#if anyone is curious the forest they are in is east of the town of Rauru

[bluevaractyl]

So I wrote a thing. I was not expecting to write a thing, and it turned out a lot angstier than I planned, but I think I managed to wrangle it into something readable. I promise there is comfort at the end. It's also on Ao3.

Warnings: canon-typical blood and violence, if you have arachnophobia you should probably skip this one. Let me know if I need to add something.

Don't (forget to) look up

The forest flew by. Wild sprinted ahead, leaping over a fallen tree. All too soon his stamina gave out and he stumbled to a walk, gasping as he tried to catch his breath. Ahead of him, the tail of the black lizalfos whipped out of sight. He clenched his fist and growled in frustration.

The clanking of weapons against armor and hurried footsteps heralded the arrival of the rest of the group as they caught up. Wild sighed and turned to face them.

“It got away,” Warriors said once they were close enough. It wasn’t a question, but Wild nodded. Rested enough, he bounced on the balls of his feet, ready to take off running again. A hand on his arm stopped him. He looked up at Twilight.

“Now hang on, don’t go haring off again. Now that we’ve lost him there’s no point, and we need to stick together, anyhow.” The older hero gave Wild a firm look, hand still on his bicep like he thought Wild would dart off if given the chance. To be fair, Wild had given him good reason to think so.

Wild sighed and nodded, resigned. The lizalfos was too far ahead by now for them to hope they could catch up, and even he could admit that taking it on alone would have been risky. It had already proven a far cleverer foe than any other monster they’d encountered. Twilight stared a moment longer, then released him and stepped away. He turned to Time, who was frowning in the direction the lizalfos had disappeared in.

Time seemed to come to a decision. “Let’s keep going.”

Twilight looked surprised but closed his mouth. Time continued walking, and after exchanging curious looks, they all followed. A few moments later, a strange, familiar sound reached Wild’s ears. They stepped into a clearing and stopped as one.

In the center of the clearing stood another gate. The intricate arch glowed an eerie purple, its depths swirling and dark. Looking at it too long made Wild feel dizzy.

“Looks like we might catch up to our slippery friend after all,” Warriors declared, hefting his sword with a savage smile. Time was still frowning, but he shook his head and addressed them all.

“Alright. We don’t know what we’ll find on the other side, so be prepared for anything.” With that, he stepped forward and entered the portal, his form wavering and vanishing.

Wild tightened the straps and checked that his slate was securely attached to his belt. Around him, the others did the same, checking weapons and bags and then following Time through the gate. Wild walked through just after Wind.

The feeling of moving between worlds was just as strange as the first time. It felt a bit like swimming against a strong current. Pressure built in Wild’s ears and against his closed eyes until abruptly disappearing as he stepped out onto solid ground. He took a breath as if breaking the surface and opened his eyes.

The gate led to a forest not unlike the one they had just left. Tall trees obscured the sky. Time, Warriors, Legend, and Twilight stood in soft conversation. Wind was turning in circles looking around. Behind Wild, Hyrule and Four exited the gate, followed by Sky.

“Where are we?” asked Sky, tilting his head back to peer through the canopy.

The others’ conversation paused. Time explained, “We aren’t sure yet. Do any of you recognize it?” Everyone shook their heads. Wild checked his slate, but the map was nothing but static, as usual. Wherever they were, it wasn’t his Hyrule.

Time didn’t seem surprised. A forest was a forest, Wild supposed, so without any sort of landmark, it could have been anyone’s – or even none of theirs. “Let’s get settled, then. It will be getting dark soon,” Time said. The group moved away from the humming gate, looking for a suitable place to spend the night. It was an unspoken rule that they never camped too close to a portal. The strange magic emanating from it made them all uneasy, not to mention the danger of something coming through while they slept and taking them by surprise.

They didn’t have to go far. Half an hour later, they were moving stones and setting up a fire in the middle of a clearing. Wild crouched by the firepit and started removing ingredients from his slate. He still had some goat butter and rock salt; maybe he could make risotto tonight.

The rice was cooking and Wild was dicing mushrooms when a hulking figure suddenly crashed through the trees, bellowing. Everyone leapt to their feet. Wild’s cutting board flipped over as he jumped up, yanking his shield onto his arm and drawing his sword. An armored, snub-nosed monster wielding a spear was attempting to skewer Wind, who used his small size to dodge and slash at its ankles. Two more of the monsters emerged from the trees and joined the fight. Wild wasted no time moving to engage.

Ducking below the spear, Wild stabbed upwards and was dismayed when his sword skated off its breastplate with a screech of metal. Backflipping away, he spared half a second to assess its weaknesses. While its torso and upper legs were well protected, its head was bare. It snarled at him, long canines protruding from its lower jaw, and jabbed the spear at him. He easily leapt to the side and yanked at the spear as it passed, hoping to pull the monster off balance. It was stronger than he’d anticipated, though, and stayed firm. Before Wild could recover, it had swung the haft into his midsection, throwing him back. He hit the ground hard with the air knocked from his lungs. Pain sparked through his head and back where they impacted.

Suddenly Hyrule was there, jumping impossibly high into the air. Sword pointed down, he fell upon the monster’s head, killing it instantly. It dissipated into purple smoke.

Hyrule approached where Wild was still on the ground trying to breathe. He held out a hand and pulled Wild to his feet. Then they both silently surveyed the battle.

Monster parts and a fallen spear suggested one of the bulky beasts had already been taken care of, but more must have appeared while Wild was focused on his, because now there were four facing off against the other heroes. Though outnumbered, the monsters were firmly on the offensive. Wild watched one thrust its spear towards Legend. Legend barely raised his shield in time to block and was pushed back several feet by the force.

Wild unslung his bow and nocked an arrow. Shifting his posture, he drew the string to his cheek, carefully aiming between the monster’s eyes as it advanced again. Just before he released, Hyrule yelled, “Wild, behind—”

A heavy weight slammed into Wild’s shoulders, knocking him to the ground again. Something sharp sank into either side of his neck, and he screamed in a mix of surprise and pain. Writhing, he tried to roll over or shake it off, but the creature only dug in harder. Tears sprang to his eyes. He twisted to try to reach his bag or quiver or anything to defend himself with, but instead his hand brushed something hard and segmented that moved at his touch. Panic gripped his chest, making it harder to breathe.

“Hyah!” a voice directly above him cried, and suddenly the monster released him with a screech. The weight disappeared. Wild immediately rolled over and scrambled away, dizzy from fear and relief and something else, probably. The world swam. He put one hand to his neck and felt a dull throb. Pulling it away, he found his palm red with blood. Oh, he thought muzzily, that’s not good.

~

Hyrule killed the deeler with a precise stab before it could attack again, then turned to make sure Wild was okay.

Wild was not okay. He was sitting propped on one elbow and staring at his other hand, which was dripping blood. He didn’t seem to notice Hyrule approach.

“Wild…?” Hyrule said uncertainly, a moment before Wild’s eyes rolled back and he slumped backward.

“Wild!” Hyrule skidded to his knees next to the champion and hovered uncertainly. There was a lot of blood, most of it coming from the deep puncture wounds on the back of his neck. Hyrule covered the wounds and applied pressure. With his other hand, he shook Wild’s shoulder, gently at first, then harder when he got no response.

Wild’s eyes opened and he blinked slowly. He grunted, “Mmf. Leave m’ ’lone, ‘Rule.” Hyrule let out a relieved breath.

Suddenly, Wild’s eyes widened and his breathing became faster. His legs kicked weakly at the ground like he was trying to get up. “’Rule, c’nt move,” he mumbled, sounding distressed. Hyrule’s heart sank.

Deelers used venom to incapacitate victims. Usually the paralysis was very limited and faded quickly, but Hyrule had never been bitten for more than a second or two. Wild had had the deeler on him for far longer, and it was showing. Hyrule scanned him with a worried eye. His entire upper body seemed to be affected already. He was looking less alert by the second, and his breathing was slowing again. A terrifying thought occurred to Hyrule: what would happen if the venom reached his heart or lungs?

He could use Life to heal Wild’s wounds, but the venom would still be in his bloodstream. Even a potion wouldn’t stop it, and Wild would have to be awake to drink it anyway. Maybe a fairy? Deelers were undeniably dark creatures, and this one had been infected, so it seemed possible that a fairy’s magic could neutralize the venom.

Hyrule didn’t have any fairies with him since the ones in his world didn’t like bottles. He grabbed for the bag hanging from Wild’s belt and dug inside it, but no fairies appeared. Desperate, he looked around. The others had almost ended the fight. As Hyrule watched, Time’s massive sword came down and snapped the last moblin’s spear in half. Sky finished it off with a swift strike to its neck. It went down.

Hyrule looked back down at Wild. His friend’s eyes were half-lidded and unfocused, and only the shallow rise and fall of his chest showed he was alive. They were running out of time.

“It’s going to be okay, Wild, just, just wait right here. It’s okay.” The words came out rushed. Hyrule couldn’t tell if Wild had even heard. Standing, he backed away and ran as fast as he could to the others.

As soon as he was within hearing range, Hyrule barked, “I need a fairy, now!” He skidded to a stop by Time, almost running into the taller man in his haste.

Time put his hands on Hyrule’s shoulders, steadying him. “What’s happened? Who needs a fairy?” Before Hyrule could answer, Twilight looked in the direction Hyrule had come from and paled. Without a word, he took off running.

The words spilled out of Hyrule. “Wild got bitten by a deeler, and usually the venom’s not so bad, but this time’s worse, and I think he’s going to—we need a fairy, quick, who has a fairy?”

Warriors’s gaze hardened and he started jogging over to where Hyrule had left Wild. They all hurried to follow.

Twilight was knelt at Wild’s side, cupping the back of his neck in one hand and holding his lax wrist in the other. Warriors immediately bent down to examine him.

Since Hyrule had left, Wild’s eyes had closed again. The pool of blood around his head had spread. It didn’t look like he was breathing. Hyrule’s heart skipped a beat.

Legend hesitantly asked, “Is he…?”

Warriors didn’t answer for a moment, fingers pressed to Wild’s neck. Finally, he said, voice tense, “Nearly. Hyrule—” Hyrule jumped at his name “—why a fairy? Why not use your spell?”

Hyrule stumbled to explain. “The venom—the spell wouldn’t stop it, and so he might die anyway, and then I wouldn’t have enough magic left to save him—but a fairy—it’s, they’re creatures of light, right? So I thought—I thought maybe—” He took in a gasping breath, helpless panic filling him. He looked from one face to another, but if any of them had a fairy with them, they would have said so.

Wind voiced the question they were all thinking. “What do we do?” He suddenly looked his age, frightened and unsure.

Warriors stayed crouched by Wild, but he looked up and said in a steady voice, “Wind, Four, Time, Sky, split into pairs and search for fairies. Even better if you find a fairy fountain—”

Hyrule interrupted, “There aren’t any. The fountains are gone.” At Warriors’s questioning look, he explained, suddenly horribly certain, “This is my world. You might be able to catch a fairy in the woods. Look out for deelers in the trees.”

Warriors accepted this with a nod. “You four, look for a fairy. Watch each other’s backs. Go.”

Wind immediately seized Time’s hand, and Time allowed himself to be pulled into the forest. Sky and Four set off in the opposite direction, clearly relieved to be given some sort of instruction.

Warriors continued, “Twilight, stay where you are and keep pressure on the wound. Legend, I need clean water and bandages, and potions if you have any. Hyrule…be ready.” His voice wavered on the last word, and he cleared his throat and turned away.

Cold washed over Hyrule as the meaning sank in. Unless the others returned with a fairy or Wild’s body broke down the venom in time, his heart would stop beating, and then Hyrule would be their only hope.

Legend gave a soft “aha!” from where he had been digging in his bag and withdrew a roll of cloth bandages. He handed the bandages and a bottle of water to Warriors and resumed searching his bag.

Warriors had Twilight carefully roll Wild onto his side so he could access the wound. He poured some of the water over the punctures to clear the blood away, then dabbed at them with a cloth. They were still bleeding steadily, but not spurting, at least, so probably nothing too vital had been hit. Hyrule tried to put what-ifs out of his mind.

Warriors frowned and began wrapping the wound. Hyrule watched, feeling as dazed as if he’d been the one bitten. Legend placed a single red potion on the ground in arm’s reach of Twilight. Then he came to stand by Hyrule, twisting his hat in his hands anxiously.

Warriors finished with the bandages and lay Wild down again. He felt for a pulse again. After a long moment, he leaned over and placed his ear over Wild’s chest. When he looked up again, his expression was solemn. “We can’t wait any longer. Either the venom has run its course, or it hasn’t. Hyrule, he needs your help now.”

Hyrule stepped forward, taking Warriors’s place by Wild’s side. All of his previous panic had been washed away by a calm focus. He gathered his magic to his fingertips, placed them on Wild’s chest, and cast his Life spell.

Of all the spells Hyrule knew, only Thunder required more magic than Life. He’d only used a little for Jump earlier, but it had been a long day. Almost immediately he could feel exhaustion tugging at him. He grit his teeth and put all of his focus into coaxing Wild’s damaged body to heal itself.

He directed the spell to the wound at Wild’s neck, then let it spread, moving up his head and down along his spine. He could feel it working, repairing and revitalizing damaged tissues. It wasn’t enough, though. Determination surging, he poured energy into Wild’s failing body, urging his heart and lungs to move as they ought to.

Beneath Hyrule’s hands, Wild suddenly shuddered and took a deep, gasping breath. He tried to sit up but fell back, gulping air and shaking like a leaf in a storm. Hyrule sat down hard, dizzy with relief and exhausted beyond belief, and watched Twilight put an arm around Wild’s shoulders and guide him to lean back against his chest.

He’d done it. Wild was going to be okay.

Hyrule let his eyes fall shut. He felt as if he’d just taken on Ganon a second time. His whole body ached from how tense he’d been, and his magic was wrung dry. A nap sounded like the best idea in the world. Safe in the knowledge that his friends could handle things from here, he let himself fall asleep.

~

Wild awoke with the terrible certainty that something was wrong. He couldn’t remember what had happened, but his heart was pounding like a galloping horse and everything hurt. Adrenaline was rushing through him, urging him to act. His chest was burning.

He tried to get up, certain that there was danger nearby. Immediately, every muscle in his body protested loudly. He let his head fall back to the ground with a dull thud, still gasping for air. What in Hyrule happened to me? he thought in bewilderment.

Suddenly strong hands were supporting his back, helping him to sit up. His head lolled to the side. He was leaned back against something warm and solid. A familiar voice asked by his ear, “You with us, Cub?”

Wild dragged his eyes open. Blurred colors resolved into the vague shape of someone leaning over him. The bright green and deep blue told him it was probably Warriors.

“Wha’ happ’n?” he managed. His tongue felt thick and clumsy in his mouth.

Warriors responded, voice oddly careful, “A deeler got you. How much do you remember?”

Wild pondered that for a moment, letting the words pierce through the fog in his brain. A deeler? He didn’t know what a deeler was. He absently reached up to scratch the back of his neck. His fingers met bandages, and all at once, panic was sweeping through him as he remembered the awful feeling of a creature’s fangs buried in the flesh there.

A hand captured his and pulled it away from the bandages. A low voice prompted, “Just breathe, Wild. It’s alright. Hyrule took care of it. Breathe.” Wild obediently sucked in a breath, choked, and tried again. He let out an involuntary whimper, overwhelmed.

Someone was rubbing soothing circles on his back. Wild tried to focus on that instead. Gradually breathing became easier, and he sagged back. Fur tickled his cheek.

“Twi?” he asked, finally realizing what—or who, rather—he was leaning against.

There was a puff of air against his ear as Twilight chuckled. “Yeah, Wild, it’s me. How are you feeling?”

Wild sighed, “Tired. ‘verythin’ hurts. M’ heart’s beatin’ real fast.”

Cool fingers pressed against his throat. His eyes shot open again, and he could just make out Warriors apologetic smile. “Sorry, just checking. Hyrule might have overdone it a bit.” Apparently satisfied, Warriors drew back and bent over someone else.

“Hyrule! Is ‘e ‘kay?” Wild struggled to sit up more, trying to see the traveler. A green and brown lump sat slumped against Legend, who so far hadn’t said a word.

Twilight shushed him gently. “He’s fine, Wild, just sleeping. That spell wore him out.” The rancher carded his fingers through Wild’s hair, pausing when Wild winced. The back of his head felt sticky.

Before Wild could fully process why and freak out again, pounding footsteps approached. He jerked upright and twisted around to look, then lost his balance and would have tipped over if Twilight hadn’t quickly wrapped an arm around his chest.

Wind and Time were hurrying toward them. Something small and glowy was following them. Wild squinted, but his vision was still messed up, and he couldn’t tell what it was. Wind jolted to a stop and then dashed forward faster than Wild could track. With an oomf! Wild suddenly had an armful of sobbing teenager.

Wind cried into his shoulder, “I thought—I thought we took too long and we would—hic!—we’d come back and you’d be g-gone!” He hugged Wild tighter. Wild did his best to reciprocate. Eventually the tears slowed, and Wind sat back. He scrubbed his face with his sleeve.

Time bent down and put a hand on Wild’s shoulder. To Wind, he said, “Let’s give him some space, alright?” Wind nodded, breathing shakily. He scooted back a little.

Suddenly the glowing light bobbed into view right in front of Wild. Up close, he could see it was shaped like a very small person with delicate wings. It must have been a fairy, though he had never seen a fairy like it before.

The fairy flew right up to his face, making him go cross-eyed. It gave a distressed chime. Then it darted upward and zipped in shimmering circles above him. Wild relaxed as the pain faded and the world came into clearer focus. He hadn’t realized quite how awful it was before.

He looked up at the fairy, who was still hovering anxiously, and said gratefully, “Thanks.” It chimed in answer, then swooped down over Hyrule and did the same. Satisfied, it flitted away into the forest.

Wild yawned. The frantic energy that had been thrumming in his veins since waking up was finally gone, replaced by tiredness. Sleep dragged at his eyelids. He thought he heard the smithy’s voice, but then Twilight rumbled something soothing, and he drifted off.

~

Time watched Wild’s breathing even out into true sleep. As soon as he was sure the champion wouldn’t hear, he turned to Warriors and demanded, “What happened while we were gone?”

Warriors sighed and motioned for him to sit. Time, Sky, and Four all joined the loose circle on the ground.

Warriors glanced over at Hyrule as if checking he was still asleep, then stated flatly, “It was really close.”

Time had suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed made him glad he was sitting down.

Warriors continued, “We did what we could for the wound, of course, but Hyrule was right that it was risky to try to heal him with the venom still circulating, so we waited to see if his body could deal with it fast enough. His breathing was too shallow, though, and his heartbeat just got weaker, so eventually we couldn’t wait any longer. I asked Hyrule to heal him.”

Warriors paused and shook his head with a breathy laugh. “Our traveler’s really something. I didn’t think it was working, but he doesn’t know the meaning of giving up. Suddenly Wild was awake and breathing again. The fairy took care of the rest of it, and after a bit of rest, they both should be fine.”

Time let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. When he had left with Wind to search for a fairy, some part of him had been convinced they would come back to find the champion dead. He had only agreed to go because watching helplessly was worse. He truly hadn’t expected they would find a fairy. Convincing it to help hadn’t been hard, in the end; the traveler’s world may have been scarred by hatred, but it still held kindness too.

Returning to find Wild upright and alert had calmed the torrent of pain and dread his injury had wrought. Looking around, Time could see his own feelings reflected in the others’ eyes. Wind was sniffling again. Sky pulled him closer, wrapping his sailcloth around them both.

Time cleared his throat and said, “We’ll camp here tonight.” He stood and went to restart the fire. As he passed Warriors, he clasped his shoulder and murmured, “You did well, Captain. Thank you.”

They all set about preparing to settle down for the night, voices kept low so as not to wake the two sleeping heroes. Sky retrieved rations from his bag and passed them around. Four gathered firewood to keep the fire going. Twilight carefully lifted a still-sleeping Wild and carried him to his own bedroll, laying him down and tucking the blankets around him. Time did the same for Hyrule. The traveler shifted as he was laid down but settled easily when Time hummed a few notes.

The sky was dark by the time Time sat down on a log next to Twilight. The younger man was gazing into the fire, his expression haunted. The day had been a shock for all of them, but undoubtedly Twilight especially.

“He’s going to be okay, Pup. I know that wasn’t easy, but it’s over.” He reached over and put his arm around Twilight’s shaking shoulders, pulling him to lean against Time’s side. In the morning, he would have to talk to Wild about working as a team and staying aware of his surroundings. He would have to check that Hyrule was recovering from the stress of holding his brother’s life in his hands. But for now, all was as it should be. “It’s over.”

[k9wa]

⟁ SANGUINE. ft ARGENTI.

⠀ — “but should you allow me, i would be truly endowed to taste you, hunter.”

⠀ OR

⠀ — a vampire is struck with love at first sight for the human sent to pierce his heart.

⚠︎ vampire!argent & vampire hunter!reader, gn reader, mentions of blood, consuming blood, death, weapons, all that vampire-y stuff, suggestive content, a little sweetness, some gore, so much flirting, argenti is a lil bit of a freak, your freak tho, i love doomed couples, wc 3.2k, from this req.

it’d been weeks now— weeks of terror and bloodshed in a small, humble village to the east. 

a monster, people cried, praying and pleading for someone— anyone to bring justice to their befallen family and friends, their neighbours and colleagues taken and drained of life in the night. you, well-versed and experienced with this ever repeating scenario, were finally sought out as a last ditch and oh so desperate attempt at restoring peace and safety to a once joyful town; told of a red beast who lures prey in with his charm and sinks his teeth into anything deemed beautiful.

vampires were messy hunters, whether they attempted cleanliness or not. it wasn’t an impossible job to follow a few faint traces— blood specks, pieces of fabric, etc— to a mossied, cobblestone path. the muffled clack of your boots against the rock was the only sound for miles in the silent, secluded forest. finally, your search proved somewhat fruitful upon finding a wall of thick, overgrown rose bushes.

pushing past the thorny wall— clearly designed to keep trespassers such as yourself out— revealed a sight nothing short of breathtaking; an old castle-esque manor in the centre of all the red flowers and shrubbery. 

this was where it lived, you had no doubt in your head as you kept forward.

a solution on how to breach the eerie yet beautiful building was but a fleeting thought, your fingers tightening around the hold of a dagger in your palm as the door easily opened with a mere, gentle push.

(years of hunting the wretched creatures left you hearing nearly hundreds of idiotic vampire weaknesses and immunities— the silver in your weapons and a clean shot to the heart was all you’d ever needed.)

as the aged, ornate door creaked open with the whispers of the forest's night, argenti caught the faintest sense (or rather scent) of an intruder; a fragrance and feeling that strongly pulled him to his staircase to further investigate. this smell promised beauty, he could not resist his own curiosity as his lips still glistened crimson.

“ah,” the vampire ran his fingers along the old hand railing with an almost dreamy sigh. “what curious little lamb graces my abode tonight?” he crooned, locking eyes with the figure that’d just stepped into his foyer. 

the sight of you would have taken argenti's breath away, had he had any to steal. your eyes in the moonlight, the faint glisten of your skin, the shine of your hair— you were no ordinary nor foolish trespasser— you warranted his undivided attention.

he was across the room in one swift step, tucking his now red sullied handkerchief into one of his pockets. an amused smile danced on his lips as he took in your cautious stance, the weapon ready to strike.

“you,” argenti leaned forward, lips tugging up further. “must be the hunter sent to end my nocturnal escapades.” he mused, verdant eyes locked onto your form like prey. you instinctively took a step back, keeping a safe distance that argenti was already yearning to bridge.

“keen observation.” you responded with a twinge of sarcasm that the vampire audibly giggled at.

“what are you called?” he asked, beginning to pace a slow circle around you.

“my name is unimportant.”

“it must be a crime for beauty such as yours to go unnamed or unpraised, hunter.”

the compliment didn’t go over your head, nor did the fact that this was the prettiest vampire— prettiest being, actually, that you had ever seen. however, he was still your target, regardless of the way his words made your chest warm.

“i'm afraid we won’t have time for all that, vampire.”

argenti's eyes flashed with both amusement and anticipation as you rebuffed his advances, hues of green gleaming as you twirled your dagger and made your first attack.

his supernatural reflexes sprang into action, evading your small blade with a swift sidestep and a cut to his red, velvet overcoat just above his heart. the thrill of the hunt, the game of predator and prey with the lines so delightfully blurred, coursed through him.

“such haste,” he chided, tsking softly as he caught your wrist with a firm yet gentle grip. “would you not rather savour the moment, mon chasseur?” 

argenti's focus trailed down the bridge of your nose, the curve and swell of your lips, rounded edges of your jaw, acknowledging with a faint hum the beauty of bravery etched into your features. 

“i've never been one for sentimentality,” you responded calmly, letting the weapon in your caught hand drop to the floor with an unheard clang. “you’ll have to forgive me.”

the dance continued, your now open hand shifting in his hold to grab his fingers and spin him around. even as you reached for your weapon on your other thigh, argenti laughed— a rich and sweet sound that echoed through the manor. he admired your pragmatism, even while relishing in the thrilling two-step you engaged in.

as you switched the position with a practised ease, argenti felt the air shift behind him with another stab aimed for the left of his back. a lean to the right and another turn around left your other wrist in his hold, evading you a second time.

“brava, ma chérie,” the vampire praised, his voice dripping with admiration and affection alongside challenge. he gave your wrists a firmer squeeze, a subtle yet clear reminder of the strength that lurked beneath his aristocratic facade. “but don’t be fooled,” argenti leaned dangerously forward, breath a cool whisper against your skin, fangs grazing the skin of your neck just under your ear. “i'm not so easily felled.”

the feeling of teeth so close to your nape had your foot raising and kicking him away with an almost panicked reflex, argenti stumbling back at the force.

“i've never met a vampire quite as talkative as you.” you said while adjusting the hold of your knife. your voice was laced with a clear frustration yet also something argenti recognized to be intrigue.

“perhaps you’ve never met one as enamoured with his prey as i,” he retorted, finding your irritation just as delightful as you. 

“talk is the prelude to understanding, my dear,” argenti hummed while straightening his jacket, adjusting the frills of his white sleeves underneath it. “and i find myself just dying to know you.”

it was argenti’s turn to advance for you, aiming to disarm you of that pesky silver in your palm and leave you perfectly vulnerable. though, in an act of hypocrisy, his haste left him making a predictable reach.

“i encourage you to take your own advice,” you quipped, slipping away from the swift grab with an agility honed purely from experience. the angle left you able to kick his ankle from underneath him and shove him down to his back, landing atop him with your knife pointed down at his adam's apple.

“it’s always important to keep a clear head, wouldn’t you agree?”

argenti's heart, though long stilled by death, thrummed with a refreshing and delectable kind of excitement as he found himself pinned beneath you. he could not help but fall deeper into his affections as he lay beneath the cool kiss of your blade at his throat.

“a clear head,” he echoed softly. “one mustn't let desire cloud one's judgement.” he chuckled. “but then again, where is the thrill in restraint?”

you had not yet dealt your deciding finisher, opting to stay still atop him, the only movement being the faux rise and fall of argenti’s chest. a purely reflexive motion that mocked your owns authenticity.

“tell me, hunter,” he continued, voice tinged with a playful edge. “does this proximity disquiet you? or does it intrigue?”

your response was a quick, defensive one— more abrupt than you’d hoped in an attempt to mask the very intrigue he’d so easily sniffed out.

“you flatter yourself too much.” you resisted a scoff. “perhaps i'll just cut your throat to shut you up.”

argenti's lips curled in a sickly smile. 

“you are beautiful.” he praised with a dramatic flourish in his voice. “in all my years, i have seen countless dawns and dusks– but none have displayed the beauty you have captivated me with.”

your steady hold on your weapon earnestly wavered, the moment suspending you both in a tense yet not particularly uncomfortable stare. perhaps charged was a more befitting term.

what was with this guy…?

“trying to save your own skin now?”

argenti chuckled.

“it is no charade, i assure you.” the vampire’s eyes didn’t leave yours for even a moment– the eliminated need to blink rather helpful in maintaining the contact. “your beauty is not something i would invoke so lightly.”

each word argenti spoke was a measured step, a delicate dance toward an understanding or perhaps even a truce– now it was simply a matter of waiting to see if the olive branch he extended was taken. 

“...you’re quite the odd one.” your brows lightly unfurrowed, and argenti keenly watched as you slowly began to relax. 

“what is your name?” you inquired. “so i may remember the beast who so strongly defied my expectations.”

“beast?” argenti echoed, chuckling yet again. “you wound me with such a word.”

though your inquiry, softly spoken, was an unexpected gift– a thread of curiosity argenti was all too eager to grab hold of.

“i am argenti.” he pronounced his name with a sense of pride. “and you, hunter?”

your name was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, lodging itself snuggly in his amygdala. in the momentary vulnerability of the shared moment, argenti was not only blessed with your name but the slight relaxing of your shoulders�� blade no longer so firm to his neck. with a seamless grace that centuries of existence had honed, he acted, seizing the fleeting opportunity your brief lapse provided.

in one swift, fluid motion, argenti reversed your positions with a blur of finesse. now it was you who lay beneath him, the cold silver weapon no longer his threat nor your protector as it clambered to the floor beside you. your hands pinned above your head left you unable to reach for it back.

argenti echoed your name with a dreamy sigh, savouring the syllables like a whispered incantation. “a name unique as the one who bears it.”

though you didn’t…struggle. you hadn’t even pushed against his hold the smallest bit. argenti could feel the subtle change, the gentle yielding of your guard as you remained still beneath him. it was an invitation as silent as the moonlit shadows that played across your features.

he tentatively leaned down, fangs grazing the tender skin at the junction of your neck and shoulder, a mere whisper away from puncturing the flesh that pulsed with the sweetness he craved.

your proximity was so utterly intoxicating, heady with your scent– a mix of steel resolve and something more primal, more human. yet he did not bite down.

“you are a rare gem, my dear,” he murmured against your skin, lips brushing softly against it in a kiss that belied his monstrous nature. “i find myself reluctant to mar such perfection.”

his breath caressed you as he spoke, lips tracing a path up to the shell of your ear.

“but should you allow me,” he whispered. “i would be truly endowed to taste you, hunter.”

he was much too overwhelming, each of your senses buzzed with the sound or touch or simple presence of him. you swallowed thickly in a poor attempt to maintain your composure, to at least save some face and act like your body wasn’t slowly burning up.

“you’ve…” your voice still wavered– once more, a poor attempt. “you’ve been kind.” your eyes remained fixed on the large chandelier hung above you, candles still somehow burning. 

“i suppose i wouldn't mind granting you the indulgence, argenti.”

the corners of the vampire’s mouth curved up at your quiet concession, the light tilt of your head a telling permission. your acquiescence was a gift, one he intended to honour with the reverence it deserved.

“your generosity will not go unappreciated.”

his lips returned to the tender skin of your neck, voice a soothing balm to your ear as he positioned his teeth with deliberate care. the sensation of your pulse, strong and rhythmic beneath the surface, was an alluring melody to his already heightened senses.

he allowed himself a moment of restraint, of savouring the precipice upon which you both teetered, before his fangs gently– oh so very gently– pierced your flesh.

the initial penetration was a careful caress; one that made your head swirl with its settling sting, though still tender as a lover’s tentative exploration rather than the savage bite of a beast as you’d so called him.

the taste of you was nothing less than exquisite, a rush of vitality that flooded every conscious part of him. he drank deeply, small gulps quiet in your ear, yet remained instinctually aware of the preciousness of the gift you’d bestowed him.

his free hand, the one not pinning your wrists, trailed down to cup your cheek, thumb brushing sweetly against your skin in an intimate gesture meant to comfort, to connect, to say without words that you were revered even in your vulnerability.

your heart fluttered and palpated in your chest, both with the penetrating susceptibility of argenti holding you as if you were treasured glass and the blood being slowly drained from your veins. your hands, allowed free from their position above you, moved down to carefully cradle the vampire’s head against you, the touch enough to tug at the remnants of argenti’s humanity. it was almost enough to make you forget why you were there in the first place, how you’d gotten yourself into this embrace. your purpose.

keyword, almost.

argenti’s world, meanwhile, narrowed to the euphoric connection between you as he fed, your warmth wrapping tightly around the immortal’s soul and lulling him into a serene complacency. the very serenity that would mask an impending betrayal.

he was too absorbed to feel the deadly, slow movement of your hand to your right, picking your weapon up with the stealth of a seasoned predator. then, in a hunter’s final ploy, you gripped the handle and pushed the silver up through his chest– past his flesh, his ribs, and precisely through his heart.

the sharp pain immediately tore through him, feeling the muscle that had ceased to beat for so long be so violently yet so cleanly tore through. argenti gasped against your neck, a shock of realisation and honest hurt settling in with the physical burn in his skin. the agony sent tremors through his body, a sensation so foreign and so acute it tore a ragged groan from his throat. he reeled from the visceral surprise, his feeding cut short as the born instinct of survival kicked in.

with great effort he lifted his gaze to meet yours, trying so desperately to speak– whether a scathing retort or a final compliment, anything would do. but the attempt was only a muddled whisper, stuck in his throat with his agony.

he used the last of his strength to roll off of you, but you held firm on your blade and rolled with him, pushing deeper at the newfound leverage.

though, to your begrudging admittance, it was…unsatisfactory. even as your head swirled with your own miniscule puncture wound and sudden anaemia, the lingering thrill of being entwined with such a bewitching creature in your bones, the dripping of your own blood down your skin as you succeeded in your kill–  it left you with no feeling of accomplishment or even at the very least quelled by the death of another vampire.

you felt bad. terrible, even. watching the life ebb from argenti was no longer worth the bounty or keeping of your profession or even justice for the ones he’d killed.

argenti’s heavy breaths matched your own, a final weak rasp of your name leaving his lips. his hand reached up, not with malice but with a gentle beseeching, pale fingers brushing against your cheek, smearing a trail of his blood– a final, poignant connection.

and even in death he looked so stunning to you, as did you to him– even as one of your hands remained steadfast around the silver in his heart.

your free hand covered his, helping hold it against your cheek with a slight clutch around his fingers.

“i think you’re beautiful, too.” you admitted, keeping your voice as quiet as possible so as to not cause him anymore pain or discomfort, “the most beautiful i’ve ever seen.”

the vampire’s eyes, clouded with pain, softened at your confession. the irony of your situation was not lost on him, an immortal succumbing to such a mortal wound at the hands of a creature equally captivating as they were lethal.

“you have bestowed upon me…an exquisite end,” argenti murmured, his voice a mere wisp of sound. “to be seen…truly seen by you, to behold s-such beauty in return…” his hand trembled against your skin, the strength of his once mighty grasp fading like the last glimmers of twilight. his green eyes, still holding yours with the intensity of a man both defeated and enthralled, conveyed a wealth of emotions you’d never get to hear.

“there is no greater finale.”

you held his hand tighter. you wanted him to be comfortable– against every instinct carved into your bones you did not want him to suffer more than you had made him.

“i’ll always remember you, argenti.” your voice was a cool salve to his wounded– literally wounded– heart. “i swear it.”

a ghost of a smile graced his pallid lips, your words weaving through the growing darkness around him.

“that,” argenti breathed quietly, the sound laboured and pained. “is a thought more gratifying than eternity.”

“meet me again,” you said quickly. “under better circumstances next time. you must.”

the thought of not being pitted against each other from the start, the muddied roles of prey and predator or species not interfering in your lives, was just the comfort he needed to nod and close his eyes.

“i will, then.” he felt the touch of your lips to his forehead as his body crumbled to a grey ash, a silent farewell. the moment was paradoxical, held tenderness amidst the dark reality of your short time together. too short, you thought. far too short.

soon enough you're left alone, with two palm fulls of dust in the quiet grandeur of the manor, heart heavy with the mix of feelings you had not nearly anticipated uncovering in what was supposed to be a simple job. hats off to you, for walking into the lion's den only to leave mourning its taming.

you pull the small vial of holy water from your neck, dumping the contents out to your left and refilling it with what remained of the vampire who’d so quickly etched himself into your heart. you stood slowly, mindful of your pounding head as you fastened the vial back around your neck and slowly took your leave. sitting around much longer in your unexpected grief felt too eerie, though the few scratches to your skin on your way back through the walls of thorned roses would leave a lingering reminder of how you felt in the current moment. under better circumstances, you repeated in your head for the journey home. someday distant, under better circumstances.

⠀ MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[llaberration]

Coyne's Chronicles: Shadow Over Yfiria- Chapter 29

The journey across the wall was fairly straightforward, much more so than their previous one. Despite their increase in numbers, with two dragons to fly them, and the end of the wall close enough for them to pass by, out of range of the turrets and longbows, the process went fairly smoothly. Fez tucked Coyne and Trevor safely into his crop, and Heric (somewhat hesitantly) extended the same courtesy to Belfus and his assortment of dogs. Then, with the Sea dragon carrying Bubbles, they headed out, the dark skies concealing their passage.

The lands of northern Yfiria spread out below them was picturebook to the dragon's gaze. Sprawling towns, connected only by limited trade routes, the occasional light of a bonfire or torch brightening the few populated areas. Other than that, there seemed to be an eerie quiet over the landscape, more so than the normal dead of night. The greying lands all around the hive were in utter darkness, with no sign of life or light anywhere within. For miles around that as well, Yfiria was abandoned. Shadowy clumps of long abandoned towns visible from the air, crumbling and overgrown as the land slowly reclaimed them. Here, the land felt as though it was silently waiting for something, bracing itself. Perhaps it was. With the threatening shape of the hive looming on the horizon, how could anyone think otherwise.

The dragons circled carefully around, staying well clear of both the wall and the hive, and headed down towards the forest a good, safe distance from either source of trouble. It was almost dawn by the time they arrived, the sky starting to brighten with pale hues of pink on the horizon behind the distant tips of the black mountains far to the north. Well aware that the morning light would reveal them to anyone curious enough to look upwards, the dragons swiftly circled into the treeline to the east of Indimnis and its plagued grounds, separated by the safety of a large river from the sprawling tendrils of plague. After a short examination of the area, the two dragons released their occupants into the cool of the early morning air.

As the sea dragon watched Coyne and Trevor trying to rinse slime from their robes, and the newcomer, Belfus, shake himself like a dog, Heric slid a sideways glance at Fez, “Are these truly the best dragonkin could afford to send to assist you? To do something so dangerous? Could the elders not afford you something more powerful?”

Fez grinned a toothy, glittering grin at Heric, “You should know as well as me that it is not always the grandest or most powerful assistant that is the most useful. Granted they are...” he tilted his head as he watched their newly acquired herd of dogs pile on Trevor, almost knocking him into the river, “... unconventional? But whatever it takes, as long as we get our mimic...” he pointed to Coyne, “into the hive in good time, we have won.” He stretched himself, opening one of his wings and starting to go over it with his claws, ensuring the delicate membranes were unharmed after the flight, “Besides,” he added with a casual glance, “That's not all the dragon council sent is it? They sent you.”

Heric snorted, “In a manner of speaking. Though they technically allowed me to come, rather than sending me.”

Fez gave a soft chuckle, “Of course. Of course. Jintintaska, with all his wisdom, would never have supposed you might want to assist further than he was technically telling you to.”

Heric grunted and gave Fez a thump with his tail, “I am able to determine sarcasm when I hear it whelp.”

“We are not among the council here,” chuckled Fez, “Nothing prevents me from being sarcastic to you.”

Coyne finished rinsing dragon saliva from his face with cold river water, then straightened up to stretch a little, looking around them, trying to get his bearings. He knew this side of the wall much better, but recognising it from just being dropped in a random spot was easier said than done. He could tell they were away from the coast, and not particularly far north, where the regular woodland trees gave way to populations of their tougher, needle-leaved relatives. He reckoned he could get a better idea of location once the sun had properly risen. “So, what's the plan for today?” he asked, turning to look at Fez.

“We do not risk being found as easily on this side of the wall,” said the dragon, “But we should be somewhat cautious nonetheless. Perhaps Belfus could begin sharing what he knows on the plague and the infected prior to us seeking a few out to test techniques for combatting them?”

“Jolly good thought,” nodded Belfus approvingly.

“But first, he and I need to have a chat,” said Fez, “About his part in all of this. Coyne, why don't you see to freeing Alan and Iewan, since they will both need to be present for this lesson.”

“Sure thing Fez,” agreed the mimic, curious about what Fez and Belfus would discuss, but knowing that business was their own.

“Come on then dog boy, walk with me,” said the Cave dragon, standing and starting to walk into the woods.

Belfus frowned a little, but jogged to catch up, his small horde of canine friends in swift pursuit. “That's uh... dog-man if you don't mind there Dragon.”

“Dog-man it is,” chuckled Fez as they headed off.

Coyne did as the dragon asked, releasing the two tiny men with care, and then went to sit beside the river with Trevor, who was settled quietly on the bank with his feet in the water, looking unusually at ease with the world.

Joining him a little uncertainly, Coyne settled, releasing Iewan and Alan onto his knees and smiling as the men moved to sit, taking in their surroundings. It was so quiet. Even for a forest. Both land and sky almost felt like they were bracing for something, waiting, holding their breath to see what was about to happen. Perhaps that was due to the plague, or the fact two enormous predators had recently descended.

“It smells... cleaner here,” commented Alan, still wiping slime from his long hair.

“It will. Less people on this side of the wall,” said Coyne, “It's wilder out here.” He bent forwards and scooped some river water into his hands, offering it to the two men to wash themselves with.

“I like it,” said Trevor, running a hand across the ground, “The land doesn't feel as stressed. I feel like I can connect to it more easily.” He gave a small shiver as he seemed to focus in on this, “I feel the presence of the plague... like an infected wound... but the land around it is lush... healthy.”

“I suppose the wilder it is, the better it is for druids,” asked Coyne.

“In a manner of speaking,” said Trevor, “It's all well and good being able to recharge my powers quicker but if it gets too wild and I get mauled by a bear it's not a particularly beneficial.”

“Well yes, I suppose there is such a thing as too wild. There are plenty of things worse than bears out here in the North. It is untamed, and you'd be wise to remember that before you run into a stalker crow or a tattihog.”

There was quiet between them as they all sat, taking in their surroundings, actually enjoying the peace. Heric was sloshing about in the river a short ways away, hunting for fish, the powerful current not remotely bothering his enormous form. The water almost seemed to know to flow around him gracefully as the huge creature moved about beside one of the banks, sharp eyes on the water, searching for breakfast.

When Fez returned with Belfus, the two seemed pensive, but there was no tension. Coyne could only assume that whatever they had discussed, they were both agreeable to the outcome. Fez fixed Iewan and Alan's sizes, and they all settled to a breakfast of freshly caught fish before class came into session.

Then, Belfus began to share his wealth of knowledge about how soldiers were trained to handle themselves around the infected. How to avoid becoming infected, what to expect them to do in combat, and all the ways he had been trained to counter it to keep himself and his fellow soldiers safe. A lot of the information was similar to that which they had concluded before, and Coyne's protective equipment purchased in the small town he had visited was confirmed to be of significant use. It was swiftly agreed that during their mission, they all had one main goal, which was to avoid having to get involved in combat altogether. If they could sneak their way into the hive without ever striking a blow, they would have been blessed with the best possible fortune. Their main hope was to evade. But Belfus saw mainly to teaching them what to do if the worst happened and they had no choice but to fight. That was what their morning comprised of.

How to fight the plagued was an issue of some complexity. As there was no certain way to predict exactly which species of creature each individual might be. Not only was there the obvious options of beasts and humans that had once populated the land, but monsters, and even the rumoured new, terrifying things nobody had fully identified yet. However, the soldier did his best to enforce techniques for distraction and escape rather than victory. There was no need to vanquish a foe simply for the sake of it when fleeing was by far the preferred option.

He taught them of the three main stages of infection post-turning completely, how to spot them, and how dangerous they all were.

The first, the just-turned, were by far the most dangerous. These were known as the 'mobile infected' or the 'living infected' depending on who you asked. They were lively and quick, their muscles still strong and their main senses still attuned to hunting anything of interest to them.

The second, and largely the most common as this was the stage that lasted the longest, was the 'dessication' phase. This was where they were less fleshy, and looked more like bags of starved muscle and bone. They could still be very dangerous, as they spent a lot of their time completely still, and would put on only very swift bursts of movement when prompted to attack by nearby prey, making them a living trap.

The final stage, known only as the 'wandering' stage, was less known about. Its only goal other than slowly spreading dust from a rapidly disintegrating body, seemed to be to return to the hive. They would drift aimlessly in that direction, all signs of intelligence and awareness gone. They were no longer interested in actively spreading the plague, as that kind of consciousness seemed long past them. Whether they were man, beast or monster, they would turn towards the hive and amble towards it blindly, spreading their infections dust with each step. Nobody knew what happened when they got there. But if they did not, they would eventually collapse into a heap of plague dust and fall still.

In the afternoon, they began to get a bit more practical. Belfus got the mages up and began having them practice their defensive spell trick against his dogs, instructed to bite.

He also put some time into training all of them in simple techniques for dodging and evading someone trying to grab onto them, which was, as he put it 'the fastest way to get infected. If they get a hold of you, you're not getting out of there without inhaling some dust or getting bitten.' The soldier kept on stressing the importance of keeping distance between them and the infected, because that was the only way they were avoiding infection. A few times he got caught up in what he was saying, stumbling on his words and glancing at Fez to say something along the lines of, “And you're sure that the only way to do it is to get IN the hive?” then shaking his head and tutting when it was confirmed before getting back on track.

He devoted most of the teaching to defence and knowledge about the plague, all he could remember anyway. He had never been exactly the best student of the theory side of things, but motivated by not dying, he had done his best. Now trying to pass that along accurately was a visible challenge for the soldier, but the others piped up knowledge wherever they had it which helped patch the gaps. However, it was clear from the look on the soldier's face that he had reservations about their chances. Coyne could almost see his concerns from where he sat at the back of the little group. Then again, soldiers were put through years of intense training just to hide behind their wall, no wonder Belfus was worried that a few days in the woods wasn't enough to have them walk into the centre of the plague. The big difference there though, at least to Coyne, was that the soldiers did not have magic on their side. Maybe if magic was not locked up by the college so jealously, and the soldiers could work freely with the magic users, this entire mess could have been dealt with a hundred years ago when it had all begun!

Having magic certainly didn't guarantee their success but if he hadn't taken a gamble on an injured dragon and risked embracing its magic, he'd still be scraping for coppers in the gutter and counting out his last days. Belfus' caution would serve them well in its own right, and he knew that, but it made him feel a lot better knowing they had magic as their final play.

The day passed quickly, with Belfus putting a lot of focus on the two mages and their new defensive tricks. In addition to the small shield they were working on, Alan seemed to be getting the hang of some kind of smoke burst that would definitely confuse anything looking for them directly. The mages were starting to get a handle on this concept of using their magic freely and naturally, and it was already showing.

That night, as Heric went hunting for fish in the river, Coyne took himself up one of the trees, sitting down on one of the thick branches to peer out across the landscape, frowning slightly at the rough shape looming darkly on the horizon. They had learned a lot from Belfus today but some instinct in him was saying they were going to have to deal with more complicated problems than the standard infected that the wall soldiers were well accustomed to. Something about that shape just gave him a sharp chill in his belly. Perhaps it was the monster in him that smelt another, far more dangerous monster, but he sensed their task would not be simple.

“Seems close, doesn't it?”

The mimic blinked, looking down to see Fez was standing to rest his head on the tree branch next to him.

“Yeah. Really close,”

“And you spent so long not worrying about it.”

“In fairness it wasn't my problem then. I was set to run out of time long before whatever is in there came after me.”

“I recall you saying. I also recall dispelling that little bubble of ignorance.”

“Yes. I recall that too.”

They let out a simultaneous sigh, and Coyne waited a moment before asking. “I am curious what passed between yourself and Belfus this morning. What kind of deal did you make with him?”

“Unsurprisingly, we still retain our differences. He may have gained freedom and a little more understanding, but his distrust of my kind is deeply rooted. He does not wish to be my assistant... and honestly, I do not wish to take him as one.”

“I... did kind of expect that,” said Coyne, “But that cannot be the end of it. What deal did you weave with him?”

Fez gave a sly little smile, glad the assistant was accustomed enough to his ways to know he would have made some kind of bargain. “Oh we did indeed come to an agreement. He wishes only for freedom, and general alliance in the aftermath of what happens here. He knows nothing of himself or this world, but wants to make a safe place for those mankind has wronged. Beasts mostly, and outcasts like he now finds himself. I have agreed to assist him in his goal. In exchange, he will help us... though... to be honest with you I have a feeling he would have helped us anyway,” he shot a sideways glance at the riverbank where the soldier was listening, enraptured, to Alan telling him excitedly about the other assistants at the dragon council. “He is attached to our mages. If anything, the loyalty in him has only been amplified by becoming a weredog, he will be a trustworthy ally for us.”

Coyne smiled a little bit, “I am happy to hear that. His knowledge has already been a big help. Do we know what our next step is?”

“Tomorrow he wants to do a practice run. Not into the plagued land, but to the edge of it. He wants you, the mages and Iewan to run into and successfully evade a few infected. It will give us a good understanding of how good their senses are and how much trouble we can expect from them hunting us.”

“Sounds good,” Coyne glanced down at the mages again, seeing Trevor had taken himself aside and was staring very intently at a tiny plant, which was starting to writhe and shift, growing into a twitchy mass of vines. “And look... our druid is starting to try druid things...” he subtly pointed, and Fez grinned a glittering, toothy grin. “He has a lot to learn about just where a druid's ability comes from and what their powers do... but I think he's starting to get a hand on the concept all by himself.”

The next day, they went ahead with Belfus' plan. They ventured closer to the edge of the plagued land, where the grass was duller, and the air smelt thick and sour. They did not set foot any closer than Belfus deemed it necessary, and spent several hours moving along that dangerous border. Every time they saw an infected beast or person shambling about, or more unsettlingly, standing and blindly staring into the middle distance as still as a statue, Belfus would instruct them, and they would all drop, and follow his instructions to avoid. “Their eyesight and sense of smell are negligible,” he had said, “Those aren't what you need to worry about. They will find you in one of two ways. First and most problematic is their ears, they have acute hearing, if your breathing is ragged or you step on a twig, they will hear you from up to thirty metres even through foliage, so if they're close, even a rapid heart rate can betray you. The second is your body's warmth. They gravitate towards warm things because they believe them to be living, so always look to place a barrier of ambient temperature between you and them. Mud, rocks, trees, anything.”

So, when there was one stalking around, they did exactly as they had been instructed. Stay still, stay calm, breathe slow, light breaths to ensure you did not draw attention.

This was effective overall. The only time one began to investigate them, Alan, unprompted despite the look of utter panic on his face, utilised his new spell to set off a smoke screen, not between them and the creature, but on its other side. The loud hissing sound that it made instantly drew the infected's ear, and it went instead to 'attack' the hissing smoke. They all breathed a silent sigh of relief and continued on their way, leaving the infected to bite aggressively at thin air.

As they were on their last pass, heading back towards their camping spot, and safety for the night, moving quiet and careful, there was a sudden loud rustling at the back of the group, and Iewan let out a surprised shout. As Coyne spun around to look, he saw that an infected human must have stumbled on their little group purely by accident, and had naturally targeted the person at the back. Iewan was dressed in protective equipment like the others, but was by far the least equipped for combat. That said, he wasted no time at all in following the first piece of advice Belfus had given them. “Get its face away from yours.”

The infected made a surprised sound as both of Iewan's tough, otherwordly boots slammed it right in the face and pushed it back hard. It swiftly got a grip on things though, and grappled forwards with unreal strength. Without a sense of self, the infected could use almost the entire potential of their bodies at all times in a fight, giving them far greater strength than a human with consciousness of their own limits. Butting its head between his kicking feet, the infected snapped its sharp, broken teeth furiously towards Iewan's face, fortunately for him, too fixated on his face area to think to just chomp on a leg. With a loud screech that was both angry and frightened, Gut erupted from Iewan's robes, black, translucent tentacles lashing out, bashing the creature's face and head with considerable strength.

It let out a dry sounding, hoarse howl of displeasure at this new, and pretty unconventional assault, and grabbed for one of the tentacles, biting down hard on it. This held its head still just long enough for Coyne to make his move, pulling out the sharp little blade he had been carrying all this time, and slamming it at full strength into the back of the infected's neck. Belfus had told them where to strike. Though the infected were hard to kill without hurling them onto a bonfire, you could stop them moving by severing their backbone. Easiest place to do that was the back of the neck. It was exposed and the spine was close to the surface, making it the logical place to hit.

This worked, with a horrible crunching, snapping sound, the creature went limp, jaws still working on the tentacle, and Coyne quickly moved to yank it off, staring at the battered translucent flesh, and at Iewan, who stared back at him. “Are Kheasceans... susceptible to the plague?” asked Iewan shakily, looking behind them at Belfus who was just now getting there.

“I... have no idea...” replied Belfus. “But we need to get you two to the river immediately. Do not touch your masks or faces, and let's go quickly.”

The group sacrificed some of their stealth for speed now, rushing the remaining distance through the woodland towards the distant rushing of the river. When the reached the banks, neither Coyne nor Iewan stopped to waste time, they both leapt into the water with no hesitation. No amount of unpleasantly cold water could be worse than possible infection. Coyne was at almost no risk, as his contact with the creature had been blade only, but he wasn't taking any chances. Iewan on the other hand had technically taken a bite... and the creature had been all over him. Traditionally a bite was all it took, but as far as any of them knew the infected had never had a chomp of a Kheascean before. The other three stood nervously on the bank, waiting for their friends to surface.

“I feel like we didn't do enough...” said Alan, “It was just... so fast...”

Belfus glanced at the man, seeing a staring fear in his eyes, “That's how it always happens,” he said, “You can prepare for years and years for combat but when it happens... it goes fast. Too fast.”

Alan slid down onto his knees, his blank eyes still wide and staring, “I... had no idea.”

Coyne surfaced from the water with a gasp, and Belfus took a step to help him, then paused, looked back at Alan, and gave Trevor a shove towards him. “Keep an eye on him,” he said, knowing not to leave someone unwatched who was experiencing such a shock.

Then he sloshed into the river, grabbing Coyne and helping him out of the water, knowing he'd been under long enough that the dust would have dissolved. “Where's Iewan?” he asked.

Coyne, still spluttering as he flopped on the bank, gestured at a spot in the water, and Belfus waded over, reaching down and grasping Iewan's soaked robes to heave him from the water, coughing. The man, disorientated and in a half panic, grasped at the soldier's arm, but didn't fight back as Belfus half-carried him to the shore and set him down beside Coyne. “Did it break the skin when it bit?” he asked, trying to check Iewan's arms and legs as he actually had no idea what had actually happened, he was pretty sure he had seen... tentacles? But... honestly it had been chaotic, he didn't know for sure.

Iewan managed to catch his breath, pulling his hands back to himself, “Wait... wait... I can't check... I need space...” he gently pushed at Belfus, who took the hint and backed up.

Coyne, straightening up from re-washing his dagger again, finally stopped to draw a slow breath, he looked at Belfus, “Are... we okay?”

Belfus glanced at Iewan, then over at Alan, who was still just staring at the river. “Uh...”

Trevor was half-kneeling awkwardly beside the mage, patting his shoulder, visibly out of his depth at the mere thought of knowing what to do or say at that moment.

Belfus gave him an expectant look, then mimed a hugging motion with his arms, watching as Trevor awkwardly did as he was told, putting his arms almost mechanically around Alan, who fell against him, unresisting, but still staring.

Iewan finally managed to convince Gut to come out of hiding, and raised the tentacle to examine it. The teeth had definitely pierced the translucent flesh in an ugly, jagged semicircle, and the Kheascean made bubbling squeals of displeasure as Iewan tried to examine it.

Coyne shuffled over to see, his brow furrowed deeply as he saw the deep, obvious bite. They both knew that a bite from the infected was the most certain way to get it yourself. He bit his lip, and the two men just looked quietly at Gut for a moment. They were about to find out whether Kheasceans were prone to the plague.

Belfus leaned closer to them, “I thought I saw tentacles...” he said, frowning.

“Iewan has a Kheascean, long story,” said Coyne, “How long to symptoms take to appear?”

“It's normally fairly fast. The yellow eye stage within the hour... dry throat can be almost immediate but isn't telling of infection, anything can cause that...”

“So when will we know?” asked the mimic.

“It won't be long,” said Belfus, “We will know fast...”

“If it starts...” said Iewan, “I don't want you to let it take me. I want you to...”

Coyne cut him off, “Shhhh, if it tries. If it does. We'll deal with it. But it might not. You might be fine. Gut is from a species designed to be made up of dead, or mostly dead things. That's not a species that's prone to disease if you ask me.”

An awkward silence fell among them, and for a short time, there was only the persistent rushing of the water, until Belfus managed to gather himself to speak. “Okay so... that was actually pretty standard for the infected.”

Four accusing pairs of eyes shot to him, and he held up his hands, “I know. That was a LOT. I get that, but...” he drew a slow breath, “This is what combat is. It's not pretty. It's not heroic. It's ugly and fast and... it's dirty. Books and stories romanticise it but fighting, actual face to face fighting... is horrible. I tried to warn you, but there was no real way for me to do that with words. And as much as I hate to say it, you needed to see this. Better now, while you have time to process it, than later,” he paused to kneel down beside Alan, “when you don't have that luxury.”

Coyne drew slow breaths at this, feeling a surge of anger towards Belfus, because he hadn't prepared them better for this, because it almost seemed like he had allowed it to happen... but... he fought it down, tempering his anger with reason. The soldier had not allowed it to happen. It had happened by itself, and they had learned a lot from it. In the worst way possible. But the soldier was right. Better now than in the shadow of the hive with goodness knew what around them. He took another slow breath and reached out a hand towards Iewan, “Can I see it? The tentacle?”

Iewan, a little hesitantly, teased the injured limb away from where Gut was hiding it in his robes, and let Coyne see it.

The mimic held the thing up to examine it, seeing a faint cloudiness in the transparent flesh around the bite, but it wasn't spreading at all. If anything, it seemed to be solidifying into a more solid shape. “Iewan look...” he said, pointing.

“What the...” the man leaned in and looked for himself.

“Is that normal?”

“I... don't know? He's hurt himself before, but the cuts always seal up swiftly and just disappear,” he gently examined the area, ignoring it as Gut let out an annoyed little squeak and bit at his elbow in retaliation.

Before their eyes, the clouded flesh continued to harden, visibly changing texture from the smooth, healthy matter around it. Then, it began to separate at the edges, splitting away from the rest of the tentacle, and falling free onto the sandy shore. Beneath it remained an open cut but of healthy, clean flesh.

“It's... rejecting the invasive matter...” said Iewan with a gasp, “I've never seen an immune reaction quite like it! It's not fighting it the way a human body does, it's actively holding, containing and rejecting it as though it's foreign matter!”

“I have... no idea what you're saying but... is it good?” asked Coyne.

“It's better than good... it means seahorrors are immune to the plague!” he exclaimed. “One of Heric's biggest concerns was that the plague would infect a seahorror and start spreading among the ocean life... because if it did, there would be nothing in the ocean that could stop it, it would go from one continent to the next, infecting everything. If seahorrors are not prone to it, even if it spreads into the ocean creatures, they can still predate them normally and keep it under control.”

“So... good then?”

“Yes, very good!”

“And you're not going to get infected?”

“No. Though the bite was on Gut, our immune systems are combined. So apparently we're going to be okay!”

Coyne let out a relieved sigh and kicked the rejected matter into the river, “Okay... good, that's one disaster averted.” He said with a soft sigh, standing up and going to check on the mages.

Alan had already pulled himself together a bit, recovering from the initial shock, still a bit wide-eyed and pale, but more himself, and Coyne moved to help him stand, “Come on, let's go and find the campsite.”

Trevor got up too, and gently began to lead Alan along as Iewan gathered up the still bitterly complaining Gut and tucked him into his robe as he began walking.

Coyne held back a little, waiting for Belfus, then glancing at the man as he started to walk, “Did... you know Alan was going to react like that?”

The solider set his jaw, “I... suspected it.”

“Will it happen again?”

“Probably. He's not hardened like Trevor. He's been kept soft and protected by those around him, even at the college, he has faced hardship, but contextually nothing like this.”

“He was so cool under pressure when things went wrong at the council though...”

“Was anyone attacking him?”

“No... no they weren't.”

“There you go then. He's good under pressure, but not designed for a fight. Now you see more than ever that you cannot lead these boys into a battle.”

“I promise, I have no intention of leading them into a battle. We only need to do one thing. Get me into the hive unseen. They do not need to be there for anything more than that. That's why we want to go stealthy, ideally we can avoid combat altogether.”

“It's going to be tough,” said Belfus, “Are you sure, whatever your plan is, that you can pull it off?”

“I have faith in the final result,” said Coyne evasively, not certain how much Belfus knew. “But it all relies on us getting there.”

“Well, be careful not to focus too hard on your final goal, or you might be willing to make too many sacrifices to get there. I don't want to see you get those two killed because you were rushing to the finish line.”

Coyne managed a smile, “Belfus, I think you misunderstand me. I have been minding those two for a relatively short time but I've already grown quite attached to them. I do not intend for anyone to get hurt. I'm relying on Heric and Fez to get them out safely.”

“Are you willing to promise me that you won't take risks with their lives?”

“I can promise you that. However, I cannot promise their safety. This is war Belfus. You and I know that there are risks we can't account for. I will protect them for all I can, but people die in war.”

The soldier spared him a cold stare, as though judging his statement. “You are strange to me. You are both warm and cold. I have never met someone like that.”

Coyne stared back, considering this. “I am both a man and a monster. Perhaps that is where the conflict occurs. I make no apologies for that. You too, are both a man and a monster now. You're going to have to stop thinking in absolutes. We are not afforded that luxury.”

Belfus let out a little sigh, letting his shoulders slump, “You are not wrong. I still have the mindset of a soldier. But... I'm working to change it.”

They returned to their camping spot, where Heric proceeded to fuss over Iewan when he was told about his experience, expressing that even though they now knew he was immune, they had not known before, and greater care should have been taken. He then proceeded to puppy guard the man for the remainder of the night as they campfire roasted some fish, and then settled in for sleep.

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Only one chapter behind! So close to being caught up!

[rimouskis]

Hey! So there is a slight chance I could end up In Pittsburgh next year. As a resident, do you like living there? What are some of its selling points? (Some context: I’ve lived in or near every single big city on the northeast coast, from DC to Boston, so I’m used to cities. I’ve heard great things about living in Pittsburgh, so I’m curious about your perspective!)

oh hey! very cool, potential welcome to you, and I heartily recommend the city.

but: if you've lived in every big city in the east, pittsburgh is going to.... uh, not be like that! at all, haha. if you're looking for city living, I don't think you're going to find that in its purest form here.

my context is that I've actually not traveled the east very much; I've only been to DC and NYC. Neither feels remotely like PGH. actually-big cities like NYC, Chicago... probably Boston, though I've never been... they're cities, you know? they feel like it. they've got concrete jungle energy.

pittsburgh very much does not. pittsburgh, frankly, doesn't feel like a city to me, even though it has all the amenities of a city—we've got theaters and concerts and summers here are a total blast. pittsburgh feels like an oversized town in a lot of ways.

part of that is the geography and what it's done to the city as it has developed. the neighborhoods here are often really broken up by the topography. the hills and forested parts of the city still feel a little wild. some neighborhoods feel like they shouldn't be habitable at all because of how steep they are, lol (the very existence of rialto street feels Wrong to me). panther hollow being smack dab in the city speaks to that: we have a fucking ravine in the middle of this place!! I've seen so much wildlife here that I just haven't in other "urban" areas.

the other, bigger part of pittsburgh not feeling like a big city is the populace. you have a LOT of lifers here. did you know pittsburgh has the oldest population of any metro area in the USA? people are born here and they die here, haha. I know some of the local young people really don't like it (like, imagine all the people from your high school went to your college and then stayed in the same city after they graduated), but I find it to be really novel.

one of my old coworkers was born on the south side slopes and then moved to mt. washington as an adult. she's just never left the city, and that means I can literally play seven-degrees-of-[her name] with her because if I mention, like, anyone with roots in the city, it feels like there's an 80% chance she's going to know them or one of their relatives 😅 that's so fun to me! you can carve out individual pockets everywhere, and don't get me wrong, I don't have that kind of connectivity, but it's something that's possible here that doesn't feel possible in other cities and it gives it a very particular.... flavor.

that's part of the unique culture around pittsburgh that I'm very fond of. it was (is) a really good city to be a young person in, because it's big enough where there's stuff to do, buuuuut it's small enough that you won't feel eaten alive like you might in NYC. and while there are sooo many locals who are still local, there's a decent amount of transplants like myself too, so it's not like you'll be an outsider or anything.

I've also found really good people here. I like pittsburghers. they're pretty salt-of-the-earth (.... coal-of-the-earth? too soon?) and the culture is, like, very palatable to my midwestern sensibilities. if you're an east coaster you might find people a little too chatty or personable, but I'm used to it haha.

as for the living experience, I think it's pretty fabulous. winters get a bit grim (it's so GRAY here and people drive like MANIACS) but fall is very nice and summers in pittsburgh are just unparalleled. perfect weather—not too hot but not cold—and so so much to do. there's a ton of culture that happens, we love street festivals and art markets and night markets and each neighborhood does their own little twist on stuff. it's my favorite time of year, and there's also plenty of nature nearby. falling water is close by and I love it, and ohiopyle state park has good hiking. the cost of living can't be beat, too. I pay less in rent than both my siblings who live in another state, and I have a bigger living space. I was able to live really comfortably here when I made very little money. it's a great amount of flexibility, and you're not too far away from bigger cities if you want; the drive to DC is like 4 hours.

and, finally: if you're a pens fan, well. this IS the place to be! getting easier access to games has been such a blast. it's a fun life to live.

I will also say there are downsides. I'm from a blue state and I was honestly not ready for how red/conservative this area gets when you leave the bounds of pittsburgh proper. like, it goes pretty red pretty fast. that makes me uncomfortable, honestly, but that's the cost of living here. there was also a report put out a few years back that showed white residents in the city had "average or above-average standards of livability", but for black men it was "less livable" and for black women it was even LESS livable. there's some pretty serious segregation in terms of neighborhoods and the city is, on the whole, incredibly white. it isn't a very diverse place, which is of course a huge negative, and the city hasn't done the best job in making itself more livable for its black population. I think that's worth mentioning, especially if you're a person of color. pennslyvania is... well, this part of pennsylvania is very much part of the rust belt, and that shows in charming ways (old infrastructure and buildings) and horrible ways (systemic racism).

in sum: pittsburgh has been really, really great for me. I've met some wonderful people here, I've learned how to be an adult here, and I've really built a comfortable life here. that's involved a fair bit of privilege, though, so when I say I love pittsburgh, I'm aware that comes with asterisks.

if you have more questions, please reach out! you're actually not the first person who's considering a move to pittsburgh, and I really enjoy being an ambassador to the city :)

[whitepolaris]

Orange Ghost Ball

April in northern Wisconsin when the snow gods finally, reluctantly, and slowly retreat from the frozen marshes and piney woods. It's when hardy northerners like to get out, take a walk, and remain themselves what it's like not to have to trudge ten-foot snowdrifts just to get to the mailbox.

It was early April in 1938 when farm led Alven Marcott, enjoying the clean spring air, strolled home past the old Forest Home Cemetery just east of tiny Finfield, on Old Highway 70. As he passed the cemetery grounds studded with tall pines, he was startled to see what looked like an orange ball of fire about two feet in diameter descend from the trees and hover a few feet off the ground. To his amazement, the ball then traveled down a lane to a nearby farm, circled the barn, and returned to the cemetery, where it disappeared. Of course, no one believed the startled Alven-until his father, Arthur, saw it, too.

One night a few months later, Alven and a friend named Peter Jeneyick were driving past the cemetery when the orange ball rolled across the road forty feet in front of them. Alven's uncle Leonard was the next to catch sight of the mysterious globe. Word soon got out.

Soon the cemetery became the secret nighttime destination of most of the town's high school students, as teenagers heady with spring fever rendezvoused to try own luck at spotting the light. A local newspaper reported on April 14, 1938, that Ida Koshak, Sally Bennett, and Camilla LaVoie saw the orange ball at nine p.m. as they waited by the front gate of the cemetery. The girls told a local reporter that the ball was about as big as a billiard ball and that it floated to within five feet of them, "rolling all around."

The girls ran back to the village in fright, but eventually they wound up returning to the cemetery many times. Ida Koshak, now in her eighties, recalled the incidents clearly in a recent phone conversation: "I was sixteen. We seen it more than once, maybe three, four times. We'd walk up there on the hill. It went right in the middle of the main road of the cemetery; it kind of danced around, went up, down, up, down. We looked forward to sneaking away and doing that. There were other kids that said they seen it, too, maybe a dozen."

Eventually that summer of 1938 the light stopped appearing. Koshak said the nonbelievers in the village charged that someone was sitting in one of the trees with a flashlight, but that wouldn't explain how the light could be seen rolling across the road or flying around a barn. It also seems unlikely that, with so many groups of teens, not to mention curious out-of-towners roaming around the cemetery, anyone could have sat in one of the pine trees for so many nights without being seen or caught. Among the theories offered by the town scoffers to explain the orange light were that it was Saint Elmo's fire or luminous natural gas. But Ida Koshak knows what she saw, and sixty-six years later, she's sticking to her story.

[geocait0815]

The Heist - Part 12

This is a fanfiction game which starts here.

You can find the previous chapters here: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

Or you can refer to the dedicated hashtag #duskwood the heist

As we move towards the living room, the source of the commotion becomes obvious: The chair we had tied Tim to is toppled over and broken. Pieces of duct tape litter the floor towards the back entrance like breadcrumbs.

“Fuck...” I say while Jake turns around to face me. “We have to get out of here, immediately!”

I nod. “Can you grab a few provisions while I pack a change of clothes?“ Judging from the look on his face, Jake is about to argue that there is time to pack anything. “It'll be just a minute. There is durable food and bottled water in the pantry. And some camping gear that might be useful. Have a look.” I gesture towards a door in the corner of my kitchen.

Then I rush into my bedroom. Years of last minute business trips have prepared me for this moment. Within a few minutes I have everything I need in a duffle including a bag with all bathroom necesities, that I always have ready to go. Before I leave the room I stuff my laptop and tablet, both currently turned off, into the duffle, as well as a few items from my nightstand and the trusty first-aid kit.

Getting back to the living room I notice that Jake is still rummaging through the panrty, stuffing things into one of my old backpacks. I use the time to take out my phone and shoot a text to my work bestie Debbie. No words, just three emojis: Two trees and a bomb. Questionmark. The response follows just seconds later. Thumbs up.

Debbies husband, now ex, had the bad habit of being overly curious about her private conversations and a bad temper over their contents. So we developed our own little code over the years. I had just asked her to borrow her vacation home, a remote cottage about an hour away in the woods.

Jake comes over, carrying the backpack. “What is going on?” While grabbing my keys and locking the back door again, I say: “I know where we can go. Not quite as good as our remote island but at least it also has wifi.”

We leave the house through the front door. Jake walks out first, carefully observing the surroundings. I point towards my car and we swiftly cross the lawn towards it. We get in, me behind the wheel and Jake on the passengers seat.

A few minutes of silent driving go by. We are both tense and constantly check the traffic behind us if there is anyone following us. But as we reach the highway, we both relax a little.

We should probably talk about our situation and make a plan. But we are also both exhausted and I need to concentrate on my driving. I can sense that Jake tries hard to not doze off. I move my hand from the gear shift to his knee, which makes him flinch. But he immediately settles back into his seat. “Hey, try to close your eyes for a while. I've got this. We'll arrive in about an hour.”

“I'd prefer to know where we're going”, he responds. Rolling my eyes, I say: “I'll draw you a map.”

Despite his efforts, he is out within five minutes.

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

The last few hundreds of meters to the house take us over a forest path. It is a rough ride and rattles Jake awake. “Good morning, sunshine”, I chirp. “Sorry about that.” I park the car around the small wooden house so it won't be immediately visible if someone happens to pass by.

We get out of the car and Jake grabs our bags. “So, where are we?”, he asks. “This is my friends week-end getaway, “ I explain. “The next town is about 20 minutes that way” I gesture towards what I think is East. “There is not much to show here. We came via the only access road. Around the back of the house there is a path that leads to the lake. There are a few boats. No motors.” I lead the way towards the door. “There is no key but a number pad.” I show him the code and we enter. The cottage is clearly not bigger on the inside. There is just one room. The main space is occupied by a cozy living room with fireplace and an open kitchen. The only other door leads to a tiny but fully equipped bathroom. A ladder leads to a platform with a bed just under the roof.

I kick off my shoes and collapse onto the couch. Jake immediately joins me. “We need to talk strategy,” he states. I nod and shift my weight to lean against his shoulder.

A thought crosses my mind: “How did they get to us this quick? Do you think they have an informant in the FBI?” I look up and meet his gaze. There is an expression in his eyes I can't quite read. “Good thought”, he sighs. “This is definitively a possibility that also crossed my mind.”

“I find the entire behaviour of these ... 'Agents' ” - I put the last word in air quotes - “really strange. First they recruit us to do their dirty work. Then, no follow up, no detailed information. And don't get me started on what happened to your eye last night...” He looks away. Okay, still no elaboration, I think.

After a moment of silence, Jake speaks up again. “Let's discuss what we know so far.” I nod, and smile. This feels familiar. “Yep. I'll make us some coffee in the meantime.” While I get up and grab some capsules that fit into the fancy coffee maker, Jake starts to summarize: “We are tasked to retrieve evidence from the private residence of Master.”

“One question”; I interrupt. “What's up with this Master business?” “Oh, well. This is an old habit, I think”, Jake responds. He seems a bit flustered. “Master is Marks screen name.” “I see. Go on.”

“The nature or exact location of said evidence is unknown to us so far.” “I guess we will know it when we see it.” I place two cups of coffee on the table in fron of the couch and reclaim my spot beside Jake.

“I remember Agent Michaels saying that we need to infiltrate the 'residence'.” More airquotes. “This sounded to me like we are not looking for any digital files. What do you think, Jake?” “Maybe the data is on an air-gapped system, which would mean...” “...that we likely won't be able to get to it by hacking it from the outside”, I finish his sentence. This time I can read the expression in his eyes like an open book: Surprise mixed with pride. I flash him a grin and a wink over my coffee mug.

“So. What now?”, I ask.

------------------------------

@renneiscent you're up!

Also, I noticed that we are having a wild mix of writing in present and past tense. I took the liberty of returning to writing in the present :D

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[inay-art]

Characters recap/introductions while I am thinking about it!

First picture: Ashanaya, Iacopo and Liassa (with Sarian in the background for height reference). A family of city elves from Antiva City. Ashanaya is originally from Treviso, and had a romance with a Rivaini sailor who met an untimely end. Her marriage with Iacopo (while she was pregnant from said romance) was arranged but is an happy one for the most part. She’s a seamstress and he works in the forests around the city, mostly with bees. Liassa is a joyful, curious child. Second picture: Eufrasia Marposa, Cosme Vibora, and Sabol Marposa. Eufrasia is the oldest Seer, and leader, of a small town on the east of Rivain, and Cosme is the captain of a Raider ship associated with that town. Their marriage did not survive the death of their son, Sabol, when they both hurt too much with their grief. Years passed, and while no longer a couple, their relationship is back to friendship and partnership. Sabol was, by all accounts, a good man. Who knows what would have happened and what he would have become if he hadn’t died in a storm at such a young age? The hole left by his absence is what starts the story for many of them, from the lover he left behind to the son he never knew, and to the parents left distraught.

Third picture: Giuvanna “Guppy” Cantori. A child of Antiva city’s Alienage, childhood best friend with Sarian. Sadly noticed and taken by the Crows to become one- though... Not originally in the Cantori house. Not much known, yet.

Second row- First: Cosme again! Showing off his tattoo.

Second: Some of Cosme’s crew. Cook is a Tal-Vashoth and a pacifist. Originally a soldier, after going through Seheron he did not want to do this anymore and left. A complicated escape, but eventually, Cosme offered him a place onboard as the cook.

Muriella doesn’t have much backstory yet.

Brogor is the first mate of the ship and surprisingly, not a surface dwarf. His brother (Mindal, the ship surgeon) and he left Orzammar in circumstances they do not talk easily about, and eventually ended up on Cosme’s ship. They have been there for close to twenty years now, and do not seem to regret it too much.

Australe was, once, a city elf of Ferelden. She hided her magic as long as she could, and escaped when people tried to brought her to the Circle, all the way up to Rivain eventually, and once again to Cosme’s ship.

Third: Captain Adamar and her son. Also pirates of the Armada, she’s a close allied to Cosme and they have helped each others on several occasions- most notably in the last years, when Cristobal started manifesting magic and she urgently needed someone to teach him. (He went for almost a year with Australe, to learn.) 

It is not clear on the sketch but Cristobal is missing a few fingers of his right hand. A spell turned badly before he learned.

Third row-

Captain Larrecin de Fliberouste and Dame Renard.

They’re orlesians. They’re assoles. They have two redeeming qualities: they care for each others (platonic life partners) and they hate Orlesian Chevaliers too. That’s it, no redeeming besides that. They’ll be awful to anyone but they can be thrown at an enemy to be awful to the enemy as well.

[wickedsrest-rp-archive]

Welcome to this week’s roundup! We do these every week to provide plot drops, highlight starters posted that week, and share other information about the setting. Anyone is welcome to use these bullet points in starters, plots, anons etc. Also let us know if you want us to include one of your setting-related plots in here for next week by sending us a bullet point!

What’s new in town?:

Deep in the forest where the Tree of Consequences once stood, there is now a tear directly into the astral plane. Check out our new POTW to see the hijinks this is causing around White Crest. 

Everyone’s favorite inventor Maurice Templeton has sold his newest arcade to Quarter. As a lover of urban legends, Maurice opted to call this game Polybius. Funny thing is, those who play may find they can’t stop playing and that the machine seems to be pulling from their thoughts. 

Homes in the East End neighborhood have been experiencing an influx of zyldzens with the current tear in the astral plane. These household fae could simply not resist the temptation of flocking to the display of wealth in this neighborhood. 

A good portion of the forest currently smells like a French bakery due the energy from the astral plane seemingly feed The Sauce. Those who breathe in too much of the scent may find they can no longer speak. Unrelatedly, there’s a large number of mimes surrounding the area that seem to get particularly angry if any loud noises disturb them. 

Starters: 

The tear in the astral plane has Ariana seeing three moons outside her home and she has some pertinent questions.

Tepin’s stand might have moved. Possibly. She didn’t move it but watch out for the watermelons on the way there.

Bex wants to know if anyone else feels something weird going on.

Metzli’s sense of smell is of and is curious if they’re alone or not.

Teagan saw herself walking around. But not in a mirror. Only in White Crest, right? 

Anastasia P4NDOR4 is thinking she’s spent too much time on the computer lately because she also saw herself across the way the other day.

[iolitemoth]

Moth’s FanClan Rehaul

I know I haven’t mentioned anything like this on this site ever but you know what? It’s here now so let’s do this

This is probably going to be broken up into different posts so it’s not a giant of a post that you have to scroll through for 10 minutes just to read it all. That being said, I’m gonna put it under a readmore just in case.

Part One: Clan Names + Locations

Looking back, some of these clan names make zero sense. Also, I had a tribe? That I did absolutely nothing with? With a name that makes no sense. So that got redone too.

Original Names: EarthClan, NatureClan, WildClan, Tribe of All Nature

New Names: EarthClan (this is a classic, come on), StreamClan, WildClan (I actually really like this one), OrchardClan

The Clans, similar to canon, live around a large lake in different territories. EarthClan lives in a forested area north of the lake with their camp surrounded by great thick hedges. StreamClan lives closer to the nearby ocean to the east, their camp located by a large stream that flows from the lake to the sea. WildClan lives west of the lake in a slightly sparser forest that gives way to grassland. Their camp is a hidden hollow. OrchardClan lives south in an old orchard, closer to the mountains, with their camp in the thickest part of it. (I was thinking that there may be some ruins of old human buildings that they settled in but I’m not sure)

Part Two: Gatherings

Gatherings take place on an island, much like canon, but since the lake is so big, several bridges and smaller islands are used to reach it. EarthClan and WildClan are the closest and have an easier time getting there than the other two.

Fun Fact! A human town/city can be found just 30 miles northwest of EarthClan/the lake.

(also, quick question, does anyone know why so many people name their fanclans EarthClan? how is that such a popular choice? im genuinely curious)

[cheshiresense]

Oh, can I ask for Ichigo in a Witcher AU (if you've watched the show ? Medieval Fantasy Generic AU if you haven't...)

I’m afraid the only thing I know about the Witcher is that the main character is this really strong antisocial grumpy dude that nobody likes, who goes around killing monsters for money, and one day he saves a guy who becomes like his PR manager/best friend or something. That’s it. So I’ll have to go with a generic medieval fantasy AU instead.

1. Ichigo is a mercenary, a monster-killer-for-hire (which is the only bit of the Witcher I can incorporate lmao). But yeah, he’s a mercenary, trained by his family, who have been hermits in like the Forest of Menos or something since before Ichigo was born because the Kingdom of Seireitei exiled them ages ago for dabbling in dangerous magic. Oh, normal magic is fine, the healing chants that their clerics learn, the potions and elixirs that their druids make, the purifying prayers their priests all know to defend the kingdom from ghosts and demons.

But the Shibas had always been a little too curious for their own good, more interested in pushing the boundaries of magic than being afraid of it, and even before their exile, they’d been fairly well-known for their summoning magic, which already made them powerful, one of the biggest noble families of the kingdom with a specialized branch of magic passed down through their line. But then they discovered elemental magic, and even worse, they refused to hand over their research and knowledge to concerned parties who would’ve been able to monitor its usage more responsibly. That was the last straw, as far as the church and the other nobility and the government were concerned. Some wanted that magic for themselves, others wanted to erase all traces of it. Most of the Shibas were hunted down and killed, the rest scattered, and summoning magic was banned in their wake. Elemental magic left with them, not a single page of notes left behind in their wake, a final fuck-you to the kingdom they’d once served so faithfully.

Decades down the road, the Shiba name is barely remembered and never spoken of. Ichigo’s left home after deciding the hermit life really wasn’t for him and he’d like to see more of the world. He knows his history, knows to stay out of Seireitei, so he makes his living by wandering the lands around his ancestral kingdom. Mercenaries like him can find work so long as there are monsters, and there are monsters everywhere, and Ichigo is good at his job, especially with his family’s magics at his disposal. There was a reason Seireitei drove the Shibas to death and ruin the same way they annihilated the Quincy kingdom in the east, too scared of the exorcist warriors they trained to tolerate their existence. Fear has always been a powerful motivator.

2. Meanwhile, back in Seireitei, a huge fuss is kicked up when one of the Kuchikis’ youngest up and coming officers ends up freezing the entire sparring yard one day at the Academy after snapping under the stress of constant bullying for coming from lowborn roots. She collapses immediately after, but there’s no taking back all the frozen trees and grass and buildings in the vicinity. Incorporating ice magic into her blade definitely counts as elemental magic, one thing leads to another, and by the time she wakes up, she’s been locked up in a cell somewhere because half the kingdom wants to know how she did it so they can do it too while the other half wants her dead. Everyone agrees that they can’t risk her falling into the wrong hands or under the wrong influence. Weeks later, when her execution seems imminent, her brother-in-law and head of house manages to sneak her out of the prison and back to the Kuchiki estate, where he then practically throws her at a portal gate already open and waiting for her.

“You cannot remain here,” Byakuya tells her, cold and aloof like he doesn’t care at all, but the grip he has on her shoulders is almost bruising. “Seireitei is not kind to those who are too different.” He shoves a bag into her arms. “This is all I can do for you. This portal will take you to the outer edge of Rukongai. Do not use ice magic. Do not come back. If you are found within Seireitei after tonight, I will not save you again. Do you understand?”

Rukia wants to cry and rage and beg Byakuya to make this all go away, she’s actually still not entirely sure what she did wrong, accidental magical outbursts don’t happen every day but they’re pretty common in students just beginning their magical studies. What did it matter if she froze a few things? She didn’t even hurt anyone! Was ice magic really so terrible? She’d never even heard of anyone using it before.

But she also promised herself that she wouldn’t do anything to dishonour the Kuchiki name after Byakuya was kind enough to continue looking after her just because he’d loved her sister.

So she swallows down her protests and takes the supplies, and they both pretend she doesn’t have tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes.

“Will I see you again?” She can’t help asking.

Byakuya’s face looks carved from stone. “I sincerely hope not.” And then he pushes her through the gate.

Rukia staggers out somewhere on the outskirts of Rukongai, the surrounding expanse of land that lies between Seireitei and the other kingdoms. The portal snaps shut behind her, and then she really is well and truly alone. It isn’t as if she’s never been in Rukongai before, she and her sister were born here after all, but she’d never been here, so far out, so much closer to the rest of the world than Seireitei.

So she does what she’s wanted to do for weeks but wouldn’t let herself when there were guards watching - she spends the next ten minutes or so huddled on the ground sobbing her eyes out, because now she has no family, no home, and no idea where to go from here. She’s no stranger to survival - at the very least, she knows how to barter and trade, look out for pickpockets and navigate towns without standing out too badly, which is actually more than she can say for a lot of highborn kids, but she’s also completely alone, and she wasn’t even out of the Academy yet. If she stumbles on monsters, which is more likely the farther away she is from Seireitei, she’s probably going to end up very dead.

Eventually, she stops, scrubs her face clean, and digs through her pack to see what Byakuya had given her. Money, clothes, a bit of food and water under preservation spells, a map of Rukongai, a couple daggers, and some healing salve and bandages. It’s better than she expected, less than she hoped for, but anything less than a magic wand to turn back time is less than she hoped for.

In the end, all she can do is shoulder her pack and begin trudging her way towards the nearest town. Whining about the unfairness of it all isn’t going to help her, and night will fall soon. The last thing she wants is to be caught out in the middle of nowhere when the sun goes down.

3. Of course, it’s just Rukia’s luck when two weeks later, trouble runs into her. One moment, she’s counting coins in the room of another inn (she’s already running low, with no real job prospects in sight), the next, there’s shouting and screaming from outside, and in the distance, a lone wolf’s howl splits the night.

In the room next to hers, Ichigo’s eyes snap open. Oh good, his meal ticket has arrived.

By the time Rukia’s good sense is overridden by the desire to figure out what is going on, someone - from the room beside hers - has already leapt out the window, more shouting and screaming and running footsteps have stampeded through the streets below, angry snarls has followed, and Rukia bursts outside with a dagger clutched tight in her hand just in time to see a cloaked figure whirl around the fangs and claws of a beast, a werewolf, a blade of silver in his hand, and Rukia barely even sees the rise and fall of it before the werewolf has lost both arms. It barely has time to howl in agony as it collapses to the ground, and then orange light sparks at the stranger’s fingertips, and a moment later, the werewolf has burst into flames.

Rukia gawks like an idiot because she’s definitely never seen a spell like that before, and more than that, the stranger made the whole fight look easy. Against a werewolf.

The street is silent once the werewolf dies. No one else is around, and the stranger simply straightens and turns. It takes her a few seconds to realize he’s leaving.

It takes her less than that to run after him.

If this man knows fire magic, surely he would know something about ice magic too? But, more than that, he is strong. If she can be half as strong as him, then maybe, maybe, even if she can never go home again, she might at least be able to make something of herself.

4. Ichigo would like it to be known that he had not agreed to this. But this stupid, ridiculously weak girl won’t stop following him around, and the one time he’d shaken her and left her behind in between towns, his conscience had forced him to double-back when he’d heard from someone in the next town that there’d been a pack of wargs roaming the surrounding hills. Of course, because either his luck was shit or the girl’s luck was shit, he’d arrived just in time to prevent her death-by-warg.

She really was useless with those daggers.

“So teach me how to be better then!” The girl demands, a humiliated flush high in her cheeks but a stubborn tilt to her chin. She looks scruffy and tired, and Ichigo has no idea what she’s doing on her own because it’s pretty fucking clear she’s not used to nomadic life. But she seems to want to get stronger, and everybody has to start somewhere, so Ichigo supposes he can’t begrudge her ambitions, whatever they might be.

Still, “I don’t do anything for free,” Ichigo tells her, even though that’s not strictly true considering he’s already saved her life for free.

The girl glares at him because they both know full well she barely has enough money for meals and a roof over her head these days, but then she offers, “Teach me, and once I get strong enough, I’ll become a mercenary too. Then, I’ll give you a portion of my pay for however long it takes me to clear my debt.”

Ichigo stares dubiously at her, at her dirty but expensive clothes, at her daggers that would probably cost Ichigo half a year’s worth of bounties, at delicate hands unused to the wilderness. But he also takes in the way she crosses her arms and scowls back with a desperate sort of defiance and steel in her spine, and in the end, he heaves a sigh.

“You better keep your word,” He warns her. “Or I’ll take your head myself.”

The girl brightens. Ichigo already regrets everything.

But from that point on, he gains a travelling companion/pseudo-apprentice. Her name is Rukia - no last name - but it becomes pretty clear why when he starts her magic studies by telling her to show him what she already knows. It’s all basic stuff, and she’s not even that good at it, but then she also haltingly admits to an uncontrolled burst of ice magic, and Ichigo gets a pretty good idea why she’s wandering around like a ruffian.

After that, he tells her of Seireitei’s glorious history, specifically the parts the kingdom has swept under the rug, and the consequences of using elemental magic even outside of Seireitei. Not illegal, but not wise to flaunt either.

“But you know it too!” Rukia points out. “Fire is elemental magic, isn’t it?”

Ichigo grunts an affirmative. “Yeah, and I either make sure nobody’s around, or if they ask, I show them some matches and pretend they just didn’t see it.”

And then, fed-up with talking, he shoves her into the river at their feet. She screeches the whole way in and the whole way back up. “ICHIGO!”

Ichigo smiles meanly. “If you want to learn elemental magic, you need a better foundation first. Let’s start with meditation.”

If she gets good enough one day to even halfway succeed in murdering him the way her furious black glare tells him she wants to, he’ll consider these lessons worth it.

5. And basically I just want these two to become badass mercenaries together. Ichigo was totally fine and prepared to spend the rest of his life alone, with maybe the occasional trip home to visit family. But then Rukia barrelled into his life and refused to leave, and as he gets to know her and vice-versa, he supposes there are (significantly) worse people in the world. She’s a quick learner, and she doesn’t complain, she works hard, and their somewhat antagonistic relationship smooths out with time, enough that eventually it becomes second nature to look for her first. And even after Ichigo deems her good enough to strike off on her own, all she does is remind him of her debt to him and refuse to leave. He feels like that’s going to become a theme in their lives.

Their little group probably expands over time. They bump into a Quincy exorcist, one of the last of a lost kingdom. Ishida is even pricklier than Ichigo but he can shoot a target blind and he takes to following them too after the three of them lay waste to a cave full of vampires with a combination of elemental magic and fancy arrows. Apparently, the scholar in him just can’t leave a completely unknown branch of magic alone.

They pick up more people - Kisuke and Yoruichi, two survivors of a caravan train that had been travelling from Seireitei to Las Noches (”Shihouin,” Rukia whispers to Ichigo the moment she lays eyes on Yoruichi’s eyes and hair and skin) that had been overrun by nightwraiths. For apparent nobles, they don’t seem to be in any haste to return to their kingdom or call for better aid than three suspicious mercenaries. In fact, Yoruichi seems overjoyed to cut her hair and purchase a concealment tattoo for her eyes from Ichigo and basically take to monster-hunting with the enthusiasm of a child let out to play for the first time. Kisuke didn’t even look like nobility to begin with and won’t stop pestering Ichigo about his magic the moment he spots him making a campfire without flint.

They get Mizuiro, a bard who smiles through the massacre of the bandit camp that had abducted him, and the enhancements he hums in battle are impressively efficient in speeding up their movements or strengthening their blows or reinforcing their shields. Then they get Inoue, a healer with spells in her repertoire as unknown as elemental magic, and her friend Tatsuki, a martial artist without a drop of magic in her but can give Ichigo a run for his money in a spar.

They  probably bump into another group of bandits except this one’s a bit weird (”We’re not really bandits,” One of them, Yumichika, claims), but that’s the label people have slapped on them, it’s what happens when you loot the rich (”They can usually afford strong fighters,” The leader Kenpachi grouches) and give to the poor (”What the fuck am I supposed to do with a mountain of gold?” Kenpachi demands). And somehow or other (obviously when Ichigo wasn’t fucking looking), Kenpachi and his people don’t leave either, and by this point, they’ve pretty much gained a bit of a reputation as some kind of mini-organization of protectors roaming the countryside, it’s fucking ridiculous and Ichigo regrets all his life choices but especially when Renji and Ikkaku and Rukia and Tatsuki get into another knock-down drag-out fight at an inn or a tavern and Ichigo’s the one who has to pay for the damages.

But anyway, eventually, Ichigo probably takes them all home where they can be his family’s problem instead. Needless to say, they get on like a house on fire, Kisuke invents like three new branches of magic in the Shiba library in the space of a week, Yoruichi and Kuukaku take to each other like long-lost soulmates, and in general, there’s just a lot of Found Family Feels. Kenpachi is in heaven, he’s never had this many people who can knock him on his ass and be down for another round.

And EVENTUALLY, someone from Seireitei probably comes to poke their nose into where it doesn’t belong because How Dare some lowborn mercenaries go around taking all the monster-hunting business away from the kingdom? Also Kaien may or may not have started spreading rumours of elemental magic and summoning magic and other never-before-seen-or-heard-of magic that makes Seireitei Very Anxious. It devolves the way it always does and results in the usual - Seireitei sends a bunch of their military in to seize everything that should be under their control and to get rid of any loose ends.

Ichigo, already stressed from the madhouse inmates he lives with (THIS IS THE WHOLE REASON HE LEFT IN THE FIRST PLACE, AND THEN HE CAME BACK AND MADE IT TEN TIMES WORSE), and he is Absolutely Delighted when Seireitei gives him the perfect excuse to blow off some steam.

And then idk there’s probably a revolution cuz the citizens and surrounding kingdoms are sick of Seireitei’s shit, none of the Shibas want to be crowned though because wow, what a waste of time, sounds boring, so Rukia is like maybe my brother can do it, he’s responsible and stuff, so they give the crown to him, and Rukia gives him an awkward hug, no hard feelings but she’s not sticking around, and the Shibas are given a place back in the city and everybody knows not to fuck with them and Kisuke starts publishing all their inventions and spreading them so even normal everyday people can learn. And then Ishida’s probably like I wanna rebuild my kingdom but there’s an asshole living in it at the moment who leads a cult and pretends he’s a messiah come to save us all so we need to kill him first, and Ichigo’s like DID YOU SAY MURDER AND AWAY FROM HERE I AM SO DOWN, and then basically Ichigo’s Menagerie of Misfit Mercenaries go to take back Wahrwelt from Yhwach, but that’s another story.

[deathboundinautumn]

Stardew Verse

Made after being peer-pressured convinced by a certain fox gremlin.  This verse has kinda already been in use but I never actually posted a little thing for it so here we are

Name: Shinjiro Aragaki (He cooks better than you) AKA: Shinji Age: 27 Occupation: Owner/Head Chef of Avalon the local café House Location: Close to the edges of Cinderswap Forest where its quiet and he’s able to gather a few wild ingredients

Bio:

Shinjiro Aragaki moved to the valley accompanied by a certain albino Shiba-Inu six years ago looking for a fresh start and a more quiet life than the one previously lived.  After his living arrangements were settled Shinjiro quietly bought an empty lot in Pelican Town directly north-east of Pierre's Shop and by the end of December that same year Avalon opened its doors.  

It was only natural for the townsfolk to be curious about their new resident but many questions about who he was or where he’d come from were only vaguely answered.  Rumors as to how Shinjiro acquired all this money surrounded him and was only made worse by his extremely private nature and the permanent scowl he seemed to wear.  A large majority of these rumors speculated he’d been some kind of criminal or a disowned trust-fund kid that had been given a large sum of money but these were never confirmed as Shinji never really opened up to anyone about his past or where he came from before moving to the valley.  

However the rumors surrounding Shinji are quickly forgotten after Avalon opens its doors thanks to the incredible food served at the café and it quickly becomes a town favorite.   

Six years later the café is rarely without patrons and the Hierophant has become a staple member of the community, providing good food and a listening ear to customers struggling with their own problems and fears.  Given the popularity of his establishment its no surprise that he’s well-informed about what’s happening around town as well as with most of the townsfolk.

Outside of the café, Shinji has fostered friendly relationships particularly with the farming community as they are his suppliers and it’s no secret to anyone that the Hierophant has a soft spot for both domesticated and stray animals.

Fun Facts

Avalon's logo is Koromaru

Avalon highly depends on locally grown goods

Being of the Hierophant Arcana, Shinjiro is able to see the supernatural and while not immune to illusory magic/deception he is able break out of such spells a lot easier than others

Koromaru is almost always with Shinji

Only close friends may call him Shinji, he will correct anyone he’s not close with.

Shinji often takes in wounded/sick stray animals, giving them a place to heal

While reluctant to do so, Shinji is still capable of wielding Persona 

[doesitsparkjoytho]

"The Happy Harpy Post" - Medieval Craigslist

(**For anyone not in the U.S., Craigslist is Facebook Marketplace's janky, super sketch predecessor, basically an online site to list items for sale, jobs, "Missed Encounters," etc.**)

[For Sale / Trade]

Realm's most powerful -- and evil -- sword

Just in time for that long-awaited conquering!

The realm's most notoriously blood-thirsty sword has reappeared from the dark abyss yet again. The last band of heroes battled death to cast it into oblivion some centuries ago, but like a merciless rash, it will not stay banished.

Features:

Authentic blood stains and nicks

Possessed by an extremely evil and demeaning spirit, rumored to be that of Lord Archbane himself

Crafted from the finest dragon's bone and titanium, ensuring years of slicing, thrusting, hacking, mutilation and general intimidation

This weapon is not for the faint of heart. If the latter is not black as pitch, I assure you that the blade will drive you mad in its attempt to corrupt your soul. I stumbled upon the sword but three weeks past, but already the power of this dark artifact threatens to consume my being. However, one with the strength of spirit to master it stands to gain an instrument of unimaginable potential.

Willing to trade for guaranteed safety during new owner's reign of terror, a residence in owner's general vicinity, and a small (negotiable) re-homing fee for myself / the sword. ***And please note: the sword has attached itself to me in ways that I dare not speak of. If you try to kill me and take the sword in place of a transaction, it will be lost for many more centuries. It has assured me of this.

If interested, please find or send for innkeeper Finbar Ruild of Heshire, Eastern Province.

Free Pulsating Crystal Thing

Are you a dark being of some authority seeking an artifact of unknown power and antiquity to enhance your castle/cave/fortress/tower/dungeon's mystical atmosphere? Are you perhaps also wishing for a handful of random occurrences to shake things up, or to rid yourself of a few pesky, traitorous, or bumbling minions too curious for their own well-being? Then look no further! This strange, eerily glowing crystal pulsates as if containing life and is sure to amuse and amaze guests. In addition, this nifty crystal can easily lull one to sleep with its deep, otherworldly and ominous croonings. I guarantee you won't stumble upon another artifact of such myriad uses and features. I'm only parting with it because the lady of the keep has suggested that I have one too many "unique" trinkets.

Serious inquiries only (No minions, peasants, slaves or other lowly beings, as I dread the repercussions of this falling into the wrong hands). Please contact Lord Vasuvian at the black tower. You can send a messenger by horseback, pigeon, falcon, hawk, bat, dragon, etc. I promise its safe return.

[Services]

Haircuts for Heroes

Are you a hero? Do you want to be? Nothing says "hero" like a unique hairstyle. I offer dying, cutting, braiding, and lime-washing. Be the first to try out my new Dark and Dangerous dye, made from a fermented leech and vinegar mixture which is entirely unique and promises the darkest, longest lasting black available.

Stop announcing your triumphs and displaying your spoils to earn the trust of the town and start standing out!

My shop, Haircuts for Heroes, is located in North Ghestfel.

Live-in Mage for hire

Have you ever wanted life to be a little easier than it is? Do you ever find yourself wishing that your floor would clean itself, that your fire would stay lit through the night, or that those pesky birds would cease pecking the thatch from your roof to build their nests?

Now you can make your wishes come true! Mage with 20+ years of experience in the Way is willing to lend his talents in exchange for room and board. His only request is that you don't treat him as a servant and allow him time for his own studies between your requests.

If interested, please send word to Octulus Drolp so that we may arrange a meeting and home viewing.

[Missed Encounters]

At the smithy - M4W

You, dearest woman, had four children in tow and were berating each of them as they touched everything in the shop. I smiled at you, but you were too busy to take full notice of me. Your voice was the sweetest music to my ears. I doubt a lovely lady such as yourself with four energetic children would be without husband, but if that is indeed the case, I beseech you to come and find me!

Make inquiry for Will at the stables.

O4H

To the ruggedly handsome human who passed through the southern Fivhren woods yesterday morn:

As I emerged from my cave, sleep still crusting my eyes like fairy dust, I was struck by a most unusual but welcome sight. Upon the knoll beyond my cave, a dark-haired man (you) knelt by his steed. My orcish heart pattered- and I am not easily moved, particularly by those of diminutive form. A dark green cloak enfolded your manly form, and you seemed intent on starting a fire, perhaps to make your breakfast.

Not wishing to startle you, I went about my morning as routine demanded, beginning with my rejuvenating spritz in the creek just beyond my cave. I began to hum to catch your attention. When you spotted me, I tried to act alluring, splashing my heaving green bosom with water from the nearby creek and rubbing my face sensually. In reality, I was merely taking my morning bath and desperately attempting to remove the morning crust from round my black orbs- but I figured 'hey, why not kill two birds with one stone?'

I locked my gaze unto yours, and your visage was overcome with- dare I hope- alarmed intrigue? You quickly gathered a few of what I assumed were your belongings, leapt onto your steed and rode away. Without me.

I am sorry if my forthcomingness frightened you away. I am willing to take things slowly, if you are lacking a mate and or have any interest in lady orcs. I enjoy, I imagine, many things you humans do: fishing; rolling in the mud and baking in the sun afterward (it's good for one's skin); eating and cooking (I prepare an astounding seared pig, and my frog-eye soup is unmatched); clubbing and stoning small, pesky animals; and, last but not least, dancing.

If you ever pass my way again, don't hesitate to peek your beautiful head into my cave and holler. But you'd better holler fairly loudly, as I'm a heavy sleeper.

Sincerely yours,

Ghrus'yula

[Community Notices]

Your Daughter Is No Treasure

Dear Lady Fitz,

Please cease advertising your daughter as the most enchanting creature in the land. I had the misfortune of crossing her path in the market this Saturday past, and she was neither lovely, endearing, soft of voice, or willow-thin. In fact, I have seen female trolls more alluring. If you were to place her in a tower for one to rescue, those stupid enough to brave the perils set before them on faith of your word alone would, upon seeing her, leap to their deaths or fall on their own swords before they carried her out of there with them. I am not trying to be rude, I am merely pointing out the truth which I think you should know. If you really wish to marry your daughter off, be honest. It also might not hurt to throw in some gold.

Sincerely,

A man saving fellow men from unhappy futures

To my neighbor to the east and south, the marauding tyrant

Dear kindred conqueror:

Being a power and land hungry tyrant myself, I acknowledge that certain consequences can be expected from claiming new provinces. For example, I realize that valuable farmland will likely be laid to waste in the process, forest burned and the animals inhabiting it slain, and villagers and townspeople dispatched from their homes.

However, it is the latter which concerns me. Far be it from me to advise you on proper warmongering, but your actions have brought the consequences of war to my borders. In the towns and villages dotting our shared borders, beings fleeing your terror-inducing campaign are piling in by the hour. However, that's not the main issue here. No, what concerns me is that these humans, orcs, elves, etc. are crossing my borders and falling dead in my towns, creating an awful sight and stench which, in the end, I am left to deal with. Not only that, but my denizens are becoming worried that I might gather my army again and attempt to take the few provinces I have allowed them to keep. I have worked hard at gaining their newfound trust in the last few years following the end of my campaign, and your actions are threatening the fragile halcyon of my new kingdom.

If you would kindly see to it that more of your soon-to-be subjects did not escape your borders, or at least died within them, I would be most grateful. If you do not comply, a few thousand of my most sickly denizens may somehow find their way into your lands just when you think you've established yourself in your new domains.

Yours to the west and north,

Lord Belus III

--------------------------------

So I used to write. A LOT. Before fanfic, I was an aspiring fantasy novelist, and I wrote pretty much all the time. I'm trying to get back into it, so I've been looking at my old pieces and taking stock of what I like/don't like. This is one of my all time favorite pieces so I thought I'd share!

[meadow-roses]

This is Part 1, ✨History✨.

Okay, so I was working on typing up plot stuff for Joden's story that I'm still thinking of a name for, but it's getting really long so I'll post it in parts. :3

Also since this is really early in the story's creation pretty much everything is subject to change, but you get the idea of the general plot. XD

@ascendant-queen 💖

If anyone has any questions feel free to ask 👀

The story is set in a forested landscape,  tree dotted grasslands eventually giving way to deep forests climbing up the mountain slopes. The different kinds of animals live in self governing groups, with varying levels of interaction between them. 

The smaller critters like mice, rabbits, and squirrels mostly just live in large family groups throughout the entire region south of the Great Pine Woods.  They by far make up the majority of the population, and have no uniting ruler.

The cheetahs live in the southern plains, little baronies scattered all around.  Their diet consists of fish and smaller birds (? Might change that later haven't decided if the birds are sentient) and the cereal crops they grow.  They also trade these grains with the other animals in exchange for goods such as cloth and beads.  They love being fancy. They have this system of electing their rulers, but only members of the "nobility" (land owners) ever get voted in because of money stuffs.

The raccoons also form their own society working off the classic monarchy.  Their kingdom is built in the Eastern woods, with  their homes built up off the ground and literally in the trees.  In the most populated villages, rope and stick bridges connect these homes making swinging pathways in the branches. A lot of the smaller creatures choose to make their homes in the roots of the raccoon trees, as their territorial border patrol keeps out aerial predators and the occasional rogue fox.  Unlike the cheetahs,  the raccoons are small enough they have enemies to worry about, and are known to have an exceptional and disciplined military. 

The bear clans live high up in the craggy woods working their gardens, rather indifferent to what happens below and the rumors that they eat their visitors.

The foxes do not have any form of government or organization. Some live in groups and some alone, some pledge a mammal free diet and some hunt their neighbors.  As such they are not trusted by anyone. :/

Here is a map I drew up:

A few things are unnamed and the scale is a bit off but you get the general idea of layout. 👍

About twenty years before the story begins:

Down from the Northern pine woods a clan of foxes comes.  They are organized, armed, and angry, ready to claim some territory after being chased out of the north by the wolf clans.  Most of the southern foxes come to join their cause, pleased at the idea of them having utter lordship over the woods. Skirting around the great cats, they infiltrate the woods to the west and south after establishing themselves in the North. This was done easily with no opposition due to the small critters having no leader. They just swept in and conquered.

With this done they turn their attentions to the East.  The raccoons have watched this all  happen with great alarm.  King Cynric gathered his men in preparation of the attack, but still wasn't ready for the craftiness of the foxes'.  They came in great numbers from the south, engaging the king's soldiers in the clash of battle, while stealthy individuals crept past the border guards and set fire to the trees.  The wind and dry weather did its work, and the kingdom of raccoons fell to fire and bloodshed.  Most died in the fires that destroyed their homes, the remainder of them fled under the guidance of their prince, only to fall at the mercy of their waiting enemies.  Unprotected sows and their kits were slaughtered by the sword or captured and enslaved in the ruins of their home and all across the newly conquered forest.  

This song really fits the burning of East Wood and Rowan's side of the story.

Prince Rowan, however, rebelled at the enslavement of his people.  With his father the king now gone, he was left the protector of his people and despite his wife's urging, could not lay down in submission.  He gathered a small team of close friends and willing boars, bid his wife farewell, and left, hoping to gain more information on the foxes' plans and find a way to free his people.   Him and those with him were never heard from again. 

The cheetahs watched all this happen around them, and decided not to interfere, but rather formed an uneasy alliance with the foxes.  They didn't consider themselves in any danger of being conquered, but weren't bothered by their actions and wanted to avoid the bother of war.  The foxes were more than eager to sign peace with the cheetahs, knowing in that their conquest would be secure.  It is unknown whether the bears up in their western mountain range are even aware of the dramatic changes to the lower-lands.

The woods are now in an awkward state of affairs, the foxes holding a tyrannical rule over all their subjects. Soldiers are stationed in every town and village to "keep the peace", the inhabitants going about their lives in the fear they or one of their family members will be chosen as the next meal.  Most of the Southern foxes still prefer a mammal free diet, but one of the Northern invaders' main objectives is to secure easy prey for consumption.  

The "free" creatures are allowed to live their lives "as they would please", but have limited allowance to travel and must give payment at the end of every week to their resident "guardians".  This payment can be anywhere from a basket of wheat berries or a bolt of cloth to an older child.

The raccoons have a far stricter control placed over them, as they are viewed more capable of revolt.  Scattered across the foxes' open woodless territory small slave towns hold the remnants of Cynric's kingdom. They spend their days working for their masters, boar and sow alike, tending fields, cooking and cleaning, mining, etc.  They are kept under strict control with heavy penalties for disobedience. Their meal times are regulated, their sleep times, work times, housing, children, everything. It is in one of these dusty, dead towns Joden grows up in.

His mother is old enough she remembers what life was like in the old kingdom, remembers a life of freedom under the trees.  Joden's father died shortly after the foxes' attack, he is told later he was one of the faithful boars that accompanied Prince Rowan for his last stand.  She raises Joden on these tales, urging him to never give up the hope that they can one day be free.

It is for his mother's sake Joden's intense optimism grows.  Can he truly be considered a slave if he goes about his work with a smile and a song? If he willingly puts on the yoke and carries the load they have required, who is the one truly in control here?  They can enslave his body but they cannot enslave his spirit.  

As he gets older he also grows bolder.  Just being cheerful to lift his mother's spirits is not enough.  He wants the entire slave town to be free in the way he is.  They all go about their days in unnecessary gloom, only because they lack someone to lead them out of it.  By the time he reaches maturity the entire town looks to him as their leader, hoping that someday a hero will come to set them free and lead them home. He stands in for them against the cruelty of their masters, fighting for the justice of his small community of raccoons.  This often gets him into a good bit of trouble, which he somehow always manages to get out of and back home to his worried mother. 

He meets Twylla when she is relocated from another slave town by stepping in when a few of the slave masters decide to teach the new coon a lesson.  The girl had made no grave offense, just a slip in her understanding of the schedule this different camp functioned under.  It was a great surprise to her when a random coon detached himself from the troop marching past, and demanded they punish him in her stead.  He would take responsibility for the sow and her actions throughout her initiation and teach her obedience to their rules, all her mistakes laid to his shoulders instead.  This was agreed to, as they had nothing in particular against the new coon but did enjoy taking out their boredom on Joden who usually escaped from any attempts against him.  Twylla really had no idea what to think of any of this.  She helped him up off the ground with repeated apologies he gently brushed off. She very willingly trotted along after him as he taught her not only how to function in this new town, but also how to hope. Then later they get married. :3

Jaceryn is the son of a Cheetah land baron.  He has been raised in the lap of luxury, his father being the wealthiest of the barons and the cheetah's current elected leader.  He is a rather naive boy who has never left his Father's estate, but naturally has big plans on how he will make the world a better place.  He has grown up in a world where the foxes have dominion of all the forest outside his Father's control, and this is normal, but he doesn't understand what that means until he sees it for himself.  They have little raccoon slaves all over his Father's land that they purchased from the foxes, so the concept of raccoons being a race of slaves is kinda engrained in him.  There's no such thing as a "free raccoon".  

His mother instructed him to stay on his father's estate when he plays outside, but one day he gets curious like young boys do, and decides to venture into the trees.  He really likes the way the forest feels and goes deeper and deeper, thoroughly enjoying himself when he hears voices and decides to investigate.  He comes across a raid in a woodland village, the fox overlords collecting their taxes.  He sees the children ripped from their mother's arms, the weeping villagers, the carts of goods and the miserable raccoon slaves pulling them, and the jeering,  laughing faces of the fox soldiers and the injustice burns within him.  It is true the foxes defeated them in battle, so the captives are their spoils of war, but this is unnecessarily cruel oppression and he hates it.  He hates that his own people- free people- are doing nothing to change this and he resolves to be the one that frees the slaves.  His parents are told this scheme by their proud little thirteen year old and are very quick to try and dissuade him.  Not only is this a dangerous task for him to undertake, but this also holds the possibility of starting a war that neither of them wish to fight.  Jacer agrees to "abandon" the dream to put his parents fears to rest, but secretly continues plotting and preparing his coup.  It would be risky, and he would need to be sneaky.  Break into a camp and take out the guards, let the little coons run free…

He went on frequent trips out to the forest to swing around in the branches and practice creeping silently through the underbrush.  The other cubs his age wrote him off as a weirdo, so he went alone.  His father eventually began to worry about him on these trips, remembering how impulsive his son can be at times.  It had been years since Jacer had talked about his quest to end slavery and had shown no signs that he still held that belief so his father thought nothing of purchasing Jacer his own personal slave.  This slave's job would be companion and voice of reason and just general personal servant.  

This is probably where the actual story would start lol, so all that is setup. XD

I'll share more as I finish writing it, cause I'm really excited about this story. :3

[fandomregina]

Hi!! Could you mayhaps write something about Douxie's childhood/before Merlin took him in?? There's so many angsty possibilities!! 😜🤘

Oh my, this hurt my heart to make and I am now realizing I might continue this on AO3, but im not sure yet. But yes I’m sorry this took so long because there are so, so many angsty possibilities and this writing style is so much fun. I hope you enjoy! (also, please dont forget to send in anon prompts if you wish!) 

Hisirdoux Casperan has been many things. A brother, a friend, a waiter, an employee, a guitarist, and an apprentice. But, before he became the last Master Wizard on Earth, before he came to Arcadia, before spending 900 years traveling the world with his familiar, and even before he was the apprentice to the late Merlin Ambrosius, he was a street rat and even before that, he was a child. Hisirdoux’s story is a long, painful one and to understand where he is now, let us start from the beginning. 

The last time he saw his blood family, Hisirdoux was 12. Just as he began to go through all of the awkward stages of puberty, there was one stage that he went through that many pre-teens do not- a magic stage. However, this stage was not temporary like all of the other awkward stages of puberty. It was very much a permanent one. 

But before we begin to tell his story, let us go back a few years. Hisirdoux comes from a family of four: a mother, a father, and a little sister. Although his family was not wealthy, they were not completely poor. His parents owned a small farm as many did outside of Camelot’s walls. Hisirdoux helped his parents cultivate the land starting at the age of 7, five years before he was chased from the very land he cultivated. When he was 5, his little sister, Felica, was born. Two years later, however, his mother passed from illness, leaving Hisirdoux and his father to plow the land. 

When Hisirdoux was not planting crops, however, he was taking care of his sister, cooking, and cleaning. When his father took the 80% of the food they grew to the market to sell, Hisirdoux and Felica would come along and would each get enough money to buy a singular thing. Hisirdoux would buy Felica’s favorite candy and he would stash his, saving up enough money to buy himself a satchel. 

This went on for many years. Hisirdoux cared for the land in the morning, cared for his sister in the afternoon, and cared for his father and sister at night. The only time he was able to care for himself was when the two were asleep and he could climb up onto the roof of their house and look at the stars. 

However, it all began to change three weeks after Hisirdoux’s twelfth birthday. He had cut himself on one of the farming tools. Before he could even call to his father that he needed to go inside to wash the wound, it healed. Hisirdoux shrugged it off as him imagining it since the wound never even bled when he cut himself. 

The second time his magic presented itself was much harder to shrug off. It was 2 months after the first time and it was the afternoon, so Hisirdoux was caring for his sister. He was making the afternoon snack and left the knife on the edge of the counter. Felica, curious at the age of 7, and wanting to help Hisirdoux make the afternoon snack, reached for the knife. However, she was not tall enough to grab it off the counter yet, so she was only able to touch the bottom edge of the knife. As Hisirdoux turned around, having done so to grab a plate, he put his hand out as the knife fell and towards his sister. Before it reached her, however, it flew to his hand. Panicking, he dropped the knife with a yelp. His sister, still too young to understand what had happened, went back to playing with what little toys the Casperan house had. Hisirdoux quickly decided not to tell his father (or anyone, for that matter). 

The third time that Hisirdoux’s magic presented itself was the first and last time his father saw it, along with the entire village 4 months after the first time his magic presented itself. It was the last Monday of the 8th month, so the Casperans and every farmer in the village were in town, selling what foods they had made in the past 4 months. Hisirdoux was buying Felica’s favorite candy when it happened. Just as the two paid and left the stall, a large man with a knife began to yell. He had seen Hisirdoux put extra coins into his newly bought satchel and demanded him to give it over. Hisirdoux, the stubborn boy he is, said no. This angered the man and he charged at the two. Panicking, and wishing to protect his little sister, Hisirdoux stood between Felica and the man with his arms in an x. Douxie felt something come from himself and when he opened his eyes, the man was unconscious nearly 25 feet away. Almost immediately the villagers began to whisper. Then, they began to yell and scream. 

“Witchcraft!”

“Magic!” 

“Get him!” 

Hisirdoux began to run as the villagers began to chase. With one last look behind him as he entered the forest that bordered the north-western side of the village, he saw his father pick up Felica and turn around to take her home. And so, Hisirdoux ran. 

~~~~~~~

Hisirdoux ran. He ran, and ran, and ran until his legs gave out. Collapsing somewhere in the forest as the jeers and shouts of the villagers began to fade. What happened quickly begins to crash down on the boy and he begins to sob. 

He couldn’t have magic. He couldn’t be a wizard. He just couldn’t. 

As he continues to cry underneath a large tree, the forest soon begins turning dark, signaling that Hisirdoux needs to find shelter. Quickly. 

Wiping his tears, Hisirdoux begins to look around for something, anything, that he could use as a shelter for the night. Finding a tree with large enough branches to sit on, Hisirdoux climbs it. Reaching the middle of the tree, just before the branches begin to thin, he picks a branch and sits on it, leaning against the body of the tree. Sighing, he closes his eyes. 

Where was he to go? There was a river that ran north and a river that ran south. Hisirdoux immediately chose the one that ran south. He could not survive the cold winters the north faced. 

What about food? He could try to sneak into his house when his father was working in the field, but he has no idea how his father would react if he saw him again. Hisirdoux sighs. He would much rather take those chances than to starve to death in a few days' time. 

As light begins to pour into the forest again, Hisirdoux climbs down from the tree. It wasn’t the best night of sleep he’s ever gotten, but it certainly wasn’t the worst. Looking around the forest, he tries to figure out where he came from. His family’s farm was south of the village, but which way was south? Looking down, he stares at his shadow. He gasps. He was facing west, so his back was towards the east. That means, to go south, he had to continue to the left of where he was facing. 

As he walks south, deciding it would do him no good to run, Hisirdoux wonders how his father is going to react seeing him again if he’s caught. Angry? Happy? Scared? What is he going to tell Felica? Hisirdoux shakes his head. He’d figure that out when it came. For now, he had to continue south and not get caught. 

As the forest begins to open up to the fields, he begins to move along the tree line west, staying out of view of the families working their own farms at this time. When he finally reaches his farm, Hisirdoux makes sure nobody is looking when he sprints across the land and to the house. Entering from the backdoor, he makes sure to shut it quietly to not alert his father or sister. Sneaking into the kitchen, he grabs what food he can, making sure to leave enough for his father and sister. Douxie swings his head around, clutching a loaf of bread when he hears the front door open. His father stands in the doorway, staring at him. 

“Hisirdoux,” He whispers, walking towards his son slowly. 

“Dad,” Hisirdoux cries, running towards him. The two hug tightly knowing it will be their last. “Where’s Felica?” Hisirdoux asks, pulling himself from his father. 

“She’s taking a nap.” Hisirdoux sighs with relief. “What were you thinking, Hisirdoux?” His father asks, gripping his shoulders. “They could have killed you.” Pulling him in for another hug, Hisirdoux buries his face in his father’s chest. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m not even sure what I did.” Hisirdoux grips the back of his father’s shirt. The two let go of one another. 

“You have to leave before they realize you’re back. Take some more bread and a few bottles of water. I’ll get you some coins.” His father quickly makes his way to his room as Hisirdoux packs his satchel with food and water. When his father comes back, he’s holding a pouch with coins. “This should hold you over until you get to the next town for food.” Hisirdoux takes it and gasps at how much is in it.

“Dad, I can’t-” His father puts his hands over Hisirdoux’s. 

“I can make more. It’s alright. Now, quickly. Go through the backdoor and follow the river south. There’s a town not too far from here. A few day's journey.” Hisirdoux nods. 

“Can… Can I tell her goodbye?” Hisirdoux pleads. His father nods. 

Placing the pouch of money into his satchel, Hisirdoux makes his way towards the shared room he and his sister have. Opening the door, he smiles. “Hey, Felica.” The young girl turns from the window to him, smiling. 

“Douxie!” She cries, running towards her older brother. He squats down to hug her. “Where did you go?” Hisirdoux pulls away from her, smiling sadly. 

“I have to go, Felica. What I did yesterday to protect you is something that’s feared here.” Felica starts to tear up.

“So you have to leave… because you protected me?” She sobs, crashing into her brother again. Hisirdoux tightens his hold on her. 

“No, of course not, Felica. I have to leave because of what I am.” He pulls her away from him. “But if I had the chance to go back and redo it, I would do it a million times again to protect you.” He smiles. “I love you, Felica. Don’t you ever forget it, okay?” She nods, wiping her tears. 

“I love you too, Douxie.” She hugs him one last time before he stands, placing a kiss on the top of her forehead. 

“I don’t think I’ll be back for a while, Felica. So, you have to promise me this, ok? Take care of dad.” She nods. 

“I promise.” 

“Goodbye, Felica.” 

“Douxie, wait!” She yells, scrambling to her bed. Reaching under her pillow, she pulls out a metal bracelet made of metal triangles. “I bought this yesterday after you ran to the forest in case I saw you again. I bought two so we could always be wearing the same one.” She hands it to Hisirdoux. Wiping at his tears, Hisirdoux puts on the bracelet and looks at Felica’s wrist, seeing that she already had hers on. “Don’t you ever forget me, okay?” She sniffed. Hisirdoux reaches down for one last hug. 

“Never. I promise.”

 Walking out of the room with Felica trailing behind him, Hisirdoux hugs his father one last time before leaving. Sprinting to the forest, Hisirdoux only looks back once he’s safe within the trees. He stares at the figures of his father and sister on the back doorstep before he turns and begins his journey south. 

He begins his journey to Camelot.

[nelllraiser]

fish bites | grace & nell

TIMING: during the fog fish potw, before the morgue scream. LOCATION: the woods. PARTIES: @silveraccent & @nelllraiser SUMMARY: nell and grace decide to take a walk, and run into some foggy-fish- and even though they may be misunderstood, they decide to take the L and leave.

What had started as a truth serum mishap seemed to, thankfully, be turning into a budding friendship. With things seemingly and momentarily slowing down for Nell, it meant that now she could take the time to actually enjoy friends rather than simply worry about their lives and her own being in near constant danger. Of course...that was still something she worried about, and often still had nightmares of, but if the danger kept itself to her dreams and out of the real world it meant she could do things like go on harmless hikes with Grace. As the pair walked through the dense forest of the Outskirts, Nell trudged along confidently, rather familiar with the woods as they’d frequently been her hunting grounds when it came to bringing in monsters for the Ring. “So how’s everything been with adjusting to White Crest? Hopefully no one accidentally slipped you some truth serum or anything equally ridiculous.” The words were an obvious and light jab at herself.

A few months ago, Grace wouldn’t have been able to imagine being friends with somebody who accidentally dosed her food with truth serum. Now, she thought it was fitting to the way that the little town had welcomed her. She and Nell, and even Blanche, were growing to be quick friends. She was grateful, if not slightly wary. Not due to the situations that they had found themselves in revolving around one another, but due to her inability to let go of the fact that one day, her friends might not be around any longer. Still, she pushed through it, thus finding herself on a hike with Nell in the woods she hadn’t trapeized through yet. “It’s taking some time,” Grace admitted to her as she stepped over a fallen branch on the pathway. She looked over at Nell with a smile, “there have been a few things to top that, don’t worry.” She wasn’t lying, either. Between the reanimated corpses, the airplanes, seeing Renee. Her stomach churned. “I wouldn’t worry about me,” Grace said as she stabilized herself on a neighboring tree. “It brought us here, didn’t it?” She asked with a tilt of her head. 

Nell’s childhood had been spent among these pines, running along with her sisters until the sun began to set, and Bea would round them up to get back to the East End in time for dinner. Being famous Vegas magicians on par with David Blaine had left the Vurals quite well off, and though Harris Island had the most extravagant houses— Nisa and Demir had wanted a place where it was easier for three growing girls to stretch their wings and breathe. Considering that yards were rare on the island, the East End had been the obvious answer. So the forest was something of a sanctuary, a place that could be rife with danger, but also comfortingly hidden away. “That’s fair,” Nell commented. “There’s a lot to get used to in White Crest. What do you mean a few things to top it, though?” Had trouble been finding Grace? “Well you can’t tell me not to worry about you after you just said that,” she finished with a brief chuckle. “But it’s true. I guess we have truth serum to thank.”

Despite its miseries, White Crest had brought things to Grace’s surface. She had begun to think about things more clearly, and though she had originally taken refuge in a new town for the sake of wanting quiet, it was anything but. She could blame herself, sure, but she had the means to leave, to disappear into the night. Did she want to, though? Maybe whatever White Crest had to offer was a little more interesting than Grace had originally thought. She was curious, that was for certain. Maybe a little naive, too, but Renee’s words in her head, just live! Just live, Grace! It was what kept her moving forward. Grace gave Nell a sideways smile and shrugged, “I mean, you live here too, I’m sure you can imagine.” Truthfully, whatever it was that she had gone through, she couldn’t imagine it to be too wild, what with the stories she had heard. “Do you know Connor?” Grace asked as she stepped over another wayward branch, “I ran into him after-- well, after I saw my old friend, the one I mentioned.” Grace wasn’t sure if she trusted Nell because of their first meeting, or because she felt nothing ominous from her. “We saw some stuff, it was…” Grace shrugged, “it’s definitely an eye opener, I can tell you that much.” Grace carded her fingers through her hair as they came to a smaller trail that looked like it led off of the main path. “Do you want to go that way?” Grace asked, curious. 

At the mention of Connor, Nell tilted her head to the side in vague acknowledgement, not entirely sure if her one meeting with the exorcist counted as knowing him. “Yeah, I know him,” was what she settled on. Unconsciously, Nell slowed her walking, realizing the conversation might be about to take a rather serious turn. “Your friend…” she began tentatively. The one who had died? “The girl you mentioned when we were under the truth serum, right?” There was no need to rake over old wounds. “You saw her as a ghost?” There was no delicate way to put it, not with the world they lived in. Maybe it was best to say it outright and quickly, to rip the bandaid soundly off in one go. “Are you alright?” she asked as her follow up question, though she had a suspicion that the answer was no, regardless of what Grace might say. How would seeing your dead friend fall into the category of alright? Nell followed Grace’s question with her eyes, looking the trail over. It was one of the more secluded routes. Maybe the bigger and thicker trees would help Grace feel a little more sheltered. “Yeah, for sure.” It didn’t take long for things to change the further along the path the got, a thick fog quickly settling around them. Fog wasn’t an strange oddity in White Crest, but for it to have come on this quickly was possible cause for questioning. “Fog doesn’t usually come on that quick here…” Nell mused aloud, a frown tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Yeah, her.” Grace smoothed her fingers through her hair. She didn’t open up easily, and the majority of that had to do with her ability to figure out others’ emotions at the drop of a hat. It felt like cheating. She could see inside of them, but they couldn’t see into her. The truth serum had certainly helped pass that roadblock, and Grace couldn’t be sure if she was embarrassed or grateful for it. “Yeah, it was…” Grace forced out a laugh, “usually I’m all for a good scare, but--” She shrugged and cleared her throat. It suddenly felt thick. “I’m fine, but, you know it’s weird… she looked the same way when I identified her--” Grace’s sentence broke away as they stepped into thick fog. It pooled towards them quickly. Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked around. It was thick enough that if she weren’t standing directly next to Nell, she’d lose her line of sight. Grace tugged at the straps of her backpack nervously, tightening it against her. “Does this always happen?” Grace asked as she moved slightly closer to Nell. Just in case, she thought. 

As Grace spoke, Nell’s brows drew together in the beginnings of concern, the emotion flickering alive inside her as it woke, sensing that there was a friend in need. “I mean good scares are fun. It’s just a little different when it’s someone you know.” She hadn’t seen Bea’s ghost when she’d been dead, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. However, she’d seen it all when Evan had formed along with the cursed coins all those months ago. Nell knew firsthand that seeing that was the opposite of fine. “They do that. Ghosts. Appear as they did when they died. I’m sorry you had to see it, though. Both when you identified her and when you saw her as the ghost again.” Nell’s selfish curiosity wanted to ask what it was that had happened, but managed to bite her tongue this time around. But the fog was growing far too thick to be anything normal, and a frown was quick to form on Nell’s lips, her not liking this in the least. She could barely see her hand in front of her face, and being blind to her surroundings did nothing for the seemingly ever-present paranoia that someone was out there...waiting to attack...just like Montgomery had. “No. It doesn’t.” As Grace shuffled closed, Nell reached down to grasp the empath’s hand in her own, both for comfort and practicality. As Nell squinted into the fog, she finally spotted them— a set of fins forming from seemingly nothing as a fish’s face greeted them no more than a foot away. “Oh shit, it’s one of those fucking foggy fish or whatever.

Grace hadn’t told anyone about Renee, nobody but Connor. For Nell to know, too-- albeit originally, without prompting due to the truth serum, Grace had become afraid. She had become afraid to form friendships, or any connection for that matter. She had come to White Crest with the intent of silence, of solitude. The life she had thought out for herself, however, was turning into something entirely different than what she had pictured. “It wasn’t really--” Grace looked up to the canopy of trees, she let Nell take a hold of her hand. She squeezed it tightly as she looked at the fish that began to surround them. “I haven’t actually,” Grace gasped out, “I haven’t seen any of them, I’ve heard of them, but--” Grace stared at the fish, eyes wide as it began to float closer to them. “What do we do?” She asked Nell as she gave her a quick glance.

Nell wasn’t sure how to approach the fog fish, electing to stay where she was and not make any sudden movements. For the most part, they seemed docile. “I…” It was rare that she wasn’t sure how to proceed with the supernatural, but this wasn’t something she’d seen in her entire life. “I don’t think it’s...aggressive.” As if in answer, one of the fish swam closer to nudge the pair of them gently with its nose, almost seeming curious. Nell tensed when it did, still not trusting the foggy fish as magic began to instinctively pool and gather in her stomach. “I don’t know what it wants?” Another of its fish friends came up to prod Grace with its strange nose. “If we just stay here, and stay still— maybe it’ll just go away?”

“You don’t think?” Grace asked, tone maybe a little too accusative. She cleared her throat. “Sorry, I’m just-- This isn’t normal.” She whispered. Grace winced as the fish floated closer to them, its mouth and what she figured was its nose coming to touch against their forearms. “If we just stay here?” She asked uneasily. She watched the fish as it watched them warily, its eyes blinking slowly-- or did it even have eyelids? She couldn’t tell. Grace bit the inside of her cheek as she cast a glance Nell’s way. “You’re way too calm for this, does this happen to you a lot?” She asked.

“I mean I don’t know for sure,” Nell replied, just the smallest bit defensive. “No, it’s fine.” She couldn’t expect Grace to take every weird thing White Crest threw at her in stride. That would be vastly unfair. “It’s not normal. Even by White Crest standards.” Of course White Crest had seemed particularly active ever since she’d returned. “We could try and leave if you want?” Something about the fish was almost hypnotizing, making Nell want to stay and learn more about them. “I mean- this specifically doesn’t happen to me. But a lot of weird shit...does. I also sort of sought it out for five years before I came home.” Somewhere in the distance, another fish formed, though this one looked a little different. Sharper and leaner. 

“Good to know,” Grace shot back, a nervous smile pulling at the corners of her lips-- an involuntary reaction to the situation before them. She looked at the fish and did her best to avoid its eyes, as she was unsure of where to look. It looked sort of like the fish in her bowl at home, but with two eyes instead of one. “Do you think we can?” Grace asked under her breath, tugging the other girl alongside her, “they’re everywhere, aren’t they?” She had gone on the walk with Nell with no other intention other than stress relief, but it didn’t seem as though the Fog Fish were going to allow that, not now, at least. She blinked at them, disbelief settling on her features when another two fish formed behind the newest. “Maybe we should go?” Grace asked, a little more urgent as she pulled Nell backwards, down the path that the two had made their ways up. 

“Unclear,” Nell replied on the subject of whether or not the fish would allow them to pass. “I guess there’s only one way to find out, though,” she said as she too took a step back up the path they’d come. For a moment she hesitated, curiosity momentarily getting the better of her as the cloudy fish continued to sail the gentle breeze of the forest. The way they moved was nearly mesmerizing, and Nell wanted to know just what it was they were. The fish began to part, the fog once again gathering thickly around their pod as another fish began to form. This one was sharper, leaner, and apparently meaner as it moved aggressively towards the pair of girls, a overbite of sharp teeth somehow glinting in the lowlight. “Okay- definitely time to go!” Nell grabbed onto Grace’s hand once again in an effort to tug her along the trail, steps quickening into a run as the enormous barracuda gave chase. Standing to fight was Nell’s general instinct when it came to hostile parties, but it was glaringly apparent that fighting fog wasn’t going to be all the fruitful.

Grace arched a brow, “you’re not going to go pet it, are you?” She wouldn’t put it past Nell to do so, and then again, maybe Grace would too, but these were floating fish in the air surrounding them, fog following their tails. Grace’s attention was diverted to the mass of fog that hovered over the hoard of fish, and only when she saw the fish with the overbite head their way did Grace hear the fear in Nell’s voice. Finally, she thought. Grace let Nell guide her down the pathway from where they had come. “Do you think it can actually hurt us?” Grace yelled out as they ran, tossing a cautionary glance over her shoulder as they avoided branches and low hanging limbs from trees. The last thing she wanted to do was be eaten by a fog fish. Grace rarely ran, and her breath was already running ragged. “I don’t want to get eaten,” She whined out as they ran. The clearing was just ahead-- they hadn’t gotten very far, lucky enough for them. As soon as they broke from the fog of the woods, the sun kissed the crowns of their heads and Grace twisted around to look at the fog as it began to dissipate. “So it was just territorial. Cool.” 

The fish was hot on their trail as the gled through the forest, and Nell swore she could feel some sort of ghoul-ish breeze pass over the nape of her neck when it gnashed its teeth together a little too close for comfort. But as the crisp sun beat down on their skin, Nell turned to see that Grace had been correct. The fish was gone as quickly as it had appeared. “What the hell?” Nell asked no one in particular. It wasn’t all that often she came across a creature she couldn’t even begin to identify, but this was definitely something new for the catalogue. “Maybe it can’t leave the fog?” she pondered aloud. “Since it’s made up of it?” Either way, it was probably for the best that the thing was gone— even if she was a little too curious about the foggy fish. Turning back to Grace, she gave the girl a once over in an attempt to make sure her friend had escaped unscathed. Once she was satisfied with that she simply said, “Do you think it would make good fish sticks?”

“I don’t know,” Grace whispered, her heart thudding. She glanced towards Nell, “maybe?” She squinted into the fog, barely able to make out any other floating figures past them. “That’s…” Grace tugged on Nell���s hand, “we should go before we figure out if it can, right?” She let out a nervous laugh as she tried to guide Nell back towards where they had come from. “Fish sticks? I mean, probably not. I don’t think it has any substance.” Grace ran a shaky hand through her hair as she stepped over another fallen branch. She hadn’t expected today to turn into running away from a fog fish, or a few, but anything was possible in White Crest, she was seeming to notice. Grace took a deep breath, “at least we didn’t get hurt.” Grace laughed uneasily, finally letting go of Nell’s hand as they broke through the brush, back towards the open space. 

Despite Nell’s curiosity about the fish, she followed after Grace. Had she been along, she might have ventured back to explore further, but she wasn’t willing to potentially risk her friend’s safety. Of course...she could always come back later. “That’s what tartar sauce is for, then,” she quipped back playfully. “Of course we’d need a big container of it. Maybe just fill a pool and dunk the whole fish in.” Once they were out of the woods, Nell continued down the path towards town. “You know...I think I just made myself hungry.” And even if she wasn’t, Nell was always down for a good meal. “Let’s swing by Al’s and see if fish is on the menu today,” she laughed with Grace, apparently already recovered from their near brush with the strange creature. No doubt Grace would develop the skill as well once White Crest really got its hands on her. People always adjusted to the town one way or another.

[obliviouskind]

One Foot After the Other

@draconscious​

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-Despite the cultural differences, despite the fact that Johto was petite in both its landmass and population; a port town was, no matter what, still a port town. Olivine, if nothing more, didn’t differ itself all that much from Virbank due to this fact. And perhaps it was why there hadn’t been much push back (though she certainly had had some words to share…) when the announcement of travel had been made but three days prior. --Up on the east coasts fields, fiber glass giants towered over the modest mountain range while to the west, a factory laid nestled against a gently forested backdrop. In his past, Cyrus could distinctly recall having actually overseen some of these developments while working under the name of his father’s company; having had to see to materials reaching their desired destinations on time, and for the workforce to be properly suitable for the work at hand. All for the sake of future good relations between the isolated Sinnoh, and the prospering Johto.

… What work he had done in the past, however, never had been seen by his very own eyes. Nothing more than simplistic drawings and layouts had been set upon his desk; but vague boxes and shapes made for the ease of reading, and nothing else. To actually have been able to set foot onto the city’s paved streets and wooden boardwalks had, therefor, been an experience to take in.

One he had done in a long, drawn out breath and a tension relief of his shoulders.-

Alas, to enjoy the city for its beauty hadn’t been the goal of their travels; nor had there been much actual time to leave for ‘tomfoolery’ and the like (though Nikita, his cousin in but papers alone, certainly had given it a heartfelt try). Despite the rivalry of interest, Virbank had been tasked with furthering the development of the young port town by shipment and workers after disarray had found its way within their previous contact – and now, it would seem, it was an effort the regional community very much was keen to repay.-

-(He felt safe in assuming the communal center they currently fond themselves, had been the establishment they had provided for. The western styled architecture, with its stone floors and pillars, stood out within a region lost within such a different and distinct time.)-

-… Beneath his right fingertips laid the finest of silk – paired by that of a woman’s gently narrowed waist. In the palm of his left hand, her right. And, he noted that despite the aid of modest heels; she stood shorter than himself by but a few pale centimeters.-

-The announcement that the leaders of cities would be present as exclusive guests had, in reality, not been as surprising to Cyrus as it perhaps ought to have been. Within Sinnoh’s closed boarders, it wasn’t uncommon for gym leaders and the like to take active parts in their given communities; be it the foreign coordinator star within Sinnoh’s heart leading charities together with the church, or the young martial artist in the city of lights developing after-school activities for the children at hand. However, by all accounts it seemed that it was quite the rare spectacle for Johto. --The guests quickly had been filtered into pairs and groups – Nikita, eager as can be, having found himself with an arm around the young woman looking over Olivine itself from her iron throne. (Something that sounded more menacing, than her dainty appearance would suggest.)

If he had to give a guess as to why he, out of anyone else, had been chosen to be the partner of Blackthorn’s young leader – then he could feel safe in betting money on his appearance having played part in the decision-making.

Unique as it may be, two sets of cobalt heads made for cohesive picture taking; and that, it seemed, was the ultimate goal of Johto’s hospitality.

(Not that he could, or would, judge, of course, but it was something to be noted.)

Where Jasmine had seemed delighted at the prospect of dance and music – having skipped like a child onto the large wooden platform where dance were to take place just after dinner – the woman within his own hands seemingly was not. With her brows permanently fitted into that of a scowl, a pout to her lips; Clair – a name he admittedly found curious for a region such as this – seemed most unhappy with the task at hand.-

-A sentiment he himself couldn’t fault her for, for he certainly wasn’t as entertaining of a partner as perhaps she would’ve liked. But a whispered voice in his thoughts told him that he, perhaps, wasn’t the direct cause of her sour mood. --And, thusly, by a gentle squeeze of her hand – a push of the small of her back to press her flush against his own himself; Cyrus leant in to allow his voice to travel to her ears despite the bubbling chatter, laughter and song all around them.

His cheek, settled against her azure locks.

His tone, gentle and soft and carrying a lilt that differentiated himself from his supposed Unovan heritage:-“If I may ask… Is it perhaps uncommon for your station to partake in these sorts of events?”