#i've got nearly 7k word in the last week and it's killing me not to share

[coldshrugs]

this fic is turning out much longer than i was expecting so i don't think i'll have much to show for it for Some Time. but i wanted to share a few things as a little boost :>

very into this description:

In an instant, Saint Valeroyant's Forum takes shape around her. Imposing spires of charcoal stone and metal meet the snow-bright sky above, but on the ground, folks pick their way around crumbling rock and rickety boardwalks. Half of Valeroyant still reclines against the edge of the fountain. Io assumes this courtyard was once elegant to behold, but in its current state, she sees only a fitting metaphor in the fallen statue: how much the nation demands of her soldiers, and the kind of rest they might find in their futures. The air is thicker in Foundation. Smoky, colder, and colored by the scents and sounds of the Forgotten Knight: brewing ale, smoked meats, and rowdy laughter. It is only midday and the tavern is already in full swing. She remembers staying in a dingy Cloud Nine room that was never quiet enough to rest soundly, but Gibrillont made sure she, Tataru, and Alphinaud were warm and fed. That was plenty, after what they'd fled. Nostalgia's inviting whisper almost pulls Io into the tavern... but a soldier clinks past, reminding her why she's here. She bears straight ahead, into the Congregation of Our Knights Most Heavenly.

positioning edmont as a jerk lmao:

Io stares into the flames as she listens to him. His hospitality seemed freely given but she cannot help but recall something he said moons ago: 'How quickly we forget the petty nature of men. I'd wager your friends are no more than pawns in another of my countrymen's games. Such is the way of things between the High Houses...' House Fortemps is no different, she supposes.

then i'm trying out something of a written greek chorus/found "footage" thing that adds a little extra context here and there:

"–daresay it was one of the more awkward sessions of my career. The bride sat beautifully while her soon-to-be husband fidgeted, though I hear he is an energetic man with a racing mind. They did converse during the sitting, as well-acquainted friends; his lordship is a veritable jester and his humor seemed to keep his lady at ease. I had been told they were a love match. Alas, I would liken the flame between them to a bedside candle instead of the roaring fire usually found in the betrothed... " –Renowned portraitist Duremert, overheard while shopping in the Jeweled Crozier

"Ser Varlineau (as I am apparently expected to address you), Your arrival comes as the most delightful surprise. I expected you to stay away for far longer. I forgive you for not seeking me out, but I think you will enjoy the fact I've made a fool of myself in looking for you. Please do come see me. It's been too long. Your friend, Io" –A note found while cleaning the desk of Lord Commander of the Temple Knights.

finally. some angry flirting sjdfjkls:

She is a far more recognizable version of herself tonight. "How come you never sing to me, Gany?" she asks her bird. Ganymede responds only with huffs and chirps, his midnight feathers ruffling as if he finds the idea distasteful. Estinien watches her soothe him. "More keen to claw than sing, that one," Estinien says. She startles, whipping to face him, as deep and blue as the night around them. It only takes a moment for recognition, or memory, to warp her expression into a glare. "Something else you have in common with him." Io throws the cloak around her shoulders and fusses with a hasty knot. "I thought it might just be the pompous strutting." She's angry at him, yes, but she is still herself. Amusement tugs at his lips. "I don't strut."