#like body painting as a sign of luxury or nobility in the case of the royal line

[wings-of-dc]

first up, sandwings!

sandwings are built to be lightweight and efficient desert hunters. they are a unique tribe in that they have no third set of limbs / wings, which enables them to run quickly and cover long distances. another unique sandwing feature is their large scorpion tail, which contains a deadly venom that can kill a full-grown dragon within hours. this tail is made of a chitin-like material, and is given limited flexibility by many small joints that allow the tail to furl and unfurl.

because the desert is fairly inhospitable to other tribes, sandwings have had little inter-tribal competition for land. out of all tribes, sandwings have the most territory and are the most spread-out. however, rather than forming one large kingdom, sandwing society is structured more like an interconnected web of factions and clans.

the sandwing monarchy is a relatively recent political development. before the war of sandwing succession, it acted solely as a representative on the stage of inter-tribal politics and was not recognized as a central authority by many of the scattered sandwing clans.

in more recent times, many of the old clans have been dissolved and subsumed by the kingdom of sand. the political status of remaining clans exists ambiguously, as some are considered tribe traitors while others are considered to be citizens of the kingdom of sand.

because of this change, there are those who suspect that the war of sandwing succession was started in part to unite sandwings under one banner: that of the royal line.

[darksunrising]

Sola Gratia (2/?)

Masterlist

Rating / Warnings : General Audiences, no warning.

Fandom : Bram Stoker’s Dracula, BBC’s Dracula, various Dracula and vampire lore.

Part 2/? (2452 words)

Author’s notes : Here’s part two ! I also updated part one to be a bit better, don’t hesitate to check it out ! (taglist at the end !)

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“I always thought it was a disputable likeness.”

“JE-sus FUCK-”, I spat out as I turned over, stumbling back from shock. How in the hell- I didn’t even hear a goddamn thing, which was concerning given how close he was standing behind me. An eyebrow elegantly arched at my profanity, he seemed to study my figure. I was suddenly very aware of how absolutely dreadful I probably looked.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think- I didn’t mean to break in- The door-”, I stammered, somehow unable to find any decent words.

A twinkle of amusement brightened his dark eyes, and he didn’t do me the mercy of saying anything to put me out of my misery. I took a deep breath, and awkwardly held out my hand for him to shake.

“I am Eris Cetero. I got caught in the storm, and saw light. I didn’t know where else to go. I would be eternally grateful for your hospitality, sir.”

A bit dazed that I was able to align so many coherent words, I didn’t even have the time to react when the man gently took my hand in his, and planted a light kiss on my knucles.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Doamna Cetero. I am Count Vlad Balaur, and welcome you into my home.”

I managed to thank him, by God knows what miracle. From the moment our eyes met, he had not moved his gaze, nor did I see him blink, now that I thought about it. A shiver ran down my spine, making me shudder.

“My, you must be freezing. Come, sit by the fire. Do you have anything dry to wear ?”

I shook my head as he led me to one of the sofas facing the hearth, a hand barely hovering over my back.

“My bag is in a sorrier state than I am”, I sheepishly admitted.

“Well, I might be able to find something for you”, he told me with a gentle smile.

“I couldn’t, really, I don’t want to impose-”, I started, but he dismissed my protest with a flick of the hand.

“Nonsense, I will have no one die of pneumonia in this house. Wait for me here, I will soon be back.”

He left the room in long paces, and I followed his tall silhouette as it disappeared into the halls. Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t that. He did look somewhat close to the portrait, however. I looked up to study it further. The figure was certainly recognizable, tall, some form of nobility in the posture. He was a Count, after all. His hair was neatly laid in elegant black waves across his broad shoulders, so dark it was almost lost to the background. He was obviously younger in the portrait, but still carried as much poise as he did then.

The crackling of the fire almost covered the sound of the rain. A log broke in half in a flurry of embers. The flames licked at the charred wood, and I started to follow their ethereal dance in the darkness. Hugging my knees closer to my chest, I wondered if I shouldn’t drip somewhere else than the Count’s expensive-looking antique sofa. Found myself unable to move, anyway.

My curious host stepped back into the room, dragging me from my drowsiness. He had a pile of neatly folded clothes in hand, and what I assumed was a towel. He was still smiling, which, for some reason, made me a bit uneasy. I shook off the feeling. I mean, he was just an old eccentric man. A little weird at times, but who isn’t?

“I’m afraid you might find the style a bit dated, however, it’s warm and dry, which is what we are looking for, aren’t we?”

He laid the pile next to me, and took his leave, respectfully closing the door behind him. Unsure about what I should do, I still took a look at what he brought. The fabrics were soft, and felt luxurious. Dated indeed. A long wool skirt I just could have worn as a poncho, a thin linen shirt closed by a series of pearl buttons, and a jacket, matching the skirt both in style and warmth. after a sigh, I decided to peel my own clothing off my body. Cold water ran down my back as I slipped my shirt over my shoulders. I decided to keep my underwear, for legitimate and obvious reasons, and put on the outfit the count prepared for me. He even had thrown in a pair of socks and boots, which, curiously, were exactly my size. As I stood up and patted down the skirt, I caught my reflection in a window. There, I was ready to leave for the suffragette rally, whilst my husband slaves away at the vintage car factory. I spun around, and the skirt flared in a very satisfactory manner.

“Are you dressed ? May I come in ?”

The sudden knock on the door nearly made me lose my footing. I caught myself on the back of the sofa, and approved the request. The Count entered, pushing the door with his foot as the carried a wodden tray, holding a steaming kettle and delicate cups. He laid it on a small side table, and turned back towards me, clasping his hands together.

“Aren’t you feeling a tad better now ?”

“Much better, thank you. If I may ask, out of curiosity, where does this dress come from? It’s not very often people have that sort of clothing at home.”

“Well”, he started as he poured tea into a cup. “It is a family home, and I must admit I do not know everyone who ever lived here. It may have been my grandmother’s, or her mother’s.”

He invited me to sit, and handed me a cup, which I accepted gladly. It had a subtle, comforting cinnamon aroma The warmth of the cup was doing wonders for my almost purple hands, slowly regaining a human-like color.

“Eris…”, the Count enunciated, slightly rolling the ‘r’, almost to himself. “What an unusual name. You must have terribly interesting parents.”

“Oh, far worse. Historians”, I scoffed.

“Greek, dare I venture ?”

“Yes. They’re kind fo the reason I am here right now, in a way.”

“Please, indulge an old man.”

He seemed genuinely interested. I guess living in a mountain surrounded by huge “KEEP OUT” signs was bound to make anyone feel starved for any distraction. It was a bit of a challenge not sounding demented as I told him about my family. Strict, absent parents, very demanding concerning school work, insisting on me keeping up with their research. As they were interested in the Classical Greek world, I shifted my interest to the Balkans, which was shocking enough, and became almost disowning when I started a masters in medieval studies. I became a bit estranged to them after that terrible offense.

“Do you still study that field ?”

“Well”, I sighed. “I should hope so. I’m in my second year of doctorate on ‘Archaeological evidence for the conflictual relationships of Balkanic regions and the Ottoman Empire during the 15th century AD’.”

It had him laughing softly.

“That sound like quite some work”, he commented, a strange glimmer in his eye.

“It is. That’s why I had to take a break, coming here. I told myself I’d take advantage of it and work, maybe visit Targoviste. Turns out, I’d rather risk death by the mighty elements than do that.”

I tried to smile, but the weight in my chest started to come back. It lifted while I was running high on adrenaline, trying to escape my doom during the storm, but now that I was out of danger, it sure as hell was back. The Count had a strange look on his face, almost as he was trying to read my mind through my eyes.

“I’m sorry, I just-”

“You must be tired, after such an eventful day”, he softly told me. “Let’s prepare a guest room, shall we?”

He was right, by all accounts. I took a deep breath, and handed him my empty cup as he held out his hand for it. His fingers brushed against mine, just a second, yet long enough that it didn’t feel unintentional. He did nothing of it, and placed the cups back on the tray, before escorting me into the halls. As we left, he took hold of a small candelabra and had it lit over the fire.

We made our way through the lenghthy corridors, and I started undertanding just how huge the place was. Confusing. Labyrinthic, almost. I wondered how I would ever find my way without breadcrumbs, or a trusty ball of yarn. I started taking mental notes of some reference points. A weird cat in a painting here, a knight fighting a giant snail in the corner of a tapestry there, that sort of thing.

“Are you also interested in art, Lady Cetero ?”, the Count asked, semingly noticing my interest.

“A little. I’m afraid I connect better with pieces of armor and war apparatus in general, though. A bit of an influence from my thesis, I think”, I admitted.

“Ah, in this case, I have something I am fairly certain you will enjoy”, he announced, before taking a right into another corridor.

We passed a few doors, and stopped in front of a slightly larger one. He slipped a large iron ring out of his jacket’s pocket, holding dozens of different keys, some oranate, some rougher. Without much hesitation, which was impressive considering the sheer ammount of choice he had, he unlocked the door, and pushed it open, gallantly leaving me to enter.

The room was dark, yest I discerned a faint glimmer across the walls. As the Count stepped in, and lit torches on the walls, I almost couldn’t contain a squeal of excitement. On the wall opposite the door, a suit of armor was displayed on a mannequin. Intricately worked in gilted vegetal arabesque, the darkened iron still suffered indents and scrapes, and the golden sheen had flaked in some places. I ventured that whoever had worn this had very little understanding of the crime it was to ever put such incredible crafstmanship at risk on the battlefield. It was very reminiscent of the kind of battle gear I had studied in my first year, but I never saw a complete one, least of all in such an incredible state of conservation. The suit was surrounded by weapons of the same make, still bright and shiny, the incrustations of stones and pearls seeming almost alive in the flickering light of the flames. The other walls were all covered in an almost artistic display of a large variety of other weapons, which it seemed spanned across centuries and all the surrounding regions of the Balkans.

“This is...Absolutely incredible”, I managed to breathe out. “How did you come to have such a collection ? Even the museum in Bucharest doesn’t compete !”

“I am very interested in history, you see. Some of the pieces here were there before I was born”, he told me, stepping closer to the central figure of the room. “This armor has been in my family for generations.”

He looked somewhat nostalgic, eyes drifting along the glistening metal. He stood tall, and I couldn’t help but picture him in it, his silver hair back to the dark waves of his youth, sword in hand, covered in blood and dust, leading his men into battle against roaring, bloodthirsty waves of ennemies.

“I would love to take a better look at them tomorrow, if you don’t mind”, I asked, trying not to look so eager as I felt.

“It would be my pleasure, however, I will have to take most of the day to attend some... Urgent matters.”

I nodded along, and we left the room, me with a last longing look as the Count extinguished the torches, and locked the door. He then led me along a stone staircase, set in what I assumed to ba a small tower, as I glanced outside through the narrow windows. On the second story, the floors was made of dark wood, which looked a bit dull. I figured if he lived alone, he didn’t have much time to varnish the whole castle. As we walked, the boards creaked in a sinister way, that reverberated through the halls. I couldn’t help but shudder, and though I head a soft laughter from the Count, walking ahead of me.

He stopped to open a door, and entered before I did. It was a fairly large room, with a high ceiling, supported by large wodden beams. An iron chandelier hanged at Mid-height, which was still half a dozen feet above my head. A large fireplace was carved into the wall, which my host had somehow lit as I studied the rest of the room. Behind wooden pannels, a large canopy bed was set near one of the three windows that pierced the wall, opening to a view of the wind-swept valley.

The Count carefully removed the large bedspread, which had probably been collecting dust for a while, revealing divinely comfortable-looking covers and fluffy pillows. To be fair, I was so exhausted I would have slept on the floor with no second thought, had that been necessary.

“Make yourself at home. You will probably find something to change in the wardrobe, if you want. I will leave you this for tomorrow, should you wish to explore”, he told me as pulled the key-ring out of his pocket, and laid it on a large desk. “Have a restful night, Lady Cetero.”

Bowing his head slightly, he exited the room, leaving me alone if it weren’t for the presence still lingering inside. I figured there was a slight possibility that I really were deep into hypothermia, and hallucinating, or, more likely yet, that he was a ghost. I slipped into a nightgown, still feeling a bit like a gothic novel heroine. I wondered a second how I could ever find sleep with all the wonder, excitement and slight feeling of dread that filled my mind. However, as soon as I let the heavy blankets over me, sinking into the matress, everything went quiet, the faint sound of the rain and rumbling thunder slowly lulling me to sleep.

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Taglist : @carydorse @angelicdestieldemon @bloodhon3yx @thewondernanazombie @battocar @moony691 @mjlock

Don’t hesitate to ask if you wanna be tagged !

[incomplete-nano-stash]

Welcome to Technasia Ch 4

              “Well, that was interesting,” Firnian muttered as the procession made its way through the border checkpoint. She knocked on the front window of the car. “How long until we get there?”

              The driver lowered the glass between himself and his passengers, looking in. “From here it’s about four hours. Better settle in, we’ll be a while.”

              Firnian grumbled. Now she regretted asking to go to the memorial. She nodded and went back over to her seat as the glass went back up. “Four hours, and after we lost so much time at that damn checkpoint.”

              Thaylen re-wrapped a cloak around Firnian’s shoulders. “Just relax, my heart. The sun’s coming up. Let’s take a look at the scenery.”

              Firnian nodded, turning her attention out her window. The scenery passed by at a moderate pace, along the remnants of the old roads, those that dated to before the worldwide schism. It was a wonder that anything had survived that dark time, but they rode along on one of those remnants, in one of those remnants, and enjoyed its luxury while they could, for none of it would be present, they knew, once they reached the Technasian capital.

              Firnian snuggled closer to Thaylen. “Are you bruising?”

              Thaylen chuckled. “A little bit. We never got our chance to check.”

              “Maybe I should now.” Firnian smiled slyly. Looking behind her, making sure the driver was not paying attention, she threw her cloak over Thaylen and smuggled herself underneath. Thaylen’s eyes closed as he felt the woman ministering to him, an unbelievable rush of pleasure coming as he felt her delicate fingers unwrap the linens from his chest, allowing him to breathe unrestricted. Her mouth found gentle secrets on his body, and treated them with the utmost care.

              The scenery outside started shifting, as the sun continued its upward trajectory in the sky. Rolling fields and forests gave way to residences, small villages dotted with remnant buildings, ancient spaces that no longer held people. Signage long faded showed their purposes, though the signs themselves were unreadable now; merely scribbles and scratches of ancient writing.

              Thaylen and Firnian had no consciousness of this, however. Thaylen by this time had joined his lover underneath the cloak in their intimate embrace. Their fingers explored each other fervently, flesh touching flesh in the most passionate of ways. Every so often, Firnian’s hands, or fingers, or tongue would pass over the fresh injury, making Thaylen whimper; she responded to his pain with further love and attention.

              At long last, both of them emerged from the cloak, poking their heads out in case anyone watched from the outside. Firnian straightened her hair, trying to hide their activities in the car. A knock came on the window.

              “Your Highness?” The royal guard riding alongside the car leaned in. Thaylen’s hair was disheveled and the cloak completely covered him.

              “Yes, what is it?”

              The guard cleared his throat. “Your Highness, we have arrived at the capital. We will be pulling up to the Central Palace in ten minutes.”

              Thaylen nodded. “Very good. Send an advance party ahead to announce our arrival.”

              “Very good, Your Highness.” The guard moved away from the car window to fulfill his orders. Firnian quickly closed the window and turned back to Thaylen, who sat upright, shirtless.

              “Time to attend to our duties, I’m afraid,” Thaylen sighed. “Would you mind?”

              Firnian shook her head. “It’s just not right. Why torture yourself like this? Why do you try to appease your father? Why fool your family?”

              Thaylen narrowed his eyes at his lover. “How far am I going to get being Princess Thaylen? Especially around my alpha male father? Not very, I tell you.” He raised his arms over his head. “Wrap me up, damn it.”

              Firnian grabbed the linen wrap and pressed one end rightly to Thaylen’s right breast. She could not resist temptation and gave it a quick squeeze before beginning the process of wrapping the sheet around the prince. “It’s just not fair, that’s all. You should be allowed to be yourself. You shouldn’t have to put yourself through this every day.”

              Thaylen smiled. “But I am being myself, this is who I am. Not only that, I’m yours as well. I think I’m happy with my life as it is, and … well, if I have to corset up my lungs to have this life, then I guess that’s what I have to do to keep you in it.”

              Firnian looked up at the prince with glistening eyes. “This will kill you, though. You beautiful, goddamned fool.”

              Thaylen stole a brief kiss as the linen wrap made its final pass around his chest, now restricting his breathing and changing his voice. “But I’m eternally your beautiful goddamned fool.”

              Firnian sighed and smiled, even as a tear fell. “You know I’m a sucker for this shit.” She gave him a long, loving kiss as she picked up his shirt.

                The car arrived at the outer wall of the Central Palace, pulling up quietly. The gilded gates opened, revealing a carriage on the other side, and a Technasian royal guard to greet the Litigian party. The driver came around to the side of the car, opening the door. Prince Thaylen was the first to emerge, followed by Lord Moethran.

              The royal guard took a knee before the two Litigian nobles. “Your Highness, my Lord, welcome to Technasia. We have prepared a coach for you to take you to the Central Palace hall.”

              Prince Thaylen nodded. “Thank you, friend.” He motioned for the guard to rise, then took Lord Moethran’s hand and assisted her into the coach. The trip was brief, but nerve wracking all the same.

              Firnian looked out of her side of the coach nervously. “Never been here. I’ve heard so many stories, horror stories from my father.”

              Thaylen raised his eyebrow. “What kind?”

              “Oh, he told me about terrible crimes performed against men here, castration rooms and male mass executions, how the women here are too manly and dominate people.”

              “Had he come and seen all of that?”               Firnian scoffed and laughed. “Are you kidding? He was afraid to leave his own fucking house! No, he kept regurgitating everything people told him, all the propaganda your father approved, every little conspiracy theory he bought into full-bore and recited like it was gospel.” She rubbed her temple gently. “No, part of the reason I volunteered for this was to prove to myself that he was full of crap.”

              Thaylen nodded. “Well, you’re going to get your chance.” He motioned ahead, to the main door of the Central Palace. A group of five women, all dressed in regal mourning garb, stood awaiting their arrival. The coach pulled up to the steps, and the driver opened the door to allow his passengers to exit.

              The lead woman of the group, a tall, imposingly elegant figure whose face showed a hardness unfamiliar to the Litigian contingent, smiled at the delegates, focusing her attention primarily at Thaylen. “Your Highness, I welcome you to our nation of Technasia.”

              Thaylen stepped forward and bowed cordially. “Your Majesty, Queen Guerrania, I presume?”

              Queen Guerrania chuckled. “You presume correctly, young man.” Her attention turned to the woman slightly behind Thaylen, who also bowed. “And you must be Lord Moethran.”

              Firnian looked up at the Queen. “That is correct, Your Majesty.”

              Queen Guerrania motioned for the two to stand upright once more. “Come, come, let us retire inside. We have refreshments inside, as I’m sure your journey has been long.”

              Thaylen nodded. “Indeed.” He walked up to the line of Princesses, bowing before each one as they were introduced to him. Firnian did the same, then caught up with the Prince and the Queen.

              “It was our understanding that there was a fifth Princess?” Firnian hated being so direct, but she knew she was being watched for her simpleton of a King.

              “That’s true, Lord Moethran. You will meet her after the memorial, as we have scheduled her coronation immediately afterward.” Queen Guerrania gave a contented face to the Litigian contingent. “I certainly hope that our hospitality rises to the level of Litigian nobility.”

              Both Thaylen and Firnian took their time following the Queen to marvel at the atmosphere of the Central Palace. Gilded sculpture lined every supporting beam of the architecture, as did paintings from both before and after the worldwide schism. Firnian could not help but put her hand to her mouth in amazement.

              “So much … so beautiful …”

              Queen Guerrania looked behind her, bemusedly. “Enjoying yourself, Lord Moethran?”

              Firnian blushed slightly. Thaylen responded on her behalf. “Forgive us, Your Majesty, we haven’t seen such artistic glory before.”

              Queen Guerrania chuckled. “You two must not get out too often.” She led the two diplomats into an antechamber with a long table, adorned from one end to the other with numerous fruits, meats, cheeses, and breads. “Come, help yourselves. The memorial will be starting in an hour.”

              Thaylen bowed to the Queen. “Thank you, Your Majesty, for your kind hospitality.” He walked into the room with Firnian, approaching the table and eagerly taking two rolls and a peach from the offerings on the table. Firnian took a piece of cheese from a nearby plate. Queen Guerrania nodded to the two of them before leaving the room.

              Thaylen and Firnian settled down on a bench on the opposite wall from the door. “Well? Is this the torture chamber your father described?”

              Firnian nearly choked on the cheese she had been eating with her sudden laugh. “Are you kidding? Not even close, I knew dad was full of it.”

              Thaylen nodded. “I hear you. I wish mine would listen to reason more often. I’m really surprised that he allowed this trip to go forward.”

              Firnian shrugged. “It took a bit of shoving it down his throat, but we got our way eventually. He can be persuaded sometimes, although it takes a show of aggression to do it usually.” She pulled out a hand slate and started tapping on it.

              “What’s that for?” Thaylen raised an eyebrow and slid closer to Firnian on the bench.

              “My first report to the King. Usual stuff, we made it here, met Queen Guerrania, your propagandist has his head up his ass.” Thaylen blanched, making Firnian look up and take his hand. “I’m kidding, Thaylen, I’m not really going to tell him that.” She sighed. “But I can for damn sure think it.”

              Thaylen laughed, and reached for another roll off of the table. Firnian continued to write her missive, finally finishing it and sending it as the prince reached for another peach. The two of them remained in peaceful silence, the only sound being their chewing, until a knock came on the antechamber door.

              Thaylen and Firnian both stood up as a different Royal Corps member came into the room, an imposingly muscular woman. “Your Highness, Lord Moethran, the memorial will be starting momentarily. Please come with me.”