#literally he would've stayed until they burned out and died young

[nicollekidman]

she literally saved both their lives here because he was too in love with her to ever go on his own. their first love song and her being the one to let him go is what made sure they’d be together in the end

[slotumn]

Some notes on how I personally like to write the lords + Rhea+ Shezleth wrt sacrifices and deaths and moral dilemmas they face when they make decisions

Basically,

Edelgard: People will die because of my decisions, but it must be done in order to bring change and ensure more don’t die in the future under an unjust system

Rhea: People will die because of my decisions, but it must be done in order to maintain stability and ensure more don’t die in the future under chaos and turmoil

Dimitri: People have died because of me and my decisions, I know it’s unforgivable no matter what and I will atone for it by avenging them (feral mode)/saving as much as or more than I have killed (post-feral clarity)

Claude: People have died because of me and my decisions, but that was the best I could do in my situation, and as long as I/we stay alive thanks to that I/we still have a chance to turn things around for the better

Byleth: People dying is people dying and nobody knows if any of your decisions will be “justified” until it plays out. I’ll help you get the results that will hopefully “justify” your decisions because I love and support you, but honestly, all that shit you're saying is just cope

Shez: Cool cool, where’s my fucking money

As you can tell the main foils/contrasts I like are Rhea <–> Edelgard, Dimitri <–> Claude, and Shez+Byleth. More rambling about it under the cut

For Rhea and Edelgard, I like to focus on them being similar people at different points of life/the project they’ve dedicated their lives to. I’m sure people have already made the analysis about parallels between them, from losing their families/conquering the continent/etc etc but basically, they have very similar philosophies/attitudes/outlooks, and the difference is whether the current system and dominant ideology is what they like or not.

I think that a young Seiros, fleeing a genocide and recruiting allies in the south, would have had faced similar objections Edelgard did; Nemesis may not be the most benevolent ruler, yes, and we don’t literally believe everything his regime preaches, but at least things are manageable and stable if we play along, especially down here in the south. Do we really need to risk everything we have to go up and fight him? Your ideas hold appeal, but some of us don’t find it appealing enough to die for it.

And similarly, I think Edelgard, if she grew old enough to see her system really take root in society, would say a lot of the same things that Rhea would've liked to say, when younger generations complain; look, what we have isn’t perfect, but you really don’t want to see what it was like before, and the fact you can have these complaints at all are a testament to the system I’ve made working. And if you try to burn all this down out of youthful passion, it’s more likely that we will regress instead of progress.

For Dimitri and Claude, it’s about how they deal with guilt; on a personal level, specifically. Politically I think they’d take or dodge responsibility as is necessary lol

Dimitri is straightforward, almost too straightforward. Not great at coming up with excuses, or rather, excusing himself. His way of facing the guilt is very one on one; taking blood for blood, while he's feral. Saving life for life taken, post-feral clarity. And even then, deep down he feels like ("knows") it's will never be enough. And he takes on all that guilt head on even in places where it's not his fault, a.k.a. survivor's guilt.

Claude, meanwhile, dude is a mental gymnastic gold medalist (affectionate). It's not that he doesn't feel guilt, but I think he's very good at seemingly minimizing it, excusing it, and convincing himself that he's better off focusing on other things. As for survivor's guilt, I'm not saying Claude wouldn't ever feel it, but he'd focus on the fact he survived, rather than the guilt.

Finally, Byleth and Shez. Honestly I think they have pretty similar outlooks, it's just a matter of how they explain it lol. The role I like to give these two is reality checkers; because the lords and Rhea can have their debates about Ideology™ and The System™ and Morality™ and Responsibility™ of it all they'd like, but in the end, it's people like Shez and Byleth doing the dirty work and dying on the field for the decisions.

And when people die, the physical, material reality is that they're fucking dead. Attach causes and justifications and obligations and excuses to their corpses as you want, but at the end of the day, it is a corpse and the person is dead. That's the reality they've always lived in, and not just as a one-off incident, either; the thing they do for survival is fighting and killing. They have a "It Is What It Is" type of attitude as a baseline, because, well... it is. Doesn't mean they don't feel things about it. Doesn't mean they don't want to save people where they can. Nonetheless— they know all too well that what happens is what happens.

For this reason, I like to think that grand moralistic judgements are not their thing, no matter the route; they don't even think the lord they sided with is fundamentally more correct/better. Like, come on, when they were asked to choose a house upon arriving at Garreg Mach, they probably weren't weighing their options based on who'd be the most "objectively" "morally" correct if a war broke out between the three (+the Church).

That being said, I think they definitely have a sense of what's good. But it's not the philosophical/abstract type of good you might hear the other four get into debates about. Shez and Byleth's idea of good is, in many ways, very small and inconsequential— but grander concepts of morality can't exist without it. And I like to think that the reason why Shez and Byleth become so important to the side they picked isn't just because of their powers, but also because the constantly they remind others of those small good things.

"Good" to Shez and Byleth is having enough to eat; having warm clothes and bed to sleep in and a roof over their heads; spending time with the people they care about and seeing them safe. It's quite animalistic, in a way; interesting, considering that Agarthans belittle their enemies by calling them beasts.

But I don't think those two would be particularly affected by being called animals for that reason. "These beasts are happy— what about you?"

[lazarettta]

Misthios

Characters (Reader x Mother Miranda...?) 👀

Rating (T)

Word Count (2.8k)

Warnings (none, first half is has no dialogue, writing while high,)

Once her little warrior, always her little warrior.

I'm sorry if it's hot 🗑💀

The fire was finally the way you wanted it and you could finally fucking rest. You'd been hiking all goddamn day through the rain and snow, and you just wanted a minute to rest and to eat. The sun was starting to set and you still needed to set up your tent, but for the moment you were content to just sit on the log and get warm.

“Who'd ever think a Spartan would be in Rome looking for answers, hm?” it was ironic, how you would've been accused of being a traitor or something like that back then. Ha...back then?

Truthfully you weren't sure anymore where your life really started it's been so long, centuries really if you were being honest. Sometimes even your own secrets were too overwhelming for you to admit, and as the years continued to pass you by it was getting harder and harder for you to hold onto the same principles you once believed in. The wars you've participated in, two of them by choice...and as a favor for the third.

It shouldn't have been possible but it was for you, it was both a blessing and a curse because you were nothing special...you grew up with Spartan blood running through your veins, pushed at a young age to hunt and to protect, it was a common tradition for families then, especially for the oldest or only children. Your didn't ever recall your father, he died in battle before you were born but your mother was there, always. Even if her face was blurry after all of the time that has passed you by—you still remember her teachings and her technique. Your mother was the best hunter in Sparta, proudly.

But after...after her passing, the streets taught you how to be a mercenary at a young age...and then an assassin, not by choice but by necessity because you weren't a good person then, not really, and you still weren't now...but you still had the will do what was right, and so you did.

And maybe that is why the Gods did not let you die in the battlefield when you'd been caught off guard, for what is no longer relevant as it is now long gone, but the scar left through your heart would forever stain you inside and out by some random Greek bastard. You don't remember much of the dying part as much as you remembered how badly it hurt and how livid you were watching him stand over you with his bloody sword raised to the heavens. But just like your pain, that emotion was ebbed away as you laid there dying.

And die you did. And your body laid there for who knows how long but when you woke up, oh you sprung up ready to fight but there wasn't a fight left to be had...the war was over...but you didn't know that until you woke up the second time. Not realizing that your body was next to be burned in the ditch as the battlefield was being cleared of all the corpses from both sides. A gruesome chore performed by the prisoners taken by Sparta.

You had no idea why the Gods healed you and brought you back from the dead, you didn't deserve a second chance (at the time you didn't realize that it was a power). You were blessed by the Gods and that's all that it was, people looked at you with both awe and envy. Some gave all of their iron and dearest family possessions as a gift to the Gods in hopes that their wishes were granted. They hated you and you did not care. You were unstoppable, everyone wanted your attention and your skills—it made you arrogant and stupid for years. And when you caught a pretty nasty gash across your back from a werewolf that ambushed you and your horse, your leathers had been torn and bloody by the time you speared your way through four of those beasts. But while there was blood, there was no wound...the only evidence were the scars it left behind.

Snap!

You turned your head slightly, a few strands of your hair falling in front of your ever sharp (y/e/c) eyes. You stayed perfectly still, eyes scanning the forest surrounding you but there was nothing after several moments. Just as well...with a loud sigh, you finally got up to put up your tent for the night and probably for the next few nights too. You slipped your hunting knife back into your boot but kept it unhooked just in case.

You lived in a time where guns existed but you were always better with a blade. You may not be an active misthios now (mercenary in today's world) but old habits were hard to kick. You were too old and too wise now, even if you didn't look a day over twenty-eight.

The next morning...

You woke with a start your grip around your obsidian hunting knife so tight your knuckles your skin strained against bone. You didn't have a dream but something woke you up, and it wasn't those damn birds chirping literally above your tint. With the help of the morning sun you could even see the spot where one of them pooped. Great. You laid there for a few more minutes, finally relaxed enough to move. You checked your surroundings again, walking around your camp but that feeling of unease didn't go away but it wasn't as strong.

Today was clearer than it was the day before though you still had to deal with the snow and the cold, not that either really bothered you too much. Leaving your camp behind, marking the trees so that you had a way to find your way back through these unfamiliar woods, you set off to find breakfast. You came to an edge, a cliff's peak and you went to stand on the edge of it—to maybe see the rest of the mountain you were exploring but something caught your immediate attention.

When was the last time you ever saw a castle? Not...not those tourist marks they have all over Europe but a castle. The place was eerie but most castles always felt that way to you...but this was different? It was as if the castle was looking right back at you, mocking you. From your vantage point you could make out the edges of a lake through the thick trees, you couldn't see it very well but you could tell it wasn't small nor was it man-made.

It was a pleasant surprise to discover this as you assumed that your trip would mostly be you exploring this cold ass mountain without a proper guide but you didn't need anyone to know why you were really up here, your reasons concerned no one but yourself. That and you knew you'd end up leading your guide. You were better off alone. Or at least that's what you kept telling yourself that but those words stopped being comforting a very long time ago. Not like fate was giving you much of a fucking choice though.

Your stomach growled, reminding you of your hunt...you glanced down at the village below the castle curiously before turning away from the ledge, the heavy aura of the castle still on your back.

~~

Fat and full, that's exactly how you'd describe yourself at the moment. There were more predators in the area than there were prey it seemed but the rabbit you caught seemed plentiful enough. With winter kicking in, the most worrisome predator in the woods would be hibernating leaving nothing but the wolves and maybe a mountain lion for you to deal with if you're lucky. You hefted your smaller backpack onto your back and left your camp, deciding to check out the village to see if you could learn more about the castle.

You were both excited and curious, you'd spent a majority of your modern life exploring the wonders of the Earth and using the currency you've collected throughout your lifetimes to fund whatever myth caught your eye. In other words, you were bored but the thought of war and fighting no longer made your blood sing or your heart race. You've done so much of that already, and lost so much because of it.

“Get back! Get back! Agh—GET THE FUCK BACK!”

Your legs stopped moving immediately and your gloved hand was already wrapped around the hilt of your hunting knife, ears trained. You heard growling and barking not too far from where you stood, maybe two or three hundred feet to your right just through those bushes and that fallen tree. It sounded as if someone was having a bit of trouble with a pack of wolves. Which struck you as odd, you were still pretty high up on the mountains and you hadn't seen anyone else up here in a week, so it couldn't have been a local...could it?

The growling grew more intense and there were sounds of a scuffle and grunts but the man still sounded alive.

And it wasn't your problem. Your days of coming to the rescue were over. You allowed your hand to fall from your knife. You got maybe seven steps away before the man spotted you, he caught a glimpse of your fur lined hood and started screaming for you to help him just as one of the wolves snapped the branch he was holding in half, forcing his back against a tree. His time was counting down now.

He was yelling so loud, you were sure even the villagers could hear him now. There was no way you could walk away now.

“Fucking hell.” with a heavy sigh, you dropped your backpack and stalked in the direction of the soon to be crime scene. You didn't feel the need to mask your presence, you wanted the wolves to know that you were there and that ultimately saved that man's life. The wolves were honed in on you the moment you stepped through the bush but three shots echoed through the small clearing before any of them could pounce in your direction. The echoes faded away quickly, and you sighed again watching the white snow stain red beneath the furry corpses.

The only other sound heard was the man's heavy breathing as he leaned against a tree. You looked down at your gun before putting it back in it's holster on your lower back, you may prefer blades but it was always better to have something and not need it, than to need it and not have it.

“Thank...thank you,”

You looked at the man with furrowed brows...just by looking at him, you knew that he wasn't a native but the moment he opened his mouth only confirmed it. He was American...you spotted all of his gear nearby, torn to shreds and you scoffed.

“I don't think camping is for you.”

“I don't think so either,” He tried for a smile but it was only a grimace, the blonde man pushed himself from the tree and approached you, carefully stepping around the wolves bodies, “I'm uh a bit lost, I guess.”

“And I'm leaving.”

“Wait!” he rushed around you, stopping you and you could've gone through the man if you wanted to...you were taller than him by an inch or two, and you definitely had more mass than he probably knew what to do with, “Listen, I'm obviously not from here, but I'm trying to find my daughter okay, she's—”

“I'm not from around here,” you held your hand to make him stop while simultaneously telling yourself that you're not about to get involved in someone else's mess and derail your own mission, “I'm sorry about your kid, but I can't help you.”

He frowned at you obviously not happy with your answer but he was quickly reaching into his pocket and any normal person, especially someone who is armed, would've taken a step back but you weren't some ordinary person. You simply raised an eyebrow, because you knew that he wasn't going to attack you even though he was probably fully capable of doing so. You assumed that he was about to dig out a baby picture or something but it was just a sheet of paper with writing on it. You took it before he could shove the damn thing in your face and you looked down at it carefully, keeping your face neutral.

“I can't read whatever language that is.”

You glared up at him from beneath your lashes, “And you think that I can?”

“Can you?” he shot back, and you rolled your eyes...your attention back to the paper before shoving it back in his hands, “Well?”

You nearly scowled at his impatience, “It's a mix of Romanian, Serbian and Tatar. Whoever sent that clearly doesn't want anyone else to know what's on it.”

“So you can read it then?”

“Bits and pieces,” You said with a shrug, “I'm not expert but someone named Beneviento is demanding a shorter route for wine delivery from that giant castle.”

He stared at you then down to the paper, which was full from top to bottom, then back to you, “What...that's all? Are you sure?? No, that can't be all...there has to be something about my daughter here! Here, please, just try again slower—”

“That's all I could read.” you shouldered past him, throwing your hood back up and ignoring his calls after you. Your backpack was exactly where you dropped it, you shook off the snow and threw it back on your back not caring about the cool wetness on your back now—you just wanted to get away from this area as quickly as possible. You should've used your knife as those gunshots gave away your position.

“Amateur hour everyone,” you grumbled under your breath...you veered off the path slightly, just in case he tried to follow you (wouldn't be the first time someone tried to force you to help them).

You'd maybe walked for a mile or two down the mountain before you noticed the hairs on the back of your neck standing, you chanced a casual glance over your shoulder but there was no one there, no man nor animal. Licking your dry lips you turned back around but as you were doing so, you caught something in your peripheral. A dark figure, twenty feet away and that's when you noticed how fucking quiet everything was around you...you forced yourself to keep walking even as a feeling of dread began crawling up your back, like two sharp fingers walking along the ridges of your spine.

Pushing the hood from your head, you whirled around with your knife drawn at your side gripping it with the intentions to kill but there was nothing there except two large obsidian feathers fluttering gently down onto the snow at your boots. Feathers?

Cool breath touched the base of your neck when you heard soft chuckling directly behind you. You turned around sharply, easily flipping your knife around but the mass of darkness in front of you disoriented you for a split second and that was all this creature needed. Before you could plunge your knife into it's feathery belly, a pale hand shot out and caught your wrist in a bruising grip as another hand curled itself around your throat, sharp nails oh so slightly pricking your skin.

You were about to kick away when the creature leaned forward, and it's face came from beneath the hood...only it wasn't an it, it was a she, though her entire face was hidden by the gold headgear you could see her lips and...and her eyes.

A pair of eyes you'd never forget in any of your lifetimes. It felt like a millennia ago when those eyes alone had you on your knees covered in fresh warm blood and exhausted from tearing through small armies.

Despite yourself, you were trembling in her ironclad grip, your hand that wasn't still trapped fruitlessly came up to wrap around her wrist as if that was going to help you. You both knew that it wouldn't. She brought you closer until your feet were no longer on the ground and you could feel the tip of your blade pressing against something...no, her...and your nose was nearly touching her helmet.

“ο μικρός μου πολεμιστής...” (my little warrior...) her cool breath washed over your face, her eyes still boring down into yours so intensely you swore you felt the heat, even as her hand tightened around your throat making you choke, but you were fighting against her... “επιτέλους ήρθες σπίτι μου...” her chuckle fell on deaf ears. (you've finally come home to me...)

~~

You were supposed to run into Alcina first 😭, but Miranda works too...(save the best for last obvi) I don't know I am playing Odyssey while waiting for this game to drop and I went The Old Guard route too so then I just ended up writing some shit, and I wanted to try something that's not so maiden-esque lol so I hope it's enjoyable at least...I honestly might make this a WIP...

[reluctant-fan-girl]

My thoughts on 139 as an Ereri shipper

Buckle up for a long read and some unpopular opinions haha. Feel free to add on/ correct me but this is only how I feel so take it with a pinch of salt, I'm not asking anyone to change how they feel because we're all feeling some feels right now and your grief is valid. I just really wanna talk about the chapter before I go back to my Yaoi ship. (Forgive my grammar errors and all I wrote this at 5am and I'll probably come back and fix the spelling and stuff later today)

Thoughts on ch 139:

Well... here we are guys. The last chapter, it's been one hell of a ride and even though I have only been a part of the community for three years I'm still sad it ended. (Not to mention it finished 4 days before my birthday but that's just an extra oof) I keep seeing a lot of Mikasa hate and even though I used to despise her this chapter really got me thinking and damn, she's definitely one of the strongest characters (second to Levi at least in terms of resolve but hey I'm biased lol) she killed the person she loved, who pushed her away time and time again, and until the very end wanted to save him yet she was the one who ended it all. I doubt I could do that if my girlfriend was doing something similar... but I guess most people are like that. I admit, when I read the chapter at work I began crying in the break room, not because the ending caught me off guard, it was about what I was expecting, but I'm still sad Eren died. All this stuff was foreshadowed through especially the last few chapters and I kind of hopped into the manga around when Zeke blew Levi up, and even then... I feel like I knew this would be how it turned out some time last year? It was mostly predictable since this story, from it's inception, has done nothing but break the shonen stereotype time and time again and this was just the kind of ending that would shatter the mould and make it worthy of that moniker. Now am I happy that Eremika is canon? Not really, in fact not at all I'm mad. Although tbh it's not that I really expected a same sex, age gap relationship to be canon in mainstream manga, but this is what fan fiction is made for right? Besides as much as this manga has challenged or straight up ignored it's very obvious what the intended ship was going to be from the start. Even still the confession at the end by Eren is honestly OOC from most of everything else he's said/done and feels forced but, 🤷🏻‍♀️ like... the ending would have been better if Eren's feelings stayed vague so we could come to our own conclusion. If I had my way I'd have Eren confessing to Levi and they'd run off to live in secret but again... that isn't how it ended and I'm accepting that even if I don't like it. (Plus I can read/write a fanfic of a 'better' ending to make myself feel better) but I'm glad I stuck around for such a bitter sweet end.

Eren's character:

Now I love Eren as much as anyone else, but I see lots of people crying "character assassination" and I feel this personally isnt true at least not completely. We're all grieving right now and I know he was so cute and lovable at the start (hell in a way he still is) but this has always been his character. He is the one who most desperately yearns for freedom because feels trapped by his fate more than anyone else. The line "I felt like I had to and I let myself get caught up in the flow" is proof he *knows* he isn't free despite his father's reassurance, and his own repetition of the phrase. There's a common phenomenon with mantras or the practice of repeating something over and over in your head, the more you say it, *the less you believe it* and IMHO Eren never really felt free from the start. He knew his fate was sealed and he probably could have, no... *should* have acted differently yet he himself couldn't change what fate had in store. He just kept moving forward for no other reason than he wanted to save Mikasa, Armin, and his people. He (may have?) sacrificed Carla, not to serve as motivation, but so that he could save Armin later on by eating the Colossal titan instead of burning to death. It must have been a heart wrenching choice to make but he cares for his friends more than anyone else. He gave them a fighting chance and his death gave the alliance a good name so the world (or the 20% left of it) would see they aren't the same as him. Of course I'm thinking, "What if he had Dina free Carla or just let her eat Bert I mean Grisha probably would have passed on the Attack titan to Eren even if Carla had lived," but Armin very well could've died in another way or things could've turned out so much worse for everyone else. But even if Eren hates his choice I think something to note here is he doesn't seem to regret it, taking some of Levi's advice with him to the grave (quite literally) Plus you guys have to remember he died at 19 years old, that is *young* and I may only be a few years older but 18-21 is a huge period of change and you wont make the best choices, he's dealing with all that on top of the memories of the other titan holders, and the founding titan which I think really messed with him more than anything. He even says he only wants to live 10 more years ;-; the poor thing deserved a full life too even if his perception of time is warped and he never got a chance to become an adult.

The aftermath:

Well, everyone seems happy for the most part which is great! The one thing that I didn't expect was for the ending to be bitter sweet rather than total annihilation. Historia really does seem... fuck it I don't know and this is the part that bugs me most is she never really got the ending she deserved and felt kinda... forgotten? It's hard to tell but I think she ended up loving her child in the end... maybe... she's smiling while holding her... right? Levi is out beyond the walls and he may be wheelchair bound and half blind but he's still alive! Now this is honestly my saving grace here I mean god imagine him surviving a literal bomb only to die such a lame and pointless death in the last chapter. My boy made it through everything though and he's still got them dad vibes with Gabi and Falco which is kinds sweet... but I still hate Gabi. I still really hate Gabi, but it's nice to see that they're all somewhat okay. (Plus okay... Eren Canonically being reborn as a bird is kinda hilarious yet fitting since he got his freedom... Parasitic Jaeger haha good one Isayama.) Who knows if the war will ever end, heck Isayama himself said this is only the begining and while the fight goes on they have a chance thanks to Eren sacrificing himself the way he did. He could've made so many other choices and I don't know what could've/would've been better. Maybe Isayama knows but time travel and altering the past opens a whole ass can of worms that is just... like the killing your grandpa paradox kinda thing and if I were writing this story I wouldn't wanna try and deal with that either, especially after writing one story for eleven years.

(LEVI LIVED MY BEST BOI LIVED WHOOOO YESS 😭😭😭 ALL I COULD ASK FOR AHHH) *cough* sorry I had some crying fan girl in me that demanded to be seen too

Anyways this was just my thoughts for now, I may eventually write more and hell I'll probably go back to sweet sweet denial myself, posting contradictions because dammit I love my ereri too much and some people have good points or some posts are just funny in general. Have a good day, stay safe, and we are all in this together <3 Thanks for reading all the way if you did! (And here's a good meme to lighten the mood too)

[thebleedingeffect]

The history of witchers is one buried deep in mystery and one that inspires terror in the masses due to the sheer unknown of their kind. It's said that emotions and morals are burned out of them, that they kidnap children in the night and turn them into one of them, that when they're turned they're no longer your child. Philza of course knows this to be a lie, he's seen far more viciousness in fellow man than he's ever seen in any witcher.

He would shake his head in dejected disappointment but he matters little in the grand scheme of things and allows himself to be drawn to battlefields and bloodied bed-chambers where nobles and kings alike lie in cooling sheets. Death comes for all, eventually, but Philza also respects witchers tenacity in staying alive despite how much the world believes them inhumane, savages to their very souls. Philza knows better, watches the older witchers fight through the centuries and refuse to succumb to anything less than their own stubbornness or the other side of a silver sword. He handles those souls with an extra bit of gentleness and leads them softly to the other side and spends a rare prayer to the skies that they experience a sliver of a softer end. In the grand scheme of things witchers are both new and old, new to the old gods and ancient monsters but old to the humans roaming the earth with them.

None of that matters much though as philza stands in front of a literal child, can feel how young his soul is from across the battlefield and how his heart is close to beating out of his chest. Distantly, Philza knows the trials slow the heart dramatically so the boy must be experiencing pure terror at the moment to have his heart running like a rabbit spotted by a predator.

And maybe Philza is a predator, maybe the boy is right that he's nothing but prey to an angel of death, the angel of death. In another life maybe he would've released his soul with the rest of his own, buried underneath a fortress already half buried in blood and cobble. But that's another life, in this one Philza allows the light to dance across his pitch black eyes and appears before the child and kneels, blinks back the utter stench of fear radiating from the boy. The boy fears, the witcher fears, and can feel how lady death laughs and coos in his hair, unknowing that it's a laugh of love and not condemnation.

Black, clawed hands break the wide space between them as he waits with infinite patience, waits as he watches the fear turn to hesitant curiosity as the boy refuses to look at the red staining the ground underneath. Stares no where else but the extended hand and the neverending void of the angels eyes, far deeper and darker than any potion could ever hope to achieve. He stares, and he reaches out with his own scarred hand.

It's said that most witchers of the house of wolves died that day, that the remaining fled throughout the kingdoms to lick their wounds and let their anger fester until it pushed them to death or revenge. No one remembers the tiny pink-haired boy believed to only a fate destined for death, not a hope in this life to survive the trials and to thrive. But Philza cares little of what humans or monsters alike think, or moreso a lack of what they don't know, and holds the boy tighter and the boy, Techno, buries his face into the crook of his neck and breathes.

No one knows of the witcher stolen away by the angel of death, and Philza hears the laughter of his beloved in the breeze and thinks that perhaps, no one else is blessed enough to know of the little part of his soul resting in his arms.

Out of an inability to play the witcher- should I make an emerald duo au where philza is blessed by death and acts as a reaper over the war-thrown and monster infested lands and techno is a witcher from the house of wolves? Techno was given to the witchers a long time ago but just as he began the trials, kaer morhen was attached and brought to its knees. Countless witchers either fell or ran that day, all the younger boys lost causes and techno is half driven to madness by grief and pain when he first sees the angel. Said angel stands over the sea of bodies, both witcher, man, and monster alike, and stares into Techno's eyes, one of the last remaining living beings besides the tyrants dying slowly to the blizzard winds outside the fortress.

The angel of death takes one look at the baby witcher, flinching from his new painful senses but standing as strong as he can- and is just like, mine <3