all this unimportant, or regrettable, or beneath us? Or was it fear, with Deborah dead on Seraph business? For a wild moment, I longed to tell her, cling to her and admit that I was frightened and angry as well as resolved, to confide in someone who would always see Althea first and the hero of Shaemoor second. “I need to keep an eye on Faren,” I said.

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1) his relationship to Queen Jennah: Jennah is the Queen of Kryta, and a beautiful young woman; it’s widely rumoured that she and Logan are having an affair. The last time royalty made his life especially interesting was when he deserted his dragon-hunting guild, Destiny's Edge, out of love for Jennah. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------    SEVEN 1 I headed back to Rurikton for the party, though a good while before it was set to begin. I hadn’t been home for a while—months, though it felt like longer—and I wanted to get my bearings. I strolled past the familiar stone gryphons, a light calm settling over me. It deepened as I made my way down the streets, passing refugees and servants who gave slight bows: respectful, no more. Clusters of nobles nodded familiarly at me. I stopped by local traders, most of whom I knew by name. One bookseller had a pair of rare books on Ascalonian history, one of which I’d wanted for ages; I purchased them on the spot, and after these weeks of fighting and investigating and rescuing, it was a pleasure to let it all slide for a moment, and decide that today was already a success. 2 I personally carried my books to Langmar Manor, since I’d forgotten to bring any servants, and didn’t feel very much inclined to send for one now. Oddly enough, I had gotten used to managing on my own. The walk from the district square was a short and easy one in any case; I strolled down the streets, encountering nothing worse than a few seditious posters I tore down, and a man complaining about Captain Thackeray to an unsympathetic friend. “You know, just because your wife’s taken a shine to Logan Thackeray doesn’t make him a bad guy—he’s cursed.” At the first man’s scoff, the friend added, “Cursed with good looks and true Ascalonian blood! It’s not his fault that every woman fawns over him.” Not every woman, I thought. 3 The people of Rurikton had always mingled at the Maiden’s Whisper as well as Rurikton at large, so I attracted no particular curiosity when I strolled into the tavern. Several other lords and ladies stood near the entrance, smiling and lifting their glasses towards me as I passed, while everyone else simply continued their own conversations—despite the Norn inexplicably towering at the side of the room. “I like that Minister Caudecus,” one girl announced. “To Queen Jennah!” someone just out of sight said, echoed by a dozen toasts to the queen, Divinity’s Reach, Captain Thackeray, and assorted ministers. Across the hall, a man bellowed drunkenly, “Show me a woman who can wrestle a bear, and I’ll show you a keeper!” “If the Charr think they can come here,” said a woman, her voice clear and pleasant, “me and my meat cleaver will tell them otherwise.” I smiled; despite everything, it really was good to be home. 4 I spent the last few hours before the party skulking around Rurikton, but found nothing beyond a particularly incompetent group of adventurers and ordinary conversation on the street. Returning to the inn, I searched for a relatively secluded place, found it in a library, and closed my eyes, peering through those of a near-invisible clone as she drifted through Minister Wi’s manor. She wasn’t caught, but turned up nothing except preparations for the party. I was sure there had to be something we’d missed, but apparently not. Well, Zamon might be acting in secrecy. Might. I resigned myself to the inevitable: I would only discover what I needed to know at the party, and I would have no preparation beyond what I already knew. 5 When I arrived at the manor in person, the place was positively oozing Ministry guards, for no particular reason. Anise slanted them a glance that betrayed nothing, then eyed my finery with nearly smug approval. “This will be delightful,” she said, apparently no more inclined than usual to bother with such minutia as greetings and farewells. “Having the hero of Shaemoor on my arm will make tongues wag.” Even though it was just Anise, I flushed. So much for separate entrances—but it was like Anise to enjoy disrupting plans, even her own. “Thank you for letting me join you this evening, Countess,” I said, because it was like me, too. 6 “Mingle,” she said. “Speak to everyone—you never know who’ll say something they regret later.” It was an encouraging thought. “Second,” said Anise, “don’t limit your conversation to nobility; servants and guards see everything.” “Understood,” I replied, adding, “I suppose it goes without saying that I should be discreet?” “You catch on fast,” she told me, and touched her finger to the end of my nose, eliciting a startled laugh. “Go and charm the masses.” 7 “You know where to find me if you need me, pet,” Anise concluded, while I still tried to wrap my mind and dignity around the fact that she’d bopped my nose. But at the moment, I found her at my side, setting my hand on her arm and marching forward in her tall boots. She actually smiled when I matched my steps to hers, even if I could hardly match the total assurance of her stride and her drawl—but she smiled more at the sudden hush that fell over the grand room when we entered. “The Countess Anise,” the servant at the door announced, and after a suitably dramatic pause, continued, “and the hero of Shaemoor!” Virtually everyone in this room had known me from childhood, but they all bowed anyway, as if my mother herself stood in my place, rather than the other way around; she’d abruptly developed a cold when she heard Zamon would be there. Zamon himself was nowhere to be seen. Interesting.

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1) Cursed with good looks and true Ascalonian blood: this (and much of the dialogue here) is part of the ambient dialogue near the inn. 

[ren-val]

Paint me from the drabble prompts for whoever it fits best?

OK so, you have given me the chance to choose, and I want to give my dear noble Necromancer, Maesta Renata, the chance to shine. She is of orrian descent and this is a bit of the story of how she turned from sheltered lonely noble to adventurer thanks to her 5 silly friends who decided to be the Heroes of Shaemoor.

Those 5 boys are a mashup of characters @disaster-bi-canach and I took from another IP and OCs we developed from that. We decided to move them to GW2 and have fun. HERE is a pic of them all.

The night air was dense with smoke and unanswered questions. Most of the Seraph were quiet, focusing on their duty, and on the noble lady who had entered unanounced along with their Captain. They were observant enough to know that Logan Thackeray was more tense than usual, and that in spite of her gorgeous clothes, the lady had the sweet and metallic aroma of spilled blood all around her.

“A kidnapped noble and a bandit conspiracy in Salma’s district was not what I expected to come from your party, Lady Seserakh“ Logan stated, looking at his desk as if to distract himself of the matter at hand. “It was not my party, Captain”  emphazised Maesta, clearly annoyed at the mere idea “It was Lord Faren’s party, in honor of the heroes of Shaemoor“

Logan sighed deeply “So, a party when the guests of honor do not appear, and the host ends up in a bandit lair rescued by a necromancer. I must admit, it is way more interesting than the noble galas I am used to“ A small smile graced the lips of the noble, and she relaxed a bit, though her gaze didn’t lost its edge. The Captain finally took a file from his desk, and opened it so she could see it; on it were the documents of a dead Seraph called Mario Zeppeli, killed by the Risen years ago. “I assume you knew this man, and if not, I guess you know his eldest son. My men told me you were trying to court him months ag-“

“I was not!“ she exclaimed, the harsh tone of her voice contrasting to her exqusiite mannerisms “I-I mean… forgive me Captain. I… yes, Cesare. I used to be close to him. And as many nobles, I thought myself clever enough to make him settle down. I was foolish however, and I failed“

Her curt answer way too short to disallow suspiscion from the Captain. His eyes closed slightly, too tired for nimble wordplay, Logan decided to be blunt. “He was with me and other adventurers the day of the attack on Shaemoor, and now he is reported to be on Queensdale. But is was not alone: the intelligence you gathered says he and his relatives were the real targets of today’s attack. I need to know who they are, my Lady. I need to know if they are potential assets or potential traitors to Kryta“

Maesta glared at the Captain, but calmed down as soon as she felt the rustle of steel coming from the surrounding Seraph. She sighed deeply, and looked down, sadness making her limbs limp around her. “It is impossible, they can’t be traitors. If anything, they are some of the most noble men I have ever knew. Faren and I expected their return after their mother wrote them a letter, but it seemed they didn’t recieved it, or they just didn’t care…“

Logan felt the creeping sadness taking over her, little by little. The feeling of being forgotten was not something he knew well, but it was hard for him not to be kind, or at least trying. “That we cannot know yet, but there is something more important, my Lady: you said they were good men, but I saw two boys younger than any Seraph in the battle, and I want to know who they are“

He took his own chair and offered it to Maesta, kindly letting her sit and look over his desk. He also took some sheets of paper, along with pencils and a piece of charcoal. “As far as I know, most ladies of your upbringing know how to draw, am I right?“ Confused, Maesta nodded “Well, then I would like you to make a protrait of your friends, and tell me who they are, so I can track them down and ensure they come back home“

Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the melancholy that was shattering her heart, but Maesta accepted, and took the papel and the pencils, making five base models for portraits. While she was doing that, Logan took the liberty to ask for food and drink, and to assure that everything was in proper order around the headquarters.

When he looked back, he could see the portrait of two men on the paper: one was Cesare, the brave guardian that had fought by his side in Shaemoor, the other was a man with longer hair and a whimsical beard, his smile wide, even if his eyes did not reflect joy.

“You already know who Cesare is, the other is Julius. He is an engieneer, and its probably the leader among them all. He and the others are Cesare’s cousins, although they are all around the same age“ Lady Seserakh wrote their names besides their portraits, and added some shadows with charcoal “Julius wanted to be a Seraph once, but he did not enter, although he was in the Academy, and passed all his exams… he is too aware of his duties, and sometimes he can be bossy, but never tyrannical. He and his brothers have the weirdest laughs I have ever heard“ She stated, smiling softly one more time.

Silence engulfed them once more, and this time, Logan looked at Maesta working. A servant brought wine, bread and cheese, and he took the chance to drink and eat a bit before looking at two extremely dissimilar faces: the two boys he had seen fight. One was a lean lad, smaller than any of the other adventurers, his gaze cold as his gestures, strands of his hair falling across his forehead. The other was a larger lad, wide and strong, his long dark hair in a high ponytail. His features were round and soft, with thick lips and shining eyes that showed both serenity and a streak of melancholy.

“The twins. They are the younger of them all, if anything they must be fifteen by now“ She shook her head, stretching her fingers and looking up to the skylight above them “The little one is Alessandro, he is way too quiet and smart for his own good. Taking interest in all the secrets he can find; he loves to hear the stories of how my father and his espionage escapades. Even now, I am scared he is having some stupid ideas about being an information broker…“

The Captain frowned at that: although fifteen was way too young for anything, he remembered the traps well, along with the poisons that the scrawny kid had used against the centaurs. He sounded like a real handful, or a huge asset if he acted the right way.

But the voice of Maesta pulled him from his reveries, back into reality “The big boy is Salvatore. He is a real softie, somehow he adopted a Drake broodmother and befriended her. Ludmila lives in my house, a huge noble lady trapped in the body of a huge fire-spitting creature” The mental image elicited a soft laughter from her, but it died soon “He is too insecure to be out there killing centaurs and getting into trouble, if he is doing so it must be because of his siblings“

The murmur of pencils over paper suddenly filled the space between them; Logan had no idea why, but Maesta had started to draw with an extremely detailed pace. All protraits had a good amount of detail, but there was a depth of detail in the last one that almost shocked him. Long, silky strands of lighter hair, the steady gaze of someone whose thoughts were varied and deep, tight lips and the freckles of youth that somehow did not seem out of place on such a serious and somehow feminine face.

“The red haired mesmer…“ He whispered, marveled at the details of his face. “His name is Lorenzo“ the Lady said, not yet finished with her work “And yes, his hair is longer than any of them. He could be confused with a girl if it wasnt for his voice and the strak line of his jaw. Somehow I thought he was going to apply fro the Durmand Priory; he is very knowledgeable about magical theory… he wouldn’t be an adventure unless there was something new to know…“

A sudden dreamy look on her face appeared, lasting just a second before a nervous smile appeared “Alright, these are the men who fought by your side, Captain. I am sure you want these with the same amount of detail, so give me a moment and I will… you know…“ Her hands moved once more, drawing details that were not there before. Freckles and beauty marks, small wrinkles of laughter or frowns that were not there, details that only someone who loved those lads would be able to remember.

“How did you met them?“ He wondered aloud, noticing the change of guards and the bright moonlight in the center of the room. “We have lived in Salma for years; not only are we nieghbors, but their father is a doctor; he takes care of my father’s health as well as mine. His name is Gregorio, and he knew my dad when both were under service of the Sera-“

She stopped all of sudden, unable to look elsewhere but the paper. When she finally did, her gaze was full of anger, an accusation present in her deep frown. “Their father was a Seraph, he served in the Highlands along with Mario, and recieved and honorary discharge after his death. And I know that their mother had something to do with the Crown, Captain. There is no way you couldn’t know this” Her fists curled, but she did not reach out for her dagger. “You knew all of this, Captain. Am I right? Then why did you bring me here? Grenth’s breath I swear that if you don’t give me an answer I-“

“There is no need to get to angry, child“ A clear feminine voice broke the tension between them. A beautiful woman with exqusiite clothes had entered silently, and now walked to them. Her presence was powerful, even if she did not look as strong as any of the Seraph around her. “Logan knew the names and the faces of your friends, but there are many details that cannot be found in the files of a retired man. He needed information so he could decide if they are hero material, or just some silly boys playing adventurer“

An anwkward silence fell upon them, and it was the woman’s soft cough that made Logan break it. “Allow me to introduce Countess Anise, Master Exemplar of the Shining Blade, and personal counselor to Queen Jennah“ The womam gave a short bow, and Maesta stood up so she could return the gesture. She seemed confused, instead of angry, but her questions lingered in the night air.

“And may I know why someone of your rank is interested in this intel, my Lady?“ She asked with a hint of hesitance in her voice. “Because these lads of yours can be heroes for our Queendom. But to be honest, this is why our dear Logan is interested in them, as for me…“ she stated, looking at the portraits on the table “I am interested in arts. Especially the art of observation. I am marveled at your capacity for detail, Lady Seserakh, especially the depth of your knowledge about people. Also, the fact that you are one of the few non-sylvari Firstborn who has knows something about Orr doesn’t make me any less interested…“

Maesta blushed furiously, but her gestures didn’t betray her intentions. “I think you are talking to the wrong noble regarding social skills. Half of the court thinks I am cursed, and the other half can’t seem to forget that Grenth blessed me with something that terrifies them, and therefore ignores me as much as possible“

The dignity of her statements was broken by a chuckle of the Countess “I am aware of that, child. You are invisible and unwelcomed, far from intrigue, except for the times your dear friend Faren has been your gallant lad in distress. You are also a good book keeper, and your archive is impecable, as far as your dear father has told me. A silent shadow with amazing manners and a diplomatic streak…“ Anise breahted deeply, a proud and charming smile in her face “What I am implying here my dear, is that I am not just looking for intel on your dear friends… I am here to recruit you for the Shining Blade“

A moment passed. And the deep silence was not broken this time. Lady Seserakh lowered her gaze, deep in thought, she closed her eyes for a couple of seconds…

And then, she nodded.

[nocte-argentea]

Yo yo yo friendos I just wrote a small story about my characters Vesper and Altair escaping from some bandits you should read it

“So, Vess, how exactly are you gonna get us out of this mess?”

“What, have no faith in me? I'm working on a plan as we speak!”

“HEY! You two keep quiet! Unless yer finally ready to give us the info we're lookin' fer!”

Vesper turned her head to look towards bandit who'd spoken, who was guarding the room she and Altair were currently confined in. Gods, she wanted to punch him. Unfortunately, with her and her sylvari companion currently standing back to back with their hands tied to a wooden board above them, she couldn’t indulge in that fantasy. Not yet, anyway. She rolled her eyes, though, since the bandit didn’t even bother to look at them when he yelled to be quiet.

“Oh, I’m terribly, sorry, sir, we were just discussing what to tell you lot. Right, Altair?”

Doing her best to flash Altair a roguish grin, she went back to what she'd been doing with her hands. Damn ropes won’t get themselves off.

“Oh yes, absolutely, you are absolutely right!” Vesper breathed a small sigh of relief. Thank the Gods he got the message to placate the guard. He even made his voice sickly sweet to sway him. The guard, seemingly satisfied by those answers, went quiet. Altair, having learned that regular speaking voices were a no-go, started speaking in hushed whispers.

“Alright, how exactly are we getting out of here? I don't fancy being tortured until we admit that what the tabloids say about Lord Faren are true.”

Vesper forced herself to stifle the laughter that was about to erupt. Kormir knows that would only make things worse. She paused her movements for a quick moment, regarding him coolly.

“Do you truly not have faith in me, mate? You know I’ve gotten us out of stickier situations!”

“Most of the ones that you could be referring to didn’t have a time limit on them. We've got ten, maybe twenty minutes before they come back with torture devices. I’d really prefer not to be skewered today, Vesper.” Altair didn’t even want to imagine what they'd do to him. And by the tree, what would they do to Vesper? That thought alone was enough to nearly bring him to tears.

Not that he'd actually let the bandits see that they had him scared. Or let Vesper see how worried he was about her.

“Give me about fifteen seconds.”

“Fifteen seconds? Vesper, that’s not enough to do anything! What could you possibly-”

He blinked.

When did Vesper get in front of him? And how were her hands free?

“How in the hell-”

“Old trick that Tybalt taught me. First you-”

“Actually, never mind. Could you release me, please?”

“Oh, I’m not sure. I was planning on leaving you here since you didn’t trust me, but since you asked so nicely, I guess I’ll let you go.” Vesper was clearly enjoying herself now, smirking at him while reaching to undo his binds. Once he was free, the next dilemma became apparent.

“Now that that's out of the way, what’s the plan for getting out of here? We need our weapons, and we can’t just walk out through the door without causing a ruckus.” Altair was astounded that the guard hadn’t noticed them yet. Actually, now that he really listened, he swore he heard snoring coming from the direction of the tunnel.

“Well, we can either kill every bandit in this hideout, make a run for it, or disguise ourselves and just walk out. I’m leaning towards the last one, personally.” It was probably their best bet, as well. They were ridiculously outnumbered, and Vesper was certain they'd call in reinforcements if they raised a fuss. Not only that, but from what she'd seen, there’s too many to simply sneak their way out. Espionage is the safest way to go, now.

“So then, we need to look like bandits. I’m assuming we can…relieve the guard of his garments, but that'd only fit me. What about you? And what about when he wakes up?”

Vesper began to respond, but something caught he attention. Footsteps were coming down the hall.

Altair noticed the sounds at this point. Thinking quickly, both of them darted to either side of the door, waiting for their chance.

“Yew idjit, fallin' asleep on guard duty!” a female voice chastised the guard. “What if th' prisoners had-” the new bandit stopped, looking at where their prized captives used to be tied up.

“…escaped?”

Before either of them could raise the alarm, they were swiftly knocked cold by the commander and her lieutenant.

“I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting that. Lets relieve these two of their garb and tie ‘em up like we were.”

One they’d changed clothes and trussed up the bandits, they put out the one torch that was present in the room. It’d be a lot more difficult to tell it wasn’t them if the room was dark.

“Should we put more clothes on them? This feels...odd.” Currently, the former prisoners’ clothing was folded up, hidden within their disguises. It wasn’t noticeable, thankfully, but Vesper felt odd leaving the bandits in just their undergarments.

“Vess, they were going to torture us or possibly kill us. Let them be humiliated.” Altair adjusted his hat and mask, to facilitate speaking. “Now, then let’s get out of here. First stop: the armory.”

The disguises worked like a charm. None of the bandits even spared them a second glance. Thankfully, the armory was easy to find, and soon enough Altair had his greatsword, and Vesper had her rapier and dagger. The only scare they even had while working their way out of the hideout was when someone mentioned ‘the wealth of information the commander must have’ in passing. 

When they could finally see the entrance to the cave, Altair could hear an uproar beginning in the deeper parts of the cave, meaning they’d been discovered.

“Alright, Vessie, any ideas now?”

“Stay calm, act natural. When we get out of the cave, run.”

“Just run?”

“Aye, mate, just run. Once we’re on open space or forest, we’re golden.”

They bypassed the cave guards without any issue, and once they were out of sight, they ran straight to the nearest forest, hoping to lose their pursuers in the dense woods. Finally, the sound of angry bandits faded, and the two wayward adventurers got a moment to rest. As they began to change back into their original clothing, with Vesper on one side of a tree and Altair on the other, the thief had a thought.

“Hey, Altair?”

“Yeah, Vess? What’s on your mind? Got a victory speech to share?” Altair said jokingly, feeling much better after getting out of that mess, and much less skewered to boot.

“Maybe later. First, I need to apologize.” That caught Altair off guard.

“It was my fault we got caught. If I hadn’t insisted on looking for treasure near the moa farm, we wouldn’t have gotten in that mess.” It was a false lead that led them there, to boot. She’d led Altair, on a rumor, to search for a treasure that didn’t even exist, and gotten ambushed by bandits in the process. 

Altair didn’t know how to respond to this. In all honesty, he’d come to expect danger when treasure hunting with Vess. His mind flashed to a month ago, when the two of them, plus Nocte and Luna, had ended up being chased by a few fire hydras in the Crystal Desert when on a treasure hunt. Technically speaking, that was much more dangerous. So why was she apologizing now?

“It’s water under the bridge, but if you don’t mind my asking, why apologize? I know the risks when coming treasure hunting with you. Also, may I walk around now? Are you decent?”

“Aye, you may. And it’s because I asked you to accompany me here on a false lead that ended up getting us caught.” She waited for Altair to walk around the tree to continue. “See, I wanted you, specifically, to join me…” she paused, leaning her head back against the tree, “because my contact said something about a Dawn being hidden in this cache.”

Oh. The precursor to the legendary greatsword he’d been working on. That explains a lot.

“Vesper, you wanted to help me?” “Of course, you’ve been helping me with my crafts, I wanted to give you a helping hand too!”

Altair, thoroughly flustered at this point, looked away and ran a hand through his hair. “Vesper, you help me and everyone else so much already, you don’t have to do anything else. And I need to apologize, too.”

“Wait, what? You’ve not done anything wrong though!”

“Except that I let my nerves and fear get the best of me and forgot to trust you in the bandit hideout. I should know by now that you’ll do your best do get us out of any sticky situation.”

Vesper went silent at that. She’d not cared about his fear, it was totally natural. She sighed and looked at Altair with her trademark roguish grin. “Wanna say we’re both dumbasses then and move on, mate?”

The sylvari let out a hearty chuckle, before bowing to her. “I’ll accept that for now, but let’s be frank: I have the most common sense out of all of Dragons’ Watch.” He offered his arm, and Vesper hooked her own arm within it.

“Aye, that you do.” The two began the trek towards Divinity’s Reach with a spring in their step and in much higher spirits.

“Oh, by the way, I’m telling the rest of the guild about this misadventure.”

And like that, Vesper’s spirit was shattered.

“WHAT!?”

“Oh, of course! I’m sure that Nocte and Luna would love to hear about how you got us caught and tied up by run-of-the-mill bandits.”

She stared up at the man, who was currently wearing an incredibly smug grin.

“I should’ve left your ass tied up in the bandit hideout.”

[magnumversum]

Before You Lies A Choice

Faren prowled through the woods; leaves and twigs crumpled underneath his talons, as he snuffed through the forest, looking for a human witch and his fellows, and the witch called themself Silias. Silias was a great witch, and a leader of an occult, tentatively called The Silias. Faren’s objectives, as given to him by Rena, were clear: hunt down the occult and kill the leader, King Silias; return to base when finished, bringing with him King Silias’ head on a silver platter. The suspected location of the occult practitioners and their leader the king was deeper within the same forest the wolves themselves resided in. King Silias was supposed to be tried because of various accusations, such as how he supposedly sent demons out to possess and kidnap nearby human and wolf residents, as well as enslaving pups, but because of his war crimes, was ordered by Rena to be immediately executed, and now Faren found himself here, wandering through the deeper parts of the forest, searching for their hideout. He was desperate to find the hideout, as rumors spread that soon, the witches would open a portal to the underworld, releasing all sorts of demons and devils onto the earth.

Roaming through the forest at sunrise was dangerous; perhaps, it was more dangerous than roaming during nighttime, when huskies, werewolves, coyotes, and enemy wolf clans roamed the woods, stalking their prey: lonely pups staying up late playing with rag dolls, or unaware wolves. Either way, Faren risked his life combing through the forest. He and the other wolves were uncertain as to where the hideout was specifically, only following clues delivered to them by untrustworthy anonymous sources. Faren’s mission was one only he could embark on, being that he was Rena’s most skilled fighter, and had a brilliant sense of hearing, which is how he heard stubby footsteps, presumably from another wolf, trailing him through the woods.

He wasn’t too quick to confront whoever followed him, though. Faren knew being overly rash could endanger the mission, so he ignored them, continuing to creep through the forest, as if nothing was wrong. Another time he tried to be confrontational, he ended up almost getting killed. However, the rude huffing and the snarky growl seemed oddly familiar, as if he’d heard them before.

Faren abruptly paused, saying, “I know you’re following me.” He realized this was a terrible mistake, as whatever thing chasing him was probably not amused. “I’m sorry, whoever you are. Politely, I’ll be on my way.”

“It’s just me,” said Veram. “I’m seeking the same thing you are.” Veram he knew; their friendship harkened back to their youngest years, ten years ago, when their mother wolves, Alakumi and Selkim, gathered them for the ritual Sanrus. Faren took comfort in friendly faces, particularly in Veram’s.

“What’re you doing here, Veram?” Faren gathered some logs with his teeth, arranging them carefully. He learned survival techniques from his father as a pup, before one fateful night, he vividly recalled, when hunters raided a wolf nest, and his father Kellan died warding them off. Vivid images of his father bleeding onto them, and intimidating hunters persecuting wolves were engraved in his mind.

“I may very well be seeking the same thing you are, Faren.” Veram had sniffed the occult practitioners, and he suspected they were nearby, specifically by the Mesca Reserve, a man-made lake spanning 18 acres, where unassuming wolves took their pups to bathe.

He muttered, “Probably, but it’s best I go on my own.” Faren was telling the truth. Being accompanied by another wolf would endanger them both. Besides, Veram would probably get sidetracked by the undeniable beauty of the lake.

“No, we’re approaching the reserve.” Veram said demandingly. Faren was reluctant, but he eventually gave in. The reserve, they realized, borders an old military base called Numa Mescao, formerly occupied by the U.S. Army, then overrun by Malzamaese forces, then abandoned the military base after the signing of the Traités de Paris, which ended World War II, and determined that the forces withdraw from enemy lines. As the stunning Mesca Reserve came into view, he recounted how before the World Wars and the construction of the reserve, the surrounding area was used as a dig site, where fossils of triceratops and brachiosauruses were excavated, and he wondered if some remains were still there.

The Mesca Reserve seemed breathtaking under the bright glimmers of sunlight peeking through the woods. Bubble columns simmered from below the lake. Veram said, “I’m going to preen my furs by the shore.”

“Careful,” said Faren. “There’s the king, dead ahead.”

“The king…”

King Silias, accompanied about the lake shore by approximately twenty to twenty-three escorts, eyed them down carefully. “You’re here to tear apart my fortress, no?”

“This is military property, and you’re trespassing,” Faren shouted. “You have one hour to forfeit Numa Mescao to us, effective immediately.”

“I will not forfeit Numa Mescao,” King Silias responded, enraged.

Veram whispered to Faren, “Psst… I thought we’re gonna kill them.”

“I’m only joking,” Faren said loudly. “Of course we’ll kill them.”

Nature trembled, and as geckos, iguanas, and salamanders were shaken from treetops, and eagles and hawks and parrots and owls anxiously fled from their nests, and insect mounds crumbled, absorbed by the soil; and salmon in the lake flopped in and out of the water, terrified; and the chirps, squeaks, growls, barks, squawks, peeps, grunts, whispers and chatters of the woods were silenced, and the trees bowed to him, and an overwhelmingly powerful, dominant howl, later followed by hundreds of thousands of delicate, faint barks and wails, echoed through the breeze, sending the occult practitioners hurtling off a cliff, and Veram catapulting onto a stone ledge, where he bellowed, “Right here!”

Zamara, complained, “What took you so long? What were you doing… admiring yourself in the lake?”

“Course I definitely wasn’t… I was definitely not out by the lake preening my fur before I headed into this fight!”

“You were admiring yourself by the lake? How lazy are you?”

“Certainly not as lazy as the hunters! Did you hear that? You can’t make a shot! You’re lazier than I am… arf, arf, arf—”

Zamara muttered, “We’re missing someone else… Where’s Ujare? Where’s Ujare?”

[ibangtanthings]

Owned - pt 9

The doctor wanted to see you both today, as soon as possible. Both of you, confused and silent on the way there.

You almost fell asleep once again in his arms until the driver announced that you were five minutes away.

“Good morning Doctor Lu, is everything okay?” Namjoon asked her.

“We hope so. I just got the test results back.” She flipped through some papers and circled a few words. “You’re not pregnant Mrs. Kim but these tests show signs of a serious issue.”

“How serious?” Namjoon questioned.

“We’re not sure yet. It seems like stress caused gastritis. Her heart rate is too slow and there’s a chance she can faint anytime. The last thing we want is for her to suffer a heart attack. We need to keep her here at least for tonight.”

“I feel fine.” You spoke before Namjoon could.

“Have you thrown up recently? Experienced any stomach pain?” She asked.

Your face gave her the answer quickly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Namjoon looked at you, concern written all over his face. Then he went into business mode and immediately called Donny.

“Tell him I said sorry for bailing on work so much.” You whispered.

He shook his head and you fell silent. This is the last place you wanted to be. You’d much rather be working on some boring project with Donny. How much longer did you have to wait before things went back to normal?

Without wasting any time, Namjoon sent someone to get you some more comfortable clothes and better food. You walked around the suite aimlessly while he made numerous phone calls.

His arm suddenly wrapped around you from behind and you smiled.

“What are you thinking about? Are you worried?”

“No.” You laughed. “I’m just confused. First your mother thinks I’m pregnant and now this doctor lady tells me I can have a heart attack. Honestly I don’t even want to be here.”

“This is stressing you out even more isn’t it?”

“A little.” You admitted.

He led you to the hospital bed and you laid down beside him. You smiled again, liking the lack of space in the small bed.

“Are you going to stay here all night?”

“Of course. You’re lunch will arrive around noon so do you want to take nap before then?” He asked.

“No.” You replied, touching his hair and feeling like a child.

“Okay then. Let’s talk.” He said seriously and your hand dropped. “You’re not going to work anymore. It worries me too much.”

“Namjoon…I like working. I’m fine really.”

“We just found out that you’re not pregnant and you haven’t said a word about that.” He pointed out.

“It makes me sad.” You whispered, knowing he’d want to talk about it now and not later. “I don’t know whether I should feel relieved or not.”

“It’s cause of me isn’t it?” He asked.

“I feel like I’m supposed to feel how you feel, if that even makes sense.” You sighed.

“It doesn’t. You have your own feelings, it’s okay to tell me.”

Seeing the way he was looking at you and waiting, you weren’t scared of getting into another fight or upsetting him. You took a deep breath and hid our face into his cashmere sweater.

“I’m okay with the fact that I’m not pregnant because you were right, it will be hard to raise a child in this environment…but I started imagining what it would be like to be a family, to have someone call you daddy and run just to hug you when you get home from work. I’m scared it’s just me being too hopeful, or asking for too much. It’s your choice too, so if you don’t want to have kids at all then I understand.” You told him, and it felt good, like a weight was lifted off your shoulders.

Yes, you had false hope and it was time to face it and let it go. You already did the hard part, admitting it.

“You’re not being too hopeful. It’s what any married couple would want, a family, so I am a bit disappointed.”

“You are?” You asked, feeling better.

“Yeah. But that’s okay. Now you know. I do want you to have my baby. Why don’t we just let it happen naturally and deal with everything else together?”

You nodded and hugged him tight. “First we have to deal with your parents. Just because I’m not pregnant, that doesn’t mean they won’t stop trying to tear us apart.”

“First you have to get better.” He ordered.

“I want to work Namjoon. Maybe if I work hard enough, I can at least prove to your parents that I’m not some gold digger.” You explained.

“Who cares what they think? It’s not you Y/N, they’re the ones who have to work hard to gain my trust again. Lodi would be all theirs if they wanted it, but I can’t trust them to do the right thing.”

“It’s just a small step I’m taking to better our relationship. I want their respect at least. Don’t you want all of us to get along? Like a real family?” You said, thinking of what would be best for your child.

He wasn’t moved. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Don’t you want that though?” You pushed, trying to get through to him.

“You can try, getting along with them but when you see that all they care about is money, I hope you’re not too disappointed.” He kissed your forehead and got up. “I’ll go get your lunch.”

He left and you worried about him. Still, you hoped he came around and put some effort into reaching out to his parents, specifically his dad.

________

You tried really hard not to be upset, but he made it so difficult.

“I don’t see why I can’t go back. I’m fine now. Doctor Lu said so.”

Namjoon raised his eyebrow, making you feel small. “Are we really going to keep talking about this?”

“I studied really hard for this. I don’t want to stay here locked up like before.” You whined.

“Locked up?” He scoffed, getting angrier by the second.

This isn’t what you wanted.

“I don’t want to fight about this.” You exhaled, fists trembling at your sides in anxiousness and avoiding his eyes.

“Me either. I’m doing this for you Y/N. Any unnecessary stress isn’t good for you. What if my parents come to the office and they run into you?”

“I can deal with that. We can deal with that like we always do. I’m not doing this just to prove something to them. I’m doing it for me too. Plus, Donny’s doing twice the work he should be just because I’m not there.” You explained.

“Okay, you win. Don’t take on anything that can stress you out. If anything happens-”

“I’ll go straight to your office.” You interrupted.

“Baby, if anything happens I’ll lock you up for real this time.” He said seriously while pulling your waist closer then kissing you tenderly.

It was a small victory. Somehow nothing but worry clouded your mind. He could change his mind at any moment. It felt like you wouldn’t be able to ask him for help anymore, afraid that he might think you were way in over your head.

As things began to resume their normal pace again, you relied on Donny more at work and focused on improving your skills immensely.

“If I don’t think I’m stressed, then I won’t feel stressed.” You said to yourself almost everyday.

And it worked.

“Donny, you missed this one sum, add it to the total and it should be fine.”

“Nice catch Y/N. Namjoon would have made me do it all over again. Luckily this is a just draft.” He said, relieved.

After running to the coffee machine, you walked into his office and he wasn’t there.

It was so hard to see him sometimes, even though you worked in the same damn building. If you saw him, even right outside his office, then you couldn’t even touch him. You had to remain as professional as the other employees who weren’t even married to him.

You walked back to your office and Donny was gone too. Probably looking for coffee as well.

“Mrs. Kim!” The assist ran in, flustered and in a panic.

“What’s wrong Gina?” You walked over to her.

She leaned in closer and whispered. “The client from Faren Brothers is here. Donny just left for a meeting and Mr. Kim is already in a meeting. I don’t know what to do! He says he wants to consult with someone immediately.”

“Okay…bring him in. I guess I can keep him busy.”

She scurried off and you poured the coffee into a mug to offer the client.

“Mrs. Kim, thank you for meeting with me on such short notice. I’m Seo Kwangju.”

You shook his hand and offered him the coffee, taking a seat at your desk.

“Is this an urgent matter Mr. Kwangju? I’m not as experienced as Mr. Kim but I’m willing to help as best as I can.”

“I’m leaving the country in three days but I want you to help me short sell some stocks before then.” He announced.

He must be crazy…three days?

“I know what you’re thinking. This is all within legal guidelines, I assure you. There’s rumors that Armor Technology Incorporated is losing it’s primary funding from Dubai…because they’re moving to Dubai themselves, rumors that are public but not everyone in the industry has their ears open apparently. If those rumors are true-”

“Then the price of their stocks will go down and then up after everyone knows…” you finished.

“Precisely. It seems like you’re more than capable of handling this.” He said getting up with a smile.

You trailed after him. “Three days? How are you so sure the price will go down?”

“If they don’t then don’t worry. I can suffer the loss. If I’m right, then Lodi will have snagged the biggest gain this year. Thanks to you of course.”

What?!

“How many shares are we talking about?” You asked, taking the folder from his hands.

It wasn’t just a hundred or two, no. It was more than you’d ever thought to handle before or even thought you’d get to manage in this lifetime. He wanted an eighth of the stocks, a considerable amount.

“I’ll be in touch.” He said extending his hand out.

You had too many thoughts running through your mind but one seduced your will easily.

“Don’t worry Mr. Kwangju. We have this covered.” You thanked him and got straight to work.

________

Maybe you should have asked more questions but it was what you were preparing for anyways. Most people would kill to get an opportunity like this. If you pulled this off then you’d be untouchable. His parents wouldn’t be able to label you as a gold digger.

“Okay…” you said to yourself with a deep breath. “I buy the stocks from Armor, simple first step. Then I wait…one day…yeah. Next, we sell them all….watch the price fall on day two…and buy them back at a cheaper price…right. Okay, I can do it. Gina!!!”

“Yes Mrs. Kim?”

“Don’t tell anyone that Mr. Kwangju came in today.” You warned with crazy eyes.

Sure enough the price of their stocks went down, just like Mr. Kwangju predicted. By the time other companies wanted to buy shares, you rebought all the one you sold before and made a profit that pleased Mr. Kwangju dearly.

You weren’t prepared for the aftermath though. It was unexpected and unbelievable.

“Mr. Kim would like to see you.” Gina said in a voice smaller than usual.

“Okay thanks.” You said, standing up with nervous fingers.

That morning you had arrived early and didn’t see anyone except the doorman. When you walked out of your office, all the employees congratulated you.

“What’s going o-” you began to say but Donny quickly urged you forward to Namjoon’s office.

“Y/N! He’s mad! It’s my fault, I’m sorry!” Donny whispered and then he pushed you inside quickly shutting the door behind.

Namjoon has his head on his desk and he looked up and place his forehead against the wood again.

“I don’t know what’s going on.” You said quietly, feeling as confused as ever.

“Come here Y/N.” he ordered, standing up.

You walked over to him slowly, never taking your eyes off the floor. When you reached him, he hugged you tightly and told you to sit down.

He turned the computer monitor around.

“Today’s headlines.”

You read the words on the screen and froze.

~Lodi Industries makes 253 Million overnight. Biggest profit within the last year. No comment from any of the Kims yet.~

“You took on our biggest client and made a short sell in three days?! Who told you that you could do that? Everyone knows what you did now. What if the rival companies are going to find some way to turn this around. They’ll say it was me, and that I’m just giving you the credit for it. You’ve only been here for a few months!” He exclaimed, sort of amazed and sort of in panic.

The door opened and things just got weirder.

“Well, well, well. I wonder why there are so many reporters outside? Did the news about the pregnancy get leaked or something?” His father walked right into the office and sat in Namjoon’s chair.

You silently watched as he made himself comfortable and Namjoon rubbed his head, probably having the biggest headache of his life.

“No that’s not it? Oh well, let me see here.” He said turning the monitor towards him. “Hmm…Lodi Industries’ Kim Namjoon’s wife, Y/N, works with Seo Kwangju on massive Armor Tech stock short sale. First major project she has taken part in, scores 235 million.”

The man tapped his fingers on the mouse and smirked. “Million.” He repeated.

“I can explain.” You told him but shook his head, reminding you of Namjoon.

“Do it again.” He said, no he ordered.

“What?” Namjoon asked, taking the thought right out of your head.

“Let her handle a few more clients. If she can perform like this for the time being, I’ll accept her into the family and I won’t try to take Lodi away from you Namjoon.”

____

“You went to meet with him again?” Namjoon looked at you for an answer, disbelief in his eyes.

“Who told you?”

He looked away, put his tongue in his cheek and nodded. “Why are you doing this? Why aren’t you listening to me?”

“I’m doing this for us. For our fam-”

He stepped forward suddenly and grabbed your wrists. “That’s not what we are.”

“But it’s what we could be.” You said quietly.

“I told you already Y/N. The only thing they care about is money. They’re using you right now. He probably already bought out all the clients that are lining up to work with you.” He said, frustrated. “The family you’re thinking of…….I don’t want any part of it.”

He stormed off into the room and left you there in pieces.

Things were different now. He no longer held you or kissed you. Once again, you were no one to him.

You knew that Namjoon was right. His father had bought most of the clients already, he admitted it himself, but he had also promised you what you wanted and more. Not only did he promise to leave Lodi alone, he promised to accept your marriage to Namjoon and any child that would come. He promised to get to know Namjoon and try to grow closer to his son.

Refusing to believe that Namjoon didn’t want to rebuild the relationship with his parents, you worked hard on new project and with new clients. Once again you tried to stay out of Namjoon’s way, at home and in public.

At night it was worse. It wasn’t that you stayed away from each other. It was that he still pulled you close and you laid on his chest, watching his every breath. It was torture not being able to kiss his skin, his lips.

Only rarely did he run his thumb on your arm, maybe unconsciously, but you hoped he knew what he was doing. ___________________________

Part 10

[pauperpedia]

Tuesday Brewsday 21: Peasantries

Over the last couple of weeks I’ve been introduced to a pretty sweet format called Peasant. What is Peasant you might ask, well it’s a format very similar to Pauper, except that you’re allowed five uncommons in your deck. There is a different ban list as well, but notably Arcum’s Astrolabe, Cloud of Faeries, Hymn to Tourach, and Sinkhole are all legal to play. The entire ban list, popular decks, and rules can be found HERE. The format has been around since 2000, and I’m actually surprised it never caught on the way pauper did. You’d be surprised what you can do with five uncommon slots, and I’ve brewed up a plethora of fun decks to play. It wouldn’t be fair to the format though if I didn’t showcase some of the more popular decks, as well as mention that there is a free to enter gatherling tournament that starts at 8am est. on Sunday with 20 tix in prize support for top 4.

Pauper has always been lacking consistent combo kills, and when one finally arises it immediately gets the ban hammer. Peasant, however, has many combos you can exploit. With cards like High Tide , Cloud of Faeries, and Arcum’s Astrolabe being legal, one could have a field day with Familiars. Looking for alternate win cons? A deck named Demonic Mania has you covered. This deck uses Demonic Consultation to exile all the cards in your library, and when you have Laboratory Maniac on the battlefield, just draw a card for the win. Heck even those loving the hip new walls deck can play with Wall of Blossoms and Assault Formation! Do you love storm and relish the days when Grapeshot and Empty the Warrens were legal? Well you could play with Young Pyromancer to “storm” off with tons of 1/1 elemental tokens. Would you like to play with a card that is banned or restricted in every format? Well you can with Tinker! Imagine turn one Saprazzan Skerry into turn two Seat of the Synod casting Tinker to grab God-Pharoah’s Statue, it really turns the game into an uphill battle for your opponent.

Alright, so there are a lot of combo decks out there, but what if you wanted to play magic like it was 1993? Try Mono Black Control featuring Dark Ritual, Hypnotic Specter, Hymn to Tourach, and Sinkhole. MBC definitely gets an upgrade in this format. If playing Specter isn’t your cup of tea, try playing Smallpox alongside Davriel, Rogue Shadowmage. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention there are some pretty powerful Planeswalkers you can play with in Peasant. Mono Black or Rakdos Reanimator becomes viable as well with Animate Dead, giving you even more reanimate spells for your favorite Eldrazi monster.

Pauper legend jherjamesb has been having fun with his version of Mono U Delver, and even won the last peasant tournament. The deck takes advantage of phyrexian mana by playing Mental Misstep, a “free” counterspell that targets 1 cmc spells. Curious Obsession is the perfect tempo play that keeps the card draw engine rolling so that you never run out of answers or counterspells. Daze is even legal allowing you to not only protect a turn one Delver from removal, but can return Mystic Sanctuary back to your hand in the late game.

All of you Mono White Heroic fans out there can rejoice in Peasant. Favored Hoplite is another one drop heroic creature you can target that can evade red removal fairly easily. Another powerful card you can play is Enlightened Tutor; who doesn’t love instant speed tutor effects on your opponent’s end step to set up your next turn!? Love playing Soul Sisters but are bitter there is no payoff in pauper? Well in Peasant you can play with Ajani’s Pridemate and Sword of the Meek.

What about Stompy? What uncommons can boost this Pauper favorite? There a few different directions you can take. You can jam Dryad Militant in the deck which stops your opponent from abusing cards like Mystic Sanctuary and Ghostly Flicker. If that doesn’t tickle your fancy then there is Strangleroot Geist, Curse of Predation, and Syr Faren, the Hengehammer. If Stompy isn’t your thing and you’re more of an elf player when you want to play green, Peasant has some interesting cards for you. Wirewood Symbiot, Imperious Perfect, and Shaman of the Pack make elves absolutely amazing.

Burn players have some lovely options to play with. First and foremost is Monastery Swiftspear, which is a staple in legacy, modern, and pioneer. If life gain strategies and damage prevention become prevalent, you can jam in Skullcrack. Light up the Stage is an auto include as well, and being able to essentially draw two cards for one mana can win you the game more often than not.

Ever since Palace Sentinels was made available, Boros Monarch has been one of the best decks out there. What if I told you there was a better version? Let me introduce you to Palace Jailer. This card is a staple in legacy and is an absolute boss in peasant. You can run Arcum’s Astrolabe alongside Glint Hawk & Kor Skyfisher and splash Esperzoa. Others have even played Thopter Foundry and Ghirapur Aether Grid in a more artifact centric build.

Tron players have the luxury of playing Firespout, Pyroclasm, and Artisan of Kozilek. These cards put Tron on a wholenother level. Other cards that you could slot in fairly easily are Eternal Witness, Meteor Golem, Kiora, Behemoth Beckoner, Felidar Guardian, Flametongue Kavu, and many others that suit your play style.

So you’re a UR player eh? A popular peasant deck referred to as CounterTop has had very good success in the gatherling tournaments. Running true to its name, the deck plays three copies of Counterbalance and two copies of Sensei’s Divining Top, which makes it so that every spell your opponent plays can be easily countered with little effort.

It wouldn’t be a Tuesday Brewsday if I didn’t include my own brew. So here it is, Zombies. Wait, what!? You’re just going to take experience from the pauper, combine all those sweet uncommons, and end up building zombies? Yes, yes I am. I’ve always been curious about John Poglodzinski’s zombie list they piloted to a top 8 at MCQ Los Angeles last year. Since then, Defile and Lazotep Reaver have been printed and I was wondering if those would make the deck better. Now that I get to add uncommons, well the deck really comes alive. Having access to Undead Augur is just pure gas and well worth it. At its floor it’s a 2/2 creature that when it dies you draw a card and lose 1 life. At its ceiling it’s an amazing card draw engine when combined with Carrion Feeder and adds two black pips for Gray Merchant of Asphodel. The other uncommon I’m running is Angrath, Captain of Chaos. This Planeswalker gives all your creatures menace for just being there and comes in with 5 loyalty. For 2 loyalty you can create a 2/2 zombie army token, or add two +1/+1 counters to an existing zombie army token. If you combine this with multiple etb effects from Lazotep Reaver, you end up with a massive zombie that is difficult to block. Here is my LIST. I like having access to removal even when tapped out in this format. Being able to kill a Laboratory Maniac when my opponent thought they were in the clear is crucial. That’s why I like to run Snuff Out. Since we have Undead Augur, Sign in Blood isn’t as essential. I’ve opted for Foreboding Fruit as a one of in the deck to draw and some cards and gain three life points back when I sacrifice the food token. I’m not running as many edicts, but that’s a product of the current meta. If decks that are susceptible to edicts become more in favor, I could easily add a couple more. In the sideboard I went with Hymn to Tourach over duress and Sinkhole over Choking Sands because I feel like they’re more efficient.

Peasant is definitely a brewers format right now with lots of room to grow. A majority of the players are from the EU, but it would be amazing if more players from the US and Brazil hop on board. Maybe you can brew the next hot Peasant deck, or pilot one of the many established decks and win some tix in the free to enter tournament on Sunday. Please visit and like/follow my Facebook page pauperpedia, a fan page dedicated to bringing you links to daily articles, videos, and podcast covering Pauper. You can also email me at Pauperpedia@gmail.com if any of you have submissions as well. Till next time folks, have a happy Brewsday!

[satellitescion]

About Záigon

(Warning before you proceed- theres been like no editing in this, so how things are described will probably jump around a lot. There’s also mentions of death if anyone happens to be sensitive to that)

Where he gets what from

He’s got two sets of families to get shit from, the first being his biological family that he lived with til they died when he was eight, and the second his adopted family in Divinity’s Reach

He’s definitely got his “calm” from his genetics, as I imagine his adopted family would have little chill. He’s got his fighting style from his dad, who inspired him to learn to use a great sword in the first place. His mother granted him his looks, dark hair, pale skin. Blue eyes came from his father.

His “grumpy” attitude comes from growing up in a restricting household, and his teen rebellion evolved into a large portion of his personality. He also gets his organising skills from his businessman “father”/caregiver.

He’s rather closed off and independent, a result of being orphaned and put into a family he didn’t quite fit. He’s got trust issues, as a lot of past friendships and relationships have backfired on him, as well as taunts from other kids. He’s no where near eager to consider anyone a friend, aside from Faren, who is the last of his childhood friends who he still has with him. He’s probably also got mild ptsd, but that’s pretty self explanatory from all the shit that happens in the story. Rarely gets decent sleep, yet still functions relatively well. He’s used to it.

Feelings, relationships and shit

He’s gay and Biromantic (sexually into only guys, could be romantically into girls, yet has no desire to date any, mainly because he can’t be bothered to explain how he’s gay yet has a girlfriend), and has only ever had one official relationship. They were together for around 2 years before Mars had to leave for Elona (parents joined Order Of Shadows or something), and haven’t seen eachother since. Mars has of course been watching over Záigon, though he’s scared to actually meet with him, especially as they have a son together (Mars is trans), Quinn.

While he has a strong bond with his colleague, partner, whatever you wanna call her Aikota, he doesn’t even consider her a friend due to his trust issues (thinks she’s immune to his “curse” of friends dying or leaving mysteriously that way). They tease each other a fair bit, but offer support to each other when needed (more like Záigon comforts the mildly emotional Aikota, who is terrible at giving support).

One thing that caused a large rift in his old friendship group was the death of his best friend Joel’s brother. After Joel tried to hold Záigon back from saving Tom (due to fear of losing him too), Joel snapped out of grief and rage and blamed Záigon for the death. He even went as far as to claim Záigon had killed Tom himself, but not many believed him. Still, the separation of the two tore their friends apart, causing most of them to go with and support Joel.

As for family ties, his biological family died when he was 8, and he doesn’t consider the family who took him in as his family, so he really only has his “adopted daughters” Aurene and Taimi from what he knows. He’s the team dad, and subconsciously “adopts” his guildmates as kids. Still very much unaware of how close Mars really is, and even more so of their son.

Other General stuff

He’s 25, lives in his family home in Kessex Hills (pretending there is an actual accessible house there), though he’s usually away from home on missions and the like. He has names for all of his minions, but he hasn’t named all of his mounts yet. All can’t tell the difference between his bone minions, so he just tries to avoid calling them individually when he can. Which is surprisingly hard to do when he lets his minions roam his house as they please, and he needs to call for them or tell them off for things. They’re essentially like really weird pets, but he doesn’t consider them as such. He’s a follower of Grenth, which naturally inspired him to talk the necromancy path, yet he isn’t as much of a “passionate follower” of the gods as some others. He respects all of the Five, obviously favouring his god. He doesn’t pray as much as those around him, especially after learning about the gods leaving, yet he still makes visits to the cathedral of silence.

[krissysbookshelf]

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  Dusty’s Diary by Bobby Adair: I played all the video games. I watched movies and read books. In most of those, the hero kills the zombies, drives an awesome car, has enough to eat, and always seems to get laid. I wrote this journal because the apocalypse sucks and doesn’t meet my expectations at all. Honestly, I was looking forward to it. It’s not like I don’t like people because I do. I was tired of all the crap I had to put up with. I was tired of dealing with traffic and my ex wife yelling at me. A zombie apocalypse looked like a good future for me. Here’s my story. Let me know what you think.

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  Oddjobs by Heide Goody and Iain Grant: This is for anyone who ever had a bad day at work. However bad your job is, you could be like these guys and work for the secret government organization responsible for making sure the apocalypse goes as smoothly and as quietly as possible.

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