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sabraeal · 3 years ago

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We Seek That Which We Shall Not Find, Ch 8

[Read on AO3]

Written for @eveluboi for winning the Obiyuki Trope Madness 2021 betting kitty! I meant for this to be out way back in June, but it quickly slipped from a 4-5K projected fic to 7K 😂

Cold porcelain presses up against her palms, slick from where her fingers wrap around the sink’s edge. Shirayuki bows her head down, watching the water spiral down the drain, and breathes. In and out; in and out. If she hadn’t left her phone out on the table, she could look at one of those gifs she bookmarked; the one where the triangle becomes a decagon maybe, or where the star burst becomes a mandala. But she did, so instead she has to visualize it, counting out the shapes behind her eyelids.

It doesn’t work, but at least it’s something.

There’s something distinctly high school dance about hiding the the bathroom-- though in here, it’s impossible to just sit on the toilet and brace her legs against the door. Not that she needs to; unlike a bathroom stall, this door actually locks. A feature she’s sure has nothing to do with whatever the Wisterias plan to get up to in that Jacuzzi tub.

Shirayuki frankly refuses to speculate on what that might be. She still has to look Izana in the eye tonight, and the last thing she needs is to be thinking about him doing-- things in here, with people. Maybe he just has a compressed spine at the ripe old age of twenty-five, the kind that can’t be alleviated by anything less than eight massage jets.

In any case, this whole strategy of retreat isn’t really her style. Or at least, it hadn’t been, until...before. Which was a blip on an otherwise spotless record of confronting her problems head-on, with the sort of determined attitude Jaja fondly refers to as foolhardy, and Busha calls bull-headedness.

Her fingers grip the bowl firmly, levering herself up to stare into the mirror. She can do this. She can go right out there, sit down, and have Lynet reject this proposal. Because a normal person wouldn’t hide in the bathroom to avoid a fictional conflict.

Right. Shiaryuki drops her hands, giving her reflection a steely nod. It’s not like this is her first time turning down a boy; even if Shuuka throws her in a dungeon, he’ll still have taken her rejection better than the last one did, and that was a real live person. Not that Raj is much of a measuring stick for any kind of model behavior, but-- still. The point stands.

The door gives beneath the pressure of her hand, opening with a silence that’s confusing rather than comforting. Zen’s house might not be as old as hers, but it’s still not new; the apartment went up in the last five years, and its doors still hang crooked, screaming every time they move more than an inch. She can’t imagine Izana going around oiling hinges.

“Hey.” A hand catches her, strong fingers banding around her wrist. Pale ones, slender and well-trimmed; she traces them right up a crisp flannel to find Kiki frowning down at her. “I would give it a minute.”

Shirayuki blinks, and suddenly the world refocuses. It’s oddly silent in the basement, only the thin tumble of dice from the floor above. Obi’s either up to something or Beaumains is in trouble; she can’t even beging to guess which one would be worse.

And Kiki’s leaning here, right against the neutral paint, waiting for her. She shifts, casting a worried look toward the game room. “Is something--?”

Mitsuhide clears his throat; it echoes down the empty hall, a sound that fills the space like thunder overhead. Shirayuki bites back the impulse to count until next lightning strike; even though she knows it should be the other way around, that light travels faster than sound, but this--

“Is something wrong?” Zen drawls, sounding nothing like the boy who sits next to her in homeroom. No, sounding like this, he’s every inch Izana’s brother.

-- this is different. Bedwyr uses his words before he dares draw his blade, and it comes too naturally to be anything besides pure Mitsuhide, just like Beaumains’ quick tongue is the same one that wags in Obi’s mouth. He rumbles before the strike, and this one is destined to hit too close to home.

“Zen.” There’s something about how Mitsuhide wields a name; Shirayuki hardly knows him-- not as much as Zen and Kiki, anyway-- but when he says hers, it’s like having those giant arms cradling her tight against his chest, in a way that is less romantic and more like a tiny kitten living in a jacket pocket. When he says Obi’s, it’s a buzz, a burr, the sound before a siren wails, a warning that will never become a threat.

And when he says Zen’s right now, it’s a weight, a boulder to bear like Atlas shoulders the earth. It’s the moment before the punishment comes in the last act; the last temptation to turn the antagonist back onto the path of the righteous. “You should rethink your behavior tonight.”

“My behavior?” Zen squawks, chair clattering beneath him. “I haven’t even done anything.”

Mitsuhide’s silence speaks volumes.

“I haven’t,” Zen insists, though it’s weaker this time. “You’re the ones who are just letting Obi act like the rules don’t apply to him.”

“We are?”

“Well...” The pout sits sullenly on this tongue. “Izana is. And you guys aren’t doing anything about it either!”

Mitsuhide heaves a sigh that would make trees sway. Kiki’s fingers flex in sympathy against her shoulder. “I think you’re being a little unfair.”

“Unfair?” The word squeaks at the end of Zen’s range. “What’s unfair is that Izana invited that guy for the specific purpose of scaring Shirayuki off, and no one seems to care.”

Shirayuki only realizes she’s moved when Kiki’s grip holds her back, one foot still hovering over the floor, poised to make a very determined stomp. Words are welling up in her like ground water during a storm; a whole monologue that threatens to flood the basement of her common sense. The whole night comes back to her in inches; every slight, every complaint is magnified tenfold now that she knows it comes to this, and she--

“Give them a minute,” Kiki murmurs. “Sometimes Zen just needs a swift application of a boot to his ass.”

She blinks up at her, body vibrating with a need to do something. “And Mitsuhide will do that?”

A picture might be a thousand words, but somehow Kiki’s eyebrows could compose a novel. She lifts them a bare, dubious inch, and Shirayuki knows that chapter one starts with, and you think you’d do any better? “You’ll see. He’ll come around. Have a little faith.”

Bitter words lick up her throat, a carefully composed diatribe furiously scribed by her irritation. A list of all Zen’s petty squabbles, of all the times he’d tried to sideline her or sequester Obi ready to spill out, but--

But she swallows it down. Tonight’s tried her patience for sure, but it’d been Zen who leaned across the aisle in homeroom her first day. The one who’d stuck out a hand and said, you must be new. The one who had made sure she’d had somewhere to sit at lunch-- sure, Kihal had found her by then, adopting her like a baby bird fallen from a nest, but he’d swung by even though his wasn’t until next period.

That’s what’s so frustrating, to be honest-- she knows how good he can be. So the fact he’s choosing to act this way instead...

Her shoulders sag under the weight of Kiki’s hand. “I’m trying to.”

When Mitsuhide speaks again, it’s even, patient; she’d be tempted to say it was like a parent to a child, but there’s no condescension, no sense of speaking down but rather across. “That’s possible. But you’re still the only one acting hostile at this table.”

Zen’s huffs, indignant. “So you want me to just sit here and let them ruin Shirayuki’s experience?”

Kiki pushes past her with a parting pat, sauntering into the room. “How could they when you’re doing such a good job of it yourself?”

Shirayuki can’t see either of the boys, but she can see Kiki when she spins a chair around, dropping down to straddle it. “You may not have noticed, but it doesn’t look like Shirayuki minds Obi being here. At least, not as much as you do.”

“Kiki,” Mitsuhide sighs, a warning. “That’s enough.”

Kiki must not agree, since she leans in, smile sharp enough to cut glass. “Maybe you need to lighten up, brother dearest.”

Zen sucks in a hard breath, like he’s been hit. “Don’t--”

The door rattles at the top of the stairs, a muffled voice turning to a dry laugh as it opens. Her stomach lurches like that moment at the top of a coaster, looking down at the track below. It’s Obi.

Kiki is a flurry of motion; her chair flips beneath her, and she sits back down hard, feet kicking up onto the table. When Izana and Obi emerge from the stairway, it looks like she‘s been idling at a casual tilt for hours, not seconds, but still, still--

Izana lifts one elegantly arched eyebrow. No matter how cleverly they all compose themselves, he almost certainly knows every word that’s been said.

“You’re back?” Zen coughs, his words hobbling awkwardly, dragged down by guilt. Izana’s other eyebrow joins the first. “What happened?”

Obi drops into his seat, cradling chin in hand. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would,” Zen snaps, irritation already rising. “That’s why I asked.”

“Oh, don’t worry--” Obi tosses him a wink designed to send him through the roof-- “you’ll find out.”

“I--”

“If there’s any other business, tell me now,” Izana says, taking his place at the head of the table. “Otherwise, you’ve slept through the night.”

Obi flutters his eyes, grin taking on a feral edge. “Well, you know I’m all taken care of, Majesty.”

“Anyone else?” Izana sighs, long suffering. His eyes flick out over the table, settling into a frown. “Does anyone know where Shirayuki is?”

“Bathroom,” Kiki offers too quick, gaze cutting over to where she hides in the hall, before darting back. The corner of Izana’s mouth pulls deeper, and his eyes lift--

“Ah, I’m here!” Shirayuki hurries out, slipping into her seat. When she looks up Zen’s watching her with wide eyes, gears clunking along behind them as he looks from her to the hall and back, doing the exact equations she was hoping he couldn’t. “Sorry.”

“It’s not a problem,” Izana assures her, keeping his eyes fixed to the screen in front of him. “Did you have anything you needed to do before the night is over?”

“Ah, um.” Her fingers stretch wide over Lynet’s sheet, tips gripping at the table. “Yes. One last thing.”

The stars are bright tonight, shining in the firmament like jewels in velvet. Ancient poets would invoke Diana at the sight, at the thousand heroes and maidens consigned to shine above for defying their fates. Older ones still would call upon Arianrhod, the silver wheel, mother of wind and skies alone, praising the complexity of her beauty.

But when you raise your eyes to heaven’s glorious vault, you see only kingly gift laid at your feet, unasked. And when you lower them, another waits for you in Shuuka’s smile, devastating and earnest.

“A fine night, is it not?” His breath mists in the air between you; a lucky thing, since it obscures your grimace. “In all Our Lord’s creation, a man could not find one finer than this.”

“It is a wonder,” you murmur, stirring the fur at your cloak’s collar. “But I have seen so little of this world that I hesitate to say that in a thousands nights there would not be one that could surpass it.”

His mouth spreads wider still, the pearl of his teeth glimmering in the moon’s light. You’ve pleased him, somehow. “You can only say that, my lady, since you are graced with your own presence every moment, and I have only these. For now.”

Your feet stutter beneath you; the leaves crunching makes him turn, brow raised in concern. “Shuuka...”

“Ah, yes. You wished to speak with me, did you not?” His boot heels clack against the cobbles, coming to perch on the raised bed beside you. He is not close, even still, but having his eyes level with yours makes this moment too intimate for you to keep him fixed in your vision. Instead you turn, leaving him looming at the corner of your eye. “I am your servant in all things, my lady. Speak.”

“My lord,” you begin, for politeness seems the only kindness you can extend to him, “I believe there has been some misunderstanding.”

His head tilts. “A misunderstanding?”

His voice is lower, a manly rumble instead of its usual reedy melody; a child playing at a man. A man he only wishes to become because it might make you happy.

You sigh, your gut tangling as easy as your fingers do above it. Were you any other woman but yourself, you would be pleased to have made a match as fine as this. Perhaps even mere months ago, you would have been comforted by the thought of marrying a man you had met before, even if he had been a silly, sobbing boy at the time. But now, as you are, you cannot care for this-- this life your father wished for you, with no thought to your own.

“About the state of the agreement between our fathers.” Your breath catches in your chest before you manage, “They are both gone.”

Shuuka peers at you with shining eyes, and oh, if only you could choose your words as gently as he deserved. But you know better; a man who wears a hard helm often keeps a harder head beneath it, and women’s words only penetrate such a barrier if they are drawn to a point.

“That I know,” he says, so soft. “And I am sorry for it. But we may yet do what they willed for our future.”

“That is not all,” you continue, each word stinging with guilt. “This understanding was dissolved long before either of them was brought back into the great shepherd’s fold. When my family fell upon misfortune...”

You had hoped it would be easier to speak of it, but the words stick to your teeth, refusing to leave the safety of your mouth. Shuuka reaches out, clasping his hand in yours with far too much understanding for what you wish to say.

“I am not proud of what my father did,” he tells you, sincerity ringing from his words, clear as a church bell. “Though I am certain he thought it would be for the best, at the time. He never pledged my troth to any other, and above any other woman he had entertained to be the Lady of Laxdo, it was of you he spoke most highly.”

“That is--” hard to believe. Not when you spent most of your betrothal dance trodding on his son’s toes-- “Kind of you to say. I know that you value the words of your father above all others--”

“My father’s esteem is exceeded only by that of the Lord in Heaven, may he ever sit at his right hand.” Pain hollows his eyes, so raw that even in health he gleams gaunt beneath the moon’s light. You have both lost your fathers, but this wound is fresh, bleeding still, and yours--

Well, yours sewed up just fine with a little needle and thread. How quickly a wound heals when you must see to it yourself.

“Would that I could talk to him,” Shuuka rasps, fingers clenching around stone. “But I trust that if he could see you now, he would see a daughter still.”

His grief burns brightly, a halo that surrounds him-- no, a shroud, the sort that might bury him beside his fathers bones if he did not take care. It is that which makes all this worse, which turns what you must do from a discomfort to a cruelty. But it is better yet than what it could be if you indulged him, if you let pity and kindness stand where only love should.

“Yes, I understand,” you murmur, gathering every last draught of courage. “But I must admit, my lord, that I do not hold my own father in such esteem. You are a kind man, Lord Shuuka, the sort any woman would count her blessings should she find you as her husband, but I...”

You flounder, the night pressing in thickly around you. What you wouldn’t give for crickets, if only to break the silence.

“Ah.” There is a wealth of hurt hidden in that breath. “But you mean to say that it shall not be you, Lady Lynet.”

“What?” Zen’s eyes blink wide, so bright, so blue across from her. “You’re turning him down?”

Shirayuki stares. “What do you mean?”

“He’s a lord, isn’t he?” It’s a strange thing to ask, especially when they just spent the last week and change-- well, four hours really-- at his castle, but here was Zen, looking toward Izana like he needed clarification. “Wouldn’t Lynet, you know...?”

“Um.” Even with a sweep of Zen’s wrist and the emphatic lift of his eyebrows, Shirayuki still can’t see how that sentence might finish itself. “No, I don’t.”

It’s quiet enough to hear a pin drop, so when Obi lets out a hiccup, isn’t not exactly inconspicuous. She glances over at him, and from the way his mouth twitches at the corners, she’s hardly the first. “Is something...?”

Wrong, she means to say, but Obi gives a single solid shiver and collapses onto the table, head buried in his arms.

There’s a breath where her fingers go numb on the table, where her heart beat practically deafens her as it pound in her ears. She’s not here in the room, she’s out in the yard, a wrinkled arm reaching out to her, and all she can think about is where her phone is, whether she can reach it from here--

“My, my.” Izana’s drawl rattles her back to the table, gaze skittering over Zen’s forbidding glare, the clasped hand over Kiki’s mouth, Mitsuhide’s wide-eyes-- “Isn’t that an interesting question. Now just what does make Lord Shuuka such an attractive partner?”

Obi lifts his head, still trembling, but it’s not some medical event. Oh no, he’s just-- just laughing. Shirayuki catches her breath, holds it, and thinks of a triangle becoming a decagon.

Nothing is wrong. Everyone is safe. Healthy.

“W-well.” Zen’s voice creaks from the reach she suspects he’s about to make. “He has ah, hmm...”

“Large tracts of land?” Obi offers, so helpful.

Zen hands stiffen where he holds them out in front of him. “I wasn’t going to say that.”

His brows give a wiggle. “Looks like it.”

“I--”

“Castle Perilous already has land,” Shirayuki interjects, hoping the tremble hasn’t reached her voice. “Plenty of it.”

Obi leans back in his chair with a grin. “Castle Perilous has everything! Large tracts of lands, at least two level or dungeons, an ominous name...”

She flicks him a flat look. “My point is, Lynet doesn’t need a manor to maintain-- she already left that to save her sister. She has a quest, she doesn’t need--” she waves her hands, steady now-- “romance.”

Obi’s brow ticks up, just the tiniest bit.

“I mean, not with a man she’s only known a week,” she blurts out, feeling heat simmering beneath her collar, licking at her ears. “Why would I be playing D&D if I just wanted to-- to marry Lynet off to the first guy she saw?”

Zen’s mouth fall slack, eyes glued to his character sheet. “Huh.”

“Gee,” Kiki drawls, “all that production for nothing.”

“Shut--”

“If we’re all quite done?” Izana suggests pointedly. “I believe Lady Lynet is not quite done breaking her beau’s heart. Also--” those pale eyes cut toward her, eyebrow quirked pedantically-- “it’s Pathfinder, by the way.”

Kiki lets out a huff. “It’s the same thing.”

With exaggerated care, Izana nudges her character on the map. “It’s really not.”

You take Shuuka’s hands in your own; they’re soft, callused on the mounts like Arturius’. A swordsman’s hands, though not a warrior’s. He flushes beneath your touch, and you wonder if he is bothered by the rough touch of your own, marred by scrapes and scars, so unlike a lady’s that you might as well be a different country. That is what your father had called you once: a different country, the fondness thick in his voice.

That had been before. He had been a different man. You had been a different Lynet. A time you would long for, if you thought it might make any difference at all.

“I have my own path I must tread, my lord,” you murmur, “one that cannot be turned aside for my own comfort.”

He nods, head heavy. “I see. You too have your own quest of honor, like His Grace. A glory that only you can seek.”

“If only it were for glory--” your fingers stiffen in his hold, teeth gritting down on the troubles that long to pass through them-- “instead of to right the wrongs that have been done.”

His brows lift, and you do not imagine the offer in his eyes, the one that says you would only need to breathe the word, and he would raise his own blade in your honor. “To you?”

Your tongue would tie itself in knots if it could. “Among many.”

“I understand.” His hand squeezes yours so gently, as if you were a thing that could break, a glass woman cradled in his palms. That is a thing these lords do not understand; glass may be delicate once blown thread-thin, but it is first forged in fire, born at a temperature that would char flesh. “Perhaps, though, when you are done...”

It feels cruel to reject him, a man that loves the lady you could have been, but it is crueler still to give him hope where there is little to spare.

“Perhaps,” you say, stilted. It is too mild an answer for the passion in his eyes, but you learned long ago that fate’s whims could not be foreseen by any mortal heart. “But please, my lord. Do not wait for me.”

“It will be hard not to, my lady, for a woman like you is not easily found. However--” he lets out a raw chuckle-- “I do know what love sounds like when I hear it, and it...does not warm your voice when we speak.”

“I...”

Shuuka holds up one hand, chagrined, the other still wrapped in yours. “You owe me no explanation. I only mean to wish you well.”

He lifts your hand to his lips, laying a soft kiss to its back. “May God go with you, my lady. I pray you will not forget your loyal servant in your trials.”

“I...will not,” you breathe, wishing you might be the girl that could love this man. You cannot, you cannot, but oh, how much easier your road would be if you did. “Thank you.”

“Well,” Mitsuhide hums, smile hung awkwardly. “He seems nice!”

Zen nods, pink looming just under the apples of his cheeks. “A good, ah, potential ally.”

Shirayuki stares.

“You two,” Kiki starts, every syllable so overflowing with derision they practically leak, “are ridiculous.”

Obi looks fit to bursting as well-- at least, if the state of his twitching mouth is anything to go by-- but before he can get one word in edgewise, Izana clears his throat.

“Now that this little interlude is complete,” he drawls, casting a wary glance over the table. “I expect that we can move on?”

“No, wait, I’m sorry!” Shirayuki bursts out breathlessly. “Just--” she glances at Obi, squirming under the question in his eyes-- “just one more thing. I promise.”

Izana settles back in his chair, brows raised. “Oh no, by all means. Color me...” His mouth curves into a smirk that would cause a cleverer woman to reconsider. “...Intrigued.”

Your neck aches; beneath your veil, your hair lies heavy on your scalp, pinned and tied to within an inch of its life. There is no more of it than usual, you are sure, but it weighs on you now, a fetter meant to hobble your steps. A shackle meant to drag you down, to halt your progress forward. Perhaps that is always what it was meant to be.

A proper lady would not remove her covering until she was safely ensconced in her chambers; such manners had been pressed upon you since your first courses, first by your nurse and then again by your father. Modesty was a woman’s shield, and you clung to it then as if it could protect you, afraid of what might happen to you without it. No, afraid of who you might be.

But you are no fine lady, not by anything but birth. Such trappings were ripped from your hands, and now--

Now you are Lynet, alchemist and arcanist, and you keep nothing that will not serve you. Your fingers wedge beneath the fine linen, pins falling to your feet as you work them free. Everything about Laxdo may squeeze you, trying to fit you back in the mold your father made, but you will not, not ever again.

It may have been years since you last stepped in Laxdo’s halls, but this past week has made it something like a home, your feet carrying you with ease through the twisting corridors. A different answer but a moment ago and these would have been yours, your home in truth, but to stay here, to forget the power that you tamed with your own two hands and become nothing more than Shuuka’s wife--

It’s unthinkable. A life not meant for you. Though your sister would like it fine enough.

Your feet stutter beneath you, breath caught tight in your chest. Who are you to say what she would want, when you--

You shake yourself. This guilt won’t serve either, not if you let it hold you in place. Your gaze lifts, and finally you see where your industrious feet have brought you: Beaumains’ door.

It was inevitable that they would; your own chamber is on the same hall, mere steps away. But you had not meant to come here, to linger, save that-- that you had, for he has been on your mind since he delivered you to the dais, since Arturius had him sent from it to the revelry below. His voice has thrummed beneath your veins since you looked across the hall and saw him missing from the tables below, your mind turning over every word he spoke this night to see if his disappearance is merely a missing piece to a puzzle you have already solved. But no solutions have appeared before you, and now--

Now you stand here, head bare at his threshold, wondering whether you will be welcome.

You hand raises, hesitating above the grain. You could leave now, and no one would ever know. But if you did, if you simply left with no word, and found him gone on the morrow...

You knock twice. Then thrice. There is not a whisper from the other side of the door. You know better than to assume that means there is no man, not such a one as Beaumains.

“Beaumains,” you murmur, palm pressed flat against the wood. “Beaumains, if you are there...”

Your lips press to a thin line. You had not planned this, planned any of it, and your words will not come. You do not even know which ones you speak if they would.

Your forehead rests against the door, the ridges of its grain digging into your skin. “If you are there, I am here.”

There is no answer but silence.

“Goodnight,” you say finally. “I will...” You hesitate, breath catching in your chest. “I will see you on the morrow.”

Izana, at least, is happy to move on.

“If you have spells to prepare,” he offers graciously, “you may do so now, before we start the morning.”

Kiki raises an imperious brow. “I take it we’ll be doing combat, then?”

With a beatific smile, Izana informs her, “You may prepare for any eventuality you see fit.”

“Yeah.” Zen sighs, flipping to his spell list. “Combat.”

Shirayuki shuffles through her index cards, chewing on her cheek. Next to her Obi has affected a casual slouch, arm thrown haphazardly over his chair back and legs stretching well onto Zen’s side of the table. He doesn’t seem stressed, not like how she feels sitting in the splash zone of of their high stakes game of I’m Not Touching You during this fantasy field trip.

Her phone slides into her hand easier than it ever has, thumb sliding surreptitiously across the keyboard. Are you okay?

Her teeth grit down as soon as it’s sent, regret bitter on her tongue. It’s a stupid thing to ask; a feeling that grows when she watches him work his phone out of his pocket, eyebrows lifting as he reads.

His mouth curls into a satisfied smirk. peachy keen

Are you sure? Shirayuki peeks up from her cards, casting a subtle glance toward the end of the table. Izana’s bowed behind the screen, pen gracefully curving over page-- notes. He’s taking notes. I wanted to make sure Zen isn’t scaring you off.

lol impossible

A breath hisses out her nose, fingers tightening around the case. Leave it to Obi to make this into a joke. He’s really not a bad guy, I promise. I don’t know why he’s choosing to act like one.

A smothered noise hiccups out beside her, too loud in the room’s silence. Four heads bob up, three blond and one brown, and Obi smooths the noise out into a cough, a gentle clearing of his throat.

“Dorito,” he says with a tight wheeze, mouth twitching. “Musta gone down the wrong pipe.”

“Ah,” Izana hums, his eyes narrowing. “Of course.”

Zen, however, frowns. “We have Doritos?”

Obi’s mouth stretches into a smile. “You did.”

“How--?”

“Are we done with preparations, then?” Izana asks smoothly, settling back in his chair. “Should we continue...?”

“Ah, no!” Zen grimaces, ducking his head. “Just-- another minute.”

i got a good idea, Obi texts once. heads are down. but don worry im not going newere His teeth flash as he sends, jus had 2 take care f s/t

She glances up, and his grin is there to greet her, only growing wider when he reads the question in her eyes.

“Don’t worry, my lady,” he murmurs, shifting close enough for the words to ghost over her cheek. “Trust me.”

You wake to hue and cry, to chaos in the halls. A lord’s daughter might lay abed still, waiting for her maids to fetch her, but you were the Lady of Castle Perilous; when Morgaine comes to fetch you, you are already dressed, tucking the last tresses of red beneath your coif. She blinks, those midnight-dark eyes going wide before her expression settles into something far more grim, something more resigned than surprise.

“Beaumains isn’t in his chamber,” she tells you, no cushion in her words, only the bruising impact of the truth. “We suspect he never made it back to it.”

Your breath catches in your chest, struggling against its cage. “That can’t be true. Last night I...”

Spoke to his door, with not a single sign of him within.

“When the maid came to tend his hearth this morning, his cot was undisturbed and the fire burnt down to embers.” Morgaine fixes you with a steady gaze, braced as a man about to take a blow. “We mean to look for him.”

You snatch your cloak from where it hangs, winding it about your shoulders. “Then let us go. If he has been taken, then--”

“I suspect he has been taken by naught by stupidity, the same as any man,” the princess grouses, falling into step beside you as you hurry down the steps to the yard. “My brother wounded his pride, and he sought to restore it. Or at least commit some feat to let it scab cleanly.”

It rankles how much each word rings true. You had no brothers at Castle Perilous, but men you had in spades, and every one fool enough to put himself in mortal peril to salve his pride. “Let us hope you are wrong?”

Morgaine lets out a rasping laugh. “You prefer him to be in the hands of the enemy, then?”

“Rather than his own stupidity?” you ask, breathless, waiting for the yard’s door to open. “Always.”

When they do, your heart stops, stuttering right up into your throat.

“Alas.” The word hisses through Morgaine’s smile. “You are destined to be disappointed.”

Beaumains sits in the yard, perched merrily atop a cart drawn into the middle of it. You cannot, from this angle, divine what it is filled with, only that it is solid enough to hold him and his ego. Temper climbs up your neck, as choking as any ivy; to think, you worried about his heart enough to trouble your own, and now he sits here as if naught but a moment has passed from the night into the evening, as if this were but yet another day he spent in your company.

Oh, how you could climb that cart yourself to give him a piece of your mind. You do not-- would not, before all these men of Laxdo-- but the temptation lashes yours soles as thoroughly as any devil.

“Beaumains.” Arturius marches forth from the crowd, wrath crackling in the air as he walks. “What is the meaning of this? We awake to you missing, and now--?”

“So I heard.” His smile shines in the morning sun, just as brightly as his horns. “I was here, of course. Waiting.”

The Prince of the Angles flushes crimson, the whole of his frame shaking. “Then why would you not--?”

“For a lark.” His teeth flash; fitting since he wields his words like a blade. “Though I did leave last night. You see, something bothered me, and not just your manners.”

“Demon--”

“Devil,” Beaumains corrects, as fastidious as any tutor. “And you see, all this celebrating, it didn’t make sense. Not when we hadn’t solved who cursed our friend here.”

He holds one dark, clawed hand out to where Shuuka stands, gaping. “Me? But I thought--?”

“You know as well as any that we have been searching tirelessly,” Arturius snaps, temper well and truly frayed. “And now you come to mock us for it? Is it a fight you ask for? Is that what you desire? For I am happy to give it to you, if you do not--”

“I want no fight,” Beaumains scoffs. “I want results. And so...”

With a desultory kick, the back of the cart falls open, and out of it--

Ah, and out of it pours forth a mound of bodies.

“And so,” he continues with relish, “I got some.”

“You can’t do that,” Zen murmurs, but it’s not in anger. No, that’s shock that slackens his jaw, and with the number of tokens Obi just dropped on the map, it’s working on Shirayuki too. “That’s not-- he can’t do that, can he?”

“He just did,” Izana replies, somehow both weary and amused at the same time.

“But...” Zen stares at them, more than a dozen tokens sprawled over the grid. “How.”

Obi grins. “Skill.”

Izana casts him a dark, yet exhausted, glance. “He rolled very, very well.”

Shuuka skirts nearer, his face pale with shock. “Those are the men who sold us firewood. The very same you pulled from our hearths.”

“That they are.” Beaumains sits back on the cart; now that you can see inside it you see his seat is not a crate, as you had assumed, but two bodies stacked atop each other, the blood drying around their mouths and necks. “Or at least that’s what I was hoping, Master, since otherwise I’d have made a mortifying mistake indeed.”

Arturius has not moved, instead staring down at the hand that laid at his feet, at the twisted grimace the deceased’s face has twisted into. “You did this alone? With no other man to help you?”

“I surely did,” the devil sing-songs, his grin honing to a point. “Could you find me such a one, daring enough to help on a night so dark as the last?”

The prince’s jaw sets hard as granite, but his eyes belie his sternness, shining with heady mix of admiration and something that savors strongly of jealousy. “Well,” he grits out, shoulders jerking towards his ears. “I cannot fault you your skill, devil, but now there is no chance of us learning how or why this deed came to be done.”

Beaumains scoffs, enjoying every moment he sits above the Prince of all the Angles. “Have a little faith, O Master Mine. Before they met the fates they bought with their cursed coin, I asked them what man or beast compelled them to act. And they told me--” his eyes flash with triumph-- “a man in red.”

There is no chance for you to stifle your gasp, not when you see that armor shining before you, crimson in candlelight. Not when even now, that spiked gauntlet reaches toward you--

“Lynet?” Morgaine’s grasp brings you back to yourself, to the moment you inhabit. “Are you well?”

“Fine, fine,” you assure her. “It is only--”

That you may know who this enemy of Laxdo is. That you yourself have come to see him vanquished, but yet--

You cannot speak of it. Not even if you wished.

“You may thank me at your leisure, sirrah,” Beaumain crows, getting to his feet. Even now your stomach roils as you look, the blood nothing more than a black sheen on his boots. “I am ever at your--” he leaps, landing on the ground before Arturius’s gaze. “At your service.”

And with a singular, extravagant bow, Beaumains tips face first into the cobbles.

“Wait.” Shirayuki blinks down at the toppled figure, resting on a spray of tokens, right next to a white-painted 1. “What just happened?”

“Beaumains--” Izana’s mouth twitches at a corner-- “had but a single hit point left.”

Long fingers pluck the die from its resting place among the bodies, as if quick reflexes could keep them all from seeing the rock Obi just dropped. He glowers down at it-- all black and golden and glimmering, just like him-- and shoves it back into his bag. “And glass ankles, apparently.”

A low, heady laugh rolls across the table, Kiki kicking up her feet with a smirk. “This is why we invest in CON.”

Obi scoffs. “Please, I made it out with HP to spare.”

“Yeah,” she says, “one.”

“Well,” he grumbles, “it was enough, wasn’t it?”

You stoop to where Beaumains sits, propped up by the stable’s post and Bedwyr’s shoulder, hand raised to heal--

“Please.” Bedwyr’s impressive hand gently guides yours away, his smile tight and concerned. “You must save your strength, my lady.”

“I just awoke, sir,” you remind him, mouth pulled into an irritated line. “I am as fresh as I shall ever be.”

The knight cants his head, though you know him too well to believe he might fully acquiesce to you. “I know that well enough. But it is your talent we will need, should any challenges arise before day’s end. And this is entirely within my--”

“No, no.” Beaumains stirs at his side, eyes sliding open to relieve the unrelenting shadow of his face. “Let the pretty lady lay her hands on me, paladin. Her touch is far softer than yours.”

Ah, it would have been best for him not to say such things before the whole of Castle Laxdo. Or at least, not in front of its lord. The weight of his gaze already presses heavy on your back, growing only more weighty as Beaumains sears a bleary line up you with his gaze.

He’s far to gone to keep it steady; already it wanders, tracing Bedwyr’s lines as well, and--

“Wait, no, never mind,” he slurs, squinting up at that giant of a man. “You’ll do too, sir, if you’re so eager to put your hand--”

Bedwyr presses a palm to the center of Beaumain’s forehead, and with an authority you know can only come from the Lord in Heaven, he intones, “SLEEP.”

“You know, big guy,” Obi drawls, grin already stretching from ear to ear. “I’m pretty sure paladins don’t get those spells. And fighters definitely don’t.”

Mitsuhide glances up from his sheet, straight at Izana.

He smirks. “I’ll allow it.”

Beaumains sleeps the slumber of the ensorcelled. That is, complete and utterly quiet.

Bedwyr peered down, and with a nod of his head, declares, “That’s much better.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #dungeons & dragons au #my fic #ans #listen i know i said ONE chapter until the end of this arc #but like #TECHNCIALLY next chapter is gonna be the OOC wrap up for this arc #the session is complete though!#fans of this fic may REJOICE #you have two updated planned over the next two months too #Ch 9 is already in progress #and provided it does not grow out of proportion...should be complete by mid-september #and there's another update planned for late october that should hopefully kick off next arc #and perhaps...a POV CHANGE >:3c

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9worldstales · 4 years ago

Text

MCU: Loki and Midgardian clothes

So, I’ve seen some fans wondering how could Loki fix Mobius’ tie since Asgardians clearly do not wear ties…

…and it made me wonder ‘is this a mistake or Loki was actually familiar with Midgardians clothes?’

So let’s start with the sources at our disposition to answer this question.

SOURCES MENTIONED:

Movies: “Thor” (2011), “The Avengers” (2012), “Thor – Ragnark” (2017)

Series: “Loki” [More exactly a scene from: “Marvel Studios' Loki | Official Trailer | Disney+”] (2021)

Comics: None mentioned

Direct-to-video animated film: None mentioned

Motion comics: None mentioned

Books: “The Art of Thor” (2011), “The art of The Avengers” (2012), “The Art of Thor: Ragnarok” (2017), “Marvel Studios: All your questions answered” (2018)

Novels: “Thor: Ragnarok - The Junior novel” by Jim McCann (2017)

Webs: None mentioned

Others: “Thor” old movie script

Okay, now we can start.

So, as weird as it might seem at first, the second answer, which is that Loki is familiar with Midgardian modern attires, might be the intended one, right from “Thor”.

Let’s go back to that movie.

Thor is clearly unfamiliar with present day Midgard as a whole, and so are his friends.

We’ve various moments in which Thor shows he’s unaware of present day Midgardians customs, like when he can’t realize he’s in doctors’ care and thinks they’re attacking him (in a deleted bit, when they tell him they’re trying to help him, he demands they bring him healing stones, showing he has no idea how Earth’s healing system work), or when he breaks a glass asking another believing he’s showing appreciation for the drink, or when he enters in a pet shop, demands a horse and when they tell him they’ve only dogs, cats, birds, demands one of them big enough to ride.

It doesn’t mean he never went to Midgard, in the movie there’s the implication he had been on Midgard before...

Thor: We're going to Jotunheim. Fandral: What? This isn't like a journey to Earth where you summon a little lightning and thunder, and the mortals worship you as a god. This is Jotunheim.

...and there was a cut scene in which he recognized being on Midgard and even calling it ‘Earth’.

Thor: Blue sky... one sun... This is Earth, isn't it?

And there’s another cut scene that says that yes, Sif and the Warriors Three had been on Earth… but a thousand years ago.

Volstagg: Is it just me, or does Earth look a little different to you? Sif: It has been a thousand years... Volstagg: Things change so fast here. You leave for a millennium, and it's like the whole neighborhood's gone.

Now, Loki was a babe in 965 AD and “Thor” takes place in 2011. Sif likely doesn’t mean exactly 1000 years but, what’s more, we don’t know how exactly Asgardians age in the MCU.

Does their childhood last as much as ours and then their aging process slow down so as to allow them to live 5000 years? Or their aging process is proportionately all slowed down and they remains babes for years?

I tend to think their childhood is fast and then they have a slower aging process once they reach a certain age, but anyway this is irrelevant. Even if Loki visited Midgard 1000 years before and was familiar with its customs back then, well, things, as Volstagg points out, are changed a lot.

So… where do we can get an idea if Loki is familiar with Midgard or not?

When Loki goes to see Thor, he shows up dressed up in 21st century Midgardian attire.

In “The Art of Thor” is said:

Said Craig Kyle, “Loki wants to look good, he’s a man of style… Loki actually has three looks, Thor has one.” In addition to the three costumes he wears in the otherworldy realm of Asgard, Loki also makes a brief appearance in a suit and tie. Said Tom Hiddleston, “When he turns up on Earth in the movie, [he’s] very GQ.”

(For who, like me, is not familiar with the term GQ, it is used to describe a guy who is dressed nicely, very sleek, or very sexy to the ladies, The term comes from the men's fashion magazine named GQ (=Gentlemen's Quarterly).)

They don’t really explains why Loki decided to dress up like that, but the fact he chose to is meaningful.

Loki was going to see Thor, and he only let Thor see him.

He appears in the room Thor was, presumably after waiting for a while inside it but invisible since he complains about how he thought Coulson would never leave. When Coulson is back, Loki has magically disappeared again.

People doesn’t see Loki, not even when he tries to lift up Mjolnir.

Long story short, Loki’s attire is not to disguise himself as a human among humans and walk among them unnoticed, as he just doesn’t let them see him at all, and if he were, his very fashionable outfit would likely draw more gazes than anything else (compare it with Coulson’s plain suit), especially when he tries to lift Mjolnir while all around it there are scientists dresses in scientist garbs and guards dressed in guard uniforms.

So we can see Loki didn’t need to dress as a human to see Thor, he could have very well gone there in his normal Asgardians clothes, like he does when he goes to visit Laufey...

...though he could have forsaken the armour when visiting Thor, and just show up in his normal attire.

Instead Loki picked up a stylish Midgardian outfit to go meet his brother. Be it an illusion (more likely) or real clothes, Loki knew how a fashionable 21st century Midgardian would dress and decided to dress as such even though there was no need for it. This implies a familiarity with Midgard, or at least with its dressing style, which I genuinely doubt could have been a topic of study for Asgardians... even though Odin too was familiar with Midgardians attires as, when he bans Thor to Earth, he changes his clothes into modern, ordinary, definitely not fashionable Midgardian ones.

Loki knows the secret paths between words, it can be he travelled to Midgard and, once there, grew to like the elegant style we have.

But yes, this doesn’t necessarily mean he could learn how to fix a tie, as his clothes might be an illusion.

The final bit of “Thor” is a bit of a confusing thing as it shows Loki (dressed in Asgardian clothes) invisible to other people’s eyes controlling Selvig...

...which is confirmed by “Marvel Studios: All your questions answered” which describes that scene as:

Loki controls Selvig as he examines the Tesseract.

If Loki had controlled Selvig for an extensive period he might have learnt to tie ties as Selvig wears one.

However, although this scene was created and directed by Joss Whedon, this scene is kind of forgotten when “The Avengers” rolls around.

In it Selvig is free from Loki’s control until Loki uses the sceptre with the mind stone to turn him into his servant.

Now… “The Avengers”.

The story starts by night, with Loki arriving in the S.H.I.E.L.D. research center in which Selvig is studying the Tesseract.

Natasha Romanov, Bruce Banner, Steve Roger and Tony Stark are all warned during night. It’s possible it’s the same night, maybe it’s the night after.

It’s full day when Steve Roger travels with Coulson. The following scene shows Loki remembering his talk with the Other and then we’ve Steve reaching the Helicarrier and meeting up with Natasha and Bruce.

Then Loki shows up at Stuttgart Museum again dressed up in 21st Century attire with his sceptre disguised as a cane. This time Loki is sort of disguising himself, as he’s actually planning to draw attention on himself but, at first, in a subtle manner so it makes sense he dressed up as a Midgardian to move among Midgardians so as not to alert common people but end up being tracked by SHIELD because they can see him on monitors and recognize him… something they wouldn’t be able to do had he been invisible.

Loki drops his disguise only later, after he has sent a holographic image of Dr. Heinrich Schafer’s eye to Barton. He confront with Steve and Tony and vanish his armour… remaining in Asgardian clothes. He’s short after taken by Thor, who then argues with Steve and Tony until Thor decides to get along with them and Loki is carried on the Helicarrier all in the same night.

Natasha takes care to inform us Loki killed 80 people in 2 days. This should mean Loki is on Midgard by two days.

Why all this is relevant?

Again Loki dressed up as a stylish Midgardian,

...his clothes similar to the ones he had in “Thor” yet vaguely different (in “Thor” the coat is green, in “The Avengers” black and the scarf motive is slightly different) and even knew that, in order to disguise the sceptre, he can’t mask it as, let’s say, a pitchfork but a cane. It’s true, since he’s been on Earth by 2 days, this time he could have gotten that knowledge by Barton or Selvig.

“The art of The Avengers” again doesn’t tell us much apart that:

“Joss and Kevin both wanted a different look for Loki in The Avengers, in part for the fans and in part to serve the story,” Visual Development Supervisor Charlie Wen said.” For Loki, his costumes evolved from the super-clean look of the Asgard from Thor to a much grittier and more lived-in look to show the changes he’s gone through since then.” “For Thor and Loki, much of our inspiration came from Jack Kirby’s original character designs,” Wen said. “Loki represent mischief. He is a cultured traveller.”

But, if we put clothes aside, Loki is also aware of how:

Loki: The humans slaughter each other in droves, while you idly threat. I mean to rule them. And why should I not?

It’s something Thor didn’t seem to know/realize.

This seems to imply Loki knows about Earth’s history or, at least, of its present situation. Yes, he might have had a crash course in history of Earth courtesy by Clint or Selvig, but he might have also learnt it by himself in trips on Earth since Odin didn’t seem interested in Earth beyond protecting it from some attacks from creatures from other realms (he helps against the Frost Giants, however he doesn’t seem aware of the Skrulls and Krees walking on its surface nor he cares to check what humans do with the Tesseract doing nothing when Red Skull uses it to produce weapons) so he might not have bothered having his son learning about Midgard’s history and situation.

The last time we see Loki dressed as a human is in “Thor: Ragnarok”.

In it his clothes are much more simple than usual as he only wears a black suit, no scarf, no coat.

In “The Art of Thor: Ragnarok” there’s actually not one but 2 arts for more elaborate suits with coat but they were clearly discharged as Loki never wears them in the movie.

“Thor: Ragnarok The Junior novel” which is based on an earlier script says:

They were dressed in regular Earth street wear – shirt and slacks – and Thor carried an umbrella. His hair was swept back into a ponytail. Loki’s magic was projecting an illusion onto the duo.

...which seems to imply the scriptwriter originally didn’t even think dressing Loki stylish… and anyway mostly focused on Thor... so it’s possible Loki’s attire in the movie is a compromise between the scriptwriter, who though to dress Loki in shirt and slacks, and "Thor: Ragnarok” Visual Development Supervisor Andy Park who wanted to put him in an elegant and stylish suit as the other Visual Development Supervisors had done.

Still, the scriptwriter too thinks Loki is aware of how, if Thor wants to keep an object in his hands, it has to look like something ordinary and how an umbrella can fit the bill. As it didn’t rain during Loki’s short permanence on Earth, the fact he knows umbrellas exist and is acceptable to carry them around seems to imply Loki has an idea of how Earth works.

So all this to say… yes, Loki might be more familiar with Earth than it looked like and he might have learnt how to make a tie or, at least, how to fix it since this is more what he seems to do in that scene in “Marvel Studios' Loki | Official Trailer | Disney+”

We can only wait and see if “Loki” will give us more explanations about this scene or it will just toss it in and not bother to explain it at all.

Meanwhile I’ll have fun thinking before things went wrong Loki used to come on Earth and look up on fashion magazines and love the idea of how good he would look in such clothes that he began to dress up according to Midgard fashion style each time he got to set a feet on it.

#loki #loki odinson #thor #thor odinson #volstagg #fandral #lady sif #mcu loki #mcu thor #mcu the avengers #mcu thor ragnarok #9 worlds study

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botwstoriesandsuch · 4 years ago

Note

Idk if you do ship ask but I've always hc that most ritos are affraid of thunder, since that could very easily harm/kill something flying (like a rito), so do you have any headcanons about link comforting revali during a thunderstorm?

Heya! Thanks for sending this ask, I had so much fun writing it! If you wanna know why it took so long, it’s because I accidentally keep making these essentially oneshots instead of headcanons...I get too wrapped up in the atmosphere lmao.

Anyhow, please enjoy, and thanks for your patience! :P

Revalink during a thunderstorm:

2553 words

Revali always thought green was a decent color, it paired well with his evening blue feathers and eyes after all

But this trip was really challenging his beliefs…

“Tree. Tree. Large tree. Giant tree. Leaf. Bush. Greenery. Tree. Giant leaf. A verdant green. Emerald green. Fern green…” He listed off his observations rhythmically

Revali suddenly stopped walking, patting Link on the back.

“Why Link, you won’t believe this, but if you look up now, you can experience this rare sight of a tree. Impressive isn’t it?”

Link turned his head to see Revali gesture grandly at the Faron scenery, before rolling his eyes. ‘You’re such an ass…’

The Rito smirked, content with the annoyance he was causing Link, before continuing to walk beside him, pointing out the “variety” of nature.

He had been traveling with Link across the jungles of Faron, helping him fly over the waterfalls and rivers for...reasons he had forgotten. Something ordered by the Princess? Checking Shrines? Updating ruin locations? Something, something, Zonai, Sheikah, database...and other nonsense words that Revali didn’t really care for, point was, “this expedition would run all the more smoothly with your skill set,” so, here he was.

In hindsight that was probably only said to flatter him into coming, but it’s not like Revali was going to complain. One on one time with Link wasn’t an opportunity he would have passed up on, anyway

Walking under the lush forest canopy, Revali picked at the 700th vine tangled in Link’s hair. “This exploration stuff sure is paying off...I’m experiencing so many new things. Like plants, and water, and bugs. Never could have experienced this anywhere else.”

Link raised an eyebrow, holding up his hands to sign, ‘Come on now, don’t be like that. We’ll be done with this soon, so quit being pretentious for two seconds and enjoy the beauty of nature!’

Right, because the beauty of the sweltering, sickly green, claustrophobic jungle crawling with insects and slimy creatures, dwelling in a sticky, sappy, foliage that seemed to tie your wings down to the earth with it’s grasping vines and prickly leaves… THAT was just the thing for a Rito from Tabantha to enjoy

Revali clicked his tongue. “You think I’m the pretentious one? That one leaf is the size of a Hinox’s arse. What’s even the point of that?? Do the lizards hate the sky that much?” He gestured towards the thick canopy above once again

Link’s expression suddenly changed as he peered through the leaves, noting how the sky’s sunset colors had started to darken with greying clouds. He spoke bluntly

‘There’s a storm coming.’

“Oh? Wonderful…”

‘I think there’s a cave we can use for shelter near the northernmost waterfall.’

“Think? My ability of flight, and overall state of being, is not suited for moisture, so I’d really prefer if you were a bit more certain than, ‘think!’”

‘Well we can always sleep out here if you want… We’ll have to stay overnight judging by the size of those storm clouds.’

Revali shuddered as another sapphire blue lizard crawled across the forest floor near his talons, much too close for comfort. The image of laying down in the dirt, being mocked by the infectious green that covered the sky, for over eight hours, he audibly groaned.

Fine, hypothetical cave it is.

“Get on my back already. The sooner the day is done, the better, I suppose.”

Flying through the air, Revali feathers rustled in the growing wind, he could start to smell the storm in the air. Thankfully, Link’s cave turned out to be real, providing dry shelter from the oncoming, feather-drenching rain, thank Hylia. If he had to do his braids and ribbons again after he spent all morning just—

BOOM!

Not two seconds after Revali had landed them both in the cave, a deafening sound shook the ground and carried Revali’s soul to hell, heaven, and back. The sound that escaped his beak was none short of a shrill squeak you might hear come out of a thousand baby birds.

Behind them, green sparks fizzed against the earth, starting a small fire, before it was quickly extinguished by the now pouring rain.

Revali shuddered, shaking off the few droplets on his wing. His feathers seemed to tremble from the charge in the air, and his mind was racing with thoughts of what would have happened if he was two seconds slower in his descent, but he concealed it all with a neutral frown.

“This forest is lucky the rain started, that bright explosion of death nearly made me think we were under attack, I’d have nocked a bomb arrow or two.”

‘The...thunder and lightning, you mean?’

“Shut up I know what lightning is.”

‘I guess it makes sense you’re not that familiar...the most action you’ll see in Rito Village is cold winds and snow.’

“I said I know what lightning is.”

‘Oh, don’t worry, I heard you. I heard you very clearly a few seconds ago…’

Revali let out a few “hmphs” before sitting down on the cave floor. Link started to chuckle to himself before starting a fire, the cave was wide enough for the smoke to escape and not suffocate them, and it’s warmth was welcomed wholeheartedly by the Rito Champion.

Link thought that would be the end of it, Revali volunteered to take the first night watch, and the Hylian thought nothing of it. Before either of them knew it, Link had somehow drifted off into a peaceful sleep

BOOM!

Another crack of thunder. Sure, thunder had been roaring in air for the last two or three hours, but this time the lightning struck close enough to the cave that Link could feel the vibration against the earth.

He rose with a yawn, stretching his arms as if he had been woken by chirping birds, and not the midnight sky’s roars

Glancing towards Revali’s direction, concern started to creep onto Link’s face, as he watched the Rito with furrowed eyebrows and a frown

As far as he could tell, Revali hadn’t moved an ant’s inch from when Link had last seen him before he dozed off. His jade eyes were fixed on the jungle, and the feathers on his neck seemed to raise everything the sky glowed a shocking flash of green.

Despite having sat up from the fire, Revali didn’t seem to notice that Link had woken.

Link waved his arm in front of him, trying to catch the Rito’s gaze.

‘Hey? You ok?’

Link’s actions cut into Revali’s tumbling thoughts, but he quickly recovered from his initial shock with a click of his tongue

“I’m fine. Just watching to make sure your tired person doesn’t get ambushed by some crafty lizalfo. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Link paused, but in the end, he nodded his head in acceptance. ‘Alrighty then. Well, you go ahead and get some rest. I can take the next watch.’

“...ah. Right.”

Revali awkwardly shuffled closer to the fire, pinning his back a bit deeper into the shallow cave.

He didn’t bother to lie down

‘Are you sure you’re ok?’

“I’m fine. I’m just not tired yet is all”

‘Well you should try to get some sleep, cause tomorro—’

“Yes, I’m well aware, I don’t need the reminder of our schedule.”

‘It would probably help to not face the forest, cause the movement and noises can be distracting when you’re trying to sl—’

“Yes. I understand, thank you. As I said I’m not tired so—”

‘But Revali, I just said—’

“Look! I’m fine, stop pestering me about it, OK? All I want is to just be able to—”

BOOM!

Comically— or perhaps in this atmosphere, un-comically— a lizard fell off the side of a tree near the cave’s mouth, visibly fried and very much dead

Link, ever the survivalist, grew excited at the prospect of a free elixir ingredient, but as he turned to Revali to share this good news, he was greeted with a very still Rito, his feathers pressed stiffly against himself as he seemed to be holding down his other wing, presumably because it was shivering.

That was strange, considering Link had taken care to keep the firewood stocked. He looked at Revali again, his green eyes seemed to be swirling with racing thoughts and fears

......fears…

Hylia he was an idiot

Although in fairness, it works both ways

‘I’m sorry...I should have realized you had a greater fear of lightning given the circumstances…’

The Rito suddenly jerked his head, his voice rising in pitch by the second. “W-What?! I don’t know where you got that idea from. Circumstances?? I’ll have you know I’ve trained for years to be quite fearless.”

A sudden flash of light came from the corner of his eye, and Revali had to clamp his tongue to keep silent. If it weren’t for his feathers, he’d be as white as a dove.

‘Are you sure? I’d imagine the thought of thunderstorms are a lot worse for you Rito..’

‘You know, given all the rain, and the chance of being electrocuted, and shot out of the sky by a bolt of lightning, and the loud sounds that probably remind you of an avalanche or a bomb, and also falling out of the sk—’

Link suddenly cut himself off, realizing a bit too late that the explanation of the factors involved with thunder and lightning wouldn’t exactly help Revali’s attitude.

The Rito only stared at Link, his beak clamped shut. Finally, he let out a sigh.

“I’m fine.”

Silence, then a scoff from Link.

Yeah, right.

He started pulling out an assortment of items from his small pouch—how Link magically managed to fit cart-fulls of apples, armour, and weapons in there was beyond him. Link joked that it was because of magic tree children, at least, Revali thought he was joking

‘Ah-ha! This should make you feel better!’

Link pulled out a golden helmet, it looked Gerudo in style, and it was covered in green, red, and blue gemstones

‘This thing absorbs lightning, and disperses it, so you don’t get hurt!’

Revali raised an eyebrow, hesitant

‘No! Seriously! This thing has saved me dozens of times, it’s seen hundreds of storms, and it’s taken on countless lightning strikes directly on this part!!’

He pointed excitedly to the bright green gemstone’s at the helm’s crest.

Revali could only shift his weight in discomfort, and Link finally got the hint.

‘Ah right. Maybe the lightning prone object isn’t for you...but…’

Link pulled out a weird, flexible hat, in the shape of a fish. It’s giant eyes stared askew at the cave’s walls, and when Link put it on for demonstration purposes, it basically looked like an octorok had spat a starving fish on his hair

‘This little guy is called Lucky. He’s made out of this thing called rubber, and it’s supposed to help keep electricity from touching you. Pretty nifty fashion choice too, right?’

“I will be plucked dry and drowned before you catch me wearing that hideous thing.”

‘Lucky doesn’t appreciate your unkind words…’

A few more minutes pass by, Link unloading the items in his satchel in an attempt to ease Revali’s mind. But most suggestions failed to truly convince him. Occasionally, the storm would boom again, and Link would rub Revali’s wing gently, if only to keep his attention on the weird yellow mushrooms in his hand. Nonetheless, it was a small thing that the Rito appreciated.

After a few more rounds of talking, Revali finally sighed in defeat. “I appreciate your gesture Link, I truly do. But I’d really prefer to just, not think about lightning at all, rather than be surrounded by your cluster of trinkets and tools.”

“So again, it’s fine. I can just sit here and wait it out. Don’t torment me any further with your...endless basket of comfort foods. I do hope that you donate some of those to the needy, I can’t be seen walking around with a selfish, hoarding hero after all.”

Link ignored the quip and Revali’s attempt to deflect the conversation.

‘Are you sure there’s nothing else I can offer you?’

Revali opened his beak to say no, before closing it. He looked Link up and down, from his fuzzy golden head, to his pathetic and dirty blue tunic, to his brimming, sky blue eyes.

Revali opened and closed his beak again, before saying, “no, it’s OK.”

Link frowned, tapping his fingers to his chin.

Then, he swiftly grabbed at the blue scarf around Revali’s neck.

“W-Wha—hey!”

‘Just borrowing this for a sec!’

Despite Revali’s attempts to retrieve it, Link was already unfurling the scarf to its full length and width. Surprisingly, it was long enough, long enough for Link’s plan, anyhow

He turned back to Revali. ‘Snuggle up closer to the fire. If we’re gonna sleep towards the back of the cave like this I’d prefer to be as warm as possible

Revali’s expression was indescribable, at least verbally. Through the power of writing I can only describe the expression as something that conveyed feelings such as:

?!?!?!!?!!??!?!?!?!!!??!?!?!!?!!?

‘We’re gonna hug, you dense bastard’

Revali started to sputter out questions, and list of logical reasons as to why that suggestion was absurd. But suggestion turned to action as Link wordlessly wrapped the scarf around the two of them, before snuggling into Revali’s feathers.

On the brightside, Revali was stiff for different reasons, other than lightning.

In hindsight that was probably part of his plan

The Rito was silent, as he struggled with the decision of either allowing himself to be comfortable, nestled with his favourite soft scarf, and his favourite (he would never admit it) Champion

Or to put up his usual quips and walls

Was Link annoyed about this? Happy??

Spirits above he was so embarrassed, Link was probably doing this out of pity, like some mother tending to an infant...

Or maybe it wasn’t like that...? Was it something else?? Some other feeling that had cause him to take such a drastic action to—

‘What’cha thinking about?’

Revali felt Link’s arms move under his wing, and he looked over at the Hylian. He looked so...tranquil, and relaxed...and...stunning....despite his terribly kept hair

“Nothing.”

Link raised his eyebrow, ‘Yeah?’

Revali narrowed his eyes in confusion, but nodded, to which Link turned back and nestly his face into his soft feathers.

What kind of a question is that? What am I thinking about? This situation that came out of no where of course!!

What else would he be thinking abo—

...

The Rito could only smirk to himself finally putting together the pieces of Link’s scheme

Another moment of silence. At least, to Revali it was silent. The only sounds he could hear were of Link’s breathing, and his own heartbeat.

The thunder whispered in the background

Revali smiled, while resting his beak on Link’s soft hair

Then finally, thoughts turned to dreams turned to peace; Revali slept sound as the rain pattered to the sound of his beating heart

HA god what a loser it’s so corny I could die. Who would even right such a thing ahahaahha— oh wait

[If you enjoyed this content, a like and a reblog is greatly appreciated! Let’s me know that I should make more, while also giving me that extra serotonin.]

#botw #breath of the wild #legend of zelda botw #loz botw #botw headcanons #fuck it i might just tag this as fanfiction #botw fanfiction #revalink #revali #link #link botw

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holly-natnicole · 1 month ago

Text

[Image Description: a manga screenshot.

Uchiha Sarada runs towards an enemy, thinking: Gotta think. Neither the Fireball nor the Phoenix Blossom can penetrate his body and, just like with the others, as soon as he sees me aiming for his flank, he'll move his core.

And he's too smart for me to spring a surprise attack on him. The shirtless, stocky, and bald enemy stands ahead of Sarada, facing her. C'mon, Sarada. If only there was an attack that I knew that's faster than he can weave Signs!!

Wait!! Sarada suddenly realises whilst the enemy punches Uzumaki Boruto in the face, causing the light-haired kid's face to turn to the side.

Still running, Sarada thinks: There is!! Just one, but!!

A jutsu that can pierce his core whether he notices my aim or not, coz it's faster than weaving Signs!

A jutsu I'm still practicing... I haven't tested it in real battle yet. I might not be able to pull it off, but I've got to try! Sarada's irises change into a lighter colour with 3 comma-like marks and a thin ring added. Mitsuki notices that something is going on with Sarada.

Her right hand lights up with an aura of electricity. Boruto looks over one shoulder, seeing Sarada run forward with lightning sparking in the palm of and around her hand. The light-haired ninja thinks: Isn't that... Old Man Sasuke's...??!!

She's too fast!! the enemy realises.

Sarada squints her left eye, thinking: Dad!! Lend me strength!!

She plows through the enemy's side with her papa's signature lightning ninjutsu, thinking as she goes: CHIDORI!!

#pro sarada uchiha #uchiha #uchiha sarada #sarada #sarada uchiha #sarada using chidori in combat for the first time #chidori #raiton — chidori #raiton — one thousand birds #lightning style — one thousand birds #lightning release — one thousand birds

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skekheck · 4 years ago

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All About the Seven Clans: The Dousan

This post contains everything I could find about the Dousan. Some information written here are from older material and may either contradict statements or is no longer relevant. I will do my best to string it all together as coherently as possible. If there is information that I am missing, please let me know and I’ll add it!

Clan Index: Dousan Drenchen Grottan Sifa Spriton Stonewood Vapra

Overview

An elusive clan that lived in the Crystal Desert, also known as the Crystal Sea and Desert of the Dead. Being the most spiritual of the seven clans, their lives revolved around Thra, its mysteries, and the cycle of life and death. For these reasons other gelfling clans were suspicious and even afraid of them. The skeksis encouraged this by spreading their own rumors and barred the Dousan from becoming guards at the Castle of the Crystal for they found their worship of death revolting.

The Dousan’s clan color was orange, their totem animal the Daeydoim, and their core elements were the skies, endless heavens and the studies of its celestial bodies, and lightning. Their sigil color was dark yellow/orange and their pennant colors were orange, blue, and yellow.

Characteristics

The Dousan had one of the most striking features among other gelfling. Their skin were mainly blue, but had hints of yellow that started at the forehead and could extend down the face. Eye color tended to be very light, almost off-white in some cases, sticking to yellows, greens, and browns. Darker eye colors were also possible. Primary hair colors were purple or white with strands of dark brown and/or white. It was commonly styled in braids, ponytails, dreadlocks, and sometimes a combination of all three. Some also preferred to shave their heads. In concept art, a Dousan’s wings were white with black spots.

As they were a minimalist clan, the Dousan dressed for function over appearance and adorned themselves sparingly. They wore long flowing cloaks that protected them from the weather and were light enough to travel. They were crystal-weaved from the crystals scattered along the desert which made the Dousan blend into its sparkling, ever moving sand currents. Much like their pennant, their clothing sported dark blues, yellows, and oranges although black, browns, and reds were also worn. It was common for Dousan to have head protection, whether it were hoods, headscarfs, or other head covering. Of the few accessories a Dousan had were their bone charms, attached with simple marble and string. Spiritual leaders carved their bones with geometric patterns.

Tattoos

Arguably the most prominent feature of the Dousan were their tattoos. They weren’t just tattooed on the face, but their bodies as well. Each tattoo told a story, usually of significant experiences from their adventures in the desert. It also doubled as protection from the Three Suns. Common colors were deep blue, green, and gold, found in abundance from the pollen and plants of crystal palms. Rarer colors were white and silver. If the Dousan desired these colors, they would had to go get the material themselves. This was one of the few instances of materialism they displayed.

The tattooing process was long and painful. It was performed with Crystal Skimmer scales, a mallet, and plenty of ink. The scales were laced with thousands of small spikes and could be cut and shaped into different patterns. The tattooer, which was always an elder sage from the Wellspring, would place the scale spines facing down and pounded onto the skin so it was kept in place. Drops of ink would then be inserted into an opening carved within the scale and then bled into the skin. Because the spines were not closely knitted, the process was repeated several times to get a rich solid color.

Connection With The Skeksis (and Mystics) and Belief System

They were one of the few gelfling clans far removed from skeksis influence. The Dousan even went as far as omitting prayer and rituals based around the lords which was considered heresy. SkekMal the Hunter seemed to have been the only skeksis that interacted with them, but his visits were rare. This doesn’t mean the Dousan were completely removed from their involvement with the Lords of the Crystal. They supplied them with incense and desert-specific animals such as the peeper beetle and guided the Hunter when he needed passage through the desert. Instead, the Dousan were influenced by the skeksis’ other halves: the urru.

There was conflicting information surrounding just how many were involved (either one or two) and the name(s) are not confirmed. However, according to Songs of the Seven Clans, “guardian” and “navigator” were named. Deduction suggests they could be urZah the Ritual Guardian and urGoh the Wanderer. It was also not exactly known why the mystics taught the Dousan as the mystic way was to observe not intervene. But the Dousan inherited their beliefs and adopted an introspective nature. They were taught how to meditate, guard rituals, and listen. They also had beliefs in sacred geometry, represented by the bone charms they wore. The Dousan believed they were given the responsibility by Thra to contemplate the mysteries of life. Much like the mystics, they surrendered themselves to Thra’s will and wisdom and never interfered in the grand scheme of things even if it meant losing the precious gifts Thra provided for them.

Then, of course, was their apparent worship of life and death. They believed the threshold between the two realms were very thin and thus created a tradition around the inevitable. That being said, the Dousan believed death was not the end nor should be caused for fear or sorrow. When life ended, it began anew in Thra’s lush beauty. For many Dousan, becoming comfortable with death was a lifelong spiritual pursuit. They were also the only clan who viewed Mother Aughra and the skeksis as mortal beings instead of immortal deities.

While the mystics taught the Dousan their ways, the clan eventually forgot who they were. Their likeness was illustrated within the Wellspring Cloister, but they were constantly misinterpreted as the skeksis (which was discouraged by elder sages). The Dousan had simply referred to them as ancient sages.

Lifestyle

When the Six Sisters were given their duties, the sister which would become the first Dousan maudra was given the heavens to study the suns, moons, and stars. It was there that they made their home in the Crystal Desert.

The Dousan were nomads. Living in an arid climate plagued by storms and sands that continuously shifted discouraged permanent settlement outside the Wellspring. They made their homes out of sand skiffs (also called sand ships), their trusted Crystal Skimmers, and camps. Because of this constant change and travel, the Dousan had particularly simple and immaterial lifestyles. They had very few possessions and only carried what they needed.

Due to the scarcity of materials, they used whatever they could find including the crystals found in the desert and the remains of deceased animals. They were particularly skilled in bone carpentry, utilizing bones and other animal remains for tools, shelter, ships, and instruments. Their preferred weapon was the bone dagger. The Dousan traveled all throughout the dangerous desert, but there were places even they refused to go. They believed the Circle of the Suns, a ruin located deep within the Crystal Desert, was cursed. The clan unanimously agreed to forbade anyone from traveling there.

Daily Routine

Daily work was put into two categories: body tasks and spiritual tasks. Body tasks involved food preparation, collecting water, seeking shelter from storms, scavenging, and other types of physical labor. They were assigned during specific times of the day or in cases of emergencies. The rest of their time were dedicated to spiritual tasks. Most of it involved meditation but also included minor things like incense making and fire burning. It helped remind the Dousan of their communion with Thra and the Crystal and reflect on their own mortality. These rituals helped the clan face the harshness of the desert, approaching dangers and finding the paths to precious resources.

Diet

The Dousan were mostly vegetarian but they weren’t strangers to meat. They refrained from eating diurnal animals and hunted nocturnal insects, birds, and other animals instead. Their primary source of food came from the flowers and vegetation that grew in the desert which, unlike animals, had no restrictions. Water was collected at night as that’s when desert dew was able to form and were collected in shallow water traps. Considering the environment they lived in, they rationed their food and water but doing so taught the Dousan about self control and restraint. Before eating, they would take a moment to acknowledge the plants and animals who gave their lives so that the gelfling could consume them.

Some notable Dousan foods were fruits found at the Wellspring. They had slightly hairy, leathery rinds with yellow meat. The taste was described as sweet with a “green” after taste resembling that of meadow grass. A delicacy among the southern xerics were raw spine flower blossoms drizzled with nectar from the flower’s pollen.

While not eaten for food, the urdrupe berries were another staple vegetation of the Dousan. They were hallucinogenic and when eaten helped one converse with Thra and see the future. Taking urdrupes was a notable occurrence among shamans.

The Xerics

The Dousan had a particularly large population, but rarely would congregate together and were always apart within the vastness of the desert. Therefore, a highly organized system of close-knitted groups called xerics were created. There were twelve in total, which were made up of 12 - 30 gelfling. Smaller xerics were solely reliant on sand skirffs while larger ones needed the aid of Crystal Skimmers, sometimes more than one. A Dousan was assigned to a xeric by the Dousan Maudra and her council of sandmasters and elders based on the gelfling’s aptitude and skills. When a gelfling was assigned a xeric and left the Wellspring it was an important day and often celebrated. Each gelfling were given specific roles depending on the size and territory of that xeric.

Sandmaster: Also referred to as a captain, they were apprentices selected and trained by the Maudra. They often made decisions and acted on her behalf as well as commanded over their assigned xeric. The sandmaster carried a horn made of bone that would summon the Dousan together in emergencies. They also carried a smaller bone-like whistle to command their Crystal Skimmer if they had larger xeric. They held the highest rank above the other roles in the xeric unless the Maudra was present.

Second sandmasters: Dousan who worked and trained under the sandmaster should they need to take over. They also served in the xeric’s council, making decisions along with the sandmaster and elders before action was taken. True to their namesake, there were two of them and they held the second highest rank in the xeric.

Guardian: Gelfling that were given this role were usually the elderly members. They were ritual guardians well versed in meditations and practices observed and performed by the Dousan. They were in charge of delegating daily spiritual tasks and acted as mentors. Being a well respected member of the xeric, they held a similar ranking to the second sandmasters and served on the sandmaster’s council.

Pilots: Important sand sailors who worked in and out of transit. They were in charge of controlling sand skiffs. They seemed to be specific to smaller xerics.

Navigators: Similarly as important as pilots although they were found in all xerics. They were readers of the skies and kept an eye on the constantly changing dunes. Some navigators were far-dreamers.

Crystal Skimmer Trainer: A role only found in larger xerics. An offset of normal pilots who directed and trained with Crystal Skimmers. It was said it took a great deal of bravery and fortitude to build strong bonds with Skimmers as they were headstrong but otherwise loyal. During bad storms, the Dousan would climb into a Crystal Skimmer’s mouth for safety. They would also use the insides of the beast’s gums to store supplies.

Sand Sailors: Also called Sand Mariners, these were ordinary ranked Dousan. Sand sailors was also synonymous for the entire xeric crew aside from the sandmaster.

Dousan Song and the Language of Silence

As with all gelfling clans, song was an important part of the Dousan’s culture. It was said that theirs were unequaled as it invoked the very song of Thra and knitted the realms of the living and the dead together. The Dousan believed they were carried to them by the winds of the Crystal Desert.

But the strangest thing about their songs was plenty of it were silent. Even outside of that, the Dousan rarely spoke with their mouths. Rather they used a form of sign language called vojeye and communicated with each other with quick articulated hand gestures. It benefited both the body and spirit. Speaking would take away too much moisture so not talking conserved it. The sign language granted them a greater spiritual connection, being undistracted and always listening, they were able to hear Thra. Even in environments like the Wellspring, the Dousan preferred communicating in vojeye.

They also sung in vojeye. When a songteller, an uncommon role in the clan, “sings” they did so in a flurry of hand gestures. It became a beautiful fluid dance where entire stanzas and verses were told without sound. Much like many things in their culture, their songs were highly protected. On the rare occasion a Dousan sung instruments weren’t always involved. The songteller would simply use their environment or own body to create sound, like tapping their fingers against their knee. The only other times Dousan sung out loud were at funerals and the chants and prayers heard within the Wellspring Cloister.

Day of the Dying Sun

The most sacred Dousan holiday was celebrated when the Dying Sun was visible in the sky. The Dousan would gather in threes, removed their head coverings, and performed what was called an empty dreamfast. It was a dreamfast with no memories or voice, instead a shared meditation in silence. It would last until the Dying Sun dipped below the horizon. The Dousan saw the Three Brothers as representations of life and death, with the Dying Sun represented as the journey to death. They believed that by empty dreamfasting they shared the journey of the Triple Sun’s dying incarnation, better preparing themselves for the day they too would make that journey.

Trial of the Daeydoim

The trial was inspired by a re-imagining of Raunip’s story, something that the Dousan deeply related to. A star that fell from the heavens was given a name by Aughra and believed it was a native of Thra until it learned the truth. In contemplation of everything it learned, it wandered the desert for all eternity to find its final resting place. From its footsteps sprouted the Daeydoim.

The challenge was performed only twice in a Dousan’s life: once as a youngling when they were preparing to leave the Wellspring and second as an elder when they retired from their xeric. They would go out into the desert with nothing but a red sheet of clothing, leave the Wellspring in the dead of night, and not return for three days. If they returned, they were rewarded with milk from the Wellspring Tree. If they were a younging, they were allowed to stand by the Maudra and council to be assigned their xeric and role. If they were an elder, they were granted their “Last Home”, a hut by the Wellspring and a seat at the elder’s council. It’s unknown what the Dousan do during the trial and not all return.

Dousan Funerals

While funerals performed by other clans were somber, the Dousan’s were livelier. These were one of the very few times instruments and verbal singing were performed. The deceased would be buried underneath the soil of the Wellspring Tree and their belongings be piled into a pyre. The Maudra lights it and the other Dousan would celebrate the life of the fallen through songs and dance. The members of the deceased’s xeric would sing about their favorite memories about the gelfling. What remained of the deceased’s belongings were scattered among the sands of the desert by wind, signaling a final farewell.

Incense

The incense made by the Dousan were highly sought out by the other clans and could be found all throughout Thra. Even the skeksis used their incense during their own ceremonies. Its aroma was described to be savory and heady and produced a blue smoke.

Incense making was reserved only for elders at the Wellspring. The incense took the form of palm-sized chips which were burned in torch wells under enchantment until their signature blue smoke filled the air. Traditionally, the incense was made from dried bark from aging parts of the Wellspring Tree. it was grinded into fine powder and compacted into bricks using sticky sap also found from the Great Tree. It was left out to dry in arid conditions where the fine dust dried rapidly and hardened which was then carved into chips.

The Wellspring and Oszah-Staba

The Wellspring was the hometown of the Dousan. It was an oasis found within a valley far up north of the Crystal Desert and nestled around the Claw Mountains. It looked like a dense jungle with amber red and gold trees and a large lake with the Great Tree towering over it. The Dousan’s communal hearth was located near the back end of the lake. Tents, canopies, and Last Homes resided near the lake’s edges many of which were temporary. Only elders and younglings who had yet to be assigned to a xeric lived there. Most other Dousan only arrived to trade, refill supplies, or had wounds tended to. Only times when all Dousan congregated at the Wellspring were for emergencies or certain celebrations.

The Oszah-Staba, or simply the Wellspring Tree, was the Dousan’s Great Tree. It was characterized as an upper canopy of enormously broad leaves that provided shelter to travelers and prevented storms from reaching the Wellspring. It also produced a white milk from its leaves when cut which had lightning repellent properties. Dousan would smear this liquid on their clothing and skiffs for protection.

In the J.M. Lee book series, the Wellspring Tree was barely a waterlogged tree trunk beneath the lake. All the Dousan believed it had died except Periss, who kept insisting it wasn’t. When Periss helped Naia and her group to the Wellspring, he had them assist him in reviving the tree. With the help of Amri, Naia’s healing, and (with convincing) the entire Dousan clan, Oszah-Staba was revived and sprouted back to its former self just in time to dissipate the incoming storm that would had otherwise destroyed the Wellspring.

The Wellspring Cloister

Walking down a promenade hidden under the sand lead to the Wellspring Cloister that lied within the crags of the Claw Mountain. It was a temple carved by the Dousan over hundreds of trine. The entire cliff face as well as its insides were etched with figures and pictographs. It was written record of the Dousan’s wisdom, which included illustrations of the passage of time and the clan’s history. Among its notable illustrations were of gelfling, storms, the Wellspring tree, and the mystics. Within the temple was a large effigy of the Crystal of Truth, which was the size of an average gelfling. The Dousan would come to the Cloister to pray and at least three would be found there at a time.

Relationships With Other Clans

Due to cultural differences, the Dousan rarely leaving the desert, and misunderstanding, other clans were highly suspicious and generally found the Dousan morbid and creepy. Many of the stereotypes revolving the clan were most likely perpetuated by the Skeksis, but these beliefs were held through the Gelfling Rebellion as well. The Dousan’s quietness and being highly protective of also created the assumption they were aloof and unfriendly. However, the Dousan never prioritized their traditions over connecting with outsiders. They just had an individualized connection with Thra that was sacred to them and them alone so they never felt they needed to explain it to others. They were otherwise friendly with other Gelfling.

That doesn’t mean they didn’t share the clan-first mentality. Taking a mate from another clan was seen as a capital offense. At least before they were taught by the mystics they treated gelfling who committed this crime more brutally, going as far as to hunt them down even when they left the desert.

The only true clan relationship the Dousan had with was the equally nomadic Sifa. On the rare occasions they left the Crystal Desert, they would go to Cera-Na and trade with them. It was noted that every time the Sifa’s mother ship, Omerya-Staba, were audibly amazed at the sight of it. They dedicated a song to the vessel titled “the Sifa Mother of Sa-Schala”.

Aside from Cera-Na, Dousan travelers were also spotted in Ha’rar’s port markets but these visits too were infrequent.

Legacy and Connection With the Firelings

The Dousan may be the only known surviving clan after the end of skeksis rule. A village within an unspecified forest was founded by Chal the Explorer, an exiled Dousan early into the Age of Division. While not clearly indicated, the inhabitants may have been descendants of the clan and practiced aspects of their culture although plenty seemed to have been lost. It’s unknown if this village was kept a secret during the Age of Division and gelfling lived there, it was the origin place of another clan, or the descendants found out about it and settled.

Other descendants of the Dousan were the firelings, or at the very least the first firelings, as Chal was the father of Cindrah. They remained untouched by skeksis influence and were able to flourish during the Age of Division. There seemed to be small evidence of some of Dousan culture as the firelings had a group system similar to xerics early on in their history.

Notable Dousan Members

Rek’yr: The charming and slightly rebellious sandmaster from the late Age of Division. He was the captain of the southern xeric and former guide for the Hunter. He helped the gelfling resistance by guiding the gelfling to the Circle of the Suns with his Crystal Skimmer Bennu.

Maudra Seethi, the Skin Painter: The Dousan Maudra during the late Age of Division. She took the legacy of funeral rites seriously and made it her duty to pass them on to the next generation. Her transcendental dream-etching were said to be glimpses into the afterlife.

Periss: Younger brother of Sandmaster Erimon. Because he had conflict with the Dousan ways, he ran away and became a thief who wandered around Cera-Na and Ha’rar stealing all the riches he could find.

Erimon: A well respected sandmaster who commanded over a smaller xeric. He constantly butted heads with his brother over their ideologies and always had to fix the messes he made.

Chal: A significant member of the Dousan who lived early on in the Age of Division. An explorer who was cast out by his clan for being eloped to a gelfling from another clan. He discovered Mithra and the future home of Kensho and was the father of the first fireling.

Kataal: A Dousan who lived early on in the Age of Division. He and his xeric chased Chal across Thra to punish him for committing heresy.

Maudra Io: A Dousan Maudra from an unknown time period within the Age of Division. Her Skimmer, named Urami, was famous for its lineage went back to the Skimmer of the first Dousan that entered the desert.

Kensho: A descendant of the Dousan born in the Age of Power. Once an acolyte who made himself an offering to save his clan, his destiny became intertwined with the fireling princess Thurma who got involved with the re-breaking and re-mending of the Crystal of Truth. Later he gained the power of absorbing the darkening and became the leader of the Gelfling Nation.

Kolba: Another descendant of the Dousan and mother of Kensho in the Age of Power. She resided in the village founded by Chal.

[Sources: Song of the Seven Gelfling Clans, The Dark Crystal Age of Resistance, Inside the Epic Return To Thra, Official Dark Crystal Website, Song of the Dark Crystal, Tides of the Dark Crystal, Heroes of the Resistance, Author Quest: The Gelfling Gathering, Power of the Dark Crystal, the Dark Crystal Bestiary]

#the dark crystal #dousan #gelfling #all about the seven clans #dark crystal #my posts #long post #this is over 3K words enjoy LMAO

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needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas · 4 years ago

Note

If you are up for some fluff... how about Sooga having an excuse to carry accident-prone Kohga around? I keep picturing Kohga slipping on a banana peel and spraining an ankle and Sooga being all “*GASP* MASTER KOHGA DON’T MOVE I’VE GOT YOU.” Plus who could resist hurt/comfort with drama queen Kohga??

You know it’s funny you mentioned that- EVERYTHING about Kohga gets him hurt. All of his attacks in aoc, his own attacks can be used against him- this dude gets a beat down on the daily. But there’s something SO funny about a fucking BANANA PEEL being the thing that worries Sooga. Let’s go.

“I really wish you’d be a bit more clean when you eat.”

“And I’d really wish you’d shut up.”

Kohga and Sooga had been invited to the Rito village, and were currently having dinner, made by none other than the Rito champion himself. Unfortunately for Kohga, the Rito LOVED fish, which only left Kohga with one choice; his beloved bananas. Which were currently being piled onto the floor right next to him. Sooga gave a small nod in forgiveness. Kohga could be quite charming, but not when he was by Revali.

“Apologies. We will clean up when we leave.”

“It’s the only thing keeping me from gagging. Dunno how you guys can sit there and eat fish like that. I only like ONE fish, and for some reason, she ain’t here.”

Zelda nodded, helping herself to a nice, hearty bowl of clam chowder.

“She said she was teaching the local children how to climb waterfalls this afternoon. She sends her condolences for missing your invitation, Revali. But you did send them rather unannounced.”

Revali shrugged, helping himself to his crab risotto.

“If she can’t make time to come to such an important event, that’s a her problem.”

Kohga rolled his eyes. He knew he was confident, but this guy was just plain annoying. It helped him NOT feel bad about all the peels he was leaving around. They spent moments making idle chit chat, and Kohga couldn’t help but notice Sooga’s plate was constantly getting smaller and smaller. Kohga could only complain about fish so much, especially when Sooga just seemed to love the stuff. Kohga could put up with the smell, and with the bird’s preening for a while, if only for him. Kohga got up after a while, about to fetch a drink for Urbosa (she was going to get it herself, but Kohga was a gentleman), when suddenly his feet gave way, and he fell to the floor. Sooga bolted out of his chair faster than lightning, quickly coming to his Master’s aid.

“Master Kohga! Are you alright?!”

“I’m f-”

Then he noticed Revali’s face. He was mad that he was no longer the center of attention. Kohga could play it off like nothing, or he could get all of hunky Sooga’s attention. What to choose, what to choose?

“Ow ow ow! I think I broke something!”

It was, in reality, probably just a sprain, but it hurt, and Kohga wanted lots and lots of attention. Sooga looked around, and determined that the pile of bananas, as well as the smear on the floor, was the culprit for the incident. Oh the irony. Sooga carefully held the foot that Kohga had been gripping.

“Master Kohga, I’m terribly sorry! Can you walk at all?”

“I’ll try…”

He made quite the sour face, and tried to stand up, only to feel a bit of pain. He wasn’t dying, but clearly he was gravely injured.

“Ow ow ow! Nope, can’t stand!”

Sooga’s heart swelled in sympathy for him, and he carefully picked him up bridal style in his arms. Kohga was so lucky to have a big, stupid boyfriend like him.

“I will take you back to the clan and nurse you back to health, Master Kohga. A thousand apologies for not keeping a closer eye on you.”

Revali cleared his throat.

“Ahem. I was SPEAKING. He’s fine, just put a pillow under it and let him wh-”

“Bite your tongue, bird.”

Sooga did NOT hold back on that firm tone, and Kohga was just wooed silly. He put the back of his hand to his forehead, acting faint. That was enough of a signal to get Sooga moving, making his way out the front door. He was about to dip, before Revali called out to them.

“You can’t just leave all this mess here! You said you were going to clean it up!”

“You can leave it for when Master Kohga recovers. Or you can clean it yourself. Your choice.”

Kohga lifted his mask up a bit, just to stick his tongue out at him, before Sooga poofed them right back home. Zelda sighed, holding a bit of an uncomfortable smile.

“I apologize, Revali. I’ll help you clean-LINK NO NOT OFF THE FLOOR!”

Link was more than willing to clean up the mess in the vacuum that was his stomach.

Revali realized; he was never inviting any of these assholes back into his home.

#asks #kohga #sooga #revali #listen #kohga WILL act like a drama queen for attention #but hes still hunky

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lampea-by-lamplight · 4 years ago

Text

okay so this isn't really an oc intro bc i'm not cruel enough to put all of them on one post

so this is kind of for ask games? so i can actually reblog them? for my two followers who are the same person? anyway @myreidola witness just how many characters and plots tsenpha has and realise that there will be many more

lobelia

junk and disorderly & associates

maeve shea: faerie, junk shop owner, knows more than she lets on

dio: tiripts (aka demon), stressed best friend, drinks too much milk

cande: spirit of deep water, likes freaking people out, maeve's kid

amanta segreti: half fae half elf, artist, lives in the woods (in a house)

noam de witte: half human half slegna (angel adjacent), runs a kid's home, co-parent with maeve (techically)

grant taggart: human(?), work with noam, highly uncomfortable with the idea of love

robbie lamar: human, ex-pirate (probably), obsessed with his hair

sarah desrosiers: human, ex-noble girl, an absolute dumbass

daichi mutō: half human half elf, tinkerer, has lightning magic

mission statement not as advertised

briony april: ex-spirit of healing, not paid enough for this, likes cake

alastair lykaios: human, expressionless and done, bad with feelings

dracul: lizard folk, will bite a table, tends to go with violence

orion griffin 1: human, original orion, cowardly and not ashamed

orion griffn 2: human, copy orion, impulsive and not ashamed

kyria ash: human, archalogist, holds a brain cell (it isn't the only one)

darius heidrich: human, king of lobelia, not as much of an asshole as he seems

assassins & shifters & mediums oh my

malyn chaise: human but death touched, dark sense of humour, likes books but also bows and arrows.

hemlock: human, assassin, only son of the king of lobelia

flannery: fox kin (selkie, but a fox), works in an entertainment troupe, main source of treason

galena holzmann: human, healer, also a dancer in flannery's troupe

spirit squad

astra: spirit of the stars, daughter of the spirit of magic, lives in a cave

august: spirit of the sun, got an ego problem, likes honey

aliena chaise: spirit of stories (eventually), day drinker, gets into trouble a lot

mael: spirit of madness, has goat horns, solves problems by creating other problems

cedar: spirit of healing, briony's twin brother, bad choices were made

caelestis/celeste: spirit of air, trickster, will sleep for a few thousand years out of boredom

pyrrhos: spirit of fire, plays instruments, absolutely terrible with words

kelda: spirit of water, anger issues, has multiple arms made of water

meallán: spirit of lightning, unrepentant wanderer, likes artistic displays

jade: spirit of earth, lives underground, views a lot of people as his children

florence: spirit of nature, somewhat bloodthirsty, doesn't like having his time wasted

sorcha: spirit of light, spouse of nisha, operates a theatre house

nisha: spirit of darkness, spouse of sorcha, fond of songbirds

vega: spirit of birds, holds an oracle-esque position, likes drama

attor: spirit of decay, chills in clearings a lot, vaguely snake-like

bernice chaise: human (ish), likes to tell stories, fond of things that go bump in the night

irides: spirit of the rainbow, likes to dance, almost never wears shoes

messis: spirit of the harvest, beastly in appearance, only soft for a very short list

luana: shark mermaid, princess, scholarly and diplomatic

joie richelieu: shapeshifter, water mage, down to fight whenever and wherever

rio: clown fish mermaid, no sense of style, defensive about it

zenith: shark merperson, very stylish, history buff

cenric: butterfly fish merman, king, luana's adopted dad

terran spencer: human, merlora village leader, cenric's lover

sin du shriek

pride: tiripts, put together at all times, the ringmaster of the sin squad show ig

lust: shapeshifter, the dancing queen of the sin squad show, has a thing with someone in a town they visit

wrath: half human half tiripts, smug little bastard, can't keep his mouth shut

sloth: possessed doll, throws knives when annoyed, is the cook and demands respect

gluttony: revenant, slow but in a "my processing speed is low" kinda way, mainly with sloth

greed: elf, chills in the background drinking something alcoholic, doesn't talk much

envy: bioluminescent merperson, mildly pissed at all times, does the special effects i guess

gladiola

convenient marriages of the royal kind

nicklaus aetos: human, high king of gladiola, seems stoic but is actually really soft

rhea dwerryhouse-aetos: human, high queen of gladiola, extremely chaotic

snakes and birds and repression

lian anguis: snake folk, schemey schemer who schemes, just wants money

ignus anatidae: half human half slegna, significantly less schemey, on the hunt for his brother

the vampiress detective

connor flynn

foxglove

odhran conroy

rosita misterio

biolutoxireautogem

rory

victerria

begonia

rise up & take the crown you forge

giselle delphine popławski/mint: human, displaced princess, lightning mage in a family of water mages

viper: elf, thief with eyes on a prize he won't reveal, probably has a joke for everything

nightshade: faerie, assassin who really wants to poison this one guy, can be sweet

gertrude fortier: human, leader of aforementioned rebellion, definitely aiming to get mint on the throne

silvester jeż: shifter, childhood friend, definitely going through some stuff at this point

a town named magebelle

anisette panettiera

mona cory

nari raconteur

thundra corcoran

astir

sweets & evidence boards

rojda kartal: elf, owns a bakery/cafe, definitely has secrets and definitely likes being mysterious

nihan kartal: elf, started the whole detective thing, mainly operates out of their sister's backroom

osiris lycan: vampire, subsists on a diet of coffee and sugar, not as aloof as he seems

róisín flores: human, wears pretty dresses, just wants to have a talk with whoever keeps cursing him

oscar bonheur: shapeshifter, has nature magic, no one can remember him arriving, just that he was always there (or was he...)

here's my fin & here's my hand

luana: shark mermaid, princess, scholarly and diplomatic

joie richelieu: shapeshifter, water mage, down to fight whenever and wherever

rio: clown fish mermaid, no sense of style, defensive about it

zenith: shark merperson, very stylish, history buff

cenric: butterfly fish merman, king, luana's adopted dad

terran spencer: human, merlora village leader, cenric's lover

it's about the journey

claude

sariel

vérène asteromne

on folk heroes and history

malra

okeanos

rodan

composa

amber

dianthus

courting blood

formeo

hitomi

harvest of light

eoforwine

olwen

hunting for something more

cerise verger

cian fehér

gemma steinmann

kayden rigel

ophelia hagan

sage corentine

of books and mist and blood that spits

forsaken

mistral

tamasa

the bride who carries death

candide brodeur

jerome

the princess ruse

dei

bos

faust

hallie

hyacintha

when heart, mind and soul become one

agrona einar

alexei

ezekiel

linden van der berg

armista

cyrus

seron van laren

editha du blair

phantoms of distant past

amor von østerberg

medeia voss

dáire

oriole van willigen

lilios

an adventuring party walks into a tavern

astrophel

darya grönvall

fitzgerald de fresel

floros

osian malley

tabi

for glory and for honour

anastasia highglory

sometimes a family is villains

alastor

corianne mary

karen

nisha 'eloise'

olindo

skipper

tangi

wisteria reverie

what once was missing, what once was found

imogen 'echo' laguardia

myostea

herbalism & other mysteries

eric hamr

iaso ylva

keir

revenant amore

annalise

gabriel

set a course

grace-anne

james

the cursed grudge

dax

gilda

the death of creation (and what came after)

galiora

under a blue moon

alix

clover howell

paeonia

a matter of opinion (blessings and curses)

barbara clacher

daphne caldwell

melia virág

mordecai

noir schuler

criminals on stage

dolos

heinrik

hinata

ludmila

mako

maya

nari

viola

love at first sight (and again)

lin

ume

veil van aalsburg

wing beats of fate

saitō kasumi

saitō kazuo

rosalius

donna

eislyn bellamy

orphne moreno

émile

prosper de león

vinnie

saguaro

from golden sands

matthias

morgan

nailah

thirteen

antares

australis

cauda

elnath

hamal

hydor

kaus

mali

meb

nashira

ros

spica

zosma

tulipa

contemplation amongst trees

islwyn

onyxre

how i met my cyborg

mith

soraya

victoria martin

of machinery and mischief

hawthorn

sorrell

tally cogsmith

ordeals at the sand bar

cordelia

lir

ophelia 'lia' douglas

these days (our crystal souls)

darkness

light

despair

diamanté

linnie

madame x

zafiro

alma

callahan

moirai

avila

boann

fenrir

gulielma

henrietta

pamphilos

pandora

sonia

blythe wyse

calum garcía

coralie lavoie

lucas hollingsworth

luella lafleur

luka casper sinclair

rainer merrick

wren gardner

urtica

the kingmaker

beatrix von schwarzenberg

#way too many ocs tag #that should be a thing #it is now #anyway thanks elle #can i call you elle #for the idea #probably a post that'll get updated #bc i keep adding characters and regret very little #except when i'm looking at my notes and don't know wtf i was talking abt #this has taken forever i have vague regrets

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