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bricousland · 4 years ago

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The Sunwell

The Void has been haunting Ada'Lene since her encounter with it while on a mission in Outland. It's been acting like a virus, slowly eating away at her ability to use the Light and forcing her to use Shadow Magic more and more. Visiting the Sunwell and asking M'uru for her help is Lene's last-ditch effort to re-balance the Void and Light within her. However, since Alleria's visit to the Sunwell, the priests have been limiting access and things aren't as easy as Lene had hoped.

This is a short story I wrote to fill in a time gap between my RP group's World of Warcraft Campaign. It’s the second story to feature my Blood Elf Priest, Ada’Lene Lightweaver. Like many of my WoW shorts, it was written for my RP group so, much of the details are left out since the group knows everything that’s happened to Lene leading up to this moment. If you’d like to know some of the details surrounding what happened, send me an ask and I’d be happy to fill it in for you or maybe it'll inspire me to write a detailed account for you!

A Note on Ada’s name: Ada’s full name is Ada’Lene Lightweaver and she has two sisters who go by Ada’Nara and Ada’Leya. The prefix “Ada” is an old tradition in her family for the female line. Her actual name is simply “Lene” and her sister’s: “Nara” and “Leya”. The group, however, doesn’t really know this and have always just referred to her as “Ada”. Up to this point, Lene has never been bothered to correct them since, at the time of this story, they don’t know her sisters and Lene has no incentive to introduce them. Ada is as good a name as any for her.

The summer sun filled the garden and warmed Ada’Lene’s face as she turned it towards the sky. Surrounded by the smell of golden overgrowth and flowers, she was reminded of the solace being back in the Temple could provide. The silence and isolation eased her mind in ways the city simply could not. It allowed for moments of temporary normalcy. When the sun was bright and she was among the foliage, the whispers would dull for a time. In these fleeting moments, she could feel the person she wanted to be fighting against the darkness that had plagued her for so long. The Temple gardens of Quel’Danas had been a sanctuary to her for the years following the destruction of the Sunwell and her Mother’s subsequent descent into madness. She needed that same feeling of safety now.

Failure.

Ada’s heart thumped against her chest when she heard the voice. It sounded more and more like her mother every day. It was learning, and that made it difficult to ignore and even more arduous to dismiss. The moments of contemplation were always fleeting, no matter how beautiful the day. The whispers always found a way to slither back into her head it’s why she’d decided to come. She had strived her whole life to be anything but a burden to those around her, and after seeing her friends rally behind her and fail, she knew this was something she’d have to solve on her own.

Ignore those thoughts. Deep breaths, clear your mind, find your Chi. Just like the Mistweavers showed you. Find your focus.

Lene lifted Kaivus’ small lantern from her hip and held it between her hands. She used the soft flow of the Light to help her focus on the sweet smell of the garden and the warmth of the sun on her back. Pleasant things, good things, not the thoughts trying to drown her. The small lantern in her hands grew warmer and the Light was snuffed out as she felt her body absorb the last of it to push back the whispers. Her mind calmed again and she breathed out a sigh of relief. The Pandaren’s method didn’t always work but coupled with the lantern it could numb the Void and give her time to feel like herself again. Even a minute was worth the effort.

Her mind cleared, but just as she felt the turmoil in her come to rest she was disrupted by the heavy sound of boots coming her way. The priests never came this far back, not did they walk with such heavy steps.

Priests are light-footed. LIGHT-footed, ha. Kaivus would appreciate that one.

With her focus broken, the whispers came flooding back. The Light in the lantern didn’t, however, it needed time to recover. She’d be on her own for awhile. Her attention turned to the approaching footsteps, only to see Cyrus rounding the corner.

They don’t trust you to handle this on your own. They know you can’t.

Ada stood. She’d told him to leave her alone. She wanted to try to deal with this without everyone looking at her as if she were a problem to be solved. Of course he wouldn’t listen, he never listened to anyone and had a penchant for trying to fix things when they were broken. Especially her. “I told you not to come.”

“Since when do I listen to you?” He was a child who had no regrets about being caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Lene narrowed her gaze on him, “But, before you get angry, I come bearing good news.” Cyrus slid onto the bench and patted the spot next to him. Lene pinched the bridge of her nose but slid into the spot beside him. “Nara pulled rank.” He explained, “And has gotten you access to the Sunwell.”

Ada’Lene opened her mouth to berate him for coming. Just like everyone else, Cyrus was a distraction. He was more than that, he was an absolute pain in the ass. Then he mentioned Nara and all of a sudden Lene found herself staring at him, slack-jawed and with eyes as wide as the sun, “She what?” Nara didn’t use her political sway for anything. Especially for something she considered a personal matter, and Lene had heard her use that term, ‘personal matter’, everytime they talked about her visit to the Sunwell.

They’re losing faith. They know you’ll fail. You always fail Ada’Lene Lightweaver.

“Don’t get too excited.” Cyrus’ had an amused smile as he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. Lene tugged it away and stood on her own, “She wants to talk to you first, to know what your plans are if this doesn’t work.” Cyrus walked with Lene towards the front of the gardens, an arm sliding over her shoulders and holding her close as they moved along the path.

She walked beside him for a time but then slipped out from under his arm with a gentle smile and took a few long strides so she was ahead of him. “There is no other plan. The Sunwell will work.” She let her fingertips glide across a few soft petals which stretched out onto the path. Lene and Cyrus were officially courting, but lately Lene found herself less than enthused about the idea than when she agreed. She loved Cyrus, he was like a brother to her and took care of her during a time in her life where there was a lot of uncertainty. She felt she owed him the chance to be something more. She should have known better than to try and force these things. Lene touched the small golden lantern at her hip.

“Well, you can tell her that.” Ada bowed her head as the whispers continued to try and dominate her thoughts. They were bold little things, they poked and prodded until they felt the walls she’d built lower. Once they sensed even an inkling of instability, they sunk their fangs in and held on for as long as they could. They found the holes in her soul and filled them with doubt and paranoia. The priests had taught her to manage most of their attacks, but there were the ones which couldn’t be managed. The priests warned that eventually, Lene would have to choose to control them or succumb to them.

She wanted neither

Cyrus caught up to Lene as they came to the front of the garden. He put a hand on her back; he was always like this. She didn’t understand his desire to marry her, he didn’t even love her. It was all about following through with their fathers’ wishes. Lene hadn’t minded before, she wanted Nara and Fe’Lana to have their chance and so Lene had finally agreed to the match. But now things had changed. Ada shrugged him off and gave him a solid punch to the arm. “Stop. I can’t deal with your flirting today. Where’s Nara?”

Cyrus barked a laugh and rubbed his arm. “Over there.” Cyrus pointed to one of the private pavilions scattered throughout the temple grounds. They were made of rose tinted glass and stabilized by tall golden pillars molded to look like broad-leaved hyacinth vines. This particular one had real vines climbing up along the pillars and at the top large yellow and red flowers reached for the sun.

Cyrus opened the door for Lene and she stepped through feeling a sudden weight of life changing decisions pressed on her shoulders. Nara had that effect on people--on a room. She could make anyone feel small. Even if she was the shortest sibling. She sat on a bench reviewing some papers and scratching her signature across the bottom of a few pages. She wasn’t in her typical Paladin armor. Today she was dressed the part of a House Lady -- or in her case Lord. Nara would never be caught dead in a dress. Instead, she preferred a pair of deep red and gold leggings, flats, and a comfortable blouse. Her hair was tucked behind her ears with minimal effort but she still managed to look regal with perfected posture and a natural sternness in her features. The scar that marred the left side of her face did not make her look softer, even the pink tinted windows could do little to soften the General.

Nara looked up from her work and set it aside, laying her pen on top of the small stack of papers. “How are you?” There was a rare hint of concern in her voice; it threw Ada’s initial response out the window. The extent of her sister’s worry was written all over her face.

“Fantastic, now that I’ll have access to the Sunwell. Nara, thank you.” She ran up to her sister and hugged her. She felt Nara relax beneath her affection and Nara held Lene tight. She wasn’t completely made of stone.

“You’re my sister; and this has gone on long enough. I can’t watch you isolate yourself like this anymore. But Lene,” Nara pulled away and held her at arm’s length. Her bright golden eyes studying her. The look Nara gave her made her heart race. It was hard to tell what kind of answers Nara was looking for when she watched someone like that. It made it especially hard to lie.“I need to know what you’re going to do if this doesn’t work. You need a path, I won’t have you continue being lost like this.”

She’s lost her faith in your abilities. Everyone has. You’ve become a useless memory but you can find your purpose again. Just listen to us.

Ada grabbed her sister’s forearm, “Nara, this will work. The Sunwell connected me to the Light before. It can do so again.”

Why do you try? The Light has abandoned you, but we’re here.

“Maybe. But you need a plan. Will you learn to control the Void better? Take up another skill perhaps? You’re trained in battlefield medicine. A little bit more training and you’ll be able to heal in another way.”

This again? She’d thought about taking that path. Long and hard but then she remembered standing in front of an infected fel corpse. It needed to be put out of its misery and yet, as she strangled it and heard its neck snap, Ada felt dirty. Even as Qeldaras and Lahkrimosa had praised her for a job well done, all Lene could feel was the pulse of Void magic tightening its grip on her. The way the it sat with her, taunted her, gave into its base need for violence sent chills down Ada’s spine. She hated the feeling, “Nara, I won’t be a Shadow Priest. I won’t become our mother.”

“You’re not her, Lene! Shadow Priests have been using the Void to fight for good for as long as the Light has. Your closest friends are Demon Hunters. Corruption doesn’t have to mean degradation. With proper training you’ll manage. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

Like she protected you from your mother? She let your mother torture you while she drew power from a dying Naaru. She should be ashamed of who she is, not you.

The whispers baited her anger and yanked the vitriol out of her mouth before she could contain it. “Like you kept me safe before? You left me to be beaten and broken. Everyday, it was something: I smiled too much like Father, I couldn’t use the Light, I wasn’t happy enough, I wasn’t sad enough. Every meaningless thing became an affront; an excuse to torture me, and yet you prioritized your training over being at home! We needed you!”

“Lene, calm down.”

She hurt you too. No one cares about what you want. No one cares about you -- except us, of course. We care, we’re here for you.

There was a warning in Nara’s voice but Ada’Lene chose to ignore it. “I don’t want to manage. I’m not a killer. I’m not you.”

“That’s enough!”

“Don’t like being reminded that you’re the reason our mother is dead?”

“Which did you want, Lene, to be saved or to have our mother alive?”

“I wanted both!”

“Alright, you’ve both had a good row at each other.” Cyrus stepped between them and took Ada by the arm. “Lene, let’s go.” He pulled her towards the door.

Nara bristled as Cyrus got between them, but she didn’t stop him. Instead she looked beyond him and set her gaze on her sister, “I chose you, Lene. You’re going to the Sunwell tomorrow. This ends, one way or another. Have a plan.”

Ada opened her mouth to respond, but Cyrus shoved her out the door. “You’ve said enough.”

She spun around to face him as she was pushed out the door, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“What do you think your doing? Lene, snap out of it.”

“Ari’s right. She believes she’s so much better than us. She’s the one who drained a Naaru and put her training over her family. She’s the one who abandoned Mother to Outland.”

“You know it’s more complicated than that.”

Ada’Lene slid onto a nearby bench and watched the glass pavilion. Through the rose stained glass she could see Nara’s outline standing as still as a statue. Her posture was straight and rigid and her back was turned towards the door. Nara wouldn’t come after her, it wasn’t the way her older sister did things. Lene sighed and with the sun warming her, the voices whispers subsided. She slumped forward and put her head in her hands. “By the Light, I am turning into my mother.”

Cyrus sat beside her. He didn’t say a word, he only pulled her close. This time, Lene didn’t fight it and leaned into him.

Weak.

The whispers creeped back into her head, they wouldn’t be extinguished so easily again. “I can’t do this.” Ada pulled away from Cyrus and took off along a narrow path away from the small neighborhood of pavilions. “Lene!” She heard Cyrus calling after her, and so she took longer, more determined strides deeper into the quieter, more secluded area of the garden. Where the trees were older and their heavy branches blocked out the sun. She needed just one moment of peace.

She followed the moss covered stones and even as she realized Cyrus had not given chase, Lene continued her frantic pace. Farther away, she needed to be farther away. Nearby priests greeted her but she could only manage a quick nod as she rushed under an arch made of thin green vines and wide golden leaves it was newer than the rest of the garden but forgotten.

They know what you are. They’re afraid of you. Afraid of the power you have, of your potential. Kill them all and show them you are not to be pitied. You’re not that same powerless girl that hid from her mother. If only you’d accepted our gift ...

Ada found what she was looking for: a massive sculpture of thorns and roses trimmed and pruned into the form of a Naaru. It had been tended to and shaped since M’uru sacrificed herself to save the Sin’dorei. Her thorns were thick and sharp. Ada seized a vine and all at once, several small thorns pricked her palm and Ada loosened her grip.

This is insanity.

Coward

She tightened her hold on the vine and the thorns dug deep into her palm. Blood welled up and slid down her hand in rhythm with the heartbeat in her ears. The whispers retreated to the back of her mind, cackling, as the pain flared in her hand and thrummed up her arm. Through the pain, Ada’Lene breathed a sigh of relief; her heart felt light again. She could feel a piece of herself trying to push free. The part of her that smiled and laughed, it was at the edge of her heart to remind her what she was fighting for. The darkness was there though, creating a wall between who she wanted to be and what she was. The small reminder crawled away as the thorns became more of a comfortable pain. She flexed her muscles to reignite it so she could coax the little spark of light deep inside of her back to the surface. The warm trickle of blood that slid beneath her sleeve was a small sacrifice for the moment of peace the pain produced.

“Ada!” A pair of strong arms grabbed her from behind and pried her hand off of the thorns she clung to. Lene panicked as the light began to slip away. She struggled in Cyrus’ grip and tried to grab the thorns again.

Just a few more moments.

“No! It was working!” Lene kicked him and with a grunt he released her. The whispers swarmed with rage and twisted her gut in knots.

See, what did we tell you? No one cares about what helps. They don’t want to be embarrassed. They’re ashamed of us.

Lene spun around in a fury but the single gold eye she met did not belong to the hunter she expected. They were far warmer and confused, “Kaivus?” Chest heaving, hands shaking, and hair in a red disheveled mess, she stared at him not believing what she was seeing. He’d come to the temple, but why? Nara wouldn’t have called him here. There was no reason to.

Ah, the letter...

Lene’s attention returned to her hand, it was smeared with blood and seeping more. She followed the stream of blood and watched it drip off her fingertips and fall onto the stone below. The small lantern on her hip had caught some of the blood and was already drying against the cool metal. Guilt struck her, she should have been better than this. She stared at the small lantern, devoid of light. It was better than facing the judgement she’d seen from everyone else come from Kaivus too.

What good are you to him? You can’t help him. You can’t save him anymore. Leave the saving to that little paladin nipping at his heels. Let this Light possessed fool be on his way. You’ll be much happier with us.

“Ada, you’re crying...”

Lene’s head snapped up at the sound of his voice. “What?” she touched her face and found her cheek wet with tears she hadn’t realized she’d shed. She used her sleeve to wipe them away. “I...” She started; she wanted to tell him she was alright, everything was fine. Everyone at the temple hugged rose bushes, didn’t he know? It’s why most priests were so prickly! It was tradition at this point, and he had nothing to be concerned about. Everything was completely fine and normal -- so what wounds could she heal for him today?

The jokes evaporated as soon as they sprung up in her mind, Lene knew her humor couldn’t hide her appearance: standing alone, bloody, crying and in complete disarray.

She looked insane. She was insane.

The whispers were right, it didn’t matter why Kaivus was here. She had nothing to offer him. There were no answers she could give him and she was far too lost to offer him guidance. It’d be better if she sent him away to Nara. Even Nara’s squire Kailee would be a better choice than her. The Void had rendered Lene useless and so she remained quiet, using the dull throb in her arm to ease the whispers away as best she could.

Kaivus closed the distance between them which forced Lene to look at him. She was surprised to see him full of concern. Not the kind that lended itself to pity, nor the kind that pressed for final goodbyes. It was concern for concern’s sake with that hummingbird trademarked spark of hope shining behind it and the whispers which were simmering in her heart were squashed. It was the same look he had for her back in Gadgetzan. She didn’t remember much of her time there, but she did remember him.

Kaivus picked up her hand and studied the torn and bloody flesh. “Is it that bad?”

Lene nodded, “Yeah.” She gently pulled her hand from his and pulled out a roll of bandages from one of the small pockets in her robes. “I’m going to the Sunwell tomorrow, so all of this will be over soon.” Lene fumbled with the bandages, she never was good with her right hand and the way the whispers had shaken her made her movements even more cumbersome. “I’ll get this Void infection purged and I’ll be back to healing your broken toes in no time -- Damnit!” She cursed as the bandages refused to stay in place and the roll slipped between her fingers. Kaivus caught them before they could completely unravel and took her bloody hand in his.

Use us, you don’t need those primitive methods. We’ll stop the bleeding, stop the pain. We’re here for you Ada’Lene. Let us give you purpose.

“I won’t!”

“Ada, let me help.” The calm in Kaivus’ voice pierced the cacophony of whispers and once again planted Lene’s feet firmly on the ground. Being pulled back from the anger the whispers insighted was like breaching the surface of water and taking a fresh gulp of fresh air after almost drowning. Her emerald eyes fell on Kaivus, ready to apologize. Her outburst had been sudden, but he wasn’t afraid and his smile lingered as a small crease on either side of his mouth, “I need to clean it first, right?” He held out his free hand and waited for Lene to hand over the bandages he knew she carried.

“Thank you, Hummingbird.” She was tired, she could feel the tears in her throat this time, beckoning to be let loose in a tsunami of anger and frustration. Kaivus wiped the blood off her fingers, taking a little too much care to avoid the deep thorn pricks. He cleaned where the blood had flowed over her palm. Lene watched as his nose scrunched up with extra focus as he tried to wrap her hand. She laughed, “When did you learn this?”

“A while ago… maybe?” His guilt made Lene grin, Kaivus used the bandages to apply pressure to the wound. She watched him pause and scratch his chin several times before making adjustments and increasing the pressure around the deepest part. It wasn’t perfect but it was far better than she could do at the moment. “I’ve been watching you, and practicing.”

“No, twist the bandage over the wrist. You’ll get more pressure -- yeah, that’s good.” He secured the bandage and focused on rerolling the others. “So, all those times I came to patch you up, you could have done it yourself?” She gave his shoulder a playful shove, eliciting a shy laugh from Kaivus.

“Well, yes -- but -- I just wanted to make sure it was done right. You would have just corrected me anyway!”

“I feel very betrayed right now. I woke up from very productive napping for you!”

“What a sacrifice it must have been.”

“It was.” The two of them shared a laugh. It was hard not to feel better with Kaivus. His enthusiasm was infections, even Qeld and Lahk had a hard time frowning around him-- and frowning was basically their favorite hobby. She glanced passed him and saw a stack of books dropped and strewn beneath the archway behind him. A little pang of guilt jolted through her. “Why are you here, Hummingbird? Does this visit have to do with your Light?” She helped him collect the books. The covers were embossed with titles Lene was familiar with. Some were wild stories about the Old Gods and titans. Fairy tales. There was just one book she didn’t recognize but it seemed to be more of the same, except it was from a journal of a historical records. Lene waited for an answer from Kaivus, and his his cheeks turned a soft shade of red as he took the books from her.

“No… I mean yes -- but more importantly, I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened to you at the Exodar. Then, I came across an old childhood story my mother used to tell me. It reminded me of another story I’d heard, and so I started digging. Maybe, it could help?” Kaivus, with the books safe in his arms, left the little alcove and walked back towards the warmer parts of the garden. Lene stepped beside him with a smile; she showed him the cover of a book at the top of the small pile in his arms. It was a traditional story about an old god who stole a princess and was eventually slain by prince charming. Leya had loved that story as a child, “So, you want to be my prince? Prince Windfire or Prince Hummingbird?” a little shock of excitement jolted up her spine, “Prince Hummingbird is definitely meant for storybooks.”

The red in his cheeks deepened as he stumbled over his words. Lene felt her smile growing. The moment with the whispers had passed and for the first time in awhile, she was absorbed in watching Kaivus stumble and blush his way through the conversation. “Not at all! I mean, I do want to help, and fairy tales are sometimes rooted in a kernel of truth.” He gave an exasperated sigh and sat on a bench, “Just look.” Lene sat beside him and he handed her one of the books opened to a bookmarked page. He took the other books and opened them too, balancing them on his lap and handing a few others over for Lene to deal with. She skimmed the text as she listened, “All of these stories are about people who were possessed by the Void and had the corruption removed or destroyed by some sort of stone.”

“It’s an interesting connection,” Lene admitted, but looked at the books with a bit of skepticism, “But it’s not uncommon. You can find fairy tales that are similar between us and the trolls. It doesn’t mean they’re true, it means our cultures have had a lot of interaction. War, in this case.”

Kaivus leaned across her to point at a text Ada had in her lap, “This one is Shal’dorei, I had to get Thal to translate it for me.” He gestured to the one in his lap, “And this one is Tauren, and the one in your hand is the most recent text I’ve found, from a human. Three cultures, who didn’t interact with each other until recently, all with similar stories which date back well before they began to communicate with one another.”

Lene studied the books again and fell quiet. His hunch was just that, a hunch. Most of his sources were fairy tales, and the only historical account he had was a minor mention -- a sentence which would have easily been forgotten if Kaivus hadn’t been looking for it. It wasn’t anything to be excited about; yet he had come all the way here to share it with her. He believed in this and if she were honest with herself, she was excited.

A plan

A plan born of desperation and denial. Ada’Lene, don’t entertain this Lightbound fool. You know we’re stuck together, you and I.

“You don’t think I should… learn how to control it?”

Kaivus looked a little dumbfounded by her question, but he barely skipped a beat in his answer, “That’s giving up.” He said it as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. But to Kaivus it was, it was always so easy for him. “And that’s not what we’ve worked this hard and this long to do. But most importantly, living in the Void, isn’t what you want. So, we find another way. It’s that simple.”

She should have expected that answer. Save everyone, be the hero.

The confidence in his smile sent Lene into a fit of laughter. Kaivus was unable to be anything other than himself. The books threatened to spill onto the ground, she had to catch them before they went sliding off her lap. She held them tight and let her eyes meet his. Her laughter softened at the sight of his smile; he hadn’t changed, not one bit. It was her who had changed. “Trying to prove and track down a fairy tale is simple?”

“We’ve done more impossible things.”

Lene dropped her gaze to the book in her lap. Her bandaged fingertips gently traced the embossed etching across the leather cover. She set the books aside and turned towards Kaivus who was still looking at her with a soft, confident gaze. She pulled him into a tight hug. His whole body tensed beneath her touch but as he relaxed, he pulled her into a warm embrace. Lene rested her chin on his shoulder, “Thank you.” She released him, sitting closer to him than she had been. Kaivus’ gaze shied away from hers when he realized their closeness and he rubbed the back of his neck, tanking more interest in a few flowers across the way. In the quiet of the garden, he cleared his throat and his soft golden eye found its way back to her. He smiled and let out a soft laugh.

He was the same Kaivus she’d been taking care of for well over a year. Hopeful, determined, and barely able to walk on a flat surface without hurting himself. He was Qeld’s brother and someone whose company she enjoyed. She’d never thought much beyond that, not until recently. Gadgetzan, and the day at the beach urged her to look at him differently. Lene had wanted to avoid it, she tried, but this shy, compassionate person in front of her was making it impossible. He was clumsily pulling on her heartstrings in a way no one else had.

She closed and stacked a few of the books in her lap. “Alright, let’s do it. If … if something goes wrong, we’ll look into this. ”

Kaivus snapped back to attention. “Really?”

“Yes, but you have to promise me we’ll do this together. I don’t want you dying under a stack of books, alone.”

“Deal, but you have to promise you’ll stop hurting yourself.” He looked at her hand, some blood had already seeped through the wrap, but it was healing. “If the whispers become bad, you can talk to me. I’ll remind you how wrong they are.”

Ada laughed, “I promise, but what if you’re not here?”

Kaivus shrugged, “Send for me. I’ll come.” his voice didn’t ring with the same hint of jest Lene’s had. He was being serious.

Ada’Lene stood, holding the books and looking at Kaivus with a grin. “I will make you regret that promise.”

We’ll make sure of it.

“I look forward to it.”

Ada’s cheeks grew a little warm and she rolled her eyes, “Why don’t we go have lunch and spend some time going over these stories. You can catch me up on your theories.” Kaivus agreed and the two of them walked the narrow mossy stone path together. Lene stayed beside him as they conversed and laughed The whispers continued to swarm her mind, they hated Kaivus. It made Lene want to keep him closer.

Do you really think you can control this? Think about what you did to your sister. You’ll do it to him, just give us time. We’ll make the little runt fear you.

Lene tried to push the whispers away as they dug into her insecurities, but what they said was true. Eventually, the Void would get to her again, like it had with Nara. It always did. She would do or say something to Kaivus she couldn’t take back. She’d hurt him.

Her chest tightened at the possibility. Kaivus was smiling at her as he talked about the port and his new projects, much of the details she’d missed. Consumed more by the Void’s taunts and threats. Kaivus caught her gaze, there was a soft nod of understanding and without hesitation back tracked and started explaining again, the warm smile on his face never faltering. This time, Lene made sure to listen.

Kaivus had so much ambition; he was turning his father’s port into an international sanctuary. He wasn’t dividing the docks between Horde and Alliance. He was throwing them all together in one big messy stew to prove they could work together, with a bit more understanding. It was dangerous, and Lene foresaw a lot of growing pains. It would take more than his two hands to handle it all, but as always, Kaivus seemed unconcerned and more focused on the big picture.

She was going to ruin it.

You’ll become a burden to him. He’ll resent you for this.

The Void pulled on the strings of anxiety again and it must have shown. Kaivus’ excited smile softened. He pushed the whispers away with a playful jab of his elbow. “They’re wrong.”

At least someone wasn’t going to let her go without a fight.

~ ~ ~

The sun was barely a pink stripe on the horizon as Lene rolled out of bed and dressed herself for the Sunwell. It was a long flowing white robe, draped with a red and gold sash. An initiate’s robe. She adjusted the sash so it sat evenly, pausing to caress the soft silk between her fingertips.

I haven’t worn one of these since I was a girl.

She straightened the golden edged bell-sleeves that draped over her knuckles and were stitched into intricate lacing meant to represent the same curves and edges of a Naaru. The thread kept the lacing from falling apart and was enchanted with enough magic to make the edges glow with a soft golden light which circled her hands and again at her feet.

You will regret this.

She ran a hand though her vibrant red hair in a weak attempt to tame it. As always it had a mind of it’s own and even after a good brush it was a wavy mess around her shoulders and a stray piece fell in front of her Fel stained eyes. Unlike many of the other Sin’dorei, Lene’s had never changed. Hers were a relic of a time she wished to forget.

The Light abandoned you then, it’s abandoning you now. Yet here we are, loyal as ever and you wish to purge us. What kind of person does that make you, Ada’Lene Lightweaver? Ungrateful.

She stood in the stillness of her room. The wound from yesterday throbbed and itched beneath her bandage. She tried to pull on the Light to heal it, but nothing came. Only the Void responded with its slithering whispers.

Let us help. This ritual is a farce, only the Void knows the true way of the world.

There was a loud knock on her door, “Lene, let’s go.” Her sister was small but her voice carried like she were in the room with her. Lene hands straightened her robes one last time before she met Nara at the door. She stood outside, her back to Lene’s roomas if she were guarding it.

She probably was.

She glanced over her shoulder and up at Lene. Next to Ari, Lene was the tallest of the Lightweavers and it was rare when Lene let Nara forget it. Today was no different as Lene shot her sister a knowing grin and it was met with one of Nara’s icy glares.

They walked the halls in silence. The stained glass windows reflected the morning sun in colors of rose, blue and gold onto the emptied tiled halls. The Temple was asleep, there were a few elderly priests shuffling towards the kitchens, and a few cooks arriving to prepare breakfast, with those exceptions, Nara and Lene were alone.

“About yesterday…” Lene began but Nara quickly cut her off with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“It’s fine, Lene.”

“No.” She said, “It wasn’t. I know you did your best when it came to Mother. I lost control, and it won’t happen again.”

“It’s done.” Nara grunted and turned a sharp corner and the two moved down a long steep ramp. As they moved into the inner sanctum of the Temple, the density of people began to increase. Guards stood at every entrance, heavily armed and they saluted Nara as they passed. There were priests in long ceremonial robes decorated with ornate collars and sleeves scurrying about, gathering items, preparing rituals, or organizing books. Seeing Lene, they paused to stare; she was an anomaly. The choice of the Void had not been given to her. It’s curse was simply thrust upon her. It made the other priests suspicious -- a Ren’dorei in the making. They pitied her as well -- a once gifted, young priest brought down by the very beings she fought against. Lene refused to meet any of their gazes, this was the end of it. She’d walk out of here with the balance of the Light and Void restored to her. Even if she didn’t, there was the artifact from Kaivus’ tales. She wasn’t a Ren’dorei and she wasn’t to be pitied, she had options.

In a child’s fairy tale book.

I must be desperate.

The Sunwell lit up it’s room with a warm golden light which mimicked the sun on a warm spring day. The statues which once revered Kael’thas, had been removed or covered with long flowing red drapes and now had the symbol of Silvermoon stitched into them. The priests said the Sunwell belongs to all Sin’dorei. Yet, since Alleria’s visit, that had become more limited. It was not only available to those who seeked meditation and prayer. Should the Void come anywhere near it, and the priests would do all they could to keep them at bay. Without Nara, it was likely Lene would have gone insane before being allowed into the room.

Nara dismissed the inner sanctum guards, leaving the two sisters alone. “I’ll be right here.” though Nara spoke quietly, the echo of her voice sounded off the high ceiling and seemed to come from all sides. Lene gave her sister a soft nod and slipped off the white cloth slippers on her feet before she approached the Sunwell. The warm light rose and licked the edges of the pool in playful, soft swirls of Light. At her approach, the small wisps did not retract but swirled around her ankles, inviting her into the pool. The Void snaked through her mind and squeezed her heart, a shiver ran up her spine as she felt it recoil in disgust. She hesitated like she was being held back at the shoulder by a strong hand. The Void pushed all of her fears and worries to the front of her mind. She felt the overwhelming need to turn and run. This was a fool’s errand. The Light was going to kill her, not help her. Nara was right, she should just learn to control the shadows. She’d be better off.

They’re wrong

Lene fought through the thoughts and took her first step into the well. Her defiance was met with sharp papercut pain through her skull. She stumbled, but persisted towards the deepest part of the pool.

YOU BITCH, YOU WILL SUFFER FOR YOUR INSOLENCE!

The warm light lapped at her hips and curled around her arms. “Hello old friend.” There were sharp stabs of pain still reverberating in her mind, small warning shots. Lene took a deep, controlled breath, “I kind of need your help right now…”

For a long time, nothing happened. The Light did as it had, soft gentle swirls rose up and gracefully fell back into the pool. The pain receded and was replaced with an echoing chuckle.

What did we tell you? The Light is playing games with you, Ada’Lene.

Lene caught her sister’s watchful gaze. Nara didn’t move from her station, but Lene could see the worry. She’d been apprehensive about bringing Lene here, but neither of them considered the possibility that nothing would happen. Lene’s heart hung heavy; the Light had gone still, it flowed around her like rushing water and no longer reached up to brush against nor did it playfully dance between her fingers.

With no more words left in her, Lene waded back towards her sister. It had been a failure beyond her expectations. The Light didn’t even want to save her, the Void won and had dug it’s tendrils far too deep for even the Light to counter. The whispers were right, she belonged to them.

Submit.

The sound of armor against tile drew Lene from the waves of doubt. Nara was running towards her. Lene stopped, knee deep in the well. The Temple was the safest place in Silvermoon and her sister looked at her like she had sleep-walked onto a battlefield. She may not have the Light, but Lene was not defenseless. The power of the Void rushed to her fingertips as she faced whatever it was Nara was rushing to get her away from.

It was the Light

An immense, snaking pillar of Light.

“Nara, no!” Lene yelled back towards her sister and she halted at the edge of the pool. The power in her hands fizzled out, what was only a short moment felt like minutes as she and the towering font of Light considered each other. “It’s ok.” There was an understanding between them, it didn’t have eyes, a form, or gestures, but Lene knew. The Light had been with her for as long as she could remember. She knew it’s ebbs and flows as well as she knew her own, and this time it meant to fix her. She felt empty without it after the destruction of the Sunwell, and she felt that same emptiness now, even as the Void tried to fill it.

The Light was warm, but it wasn’t kind.

It hit Lene with such force that it threw her into the air. The weight of the Light was strangling, but she didn’t fight it. Lene’s muscles tightened as the Void pulsed in panic just beneath the skin. Her ears rung with indecipherable whispers of the Void and loud chimes of the Naaru, though they sounded more like nails on a chalkboard. When the Light finally managed to push the Void away, it disappeared from the outside and Lene hit the ground. Her body shook in pain, its own contained war zone between the Light of the Sunwell and the Void.

Her mind exploded into shards of searing pain, the Light and Void tore through her so quickly she hadn’t the time to discern what was happening. The sounds of the temple became muffled, her vision blurred. She could barely hear her own screams as she rolled onto her back and clutched her head, unable to carry the weight of the pain which swam through her. Nara’s boots sounded in the distance, but she was too paralyzed to stop her.

Let them fight, she wanted to scream.

Let it happen. Nara grabbed Lene by the arms and started to drag her away from the pool. She was talking, but the sound of her blood in her ears superseded the other sounds for her to make out anything her sister was trying to say. As she was pulled away, the Void screamed in the pitch of an angry harpy and the Light rang like a bell in her ears. Lene opened her eyes to see a blurred vision of her sister, bent over her and talking to her, though she didn’t know what she was saying.

Everything stopped all at once. The pain, the rush of Light and Void that filled it faded away so fast that every piece of her felt tired, like she was dead weight in Nara’s arms. She tried to grab Lene’s attention, but she still couldn’t hear Nara. So, her sister gently hit her cheeks and gave her a firm shake, but Lene could do nothing except fade away.

~ ~ ~

Lene woke up to the sound of rain and a pounding in her head. Small flashes of memory blinked in and out of her mind. The Light, the whispers, and her sister. She groaned, the mattress beneath her was hard and unforgiving against her back. Her muscles screamed for her to lie back down as she sat up in bed. Her muscles were stiff and her head screamed in pain, she would have given in to the demand for more sleep had Nara not grabbed her and helped her up.

“Finally, you’re awake.” Nara sat on a small stool beside the bed, there were stacks of paper on a small desk on the other side of the room along with a half eaten lunch.

Lene rubbed her face and fluffed her hair, “How long have I been out.”

“Two days.”

“Two days?!” Lene winced as the sound of her own loud voice caused a nice thrum of pain to echo in her head. Nara got up to pour her a cup of water.

“Yes, whatever happened at the Sunwell took a lot out of you.” She handed her sister the cup of water and sat on the edge of the bed with her. “Did it work?”

Lene’s head was silent. She couldn’t hear or feel the susserations of the Void creeping around her mind. She looked over at the small Lantern at her bedside, radiating the soft, warm energy of the Light. She took a sip of water and set the cup aside. Her heart pounded in her ears and a nervous shiver ran up her spine. She held her hands out infront of her, just one spell. One flicker of Light was all she’d need to produce to know for certain that her sanity had been restored. One spark of Light and she’d have a talk with Kaivus. A real one. She just needed to prove that she wasn’t going to hurt him. She could still protect him, she was still Ada’Lene.

One spark.

She pulled on the power that lay dormant at her fingertips. It came with a ease as it always had and she could feel the tendrils of power, wrap around her arms, ready to release from her hands in a small, midnight ball. Lene’s blood ran cold as she saw the power that swirled in her hands. There was a sudden boom of cascading laughter that overtook her thoughts. The familiar, crazed laughter of her mother danced through her mind.

Lene’s hands shook and the tears were hot on her cheeks. “No.”

“Lene…” Nara spoke to her at a distance as Lene’s reality started to fall into place. “It’s alright.”

“No!” The ball of shadow disintegrated in her hands and she threw her cup across the small room, the rage at her failure overpowering her for a brief moment. The Void relished in it’s victory and the Light of the small lantern next to her bed flickered out and slowly, the whispers were dulled to more familiar, dull chuckles.

“Lene.” Nara’s voice was a a little sterner as she spoke, “Take a breath, calm down and --”

There was a sudden bang on her door and a jostle of the door knob. Ada jolted upright as she heard a familiar muffled voice from the other side. “Ada, are you awake? Are you alright?!”

“Kaivus?”

The look of annoyance on Nara’s face was clear as Kaivus’ voice rang through the thick wooden door. “Lord Windfire has been stopping by to check on you multiple times a day. I’ve tried to run him off but he’s been persistent.”

If the whispers become bad, you can talk to me.

“Let him in.” Lene threw the blankets off her and strode over to the closest to grab a fresh gown.

“What? No. You’re not even dressed.”

“I don’t care open the door.” Lene stepped out of the gown she had worn to the Sunwell and pulled a fresh, dark green dress from the closet. She clutched the gown in her hands as her attention flickered towards the door.

“Lady Ada’Nara?” Kaivus called out again.

“You can see her in a moment, Lord Windfire.” Nara snapped at the young pup yapping on the other side of the door. “What are you doing?”

The void boiled in the back of her mind. It had been wounded but she could feel it’s heels digging in. Laying claim. A pang of fear hit her, she couldn’t do this to him. She’d sworn to Qeld that she’d look after him, and she wouldn’t let the Void try to twist and manipulate her feelings. It was better to swallow them for a little while. Lene pulled a small golden belt around her waist and grabbed a brush. “You wanted a plan. We have one.”

“You and… Lord Windfire have a plan?” Her sister looked un-amused as Lene let her wild red locks hang freely around her face. “And what plan might that be?”

She picked up a small book next to her bed. One that she’d taken from Kaivus after their stroll in the park. She gave it to her sister before stepping around her and unlocking the door. “Have you heard of The Void Lord and Princess Ferra’nah?”

#WoW #world of warcraft #creative writing #Writing #fanfiction #original Characters #original writing #Adalene Lightweaver #Kaivus Windfire #Blood Elves #sin'dorei #sindorei #Silvermoon #The Sunwell #Interlude #RP #wow rp #Void #Whispers

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aced0g · 6 years ago

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Bruuuhhh there's so many good questions, so I'll ask the most of them. 1-5, 8, 11, 13-18, and 23? ((Sorry if thats a lot lol

[well shit now I actually want to make this a fully fledged self insert oc] from the if you were inquisitor ask meme https://aced0g.tumblr.com/post/183449602162/lesbiansten-if-you-were-inquisitor-ask-meme

1. Race:

-I could be really boring and just stick with human but I honestly think I’d be like half Qunari half elf maybe? Like if you made a qunari shorter and a twink. Horns would probably be the ones that go straight back.

2. Class/Specialization:

-While I’d love to do magic I just don’t think I would have it (probably also wouldn’t be a good mix lol volatile emotions and magic=big problems). SO I’d be a rogue. I’ve always been silent enough to just “appear” behind someone and accidentally freak people out plus I really really like knives. idk they’re really cool. Specialization oof probably tempest because I’m not good at crafting things and with tempest you can at least feel like you’re using magic.

3. Your homeland?

- Probably Ostwick just cause there aren’t too many Qunari out in Ferelden and at least the Free Marches have seen Qunari before.

4. Your family?

-Father would be Qunari tal vashoth who broke free and set up his own bakery out in Ostwick. Mother would be a city elf who’s good at working in the forge. Would have a little sister who’s probably going to be a minstrel. Also kind of estranged from them all, like they write but he wouldn’t want to worry them with his travels. Theres also another sibling but we don’t talk about him ever :)

5. Who were you before?

-Before Inquisition? Probably just on his own trying to forge his own path. An aspiring author who can’t think of anything to write so he takes up odd jobs here and there. Sometimes hes a merc, other times he’s making bread, then sometimes he’s giving tattoos. He was never really someone important. 8. Your opinion on other races?

-Humans he thinks are alright, they’re quick to judge based off of looks and can either be huge assholes or pretty chill. City elves are treated horribly and they need a break, someone to speak up for them. Dalish elves stay secluded and he understands why. They’re fierce warriors though and he respects the hell out of them. Surface Dwarves are usually pretty chill, a fun crowd that could drink you under the table if you try. The Carta suck ass but you just don’t get involved with them. He’s never met the dwarves from Orzamar so he has no opinion. With Qunari usually Tal Vashoth are chill, there are assholes who just want blood and murder but that isn’t just limited to Qunari hes met plenty of humans just like that. He didn’t meet a Qunari that was actually part of the Qun until Iron Bull and at first he was honestly terrified. You hear so many stories of what they do that it leaves you scared which doesn’t help when you already have paranoia and ptsd. (don’t worry eventually he and bull become really good friends)

11. Where would you hang out in Skyhold?

Honestly? Either the library or his quarters. He’s got a lot of social anxiety and he likes quiet so he’d end up making his own little section in the library where he can just read or draw or write, and if its a really bad day he just stays in his quarters until he’s needed13. What armor would you wear?-Oof most of the armor for Rogues is pretty ugly in my opinion. I’ll tell you what this boy would be caught in, black pants and leather boots, he’d be wearing like a black and green flannel shirt with some leather bracers on his arms and like fingerless leather gloves for his hands (they’d also be compressing both wrists cause boy got shitty wrists). He’d also have a leather jacket and a scarf around his neck. (also he wears glasses or else he’s blind as shit for distance stuff)14. What would your room look like?

-Honestly its pretty bare bones. Maybe a few bookshelves that barely hold any books. A few trinkets like a mabari figurine or some crafts his family made for him. The rest would just be his wardrobe, knives and writing/drawing supplies. His bed would be simple, big enough to hold two people but no more. Theres about three blankets on the bed, the bed is always made and he sleeps on top of that and grabs a spare blanket to cover himself at night. He also has a bunch of pillows. The rest of it is a dog bed and a bunch of dog toys for his mabari mutt.15. Who would be your friends at Skyhold?

-I’d like to say he’d be good friends with Varric, Sera, Dorian, Bull, and Cole, maybe Cullen too. It takes a while for everyone to warm up, but the gays get along really fast so he gravitates to them initially and then Varric is like the dad friend and he likes to write too so there are plenty of late nights with the Inquisitor just info dumping about story ideas and character ideas with Varric and its fun. With Cole he was initially a little scared of the spirit but then it turns into a really great friendship and he’d think of Cole as a brother. Plus Cole is great for helping him calm down when he’s having a panic attack. 16. Would you have any friends outside of the Inquisition?

-No. He’s shit at making friends and tends to stay alone than try to make friends. It has a lot to do with his trauma, being told that he was never going to have friends that he wasn’t worth it, so he just doesn’t try. Whenever he was with a group for an extended period of time they would get friendly but he’d never really keep in contact and so no friends. Well he has one, his mabari mutt Mahogany or Huggy for short, but he’s with the Inquisitor so it doesn’t really count. 17. Who wouldn’t you get along with?

-While I love Cassandra and Vivienne’s characters I don’t think I’d actually get along with them. I’m not religious and I don’t like acting all important, so as Inquisitor this boy would probably be Vivienne’s worst nightmare of just dressing in flannel when he’s at Skyhold and Cassandra’s because he doesn’t support the Templars and doesn’t give a shit about the Chantry or the Divine (not in a rude way but he just doesn’t care about it). I think he’d try to be polite at least but I don’t think they’d get along. 18. Who would you romance?

-Mmmm that’s a really hard decision for me because Im stuck between choosing Bull or Dorian. They both have amazing qualities and I love them both so much, but I think just because being a Qunari the inquisitor would be initially more hesitant about being around Bull I’d go with Dorian. Dorian and the Inquisitor would have a lot of personal hurt that they could help each other with and spend a lot of time just cuddling and talking through the night. The inquisitor would get very protective of Dorian during battles and probably get a little self sacraficey. 23. What would be on your tombstone in the fade (What are you afraid of)?

-Honestly? its a toss up between himself and dying alone

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wolfdancer333 · 7 years ago

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Poppy Coffee Prompt

Here’s the number on my list that this came from: 7) Unnatural obsession with getting Branch to kiss her under the mistletoe

Note: This is a multi-shot fic however this is only one chapter! I wanted to post it for @geekgirles as they requested Broppy.....And here is Broppy! ^_^ Hope you have a good day tomorrow!

This prompt is made in collaboration with @duskblue-art and we shall release the full versions......One day, so keep your eyes peeled! And prepare to be....BROPPIED!! ;) <3

Branch took a sip of the red wine as he glanced out at the party in full swing. He could see Poppy – his eyes always found her no matter where he may have bee looking – twirling on the dance floor of her Dad’s ballroom in a bright red dress, red heels with white fur trim, and red gloves that went up to her elbows, also with that white fur trim. She was dancing with her friends, Guy mostly, and Branch could hear their chattering laughter all the way up at the top balcony. On either side were two staircases that led to the ballroom and Branch leaned his elbows on edge, holding his glass of wine with a fond smile.

He watched Poppy bump Guy with her hip – the drama Queen he was – and Guy, pretending to be seriously injured, flew back with a cry into DJ – whom he instantly swept up into a dance, her sputtering making even Branch chuckle. Biggie had his large camera around his neck, Mr. Dinkles, the oddly weird rainbow guinea pig, wrapped around his front wearing a festive little Santa hat. He found Satin and Chenille easily and rolled his eyes at their flair.

The two wore matching outfits and if it weren’t for their hair colour he was sure he would have had trouble telling them apart. He took another sip of wine as he looked them over with approval. They knew how to dress, that was for sure. They both wore ankle length red dresses with two slits up both sides that ended at their upper thighs. The back had a white, fur-lined hood that they were wearing down at the moment. The two twins were chatting on the dance floor, pointing and laughing at DJ as she seemed to be now fighting desperately to remove herself from Guy, who was turning it into a dance only the more.

Smidge looked like the only normal dressed one of them all. Being the shortest, she wore quite a modest red dress with green trim at the hem. She also wore, Branch nearly spat out his wine, an elf hat and he knew, with a glance at Poppy, that she had convinced her. A kindred soul. Seems he wasn’t the only one Poppy could convince to do whatever she asked. Though her ways with him were more, uh, private. With a blush, he coughed and took a bigger swallow of wine.

This was his third glass and though he had promised himself only one, he found he rather liked the stuff. And Poppy’s Dad only got the best for his daughter’s parties. Branch flagged a waiter over carrying a tray with wine glasses. He set his empty one down, grabbed a new one, and nodded the man off. He smiled and nodded back before disappearing into the crowd gathered at the foot of the stairs. Finally, his eyes fell on Cooper and his eyes went wide as he nearly dropped his wine glass. The man was crazy! He was wearing a hat with two large, brown felt antlers with some golden bells. He was shirtless – Branch couldn’t remember ever seeing Cooper voluntarily without a shirt – and only had on these brown, velvety pants that had a –

Branch squinted, trying to see if what he thought he was seeing was correct. And only sweatdropping when he realized he was. A small, poofy brown tail. Cooper had a reindeer tail. Branch found this funny and actually laughed so hard, he had tears in the corner of his eyes. He wiped them away and found his meeting Peppy’s. The man himself was staring dead at him, a soft smile that made Branch weary yet oddly happy. He had struggled to earn Peppy’s trust, as the man had seen what Creep – a unanimous nickname among the Snack Pack now – had done to Poppy. And the fact Branch broke her nose their first meeting didn’t help.

But he simply lifted a hand in greeting with a small smile. Peppy grinned and nodded, before turning back to the people he had been talking to before zeroing in on Branch. He breathed a sigh of relief and took a swig of wine again. He noticed even some of their old high school teachers had shown up. There was Sky Toronto, the teacher that Branch had butted heads with the most during their high school days.

They met eyes and Branch, making sure no one else was looking, - particularly Poppy and Peppy – flipped him off. Sky only rolled his eyes and turned his suit clad back to Branch, which somehow made him feel like he lost that battle of wills. Gritting his teeth he gave another finger before leaning back on the balcony and looking out at the party. It was beautifully decorated. And he looked at Poppy with another fond smile.

She usually chose to do it herself and she had really outdone herself. Red ribbon was tied around every staircase going down with a bright green bow at the end. Little golden bells hung between each column on the steps and there were streamers mixed of red, green, gold, and silver all hung around the room from the ceiling. Along with large and small snowflakes that glittered from the ceiling, he also noticed – he wasn’t blind, who wouldn’t notice it? - the giant, lush Christmas tree right in the middle of the mansion, where the dancers all danced around it. It was the most extravagant of it all.

Bright, green and so tall it almost touched the ceiling, the tree was covered in everything imaginable. Streamers of all colours, tinsel in all colours, bells, baubles, carved figurines from Peppy’s woodworking days, and the most beautiful? It was covered in glittering frames filled with picture after picture of the years of Poppy’s life. All her friends photos were on there, her mom and Dad’s wedding photos, her baby pictures, her Mom’s last picture in the hospital, Poppy’s first day of school. Everything about her life was there and he felt his heart beat quicker when he saw a photo he hadn’t know had even been taken.

Poppy had first met him and he realized, with a glare at Biggie’s platinum white hair, that the man had been coerced by Poppy to snap it. She had grabbed his arm, linking hers through it, walking with him on the way to school. He was looking down at her with a look of horror, panic, disgust, and he wasn’t even sure what to call that facial expression his mouth was making. He winced. Not his most attractive moment. But it was cancelled all out by Poppy’s smile up at him. Of course, Poppy and Branch hadn’t known the coffee shop hadn’t been their meeting.

All through the years, they hadn’t remembered each other. Until that moment when Creek’s ugly as sbrought them back to each other. And yeah, maybe he could be a bit grateful to the ass. He sipped his wine, tapping his fingers against the balcony to the beat of the Christmas tune. It was an old song, All I Want For Christmas, and it had been his Grandma’s favourite. He remembered her playing it every Christmas and with a roll of his eyes, there was only person he had entrusted that information to.

But when his eyes sought her on the dance floor, he felt his heart heave when he couldn’t find that head of pink hair. Okay, first, call the cops! Then, make a missing person report. Then…..Bang on every door until he found her! He spun, prepared to go and call the cops and find his girlfriend, when he was met with wide eyes, a too-wide grin, that fucking pink hair, and her dilated magenta eyes. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with one hand at the oncoming headache.

“How much?”

Poppy held up two fingers, frowned at those fingers, then held up both her hands and Branch smacked his own forehead. “Lots!”

“Poppy, we’ve talked about this…..You don’t do well on coffee. It –“

When he opened his eyes, his words died. She was awfully close, having stepped up between his legs. She was looking up at him with lidded eyes and a gentle half smile that made his blood pump so fast, he felt dizzy. She leaned a tad closer, placing one hand on his chest, rubbing a thumb into the silk material of his black and red suit.

“Hmmm…...But you won’t be complaining later about the stamina.”

He blushed so dark, he probably turned black like his suit. He blushed so hard all the blood to his head made him yelp at the pressure in his head – or maybe Poppy made him yelp? He happened to notice with a quick glance of his eyes around the balcony that it was now completely empty and his paranoia kicked in. He looked down at Poppy with narrowed eyes. She was up to something, he knew it, he could feel it.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, her body falling flush into his and was rewarded rather smugly with a dark blush of her own. He whispered, “I don’t need coffee to last.”

Poppy blinked with wide eyes at the daring statement that Branch had made and he smirked to see her in shock. He didn’t like saying things in public like that and when he noticed people staring at their flush positions from the floor, Branch immediately coughed and let her go. But Poppy wasn’t having any of it. She moved toward him again but he dodged her outstretched hand, moving quickly behind her.

She yelped and spun, biting her lip but it was too late. He had seen what her other had behind her back and he held up a hand, his face dark and eyes narrow. “No, Poppy. No.”

Poppy pouted, pulling the mistletoe out from behind her and shuffling her feet and damn it if Branch didn’t want to rush over and just lift her up, hold her, and kiss her until she forgot how to make him feel this way. But he held his ground. Determined not to let her win, he took a large step backward. Poppy watched his foot. Then when she looked up, Branch instantly started backing up, step after step as he held up his hands. His eye went wide at her maniacal look.

“Noww, Poppy, we talked about this….!”

She lunged and Branch screamed. He screamed like his greatest fear had come to life and turned, running down the steps so fast, he nearly tripped. The guests had all moved away from the tree and he turned, his back to the green foliage. Poppy was chasing him. In heels. Down stairs.

“Slow down idiot, you’ll –“

His words evaporated and he yelped, running away again as she flung herself at him, her lips puckered, and a laugh vibrating her lips. He ran around the tree, through the crowds, but no matter where he went she followed, her feet clicking behind him and her laughter echoing in his ears and wondered for just one insane second….Why wasn’t he kissing her again? And then there was a cry. Branch spun so fast he thought he could have broken his neck.

She was there, at the top of the balcony. She was on the ground, on her hands, with her feet unevenly splayed out on the steps. One heel of her red boots was snapped and he could hear the chatter below, the concern was tangible in the air. But no one felt it more than Branch. He rushed to her, falling to his knees, instantly grabbing at that broken heeled foot. He examined her ankle, pretending he didn’t hear her sniffles with a gutted heart.

Sighing, he turned to her. She was rubbing her eyes with one hand and though her smile was still there, it was dimmed significantly. And Branch suddenly didn’t care there were thousands of people there he did and didn’t know. It didn’t matter her friends were watching – and he didn’t know that Biggie was inching up the stairs, his camera poised. It didn’t matter that Peppy was watching with a knowing smile.

He placed a single hand beneath her jaw and tilted her head up. Just as her eyes had enough to meet his, he grabbed the mistletoe with his other hand. Holding it above their heads, he held her jaw, lowering his face quickly to hers. Their eyes stayed connected as he leaned in and he felt a flutter at the way her breath hitched and her hands tightened into fists. He felt his own eyes catch at the way her eyes darkened and her eyes fell to his lips.

He leaned so close, their lips were tingling yet not touching as he mumbled passionately, “You don’t need mistletoe to kiss me Poppy.”

Tossing it off the balcony, he grabbed her by her waist and pulled her to him just as his lips smashed into hers. As soon as their lips met in a frenzy, her hands went straight to grip into his black hair and pull him closer. He squeezes her, his hands palced on her hips, rubbing circles through her dress. And when her tongue brushes past his lips, he lets her, tilting her head back for a deeper kiss.

And he’s oblivious to the cheers of the party. He’s obllivious to Biggie who was a bawling mess. Guy and DJ were leaning against each other, holding hands, and grinning at the display. Guy even hollared a hoot but neither one heard him. Satin was grinning but Chenille was hiding her face in her sister’s shoulder with a deep blush. Smidge was frantically trying to calm Cooper from shouting and ruining the moment and comforting Biggie. He was oblivious to Peppy’s nervous, uncomfortable fidgeting with his cane.

But he did notice when a bright light caught his closed eye and the resounding ‘snap’ of a camera. He dislocated from Poppy’s lips who whined – and he did not find sexy! - and faced Biggie with a deep glare.

“That better not have been a picture!”

Bonus:

He couldn’t remember ever being speechless. Only a couple of times in his life did he ever find himself speechless. Besides the times in bed on Sundays with Poppy….He shook his head, straightening his posture with a cough at the random thought of his wife. His wife. He looked at the large tree situated in a park right next to the fated coffee shop where he was getting married to Poppy today. The benches behind him were wooden and intricately carved, with white ribbon tied all behind and through the aisles of the walkway. But it was the flowers. The flowers were all a rainbow of every colour because Poppy had said, and he quoted: “All colours were her favourite, how could she possibly pick just one!?”

And fuck, he had bought them all! He took a nervous, shaky breath as he waited for the music. If he turned now, he would be too nervous. He wanted to wait until she was walking towards him because her eyes would ground him. She would keep him from running away like he wanted to, and he couldn’t do that to Poppy! He didn’t want to run, he loved her, he wanted this – oh damn, he wanted this! But….He heard the quiet chatter of hundreds of people in those benches, her friends all at the front rows and he could hear their excited voices as they mumbled to each other.

What if he ran? Would she be mad? He sighed. Yeah, she would be mad. He would be a man, stay, and marry her. Marry the girl he loved with all his heart. After their very much heated kiss last Christmas, he had taken her back to his dingy little apartment where she always somehow managed to invade with her coffee addiction and filled every crack and crevice with her memory, and laid her on his bed. He remembered fondly the way she had called for him, their hands entangled. The way she had breathed against his neck and the way she had clutched him. He remembered that night so clear, as if it had been their first time.

He remembered, afterwards, her cuddled into his chest and rubbing soothing circles on his bare stomach, reaching over for his suit pants and taking out his gift for her. He had been nervous, naked, and definitely not prepared. But he had knelt, on his knee – because that’s what you did, right? - and held out that little tiny ring with the pink diamonds that had taken all his savings from his first day working at the coffee shop. And fucking coffee even paid for his fucking wedding ring! He had held it out and hadn’t even been able to ask her.

He couldn’t get the words out, kneeling there, naked, and more vulnerable somehow emotionally. But Poppy had taken a total of 2 seconds to see that ring, see him struggling to form words, and screamed. She lunged for him, sccreaming, and he had laughed as she literally screamed so long her face turned a brilliant shade of red. And then she had cried. She had cried yes so many time he had finally told her if she didn’t, he was taking her to the hospital for brain damage!

When the melody reached his ears, he felt his heart jump into his throat. This was it. This was the day he married her. He waited until he heard the gasps of her friends and then he turned slowly, his eyes closed. He opened them slowly. His heart stopped. Poppy was always beautiful, all the time, but now? There was no way the image would ever be erased from his mind. It was seared into his mind like someone had burnt it behind his retinas. He couldn’t help the breathless chuckle at her dress. Pink. Not white. A dark pink, like a rose petal, silk and hugging her body in everyway. It had an open back and was strapless. He tried hard not to stare like he had never seen her before but he knew he did poorly when Peppy coughed with a smile into his hand.

Branch took a deep breath and held up a shaky hand for her to take. Peppy moved to place her hand into Branch’s but Poppy, the moment finally hitting her, threw herself into her father’s arms with a cry. Peppy held his daughter close, the two of them crying and trying to desperately comfort the other. Eventually, Peppy pulled away, squeezed his daughter’s hands, and held her hand up for Branch to take. He took her slender fingers into his own and pulled her up next to him. They turned to face Cloud Guy, one of Branch’s old friends from college who lvoed to annoy him – but hey, he had a license to marry!

Cloud Guy raised his arms and silence fell. The man addressed the crowd with his voice and hands alone, no book in sight. He had this covered for his best friend after all. “We’re all gathered here this beautiful day…..” He gestured to the bright sunny, cloudless sky before turning back to Poppy with a wink. “To see Poppy in all her beautiful glory! Lookin’ good, Pops!”

She grinned and shot him a thumbs up, causing the crowd to laugh. But Branch’s nerves were wearing thin. He was sweating and he felt his throat closing up. He willed himself not to panic – oh god not here, not now! - but he couldn’t even focus on Cloud Guy’s words any more. All he heard a was a muted, dull mumble. When it came to Poppy’s vows, he did hear her clear, “I do.”

And then the moment came for him and swallowed the lump, mumbling an, “I do.”

Poppy only grinned and they both turned to face each other. He took her hands, his trembling, and he saw Poppy glance at him in confusion. He opened his mouth but nothing came out and when Cloud Guy threw his arms at the happy couple, unaware of Branch’s turmoil, he shouted, “KISS THE BRIDE! But not like Christmas, okay, buddy?”

He didn’t know if it was the shout that did it or the laughter at the joke or even if it was the reminder of what he had done last Christmas…..But Branch tore away, running past the tree and through the park with a shout. He was still shouting when he heard the laughter following him but he couldn’t stop, if he stopped, he would have to kiss her in front of everyone….!

Branch stumbled and Poppy pounced. He would never be able to look at that memory the same way again. They had tumbled to the ground, wrestling, before Poppy – victorious little demon of his heart – triumphantly pinned his arms against his sides with her legs. She leaned down, his legs kicking, shouts and curses erupting from his lips, and he knew his eyes were wide with panic and fear…..But Poppy only leaned down ever so sweetly and kissed him every passion she held inside her. And he tasted rainbows and cupcakes and sunshine. He tasted pink and watermelon and bubblegum. He tasted his future in that single moment.

As he ran his fingers over the picture, he let himself smile happily for the first time in his life. There was no fear, no panic, no need to run. He looked at the picture with affection and a bit of embarrassment. His eyes were staring into the camera, begging and pleading for someone to save him, panicked and wide. His lips were twisted this way and that. His arms, though held by Poppy’s legs against his side were bulging from the effort to get away. One legs was twisted an almost impossible angle he saw with a wince and the other was in the air, desperately trying to push away.

It wasn’t his best moment. But it was Poppy he focused on. Her pink dress rode up to her hips, bunched around her waist. Her hands on his chest, fisting the fabric of his suit like that Christmas not so long ago. But it was her smile. That beautiful, bright ray that was planted against his own. Her eyes were closed, smiling, and he could not only remember the taste of his future but see it in that smile. He would have to thank Biggie later. And he snorted in amusement as he saw her friends - “Our friends! Why must I always remind you?” - in the background of Biggie’s picture, all of them in different poses, a part of their future.

He set the frame down on the mantle of the fireplace and stepped back. It held their wedding photo in the middle, Poppy’s Dad on the right, and his Grandma on the left. As he admired the pictures, he felt two arms around his middle from behind and he smiled that free smile again.

“This is what you’re doing while you leave me to unpack in our new home!”

Branch grinned and he felt an elation rush through him. Spinning around in her arms, he lifted Poppy up by her waist and spun her around their new living room in their two story house and brought her down for a kiss.

This time, he wasn’t scared for the future.

#trolls #dreamworks animation #Branch #Poppy #broppy #this is love #fanfic #my creation #multishot #pure fluff #writing #prompt

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melzan-of-bregan-daerthe · 7 years ago

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Eleint the 2nd 1489

He plucked at the strings. He was constantly doing this. They never sounded right to him, so he would tune each to resonance. Off from a typical lute, six strings either sounding like two too many or not nearly enough for him.

"Ooh, It's a passion, Ooh, you can feel it in the air~"

he more spoke under his breath than sang, but something about it carried. Some subtle magic laced into the sound, something between the strings plucked by those sharp fingernails. Iliad would glance up only a second, not at anything in particular, but as if to pull his head out of what ever world he'd left it in to catch his breath. Face hidden by veil and hood, he'd dive back into it.

Melzan heard the music. He'd been looking over his holy book. Magical music. Making sure his face wasn't visible he got up and followed the tune. Not surprised by Illiad being the musician he chose to listen. Melzan did not attempt to remain unnoticed as he approached.

The drow kept his distance to a few feet away, more out of habit from trying to hide himself from others than actually not wanting to be nearer.

His voice was always strange when he sang, the way it filtered away his strange accent. The musician was strange. Most bards wove their magic with song, and he was clearly capable. Instead he used the same kinda common gestures as any sorcerer. He didn't seem to be enjoying the tool as he played it, leaning against a stump felled some time ago. But it sounded pretty. Chords that didn't seem to be native to this realm.

"Lift your hands and voices, free your minds and join us~ you can feel it in the air~"

He didn't seem to notice melzan's approach. Or, maybe that was why he lifted his head before. Either way it didn't seem for any consequence to him. Actually, melzan would recognize this song, though the elf wouldn't be able to feel the better part of it's magic due to the nature of his race.

When Illiad finished Melzan clapped a few times. His gold eyes glowed under his hood as he tilted his head.

"You don't seem to enjoy your own music. Is there a reason?" Melzan didn't sound like he required an answer, just basic curiosity. "How easily can you play to a new tune?"

"I'm, used to something a bit less, pedestrian I guess?"

He tilted his head, phantom amber eyes of his illusion looking to melzan's. his body language was his emotional indicator. Wrapped up tight and only showing those fake amber eyes.

"I'm absolutely garbage at picking things up like that. I'm not a trained bard."

"I'm certain you are better than you think. Instruments were never something I learned. It's a bit amusing that I'd end up with a goddess who loves music and poetry. It's one of the things I've really enjoyed about the surface," Melzan folded his arms as he thought about what to say next.

The man said he would be garbage, but it might be worth a try. Not to mention Melzan really wasn't sure how to be friendly. What would a human or another elf do? Probably try to get him to do what they wanted anyway, garbage or no.

"The instrumental part doesn't have many, uh, cords? Notes? I'm a pretty garbage singer so we'll both be bad?" admitting he wasn't good at something, normally that would be ridiculed by his kind as a sign of weakness.

"If you're looking for common ground, you've all ready had me at the aesthetic love."

He smiled up to the drow, motioning to their similar sense of dress. These conversations always amused him. Genuine awkwardness was a treat for him, something he was able to take in often with this group.

Talk of his goddess lifted a sharp eyebrow, not that melzan could see it. He had always been so expressive, hiding behind them. Almost felt naked to be so covered up. He wondered if that would matter to a goddess.

"If you sang melz, I would play with you. Might not be the sound you're looking for but, I will play."

"Common ground? Oh... similarities. It's not as fast as the one you were singing," Melzan had to think about what Illiad had meant.

Melzan didn't understand a few terms in common very well. He knew sarcasm, but joking and slang were something he had to continue working on. Swallowing he nodded and hummed a little tune. When Illiad got it, he began to sing, softly.

Melzan almost felt embarrassed about doing something so useless, but at the same time it warmed him up inside. It was a song that many who worshiped Eilistraee sang, words from their goddess.

((stealing song from dragon age because it fits the lore a bit: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dULdG1dGPos ))

When he finished he nodded. "Thank you...."

Plucking along was a simple thing. His notes close enough to what he thought melzan's voice needed more so then what he was look ingredients for. It, was eerie to him how the tone seemed to slowly shift from him. Fingers moving away from the established notes, to find tones more fitting on their own.

Elvish was a strange language for him. Synapses firing off and fussing about then meanings of words as he heard them. Like he was just on the cusp of understanding what they meant. He couldn't help but feel as though he was supposed to know. Elves frustrated him. Would the women who'd brought him into this world have known this song? Would she have sang it to comfort him as a child...

"Any time melz. You should know by now I enjoy spending time with you."

The young man laughed softly behind the illusion.

"You don't need to thank a friend for something like that love."

Melzan narrowed his eyes to figure out if Illiad was being sarcastic or not when he mentioned 'enjoying' spending time with him. Deciding he meant it honestly had his eyes widening in surprise. Soon the Drow looked away, unsure of what to say to those kind remarks. Even his old 'friends' did not regard him in such a manner. Not to mention no other Drow would be caught dead saying some of those things. It made him nervous and uneasy but Melzan took a deep breath and tried to ease his tensed shoulders.

"Sit melzan, it's alright to relax."

He yawned softly in response to the fries narrowing golden eyes. Atreyu really didn't get the ridgedness of it all. Expressing little things like that, it was simple and clean. Opening up without giving any ground or taking any loss. He's save the worry and stress for the real secrets. Just bury them all under open sentiment.

"You gotta teach me how to speak with you to avoid those reactions."

After taking a moment to consider the offer he moved to sit with Illiad. Relaxing is not something a Drow did easily. Most of their training built around paranoia and distrust didn't help the matter.

"What do you mean? Some of your words are..." he rubbed one of his hands with the other, thumb running over his palm as the right word struggled to find it's way out. 'Nice', 'Startling', 'untrustworthy', 'sarcastic', 'strange', 'affectionate' ... Finally he decided on a word. "Unexpected."

"I don't think the way every one else does."

He blinked, tilting his head.

"I don't really think much before I speak either. Just kinda blurt of something almost ok and steer into the current..."

Melzan let out a single laugh at remembering how Illiad had acted with people so far. The man certainly did not have a way with words as much as he had a way with song and music.

"The things you say are not bad they are just not things I am used to hearing. At all. Even the term of endearment. No one has ever referred to me as such and there's not such a word in my original language so when I actually realized what you were calling me meant I thought you might be being literal or sarcastic. I'm still a bit new to common and the surface. It's hard when the language has a meaning for words, but sometimes the word might not mean what the person meant to say, but it does anyway," Melzan shrugged. "Outside of other drow and those I met in the Underdark, I've no experience with others."

"Well, no pleasant ones."

He tilted his head, blinking again as he listened. He hadn't heard melzan say, half as much in one a single session.

"It's, words can be frustrating alright? People are a pain in the ass. They take things, the wrong way and... you should see me work when I don't care about who I'm speaking to or, wether or not someone I love is listening."

He sighed.

"I've never known another drow. You're my introduction. I promise that it hasn't been a bad one."

"You should not take my interaction as normal drow behavior, trust me. Most Drow would slit your throats as you slept. Manipulate you into killing those you care about. Just in general do their best to cause you the most pain they possibly could before killing you," Melzan was tense again as he thought about his time in his homeland. He'd still been a 'youth' when he was taken into the male band of traders/rebels.

Atreyu's hand found its self patting melzan's head, not looking over or saying anything for a moment.

"I keep meeting people from from terrible cultures. People who have escaped for what ever reasons."

He frowned, not taking his hand away, just gently patting.

"There are a lot of terrible people. Lot of terrible worlds and cultures. Even people who are at peace are terrible. Every single person I've ever met is the same in chains."

The hand patting his head startled Melzan and it took a lot of control not to jerk away. He held his hands together so tightly they trembled before he convinced himself that it was a regular gesture. He knew that patting a persons shoulder or hand was a thing, but not the head. It didn't hurt, or feel upsetting, just new.

"I think when it comes to cruelty demons may be the only ones out there worse than the Drow... But I have not been over the entire world so, that might be wrong. I've never known another race that openly accepts slaughtering and torturing their own families. Children, babies and all. Sometimes just for 'fun'," Melzan looked around to make sure there weren't any others that may be startled by his appearance. Satisfied he reached up and let his hood fall back and uncovered his face.

"Well, honestly, that is... uh, a really fucking stupid way to do things."

He nodded, pulling his hand back and putting his weight on melzan's shoulder. He was, too light. Sickly light for a human man, even more for a half orc. It might have even be weird to see him without food in his mouth.

"I know what it's like to be under to influence of an evil deity."

"... There's something more wrong with you than you let on. You're keeping it from everyone. Not just what you are. I realize you don't want people to know. Cursed or worse. Constant need to eat. The so thin you probably should be dead appearance, although I'm not sure how much of that is for show," Melzan took in a deep breath and looked at him before smiling a little. "You're pretty fucked up, friend. Guess that's why we all actually are getting along. All fucked up in our own ways. Also, I'm using that word correctly? It's a vulgar common word used to emphasize things, correct?"

"It's just very lewd to keep saying while we're so close to each other."

He lied casually. Deflection, swerve and bob and duck and deflect. He was an excellent liar.

"Yeah, we're all a mess huh? I'm just a hungry guy trying to keep a pretty girl safe. Like a cliche story."

"Lewd?" Melzan thought about that and what they normally thought was 'lewd' on the surface. His skin around his cheeks darkened ever so slightly, hardly enough to even be noticeable. "Yes. We are a mess. I've never really read stories like that. So this is all kind of new. Also, you're not just a hungry guy. That 'ritual' you do in the morning is not for meditation or worship." Melzan poked the man in the chest. "And I bet it has something to do with your missing shadow and how much you care for Nessa. I like mysteries, and I don't forget about them. Just because you wont tell me or try to avoid it, doesn't mean I'm going to completely drop the issue. I can have patience."

"Well, you'll out live me love. So I just gotta wait till I drop."

He chuckles, finishing his ritual and creating his dome of space around them. Taking a breath, he released the glamour that was masking him and pulled his hood back.

"I have a lot of answers, all of them are lies and I really hope you don't hate me for it. Maybe some time I'll tell you about the derst house where I met her."

"This really does seem a lot like home sometimes," Melzan smiled and didn't seem bothered by the fact that they would be lies. "Your business is your business. I'm not curious about how you met Nessa, more I'm curious about what's going on with you. As a healer, it worries me. I want to help you, but I don't know how." Melzan admitted and looked at Illiad. "Also, we all might die. I'll only outlive you if no one kills me first. Which, considering everything, may be likely. I have a lot of people who hate me. A lot."

"I intend to keep you alive remember?"

He yawned and stretched, taking his weight off of melzan. The half orc was, a definite change from the false human who had just been sitting with the drow. Olive skin, and a broad scar across his face. His orcish features were minimal. Sharp canines, but hardly the tusks one expected to see, a more animalistic nose, a long jagged ears. His left eye was, beast like. A sharp green iris, and blade strip of black at it's centre. Orcish. His right however, wasn't so much an eye as it was a Maroon coloured orb almost glowing.

"I mentioned the house because it was a mystery. Haunted and evil, but i pieced together it's story. I like stories."

He shrugged, pulling the cloak off, no one else could enter the hut so, he had his privacy. His breast plate would take a moment.

"If you're concerned about my health then you can look me over."

"Maybe I'll have to look into it later but haunted houses aren't so mysterious most of the time. Also, yes, I do hope you can keep me alive," he watched Illiad and tried to figure out if he'd put on weight with the disguise down.

He was a bit surprised that they were in his hut with such privacy without the others. Most of the time Illiad summoned the hut when it was time to sleep for all of them. At the same time when the half-orc began to take off his breastplate it made more sense. This apparently was something that Milo, Nessa, and Sam had no knowledge of.

"You really do trust me," Melzan said out loud more to himself than to Illiad. "I - uh... I'll do my best not to um... betray it..." he'd heard other people say that and it felt odd, but right to admit.

If anything, the breast plate and the layers of clothing under played exactly how under weight he was. Under the plate he wore a simple loose shirt. Something a sailor might wear. He was tall, inches taller out side of the illusion, and his shoulders were broad the way one would expect a half orc to be. But his body was thin, and lithe, too thin. He, didn't look sickly, in fact his physical constitution was well above average. Atreyu was just thin.

"You'd be surprised how often I tell the truth. Like I said, I trust you."

He flicked his wrist, and a crossbow bolt popped into existence. He tossed it onto the cloak.

"I don't know what's wrong with me, but I am getting better, slowly."

Melzan looked at the bolt then back to illiad. So this man wanted him to keep even more secretes. Not that he couldn't, but Melzan wasn't sure how the other team members would react to that once he heard about it.

"Getting better slowly is a good thing at least." Melzan nodded.

The bolt was no secret from the others. Just a means of defence in case of being unarmed. Defence that could sting a good deal more then cantrips. Save the dagger in his boot that he was just about to toss onto the cloak, he was completely unarmed.

"People have secrets. Mine are to protect nessa and my self. Pretty soon it won't matter."

"My health doesn't matter for now. I can still fight, I can skill cast, and I can still lie. Every other thing is extra melzan."

Melzan nodded. Though he moved to look over Illiad.

"Your health might not matter now, but that could change. It's very, very easy for someone to go from sickly to bed ridden. Granted I was wrong and you look even more starved now."

He looked up at the scar on Illiad's face and wondered how he survived from that. Likely friends or a healer. Maybe he didn't survive and a cleric or someone revived him. Melzan had his own scars, but nothing quite as severe, at least he didn't think so. Then again no one ever saw his scars. Even with other he only uncovered his face. His gloves stayed on, and basically everything he wore stayed on. Nothing else exposed but his face. Elf like features, high cheek bones, pointed ears although they were shorter than surface elf ears. Dark, almost blue skin, and silvery white hair.

-insert insight check of 18-

He's not lying about keeping secrets to protect himself and nessa.

He definitely looks worse without his illusion up.

And you get the idea that he has no fucking idea what's going on with his body, or if he is getting better

Melzan frowned. He reached out and paused before touching Iliad's arm. He wasn't sure if the half orc wanted him to try and figure this all out.

Atreyu stretched, taking a sip from the ewer he kept on his hip. How he wasn't always completely sloshed was dizzying. His half orc physiology was probably the only thing keeping him... standing anyway. He didn't flinch as melzan touched him, actually, almost. It had been awhile since anyone actually touched him. He took another sip, eyes shifting to the drow's. "Thirsty melz?"

"... I suppose," he nodded. "Do you want to figure this all out? I'm not promising that i can, but i can at least try," he would take the ewer when offered.

"No? Maybe?" He shrugged, holding the glorified wine jug out. It, was pretty, made of some brassy metal, adorned with images of wolves and deers and other forest animals dancing about in relief. It, felt as though it was half full, liquid swishing inside, but if melzan were to look, it would be empty. "Just take a sip, it's weird but it pours." The wine it's self was, a delightful pink fizzy liquid, deliciously sweet and very strong. As likely to catch a person off guard with hiccups as alcohol content.

Melzan was caught off guard slightly. The hiccups started soon after his drink. He couldn't cast spells hiccuping like that. During on hiccup he glared a little at Iliad.

Then, he removed one of his gloves and reached to touch his arm. A maybewas as good as a yes he figured.

He smiles playfully as the hiccups started, a genuine and abruptly handsome smile. He shook it off after a moment with a yawn.

"Don't, beat yourself up if you can't do anything love."

"I won't. Just means i have to research more."

Melzan frowned as he realized that there wasn’t much he could do. The curse was strong and out of his power, but he could at least assist with the pain or the side effects of the curse.

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captusmomentum · 7 years ago

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AMD: Midnight Paranoia Club Part 2

Part 2 of this Disaster. seriously want to rename these but I CAN’T THINK OF IT SO HERE WE FUCKING ARE AHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHA. (the joke is they’re all paranoid insomniacs and are a group great huh? too bad i’m noT FUNNY OR CLEVER--)

aka Uthvir’s first sleep over. Plus Uthvir decidedly not first booze party.

again Tace and Inanallas are mine, Uthvir and Thenvunin (mentioned) are @feynites !

PART 1 HERE

Inan-something flips a switch near the door in the tight needlessly long hallway of their tiny apartment as they enter. The younger elf’s apartment is even smaller than theirs, consisting of a main awkwardly shaped room and a small bathroom. They hadn’t thought they would have such a small place compared to Uthvir— who had come here considerably later and was undoubtably lower on the food chain at the moment— their apartment at least had a separate bedroom and the kitchen was contained in its own nook, not crammed into the corner opposite the smaller of the two windows.

And the other window was truly massive, a huge ornate thing of textured and colored glass taking up the entirety of the angled wall that stood where the two exterior walls would have met in the far right. It was so large they could see it peeking over the top of the loft area that served as the bedroom, sending dim light over the mess of the bed. The main living space seemed set on being evidence that you could keep a place neat and orderly yet still have it feel like a cluttered mess.

The walls were covered with haphazardly placed pictures and shelves of primarily junk, the pantry was nothing but an open shelving unit and the workspace/closet under the loft area was somewhere between cozy and claustrophobic but they were all technically clean. There were no piles of papers or clothes, no surfaces covered in mountains of garbage as if in complete defiance of the fact it felt as if it was packed to the gills.

It spoke to them of someone who knew how to live a place so small, who knew the importance of holding on to everything you had but not being afraid to let things go if there was no room for it. Perhaps that was why then they’d taken this pathetic little shoebox, they were used to that sort of living, they certainly couldn’t imagine some of the others they’d met being able to handle this small a space. Thenvunin they know would be squawking in a minute on the crampedness and indignity of it. The other peacock with the facial hair would also bemoan this they think and the rest would fill it so completely there’d be no room to breathe.

But for Inan-something it works, they are small and don’t take up much space themselves as it is. A large plus. They move quickly over to the corner where their clothing racks and ladder reside and do something, then suddenly the little trail of odd shapes dangling sweetly from the lofts edge blaze into colorful light.

The shemlen snorts and rolls his eyes. “Chintzy ass indie motherfucker.”

They take it those lights are somehow ridiculous or something and make note of it, though they also note they enjoy the way the lights add a faint feeling of warmth and festivity. Something pathetically jolly that’s amusing in it’s feebleness. They walk immediately over to the couch while the others are distracted and immediately claim the entire thing for themself. The young man walks over to the counter and removes his purchases from their bags then sets out to find the glasses and tableware.

Inan-something wanders over to the living area and places their bags on the table in front of Uthvir before sitting down on the floor beside them, back to the kitchen. In a moment they are joined by the other who puts down a bowl of snacks and an armful of glasses and bottles before pulling over one of the chairs of the small table under the window. They spread their own spoils out on the low table and begin to work on the cheap dinner they’d purchased as the other two sort themselves out. Their host gets up briefly put something on in the kitchen.

“What the fuck are you making now?” The other one calls over to them.

“Tea.”

“Why are you making tea? We’ve got booze!”

“It’s for the booze, I’m using it as a mixer.”

He makes a disgusted face.

“Oh my god you are a fucking hippie nightmare.”

“Look I just really like tea okay? And booze is super good in tea.”

“I fucking hate you.”

The elf turns and waggles their eyebrows at him to which he makes an even more disgusted face now joined with a disgusted noise. Uthvir is deeply frustrated for a moment as they try furiously to follow the conversation but cannot manage it, they are too inexperienced with the language to get a damn word of it and it irritates them deeply. They hate not being able to comprehend anything around them passionately. But before they can get too aggravated Fear whispers their meanings to them. It has had plenty of time to learn the new tongues and can speak them fluently, it hadn’t really struck Uthvir fully that was the case until now, their union had been so out of sync since they’d reunited they’d only focused on what they had to in order for the two of them to reacclimatize as quickly as possible. Now that they were regaining their joint equilibrium they could feel the power of language Fear had in the back of their mind almost as naturally as if it was their own.

They still wanted to know it themself as thoroughly as they had known elvhen but this at least was miles better and ideally meant the learning would go infinitely quicker, as Fear’s knowledge seeped into theirs quicker then the contents of any book could.

“Come now children play nice.”

The new words feel odd coming from their mouth and the sound is odd, nothing like elvhen, it is infinitely less elegant on all fronts. Though they suppose they do enjoy some of that, if elvhen was a beautiful silken tapestry this was a over large misshapen wooden club, and they did always prefer clubs to silks.

The man turns to them with a look of surprise that quickly becomes exaggerated comically as he flings his arms out dramatically and looks to the heavens.

“It speaks!”

He is immediately hit in the head with a wad of paper towel from the kitchen which is cushioned by his great mane of disheveled honey ringlets. Given the substantial compression the blow had achieved in that thicket they reckoned Inan-something had thrown it with some real force, they might even have a good arm. Which they had not used when against Uthvir as far as they could tell.

“Don’t call them an ‘it’!”

“It was a reference! Drakenstien!”

“Which they don’t know anything about you ass!”

The man groans loudly and obnoxiously which is countered with another wad to the face is time. He spasms slightly in shock then begins to laugh loudly. The sound is harsh and hoarse, his throat is ravaged from overuse they guess, or something like that.

Uthvir stashes the name ‘Drakenstien’ away to look into later. They are already liking the little elf much more then they’d anticipated they would. So far they haven’t had to deal with any post conflict awkwardness with them and they’re already reprimanding their friends before Uthvir even has to muster the shits to give to do it themself.

Their tea brewed, they return to the low table with a large mug, into which they promptly pour an impressive amount of alcohol into. The already fragrant steam explodes into a new more layered aroma. The young man also has an impressively large amount of booze in his own glass which he is already beginning to empty at a brisk pace. Apparently these two can drink like it’s their jobs.

So these two are tolerable then. So long as they’re harmless drunks. Thenvunin made Inan-something sound like a dreamy little child that needed him to protect them and had they heard nothing of the other except that he was tortured constantly by creatures in the Dreaming and likely unstable. Uthvir couldn’t say anything to the latter, but the former was clearly a construct of Thenvunin’s imagination. While they appreciated the duos attitude to alcohol consumption, Uthvir was not so keen to get absolutely hammered at this time, so they poured themself a respectable amount and planned to nurse it for the majority of the night.

The young man across from him topped his own glass off then raised it for an impromptu toast.

“To the too fucked up to function club! At least we don’t have to actually do shit!”

Internally, Uthvir came to a halt sharply at that. Mechanically they raised their glass, it clanks with his and the weakly raised mug in Inan-something’s hand. They had not failed to notice how they seemed to be handled and kept from actually engaging in tasks with excuses of taking time to reacclimatize and learning about what they had missed, how they made it sound like this was a long process while they spied that snake Pride with all his contacts and cunning already hard at work after only a few months awake. They were fairly certain before they were being treated like a half-mad animal by their former peers and “Rescuers” but this confirmed it.

They looked at the other two critically, the smooth cunning of centuries hunting people as successfully as they hunted beasts coming back to them with only the faintest creaks of disuse.

Their grin is tight and nearly a snarl.

“And what an exciting club to be in! Nothing to do but sit at home and become more unstable!” They do not mean to let so much hot bitterness into their voice and yet, there it is.

The man laughs gleefully and waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“I know right? It’s how they’ve been dealing with me for years, since the nightmares started up when I was a kid. They figured somehow that keeping me away from all the other kids would help. It certainly helped them, me not so much.” He took a long sip of his drink then continued. “ You get so bored you start to get weird and do whatever just to pass the time which freaks them all out more so then it’s more alone time and more templars— to help, of course. Because people acting like you’re about to eat baby hearts at any minute is so helpful.”

He grins widely, laughing a little then takes another shot.

“Templars? I’ve overheard that word once or twice. What are they exactly?”

Inan-something opens their mouth to reply but before they can he’s answered.

“Chantry funded jailers. Assholes armed to the teeth who’s job it is to supposedly ‘keep mages safe from themselves and others safe from the mages’.” He snorts derisively. “ Mostly a bunch of deluded fanatics and psychopaths looking to get off on controlling people. Not a single one knew the first damn thing about magic or demons. If I’d actually told them the half of what was going on with me they’d have been shitting themselves. By the time I managed to get out of the Gallows I think the lot of them were mostly convinced I was already possessed and were just trying to decide the best way to get rid of me.”

His sarcastic grin dissolved into a bitter smile as he refilled his glass and took a long pull from it.

“The Gallows?”

“The name of the Circle building in Kirkwall.” Inan supplied.

He puts his glass back down and fills it once more. A long thin arm gestures in significantly more subdued dramatics when he speaks again.

“There’s a rainbow of other options for what to do with mage children now and yet I was given to the Circle of Magi, the most old fashioned and fucked up of them all. Ain’t that the bitch of it.”

Inan-something looks over at him with a mixed expression, nothing so insulting as ‘oh you poor thing’ but clearly concerned among other things more inscrutable things. They study that face for a moment, the contrast between delicate features and menacing black ink, the endless sea of freckles, the ever increasing flush from the heat and spirits, trying to puzzle them out. From behind the mess of their bangs ominous tattooed eyes stare back at them even while their owner’s gaze is directed away and Uthvir can tell there is magic in those marks, and that the other knows they are appraising them with it. The boy has at confirmed he too is seen as a dangerous liability and part of why that is, but it’s unclear to them why Inan-whatever has been taken out of active duty. Was it related to their own awakening? That whole expedition of theirs certainly qualified as a shit show, had they been reprimanded for it?

“Tell me, why do you have so many eyes in your vallaslin? It’s not a design I recognize and frankly, I’d think that no one would even bother with them now that the Evanuris are gone.”

Those owlish blue eyes turn to them now and they can see the thoughts and sentences settle and fall into place in them as if they were clear as glass. Their brow furrows as they move their gaze from them to the table as they start talking. A non-answer was coming.

“Well, it’s not a traditional vallaslin. I had a traditional one before for a little—the full Mythal— but vallaslin meant—does mean?— something different to us than it did historically. We’d lost so much of our culture and history so we’ve only had jumbled scraps until recently, for us it was kinda of a visual ‘fuck you’ or mark of dalish pride against all the people who’d tried to subjugate us or erase our identity. Then we stumbled upon hahren from Arlathan’s time and learned the history of the traditional marks, it exploded into a whole thing. Facial tattoos are still very much linked with the Dalish so some of us are doing things like redesigning theirs or getting completely new ones that aren’t slave markings but instead purely Dalish. I decided pretty early on to use the opportunity to clean the slate and get something more useful.”

“And the eyes?”

They break their cycle of table-wall-Uthvir-repeat and look at them nervously before away again sidelong.

“They’re… good for seeing…”

They lean in a little, pressing them. The dim flare of the hunt beginning ignites in them from across the millennia. It’s not an important thing, but they don’t want to tell so Uthvir wants to know. “And what are you trying to see?”

They look back up at them then anywhere else.

“I don’t know, things?”

“Naturally, but what sorts of things?”

Inan-lastbit looks at them with increasing panic. It’s adorable really, they are so easy to read, if they had lived in Arlathan they would be used and manipulated ten times over by now, Run around in circles and laughed at. They’re so lucky, so lucky and they will never comprehend how lucky they are.

“Wow. This is like, so extra.”

The young man’s voice breaks the growing tension between them. They been making progress they knew, the younger elf was too nervous and inexperienced at this kind of game, with some time and maybe more liquor they’d’ve had an answer as easy as that. The man was off his chair and leaning on the table so heavily his head nearly on it and not his arm. He looked between them with mooning doelike amber eyes, something at could’ve been a pretty sight if he wasn’t so capable of spoiling his looks with an thick aura of punchablitiy.

“You’re good at that you know? Now I get why they’re so itchy about you.” His distraction complete, he pulls himself back into his chair. “ You were a hunter or something right? Chill out Duck Dynasty, let the poor girl off the hook, she’ll die of a heart attack by the time you get going.”

They stare at the shemlen then give the other elf a long look.

They shrug noncommittally. Clearly uninterested in correcting their friend’s mistake. Uthvir feels differently however.

“They’re an adult. I’m sure they can called some questions.”

He looks at them then shrugs and knocks back his drink.

“Whatever, it’s still boring to watch.”

Inan-something snorts then laughs.

“Why? Because it doesn’t directly involve or entertain you?”

“Yup. Buzzed me is a selfish dick.”

“Sober you is a selfish dick.”

He replies a wink and a kiss. Inan-something scrunches their nose at his antics but smiles all the same. Uthvir sips from their own glass as they watch the two go back and forth, slowly collecting idle questions and cataloguing the elements of the tattoos on the elf’s hands.

It’s not too long after that that it’s declared they should watch a ‘movie’ and Tace (they have finally heard the idiot’s name used) is set with the task of detaching a storage bin from the bottom of the loft as he is the tallest, while Inan-something (who apparently is called ‘Inny’ by people who are clearly tasteless trolls like Tace) hovers worriedly. Once the drunks have it safely on the ground Inan—Oh who cares, Inan works and they’re getting too drunk to even want to try remembering the rest despite their best efforts to stay sober— is pulling out some sleek black something and connecting it to some other something and then doing something.

It’s a lot of shit they have no idea about and frankly they don’t care at the moment. They’ll pester someone about it later. The black something is placed on the small breakfast table where they can all comfortably see it from their place around the low table. The black thing becomes less black and more full of moving images and they finally comprehend what a “movie” is, some kind of recorded play or story. That was fine, and frankly quite intriguing on it’s own but the drunks quickly make a game of mocking it which is equally fun. They manage to get a quip in here or there even without comprehending the majority of it but mostly enjoy the two of them hurling bad comedy at the screen. They are now completely certain that Thenvunin is completely delusional, Inan is as demure and childlike as they are, the amount of swearing alone—

It’s several hours, two movies and many empty bottles later when they decide to call it a night. Tace was incredibly drunk, definitely not going home and Uthvir was intoxicated enough to not feel inclined to leave either. Though they were not sure where they would sleep here should they stay. The thought of sleeping on the floor was deeply unappealing, if it came to it they would physically subdue Tace to claim the couch for themself, or maybe the bed from Inan?

Inan seemed to be considering the same thing as they looked between them and the friend using them as a crutch, they turned and looked back at them finally after several rounds of it.

“You’re not like, super drunk right?”

“Barely inebriated.”

“How do you feel about heights?”

“I quite like them actually.”

They looked deeply relieved.

“Would you mind taking my bed? That couch turns into bed so me and Tace will just take that.”

They look up at the loft. It would give them a better vantage, they’d have a clear line of sight of the door and most of the apartment. They wouldn’t be able to see the space underneath but that would only be accessible by the other two who they could see and track easily or the large window which as it could not open would be a feat. If they slept far enough to the wall no one would even be able to see them up there, it did also look quite cozy.

“That works for me.”

They looked instantly relieved. “Great.”

They dithered a moment trying to figure out how they planned to set up the bed while holding up Tace before they seemed to just give up and drag him into something between a piggy back and a fireman’s carry as they set to moving the low table out of the way and transforming the bed. Uthvir watched from the kitchen, casually leaning on the counter, they could help but they didn’t really want to. It was much more interesting to watch them deadlift a grown man (albeit a scrawny one) while unlatching (or something) whatever kept it in a sofa shape and pulled it into a bed one. Who taught them honestly? They were all brawn and no skill. Like a poor man’s Thenvunin. Only Worse Than That somehow.

They then dumped Tace on it and grabbed two pillows from their loft and some blankets from another container on the underside of their bed, this time needing a stool to reach it with their tallest companion out of action. While they set to putting their temporary bed together Uthvir finally turned to taking off their shoes and jacket, both where then placed next to the ladder, the jacket hanging on the end of the clothes rack behind it, the boots by the ladder’s side. They didn’t remove anymore—if they did at all it would be up in the loft where no one could see them— and began the climb.

“Good night.” They called idly over their shoulder.

“Night.”

Inan briefly looked up from their task of removing Tace’s shoes to smile at them before returning to it.

The loft was cluttered in an inviting way— small pictures were taped to the wall, a small stack of very worn books held up a small clock in the corner, the mattress was in the rough center of it but a layer of pillows and 1 or 2 stuffed animals— childhood relics— extended it somewhat. Only the majority were mostly stacked against the wall along with what looked like a comforter near the foot of the bed. They supposed that they used some of the loft space to store things related to their own bed. Made sense.

It was also a very pleasant surprise, they had expected to have to try and suffer through pretending to sleep without enough there to even do that. They heard Inan get up below and moved to the edge just in time to see them duck under and then hear them rummage about. Next they saw them reappear heading towards the bathroom a small bundle of clothes in hand and before entering turning off the lights in the main room.

Their eyes adjusted smoothly to the dark and they quickly set to work, moving the mattress closer to the wall and building what they could out of the pillows, blankets and comforters for defense. By the time they had something serviceable they could hear a flow of water that had started in the bathroom as they worked stop and shuffling behind the door. They got in position and waited patiently in the dark. After a few moments, Inan came out of the bathroom again, hair in a long sloppy braid and a change of sleeping clothes, a tank top and some shorts, the colored lights giving them an eerie look. That was certainly more hair than they’d originally guessed at but more importantly, the more revealing clothing had exposed their copious tattoos.

They had seen the ones on their hands, face, some of their upper chest and neck from earlier, but it appeared that this was an all over event. Interesting. What were they all for? Did they all have runes or magic in them like their face and hands? Inan vanished again under the loft, there was some shuffling, the string of lights went out as well and then they reappeared crawling onto the sofa bed next to Tace who was already sound asleep.

They shimmied gingerly until they were situated in their own little cocoon and watch them while they waited for sleep to finally knock them senseless for a few horrible hours.

#my writing #amd #amd writing #a mirror darkly #uthvir #tace #inanallas #god still praying i haven't botched Uthvir #I TRIED OKAY #I TRIED REAL HARD #i hate everything i'm trying to find the grove for solavellan chem for this fic and instead i'm getting it for EVERY OTHER SHIP #uthvir is fixating bc there's literally nothing else for them to do #trapped doing diddly boo shit while people fight over who safe/unsafe they are #which is basically why all of them are there bitching and drinking like monsters #that probably doesn't help their case tho

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categorically-patheic · 8 years ago

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Fic: Hero Syndrome, Pt .1 Ch. 1

Oh my god! Piper’s writing a fanfiction?! Apparently!

Mass Effect/Dragon Age crossover (think a mash up of both stories). A bunch of stuff changed from each canon to make it cohesive. Shakarian is the main ship but not the focus of the story.

Part 1: Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained

"Well, what about Shepard? City elf from the Anderfels... but no record of her family, no paper trail from an orphanage." The nasally, dour tone of Ambassador Udina's voice bounces around the walls of the spacious, empty chantry. Cobwebs brandishing the timeworn wooden beams wobble from the disturbance in the still air; rays of honeyed sunlight gleam blazingly through opulent stained glass, bathing the warm interior in hues of green, blue, and red. Milky candles, oil portraits of the blessed Andranste, and worn copies of the Chant of Light lay scattered along the walls, having been pushed aside to make room for cots on which armies of men would sleep each night.

Three hoary and distinguished men sit along the circumference of a small round table in a cramped room built to the side of the chancel; a former storage closet, the confine now served as the war room for the esteemed, highest-ranking members of the Grey Wardens.

"Doesn't have one. Was raised on the streets of the alienage," High Constable Anderson explains casually. "Learned to look out for herself." He reclines back against the unrelenting wooden chair, putting his elbows on the table and leaning his joined hands forward to emphasize his words.

"She proved herself at the Blitz. Held off enemy forces on the ground until reinforcements arrived." First Warden Hackett, leader of all Grey Wardens, puts forward his vote of confidence into the dialogue. No soldier who'd pull something so audacious and self-sacrificing as that would be a bad choice, elven mage or not. He sits up, straightens his posture as he refocuses onto the conversation. "She's the only reason Elysium is still standing," Anderson elaborates with a subtle layer of reverence; he'd been awfully impressed with her actions himself, if not a little proud. He'd watched her closely through her training and as she climbed the ranks of the order. He knew she'd only enlisted because she had nowhere else to go, but Shepard applied every trace of resolution she had in her into each instruction, each drill they threw at her. There was something passionate and white-hot within her, and he'd been glad to be taking part in drawing it out.

"We can't question her courage," Udina says in a manner that broadcasts his apprehension blatantly.

"The grey wardens need a hero. And Shepard's the best we've got."

Udina shifts his gaze to Anderson and hesitates in thought, before turning his head and looking to Hackett with deferential eyes, "I'll send the letter."

///

Juniper Shepard stares down at the piece of paper for minutes on end, wringing it in her petite fingers until the edges crumble to ensure that it's tangible and not just a figment of her imagination. Pulling herself from reverie, she haphazardly folds the letter and tucks it into the pack hanging by her side. She turns from the mailbox to look out at the troops training, fields of soldiers male and female, mage and warrior, elven and human sparring together as equals. Well, we'll see how equal everyone is when they hear their new Commander of the Grey is a knife-ear magic user.

And yet the grim thought barely brushes her mind. All she can feel is an elated swell of pride and hope. She'd worked herself to the absolute limit for this, tirelessly putting her mind and body through constant strain to not only become accustomed to the brutal and unforgiving nature of clamoring against darkspawn, but to hone her magical and leadership skills as well. Her smile is ample and sunny, a wet sheen to her eyes as she stands atop the grassy overhang in front of the Ostagar chantry, peering down upon the men working their muscles on the battlefield (her men). To think that all that hard work finally paid off --

Before letting herself got lost in another daydream, Shepard hikes the pack higher on her shoulder, readjusts the cloth of her robes bunching around her waist, and begins strolling through the staging ground. Her eyes drift from merchant to quartermaster, observing their work ethic and absorbing the morose mood that seeped from the faces and words of each craftsperson and hired sword.

She meanders thoughtlessly through the sea of recruits and laborers, taking every second to soak up the sights and smells of Ferelden. Her feet, too used to this particular trek to award her any additional leisure, lead her to the war table. As expected, her charge King Nihilus stands hunched over a map of the country, confidently squared shoulders begin hitching up in frustration as the man next to him arrogantly nags at the side of his head. Nihilus takes a small, grey figure in the shape of a soldier and places it at the edge of an oblong green splotch meant to represent the Kocari Wilds, all the while snidely justifying his support of Orlais to the petulant veteran at his right.

As she approaches the two, the monarch's voice becomes clearer. "We have no reason to fear the Orlesians anymore; your paranoia will only get these men killed. Don't forget who's in charge here, Teyrn Arterius." The sun bares down swelteringly onto the grounds, causing sweat to roll down his chiseled, dark face; the white hair beneath his gilded crown sits clammy against his scalp and neck. Surly from the humid weather and his subordinate's overt disrespect, the king's intense green eyes narrow as they cast a sidelong glare at Saren, his body still stooped and parallel to the table.

"I'm just glad your father didn't live to see his only son handing over Ferelden to those who enslaved us for a century," the lieutenant retorted haughtily. The comment was unnecessarily cruel, especially when considering how good of friends the two had been when training to become templars alongside one another in the Denerim chantry, Nihilus' father watching from atop the throne in pride.

If mentioning the topic of his deceased father had bothered him in the slightest, the king didn't let it rise to the surface. Cooly, he responded to the affront by saying, "Then our forces will just have to suffice. First Warden Hackett promised us that a new Warden-Commander would be arriving today --"

Taking her cue, Shepard interrupts the king (for not the first time in her life) to interject, "Actually, Ser, that Warden-Commander would be me." She does her best to exude confidence when she traipses to the war table and hands Nihilus the letter. He turns slowly around, head cocked in interest. Frowning down at her in confusion and annoyance as he takes the note in hand, he scrutinizes Shepard with a sharp look like he's expecting it be a prank (again, not really a first time thing for her).

His eyes scan across the message, and his brow raises higher the more he reads. He tilts the paper down slightly when he's finished; a smirk ghosts on his lips as his gaze darts upwards from the page to stare back into her hopeful, dark eyes.

"Well, Shepard, it seems congratulations are in order. Can you get your men ready in a few days' time?" He asks the question like it's a formality, as if he already knows the answer.

She grins knowingly up at him and the horrified templar to his side. The hands at her hips cock into place as her arms fold at ninety-degree angles behind her back, her weight shifts back onto her spine from her right leg and her feet come together in a militaristic display. She replies, "Of course, your Highness." She keeps it short and sweet, understanding that her king is trying to make a point to the slag-faced teyrn. She'd always hated that bastard. Shepard may not always get along with Nihilus, his pompous overconfidence, nor his borderline naivety in the face of battle, but she hates Saren. Seeing him getting a taste of his own medicine was the cherry on top of the perfect proceedings thus far.

The knotted muscles in his body unbind as the tension from the previous argument is broken by their mirthful exchange, "Fantastic news, Commander. Every Grey Warden is needed now more than ever."

Disdain plasters itself across the indignant, pale face of Saren. His cheeks slightly gaunt and eyes a piercing cerulean, the expression he wears in reaction to the news is drenched in disgust. "Could we focus on the task at hand, or are you going to continue to waste your time with this diplomatic sh- nonsense? You're king, you appoint a Warden-Commander. This... apprentice can't be fit for something so critical." His voice reverberates with judgment and pretension.

"I put my faith in the Grey Wardens. Are you questioning my judgment," the king brusquely rumbles. "Maybe you've forgotten your place." His rough tone and tense posture suggest a challenge, one that all three of them know the Freeman won't take him up on, at least not in front of the entire Ferelden chapter.

The Gwaren teyrn scoffs and waves a gloved hand through the air in a dismissive gesture. "Not at all, Nihilus. But you shouldn't --"

"Then save it, Saren. If you have a strategy, let's hear it." He finishes the sentence with a hanging intonation; he wants to say more, but he knows it'd just cause controversy if he chewed out an official with such a high standing among the population so soon after being crowned.

He continued speaking without giving Saren so much as a chance, "The Grey Wardens distract the darkspawn into charging our lines. I utilize the chaos to sneak behind their numbers and set a bomb in the heart of their base. And then...?" He trails off awkwardly, shifting on his feet and looking back to the templar at his side in an offer of compromise.

The ass-kissing Saren takes it, of course. "You'll alert the tower to light the beacon, signaling my men to charge from cover."

"Yeah, to flank the darkspawn. I remember now. Who'll light the thing?"

"I have a few soldiers stationed there. It's not such a dangerous job, but it's very important."

"Then we should send our best. Shepard, you and your two sidekicks, uhh-- Alenko and Williams, was it? Take them to light the beacon." The king stands up straight, spine completely vertical, and looks to her with an observant expression.

"You're relying on these 'Grey Wardens' a lot, Kryik. Do really think this is a good idea?" The teyrn crosses his arms in provocation and rearranges his stance.

"Enough with the conspiracy theories, Arterius. Grey Wardens battle the Blight, it's what they do, regardless where they're from."

"Shouldn't we consider the possibility of the archdemon showing up," Shepard postulates. Her arms fold themselves beneath her breasts, one up in the air swirling to simulate the flight path of said beast. She does her best to mask the anxious burn in her chest when the realization of how real all of this is sets in.

"There haven't been any signs of dragons in the woods, Commander. Though, you're welcome to check yourself." Indignant as ever, the decorated lieutenant smirks in her direction, brow arched.

"Isn't that why you're here at all, Shepard?" The king grills her, and by the Maker, it makes her nervous.

"I, um... Yes, your majesty." She admits to what feels like a defeat. Shepard might actually be a little in over her head. Only a little.

#me #fic #mine

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shaded-hawke · 8 years ago

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Ambush

It was interesting to be on the losing side of an ambush for once, he mused from his sick bed. He had gone to speak with Reylain, and had instead found the shadowy figures, a flickering image of the male he wanted to speak with, and then toxic poison swirling around the room. In reality the poison could have been avoided, it would not have been hard to make his own exit from the room, after all he had been reminded quite a bit that he could put people through walls, he in fact could explode walls if he wanted. It had happened so quickly though, that he could already feel the toxin in his system, and the small prick of a needle on his neck did not help. Bringing his glove to his mouth Mav had inhaled the dust he had palmed, it wouldn’t nullify it completely, but it would make the length of his paralysis less. He had also palmed and then swallowed his Atlas coms. He didn’t know exactly who was deciding to put him helpless, but he wasn’t about to give them access to everyone he cared about unless he was going to end up dead.

Dragged up the stairs by his captor, he had been able to do little as she had bound his arms behind him at the wrist with razor wire, doing the same with his legs. He had realized who was his captor, and his eyes narrowed. There was a hint of a bitter sting of betrayal that he thought he had gotten used to. Had Reylain decided to redact their fledgling truce? Was this his way of telling Mavas that the deal was off? Apparently not, as Ayamei had cheerfully punched him in the nose to break it, speaking that she was operating outside of Reylain’s knowledge. That this was a message.

A message to Kurel

She had cut open his shirt, carving into his flesh, drawing blood and he could only raise his chin in defiance, playing the part of an annoyed captor without any real care of what she was doing to his physical being. Truthfully it was never a situation he wanted to be in, Mavas fully knew he could be dead by the end of the night, and that was bothersome to say the least. No, she was true to her word in wanting to send a living message though, and while they had bantered she had carved her initials into his flesh, poured shadow magic into his skin. Able to be sensed and seen by people Mav wanted to keep this from, but not the target she had in mind.

Finally though, she had marked him. He had only heard of the hand print from information he had gathered, the Council’s mark, letters sent to people that he had looked at. The pain as the shadow-flame seared into his shoulder was immense, Mav refused to scream, in fact he was fairly certain if he had let it out he would not have stopped...burn wounds were always the worst. It hadn’t helped that she had leaned in close, and somehow was projecting screams, unfathomable painful screams, sounds that the warlock assassin had heard many times in his life, had caused many times in his life. It took a considerable deal of strength to not give in to what she was doing...he was not about to break for this one, not her. Still, at the end of it, he had looked straight at her, blood smeared on his lips where she had kissed him, one last effort made.

“You can drop your vengeance and work with us...this is pointless, you are going to lose.”

She had smiled at him, and let him know she never lost, and then he had tumbled, falling through space and time to land on damp grass, the smell of death and mold everywhere. Still bound by the razor wire that was threatening every last second to cut deeper into his flesh and make him bleed out, Mav had laid on the grass, finally rolling over onto his back as the drugs burned away in his system, probably far sooner than they were supposed to.

“I seem to be in a predicament.” were his first words to Kurel, and that had sparked the other elf finding him once Mav had gotten his bearings. Giant black widow spiders crept nearer to him, and the warlock grunted...fantastic, he needed to stop laying there like a piece of meat, if he even moved a bit and looked threatening the spiders would stay away for now.

Wriggling, ignoring the slicing pain as the wires dug deeper, Mav scrunched up his legs, managing to slip his arms under his ass and then up, panting as he laid there with them just in his lap, staring up at the starlit sky. He was losing blood, he knew it, at a rather startling speed. He directed Kurel to Duskwood once he had realized exactly where he was, knowing that Kurel and Demytrya were on their way helped.

Slowly he began to loosen the razor wire, carefully using the smallest movements of his fingers to get it out of where it had imbedded into his bare skin, quietly cursing the Night Mother the entire time he did so. At last Kurel and Demy had arrived, Kurel immediately going with a dagger at his wrists, but Mav stopped him, telling him to go for the legs instead, they were still armored, good for breaking wire without suddenly killing him.

It should have been a sign as they spoke, that Kurel was actually concerned about Mavas as he spoke of his own torture and upbringing, surprising the warlock with out similar their history actually was. Being told to torture your companions, or be tortured yourself...Mav snorted, grinning to himself a bit loopily. Kurel could have made an interesting assassin if he had grown up elsewhere. Kurel had kept him awake, even offering his own jacket for Demytrya to carve up into bandages when it became apparent no one had brought a med kit to help the poor warlock not bleed out.

While the magistrix had managed to conjure some bandages, Mav had taken Kurel’s hand and placed it on his face to help straighten out his nose, which Kurel had done with gusto. Once he had been sufficiently wrapped up, he had been taken to the Erudition for rest.

These damn runes itch whenever you’re near.

I want to assess how many bridges she’s burned by doing this.

The warlock rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling of the room he had been given. Reylain’s words in his mind had been surprising, suspicious, but had soothed the paranoia the warlock had felt of the other male being a part of his torture. He could feel his mind letting go, he had lost too much blood, had taken too much damage in the week to be of much use to anyone. Words and phrases were mixing together, sliding around. Kurel itched when he was near, Kurel could find him through that...it was odd yet comforting. At least he wouldn’t be lost forever.

Sighing, Mav closed his eyes. He was not near the demons, he could try and sleep for a bit before he got up to really assess how badly off he was. Kurel had yet to return, and he still needed to find a way to speak to Reylain. The thought fired randomly, blood loss and a bit of shock finally letting Mav sleep for the first time in weeks.

@kurel-andiel @ayamicross @reylain-dawnsorrow

#Mav walked into an ambush #Learns Kurel back story #Not a bad give and take right?#Right?#Mav you're an idiot

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swordslinger95 · 7 years ago

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Have you ever heard of the saying, “Murphy’s law?” There’s an interesting story behind it, but I’ll skip it for now, the gist of the saying is, “Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong.” It’s not a very positive saying by any sense or shape, but it’s saved my life more than a few times. Why? Simple, because of that saying, I’m always looking over my shoulder, always on the lookout for when things inevitably go wrong. During my college years, some fool would try to poison me because I was getting better test scores, a jealous roommate would try to axe me for a reason I didn’t quite understand at the time, or on occasion, stopping a pickpocket from going off with my coin purse. This may sound like fruitless paranoia, but considering the number of times it saved my life, I’d say it’s more than earned it’s place in the “favorite quotes” section of my notebook. Right next to “They say a little knowledge is a dangerous thing, but it's not one half so bad as a lot of ignorance.” By one T.P, one of the greatest authors of all time, he’s gone now...but I’ll always look up to him, both as a source of wisdom, and whenever I need a pick me up. His works were hilarious.

But, in hindsight, I probably should have remembered that first saying when Jonathan Faye sat down at the dinner table with us and deposited a large stack of papers in front of my face. After he had woken Alice up, who I learned was his niece (though I hadn’t yet asked why she was wearing a maid outfit), the three of us shared an honest conversation about Andros’ current state of affairs. Apparently, the reason for the poor haul I had seen earlier today had been because of, well, simple over harvest from the Duke and Overlord’s sailors. Believe it or not, fish weren’t some limitless resource, much like the ground if you over-farm it, they needed time to replenish and regrow their numbers before you can harvest them again. Sea maidens, that is to say, Mermaids that are slightly more polite than sea harpies, generally enforce this code of conduct upon sailors, but it appears the seas around Andros weren’t really...how can I put this...enforced as much as they should’ve been. Most Sea Maidens would, in this case, take the offending sailors and pull them under, only releasing them back to the surface when the sailors were on the verge of drowning. No one is really hurt, but no one enjoys being dunked into the water repeatedly, even by good looking women who cover themselves solely with seashells.

...Before you ask, no, they don’t sing, that kind of sound doesn’t travel underwater very well.

As for why they weren’t policing the area, the answer came in the form of threats. You remember that Duke I keep mentioning? Well, as it turns out, there was a sea maiden princess being held captive in the Duke’s castle. Now, keep in mind, slavery is illegal in every country, or at least, those with their head on straight. Even us Demons don’t like it all that much, we have servants, sure, but we, ya know, pay em. Besides, there’s a lot of easier ways to get cheap labor, mainly by the way of golems. But the Duke was sorta exploiting a legal loophole, here. See, Sea Maidens, despite being well known, aren’t exactly officially recognized citizens in these parts, mostly because well, there’s not a tangible way to get an embassy down in the middle of the ocean, or a way to keep a Sea Maiden on land for an extended period of time. So that leaves the Duke able to hold one captive without fear of legal repercussions from his nation, that said, no one is really fond of that tactic, so while he’s able to get away with it legally, he’s barely tolerated socially. The Duke’s name was Arnold Milford the 3rd, and from what I’ve heard of him, he’s not exactly pleasant person.

When I asked Granny about this, she merely said, “Because he’s a jackass.”

I replied with: “Okay, but why though?”

The answer came in the form of a paper being shoved in my face, luckily, I did not get a papercut like usual, (I have sensitive skin) but upon reading the contents of said paper, I immediately understood.

“There’s a new edition of Machi’s journal coming out?” I said, reading the paper.

Granny took the paper out of my hands, flipped it over, and handed it back to me. Shame, I’m an avid follower of Machi’s Journal, how will your adventures end you sly little half elf?

Making a mental note to get that new edition when I got the chance, I looked this side of the paper over. Apparently, there was some kind of ball going on, and Milford the 3rd was hosting it. Normally, that wouldn’t be very strange, Dukes held balls all the time, but this one said that the aforementioned Sea Maiden would be there. Now, remember what I said about a Sea Maiden being unable to remain on land for an extended period of time? I meant that when they had some form of movement or freedom, the best way to keep a Sea Maiden on dry land is to just stuff them in a giant glass jar and fill it with water. The problems with that lay in the fact that such things are often too big and too wieldy to be properly used, and is often seen as just a waste of resources. I mean, it’s just a big ass glass jar with a helluva lot of water in it, you could do a lot of better things with glass then a giant jar to hold idiotic Sea Maidens.

“I’m surprised that the Sea King hasn’t tried to rescue his daughter yet.” I said, “At least by way of mercs, that is.”

Me, Granny, and John were looking over a map of the area, the Duke’s home was a bright red dot on it, and it was smack dab in the middle of an uphill plateau miles away from the sea. No matter how powerful the Sea King’s magic was, there’s only so far the ocean could reach. The plateau itself was called Pruce (a name that I cannot recall without laughing), and there was another town a bit to the southwest though, only a little bit away from Andro’s, though this was one was verging on the edge of city judging by how big it was. The map called it Plaih Plein.

As soon as I read that, I erupted into laughter.

“These lands are generally peaceful, or at the very least, generally boring.” John said, ignoring my outburst, “There’s not a lot of reason for mercs to come here, or at least, the ones that are strong enough to actually accomplish that task.”

As I began to calm down, I could understand what he meant, aside from the Duke Milford and the other Overlord, there wasn’t much to do around here. No ancient temples, no thriving cities (though that does give me an idea), hell, there wasn’t even a boring village with a windmill to burn down so some hero could rise.

...On that note, I made a mental look out for any Heroic types that might show up around here. I could handle myself in a fight, but I don’t think I could last very long against a veteran hero.

As I thought about this, Alice was kind enough to bring us some tea. I still would’ve prefered coffee, but I’ll take what I can get.

Giving the girl a warm smile to show that I meant no harm, I accepted the tea with both hands and said, “Thank you kindly.”

“There’s nothing kind about you, demon!” Alice shrieked, hurting my ears with her sheer volume alone.

Well, that was rude.

“Alice!” John yelled, “Be nice to our guests!”

“It’s fine,” I said, holding up one hand, “I don’t expect to be welcomed here, but...” I gave Alice a pointed, narrow look, “I do expect to be tolerated.” I gave the last word a distinct emphasis to make my point clear. I could handle being named called, but if Alice’s misgivings ever got out of hand, I would do what I deemed necessary.

Which would be a time out in a corner.

What? I’m a demon, not a bully. The only way I’d even consider doing her any actual harm would be if...I dunno, she came at me in a rabid zeal, and not in a good way either, and even then, I probably wouldn’t kill her. The girl hasn’t seen a day of combat, it’d be like picking on a baby. It will accomplish nothing but make you look like moron.

But still, I think she took my message a little too far, since the color drained out of her face again. I resisted the urge to plant my palm against my face and returned my attention to John, offering him an apologetic look for my action.

Which he took in grace, and coughed, “Alice, why don’t you go spend some time in the study? You should really begin reading on mathematics.”

Alice sighed, but took heed of his advice and left.

“...Tell me something,” I began as I watched Alice go, “Is she single?”

From the looks I got, that was not what Granny and John were expecting to hear….which is exactly why I said it.

Their reactions were a mixed bunch, Granny was confused, but keeping calm. Shame, I was hoping to get a bit more out the woman, John, on the other hand, was the exact opposite, his face turned a bright shade of red, and he sputtered out his next words in a confused huff of warm air. I couldn’t really understand any of it, but I just smiled at him calmly in reply…which only confused him more, for some reason.

“Remind me again, what kind of demon are you?” Granny asked.

“I told you, I’m an Overlord.” I replied, turning towards her.

“No, I mean, what kind of demon?” Granny repeated, “Vampire, werewolf…”

“Oh….Oh!” I exclaimed, now that I got what she was saying, I showed her my fangs, “Hybrid, actually. My mother was a succubus.”

“That explains it.” Granny nodded, but raised an eyebrow, “But you don’t look like any succubi I’ve seen.”

“Oh….” I coughed, “Let’s just say I should have listened to mom more and leave it at that.”

My answer seemed to satisfy her and I left it at that, but to get back on topic…. “Anyway, my parents aren’t really important right now. What is important is what we’re going to do. The long and short of it is, we need to get to get these waters flowing with fish again, and that foolish duke is floundering our chances.”

Why yes, I did just pull an alliterative out of my head, you’re welcome. Also, did Granny say she’s see other Succubi? What kind of life has she lead….

“What do you propose?” John asked, shaking me out of my thoughts.

I thought for a moment, “Have either of you two have been to a ball?”

Of course, I wouldn’t expect them to agree to my plan right away, that would just be stupid, but at the moment, I needed some time to actually think. My plan was as follows: Intrude upon the Duke’s Ball rudely and dramatically, I make a big speech about how I will rule this land and burn his castle down. While I’m off being a Demon lord, I wanted Granny and John (and/or whoever else I could grab), to grab the Sea Maiden’s jar and put her into a cart, then which we will drag it into the sea and drop her off. With the princess returned, there was no reason for the Sea Maidens not to patrol these waters anymore. It would take a while for the fish to come back, but it was better to start sooner or later.

Now, if anything out of that sounded like a comedy routine, you would be right. But sadly, the only other thing I could think of was “Break everything,” which wouldn’t fair well with John and Granny.

Now, you don’t need to tell me there are holes in this plan. For starters, I don’t know where the Sea Princess actually is, what kind of container she’s in, what kind of guard duty the guy had, or how we would avoid being captured even if we managed to escape from the ball. These were just a few of the worries I had in my mind as I leaned against a random wall in the center of town. After me and Granny had left John’s home, Granny had decided to go to the store to procure some groceries for tonight’s dinner.

I mean, that was nice of her….I was planning to hunt for food, or something…

Anyway, I was currently deep in thought, trying to figure out my next move. My first gut instinct was to go over to the Duke’s land of Pruce (HA) and scout things out, try to get the lay of the land. So, who was putting up with the Duke, who worked for him and so on.

Slight problem with that, I was a demon, I’d stick out like a sore thumb.

As I mumbled and growled over my problems, I noticed something about the townspeople in front of me.

They weren’t really looking at me.

Now, before you say I’m narcissistic, what I mean by that is, they weren’t looking at me. They’re heads were down, focused solely on whatever was in front of them with a dour expression on all their faces. They were completely and utterly avoiding my gaze, and everyone else's for that matter.

How can I put it in a metaphor….How about….I was a splash of red and black in a sea of greys. Hell, even Granny’s brown coat and John’s blue vest would stick out just as much as I do in this place. It was depressing, to be honest. Where was the color, the life? I couldn’t rule over these people, it’d be like ruling over a group of mindless drones, and while that might work for some Overlords, it would suck for me. These guys had no drive, no will, whether it was beaten down by life or the place they lived in, the truth of the matter was that without a drive to do...anything, they were about as useless as the shit you find on the side of the road. I guess, at first, they were surprised by me, if only a little. But now that I was just leaning against the wall, they probably thought I was of no real importance, and left me to my own devices.

So, that meant I could add in another problem to my growing list of problems. Yay.

Right then, what should I do first?

Well...there should be a school around here somewhere, where the kids would hang out. I should also visit the local fisherman’s guild, or what passed for it around here...then maybe I should stop by the library, if there was one. If not, I would have to find a way to build one.

��….And there should be a church, or something. Again, if there wasn’t, I’d have to build one later. What? I don’t care what people worship so long as they remember who's in charge (I.E: ME.).

First stop, the school.

Now, when you picture a school, you’d normally expect a kind young woman graciously teaching the kids and everyone loves her, or you expect a complete hellhole where the rules are viciously enforced and no one likes going there. Both of these expectations are completely understandable, we all have varied experiences in our school life, some good, some bad, but at the end of the day, we all picture school as a place where we sit down and listen to somebody talk for an hour, or if you’re a teacher, you’ll do the talking while counting the days to retirement.

Okay, picturing all that? Good, now crumple that picture into a ball and throw it into the nearest trash can. The school of Andros was neither of those two things. It was a small shack on the edge of town where children gathered for about four hours a day, then went back to help their parents at their jobs. The teacher was a tired old woman, kinda portly, I vaguely wondered if she was related to Granny at, what with that glare she shot me with as I opened the door to the shack.

I kinda wondered what the kids thought of me as I entered the shack, some had wide eyed faces as this demonic lady entered without an announcement, others hadn’t so much as lifted an eyebrow, and...there was that little elf girl I saw earlier. She gave a small gasp of surprise as she saw me, but I paid her no mind, the teacher was who I was focused on.

“Hello.” I greeted calmly, “I just wanted to let you all know, I’m your new Overlord.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the children, a human boy, raise their hand. Inching my gaze to him, I nodded, “Yes?” I asked.

“Are you evil?” He asked.

“Yep.” I replied.

“How evil?”

I gave off a cocky smirk, “Very evil.”

“Ooooohhh.” The boy oooh’ed.

I’ve always liked kids, believe it or not. So young, so full of life...so easy to control, so easy to mold. Just give a kid a decent mother figure, and they’ll follow you for about ten years before they become teenagers, then they’ll follow no one and will probably throw a temper tantrum or two. Or listen to angsty teenage music while wearing black...oorrr swear vengeance on you for some reason like, “You killed my family!” Or something like that, while wearing black.

Kids were weird.

“Is there a reason why you’re here?” The teacher asked, as I looked over the kids, I smiled evilly, which, in adult terms, just meant a cocky smirk.

“Oh, I thought I’d look over the young bloods of this town.” I said casually, “See how they’re doing.”

“Really.” The teacher said, not buying it at all. Good woman, you can stay.

“Yep!” I repeated with a beaming smile, “So, what’s the lesson plan for today?”

“We’re...learning the alphabet.” The teacher said, looking down at her book, which I realized was in horrible condition. Like, it was barely holding together, sheesh, remind me to get these kids some proper textbooks.

“....Is that it?” I asked, looking around the room. Some of these kids had to be at least six or seven, they should already know how to read…Or...do they? “Hey, show of hands, who here knows how to read?”

Out of them all, only the elf girl raised her hand.

“...Okay, Teach, new plan. You teach them math, I’ll teach them the alphabet.”

“....Come again?”

“I have like, three degrees.” I said plainly, looking her in the eye, “Trust me, by the time I’m done, these kids will able to write in ancient elvish. Besides, it’s better if two people handle this instead of just one. If you need further proof of who I am, feel free to ask the mayor about me.”

The teacher, despite her surprised look, couldn’t help but nod at my suggestion. Perhaps it was because she was grateful for the additional help, perhaps it was because she was tired of dealing with kids. Either way, it was important I connected with the kids of this small town while I could.

As much as I wish I could say it was out of the goodness of my heart (yeah right), it was actually because, well, kids made good spies. Even if they didn’t realize it themselves, kids were naturally connected to everywhere in town, and being their “teacher” would mean I could be in constant contact with them.

Meanwhile, the kids on the other hand, went “ooohhh” and “awwww” at the thought of getting a new teacher who looked a lot better than the old hag in front of them.

Looking at the teacher, I smiled politely, “Let’s meet up later to discuss the curriculum. I live in the old mansion at the swamp, but be sure to tell me where you live so we can meet up for chats.” I said.

“Of course.” She replied.

Nodding, I turned around and headed for the exit.

Or, I would have if the elf girl hadn’t tugged on my coat.

Looking down in confusion, she looked up at me and beamed, “Does this mean that you’re gonna rule us?”

“And teach ya.” I said.

“Yeeeee.” The child squealed, her eyes lighting up like stars, and for the record no, that was not a metaphor, her eyes literally lit up and started glowing. That was...weird, who was this kid?

I filed that under “weird shit” in my head, but I smiled at the little kid and gently brushed her hands away. Walking away from the...school, I hesitate to call it that, I made my way over to the local fishing guild.

Well, to call it a guild would be a bit much, in reality, it was just a couple of workshops strapped together where fish were hauled in. The men there were...uh, how can I put this...They weren’t...uh, strapping lads, if you got my meaning. Most of them were old men, skinny young teens, or just guys who looked likely they desperately needed a break. Approaching one of the fisherman, his skin dark and red, obviously he was recovering from a workout or he was in dire need of some sleep, because he was slumping against a wall and breathing heavily.

“Hello.” I greeted calmly, “I’m here for the head of the guild, I heard his name was…”

“Her name, demon.” A gruff voice said from behind me.

Well, that was rude. Frowning, I turned to the sound of the voice and-Oh la la….

Standing in front of me was one hell of a half orc. She stood strong, proud, and had black hair tied into an eye patch. A cutlass hanged at her side, a flintlock pistol strapped into a thigh holster, and she had on the clothes that made every swashbuckler look so...dashing.

Sadly, the only thing that was missing was the hat, every good swashbuckler needed a hat. A nice, big hat with a feather.

“Oh, hello.” I said, brushing back some of my hair as I did, “Are you the owner of this fine establishment?” I asked.

To my surprise though, the Half orc shook her head, and stepped to the side.

There, looking cross and...well, short, was an orange haired, middle aged halfling. Her work apron was covered in fish guts and she had a pair of goggles strapped over her head. She was actually pretty tall for a halfling, coming up to my waist, almost enough to be mistaken for a dwarf, not to mention she was packing a lot of muscle, I mean, I’m not short. If it wasn’t for the fur on her feet, I would’ve legitimately thought she was a dwarf.

Regardless though, this was something of a letdown. Sigh, it’s never what I want, is it?

“Are you the owner?” I asked, trying to keep my disappointment off my face. Evidently, it didn’t work, because the halfling frowned and stepped up to my stomach. There was still a height difference, mind you, but the halfling didn’t seem to care. If anything, she made up the lack of height in emotional weight.

“Yes, I am the owner of this little hovel, and let me two things straight with you, Ms. Sakall.” Oh, good, she knew who I was, thank the gods, “One: I do not appreciate some hotly totty demon lord trying to wedge in on my business, second, keep your eyes off my cousin.”

I blinked in confusion, cousin? Did I hear that right? Replaying what she said in my head, over and over again, I tried to figure out a way a half orc could be related to a halfling. I mean, aside from the obvious “half”’s in their names, there’s not a lot of ways for them to be related.

Apparently, the Halfling had mind reading powers of her, since she slapped me in the thigh, “She’s adopted you nitwit!” The halfling yelled at me.

“Okay, A, that’s rude.” I said, “B, who are you?”

“My name’s Bellmerry William. You can call me Bell.” Bell told me. Okay, good, nicknames, that meant she could be less intense....hopefully.

“And your cousin?” I asked, glancing at the half orc, who had been keeping up a somewhat irritated expression this entire time.

“Razi.” Bell said, and I waited for her to finish.

“....And?” I asked.

“She’s just Razi.” Bell said, crossing her arms, undoubtedly very amused by this confused Demon Lord.

“No last name?”

“Nope.”

“....She doesn’t talk a lot, does she?”

“Nope.” Bell repeated, glancing at her cousin with a smile. Razi, in turn, smiled back.

“Well then.” I clapped my hands together, “Is there anywhere else we talk? I prefer to have this kind of discussion...” I glanced around, some heads have turned our way, “In private.”

As it turns out, Bell did.

And that “private place” was a ship’s cabin.

The S.S Blitzkrieg rocked gently back and forth, it was a nice ship, really. From what I understood from the sailors, it, aside from being Andros’ only ship, was a Brig class. A sort of compromise between a larger man o’war smaller gunboat or schooner, which was nice for long distance seafaring, like going out into deep sea, but uh, for a port town whose main income was fish? Not a good idea. Don’t get me wrong, it could bring in fish, but it wasn’t purpose built for the task. The Blitzkrieg itself was a sort of moldy green, with a white wing sail over the tallest mast. It didn’t have any cannons on the top deck, sadly, but it did have a lot of room for cargo in the bottom.

Now, I want to make this one other point clear, I read all of this from a book, all of this information is pre-thought.

Because about five minutes after I had set foot on that dang boat, I was leaning over the railings and resisting the urge to lose my lunch. I was not good on boats. They just rocked so much.

Obviously, Bell took great amusement at my current predicament, which she expressed through hearty laughter.

“Ha! Demon Queen, I thought for sure you had sea legs!” She laughed at me, how cruel was this woman?

“Uurrrggghh…..” Was my clever response. I hated to admit it, but she was right. I had no stomach, literally or figuratively, for sea travel. Every time I got on a ship I felt wobbly, hell, even thinking about being on a ship at sea would make me lose my lunch. Why? Well, let’s just say that once, my dad took me to a ship once, I fell off the ship, and that’s why I get seasick easy.

Patting me on the back, Bell just continued to enjoy my suffering with a laugh, “Ha, maybe you would prefer to do this meeting on solid ground?”

Despite how tempting that offer was, I would have to refuse it. I had to establish that I could hold myself well in places that I wasn’t accustomed to. More to the point, I had to prevent Bell from setting the tone of our relationship, if we were to work together, it had to be on even terms.

Casting a discrete healing spell on myself, I managed to quell some of the nausea I felt and stood up a bit straighter. Turning to face Bell, I put on a calm expression, “So, Ms. William, I trust you know a little of my story, and I know a little of yours, but what I don’t understand is how these waters became so taxed. I know that the Duke kidnapped a Sea Maiden, but…”

“But you’re thinking that ain’t the only cause?” Bell finished.

I nodded, “I learned a long time ago that things are rarely black and white.”

“Well, you’re not wrong.” Bell said, moving to lean over the railing next to me, “The Sea Maiden played a large part, to be sure, but that’s just one problem. The other Demon Lord is the other.”

“I figured as much.” I nodded.

“Yep, don’t know that fool’s name, but when the Sea Maiden got herself captured, wanna know what that idiot did? He tried to “wage war” on the Sea Kingdom.”

“...Their capital is like, six hundred miles away, underwater.” I gaped.

Bell nodded, “Yep, but he didn’t exactly care about that, so he figured that he could, you know, starve them out, so he had his boys take up fishing.”

“But Sea Maidens don’t even eat fish.” I said, “Don’t they eat, like, kelp or something?”

“Like I said, he’s a fool. From what I can gather, he’s got lots of power, but not a lot of brains.”

I could understand what she meant, a lot of Demon Lords were usually pretty strong in combat, but, like some kind of divine trade off, not a lot had brains, but usually those very same Lords were killed off by adventuring heroes by exploiting said lack of brains. After all, it didn’t matter you could bench press a castle if you couldn’t move from a powerful ice spell. Sometimes I wonder if their lack of brainpower was because of one too many hits on the head, on the flipside though, Demon Lords that were smart, usually had a lack of power because they spent a lot of time reading or planning. Those Lords also went down because, well, you can only plan for so much before someone caves your skull in with a hammer. The Demon Lords that had brains and brawn both were few and far between, and I could probably count them on both of my hands.

So, that would mean my neighbor was probably either very lucky, or very powerful, either way, I would have to plan my steps carefully.

Still, taking care of those two were the most immediate steps, but for the time being, I would have to focus on the Duke. He was probably easier to handle, and no one would miss him. Still, that did raise the question, how was he staying in power all this time? He had to have some pretty powerful connections, because the local human kingdoms should be breathing down his neck…

Hm, must have a friend higher up, or something.

“Okay, that’s another problem to worry about.” I muttered, returning to lean on the rails.

“What is?” Bell asked.

“Oh, just wondering how Milford is still in business. Like it or not, kidnapping the Sea Princess has a lot of ramifications, I’m honestly surprised that he hasn’t let her go yet.” I said, “He’s probably got a few connections.”

“Probably.”

“So tell me something,” I began, “Let’s say a best case scenario happens and the fish start coming back, how long....”

“How long until we can start fishing safely again?” Bell guessed.

“Yeah.” I nodded.

“Well...if the maidens let us, I’d say about a year or two.”

I winced, “That long?”

“Yep, and even then, I’d imagine that they’ll be sticky about what we can take.” Bell finished, clearly following my train of thought.

“Great.” I slumped, “I’m gonna have grey hairs before I’m thirty….”

Bell patted me on the back again, this time a bit more comforting, “If it makes ya feel any better, most people are sick of Milford’s antics too. Somebody’s bound to remove that idiot from power.”

“And I’m grateful for that,” I nodded, “But here’s the thing, it also needs to be me. If Andros is to stand on it’s own two feet again, it needs to establish itself. If someone from the human kingdoms takes Milford down, that Demon Lord will probably move in and take over the area, including Andros.”

Bell raised an eyebrow, “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the difference between you and him?”

I snorted, “I, at the very least, am willing to hear what other people have to say. If I didn’t...well, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we?”

“True enough, but won’t the demon lord move in even if you’re the one to put him under?” Bell asked.

I considered what she said, and I nodded, “You’re not wrong, if I take Milford down, then the other Demon Lord, whose name I should learn, is probably going to try to move in...but…but…” I sighed, “If I can, I’ll try to bargain with some of the human authorities to up the pressure on him, using the Sea Princess as a bargaining chip.”

Bell’s eyes widened, “You mean to say that-”

I held up my hand, “And if I did have the Sea Princess in my grasp, I would, in fact, plan on returning her to her family. The Sea King would be in my debt, after all. I just need the Humans to keep the other Lord distracted, that’s all. Sides, hopefully it won’t even come to that. With the Sea Princess freed, the Humans have no reason not to force their navy on the Demon Lord.”

“You’ve thought this through.” Bell noted, and I smiled in return.

“Just bits and pieces.” I replied.

“Hm, that reminds me, have you visited the coopers yet?”

“...I don’t think I need to visit any blacksmiths.” I replied, a little confused by Bell’s question. Coopers? I wasn’t aware that Andros had any sort of craftsman who specialized in that sort of thing.

“No.” Bell shook her head, “I mean the cops.”

“Oh. OH.” I blinked, realizing at last what Bell was getting at, “....Wait, you guys have actual police?”

Huh, what a shock.

#devil's advocate #my work #original #Maleah Sakall #Fantasy #Web Novel

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