#mad howling into the abyss

[lackadaisicalnereid]

people pray so that god won’t crush them like bugs. I’m not gonna crush you.

[incorrectateam]

B.A.: You’re weak!

Murdock: You’re a hack!

B.A.: You’re whack!

[dontask-idontknoweither]

Reaching out into the abyss. Something is reaching back.

[mawlaeina]

отчаянный | Desperate

(adj.) having a great need or desire for something.

🍊 content: Obsessed! Childe x fem! reader, implied red string of fate (sort of)

✦ content w: religious themes (if you squint), praise and worship (if you squint?), implied violence and murder by Childe, general angst

Childe had to fight.

Ajax was not older than 14 years old when he suddenly fell into the abyss on a regular snowy day in Snezhnaya. He closed his eyes for one moment, and the next thing he knew he was falling down towards dark colored waters of what looked like a dimly lit cave.

In seconds, Ajax felt himself crashing down harshly against the surface of the water before he began to slowly sink. He shivered, the water constantly staying icy and cold even when he was below the surface, and there was also an uncanny atmosphere that he felt as he continued to sink.

In a panic, Ajax swam up—the feeling of such a heavy weight on his entire body almost choked him off of oxygen as he managed to break to the surface of the water.

He gasps for air as he steadies himself before be swims to some nearby land. He clings to the sandy ground once he was out of the water, choking and gasping as the density grew greater on his body—as if it was going to crush his lungs and ribs at any given moment.

But he manages to grow accustomed to it a bit as he composes himself once more. He lets out an exasperated sigh as he asks himself what was happening.

He looked around for a moment and realized that the entire place was packed with wolves with shadow-like features that were focused on him upon his arrival.

The creatures were simply staring at Ajax with some kind of dark madness and hunger—albeit slow, some were already approaching him on the little island that he was on.

He had nothing to use to defend himself with—no armor, no shield, no weapons. When one of the wolves finally dashed forward with a jaw slightly hanging and ready to bite, all Ajax could think of was to run.

And he did run away—his legs moving light and fast as he tried to avoid all the other wolves that were coming in front of him. He was running even though his legs were tired, even when his lungs started to feel like they were bursting again.

For a moment, he was happy as he managed to lose sight of the wolves.

That was until he tripped.

He tripped over his own feet and began to roll down painfully against the rough and rigid ground. Once he finally landed at the bottom, his body had taken multiple fractures on the torso, and bleeding wounds on his face and arms.

Ajax groaned in pain, reaching and placing his hands on his hair before weakly clenching his hand on it. Ajax could hear the wolves coming as they howl with distorted voices from the direction he was just running away from.

He began to panic again, his breathing frantic and scattered all over the place. He closed his eyes for a moment as the darkness began to settle in his vision. For a moment he saw glimpses of mental images of his family—his mother, father, older and younger siblings.

Was this it? Was this his demise? He felt like crying, he didn’t want to die, not now, not when he was this young.

Why? Why? Why?

He questions desperately to the gods and celestia.

Fight.

His eyes opened, widening in shock as he wore a stunned expression on his face. He heard someone—the voice clear as day, with words spoken firmly as the frozen ice of Snezhnayan fjords, yet it was somehow spoken with the same desperation that he felt.

Fight, please. I’m begging you.

The voice’s tone broke momentarily, and Ajax could somehow picture someone in front of him as he lay on the ground—the person pleading, their warm and ticklish tears fell from their eyes and onto Ajax’s cheeks. Though their face was blurry and could be vaguely seen, he sensed some familiarity coming from them—even though he remembers no one with such a voice.

I don’t want you to die.

In an instant, Ajax rolls to the side as he avoids a claw strike from a wolf that had already came up to him. His back bumps into a nearby stone wall, but he manages to take a sharp rock before standing up with haste.

His hands are tensed, clenching the sharp stone and wielding it like a kitchen knife. Despite the state of his body, he felt the urge, the need to move and survive against the monster.

Ajax dashes forward as the shadow-like wolf lunges towards him. Before the ruined animal could bite his head off, he slides under the wolf and stabs its hide before slicing through its underbelly using the stone. Once the wolf’s body passes over him, it collapses onto the ground with a pool of blood quickly forming under its lower half.

For a moment, there was some sort of adrenaline that came over Ajax—one that made him feel stronger, more confident to survive, and his fresh kill ignited a newly sense of pride of winning.

He liked how it felt for some reason.

It wasn’t until the adrenaline wore off rather quickly. He coughed out some blood as he drops the sharp bloody stone to the ground, just before he fell to his knees—eventually, his body collapses onto the ground just like the wolf before passing out.

—

Childe had to survive.

When Ajax woke up, he found himself laying on the ground—his body covered in bandages. He groaned as the pain began to strike all over his body. He looked around for a moment and saw numerous wolves laying dead and bloodied everywhere.

He doesn’t remember doing any of this, and it somehow bothered him.

The next thing he knew, he was took in by a stranger who introduced herself as Skirk. He was taught multiple skills on how to survive in this place, which was called the Abyss. Skirk teaches Ajax how to survive and pass through the regions of the Abyss unharmed, and how to wield his hydro vision in the abyss—even though he wasn’t aware that he received a vision at all in the first place.

After a month of rigorous and intense training, Skirk teaches Ajax to wield Foul Legacy. For the first few tries, transforming and using Foul Legacy for even just a few seconds put such a heavy strain on his body, and he eventually ended up in critical condition every time.

When he passes out, he dreamt or had short visions. He saw someone making tea on a kitchen counter, their faces were blurry and could be vaguely seen but he could feel some sort of warmth emanating from them. Ajax somehow knew it was the same person who talked some sense into him on the first day that he fell into the Abyss.

He holds his hand out, reaching it gently towards the person.

He wakes up, his breathing heavy as he sweats profusely. Skirk was confused as to why Ajax woke up in such a way, yet she dismisses it as an insignificant nightmare that the young child probably had.

However, in Ajax’s case, he wanted more of that warmth that he felt just now. How long has it been since he’d touch something warm after falling into the cold Abyss? He doesn’t recall, he doesn’t remember—so, naturally, as a young adolescent, he wanted more of it, he craved it.

From then on, Ajax began to train harder, harsher—pushing his body to his limits everyday. He got stronger, and that’s what he told himself what his training was for—to get stronger, to be stronger.

To conquer the world.

A merely shallow form of self-manipulation to deny a more selfish reason he had in mind.

In truth, he wanted to see and feel more of that person, and he did—so long as he passed out. He passes out more frequently now as he continuously extends his limits—pushing himself until his body was in pain from just moving a hand.

Everytime he would pass out, he would constantly try to reach for them when they weren’t looking, he would try to see their face clearer, hear their voice clearer as they talked to him for even just a second. Eventually, he realizes they were a year younger or older than him—if not, they were perhaps the same age as he was.

But as another month passed, he began to pass out less, and when he did pass out, if wouldn’t be long enough to see that person again. While it confirmed that he did get stronger, he was irritated by the absence of such a warm presence. The only light that he had in the Abyss, and now it felt like he was losing it.

Stronger, I need to get stronger.

Ajax thought to himself angrily as he began to train even without Skirk. He continued to push his limits—training in the dark and heavy waters until his lungs almost gave out, training against stronger enemies using his Foul Legacy form, training against every other weapon that he could find in the Abyss. His bloodlust began to grow by the day as he relentlessly hunted the monsters that resided in the Abyss.

Yet for some reason, he no longer saw that person when he passed out. Did he recover too quickly? Were they going to leave him behind now? They wouldn’t right? Right?

He could feel himself losing his sanity, his thoughts full of silent pleas for that person to appear at least once every other day or so.

No, no, no, please. Don’t leave me here, come back.

COME BACK!

—

Childe needed to breathe.

When Ajax came back to Teyvat, he returned to his family cabin in Snezhnaya—to which he was welcomed back warmly and gladly with thankful sobs from his family members. Much to his surprise, he had been only missing for 3 days in Teyvat despite having trained for 3 months in the Abyss.

While Ajax missed his family so much, his thoughts were still plagued with the unknown warmth that he felt in the Abyss. Yes, he enjoyed the warm hugs and such affectionate love coming from his family, he enjoyed the warm sensation of his hands when faced to the fire of the cabin fireplace—but those, for some odd reason, could not compare to the comfort that he felt and witnessed first hand in the Abyss.

They were simply not enough.

It was a week after his return that Ajax looked up to the sky. The last shimmering gloss on his eyes reflected the clear blue skies of Snezhnaya that day, and he wondered if that was just the Abyss playing tricks on his head.

He sighed as he plopped down on the snowy ground. The Snezhnayan cold no longer affected him—not when the Abyss conditioned him with colder temperatures.

His hands twitch for a moment, just like it had been for the last week. He needed to move, to fight. He thought he could control himself, that he could return to just being his mother and father’s son.

But he couldn’t, and on that day, he ended up massacring all the ruin guards he could find in his region using his Foul Legacy form.

Ajax, stop, your body can’t handle any more stress.

His eyes widened after hearing a worried voice just as he was about to move to the next region—a small wave of warmth passes by him, the sensation was weak but familiar. He pauses for a moment, waiting for them to speak again—but there was only silence.

Where are you?

He looked around the snowy terrain, still in his Foul Legacy form. It took him a few seconds of silence before his body began to feel heavy—coughing up blood and collapsing onto the snow as he turns back into his normal self.

Where are you?

He repeats inside his head with desperation. He stood up and began to walk around, his other leg limping as he does so. His mouth was slightly agape, taking in shallow breaths of the thin air as blood trickled down his mouth.

Please, please. Answer me, where are you?

When he finally turned his head, he saw you.

Clear as day, warm as the sun.

His breath hitched as he felt your hand on his cheeks, your warmth constantly emanating and burning through his cold skin. He felt like crying right then and there, but he wondered if you were real—if this was real. He raised his hand to touch yours, and it did.

“Are you okay?” You ask him, your voice full of worry—yet its so soothing to his ears. It’s that same voice that Ajax could never mistake for someone else. Ajax just stares at you for a minute, too stunned to speak as he takes in your face. “Hey, you’re badly injured, we should take you home.” You suggest.

Ajax seemed to realize something for a moment. While he knew that the person he’s seen and heard in the Abyss was you, you were acting like a stranger to him—it confused him.

“You’re injured.” Ajax pointed out abruptly as he gently takes your hand off his cheeks and spins you around lightly, which catches you off guard for a second. “Who did this to you?” He asks, his voice low and angry as he runs a finger down your back—your spine crawls at the painful sensation.

“I got hit by a ruin guard earlier and passed out by that tree earlier.” You explained rather awkwardly. “But I’m fine now, so you there’s nothing to worry about. We should get you home since you’re in an even worse condition.” You say as you turned around to face him. “Can you tell me where you live? I’ll help you get there.”

Ajax tells you where he lives, and it surprises both of you that you two were neighbors. What a coincidence, how come you never saw in each other?

It was already midnight when Ajax returned to his family cabin, with you supporting him from the side. His mother was relieved to see his son back, but her concerned grew when she saw him covered in dirt and blood. She thanked you for accompanying him during his journey home.

You told them that you were going to leave, and Ajax couldn’t help but feel devastated by the idea—so he speaks to his mother, saying how you were also injured.

Naturally, as a loving and concerned adult that she was, Ajax’s mother told you that she could at least treat your injuries before you leave, and that you could stay the night in their cabin and return home the next morning.

The look of reluctance painted on your face somehow ticked something inside Ajax’s mind. He never questioned about what happened in the Abyss—how he heard your voice when he was on the brink of death, when he was barely going to survive. He simply concluded that it just happened, that your fates were intertwined so strongly that your voice reached him even when the two of you were worlds apart.

Don’t you feel the same? Why do you want to leave?

He wanted to be angry, but he can’t find it in himself to be angry at you—not when he thinks you’ve done so much for him, not when you saved him from the brink of death in the Abyss. You were his salvation, his one and only savior in this world—not even a single person from celestia came to put him back into his senses at the time, and for that he no longer believes in them.

He believes in you.

When you finally agreed to his mother’s offer, he felt glad—an understatement to the joyful emotion that he had swirling in his chest. He lets you sleep inside his room after being treated, and when you fell asleep, he took it upon himself to watch you.

He was kneeling on the ground, arms and head resting on the side of the bed. He continues to watch you in silence for a moment before he briefly caresses your cheek.

My god.

He lifts himself up a bit, enough that he hovered over your sleeping face. He plants a chaste kiss on your forehead, feeling the comforting warmth that you had stinging his cold lips.

My universe.

—

Childe suffocated.

When he finally got recruited into the fatui, he was given a nickname, “Childe”.

Acknowledged by the Tsaritsa and the organization for having great strength at such a young age, he was given a chance to be promoted—to become a harbinger, but he had to sacrifice something or someone.

He was made to choose.

Blinded by the loyalty that he swore, he chose to sacrifice someone who would get in the way of the fatui ambition that he had. You.

With fates intertwined as strong as celestia, he was told by the Fatui that you would hinder his progress, his strength.

You were a distraction.

While Childe did return to be a fairly normal person ever since he had you by his side, the warmth that he felt from you slowly faded into something more common. Your warm hugs no longer felt special over time—it was as if you turned into another fireplace for him to stare at.

Snezhnaya was not as cold as the Abyss, and so he disregarded the need for something as warm as you.

So there he stood, in front of you with a knife held dangerously close to your neck. His hands trembled, and he seemingly fought every cell of his body from hesitating.

I just have to kill her.

He thought to himself, his inner voice lacking any sense of determination to do so.

You, yourself, was not surprised that he had come to kill you.

You knew this day would come, and you just hoped it wouldn’t happen to his family. While you were clearly against him joining the Fatui, you said nothing—a decision that you’ve come to regret every day.

As his hands trembled, you smiled sadly—closing your eyes as you held his hands. For a moment, his eyes widened, and everything turned silent as the sound of blood splattered on the ground.

Childe did not come home to his family that day like he said he would.

—

Childe has forgotten how to breathe.

“What do you mean you don’t know about big sister?” Teucer pouted, and Childe simply laughed confusedly at the young ginger.

“Who are you talking about, Teucer?” Childe asks his younger brother without a single shine of sunlight reflecting his eyes.

“You know who I’m talking about!”

“Big sister Tonia?” Childe raises a brow, but Teucer shakes his head with a frown—he was getting upset with his big brother now.

“The one you always brought to go ice fishing with us.” Childe doesn’t know what his younger brother was talking about.

“I don’t recall bringing anyone other than you when we go ice fishing by the lake, Teucer.” Childe spoke honestly and knelt down to Teucer’s level. “Buddy, are you sure you aren’t tired?” Childe asks worriedly.

Teucer shakes his head, still frowning.

Everything was so odd for Childe ever since he woke up this morning. Everyone in his family cabin had asked him about someone he doesn’t know about—his family claims that the two of them were close, very close, and they wondered why Childe no longer remembers them.

Who on earth were they talking about?

Childe asks himself as he holds Teucer’s hand as they walk to the frozen lake nearby. He wonders who that person was, and how he forgot about them if they were so close.

Once they arrived to the frozen lake, Childe couldn’t help but stare at the scenery for a moment. It was as if he was stunned for a moment from the aching sensation that he deeply felt in his chest.

It was the same lake that he’d visited in his entire life, yet for some reason…

Why is it so cold?

✦ this is kind of bad.. idk how to feel about this

✦ I didn’t want to write this because I hate angst + my sweet boy, but if I suffer I’m dragging everyone else with me

✦ would rather praise and worship him instead ngl

✦ there’s gonna be an extended version of this if I don’t get lazy soon so look out for that

✦ Yes, there’s ivantill reference there

[detect-thoughts]

So in the new Dragon Age Veilguard gameplay trailer we see 2 imposing figures appear from the Fade behind Solas as he begins tearing down the Veil

Judging by his body language, he looks reasonably concerned and afraid of them, this, as well as the fact that Solas is confirmed to not be the only Elven God we have to worry about in this game, tells me these are probably some of the Gods he sealed away long ago.

As for which ones? Judging purely from the mosaics of the ancient elves which is not exactly reliable, my guess is the Envy demon looking one on the left is likely Andruil, the goddess of hunting, and the one with the large spikes on the right is possibly Elgar'nan, the god of the sun.

Andruil is the only God to have anything to resemble those tendrils and limbs of the silhouette on the left, as well as the fact it appears to be holding some kind of object that could reasonably be a bow and Elgar'nan is the only one with a mosaic to account for those protrusions from his back, again, just guessing in the dark.

It was also said through various lore codex pieces that Andruil was twisted and corrupted to some degree through her visits to the abyss to hunt the Forgotten Ones, the darker, more evil elven gods, which eventually drove her mad and likely gave her the blight, she made armour and weapons out of darkness, brought plague to her lands and "howled things meant to be forgotten".

Vague as it is it could be used to elaborate on the significantly more twisted form compared to the figure on the right.

[jedimandalorian]

Ahsoka Episode 6 “Far, Far Away”: The Story, the Symbolism, and the Score

Episode 6 of Ahsoka begins with the sound of distant purrgil calls as Ahsoka and Huyang travel through hyperspace, crossing the void between galaxies. During their discussion of the tales Huyang used to tell the Jedi younglings there is no music.

I loved that Huyang said such an iconic line in this episode, reminding us that this is indeed a fairy tale, a children’s story.

The Title Card for Ahsoka appears, and then the episode title, “Far, far Away.”

We hear ominous music when Sabine is in the brig onboard the Eye of Sion. The window to her cell is shaped like an upside down triangle.

The sinister music continues during the scene with Baylan, Shin, and Morgan on the bridge. Morgan’s Theme (the Nightsister theme) is heard when the Eye of Sion exits hyperspace.

The line “Peridea is a graveyard” reminds us that this is indeed a “descent into the abyss” a stage of the hero’s journey which I have discussed on this blog before. Ominous music plays here.

The characters who are aligned with the dark side are on a quest for more power to dominate others. They have followed the Path to Peridea as a kind of path to perdition as I have mentioned in my previous metas. But Sabine, our heroine, is descending into the Underworld on a more noble quest. She hopes to find her beloved Ezra Bridger, echoing the story of Orpheus, the hero of Greek myth who descends into the Underworld to find his beloved Eurydice.

Morgan’s Theme continues when they board the shuttle and descend to the planet Peridea.

The landscape of J. R. R. Tolkien’s Middle-earth is suggested by the giant statues and the Nightsister fortress, which resembles an evil version of Minas Tirith.

The characters encounter three Nightsisters, analogous to the Three Fates of Greek mythology, the Moirai. (Note the similarities between this word and the name of Ahsoka’s owl, Morai, a creature I predict that we will be seeing again soon.)

The three Fates were the personification of destiny in Greek mythology. The three sisters were known as Clotho (the spinner), Lachesis (the alotter), and Atropos (the unturnable, a metaphor for death). The end credits for this episode name these three Nightsisters as Klothow, Lakesis, and Aktropaw, clearly indicating the intended symbolism of these three characters. As George Lucas said back in the late nineties, “Well, when I did Star Wars I consciously set about to recreate myths and the — and the classic mythological motifs. And I wanted to use those motifs to deal with issues that existed today.” (From billmoyers.com) Lucas’ apprentice, Dave Filoni, has learned this lesson from the master himself.

The music is quieter in this scene, with sounds of low vibrations being heard. Morgan’s Theme continues when Sabine is imprisoned by the Nightsisters’ three orbs, which held her bound within a triangle made of red cords of energy.

Outside of the fortress three wolf-like creatures howl as ominous music plays. Choral music suggesting the mysticism of the fallen Jedi Order is heard as Baylan speaks of Peridea being a realm of “dreams and madness” from old “children’s stories come to life.” Once again, the viewer is reminded that we are being told a fairy tale, a myth. The musical score subtly teases the listener with three notes from Ahsoka’s Ronin theme in this scene.

Sabine is imprisoned inside the Nightsister fortress as the Chimaera arrives with the sound of ominous metallic rumbling. Thrawn’s flagship Star Destroyer was named after the female fire-breathing monster in Greek mythology which was part lion, part goat, and part dragon.

I am no Freudian, but the Chimaera’s open docking bay hovering over the phallic tower of the Nightsister fortress seems to be the most overtly sexual symbolism I have seen in Star Wars in a long time. However, I’m not here to discuss that visual metaphor.

Organ music which anticipates but does not present Thrawn’s theme is heard as the Nighttroopers muster under Enoch’s command. These undead stormtroopers have cracked armor repaired with golden seams suggesting the Japanese art of kintsugi, as well as armor pieces bound with bands of red cloth. They are heard chanting “Thrawn! Thrawn!” as the Grand Admiral makes his dramatic entrance. For me this chant was reminiscent of how the orcs in Return of the King chanted “Grond! Grond!” when using their mighty battering ram against the walls of Minas Tirith. (You can do your own Freudian analysis of that scene. I’m not going there.) What was Grond?

“Grond, also known as the Wolf's Head, was a one hundred-foot long battering ram with a head in the shape of a ravening wolf, used in the arsenal of Sauron in the Third Age. Though named for Grond, Morgoth’s warhammer, it was created in the likeness of the Wolf of Angband, Carcharoth.”—from lotr.fandom.com

Creepy music accompanies the Nighttroopers as they transfer of cargo from the catacombs beneath the fortress. What is inside them? Dead Nightsisters, waiting to be revived by dark magic?

Thumps and low pitched sounds accompany Thrawn’s conversation with Baylan.

Thrawn speaks of Sabine’s desire to be reunited with her long-lost friend. (The word desire is a very intentional word choice, with the connotation that the connection between Sabine and Ezra has potential to be more than just friendship.)

Sabine: I’m sure he’s doing just fine.

Thrawn: You gambled the fate of your galaxy on that belief.

Sabine: You wouldn’t understand.

Thrawn: Perhaps not.

Evil does not understand love and loyalty. (See my previous post about the Path to Peridea.)

Enoch returns Sabine’s weapons to her, and she is provided with provisions and a wolf-like howler for a mount. He tells her to “die well” as she embarks on her “fool’s errand.”

The line about a “fool’s errand” calls to mind this scene from Tolkien’s novel, The Return of the King:

'Tell me,' he said, 'is there any hope? For Frodo, I mean; or at least mostly for Frodo.'

Gandalf put his hand on Pippin's head. 'There never was much hope,' he answered. 'Just a fool's hope, as I have been told…”

“A Fool’s Hope” was also the title of the penultimate episode of Star Wars Rebels final season.

Once again, Thrawn’s theme is only hinted at by the organ music at the end of the scene.

Sabine’s scanner is destroyed during her fight for her life with the red-armored bandits in the wastelands. Her life is saved by her Mandalorian armor and weapons, Ahsoka’s training, and Ezra’s lightsaber in this action sequence.

Baylan and Shin ride out on howlers. Nighttroopers load coffin-like cargo containers onto the Chimaera as uneasy music plays. Thrawn decides to dispatch only two squadrons of Nighttroopers. His disdain for Jedi, light or dark, is apparent: “It matters not whether Wren and Bridger are killed or stranded here. The same can be said for your two mercenaries.” Ominous music plays.

The scene with Sabine and the howler is accompanied by gentle music played upon wooden flutes. Sabine processes her abandonment issues and her complex feelings for Ezra in this scene by taking out her emotions on the howler. “You. You abandoned me. I should have known you are a coward.” She tries to make the howler stop following her, but the loyal animal comes back as soon as she walks away. “Okay. Fine,” she says. “I’ll give you another chance, but you better not bail on me this time.” The gentle flute music continues. A motif of ascending perfect fifths suggests Ezra’s Theme.

The howler stops to drink water and sniffs the air. The thing that Sabine and the audience assumes to be a rock is revealed to be a sentient little hermit-crab-like creature called a Noti. Gentle music plays when Sabine kneels, puts down her blaster, and extends her hand to the creature. The Noti recognizes the Rebel Alliance symbol (an evolution of her own Starbird design) on her pauldron. The creature has a medallion of his own, marked with a similar symbol.

“Do you know Ezra Bridger?” Sabine asks, touching her heart. “He’s my friend.”

Ominous music plays as Baylan and Shin discover the dead bandits. Once again choral music is heard when Baylan reminisces about the Jedi Order.

It is also revealed that the Nightsisters are fleeing from a power that is greater than their own.

Baylan and Shin see the red Bandits in the distance. “The enemy of our enemy is our friend,” says Baylan, “for now.”

Peaceful and noble sounding music is heard when Sabine sees the Noti encampment. She smiles at the mother Noti rocking her baby in a hammock.

With Sabine in the foreground, the camera pans to show a now adult, bearded Ezra Bridger wearing a red robe and leaning against the wall of his home. “I knew I could count on you,” he says as joyful music plays, music which features the piccolo, flute, and other woodwind instruments.

The closed captioning for this episode says that there is captivating music playing when Sabine and Ezra finally embrace. We hear a beautifully orchestrated rendition of Ezra’s Theme on the French horn with a new countermelody in the strings to heighten the emotional impact of this long-awaited scene.

Ezra’s Theme is heard again when he says “Sabine, thanks for coming. I can’t wait to go home.”

When we return to where the Chimaera is docked with the Nightsister fortress, a suggestion of Thrawn’s Theme is heard at a quick tempo suggesting the urgency of the situation that is about to unfold. Ahsoka Tano is coming. “The thread of destiny demands it” is a line that further emphasizes the three Nightsisters playing the role of the three fates. We finally hear Thrawn’s Theme presented in an obvious way as the episode ends.

I have blogged about the magnificent end credits music in previous blog posts, so this time I am going to discuss something different: the alchemical symbolism in Ahsoka.

The central focus of alchemy was to transmute base metals into gold and create the elixir of life, as any aficionado of the lore of the philosopher’s stone knows. The process is a metaphor for the purification and transformation of the human soul to a state of perfection.

Three colors symbolize this process, black, white, and red.

First there is the nigredo (blackening) stage of the alchemist’s work, representing the breaking of the human spirit. This is where both Sabine and Ahsoka are at the beginning of the series.

Second is the albedo (whitening) stage, which involves washing away impurities or vices, and being ready to grow and learn again. This is most clearly illustrated by Ahsoka the Grey’s “death” and transformation into Ahsoka the White.

Third is the rubedo (reddening) stage, which is where we are in the story right now. It represents the purified and awakened spirit reaching its highest and purest form.

“The symbols used in alchemical writing and art to represent this red stage can include blood, a phoenix , a rose, a crowned king, or a figure wearing red clothes.”—Wikipedia.

The color red, of course, is symbolic of Nightsisters and their magic in this series, as well as symbolizing the red thread of fate.

Baylan Skoll’s line about having to “destroy in order to create” is an example of the alchemical concept of “solve et coagula” meaning to separate then join together. Nothing new can be built without destroying the old. Perhaps this is really telling us about the destruction and rebuilding of the Jedi Order.

In the completion of the rubedo stage there must be a union of sulphur and mercury, also known as the wedding of the Red King (the sun) and the White Queen (the moon). Sulphur represents the masculine principle, the soul, and the fire of life. (Remember Ezra’s red robe?) Mercury represents the feminine principle and the mind, flexible and changing. (Sabine is a clever young woman who lives inside her head, sometimes too much. Lately she’s been distracted by her heart.) Mercury also represents a state that can transcend death.

Is the much-discussed Ezra and Sabine hug the union of Sulphur and Mercury? Or should we expect something more than that?

Much has been written about Baylan Skoll and Shin Hati as the mythological wolves who chase the sun and the moon. This episode ends with the pair in pursuit of Ezra (sulphur, the Red King, the sun) and Sabine (mercury, the White Queen, the moon). When Skoll and Hati catch the sun and the moon, Ragnarok begins.

Besides sulphur and mercury, there is another element present at the rubedo stage of alchemical transformation: salt.

Ahsoka the White is coming.

Please reblog and comment on what you think of my musical and literary analysis of this episode of Ahsoka. I am looking forward to reading your replies.

[alice-after-dark]

The Red King and the Unicorn - Legends and Lore

Heavily inspired by The Last Unicorn, Howl's Moving Castle, and Beauty and the Beast.

Sorry it's been a while since I updated one of my AUs! Been busy with my current wip. Hope you guys enjoy!

They say the Red King is a fearsome thing, a being known across the land for his powerful magic and cruelty. Clothed completely in the color of blood and with the rotted antlers of a deer, they say he crawled from the depths of the abyss, a foul evil creature made of darkness and screams.

They say when the moon rises high and full he will hunt, devouring the souls of those unlucky enough to enter his path. Parents warn their children to never venture into the forest at night, for if they did the Red King will catch them and eat them bones and all. Or perhaps he will curse you with his terrible magic and leave you to suffer for all eternity. Those who live to tell the tale are often driven mad by the encounter, too frightened to even describe what they saw. They say he can change form, taking on the shape of whatever you fear most.

They say Red King lives in a castle made of dark stone. It sits high on a cliff's edge, its tall twisted towers overlooking the sea. Those who pass through its doors never return, eaten soul and all by sharp teeth meant to rend flesh from bone.

"Niffty, dear, hand me the salt, please?...thank you."

That's what they say.

Vox watches from his place on the couch, still wrapped in the throw blanket someone had laid across him, as this creature of darkness fusses about the small kitchen. He's making some kind of stew and it smells incredible. Niffty flutters around him, fetching ingredients and chattering happily. The Red King nods along as she babbles before finally interrupting her to request she fetch everyone for dinner.

The goblin woman nods eagerly and waves at Vox. "Pretty horse! Dinner is ready!" She skips away then, presumably to find Husk. Vox jumps when he suddenly finds the abyssal being beside him.

"Do you need assistance getting to the table?" The Red King asks. "It's my understanding you were having some difficulty this morning."

Vox blushes, remembering how he's nearly fallen down the stairs, and nods. He takes the hand offered to him with hesitation and he is instantly reminded of the night he was taken away from the carnival. He'd offered him his hand then too.

He can feel their bond through the contact and the unicorn stands on shaky legs, but the Red King holds him firm. "One step at a time, dear." He places his other hand on Vox's lower back to hold him steady. Vox nods and does as instructed, hobbling ungracefully over to the table. "You'll get better with practice," the king says, helping him into a chair. "It took Husker some time to learn how to walk on two legs as well. You'll adapt."

"Um...thank you," Vox says, voice barely above a whisper. It still feels strange to speak again, after being forcibly silenced for so long. The Red King places a bowl of stew in front of him and waves a hand.

"Eat. You're far too thin as it is. I'm sure the others won't mind if you start without them."

"O-okay."

It only takes him a couple tries to get a good grip on the...well, he doesn't know what this one is called, but there's no fork so Vox assumes this is what he is meant to be using for the meal. He's not quite sure he's doing it right, but his hold is firm enough that he's satisfied. His first try makes him realize the tool is upside-down and after a quick correction, his second attempt is much more successful, if not a little clumsy. Still, the food makes it into his mouth and he smiles.

"This is...really good." He takes another bite. He only gets silence in response and when he looks up, the Red King is watching him. He's still smiling, but there's something about his eyes that makes Vox feel like he's actually frowning. "Is...something wrong?" His heart begins to slam in his chest. Something unpleasant tingles through their bond.

To his shock, the Red King almost seems embarrassed at having been caught and he looks away abruptly. "Nothing is...technically wrong, no. I suppose I just...I usually add much more flavor to my cooking, but I toned it down some because I wasn't sure if it would be too much for you so soon. What have they been feeding you that has destroyed your palette so?"

Vox isn't sure he entirely understands. The food seems incredibly rich to him. But the being's last question has him sinking low in his chair. "Hay, mostly. Sometimes scraps of raw vegetables." He eyes the remnants still on the counter with disdain. The Red King follows his gaze and his eyes go sharp.

"Their prized catch, fed like a common mule? If you weren't immortal, you would have starved. It's no wonder you were so weak when we found you."

"Um...how did you find me? I've been trapped there for years and never once has anyone tried to rescue me."

The king waves his hand at the bowl. "Keep eating while we talk. Truth be told, we weren't looking for you. It was a rather happy accident that we stumbled across your imprisonment. We had thought everything at the show would be fake. Imagine our surprise to find the genuine article locked up in a tiny cage."

Vox curls in on himself a little as he takes another bite, the warm stew sharply contrasting the memory of the cold cramped space that had been his home for years. "I...thank you...for rescuing me anyways."

"Now, none of that. We've already made our bargain. No further sentiments are necessary."

Vox opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the arrival of Husk and Niffty.

"Fuckin' mandrakes," Husk hisses as he stomps into the main room. His fur is matted with dirt. "Al, you mind?"

Al?

The Red King points in Husk's direction and a small whirlwind kicks up around him, gathering the dirt from his fur and carrying it back the way Husk had come. Husk's fur puffs up in a fashion that looks so ridiculous, Vox has to hide a snort behind his hand.

Husk grumbles. "Ha ha, very funny."

"I like to think I am," the king replies, chuckling as the manticore smooths down is fur.

"I'm funny, but looks aren't everything!" Niffty giggled. Vox doesn't understand the joke, but whatever it is, Husk and the Red King don't seem to enjoy it as they share a disapproving look between the two of them.

The king steeples his finger together. "Niffty, darling, what have I said about self-deprecation?"

"That I shouldn't do it, but it's fine. I know I'm ugly. Daddy used to tell me so all the time." The tiny woman has already helped herself to a bowl and is settling into her seat beside Vox.

"And what have I said about your father?"

"That he tasted like shit!"

Husk chokes on a laugh, the king sighs low, and Vox nearly drops his...stew eating tool.

Tasted?!

The Red King clears his throat. "Well, yes, but also I believe I have told you that he is, in fact, a wretched imbecile who couldn't tell his arse from his elbow. Why would you trust the word of a man with so few brain cells? You're a lovely woman and I won't hear otherwise."

Niffty giggles and digs into her stew happily. Husk starts talking to the king about the state of the garden, everyone seemingly oblivious to the dumbfounded unicorn at the end of the table.

TASTED?!

---

Husk being in charge of the garden was inspired by @hiemaldesirae's comments on a Hazbin poll about who would have a succulent garden.

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

I saw you were considering doing hcs, so I thought to request, how do you think dream would feel about a s/o's reaction to them getting mad mad at something and becoming eldritchy saying 'mark me down as Scared and horny' (i feel like he'd make the shocked Pikachu face lmao) you're writing always turns me to human spaghetti 💜

This is the BEST way to end a rough week. Thank you so much for the prompt! I hope I've understood it clearly. Pulled an all-nighter for work and am a little on the loopy side.

Entirely unedited. Just for fun!

Strong Feelings

Dream is terrifying.

He understands this. That's why he's drawn to the few who don't curl away in fear like flowers against a hard rain.

You've never cowered. And he was - is - drawn.

He frowned at you with starlit eyes in the dark and you grinned at the entity so far beyond mortal ken.

A grin. Not a smile.

You smile when he wears jeans and goes barefoot in the palace. You smile when he curls his knuckles into the cup of your palm and presses just close enough to share the thrumming energy of your living heartbeat.

Dream does not try to be terrifying. Not to you.

Maybe he is without meaning to be. But he doesn't want to be terrifying.

Until he does.

Until he's angry and wants you to remember who he is and how very small you are.

Until he's afraid

He becomes stronger than the moon's pull on the sea.

His voice travels through black holes - too dark and heavy to be anything but felt.

He lets his eyes flare with stellar fires and lets his rage become a palpable mass that floods the throne room.

His subjects scatter, and a billion dreamers writhe in their nightmares.

And you -

grin.

You stare into the depths beyond the abyss to hold his star-cold gaze with the little hairs along your arms and neck standing on end.

"Well, mark me down as scared and horny."

The tide falls free of his grip. The howling of space goes quiet. The nebula he gazes through softens. Blinks.

Dream doesn't understand.

He doesn't understand as bring the trembling tips of your fingers to his, as you pull yourself into the endless embrace of his cloak, as your cheeks flush even as your heart flutters.

But you share it all back with him.

Your fear. Your passion. The thrill of reaching out to embrace the lightning.

Every mortal anxiety turned eager by curiosity.

Your kiss is adrenaline and teeth, and you don't leave his arms and the darkness curled around him until it's dawn and he's learned something new.

He knows your grin and what it means. He knows you've never been fearless, and he no longer wishes you to be.

And

Sometimes, after that, Dream means to be terrifying.

[burningvelvet]

For the past few days this passage from Wuthering Heights has been stuck in my head...

"'[..] Her life closed in a gentle dream — may she wake as kindly in the other world!'

'May she wake in torment!' he cried, with frightful vehemence, stamping his foot, and groaning in a sudden paroxysm of ungovernable passion. 'Why, she’s a liar to the end! Where is she? Not there — not in heaven — not perished — where? Oh! you said you cared nothing for my sufferings! And I pray one prayer — I repeat it till my tongue stiffens — Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living; you said I killed you — haunt me, then! The murdered do haunt their murderers, I believe. I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always — take any form — drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!'

He dashed his head against the knotted trunk; and, lifting up his eyes, howled, not like a man, but like a savage beast being goaded to death with knives and spears. I observed several splashes of blood about the bark of the tree, and his hand and forehead were both stained; probably the scene I witnessed was a repetition of others acted during the night. It hardly moved my compassion — it appalled me: still, I felt reluctant to quit him so. But the moment he recollected himself enough to notice me watching, he thundered a command for me to go, and I obeyed. He was beyond my skill to quiet or console!"

[summertimemusician]

Linktober Shadow Day 6

Shadow Beast

The Twilight Princess fan in me really came out on this one huh? I blame the sleep deprivation. We never quite addressed the effects of the Twili Magic on Twilight and how it's only sheer force of will and the fact he's so darn kind, Midna's influence and Time teaching him the Song of Healing first being the main factor in making sure he doesn't fall huh? Even more so than the One Cutscene. We also need to talk more about the fact we technically kill Midna's people and how by the end of it all Twi is so changed by the Twilight Realm who's it's own can of worms that, much like Time he can't quite go home as himself me thinks, as a treat to myself

Mostly Twilight x Reader, this goes out to all of the folks who never quite recovered from Twilight Princess and the fact we never got that sequel (I mean it gave us BOTW and TOTK and Wild, but at what cost?), but can be read as Link x Reader either on the platonic or romantic.

Don't think there's any warning this time but might edit later if needed.

Actually yeah there is one warning

TW:

References to body horror typical to Twilight Princess, though I recommend not reading it I'd you're squeamish period.

Even after so long, you and Twilight could still remember the beauty and solemnity of the Twilight Realm, with it’s zircon skies with clouds of trapped fire and rains of viper obsidian.

The silence of the infection upon the realm of light broken only by the echoes of the howling elegy of the Twili and Interlopers who came before creeping over the land like rot and wither over flowers, the lament of the lost spirits of the people and animals of Hyrule falling over your spirit like a shroud, a shared hymm from two worlds reality had been twisted, only both of it’s princess, one filled the luster of empyreal sorrow in her mind and one with the scorch abyssal fury in her heart knowing to see the reflective tragedy befallen to their people. With Link as the one who restored the memory of what once was in both worlds as divinity and calamity sang in his bones and you a witness to the restoration of harmony to the discordant symphony, the two different songs of light and shadow refusing to let go of either of you in an eternal duet.

(Once touched by magic, it shall never leave the one if holds onto Twilight may have been the one with the Beast in his soul, with the howl of a wolf, the bite of shades in his veins and the lament of innocents taking precedence over anything purely because he learned how to silence the whispers of the one’s who made a grab for heaven’s throat and we’re pushed in the cracks of reality for their prideful vánitas even as he could taste it in the back of his tongue, twining around his ribs and overgrowing into his shattered mirror heart like vines, flowering with the divinity and eternal nature of the Hero’s Spirit, already having the hunt of the Fierce Deity in it’s veins and the remains of cursed divinity welcoming the new aspect merrily so he could bear it. The song of the innocent wrongly punished among the sinners rang into your mind, scratched at your skin and dug it’s claws around your throat, chocking you with sorrow and regret, more willing to leave gouges than to let go of someone’s who’s looked into the reverse side of the sacred realm and wept with grief for it’s people and the curse of it’s beauty.

It would never leave you, Link or Zelda, who learned who love the darkness the way Midna did, madness and unsightly delight and all.)

While the people of Hyrule merely became trapped as observers at best, if they were lucky, Midna’s raging grief and resentment quickly became obvious, once she revealed that rotten Zant had done to her and her people, twisted into a new form, distorted in body and trapped in mind like the animals and beasts of Hyrule, their pain driving them in becoming feral attack hounds for the usurper, their howling screams as much sorrow, wailing in an attempt to let their agonized, tortured souls to escape from it’s mouth, a futile attempt to flee from the strain of reality forgetting their true form in favor of Zant’s twisted design, of being used as sentient canvases for cruelty and ruthlessness, of their will being stepped over in favor of corrupting recreation.

Of how it only didn’t quaff down at Midna’s mind because of the nature of her ephemerality, fully beloved by the Realm of Darkness, of how she loathed him for it and wouldn’t wish her fate of that of her people’s on any living or dead soul, once she came to love the Realm of Light through Zelda’s sacrifice.

Which was why, when you saw three of the victims of the telltale twisting from darkness utilized with the intent to drive one insane, a familiar looking plate of stone engraved on the remains of ashes from their identity, the curling of distorted, solid darkness making crooked mishapen manes, bent out of shape from their too long torso and long, long arms adorned with twitching, deformed claws, you feel very justified in way your blood froze, holding onto Wild’s arms and yanking with all you had so his shot will miss, his yelp of surprise swallowed by the bone cracking, blood curdling screech from one of the beasts as a Skyward Strike grazed it’s petrified flesh.

You feel something warm drip down your ears, taste the promise of violence and the cry of lost souls on the back of your tongue and swallow it down as the memory of the Twilight Realm attempted to bite and crack your ribcage to quaff down your heart, to devour it bones and all, calling out in desperation, “Don’t! That’s a person!”

Sky freezes, as still as a statue, Legend curses the heavens crimson in a way you are so glad Wind isn’t around to hear as he retreats Twilight snarls, the wolf in him revolted and disgusted, you wonder if the Twilight is singing in his mind too as he restrains himself from reaching for the crystal as nails just a tad too sharp invite droplets of blood to one hand, grimm as a graveyard “We need to get them together anyway, felling just one won’t be enough.”

You grimace, releasing Wild, keeping your eye on the Shadow Beasts and another on your group, pointedly not mentioning the twitch in Four, amethyst clouding his gaze and the prism of his eyes turning gray with memories you and Twilight both knew all too well, of the grimace in Time’s otherwise stony countenance, you’d wished to avoid bloodshed of whoever was turned against their will, but you and Twilight both knew that might not be possible, death, unfortunately, might be the greatest mercy you can grant these poor souls.

(The Twilight is harmonizing in your ears, jeering, you feel the Interlopers insanity and the Twili’s lament on your teeth. As lovely as it could be cruel, the merry feeling upon meeting, the sorrow at a parting.

If you ever see the Shadow, you might just try indulging the echo by offering it’s blood as tribute. You'd make it hurt. The fact it learned the spell used to deform reality in such a way was cruel and vile.)

“Legend, how is your magic?” shoots Warriors, analyzing, calculating, it snaps the purple back into Four’s gaze, brings his mind back to focus as he reaches into his inventory for his Moon Pearl, Twilight is circling the beasts with single minded purpose, herding them together and prowling as he would as a wolf, Wild thankfully listened to your warning and had switched from the more destructive Flame and Lightning Arrows to ice ones. It doesn’t contain them for long but it gives a few precious seconds to strategize.

Legend catches on, switching to the Ice Rod on one hand and grasping his own Moon Pearl with the other, Sky has another Skyward Strike ready, but doesn’t release it, you switch from your sword to accepting a Magic Rod tossed at you from Wild, “Good enough.”

You breath in shakily, the symphony of the Twilight Realm has quieted, more lament than anthem as it’s Hero steps back, returning to your side, he nods grimly, “... Then, let’s end this quickly.”

You know your will boys will do their best to heal them, and failing that, you hope that they’ll hear the requiem of the Twili rather than the lament once they’re at peace, that they'll find some form of threnody.

It is a horrible thing, to be forced to die as a beast.

[cyril-v-pyromancer]

Wednesday Love

I talk about Castien a LOT but what about his boytoy boyfriend??? Since he's in beast form doing stuff right now, we get some neat stuff I can do since Castien is a deer :D

Avalon’s winds howled shrilly through out the abyss of the sky. No light touches the fur of the red wolf stalking forward. He is half mad with hunger, saliva forming foam around his mouth. He was no better than a rabid hound. He smelled blood nearby and simply could not help himself.

A doe looks at him with big brown eyes. The trees barely shield her. Her entire body quivers like a leaf about to be torn from the branch.

Wednesday looks at her, drooling again despite the meal he ate moments ago. He knows he shouldn’t. No. He can’t. If he kills this one deer, who’s to say he won’t go mad and try to kill Castien next? The doe freezes, her blood thrumming like a wild river washing.

The doe regains her senses and bolts off, leaving the odd wolf to his moral crisis.

Taglist below!

TAGLIST ASK TO BE REMOVED/ADDED: @writing-is-a-martial-art @sparrow-orion-writes @memento-morri-writes @theathenverse @verba-writing @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @albatris @fearofahumanplanet @nivahiem @welcometowriteblr @365runesofthesystem@theimperiumchronicles @cryptid-s-wips@kjscottwrites@thepunk-nessmonster

[bloodblanks]

tili tili bom [eyeless jack x reader] — chapter i.

It’s been two months since you were first diagnosed with a terminal illness. Therefore, it’s not all that surprising when the grim reaper, complete with his cloak, scythe, and deep blue mask crawls in through your window.

co-written with the lovely dawn_citrinitas! ♡

author's note: this fanfiction will not contain much, if any, dark or explicit content, but nonetheless,

please read at your own discretion.

<- previous chapter

20th February. Barnaul, Russia.

The tempest surrounding her was barrenly cold. The fierce winds battered at her delicate form, sending her clothes rippling and whipping against her own skin.

The sun, along with its accompanying clouds, had disappeared from the sky a couple of hours ago. Overhead, adorned with an abundance of tiny, shining stars, was a black abyss stretching out to every end of her sight. Staring up at the crescent moon that hung high in the sky, Y/N happily froze outside the hospital walls, with nothing to oppose the blizzard raging around her.

The girl huddled up, hugging herself, dressed in only a pair of flimsy shorts that did little to cover her legs, a cropped t-shirt and her favourite fluffy slippers. Her hands ran up and down from her arms to her shoulders, desperately attempting to generate some warmth to escape the bitter coldness of the December storms.

Permitting the mad element to win this unequal battle, Y/N, despite the possible consequences, indulged in fresh air for the first time in two months. Still, she knew her time here was limited, cut short by the fact that she had to return soon. Otherwise, the hospital staff would find her, and God knows what punishment she’d receive for the little stunt she had pulled. It’d have been worth it, though. She would gladly accept the repercussions; the sensation of the harsh climate, while abrasive, felt ever so alive in contrast to the stiff, unmoving air within the hospital rooms.

She hadn’t been thinking about the ramifications when she left, though. At the time, she had been more concerned about her means of escape. After all, leaving the hospital was no simple task—all the windows’ handles were removed for safety reasons, and it was necessary to ask one of the nurses to open them. However, she had found out where all the window handles were hidden and took advantage of this at the very first opportunity she found, retrieving a handle for herself and opening the way to her freedom, leaping out into the snowy grounds below.

Even though the possibility of being caught ran across her mind, she didn’t feel as worried as she figured she should have.

Pale as a sheet of paper, her skin reddened from the cold, the snowflakes touching the surface of her skin felt like individual shards of glass, cutting through the entirety of her body, slicing every inch of exposed skin, where the pyjamas failed to cover her.

Her newfound freedom was short-lived, gone as soon as it came. Through the guttural howls of the wind, she could hear faint shouts of her name, along with the sound of footsteps.

She didn’t turn around. She kept looking straight ahead, her chin tilted slightly upwards towards the sky as she took in the sight before her, admiring the scintillas of light glittering through the night. She continued gazing at the stars as she took a deep breath, the air ever so cold as she inhaled the fresh winter scent, wanting to enjoy the exquisite atmosphere for just a second longer, and not from behind the closed window of the hospital ward.

A worried nurse rushed over to the shivering girl. Her hair was frazzled, strands poking out of what was once a neat bun, the freezing wind ruffling the snow-white robe worn on the shoulders of the young hospital worker.

“Y/N!” she called out to the girl. “There you are! We’ve been looking for you everywhere.” the nurse exclaimed as she gasped for breath. She had visibly been running around for a while searching for the missing patient. She ran up to Y/N, who was trembling from the cold and grabbed her hand.

Y/N stayed silent. She looked around for the last time, trying to sear an imprint of the scenery in her mind, something to take with her as she followed the alarmed nurse, who was already hastily tugging her back towards the hospital building.

“You know you can’t sneak out like this! And especially in this weather too?” the nurse scolded her, trying to convey to the foolish seventeen-year-old how unacceptable her behaviour was, hoping she wouldn’t do it again.

But Y/N already knew. Y/N already knew that she couldn’t leave the hospital. She had known it since the day she was brought here, when her outerwear and shoes were taken away from her, likely so as to avoid situations like the one she now found herself in.

“Sorry,” Y/N muttered, barely moving her frozen limbs.

She wasn’t sorry. She didn’t regret her actions in the slightest, but she didn’t want to create more problems for herself than she already had. She decided not to worsen the situation; it was much easier to simply nod along and be obedient.

Lost in her thoughts, Y/N didn’t even pay attention to her journey back, only noticing that she had returned when the nauseatingly bright hospital lights snapped her out of her trance. She realized then that she was now passing the reception room entrance, but despite already being inside the building, the nurse held onto Y/N’s hand tightly as if she was afraid of another escape attempt.

And then she was walking up the stairs again, with its broken, slippery tiles. The cockroaches accompanying the girl on her way to the ward and the bars on the windows of the long flights of stairs made this place appear even more like a prison for sick children rather than a place intended to recover one’s health.

When they arrived at the nurses’ station, the nurse finally released Y/N’s hand. A moment’s silence passed as the young hospital employee gave Y/N, still trembling from the cold, a sympathetic look. She, in turn, cast her eyes down to the floor, silently hoping to never again see people in white coats with her everywhere she went.

“Y/N.” the nurse stated her name, causing her to look back up and meet her gaze. “Promise me you won’t do that again, and I’ll promise not to tell anyone about your… adventure.”

Y/N shrugged sheepishly.

“Promise,” she mumbled. The nurse seemed satisfied with her response.

“Alright, good. Go take a hot shower and get to bed. But don’t forget to come back and pick up your pills before you sleep.” Instead of being reprimanded and forced to explain herself, like Y/N had expected, the nurse merely gave her instructions and then left, to her relief.

She did as she was told. She took a hot shower, changed out of her damp clothes and into fresh, dry ones before putting on a non-soggy pair of slippers and heading back to the nurse’s station for another portion of pills that would barely help her.

After exchanging awkward glances with the nurse and receiving the necessary pills from her, Y/N began walking toward the treatment room. Upon her arrival in the waiting area, she was greeted with the cries of children, afraid of their upcoming procedure. Trying her best to tune out the awful noise, she impatiently waited her turn to receive intramuscular administration of antibiotics. After a short but welcome stay in the fresh air outside, the stuffiness within the hospital walls felt even more sickening than before. The wailing sobs of the children stuck here seemed even louder, the orderlies scurrying around more irritating than ever before, and the jarring whiteness of the hospital lights only added fuel to the ever-growing fire inside her.

Today marked an exact two and a half months since the beginning of her stay. Her very first visit was six months back, during October, around the time the first snow had fallen. While she had been experiencing various pains prior to that, her guardian had brushed it aside, deeming her words to be mere excuses in order to avoid attending school. It was only when the agony had become too much to bear and she had eventually fainted that she was brought in for medical treatment. After the running of various tests, and trials of different medications, which dragged on until early December, she was eventually told by the doctor of the unfortunate results of the situation—that she had approximately five months left to live.

Calm down, she tried to tell herself. I just need to get my injection, and then I can return to the peaceful, quiet darkness of my room, the girl thought, taking a deep breath in an attempt to pacify her frustrations.

Fortunately for her, it wasn’t a long wait, only ten minutes or so before she was granted access to the treatment room, where a nurse did her injection for the third time that day.

Finally, after that whole ordeal, she was done and can now return to the ward. Stepping into her chamber and going inside, Y/N casually tossed her pills onto the bedside table. She placed her favourite mug—with funny text and a cat printed on it, given to her by her aunt on the first day of her stay in the hospital—filled with water on the nightstand beside her pills. She then sat down on the edge of the old, creaky hospital bed she was forced to sleep in. Loosening and combing through her hair, she gazed out of her handleless window, looking through the shut panel of glass to see the moon shining in contrast to the dark sky it floated in. The storm had subsided at some point, and now, a vast amount of snowflakes were gently descending towards the ground, each resembling a star as they twinkled under the moonlight, which reflected off pearly white snowdrifts that illuminated the street landscape. Imprisoned within four sterile, colourless walls, she would give anything to once again be amongst the snow, even for a mere couple of minutes.

But that wouldn’t happen. All she could do now was try to sleep, hoping that her dreams would dilute the tragic reality of her hospital days.

Picking up her mug of water and the last of the day’s medicine from the nightstand, Y/N popped two small pink pills into her mouth. Two pills of Teraligen. Two pills to allow her to finally escape her consciousness, sinking into the depths of sleep and down the rabbit hole to Wonderland.

Washing the pills down with the water, she made herself comfortable in bed, although some time remained before the medication would take effect. She’d need to find a way to pass the time, and so she reached to her bedside table for the book she had started not too long ago.

Land of the Dead, by Jean-Christophe Grange.

Y/N had an inexplicable passion for true crime stories, and while the crime in this particular book was fictional, she still enthusiastically read it before going to bed.

As a child, she had often dreamed of writing herself. She, too, wanted to tell stories; she desired to one day become a great writer, doing what she enjoyed in life. But as she grew up, she understood the impossibility of her wishes and cast her hopes away, leaving them discarded, left to decay.

With each passing year, her studies and extracurricular activities put increasing amounts of pressure on her. By age ten, her mandatory activities consumed so much of her time that she no longer remembered her desire to write. And when she was later reminded of it, she came to the bitter realization that her skills would not be enough even for a modest tale.

The young patient put aside the book that no longer interested her and succumbed to the surging memories in an attempt to sleep.

From the age of seven, her grandmother—who became her guardian after both her parents passed away—tried to make perfection out of Y/N. She was signed up for lessons in art, swimming, singing, playing the piano, dancing and acting on top of her pre-existing studies. She had strived to be the best in all her classes, performing at various school events while actively participating in other aspects of her life. She was set as an example, and she was admired.

She did not manage to withstand such a workload for very long, though. Around the time she turned eleven, her performance had deteriorated. She would seek out excuses to skip her extracurriculars, often got sick, and took up every opportunity to miss lessons at school. She repeatedly asked her grandmother to stop this and let her quit at least one of the subjects she hated. Each of her requests went unanswered.

By fifteen, the growing girl was already mortally tired of her duties. She no longer bothered to make excuses for her regular absences from class, instead openly stating that she no longer wished to attend school. She left all extracurricular activities. She constantly argued with her guardian, the two yelling at one another until she would eventually be hit.

Still, she asked her grandmother for help, expressing her inability to cope and attempting to establish a relationship despite the endless moral breakdowns. Yet the only answer she’d receive was another blossoming bruise, green, purple, and blue.

After all, perfection should have no flaws.

In the dark room, one could hardly see the young girl’s body curled up in her bed. As she remembered her life outside the confinement of the hospital, she realized that it wasn’t as much of an improvement from her current situation as she would have liked to believe. Resigning herself to her fate, she found herself finally able to relax, her head finally devoid of thoughts, her body losing its tension, and sleep finally beginning to overcome her.

Y/N found herself drifting off at a steady pace before an unintelligible sound broke the silence. Angrily growling some kind of curse under her breath, she came to the conclusion that she wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight. Tired and irritated, she dragged her blanket up and over her head, trying to muffle whatever noise she would hear.

It was only then that she realized that her room was virtually empty. There were very few things that could have made a sound.

Perhaps something fell, she thought, but what in the world could it be?

Her curiosity won, so she tore the blanket off her head, abruptly sitting up in her bed, eyes darting around the room in search of the source of the noise that had stolen her chance at a long-awaited rest. Yet what she saw next, she was entirely unprepared for.

Y/N’s eyes widened, stretching impossibly large as her eyes took in the sight before her.

A tall man stood on the floor by the freshly opened window, dressed in a dark robe that fluttered ever so slightly from the breeze outside, a scythe loosely gripped in his hands. A dark navy—almost black, under the dim lighting of the room—mask covering his face, the man slowly walked towards her bed, approaching her.

She had heard it in folklore, read about it in books, and seen it in movies, but never did she think she would behold it in real life. However, she had experienced hallucinations before; more likely than not, the grim reaper was one of them. Still, she found herself wanting to interact with him, just out of curiosity, just in case.

“You came for me?” she asked, her voice calm with barely masked amusement.

The reaper stopped in his tracks, his downcast head snapping upwards to stare directly into her. The two empty abysses in his mask where his eyes would bore directly into her, giving her the feeling as if they were looking into her soul. But he didn’t say anything after that, so she tried again.

“Mr. Reaper?” she questioned, hoping the stupid hallucination that ruined her sleep would at least entertain her and reply.

To her surprise, the man finally spoke, his voice deep but quiet, barely audible, if not for the complete silence that enveloped the room.

“You can see me?”

next chapter ->

[broodwolf221]

mythal & andruil | flemeth & morrigan

talking to my friends today and offhandedly mentioned a possible parallel/inversion that could be drawn between these two duos, so ofc now it'll get its own meta post 😂

mythal & andruil

codex entry: One day Andruil grew tired of hunting mortal men and beasts. She began stalking the Forgotten Ones, wicked things that thrive in the abyss. Yet even a god should not linger there, and each time she entered the Void, Andruil suffered longer and longer periods of madness after returning.

Andruil put on armor made of the Void, and all forgot her true face. She made weapons of darkness, and plague ate her lands. She howled things meant to be forgotten, and the other gods became fearful Andruil would hunt them in turn. So Mythal spread rumors of a monstrous creature and took the form of a great serpent, waiting for Andruil at the base of a mountain.

When Andruil came, Mythal sprang on the hunter. They fought for three day and nights, Andruil slashing deep gouges in the serpent's hide. But Mythal's magic sapped Andruil's strength, and stole her knowledge of how to find the Void. After this, the great hunter could never make her way back to the abyss, and peace returned.

—Translated from ancient elven found in the Arbor Wilds, source unverified

from the sounds of this, andruil became corrupted through her journeys. she was already intense and a dedicated hunter, but she was becoming a threat to the other evanuris. so mythal stepped in, and stripped the knowledge from andruil.

to mythal, this act may have been saving her daughter; it may have been gaining personal power; or it may have been sparing the other evanuris. or something else entirely. but for this meta, the motivations are less relevant than the action itself.

she likely thought her efforts were successful. that she had taken andruil's corruption. but then the evanuris eventually turn on mythal and kill her (or, well, try to), presumably including andruil. what role she played in that and the specific reasoning of the evanuris is unclear - they might have been corrupted; it might have something to do with mythal having taken a lover (as is the case in flemeth's personal, pre-mythal story); or it might have been a political move. regardless, it seems that andruil participated in matricide.

flemeth & morrigan

in contrast to the above, where mythal is stopping/possibly trying to save andruil, where andruil is the corrupted/evil/"evil" one who must be stopped, the situation is reversed with flemeth and morrigan. flemeth plants her grimoire full of half-truths (at best) and lets morrigan find it.

the warden has the option to fight and "kill" flemeth, with morrigan's aid. and actually, flemeth is a dragon in that scene - whether 'serpent' in her fight with andruil meant 'dragon' is unclear, but either way she was definitely a beast in both scenarios. but this time she is the evil one, or letting herself be perceived as the evil one.

is she doing it to force morrigan to make the same mistake she did? to make her daughter believe that she had killed flemeth, and to stop looking for her/stop being so wary, so that flemeth could be free to make her moves? was she trying to replicate the experience she had with andruil but reversed?

of course, the warden has the option to reject that fight, in which case flemeth is not cut out of the picture. but it's a very interesting parallel nonetheless, whether morrigan fulfills the same/a similar role as mythal had so long ago, or if she chooses to avoid bloodshed and violence as a solution (or if the warden does, more)

[tarnishedinquirer]

Case: The Ailing Village

Scratch what I said about no functional settlements. I was pleasantly surprised when I saw a path leading up into the woods, and I could see a village that wasn't completely in ruins. Cooking fires still burning and everything.

Scratch that scratch that. No sooner did I approach the cooking fire than I was attacked by giant rats with yellow flame in their eyes. Their bites were not just physically painful, but made my head ache terribly. An unhealthy pressure behind the eyes.

After dispatching the rats, I found out what would happen if I succumbed to the rat bites. They'd taken out a noble, and I could see a faint glow beneath him. I rolled him over, and one of his eyes fell out; a soft little yellow ember. I've picked up some distasteful things because the voice said they'd be useful, but this one was especially appalling.

A sign that the deceased suffered from the flame of frenzy. This grape has ripened and burst.

A flame of madness that rests in the eyes... a bit of memory stirred like a beast from the abyss. Yet in darkness it remained. A mere recognition of some horrible truth.

Instead, a memory of another life emerges. Blood. A terrible curse. Men howling at the moon like beasts. Eyes rotting in their sockets. The damned drawn into a nightmare of frenzied, blood-soaked violence for eternity.

Perhaps these false memories, these memories of other lives, are a way of processing truths I am not yet ready to face.

Even the plants were affected by whatever blight had come to this village. Much like how the Lord of Blood's presence is felt in Blood Roses, the Flame of Frenzy must be felt in these "Eyes of Yelough" bushes. Supposedly it can be used as a pain reliever but I'm not sure I'd trust it.

Unfortunately, it was not just rats in this village. In the center of town was a bonfire, with villagers gathered around it. They were all frozen in place, locked in some mix of agony and ecstasy, grasping at their burning eyes.

A corpse inside one of the huts was reaching straight up into the air, as if grasping something unseen. Beside him, there was a Flame Crest Wooden Shield. The voice informed me that it was carried by the soldiers guarding this village and intended as a warning.

Strange. Some of the villagers have weapons, but I'd hardly call them soldiers. What happened to the soldiers that were supposed to be guarding this place?

Well, well. Turns out the trail might not be completely cold after all. I found a group of three Misbegotten hiding out near the village. None of them were infected, but one of them still seemed somewhat afflicted. The other two attacked without hesitation, but this one just lay down flat and didn't move until I drew his attention. These were overlooking the merchant though, and the light, flying type. Not the kind that's capable of wielding a heavy cleaver. Still, the fact they had observers placed here meant something more was going on.

At the heart of the village, there was a church dedicated to Marika. Called the Callu Baptismal Church, though I didn't see any baptismal font. It was thoroughly infested with frenzy-afflicted rats, and once I took care of them, I claimed a Sacred Tear and the incantation, "The Flame of Frenzy."

The only good thing about incantations is that by their very nature, I don't even need the voice to explain it most of the time. It's just liturgical text and though the metaphors might go over my head, at least I can read it. This was a plea to the Frenzied Flame to consume the speaker's eyes (and those of their enemies) in holy fire. The only thing the voice had to add was how I could use it, which... no. I'm not a woman of faith. The gods had yet to impress me.

As I left the church, I showed the remaining, afflicted townfolk what mercy I could.

The villagers howled.

Conclusion: 'From the church's name, I could assume that Callu must've been the name of this village before it became afflicted. Whoever brought this affliction probably started with the rats. Their bites infected other villagers, and as the madness began to burn away at their minds, they turned to worship the plaguebringers. The baptismal font was discarded in favor of a massive, bloated, mad rat god. The village leader was then given the Flame of Frenzy incantation so he could spread the faith. Morne sent soldiers to contain the threat and keep people away, but their efforts fell to naught due to a hidden hole in the wall.

The frenzy spread. The Confessors that Morne had called in abandoned them. Soldiers from the village were called in and they initiated a massacre, as they too were infected by now. Edgar sent his daughter away, not knowing the frenzy lurked in her retainers. The only ones not afflicted were the Misbegotten. They were resistant, with the Frenzy only creating a sense of malaise in them. Those afflicted were sent behind the castle to recover. They chased down Irina's caravan and massacred her retainers, but left her untouched. At least, until the time was right.

Of course, this is just a conjecture. I could be wrong. But this implies a grand conspiracy of the Frenzied Flame, or at least some unknown malefactor working behind the scenes. Maybe I have a little of that frenzy in me, making me paranoid and conspiratorial.

But there's more at work here than I know.

Who infected the village?

Where did they put the baptismal font?

Where are the Confessors now, if they abandoned this land?

The ritual the ritual the ritual the ritual the ritual

[lumpiya]

Blood Runs Thick | Non-canon Kaeya Scenario

chasm affects kaeya, reader pov, angst story, probably no romantic relationships (depending on how i want this to play out), character deaths but thats later

warnings: none this chapter

Dragonspine is the most dangerous it's ever been. Never thought it could be so dangerous. Although the reason its so is not the mountain itself... but the person who's abode is on it.

The wind howling and the trees rustling as the sky got darker. The mountain in front of all of the Knights of Favonius becoming darker and darker as well.

Whimpers and prayers being heard from the fellow knights beside me. They don't want to do this. No one does. You would be a mad man to think that anyone wants this.

My jaw clenches and takes a difficult breath, tears starting to fill my eyes.

A nudge at my side, breaking me out of my thoughts of dread. The Acting Grand Master flashing a smile to me. The smile was hard to understand, hard to figure out what it actually meant. It had the look of reassurance? Maybe fear? No one could tell. But that look itself told me that I wasn't the only one suffering.

I bite the inside of my cheek and look back in front of me, on the verge of breaking down. I don't want to do this... not to him

At the bottom of the mountain many fatui members come running out. The fatui? Why are they running? I ready my sword and my fellow vision wielders do the same. I see Diluc who is at my right walk forward.

"Diluc wait!" Jean calls out to him. He stops and looks over his shoulder. "They aren't our target. Save your energy."

"My energy won't be drained by amateurs," he says walking forward again. The fatui getting closer and closer. He spins his claymore at the ready to strike.

They run past him.

All of us shocked and watch as they pay no mind to us and run pass.

"They look like they're... in fear..." Eula says.

I swallow, getting a bad feeling from all of this. The fatui agents? Scared of the abyss? How strong are they? What did he do?

I tighten my grip on my sword and walk besides Diluc.

"What did he do...?" he mumbles watching as the fatui cower in fear.

"I have no idea..." I mumble back.

The mountain's fog becomes thicker and darker by the second. Diluc and I watch in awe how fast the fog is changing. We both take a step back as it starts getting larger. Bigger, and bigger, and bigger.

Diluc and I turn around and run back to the knights. "Get back!!" We scream out, waving our arms. The knights scream and run back but the captains stay put.

"Get close to me!" Jean calls out. I look over my shoulder and the fog getting closer. I look at Diluc and we tuck and roll next to Jean. She puts her sword up and turns the blade, emitting a gush of anemo around us, clearing out the fog, almost like a ward.

"Are you guys okay!?" Barbara asks with worry, kneeling down at me and Diluc, checking if we're hurt.

"We're fine... Thank you," I reply to her, giving her a small smile and she gives one back.

I get up and see the fog gone. "What...?" I whisper.

"What is going on?!" Amber exclaims.

"Heads up!" Lisa calls. Feint noises come from the mountain, where the fog still lays. "Here they come."

Diluc and I get our weapons ready once more. Jean turns around and see the knights running back towards us. "What is going on grand master?" one of them ask.

"All of us have no idea. But get ready... they're coming."

The knights get back into position.

The noises of the abyss mages and churls start getting clear and louder. Where the fog dispersed, a couple churls and mages come out at a time.

We take them out with ease but they keep coming. More each time. Soon enough tens and tens come at a time, it getting harder to keep up.

I swipe my sword taking out every enemy. Dodging and jumping, using my vision.

The waves of hilichurls slow down but 2 glowing lights shine through the purple fog. Almost like tiny little fairy lights that are floating in the air, or the way angler fish use the light as bait.

The lights start come into view, seeing what shape they came in. Stars. Perfect diamonds. One higher than the other.

"What is that...?" Eula asks, slowly walking up to my side.

All of us captains stare in awe as the hilichurls scream and squeal. The 2 lights move forward slowly but surely, finally revealing the 3 men who we were trying to stop.

The look on his face. That intimidating smile, his sword glowing a deep dark purple, and his eye... his eye. I can finally see it.

-----

"No it certainly does not." I say laughing and walking up the stairs of the Knights of Favonius Headquarters.

"I can promise you it does." My best friend says, walking beside me.

"So you're saying, if I climb up the Anemo Archon's statue, go to the hands, it'll give me eternal luck?" I send a little wave towards Porthos and Athos. They smile and salute to me and Kaeya.

"Yes!" The blue haired man replies to me.

"And how would you know this?"

"Why must you ask so many questions?" his voice dropping low, as it usually does when he's trying to be slick. He kindly opens the door and gestures to let me in first.

"I want to know if you climbed the Anemo Archon's statue." I say smirking at him.

"And what would you do if I did? Huh?"

"Well I bet you Victoria from the Cathedral would love to hear that news."

"How do you know she wasn't the one who told me?" He says smirking back.

My eyes widen at him. Victoria?? The sister who's willing to give her life and soul to the Anemo Archon? She would never want to climb something so precious to the City of Freedom.

"You're such a liar." I giggle and climb up the stairs to get to the captains offices.

"Am not."

I walk to the door of my office and unlock it. Kaeya follows shortly behind. I sit down at my desk and look at the files that were placed on my desk.

Kaeya walks around the room, making himself at home. Touching all the books on the shelves.

I open a file and see a document titled, "Hilichurls sighting in the Chasm." I look at the paper confused, taking it out of the folder.

Kaeya looks over at me, seeing the confusion on my face. "What's going on now? No more dandelion wine for the Habor?" He walks over to my desk.

"No..." I say, concentrating on the letter.

Dear the Captains of Mondstadt,

I hope this letter finds you well, despite the concern the subject may bring up. I'm writing to let you all know that Hilichurls have been coming from the direction of your city nonstop for a couple of days. I don't know if you have noticed but the Hilichurls aren't attacking anyone, they're just walking. I've sent some soldiers to follow them carefully. They've reported that they have been heading to the mouth of the Chasm. The chasm has been closed for a while. Something might be going down in the mines. I don't expect any of you to do anything because of it since none of it is in your hands. But I wanted to ask if you all could be on standby for Liyue citizen evacuation. To be extra cautious, we want to have a protocol in case something massive happens. Please send a letter back if you have any concerns or questions; or you can always visit us. Thank you.

- The Liyue Qixing

Hilichurls? Heading towards the Chasm? Not attacking? Nothing is making sense at all...

"The mines of Liyue..." Kaeya quietly whispers from behind me. "What do you think is going on?"

"I have no clue..." I say putting down the paper and looking through the file some more.

I find a letter that says "To the Economics Captain of the Knights of Favonius" It looks like Keqing's handwriting. Keqing is the person I go to when I have questions or concerns about the delivery of different Mondstadt and Liyue specialties. I've gotten close to her these past couple years.

Hello Y/n. Hopefully you have gotten the letter written by Ningguang about the whole Hilichurls heading to the Chasm situation. You don't have to worry about the supply count in case we have an emergency evacuation. I have everything covered. I sent this in case you had questions about that. I figured you would because you're always so concerned about the well being of everyone around you. But again, I have everything covered. Don't stress about it.

Keqing

"Thank the archons for Keqing." I sigh out in relief.

I hear Kaeya laugh from behind me. "Let me guess. Your main concern about this entire thing was supplies for Mondstadt and Liyue's people."

I roll my eyes and smile a little. "I mean yes. I am the Economics and Supplies Captain. I need to make sure we have enough things for everyone. Beds, food, herbs, all of that. I'm the person who coordinates that kind of stuff. If I failed to do that, what do you think Varka would do??"

"Well for one, Varka isn't here. And for two, you have other captains to help you, you know?"

I slouch in my desk chair. "I guess." I drop my voice quiet.

Kaeya laughs at me. "So. The hilichurls..."

"Yeah I have no idea." I say sitting back up and running through the files, to see if there's anything else from Liyue. Everything else that was in the file was things actually involving economics. "There's something going on in the Chasm... I wonder what's going on down there."

"Me too, and so does everyone of Liyue." Another voice enters the conversation.

Me and Kaeya look over at the door and see the Acting Grand Master walking into the room.

"Jean!" I say, slightly annoyed because she scared me.

She laughs, "Didn't mean to scare you."

She makes her way over to the door and greets Kaeya with a nod. "I needed to see you. Knew you'd be here in Y/n's office."

I watch Kaeya shift a bit. "You know me Acting Grand Master." he laughs. "So, what's up."

"Just some things I need coordinated for the possible evacuation of Liyue. I didn't want Y/n doing it since she already had a lot on her plate. Since you have nothing to do..." Jean explains. I snicker at him, knowing that Grand Master Varka took all the Calvary on the expedition he's on.

Kaeya looks down, glaring at me a little. "Well, as you said, I'm all free." He walks to the other side of the desk. Jean guides him out of my office while explaining to him what he needs to do. They both give me a little wave as they walk out.

Well... there's a lot going on right now. But it's nothing I can't handle. And as Kaeya said, I have others here to help me. I don't have to take all of this alone.

-----

The long and draining day was finally over. I had to send suppliers to the borders of Liyue, and Fontaine back and forth. We got a lot of goods and we sent them. A usual day of being the economics captain.

I head towards the Angel's Share, where me and Kaeya usually meet after a long days work. I open the wooden doors and see Sister Rosaria sitting down at the counter, drink already in hand. Diluc, on the other side of the counter pour a glass of bright red liquid into a cup.

"Captain Y/n" Diluc greets me as I walk in.

"Master Diluc." I greet back. I take a seat next to Rosaria, who looks at me and sends me a small nod. I smile back at her.

Our usually group here after a usual Mondstadt day.

"Where's the goon?" Rosaria asks me.

I laugh at the nickname, "I don't know actually. Jean sent him out on a job that would usually go to me but I had loads to do today."

"How hard is your job exactly? Would be rough on a Calvary Captain who has no Calvary?" Diluc asks, sliding the drink on the counter as someone grabs it.

I laugh at his question. "Well, I don't know how much I'm able to say. But lets just say it was different than the usual."

"What do you mean?" Rosaria buts in.

"Again, I don't know if I'm able to say. But I'm pretty sure Kaeya had to run back and forth a whole bunch."

I hear Diluc cough while rubbing a light brown towel around a glass, drying it from the excess water. 

Behind me and Rosaria we here the Angel Share doors open. I turn around, expecting to see Kaeya but I see the small bard that performs here once and a while.

"Why hello citizens of Mondstadt!" He cheerfully greets everyone in the tavern. I hear Rosaria sigh next me. I smirk at her, knowing how much she hates the loud noise in the tavern, especially this late at night.

"Venti, why are you here?" Diluc sternly asks.

"Oh-ho-ho Master Diluc already being feisty!" He walks up to the counter next to me. "My usual please."

Diluc rolls his eyes and grabs a cup. "So, where is the other one who always joins you?" Venti asks.

"He isn't here yet." Rosaria speaks up. I turn to her, surprised. She actually spoke up to him! Every time he comes in here she's so quiet. One time she left without telling anyone and I didn't even know she left. She didn't speak that entire time when Venti was on the stage spitting his rhythms and rhymes.

"I wonder what the Grand Master had him doing today that would make him so late to his favorite time of day?" Venti asks cheerfully as always.

I chuckle a little bit imagine Kaeya doing my job. My job is quite a lot if I do say so myself. Compared to a Captain who has no Calvary to captain, it's a bit much.

"Hey Master Diluc, can I get a sparking berry juice please?" I say politely.

"Coming right up," he says with his usual monotone voice.

Rosaria and I converse a little, about our usual daily routines. Rosaria quiet, but always listens to my stories. We sip our drinks here and there as we listen and ask questions.

I hear the door to the Angel's Share open, I turn around a see a familiar tall blue haired man with an eye patch on his right eye. He looked absolutely exhausted. I couldn't help but laugh at the unusual site.

"Oh my!" Venti says, seeing Kaeya's overworked face.

Kaeya lazily walks over to the counter and takes a seat next to me. I laugh at him. "Is my job really that hard?"

He sighs and looks at Diluc, almost sending him a telepathy command to get him a Death in the Afternoon. "You have to do that every day?" he looks at me with a slight frown.

I smile and laugh a bit more. "That depends, what did Jean have you do?"

"I had to walk all over this city sending goods from shop to shop!" he slouches over the counter and runs his gloved hands over his face, "I had to go from the Cathedral to Schuzl's Blacksmith, to Good Hunter, to Dawn Winery, to Angel's share, and then back to the Cathedral! That's not even all of it!"

I tilt my head with a small smirk. "Yep. Every. Single. Day."

His head shoots up and stares at me in shock. "Noooo... How are you able to find free time to walk with me??"

"I don't, you just hold me back a little bit. Why do you think our conversations are so short on duty?"

He puts his head down on the counter and groans.

"You're just used to not doing much Captain." Rosaria butts in.

I laugh and I watch Kaeya flip the bird to both of us.

"And Kaeya, I hope you know, that I have to walk to Liyue back and forth sometimes too." I add on, throwing a hand on his back.

I hear him groan some more.

"Here," Diluc says to Kaeya, places his drink in front of him.

"Thank you," Kaeya says tiredly. He brings the cup to his lips and chugs the entire thing.

"Woah!! Slow down," I chuckle.

Suddenly Kaeya drops the glass, causing it to shatter onto the counter.

"Kaeya!!" Diluc yells at him. Me and Rosaria look at Kaeya concerned.

The blue haired man starts writhing in pain. He tries to stand up but his legs seemed too weak to carry him around. He stumbles left and right, gritting his teeth through the pain, holding his head like it was about to fall off of his shoulders. 

I shoot out of my chair and grab onto Kaeya, trying to keep him stable. "Kaeya! What's going on?!" I look over at Diluc and he was just concerned as I was. "Was it the drink?!" I scream, not meaning to. Panic takes over me, seeing my best friend in pain all of a sudden. 

"I made it like I usually do!" Diluc says jumping over the counter and grabbing onto Kaeya as well. Kaeya still hissing in pain, somehow still toppling over even though Diluc and I were holding on to him. 

"Rosaria go get Jean!" I scream at her. She darts out of the tavern and runs towards the Knights of Favonius Headquarters as fast as she can. 

Venti walks up to us calmly. "Venti what are you-!" I scream at him as he reaches out to Kaeya's squirming body. A bright green light emits from his finger tips. His long braids starting to glow.  

Venti's fingers slowly reach out to Kaeya, finally touching his skin. 

The bard suddenly hisses in pain and pulls his hand away from Kaeya. He stumbles back and grabs his hurt wrist. I look over at him and a purple aura slowly fades from his fingers. I look at Venti's face and see the panic starting to grow. 

"Venti!" I yell, trying to get him back in his head. 

His breath starts getting heavy and his eyes shaking back and forth. He rushes out of the tavern without a trace, a small gust of wind behind him. 

Diluc looks up at the other people of Mondstadt who were in the tavern, watching this entire scene unfold. "It's not safe right now, leave!" They all hustle, leaving the building. 

"Kaeya what is going on!?" I say, trying to get any kind of answer out of him. No answer, just the hisses and whimpers of pain. 

His breath suddenly lets out, relieved sounding. Diluc and I look at him, seeing any signs of pain still. It just looked like he was coming out of it. 

"Kaeya?" I whisper.

His breath still heavy but the sounds of pain were gone. I frantically scan his face for anymore signs of pain. He stares down at the wooden floor the tavern, face filled with fear. I look up at Diluc and we make eye contact. Both of us concerned and confused...

—————

[kahran042]

Some cool words

absolute

abyss

adamant

adjudicate

angel

apex

apocalypse

arcane

arsenic

astral

asylum

athame

axis

azimuth

azure

bane

barrier

beyond

blaze

bleak

blight

blizzard

calamity

carnage

cascade

cataclysm

cathedral

celestial

central

chalice

chaos

charisma

checkpoint

chronicle

chrysalis

citadel

codex

conflict

conquest

contact

core

cosmic

council

covenant

crisis

crimson

crossfire

crusader

crypt

cyclone

dagger

deception

desolate

despair

destiny

devil

dire

disaster

dolorous

doom

dragon

durian

dusk

ebony

eclipse

edge

electric

elegy

ember

enigma

ephemeral

equinox

eternal

evanescent

eventide

execute

exodus

extreme

fandango

fang

fate

fathom

flux

forge

frontier

frost

future

galaxy

gallows

garland

gaunt

genesis

gleam

glyph

gorge

gravity

grimoire

gunmetal

haven

hazard

helix

heretic

horizon

howl

hurricane

impulse

intense

isolation

jagged

jet

knife

kraken

lachrymose

lament

lethal

lightning

luminous

luster

madness

maelstrom

malachite

malice

mandrake

marquis

matrix

metropolis

mirage

mistral

monitor

mortal

mote

nemesis

nexus

nightmare

nocturne

obelisk

oblivion

omen

onyx

ordeal

pagan

pain

pale

paradise

passion

penance

peril

phantom

phoenix

pinnacle

point

portent

precipice

predator

pulse

quasar

radius

rapier

rapture

ravage

raven

razor

repose

requiem

revolution

saber

sanguine

scathe

scorn

scorpion

scourge

selection

seraph

serenity

serpent

shade

shard

sigil

signal

sine

sinister

slash

slaughter

sonata

sonic

spectre

stealth

steel

stinger

storm

strife

subjugate

sublime

syndrome

tempest

tenebrous

terminus

thorn

threnody

titanium

torch

torrent

toxic

trance

tranquility

twilight

typhoon

vagrant

valor

vector

venom

vertigo

vigil

vindicate

viridian

vitriol

void

volatile

vortex

warlock

wayfarer

wicked

winter

xebec

xenon

zeal

zenith

zero

zinc

zone