#isolde graves

[celest-star-collection]

I am so bad at sharing art consistently but AAAA here is my attempt

Was having trouble figuring out her appearance/body type but here it is, a character idea I have had for a while that I finally made with one of my wives, Artemis @glassknight and a bestie Sami @shadowchroma

Name: Anima Grave ["Soul; Breath; Spirit"]

Real name: Isolde Briarrose ["Fair lady; Iron ruler, Ice ruler; Thorny Rose"]

Origin: Lapis Manalis a small village in Cerulean Ingens, Ilsabard

Occupation: Butcher, Now "Warrior of Darkness" Anima Primal Proxy

Ancient name: TBA

Nameday: 10/31

Race: Garlean/Midlander, Hyur

Gender: Female

Age: ~28 (ARR)

Sexuality: Demisexual

Height: 5'2”

Relationship status: Single, Uninterested at the moment

Fighting style: (MNK) -> later (RPR)

Fighting style: Agile, swift, very mobile and a lot of aerial movements/flips. Will go for the knockout/kill shot when open. Will steal the LB from Tsu

Trivia:

- Due to being the proxy of a primal Isolde ages much much slower than she should. Aging a year for every 5-10 after she reached her prime.

- Grew up knowing and having been raised around reapers so she has the aptitude for it but not the skills yet at the start. After meeting Drusilla again after 20 years the old woman decided to train them properly for it.

- Is obsessed with death, animals and plants, has a hard time understanding people but would like to try.

- Alyx is the oldest of the group, follower by Tsu and then Anima.

- Her chocobo's name is Corpseguard, he is a pure black chocobo

Tsukuyomi is Sami’s girl and Alyxander is Arte’s.

Base for the first made by DesireeU on DA.

[jeeliebeeliegoomiebear]

On Isolde and Many Doors (and One Key)

Thinking about Isolde and how she feels like she is constantly trapped in a small cramped room full of 1 million doors. Each door represents a presence that haunts her, an identity that lives inside her that calls to her from beyond the grave, a new mask to dawn.

If every person in the world were to have a room, most would have just one door, their own. But not Isolde.

Isolde feels like an empty vessel who is only there to serve as a point of entry for other people and their spirits. She has been forced to become so repressed by her environment, upbringing, and her nature as a medium that she finds it easy to forget herself. Her “self” is not someone she has ever been allowed to know.

The room grows increasingly smaller, claustrophobic and strangling her with pressure as the amount of doorways in it only increase, every new person she meets a new doorway she is plagued with, a new voyeur who has granted themselves full access to her life and her body. Something she is now willing to let them do. It is easier that way. Easier to let someone else command her vessel, something that never solely belonged to her to begin with. An escape from all the pressure, the expectations, the perfection demanded from her. It is something she should do. The duty of someone like her. Something to hide her wretched face from view, to give the people what they want, to uphold her family’s legacy. A performance that was never allowed to end. Each new door lead right back to that.

The only exception is Kakania. The only person Isolde believes has ever really seen her as more than a host for other identities or something to mold into shape, prop up as a set piece. A perfect lady. The star of Vienna. A tragic heroine. A dangerous hysteric witch. A curse manifested. The only one who was ever interested in finding Isolde’s door and that door alone. When she is with Kakania, a new door does not appear in that ever shrinking empty room, although at first she expects it to. For the first time she meets someone and is not greeted with a new ghost to haunt her. Not a door. But a key. A key that Isolde knows can unlock her own door, even when she herself cannot find it.

[morelightt]

"DEATH IS THE MOTHER OF BEAUTY"

- literary examples of death as tragic and beautiful in its terror

Ophelia, a beautiful, innocent girl created by Shakespeare, torn by emotions so much that in despair for her lost love, she throws herself into the arms of the river, drowning. This is clearly seen in Millais's painting. Despite her death, a young girl resists the influence of filthy water on the human body. Pale but healthy skin, rosy cheeks and pink lips desperately taking their last breath. A tragic moment captured in such a calm way. Ophelia remains forever beautiful and immortal in the eyes of the viewer.

"Perfume" by Patrick Süskind, a novel about a murderer who tries to capture the most beautiful smell. The smell of death in the form of perfume made from a young body. His victims are again little girls who die in a tragic, sometimes even parodic way, being brutally mercilessly harmed. But in the main character's eyes they still shine like stars in the sky, filling him with pure exhilaration. Especially that one woman who is his eternal inspiration.

Baudelaire creates something similar in the poem "the death of lovers". The couple on its deathbed is not concerned about the coming end. Their love seems to bloom even more, surrounded by fragrant flowers that fill their souls with peace and joy.

Finally, the story of Tristan and Isolde, another lovers, on whose grave a hawthorn grows. A symbol of their eternal love. From their dead bodies, corrupted by decay, something amazing in its beauty is created bearing witness to their everlasting connection.

It reminds me of the words of Edvard Munch: "From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity"

Writers, poets, whole literature itself create death in various ways. But showing it as a gateway to beauty is something particularly special. How death can it be glamorous, artistic and pleasing for our eyes. How to find it among tragedy, mourning, rotten skin and that disgusting smell of decay. And why show it this way at all?

"Because the world is so full of death and horror, I try again and again to console my heart and pick the flowers that grow in the midst of hell" - Hermann Hesse

[u2fangirlie-blog]

Good Omens Aziraphale's Sad Bastard Breakup Playlist

After the breakup, Aziraphale has a new job in heaven, having taken Gabriel’s vacant position. Aziraphale is haunted by sad music reminding him of his time with Crowley. The songs are dramatic, tragic, melancholic, angry, wistful, romantic, and sentimental. How does he listen to music at his new job in the head office? Are material objects allowed? Does he keep a secret stash of tea, cake, and records and a phonograph player in his office? Does he have a celestial radio that can tune in Earth radio stations? Does he sneak off to Earth to hang out in record shops and bookstores? Or more dramatically and emotionally torturously, does he remember every note, every nuance, every feeling, of every song and replay them in his mind? He's stuffing his face with angel food cake and tea while crying and listening to sad bastard songs and hiding from Michael and the Metatron.

See note after list on song selection process.

Songs include:

“Lacrimosa” – Mozart, Requiem in D Minor, Vienna Mozart Orchestra

“Commendatore” – Mozart, Don Giovanni, Amadeus film soundtrack

“Ja, tot katoramu vnimala” – Rubenstein, The Demon, Nicolai Ghiaurov

“D’amour l’ardente flemme” – Berlioz, The Damnation of Faust, Maria Callas

“Liebestod” – Wagner, Tristan and Isolde, Waltraud Meier

“Ach ich fuhls” – Mozart, The Magic Flute, Gundula Janowitz

“Thy hand, Belinda … When I am laid in earth” – Purcell, Dido and Aeneas, Janet Baker

“E lucevan la stelle” – Puccini, Tosca, Placido Domingo

“Celeste Aidia” – Verdi, Aida, Mario Lanza

“Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen” Mahler, Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau

“Der Wanderer” – Schubert, Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau

“Love is a Plaintive Song” – Gilbert and Sullivan, Patience, D’Oyly Carte Opera Company

“I am a Courtier Grave and Serious” – Gilbert and Sullivan, The Gondoliers, D’Oyly Carte Opera Company

“The Gentleman is a Dope” – Rodgers and Hammerstein, Allegro, Blossom Dearie

“A Hymn to Him” – Lerner and Lowe, My Fair Lady, Rex Harrison

“Could I Leave You?” – Sondheim, Follies, Alexis Smith

“We Do Not Belong Together” – Sondheim, Sunday in the Park with George, Bernadette Peters and Mandy Patinkin

“On My Own” – Schonberg, Les Misérables, Frances Ruffelle

“As Long as He Needs Me” – Bert, Oliver, Judy Garland

 “Stranger in Paradise” – Wright and Forest, Kismet, Richard Kiley and Doretta Morrow

“A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square” – Sherwin and Maschwitz, Vera Lynn

“Night and Day” – Porter, The Gay Divorcee, Ella Fitzgerald

“I’ve Got You Under My Skin” – Porter, Born to Dance, Shirley Bassey

“Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered” – Rodgers and Heart, Pal Joey, Sarah Vaughan

“They Can’t Take That Away From Me” – Gershwin, Shall We Dance, Fred Astaire

“Mon Deu” – Dumont and Vaucaire, Edith Piaf

“Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien” – Dumont and Vaucaire, Edith Piaf

P.S.: Aziraphale likes Les Mis because it reminds him of that time Crowley rescued him from the Bastille. Don't tell anyone. It's a big secret.

P.P.S.: “Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered” reminds him of the time he and Crowley got drunk in the backroom at the bookshop the day the anti-Christ was delivered to Earth. Basically, this song reminds him of every time they went out for drinks or stayed in and drank.

P.P.P.S.: “I am a Courtier Grave and Serious” was the song Aziraphale planned to play when trying to tempt Crowley into learning the gavotte. It reminds him of the ball in the bookstore when he finally danced with Crowley.

P.P.P.P.S.: “Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien” is as close as Aziraphale can get to telling the world and Crowley to eff off. He has no more effs to give. Or at least he’s trying to convince himself he no longer gives a f***. He’s going off to his new job at the head office and Do Good.

Note on song selection:

I selected songs that thematically fit with the relationship between Aziraphale and Crowley. I think the songs tell a story of Aziraphale’s struggle to reconcile his conflicted motivations. They reflect Aziraphale’s fears and desires. He fears being hauled off to hell for disobedience. He fears Crowley’s death and being alone in the world. He desires to be emotionally intimate with Crowley. (Dare he risk physical intimacy with Crowley?) He feels self-righteously indignant, but he’s soft and squishy and weepy and misses his best friend.

I don’t have much knowledge of opera or musical theater, but I have some experience with choir and solo performance. I did a lot of research into opera, art songs, musicals, showtunes, and standards to create a playlist on YouTube. Selections were based on availability, popularity, and sound quality. My big question was whether or not Aziraphale is a strict originalist or if he likes different versions of songs. In some places, I chose newer versions over original versions due to the sound quality of the recordings. I tried to keep selections accessible to a wide audience with varying degrees of musical knowledge. You may not like my choices, so your mileage may vary. You can make your own playlist.

You can listen to it on YouTube.

[kaviiinsky]

If you have an answer not on this list (or I’m forgetting something obvious) tell me in the tags!!

[beyourselfchulanmaria]

「 你是對的，  我不知道生命是否比死亡更偉大，但愛比兩者都重要。

You were right, I don't know if life is greater than death but love was more than either.」

─Tristan said to Isolde before he died. 《movie : 王者之心 Tristan & Isolde, 2006》

TRISTAN & ISOLDE - Forever Entwined /A fan made edit via the film -Tristan & Isolde from 2006 /Hope you enjoy my edit of this gem of such a rare film. I wish dedicate this video to my wife and our little baby girl which we named ~Izolde Briar. Enjoy.

With music A time for us written by Nino Rota and the best version of the song I felt a fit for this content is by Andre Rieu.

Tristan & Iseult - "Forever Entwined" for as history relays, as they rested two trees appeared out of their graves, grew in strength and could not be parted…

Legend has it it was a Briar bush (Isolde) and a Hazelnut Tree (Tristan)

text by Philippe T, he made video and his channel @philippet2492 on YouTube ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Thanks~*

[randomgentlefolk]

CPC CHAPTER 169

I swear I gotta put up a reminder or smth man I can't keep posting these posts just 2 hours before the new damn episode

(I must admit, making a review for this episode is kinda difficult)

ISOLDE TO THE RESCUE!! Also I just remember that Maria is still afraid (?) Of Isolde lmao XD

I was wondering where the old guard went :') the fact that he fell asleep during a WAR is honestly impressive though.

WAIT WAIT WAIT NO I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT LELAND BUT BLAINE???? BLAINE FELL??? But before I go to that I must say that plant holding Leland's leg is strong AF. What kinda root does it have...

The parallel of Frederick ripping his sleeves to cover Gwen's wound and then Gwen ripping Maria's blanket to save Leland.

WH. OHHHHHH. OH DAMN OH MAN. YOOOOOOOO. I DID NOT EXPECT THAT. Wait so I'm guessing here that Isolde forged Leland's signature? But when did she send that letter? Was it sent during the war? If yes then the process is really quick! It's just one day.

Honestly I'm so glad Isolde wrote that she's going to take the throne until her sons are ready because they CANNOT rule the whole damn kingdom right now with that mental state. And I honestly love the idea of all of them ruling the kingdom instead of just one of them.

WAIT WAIT WAIT This is what I'm getting but correct me if I'm wrong. I'm guessing Leland signed on the pastry catalogue and gave it back to isolde and that's how Isolde can forge his signature? That's actually really smart.

And she kinda bribed (more like raising their salary, really) the Parliament so they'd accept it right away!! Also by giving them more power! HAH And there's more power for Lavern lmaooo

Aaaannndddd the omniscient clam comment is literally just digging his own grave xd

HECK YEAH JERRY TO THE RESCUE!! FINALLY NAME REVEAL!!! Tho ngl I really thought the lemoncillo was for a molotov cocktail or smth XD

Syrah.............

WAIT DAMN ISOLDE HAS POWER OVER JUDGE, JURY, AND EXECUTIONER???? She really thought it through.

Damn...spoken like a true queen (and she IS a queen!). You go Isolde!!

Ooooh that sentence "what more did you want?".... Leland fr needed to hear that. I mean okay man I get it, your bestfriend said he doesn't need you behind your back and that hurts. Words can hurt like shit, I get it. But that does NOT mean you can just, declare a whole damn war. You can always, y'know, continue to live your life knowing there are people you SHOULD love and people who loves you. Also I gotta add that Jack was probably stressing the fuck out in that moment. His wife is literally dying, dude. There's a chance that he might say things that don't seem right because of impulsiveness. And y'know what if it really bothers you that much, COMMUNICATE. DAMNIT.

Did I say all of those right? I hope I did.

I gotta say I love Isolde even more now. That "off with his head" caught me off guard like I know sometimes we joke about that but I didn't actually think that would happen. Cpc is always about redemption and stuff after all. But now I'm genuinely wondering if Leland should actually be executioned. War, abuse, torture, those should get life sentence right?

So I'm guessing he's going to prison then? Fancy words sometimes gets me mixed up.

OH!! IT GLOWS BECAUSE OF HER KINDNESS, I'M ASSUMING? THAT'S AMAZING. Also the fact that she offered to help the man who just tried to kidnap her...We don't deserve Gwen fr.

So, uh...Blaine? Yeah where is he? I'm theorizing that the tent Nell moved will save him but he should still have some injuries. And the chances are he will break at least one bone. I don't think tents are that soft. But I'm willing to hope that he will be perfectly fine....physically.

Well that's all for now!

Mono out! (But still in to hear your thoughts)

[ventxekart]

Voice Actors for SIGNALIS?

Three years ago I posted a list of voice actors whom I thought could play the various characters from the game VA-11 HALL-A: Cyberpunk Bartending Action.

I semi-recently composed a similar list albeit one that focuses on the characters from SIGNALIS instead. Here are the contents of said list:

Mary Elizabeth McGlynn as LSTR-512 "Elster."

Kara Eberle as Ariane Yeong.

Amanda "AmaLee" Lee (AKA Monarch) as Isolde "Isa" Itou.

Antonio Greco as ADLR-S2301 "Adler."

Jennifer Dawne Graveness as FLKR-S2301 "Falke"

Mary Kae Irvin Lindsey as the surviving STAR units.

Cristina Vee as the surviving EULR units.

Paula Jean Hixson as the lone surviving ARAR unit.

Talya Pulver-Lindqvist as STCR-S2307 "Sieben."

Dawn M. Bennett as KLBR-S2302 "Kolibri."

Samantha Dakin as MHNR-S2301 "Beo."

Also, as a bonus I could imagine Terri Brosius voicing over the various quotes from the various pieces of Eldritch Horror literature used in the game (IE: “Great holes secretly are digged where earth’s pores ought to suffice, and things have learnt to walk that ought to crawl.”)

[yume-tsuki]

Constantine and Tristan Several days had past since Tristan had come back from the jorney to safe his son and the other kids. But the fact his son was the only one who was heavily injured gave him a bad feeling. Also when they had returned Isolde was in her sickbed she had feld weak since a while. But started to recover when her husband and son returned. They sat together at Isolde's bed and listen to Constantine >>...then the man toss me in a hole without food for 3 days. I feld so depressed but then I heared a voice talking to me. And then I saw a real ghost! He told me he was ones a knight from Liones and a friend of daddy and you mommy.<< >> A knight? How does he had looked like sweety?<< Isolde's eyes start to get wet. >> I-I don't know anymore, but his name was Jade.<< Constantine saw his mother burst in happy tears. >>He safed our son, Tristan. I prayed that anyone should safe him and Jade came to help.<< Tristan needed a moment then he pulled Isolde on his chest. >>Maybe we should visit his grave tomorrow.<< >>Let's do it right now.<< >>But Isolde, you still weak.<< >>I can sit on a horse, you know?<< >>Fine, but when you feel bad we go home imidiatly.<< >>Ok, Pappi<< she grinned sassy to her husband. Together they visited Jade's grave, they builded it right infront of Liones so he could watch over the castle. It was already evening when Isolde walked into the little forest back home, before she looked behind herself, smiling proudly at Tristan and Constantine. >>Constantine.<< his father started. >> i was so worried sick, and when I saw your friends fine and you injured I feld so jealous. I'm sorry my son, I shouldn't have shown you this side of mine.<< Angsty Tristan looked at his son. >>Aren't you mad at your old man?<< Constantine looked from his father to the sinking sun, not knowing what to say. >>Percival told me not to feel this way, also your granddad. But it was difficult, I couldn't look my own son straight into the eyes.<< he then juggled >>When i listen to you before, I was so surprised. You were so brave. << He sighted and looked into his son eyes. >>I'm proud of you Constantine. And I'm not mad, that you lost an eye.<< He stroke through his sons face. >>Have i ever told you about the man you saw? Jade, the knight who safed your mothers live by sacrificing himself?<< >>You two can tell that later, come on it's getting dark soon.<< Isolde called them. >>I'm coming mom! Can you tell me later daddy?<< Tristan looked happy at his boy, Constantine was on distance to him, all the time since the jorney back home now they could talk to each other normal again. >>It seems I should have listen to my son way earlier... it would have been easier for both of us.<< he said to himself when his son joined his mother. Tristan turned back ones more looking to the grave.>>Thanks for safing my loved ones, ones more Jade. I will never forgett what you did. No one will; I promise.<<

[phoenix-flamed]

There was a momentary thought which crossed his mind.

It was curiosity as to what fate had befallen his personal stolas back at Rosalith Castle. Of course, the obvious answer was, "nothing good"; the owl was of no use to anyone except him, and all attempts to wrest free the last message he had entrusted within the creature's third eye would be met with failure. In fact, he was more than content that he had taken the intended recipient of that message's identity along with him to the grave, as well -- leaving that message to fade as a forgotten relic of Rosaria's past.

It had taken a hefty chunk of time, and considerable care while not only finding multiple stolases for purchase, but also selling Rosfield family trinkets and jewelry that Elwin had on hand to pay for the expensive birds -- but the day had finally arrived where Hanna returned to the Murdoch Estate in Eastpool with birdcages in hand.

The process of attuning to the owls was simple enough, and the creatures were quite amenable to bonding with their new owners afterwards. Elwin's seemed particularly keen on watching him as he worked late into the nights -- pouring over maps, jotting down notes, placing markers to indicate when a route had been blocked, and other markers to highlight alternative paths that they could take, in accordance with the nigh-constant changes within Rosaria's territory. The tides of power were constantly in flux under Imperial -- and Anabella's -- rule, and it was imperative that the trio remain vigilant regarding every last detail.

Especially once whispered rumors of rebels to the west made their way to their peaceful village on the east.

After much deliberation, a decision was made: Elwin would reach out to his younger brother in Port Isolde. Of course he was seeking information, but there was something more important -- and personal -- to the former Archduke, and that was a deep yearning to see Byron again after all these years. To know that his brother was unharmed... To speak, if only briefly, with the only family he had left, and beg forgiveness for not having reached out sooner.

And so in the latest hours of the night, the man was sat on the floor of his room with the stolas perched on his forearm, contemplating what words to convey in his offered message. It was not fear that the message would fall into the wrong hands that made him hesitate -- stolases were, after all, the most secure means of delivering important news, especially during military matters. No, it was something else; it was uncertainty of his own thoughts, of what to say after so long of silence, after so long of being dead.

A breath was inhaled sharply. The ever-present furrow of his brow deepened, and he closed his eyes briefly. When they reopened, he gazed into the owl's vibrant blue eyes, murmuring that ancient incantation while his free hand hovered over its forehead: "O mia lost elan. Tu isag elythe."

The reaction was immediate. The bird's eyes glowed, and its crystal "third eye" shone brilliantly in likewise manner, taking its master's thoughts into that gem upon its head and locking them there, with only Byron Rosfield able to open them with his innate key. Elwin stood with great care and moved towards the open window, then with a small nudge, the creature took flight and set off for the western port city.

The message to be delivered to Byron was as follows:

Dearest brother, Forgive me my silence, and that I cannot meet you under happier circumstances, as we oft had done in our younger years. Thus do I humbly request an audience with you, Lord Byron Rosfield -- should formality please you more than sentiment. You need but share your answer with my feathered friend here and send it on its way. It will find me and, Flames willing that your reply is a favorable one, I in turn will find you.

@eikonbound

[thedragonagelesbian]

The Fool: When has your character been excited to start a new journey?

The Devil: Does your character ever neglect their wild side?

The Magician in Reverse: When was your character manipulated?

The Empress in Reverse: When has your character felt dependent on another?

Judgment in Reverse: When has your character found it difficult to forgive themselves?

Major Arcana asks!

I'll go ahead and answer for my blood mage Surana, Luc!

The Fool: When has your character been excited to start a new journey?

For a lot of the game, Luc struggles with feeling just about any positive emotion, excitement included. Even leaving the Circle for the first time is soured by the 'pressed into the Grey Wardens under threat of dying/being made Tranquil for openly collaborating with Jowan' of it all.

By the end, though, he is excited to start his life after the Blight as (romanced) King Alistair's court enchanter. The intensity of that desire scares him (and causes a major breakdown in the AU where they break up after Alistair becomes king), but he's learning to trust these feelings and be comfortable with the idea that he actually has a future now that he wants for himself.

The Devil: Does your character ever neglect their wild side?

I don't think Luc has a wild side the way that I'd conceive of it as like uninhibited party animal, but he is a profoundly reckless character. See: the background context for Empress in Reverse and him deserting the party; mouthing off to a lot of authority figures; being a blood mage (and using that blood magic in really inopportune moments like, say, when clearing the Circle tower in front of Wynne, or in front of Ser Cauthrien before she arrests him for treason and drags him to Fort Drakon)

So it's less that Luc neglects his wild side and more that he sorely needs to stop trying to provoke the universe into delivering him an early grave so he can tell himself that he was making a choice in being destroyed. Developing a sense of responsibility and growing into the demands of a Grey Warden are huge parts of his character arc. He has to learn to be cautious & thoughtful enough to stay alive long enough to save the world.

The Magician in Reverse: When was your character manipulated?

Luc is pretty savvy and doesn't like being told what to do, which makes him harder to manipulate than some (/looks at Cyrus' overly trusting ass/). I think the one big exception is Zathrian. Luc really wants Zathrian to like him, because he reflexively respects and admires him and because he's never earned the approval of an elven authority figure before. He doesn't question Zathrian's story about the werewolves, their motives, and how to cure the infected Dalish elves, and he ends up siding with Zathrian instead of brokering peace.

The Empress in Reverse: When has your character felt dependent on another?

Background context: The party goes to Redcliffe first after Lothering, leading inevitably to the 'Isolde or Connor' decision. Luc chooses to kill Isolde to enter the Fade, and the ensuing fall-out between him and Alistair (after becoming very fast friends at Ostagar) is apocalyptic. Already being predisposed to avoid responsibility, Luc deserts with the intention of returning to the Circle. And if the templars kill him, well, better than the darkspawn.

...And then he (alone with the mabari who has dutifully followed him) runs into Zevran's ambush.

And Zevran quickly does the calculus of 'this isn't going to be the failed assassination ending in my death that I was hoping for, this is going to be the slaughter of a terrified elven mageling' and decides to save Luc instead.

Luc isn't great at gratitude, but he latches on to Zevran immediately afterward.

Judgment in Reverse: When has your character found it difficult to forgive themselves?

Not caring is a good way to avoid needing to forgive yourself for anything, but by extension Luc ends up feeling silly & childish when he does care, which usually manifests as ugly crying, and getting angry at himself for crying, and then crying harder. It's hard to forgive himself for feeling things.

I also think in the AU where he and Alistair break up (and Luc ends up with Zevran instead), Luc feels a good measure of regret for putting Alistair on the throne. It's not entirely against his wishes, since it was the 'hardened!Alistair kills Loghain and automatically declares himself to be the king' scenario, but Luc recognizes that his interest in pushing Alistair to be king was very selfish, wanting the safety & comfort that being the king's paramour would entail. But... he didn't get that, and Alistair ends up alone, and when Luc has enough distance from the break up, he does feel kind of shitty about it.

[deldeldel90]

warning for grief, death, seclusion, angst, and derealization/dislocation (not sure if it fits, but I think it does, better be safe than sorry)

I need to stop coming up with aus that I'm probably never gonna get the chance to write but

- modern/non-royalty au where maria is the daughter of famous (really famous) film "director" (he usually just stands around and everybody else ends up doing the work) Jack. she's been hidden away from the public eye since she was born, homeschooled and , until she was twenty, lived with her siblings.

- everybody else seems to be going about their daily life, yknow, until... gwen dies.

- and it shatters everyone.

- their father is sobbing. Jamie's lost, staring blankly at the casket of his twin, crying quietly, his other half. Lorena's screaming, throwing up, babbling. Maria is.... silent.

- she stays silent, quiet. As if she's in a trance, as if she's seeing nothing, hearing nothing. In another world.

- (she wants to be in another world, a world where her sister is alive, where she's six and her sister is afraid of the thunderstorms and they're together, hugging, telling stories. she wants to be in that world.)

- at age twenty-one, the media slams her, the blonde ice queen, the heartless sister, the terrible, no good daughter who couldn't force a tear out her eye on her littlest sister's funeral.

- articles are written. Maria impulsively reads every one, not skimming for a moment. She hangs on every word, every rumor.

- she needs to know, if this is real or not. It doesn't feel so.

- over the course of five years, five years of what feels like everyone moving on, flourishing, Maria falls apart. She decomposes.

- she's a reculse who stays in all day, not going outside for even groceries. She lives in an apartment away from her family. She doesn't talk to them. At all.

- she's not completely alone, however, she's got her childhood pet cat Colonel Snuggles and her birds that wish her good morning everyday.

- and, you know, maybe if she pretends Gwen's alive enough, then it'll make everything ok. Maybe if she beings breakfast to an empty seat everymorning it'll be ok. Maybe if she talks to gwen a little more, it'll make her alive again.

- she hasn't visited her grave since the funeral. Hasn't seen the body, ever.

- is she really dead?

- (she is)

- Maria is perfectly content on living like this, sees no point in doing anything, being anything. she's fine with this.

- sometimes, she writes songs. About birds and dreams and faraway places. Places Gwen would go onto when she's gone (well. she's already gone but-)

- one day, however, Colonel Snuggles yowls with on his might, and suddenly, when Maria opens her door, shaking, trembling, she's met with her new neighbor.

- his name is Beckett. A single father who's the member of every parent group there is. Hes reliable and honest and a tad brutal when she catches him off-guard.

- after a few weeks of knowing him, of accidently sharing things, he frowns. Saddens. And, pulls her into a hug.

- Beckett, gentle as ever, he invites her to.. therapy. Group therapy.

- Maria goes.... because... um... well.

- (gwen would want this, wouldn't she? And, Maria... Shes missed the sunshine on her skin. She missed talking to people. She missed-)

- she goes.

- its an odd group of people: the mother of one of the sons she was supposed to marry, Mrs Isolde, a nurse named Asa, a girl named Renée, a loudmouthed gardener who seemed to only be here for the free gluten-free muffins than anything else (Saffron, his dumb name, and Maria found him quite annoying...), and a twitchy nineteen year old named Monika (who Saffron supported at every opportunity). Between both Maria and Beckett's entrance, it was seven people in a circle.

- and they were all looking at her.

- oh, no.

- Maria used to love her siblings' attention on her as she sang her heart out, childish concerts where gazes were glued to her perfermance... now, as a freshly twenty-six with no prospects over than living the rest of her days on a hefty trust fund, it doesn't feel so good.

- Maria stammered,

- cursed under her breath,

- and she shook her head wildly. "Um.. can I get a moment?" She asked timidly.

- "no," the supposed leader, Saffron, says, deadpan. "If you don't answer now, I'm afraid to say you're kick-"

- "Saffron!" A woman cuts in. The real leader. "Sorry 'bout him. You give him five minutes of being in charge and suddenly..."

- saffron pouts, sitting back in his seat, crossing his arms.

- She shakes her head, laughing, before offering a kind smile to Maria. "You don't have to introduce yourself right now, if you're not ready."

- Maria looks at her, a warm feeling bubbling in her stomach uncomfortably. It sorta feels like just before she's about to throw up. "Thank you."

- a couple of minutes of chatter passes by before the woman (Prez, her nametag says) gets to the point.

- "I think the first exercise of today is saying the first thing that comes to your mind when you think about guilt."

- Mrs Isolde closes off even more. Monika shifts in her seat. Asa's eyebrows furrow in thought.

- "I murdered my fiance." is not what she expected to hear, especially not from Prez.

- that gets a startled laugh out of Maria. Then, suddenly, everyone's eyes are on her.

- (it reminds her of the media. It reminds her of Gwen's last stare as she asks which colleges Maria will go to. It reminds her of Mrs Isolde from so long ago. It reminds her of people watching and looking and judging. Maria can't stand it.)

- (she wants to hide again.)

- "Oh, um."

- her turn, it's her turn. She can think of a million things when she thinks about guilt. She didn't (doesn't) talk to Gwen enough. She hasn't kept in contact with her family. She doesn't deserve to. She can't finish her songs. She forgot to buy bird food when getting her groceries delivered. She accidently stepped on Colonel Snuggles' tail two days back.

- she can't say anything of that because its too pathetic and too personal and she can't get any of it off her tongue but everybody keeps looking at her and-

- "I haven't washed my hair in two weeks."

- silence.

- utter. Silence.

- "really?" A murmur from Saffron, his long dyed-green hair swishing as he shakes his head. "How the hell does it look so shiny then..."

- "good conditioner," Maria answers instantly, forgetting her worries for the moment. "Its from Switzerland."

<3

[ramjam]

what are your opinions on lance/guin and tristan/isolde?

The most interesting thing that Nakaba could do with them is sink them, imo! And that's also what I think is going to happen for a few reasons. Predictably lengthy response below.

One of the big themes in the sequel so far seems to be about defying fate. As a viewer, these two pairings are cemented in pop culture history. They're viewed as inevitable to us. This is kind of directly acknowledged through the power he gave to Guinevere. With how strong the idea of fate is reinforced both to the characters and to the audience, it gives off a stronger vibe that the end result will be how it's not inevitable. Otherwise, what's the point of all of this set-up if we're being told 100% how it's going to end?

Bartra had a similar ability to Guinevere and his was infallible. However, his visions were vague, and them being so heavily up to interpretation created misunderstandings and conflict. Guinevere believes hers to be 100% accurate.

Guinevere seems to lack of a self-identity outside of the future she can predict. She's trapped in this prison of isolation and knowing so much about herself that she simultaneously doesn't seem to know anything at all. Her magic is powerful, but would be really boring if it's infallible. She made sure to mention that there would be grave consequences if fate is defied. So... I mean, that's just what's going to happen, surely? That also implies it is possible. But she's doing what she can to make sure fate isn't broken by getting involved herself. So, it doesn't exactly seem very fool-proof if she has to meddle...

Isolde is nerfed by her own magic because she's convinced herself the source of it and her entire reason to exist is for Tristan. He's been kind to her, so she's heavily devoted to her own detriment. Isolde and Tristan's dynamic/friendship actually reminds me a lot of Diane and Meliodas from the very early parts of arc one in the original manga (a one-sided pairing that was destined to fail). Nakaba even draws direct attention to it with the whole, "he's the only guy who treats me like a normal person even though I'm so tall and stand out" thing.

The girl's issues with self-identity is something that I'm hesitantly saying is intentional and not an unintended writing flaw. I've seen people say they're flat due to these traits, but I see some hidden depth here, personally. I think Nakaba is cooking something.

This is probably an unpopular opinion but as someone who has been reading for almost 8 years, I actually think NnT is one of the romance-focused shounen manga where the women aren't watered down just to the man that they love. So the fact it "appears" that way just leads me to believe that it's the point, and the end result will be veering away from that.

It's very much like Nakaba to play with the expectations of Arthurian mythos by mixing things around in this way. Since these characters are so established culturally, he tends to do unexpected things with them to suit his intended themes and so the story doesn't get predictable. Taking two of the more culturally iconic pairs and subverting expectations by not having them be compatible romantically would be interesting. As of right now, that's how it's been coming across to me?

One of the ways Nakaba has already done this is by making Arthur's interest in Guinevere entirely non-romantic in motivation. That alone is a huge flip on what we're led to expect. So the typical "Lancelot and Arthur NTR/love triangle conflict" thing just isn't being built at all.

Lancelot isn't interested in Guinevere at all for a few reasons, and Tristan is so oblivious of Isolde's feelings and views her solely as a friend. We haven't had a hint of much else.

[forthegothicheroine]

Princess of Swords excerpt of the day

“So,” Dinadan says, “it seems that you and Morgan are quite fond of each other.”

“I don’t see what business that is of yours,” you reply, and he shakes his head rapidly.

“Oh, no, that part isn’t my business! If Isolde had loved her handmaiden instead of Tristram, none of us would be in this trouble today! I just wanted to make sure- well. You do know about her, don’t you?”

“Know what?” you ask.  “That she can wield magic?  Of course, everyone knows that.”

“And that she tried to steal Excalibur, and no one has been entirely sure of where her loyalties lie ever since?”

“Oh, that.”  You do your best to make your voice sound light and airy, casually dismissive.  “Yes, she told me about that herself.”

“And that she poisoned old king Uther?”

That gets your attention.

“She did? I thought that was the work of the Saxons. They killed the king of the Britons and ended the peace he had established, until Arthur arrived.”

“That’s the general story.” He looks around, probably checking to see that Morgan isn’t close by. “All we really know is that someone poisoned him, and as a result, his kingdom was plunged into bloodthirsty anarchy and ruination. But if you knew a king whose stepdaughter hated him and had been known to study alchemy and sorcery, and then that king was poisoned at a banquet when she was there, would you need to look to the Saxons for a culprit?”

You pause in your foraging, holding a delicate yellow flower between your thumb and forefinger. You were too young to grow up amid the chaos following Uther Pendragon’s murder, but you have heard stories. There are castles in Ireland that still lie in ruins, and church yards housing the graves of the dead the Saxons left behind. The words Morgan spoke to Lady Lupa come back to you- “I have slain kings and bound the spirits of the air and darkness to my will.” You twirl the flower in your fingers, not looking Dinadan in the eye.

[kaolincrush]

time for isolde power hour, some old wips and character art bc alas i have not been drawing but i have been rotating them at mach 4. love a scourge aasimar grave cleric that weeps gold when they fight, baby

god's least favourite suffer puppet 😌 they were originally part of a larger celestial being sent to commit a holy horror and prove their faith, freeing themself from doubt in service. instead of being annihilated in the ensuing detonation, the last scrap of their conscience tore itself free and ended up as a nearly 6 foot babygirl with the saddest wettest eyes and a martyr complex. that's isolde :) they're foils with qinan up there and you can totally see that they get along great at first lmaooo

[schmooplesboop]

Perfect Gift

Pairing(s): Clive X Gav, Byron X Eugen, Joshua X ???

Ratings and warnings: Teen, bc there's implied sexy times

My brain has the Big Sad right now so I wrote some Christmas schmoop to cheer myself up. Hope y'all enjoy :)

---

Byron was all in a dither today. Truth be told, he’d been in a dither for the last two weeks, ever since he and Eugen decided to spend Yule together… and introduce their families to each other.

Eugen was bringing his sister and her children, all of whom Byron knew well. He’d been friends with Eudora for some time before she’d introduced him to Eugen all those years ago. They’d remained friends even after young Byron and Eugen had drifted apart, and Eudora and her children had spent many summers in Port Isolde over the years. Byron had invited his nephews, Gav, and Jill, none of whom Eugen knew.

Usually, his Yule parties were loud, noisy, and very crowded affairs with every available friend, colleague, and even some rivals invited. This year’s would be small and quiet, he and Eugen deciding that a more subdued party would be the best setting for everyone to get to know each other.

Byron fussed with the decorations on one of the many Yule trees dotted around the parlor for around the one hundredth time. Usually, these things didn’t bother him, but this was his first Yule with his own family in over two decades and his first Yule with Eugen ever. He wanted everything to be… not perfect, but wonderful, at least.

He probably would’ve driven himself, Rutherford, and the rest of his staff to drink ages ago if Joshua, Clive, Gav, and Torgal hadn’t arrived half a week early to help. Joshua and Torgal kept him distracted, his nephew with conversation, Torgal with demands for scratches behind the ears and rubs for his belly. And though Jill couldn’t attend the Yule celebrations, as she was spending her holiday with her brother and his husband, she also helped distract Byron in her own way. She’d sent a lovely letter and an even lovelier wine, which Byron finished off within a few days. At the manor, Clive assisted Rutherford in ironing out all the little details, and Gav was helping with the ongoing effort to decorate the estate.

And when Byron discovered that the boar he’d procured, the centerpiece of the feast, had spoiled, it’d also been Gav who’d vanished into the forest outside Port Isolde with Torgal in tow, returning nearly eight hours later, both of them splattered in blood and Gav dragging the largest boar Byron had ever seen on a sledge behind him. Even offered to butcher it if the kitchen staff proved too squeamish to do it.

“Hope you’re planning to hold onto that one,” he’d muttered to his nephew as they watched Gav pulling his sledge across the main yard, making Clive’s cheeks turn pink.

“For as long as he’ll have me, Uncle.” Clive muttered back as Gav waved at them enthusiastically, a grin on his bloody face.

Byron flitted from the Yule tree to the fireplace, arranging and rearranging and re-rearranging the festive statues of snow moogles on the mantle. Tomorrow evening. Twenty-four short hours before the Yule celebration, even less before Eugen and his family would arrive. He bustled out of the parlor to make sure the guest rooms were still in order.

❆ ❆ ❆

Despite the dusting of snow they were getting, the main marketplace in Port Isolde was packed with people. Joshua rubbed his cold, gloved hands together and shook the snow from his hair before pulling the hood of his cloak up. He followed along as Clive darted from stall to stall, reminding him very much of their dear uncle. His brother was frantically looking for a Yule gift for Gav.

He hadn’t forgotten, in fact Clive had already bought four different gifts for Gav before they even left for Port Isolde, stashing them all in Byron’s bedchamber after they’d arrived. Now it seemed he was going to buy four more, or perhaps the whole market.

“After everything we’ve survived, you’re going to fret yourself into an early grave, brother.” He teased lightly.

Clive shot him a dark look then hurried to another stall, scrutinizing their wares so intensely the poor vendor started to look concerned, as though Clive was going to wreck the stall or steal everything.

“It has to be perfect. It has to show him how I feel…”

Joshua gave his brother a smile that was both incredulous and amused, “Right, because Gav has no idea how you feel about him. You’ve only told him that you love him, gave him grandfather’s ring to wear, made eyes at him the entire time we were journeying to Port Isolde—”

Clive shot him another look and Joshua raised his hands in mock surrender, holding in laughter. He supposed he could understand why Clive was worked up. They all sorely needed this brief moment of respite, wanting it to go smoothly wasn’t unreasonable. Though he still thought his brother was placing too large a burden on himself. He could give Gav an apple for Yule and the man would love it simply because it was a gift from Clive.

And it isn’t as though the perfect gift even exis—oh. His eye fell on a rather handsome set of silver hairbrushes. Well. Never mind. Those would be perfect for—

“Phoenix’s flaming ass!” Clive exclaimed in frustration before turning a sheepish smile on him. “Sorry, that’s one of Gav’s more innovative curses. He must be rubbing off on me.”

Joshua picked up the hairbrushes, handing some gil over to the vendor. “Better my flaming ass than Ifrit’s bountiful bosom.”

Clive snorted out a laugh, all apprehension over finding a gift momentarily forgotten, “Gav did not say that.”

“Oh, he absolutely did. Granted, he was intoxicated at the time, but he did indeed say it.”

His brother sighed fondly, “I love that man.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Byron had seen Clive and Joshua coming down the lane from his bedroom window, returning from the marketplace no doubt, and went down to the kitchen to make some hot cocoa. It was snowing steadily now and his nephews were likely to be damp and cold.

He’d just finished arranging four wooden mugs of steaming hot cocoa and a plate of cookies on a tray when he heard Torgal barking a happy greeting to Clive and Joshua. He picked the tray up and walked down the hall, peeking into the entrance hall.

Both of his nephews were covered in a powdering of snow. Joshua was looking excited, carrying a set of silver hairbrushes tucked under his arm. Poor Clive looked wet and beleaguered. Byron smiled softly. He had a hunch what was bothering his oldest nephew and had just the solution.

“Welcome back, you two!” He called, holding up the tray as he entered the foyer. “Care to join me for a nosh?”

“We’d be delighted, uncle,” Joshua said brightly as he and Clive removed their cloaks and boots.

Byron held the tray out to Joshua, “Could you take this to the parlor please? Oh, and coax Gav out of the library while you’re passing by, he’s been decorating all afternoon. Clive, could you come with me for a moment? I need you for something.”

Clive nodded distractedly; Byron wouldn’t be surprised if his nephew hadn’t heard a single word he said.

Joshua went off with the tray of goodies and his mission to lure Gav away from his work. Torgal followed closely at Joshua’s heels, likely with his own mission to acquire some cookies. Byron led Clive upstairs to his bedchamber.

He gestured vaguely at the cushy chair in the corner of the room, “Have a seat, my boy. This won’t take long.”

Clive sat, still looking like a lost, sad puppy and Byron dug through his wardrobe, “Having trouble finding a suitable gift for Gav?” He asked as he rifled through his clothes.

That got Clive’s attention, head snapping up as Byron found what he’d been looking for and walked over to him with a bundle in his arms.

“Might I make a suggestion?” When Clive nodded, he placed a fine outdoor cloak, thick black leather and lined with dark silver fur, in his lap. This was one of the many gifts Clive had already bought for Gav and hid in his room upon arriving. It’d sparked this idea the moment he saw it, “I think you should give him this. And… this as well.”

He set a heavy, metal cloak pin on Clive’s knee. It’d been forged in the symbol of his, Byron’s, house. He’d given similar ones to Clive and Joshua nearly the moment after finding out that they still lived. The only difference was this pin was the first one he ever had forged when he had the money to do so. It’d been a little personal celebration… and a thumb of his nose to Father, he’d made his house’s symbol as flamboyant as possible. This particular pin was of great significance to him.

Clive must’ve had an inkling of this, because he looked up at him uncertainly. “Uncle, are you sure?”

He waved an airy hand, “Of course I am, my boy! Let him know he’s part of this family. That’s what you’ve really been fretting about since you got here, is it not?” Byron bounced on the balls of his feet, proud of himself. “I can be observant when I really put my mind to it, you know.”

Byron started a bit as Clive’s arms wrapped around his waist, hugging him tightly. “Thank-you, Uncle Byron. For everything.”

Byron laughed too, patting his nephew on the head. “It’s the least I could do.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Yule was here and the estate was nearly decorated from top to bottom, only a few last-minute touches were needed here and there. Gav was helping the house staff hang clusters of winterberry in nearly every important entranceway, standing on tiptoe atop a slightly rickety wooden stool, tongue pinched between his teeth. He knew how bizarre this would look to Port Isolde’s fancy folk, doing menial tasks, but the thought of just sitting back and letting people wait on him, and do all the work, turned his stomach. He would be as tightly wound as Byron.

Frankly, he only felt truly at ease when he was with Clive and when he'd been out in forest boar hunting. That’d brought back memories of his childhood Yules, waking before the sun was even a peek on the horizon and going hunting with his father for the Yule dinner he and his older brothers would help their mother cook later.

The winterberry, bunches of green frilly leaves and berries like large fat pearls, was tied into a little bouquet with a length of golden twine. He finally got the loop knotted at one end of the twine over the hook suspended overhead, hanging up the last winterberry. He was gazing up at it, making sure it didn’t look crooked, when he felt a familiar hand paw at the curve of his ass before squeezing firmly.

“Clive,” He scolded, failing spectacularly at keeping the smile off his lips and the laughter out of his voice, “That isn’t what you do under the winterberry.”

“Oh?” Clive’s innocent tone was belied by the sly smirk on his face. “It’s been a long time since I’ve celebrated Yule. My memory needs to be refreshed…”

Gav hummed out a quiet laugh, nimbly hopping down from the stool. “Well, first you get beneath it with someone…”

Clive’s hands settled on his hips, pulling him forward a bit so they were both squarely under the little hanging plant. “Done. And then what?”

He traced his fingers lightly over Clive’s jawline before cupping his face, “Then, you plant one on ‘em.”

Gav leaned in, kissing Clive soft and slow and thorough, with a flick of cheeky tongue to cap it off.

Clive’s hands squeezed his hips when he made to draw back, “Show me that last part again, Gav…”

There was a tiny, awkward cough and a high voice interrupted them, “U-um. Sorry, excuse me.” One of Byron’s housekeepers had come up on them as quiet as a mouse, cheeks pink and eyes darting everywhere except in their direction. “Lord Rosfield. Sir Gav. Lord Byron’s guests are coming down the lane. He wishes for you all to greet them in the main yard.”

Clive’s face had gone a brilliant shade of red, amusing Gav to no end. Here was the man who’d been so boldly grabbing his ass just a few minutes ago, blushing like a shy lad about to slip into his First Night bed.

“Thank-you,” he said to the housekeeper, as Clive seemed to have lost his tongue. “We’ll be along right quick.”

The housekeeper gave a nod and hurried off. Alone once more, Gav quickly covered Clive’s warm, flushed face with kisses.

“Memory chugging along yet?” He asked with a grin.

Plainly recovered from his embarrassment, Clive’s arms wrapped tight around his waist, “Getting there. Perhaps just once more…”

❆ ❆ ❆

His palms were sweating. Eugen and his family were still a ways away, but Byron surreptitiously wiped his hands on his trousers. Joshua, Clive, and Gav stood with him, all of them looking on with interest. Torgal was the only one who seemed bored with their approaching guests, having a nap curled up in the newly fallen snow.

Eugen and his nephew reached them first, mounted on massive brown-feathered chocobos. His sister and twin nieces were a little ways back, concealed inside a carriage being pulled by two more chocobos and steered by one of Eugen’s men. A handful of Eugen’s soldiers walked behind the carriage; the roads weren’t safe for travelers these days.

“Eugen!” Byron raised his arms then paused, not entirely sure how Eugen would want to be greeted. He was rather passionate when they were alone, but with their families looking on…

Thankfully, he didn’t have to decide what to do. Eugen approached him, hugged him, and kissed his cheek.

“Byron, you old bastard, I missed you.”

Byron laughed, that was the man he loved alright. “And I missed you, Eugen. I was buzzing like a frantic bee all over the manor this morning.” He gestured to the trio beside him, “Allow me to introduce you—”

It really wasn’t necessary for him to do this, most of Valisthea and certainly all of Rosaria knew these three by now, Clive and Joshua especially, but Byron wanted this evening to be a little slice of normalcy for them. They’d earned—no, they deserved it.

“—These are my nephews, Clive and Joshua Rosfield. And this is Clive’s companion, Gav.”

Clive promptly made sure they understood what sort of companion Byron was talking about by twining his fingers with Gav’s. Byron smiled a little.

Eugen shook each of their hands. “Eugen Havel. Enchanted to finally meet you, boys. Although I think I met you once when you were just a babe,” he said to Clive. “I doubt you remember that, though.”

“Not at all, sir,” Clive replied. “I’m delighted to meet you again all the same.”

Eugen chuckled then looked at Gav, “No second name?”

The lad’s cheeks went a little red, “Common born, sir. We don’t have those. ‘M just Gav from Snowbird Hollow.”

“Ah, the North.”

“Aye.”

Clive was frowning, giving Eugen the eye, like he wasn’t sure if Eugen was judging Gav or not. Byron didn’t blame him. Clive didn’t know Eugen. The man could be brusque but he was far from a snob, just endlessly curious.

The slightly sticky moment passed as the rest of Eugen’s party strolled in through the gate. Both Joshua and Clive tensed slightly when Eugen’s sister emerged from the carriage and Byron immediately understood why. She wore a Yule dress very like the ones their mother once favored and had her hair styled similarly as well.

But Byron knew this woman well and there was no one further from Anabella Rosfield than her. Plump, soft, and round where Anabella was all razor thin sharpness and bony angles. Dark where Anabella was fair. Kind where Anabella was cruel.

She didn’t wait for her brother to make introductions.

“Byron!” She thew her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug that smelled of powdered sugar and vanilla. “It’s been so long, old friend! I’ve missed you so!” She cast a kind eye over the other three, Clive and Joshua both visibly relaxing. “I’m Eugen’s sister, Eudora. Charmed to meet you, gentlemen!”

“I’ve missed you too, Eudora!” Byron laughed as his nephews and Gav murmured their own polite greetings.

The woman released Byron and grabbed her son by the elbow, pulling him forward so vigorously the poor lad nearly tripped, “This is my son Kasir.”

Kasir was near Joshua’s age, if Byron remembered correctly, perhaps a year younger. Handsome and tall, he had his mother’s golden-brown skin, but his amber eyes were his father’s, Eudora’s first husband.

Kasir had his mother’s charming, roguish smile though, “Enchanted.”

“And these are my twin daughters, Chiara and Melia.”

She brought the sisters forward. The twins would be twenty-two now… again, if his memory wasn’t misleading him. Their father was Eudora’s second husband. Eudora insisted that they could be differentiated, but Byron hadn’t been able to yet. Their skin was a shade lighter than their mother’s, but they had her dark eyes and hair, though their curls were free of the silver strands starting to creep their way into Eudora’s. The twins wore perfectly matching traveler’s dresses and had perfectly matching hairstyles. Byron inwardly shrugged. He still couldn’t tell them apart.

“I call them Chaos and Menace.” Kasir said with his roguish grin, making his sisters squawk in protest.

Byron silently agreed, lips twitching as he suppressed a smile. No one had been safe from the twins and their pranks when they were children. When they’d stayed at the manor one long ago summer Byron finally had to scold them for driving poor Rutherford around the bend.

“Well, isn’t this one pretty,” Chiara murmured as Joshua kissed the back of her hand.

“This one isn’t so bad either,” Melia added, eyeing Clive up and down. Gav seemed amused rather than annoyed by this.

Eudora’s sigh was both loving and long-suffering, “Where are your manners, young ladies? We’re guests here. Behave like it.”

“Told you. Chaos and Menace,” Kasir laughed.

The twins gave perfectly matching long-suffering sighs of their own and curtsied.

“Pleased to meet you all.” They chimed out in unison.

“I hope I’m dressed appropriately,” Eudora said to Byron as she smoothed her hands down the front of her dress. “I got this from that shop you recommended. I bought Yule clothes for my children too, but they’ve refused to wear them until dinner.”

Yule wasn’t widely celebrated in Dhalmekia. Eugen had been to Yule parties thrown by associates and friends before, but this would be a first-time celebration for Eudora and her brood.

“You look resplendent as always, Eudora.”

“Oh, Byron, stop,” She cackled, playfully smacking him on the arm. “My brother is right there. What will he think of you flirting with me?”

“He’ll think that you two haven’t changed a lick in the last thirty years.” Eugen said dryly, making both Byron and Eudora cackle this time. “Shall we head inside?”

“Hold on a moment, dearest Uncle. I’ve been reading all about Yule on the journey here.” Chiara said, dark eyes glittering with a cheerful mischief Byron was all too familiar with. “Is it true that once the families come together the younger generation has a mock battle with snowballs?”

“That custom is usually reserved for young children.” Eugen replied. “But I’ve no issue with you partaking if our host doesn’t.”

“None at all!” Byron said jovially.

Chiara clapped her hands in glee, looking over at his nephews and Gav. “You three game?”

Kasir gave his sister a withering look, “Seriously?”

“Oh, big brother,” Melia sighed, bending down to scoop up some snow. “Where is your sense of wonder?”

“Ah hell, why not. I’m in.” Gav said with a shrug.

Joshua still looked uncertain, but Clive nodded, which surprised Byron not at all. If Gav was in, Clive was in.

“This is ridiculous,” Kasir muttered, still bending down to cup some snow in his gloved hands.

Byron didn’t see who threw the first snowball, but it hit Kasir square in the face. And just like that, the years melted away before Byron’s eyes. They were no longer a group of world-weary adults, but totally unrestrained youth.

Gav and the twins took off running, laughing wildly as they pelted each other with snowballs and tossed a few more Kasir’s way.

“Oh… it’s on,” Kasir spat out a mouthful of snow and chased after them, aiming a snowball at the back of Gav’s head.

Clive immediately charged off to defend his love, shaping a snowball the size of a pumpkin in his large hands. Torgal, awakened from his nap, charged into the fray too, yipping like a puppy and tail wagging madly. With a kind of resigned anxiety on his face, Joshua followed along to make sure no one died by snowball.

“Well,” Byron grinned, watching Clive dunk his massive snowball on Kasir’s head before he could hit Gav. “Shall we leave them to it and have a pre-dinner drink in the parlor?”

Eugen and Eudora did an inadvertent but spot-on impression of the twins, answering in unison, “Excellent idea.”

❆ ❆ ❆

“Don’t laugh,” Gav’s voice said from behind the changing screen.

Dinner would be served soon, and the Yule party would follow immediately after. Clive and Gav were in the guest room they shared, changing into what Gav called their “Lord Fancy Pants outfits.” Soon after they’d first arrived at the manor, they’d spent an uncomfortable afternoon allowing Byron’s tailor to measure them for their Yule clothes. Clive could tell that Gav hated the whole process, but the blonde had endured it for Byron’s sake.

“I would never.” The sincerity in his voice must’ve convinced Gav, because the blonde emerged from behind the screen, tugging uncomfortably at his clothes.

Clive suppressed the urge to let out a low, appreciative whistle. Byron’s seamster had done a splendid job, despite Gav squirming the whole time. Snug, dark trousers accentuated Gav’s long legs and his long-sleeved shirt had a plunging neckline that rivaled Clive’s own. But it was the velvet waistcoat that did it for him. The dark royal blue really brought out the green in Gav’s eye and the cut flattered his trim waist and other… assets.

He licked his lips, “You look…”

“Like Farmer Lord Gav from Snowbird Hollow?”

The way he said it hurt Clive’s heart. He moved close, one hand reaching out to cup Gav’s cheek. “Handsome. Breathtaking. And yes, like Farmer Lord Gav from Snowbird Hollow, because there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.”

Gav’s mouth opened then closed, cheeks turning pink. He leaned into Clive’s hand, “M’sorry. Being silly, huh.”

“Not at all,” He drew Gav close, kissing him gently. He’d been born into this privileged existence and still felt out of place in it. He had a healthy appreciation for how much more overwhelming it’d be for someone born outside of it.

After they parted, Gav’s deft fingers swiftly closed the brass buttons on Clive’s own waistcoat, also velvet but a deep red instead of blue. “You’re lookin’ mighty fine yourself, Clive.”

They kissed again, this time with a little more heat. Clive was just starting to fancy skipping dinner and having Gav instead when the blonde pulled away, wringing a little whimper from Clive’s lips.

Gav laughed softly, thumb tracing over Clive’s lower lip, “Later, love. We’ll have all night.”

Clive sighed but nodded his head. Gav was right, of course. Damn it all.

“…Clive?” Gav was hesitant again.

“Mmn?”

“I know we’re supposed t’ wait until the party for gifts, but your gift is kind of… unwieldy. Byron gonna mind if I give it to you now?”

“Of course not, my boy!” Clive heard Byron’s jovial response so clearly in his mind it was like his uncle was standing in the room with them, “He won’t mind at all.”

Wondering what this unwieldy gift could be, Clive watched as Gav crossed the room and pulled what looked like something very long and very heavy wrapped in green fabric and tied with gold ribbon from the closet.

“Where—” Clive spluttered as Gav sauntered over, depositing his gift on the bed. It was so heavy it made the mattress bounce. “You didn’t bring that with us, did you…!?” It been hard enough keeping his considerably smaller gifts out of Gav’s sight the entire journey. Where had he been hiding this?

Gav was looking proud of himself, “When you told me Byron invited us to Port Isolde for Yule I had it sent here after it was finished. Told Byron it was coming and it arrived by chocobo cart a few days before we did.”

Clive groaned faintly, he wished he’d thought of that.

“Go on, then,” Gav chirped. “Open it.”

Clive undid the ribbon and unwrapped the fabric.

Father’s greatsword!? Was his first confused thought. But no, his father’s blade was long gone. He knew that. This greatsword was newly forged. It just looked exactly like—

“Had Joshua sketch it from memory,” Gav said softly. “Blackthorne forged it, of course.”

Clive swallowed hard. His chest suddenly tight. He ran his fingers reverently down the hilt and over the flat side of the shining blade.

“Gav, I—” His tongue felt heavy. An overwhelming wave of tenderness toward Gav rolled over him. Tears began to spill down his cheeks.

Vaguely through the barrage of his emotions, he heard Gav frantically apologizing and moved quickly to reassure him.

“No, Gav, don’t apologize…” He took Gav’s hands in his, kissing the backs, his knuckles, the long fingers, “I love it. Thank-you.”

Gav’s arms wrapped securely around him, but his expression was still uncertain, “You sure? If I overstepped—"

“I love it,” He repeated firmly, nuzzling into Gav’s neck, kissing it. “I love you,” He nipped at the skin beneath his lips.

“Love you too, but don’t you leave a mark on me right now, Clive Rosfield.” Gav chuckled weakly, still a little shaken by Clive’s reaction to his gift.

Thwarted again. Clive contented himself with pressing another kiss to Gav’s neck before releasing him. He propped his new blade against the wall in the corner of the room, admiring it briefly before taking Gav by the hand. It was time for dinner.

❆ ❆ ❆

There were only nine of them present, ten including Torgal fervently chewing on a bone in the corner, but dinner was still going to be a noisy affair. Joshua could scarcely hear his own thoughts. Eudora and Byron were the loudest by far, followed by the twins, who Joshua suspected were already a bit tipsy. The wine had been flowing freely. Clive was the quietest, murmuring to Gav, who was looking overwhelmed by the sheer amount of cutlery around his plate.

“Dinner is courtesy of Gav!” Byron announced as the staff began to file in carrying dishes and platters. “Saved the whole Yule feast, he did!”

Gav’s cheeks flushed bright red and he took a hasty gulp of wine. Joshua gave him a smile and his knee an encouraging pat. His brother, sitting on Gav’s other side, did the same.

The food flowed in faster than the wine. Heaps of garlic roasted potatoes, mashed parsnips, tossed gysahl greens, glazed carrots (contrary to popular belief, no longer Joshua’s mortal enemy), thick slices of freshly baked bread, dressed eggs, peas and onions swimming in butter, and of course the boar, roasted to crackling perfection.

Joshua’s mouth watered. Molly, the Hideaway’s cook, did a fine enough job when she put her mind to it, but it’d been a long time since he’d had anything that wasn’t some type of stew or soup. He piled his plate with a bit of everything and asked for a refill on his wine. Clive tossed a generous slice of boar meat to Torgal.

Gav accidentally used the wrong fork for the boar. Joshua and Clive used a randomly chosen fork in solidarity. Joshua chose the dessert fork, imagining the look on his mother’s face if she could see him now.

No. Joshua’s lips pressed firmly together. He was enjoying this evening. He wasn’t going to sour it with thoughts of her.

A foot nudged at Joshua’s under the table and he couldn’t decide if it was Kasir, Chiara, or Melia. All three were giving him the eye from across the table. If he’d been a betting man, he’d put his gil on one of the twins. They had already ambushed him beneath the winterberry hung over the entranceway to the dining hall, sandwiching him between them as they each pressed a kiss to one cheek. Chaos and Menace indeed.

❆ ❆ ❆

Dinner had been for family only, but Byron and Eugen had decided to invite a handful of people to the Yule party. Some of their oldest friends who could be trusted not to harass Clive and Joshua and a few musicians to play, as the twins at the very least would want to dance.

Byron lips twitched in a sympathetic smile as Chiara twirled Joshua around the parlor. His poor nephew was one of the youngest, eligible (at least, Byron thought so, though he did wonder who the hairbrushes were for…) lads there, thus he’d been called upon to dance with Chiara, her sister, and even Kasir time and again. Even some of Byron and Eugen’s friends had coaxed a dance out of him.

Clive remained as tightly coiled as was appropriate in public around Gav, his grim expression meant to scare off anyone who wanted to dance. He’d only consented to dance with Eudora earlier in the evening.

A hand slid into his and Byron looked over to see Eugen standing beside him, smiling as Joshua bowed politely to Chiara and excused himself to hide in a shadowy nook with a cup of wine for a moment.

“This has been wonderful,” he said.

Byron’s heart swelled. That was exactly what he’d been hoping for, “It has.”

“…Would you care to dance?” Eugen asked quietly, gruffly, looking for all the world like the embarrassed teenager who’d asked Byron to kiss him in the garden once many years ago.

“I’d love to, darling.”

Eugen’s hand found the small of his back and he put his own hand Eugen’s shoulder as they slowly glided about the room. Melia walked by them, her gaze firmly set upon Joshua, when Gav smoothly intercepted her, holding one hand out.

“A dance, m’lady?” He asked with a grin.

“I’d be delighted, sir!” She giggled, taking Gav’s hand.

Byron chuckled when he saw his nephew mouth “thank-you” with a grateful sigh.

❆ ❆ ❆

Clive sat on one of the lounge sofas watching Gav dance with Melia, his stomach twisting. It wasn’t jealousy, but nerves making him squirm. He’d retrieved his gift for Gav from under one of the Yule trees, anxiously twisting the ribbon tied about the package around and around his finger as he waited.

Gav had recruited Joshua and Blackthorne to forge his father’s greatsword for him. It seemed they were on the same page in regard to their relationship. So, his gift, wanting to show Gav he was part of their family, wasn’t too much, right?

He turned his gaze and his mind to his uncle instead, trying to distract himself. He smiled as he watched Byron and Eugen dance by the musicians. He hadn’t been sure about Eugen at first, but as the day went on he saw the man beneath the brisk surface. The man who loved Byron dearly. The man Byron had waited decades for.

Clive looked back at Gav, his nerves softening into adoration, relieved he hadn’t had to wait as long for Gav. He would’ve, if he had to, but glad he hadn’t needed to.

The musicians changed to something a little more upbeat. Byron and Eugen continued to dance, and a few of their friends and Eudora joined, but Melia and Gav parted, her curtsying and him giving her a deep bow.

“Had to give poor Joshua a breather. Looked like the lad was going t’ pass out.” Gav said as he rejoined Clive on the lounge, stealing a sip of Clive’s wine.

“Better you than me,” Clive chuckled.

“I thought you were my shield, brother.” Joshua teased as he stepped up behind the lounge.

“You’re not in danger, Joshua.”

“Easy for you to say,” His brother replied. Chiara was now eyeing him from across the parlor. “Your feet aren’t at risk of being danced right off, and you’ve Gav to protect you.”

“He protected you, too.”

“True. Thank-you, Gav.”

The blonde chuckled, “Ah, don’t mention it.”

It was then that Joshua noticed the gift his older brother was clutching in his hands, “Well, I’m going to refill my wine and hide in the library for a while. Wish me luck, gentlemen.”

“Luck,” Gav and Clive said in unison as Joshua walked off.

They sat in silence for a few moments, sharing sips from Clive’s wine, before he finally worked up the courage to set the gift in Gav’s lap.

“Happy Yule, Gav.”

“Aw, Clive,” Gav pulled the ribbon off and unfolded the fabric. He let out a quiet, appreciative whistle when he saw the cloak inside. “No more freezing my arse off on watch—” His eye fell upon the cloak pin and picked it up as though it was made of glass.

Clive held his breath. Waited. He knew Gav, clever and observant, would understand the significance of the pin. He would’ve seen the matching pins on his and Joshua’s cloaks before.

“…This revenge for me makin’ you cry earlier?” Gav asked softly.

Clive huffed an equally soft laugh, moving close to wrap his arm around the blonde’s waist. “No. It’s an offer, and a promise.”

Gav looked at him, his face unreadable. Clive’s heart skipped a beat.

Then he leaned in, pressing a brief, chaste kiss to his lips, making Clive all but melt with relief. “Thank-you, love,” He fastened the pin to his new cloak, smoothing the leather around it. “It’ll look good on me.”

“It will,” Clive agreed, heart soaring. He felt like he could float right off the lounge.

Gav smiled thoughtfully, “Y’know, when I first joined the Hideaway all I wanted was a family. Now I’ve got two. I’m spoiled, me.”

“But I’ll spoil you more than Otto will,” Byron stage whispered as he and Eugen danced by.

“Don’t be rude, dear. They’re having a moment.” Eugen lightly admonished.

“It was not rude—”

Clive and Gav chuckled together as Byron and Eugen danced away again, bickering in the loving way they did.

“And I’ll spoil you more than Otto or Byron will,” Clive murmured. “There’s three more gifts waiting for you…”

“Hells, Clive, you weren’t kidding.” Gav laughed.

No one was looking. Clive snuck in a quick line of kisses up the side of Gav’s neck, his gaze still on Byron and Eugen.

“I want that to be us.” The words just popped out and Clive blushed, realizing what he’d said, but he didn’t take it back. He meant it.

Gav looked at him, smirking slightly. “The bickering or the dancing?”

“Older… together.”

The blonde’s expression softened and he looked down at his gift, fingers tracing the design on the pin. “…I like the sound of that.”

Oh, if only they weren’t in a room full of his uncle’s guests. He wanted to kiss every last inch of Gav.

“Would you like to dance while we’re growing old together?” He asked. It’d have to do until he had Gav to himself.

Gav smiled and stood up, holding his hand out to him, “Love to.”

❆ ❆ ❆

The party was over. Byron and Eugen bundled their friends, all in various stages of inebriation, into their carriages to send them safely home. Clive had to help Kasir carry Chiara and Melia to bed, both sisters too drunk and exhausted to walk. Eudora, also a little tipsy, affectionately pinched Clive on the cheek as thanks before tottering off to bed herself. Byron and Eugen followed soon after. Gav lightly ruffled Joshua’s hair and planted a kiss on the top of Clive’s head before he also sleepily weaved away, leaving Clive and Joshua in the parlor.

The brothers sat together in a couple of wooden chairs facing toward the fireplace. The flames were low but provided enough light and heat that neither of them bothered to move to add more wood. Torgal lay on the rug in front of the hearth, gnawing on what was left of his bone.

Clive was tired, but not as tired as Joshua had to be. Hiding in the library had granted him a small reprieve, but it’d only been half an hour before the twins had found him again. He and Gav had taken a few turns diverting their attention with dances, but it seemed their appetite for Joshua was insatiable.

“I believe my toes have fallen off…” Joshua groaned, pulling one of his boots off so he could massage his foot. “I can’t remember the last time I danced…”

“I can’t remember the last time I celebrated Yule.”

Silence fell between them as they realized the answer together. Before the Night of Flames, of course. A night that simultaneously felt like it was yesterday and centuries ago.

Joshua pulled his other boot off, fingers working at his calf muscle. “How different things could have been if—" He cut himself off, sharply shaking his head, massaging his lower leg a little more aggressively than necessary.

Clive’s mouth twisted bitterly. He knew what Joshua was thinking, because he’d thought it himself a time or two that evening. If only their mother had been someone like Eudora, a woman they’d known for considerably less time, but already adored so much more.

“No,” His younger brother said, more to himself than Clive. “I promised I wouldn’t sour this night.”

“You haven’t—”

Joshua cut him off this time, “For you, dear brother.”

He stood from his chair and dragged a large wooden trunk over to Clive. It seemed Gav hadn’t been the only one with the foresight to send a cumbersome gift ahead of time. He’d have to remember that for next year…

Joshua sat down again with an exhausted sigh as Clive lifted the trunk’s lid to peer inside.

“I know many will consider it a sin, to cover up your chest, but I’ll sleep better knowing your heart is better protected.”

New armor lay within the trunk. Greaves and gauntlets made from dark metal. A chest piece with thick black leather cut in the shape of flames and layered over a metal bodice that glimmered red here and there. It would indeed cover his chest.

“You and Gav have been keeping Blackthorne busy, I see…” Clive murmured, lifting the chest piece out of the trunk, looking it over wonderingly.

“An unfortunate side effect of caring about you.” Joshua replied with a tired chuckle.

“Thank-you, Joshua.”

“You’re most welcome, brother.”

Joshua drained the last of his wine, head lolling back against the chair behind him. Clive didn’t think his brother even heard him get up as he retrieved a bundle from beneath the nearest Yule tree.

“This is from both Gav and I,” Clive set Joshua’s gift in his lap, startling him out of his half-asleep state.

Stifling a yawn, Joshua untied the ribbon and opened the package. Inside he found four thick stacks of bound, blank paper, three ink pots, and three chocobo-feather quills.

He brightened, picking up one of the quills and admiring the tiny, intricate carvings in the wooden shaft. “Gav made these! I’ve been wanting to ask him to make me one ever since I saw the quill he made for Harpocrates.”

Clive nodded, “Ambrosia donated the feathers. Voluntarily, mind you.”

“Thank-you, Clive. This is a fine gift. Thank Gav, too.”

“I will.”

Joshua yawned again and pulled his boots back on, taking a few tries to do it in his exhaustion. Gathering his gift in his arms, he stood from his chair.

“…I am going to bed. If I never see another musician again it will be too soon. Come along, Torgal.”

Clive chuckled, “Goodnight, Joshua.” He rubbed Torgal behind his ears, “Goodnight, boy.”

“Until tomorrow, Clive.”

Joshua left the parlor with Torgal trailing close behind and Clive stretched, his back creaking faintly, before standing up as well. He tucked his gift from Joshua safely beside a Yule tree and made sure the flames in the fireplace were out before heading down the hall to the guest room he shared with Gav.

Clive was mid-yawn when he entered, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight that greeted him. All thoughts of sleep instantly fled from his mind. Gav was posed on the bed, stark naked, with a ribbon delicately wrapped and tied with a neat little bow around his—

“Surprise,” Gav looked very pleased with himself. “Got you more than one gift, too.”

Clive locked the door and beelined for the bed, shedding his clothes as fast as he could.

---

I'll let y'all decide who Joshua bought the hairbrushes for, and if they're platonic or romantic lol