#meadow dweller

[earthworms-worm]

I'm posting this here and now because I'm going to be in the Netherlands visiting my brother for a week, so have a comic I made in two and a half days because I had an idea and couldn't stop lol

The creatures on the bridge have a mother that is considered an Old God in their universe, (her design may change in the future, but this is what I've got so far). The words for the comic were borrowed from a song I listened to a few weeks ago and I went "huh, I could use that", anyway, enjoy!

[so-mordor-itis]

Because this mf won't leave my mind, have this:

--

"If you're attempting to trick me into believing you're asleep," drawls Astarion to your dismay, "it's failing poorly."

You don't have to open your eyes to know the look on the vampire's face. Smug. His ego is rising every passing second. The idea makes the skin under your eyelid twitch.

You weren't attempting anything. The gods' above know you were actually trying to sleep. However, the terrain beneath your spine argued otherwise. Like the man who spoke above you, you were a city dweller. Rocky mountains, deep meadows, bellowing caves crawling with a different variety of creatures, and other parts of this area aren't in your realm of comfort. You are getting used to it just as much as he is.

"As much as I enjoy our little spouts of banter, Astarion," you say, annoyance lacing your tone--you truly hope to make it as obvious as you can--"I would rather sleep."

His smirk is still there. You can feel it, and it annoys you that some part of you finds it endearing.

You hear footsteps approach before pausing. "Sometimes I wonder how you've managed so far. You are aware of the smoother patches of land just next to your feet?"

You will kill him one of these days. You swear it.

"Let me relish in my misery."

He snorts. "Don't you partake in it everyday?"

"Piss off."

"Are you sure you want that? Isn't my lovely voice luring you into slumber?"

"It's giving me a headache."

"You wound me."

"Good. Maybe I'll say it more often." You finally allow one eye to open. You observe his form, the way it is towering over where you currently lie. Despite his smirk, there's a small level of concern in those deep ruby eyes.

"I was simply suggesting you should shuffle over a little so your back won't hurt in the morning, but you are incredibly stubborn."

"I'll show you stubborn."

"Oh?"

You want to regret your innuendo, but you don't.

[spacebarbarianweird]

The Dead, the Half-Dead and the Undead

Synopsis: Baby Alethaine is ten and, apparently, the thing she is a dhampir isn't the only problem Astarion and Tiriel have to face.

Tags: dadstarion, dhampirs, necromancy

Alethaine's age: 10

Thanks @queenofthespacesquids for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion immerses himself in one of his books. It is a complex text that has been written by some ancient magic who had probably been completely insane

Necromancy is an interesting subject, but damn difficult for those without an innate aptitude for it.

It's still midday, but out there in the underground part of Daggerlake, it doesn't matter. The city is divided into two parts, above ground and underground. The city is mostly populated

by dwarves, halflings, and humans but for some reason it feels like home for Astarion.

Besides, the town dwellers had decided they'd better have a vampire of their own than be threatened by other undead.

Astarion is still puzzled by this. Yes, these people should be grateful to him and Tiriel for saving them from a particularly nasty fairy pact. But letting them stay? Tiriel, a half-elven warrior, is one thing, but him, a vampire? Do they really want to share the town with him?

But they are fine. They treat him like others would treat some retired wizard or a former mercenary. But he knows he must be careful - one mistake and the neighbors will remember who Astarion truly is and that there is a reason why he never goes to the upper town in the daylight.

And there is a complication Astarion always has to take into account.

“Dad! Dad!”

Astarion looks up and sees ten-year-old Alethaine. She is upside down, but the hem of her dress brushes the ceiling, ignoring gravity. There's a bit of forest dirt on the girl's shoes, and he can distinguish the smell of wood.

“I told you not to go alone,” Astarion says. When she was younger, Astarion often found it difficult to parent her. The moment she asked something or started crying, he was ready to do anything just to make her feel better. It took him time to get a grip and establish boundaries. He is her father. If he wants the best for her, he has to be strict sometimes. Even if the response is tears and anger. 

“I didn’t go to the woods! I was in the meadow. It’s still in the town!”

Fair enough. The meadow is a favorite place for town kids since it is indeed the forest but their asses won’t get whooped by their parents.

“So, what is it, princess?”

Alethaine jumps on the floor with a soft “thump” and she inclines toward him making direct eye contact. Astarion still wonders sometimes if her eyes black because his eyes used to be, too, or because of her dhampirism. 

Dhampir.

Half-undead. Does Alethaine even understand what it truly means to her? Town kids don’t really care and adore her ability to walk on ceilings and steal sweets for them. But will it last long? She is ten. When she and her friends grow up, they will notice things that make her different. Will they start fearing her the same way town dogs start howling if Alethaine or Astarion pass by? Will they avoid her? Will they force her out of town to go seek her own kind?

“I want a kitten.”

“Princess, last time I checked cats don’t really like us, either.”

Alethaine sits beside him and forces him to close the book. “No, you don’t understand! A week ago, I found a kitten! She didn’t like me at first but I’ve been bringing her food. And today Wyv let me hold her! She doesn’t mind me at all!”

“Wyv?” 

“She is albino! She has red eyes and white fur! I think she went missing from her litter. Or maybe her mother's cat forced her to go. Please! Pretty please! She is so tiny, she won’t make it on her own! And I will take care of her!”

Alethaine stares at him with puppy eyes and her elven ears twitch with anticipation.

“Mum won’t mind, she will be happy there is an animal that doesn’t react to me as if I am some evil entity!”

“Princess, there is a very big chance this poor creature will run away once it senses me in the house. Last time I checked I am still undead.”

“And I am half-undead! Wyv got used to me, she will get used to you, too!”

Astarion flicks the tip of her nose. “But if your mother asks, you forced me to say “yes”.

Alethaine squeals and wraps her hands around his neck forcing him to drop the book. Astarion chuckles when he feels the soft prickling of her teeth on his skin. 

“I will be right back!” Alethaine rushes outside, slamming the door.

He had 200 years of pure misery and it still hurts him to see how much was taken from him. But then… Thirty years of something else. Something he hadn’t wished to have.

A woman to hold and to love who is brave enough to trust and care. 

Fifteen years of adventures, when they could go wherever they wanted and do whatever they desired. Then, they were offered to stay in Daggerlake, a small town near the Unicorn Rim.

Home was a concept unfamiliar to both of them and Tiriel sometimes begged him to return to the road.

But he was adamant. He needed a home. He needed a place to stay. To own. He wanted a place to stash all the artifacts and books they'd found, a comfortable bed to sleep and make love. 

Tiriel wanted it, too, though didn’t admit it.

And five years later the thing he’d least expected happened.

He barely remembers how it was - he was so drunk on blood, he felt his undead heart beating. Then he found Tiriel and dragged her home to pin her to the bed.

As a result…

Alethaine.

His daughter. His flesh and blood. 

Sometimes he treats Alethaine as a matter of course. Most men in Daggerlake have children, and usually more than one. But sometimes Astarion gets distracted and forgets where he is, and only comes back to reality when Alethaine taps him on the shoulder and then Astarion looks at her in awe, wondering how he even deserves her.

Ten years. Such a tiny piece of time but Alethaine’s whole life. Astarion can already see the woman she is becoming. The woman he will be proud of, the woman who will have the freedom he had to fight for.

Suddenly, Astarion realizes Alethaine has been missing for far too long. The meadow isn’t really far away and it’s already sunset - Astarion feels it.

Astarion locks the house and goes looking for his daughter.

It's already night when he gets to the meadow. Alethaine is there sitting on her knees with her head bowed.

“Alethaine, what did we talk about not being outside after sunset?”

She doesn’t answer. Astarion comes closer and sees that her face is red as if she has just stopped crying.

“Princess, what happened?” 

“It’s my fault” she sniffs. “I should have taken her with me right away,” her shoulders tremble and Alethaine bursts into tears once again.

Astarion kneels beside her, not knowing what to do. He still hasn’t learned how to react to her tears properly - so he does the only thing that works all the time with both her and Tiriel and also works for him.

He hugs her.

Through her muffled cries Astarion manages to understand that the albino kitten got out of the shelter and someone kicked her with such effort she died instantly. Now the kitten’s body lies in a small hole in the ground with her mouth wide open and stains of blood on the white fur.

'It's not your fault, it’s the fault of whoever did this, not yours.’

“No, you don’t understand! I could have taken her with me! If you had said “no”, I would have given her to the neighbors! And now she is dead! She is dead because of me!” Now Alethaine almost screams with all the sorrow a ten-year-old girl is capable of.

Astarion hugs his daughter tighter. He often stays with her on his own when Tiriel leaves to do some adventuring job - and usually, Astarion has no trouble. But right now the only thing he needs is for Tiriel to be at home. Because she can find the right words. She always can. Because what exactly does he need to tell Alethaine? It’s the first time she’s witnessed death. And it was the vilest example possible. 

An innocent creature was killed for fun. 

Well, maybe he should find that person and break their legs. It won’t help but maybe it will make Alethaine feel better. 

“Alethaine, let’s go home.” 

Alethaine doesn’t answer. 

“Princess, come on,” he repeats.

His vampiric senses feel that something is wrong. As if something eerie, and unnatural has started to happen.

Astarion glances at the dead kitten.

Then the kitten moves.

“What in hell…,” he mutters. 

It opens its eyes which glow an unnatural green color. The paws twitch, and the mouth opens showing small fangs. 

“Dad! Look! Wyv is alive! She was just wounded! And I thought she was dead!” Alethaine exclaims, grabbing the dead kitten. “We need to show her to the healer!”

Alethaine’s eyes glow with the same eerie shade of green.

Necromancy.

Alethaine has just used the “Rise Animal” spell.

A spell so difficult it takes mages years to learn it. 

Alethaine drops the dead kitten on the ground as if it were a poisonous snake.

“No… What is wrong with her, Dad?”

The kitten immediately sits up and freezes. Waiting for orders. 

“She is dead, isn’t she?” Alethaine sniffs. The kitten doesn't move, staring at her with its resurrected eyes.

Necromancer. If being a dhampir wasn't enough for her. Necromancers have always been outcasts with their abilities to raise the dead and cast the darkest of spells.

Alethaine is one of them. Twice an outcast.

“Alethaine '' Astarion makes her face him. “Listen to me carefully. There must be strings, connecting you with the kitten. Like a puppet doll. You need to cut them.”

“But she will die”

“It is already dead. it’s not a life. Put it to rest.”

Alethaine wipes tears and the weird glowing fades. Alethaine concentrates, looks at her hands, and then makes a movement with her fingers as if she were tearing threads.

The dead kitten falls on the ground like a puppet.

Alethaine sits down tired and exhausted. Resurrecting a creature, even small animals, is a difficult spell requiring much energy even from adult mages. For a ten year old it’s the equivalent of hiking in the mountains. 

Astarion takes Alethaine in their hands.

“Dad?”

“Hm?”

“Will you and mum still love me if I am a necromancer?”

“Of course, we will.”

“You can’t get necrotic damage, can you?”

“Well, I am very undead myself. So fear not, you won’t harm me even accidentally”

“And mum? She is mortal, she can get hurt.”

Astarion sighs. Damn, ‘Tiriel should come back sooner, I can’t answer all those questions’.

“You won’t hurt her. Don’t worry.”

Silence. The little dhampir doesn’t believe him. Alethaine sniffs again.

“Did it hurt when you were resurrected?”

Astarion has to make an effort to keep himself composed. It is still traumatic. Still hurts. Two hundred years of pain. Tortures. Isolation. Transformation.

“I am a vampire, not a ghoul. Ghouls don’t feel anything. They are already dead. you resurrected the flesh but Wyv didn’t feel anything.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am. Alethaine, promise me you won't try to practice alone, all right? No one must know you are a necromancer. People won’t understand. ”

The rest of the walk home is passed in silence. That evening Alethaine refuses to eat, and all attempts to cheer her up fail. She's heartbroken and scared, and whatever is weighing on her mind, she just can't process it. 

He needs to think something up. The sooner, the better. Before Alethaine harms herself or someone in the town.

**

Alethaine can't sleep. 

It's been a week and she feels terrible. There are whispers on the edge of her mind, dark and frightening, they call to her, they promise her something. 

Alethaine can't shut them up.

She sees threads stretching from her fingers to the dead animals. Worse, she feels the threads leading to living people.

Cause them necrotic damage, the darkness whispers. It is going to be fun! Strike fear in them, make them scream, make them cry! And drink their blood if that’s to your liking!

Tiriel didn’t say anything when she heard what had happened. But Alethaine sees uneasiness in her eyes. Of course, she is afraid! There are strings attached to her as well, one or two necrotic spells and she is dead!

Astarion left two days later - he said he would try to look for something. Alethaine cried and begged to take her with him, but he refused. 

Alethaine has locked herself in her room, barely leaving. But the silence and solitude are the fuel for nightmares. For the darkness. For tempting whispers.

The little dhampir gets out of her bed and goes to her parents’ bedroom. Tiriel is fast asleep under a blanket. Peaceful and quiet.

Alethaine fumbles at the door. She is ten, not three! She is too old to sleep with her mother. But the thought of spending one more night alone with those whispers feels awful.

“Kitten? Are you alright?”

“Mum… can… I…”

“Come here.”

Alethaine gets under the blanket and her mother’s arms immediately wrap around her.

“I am afraid,” Alethaine finally admits. 

“I know, Kitten. Dad will think something up.”

“What if I hurt you while he is away?”

“You won’t”

“How can you know that? I am a necromancer!” 

Alethaine turns around to see her mother’s face. 

“Alethaine, you are also a dhampir and I don’t remember you ever trying to drain me. And you’ve had your fangs since you were five months old.”

Alethaine relaxes and hugs mother back. 

“Mum, did you always know dad was a vampire?”

“Hm, I learned it on the third day I think. Woke up to him trying to bite me. He is lucky I’d already liked him.”

“And you weren’t afraid to be with him?”

“No. Your father was a troubled person, not easy to handle. But he was worth it. I know you are scared. People don’t take it easy when someone can cast dark spells. But it doesn’t mean you have to be alone or be a bad person, even if it’s expected. You will meet people who will accept you for who you are. Who will love you. One of the kindest men I knew was a warlock with a devil pact. Things aren’t always what they seem.”

Your mother’s blood is so warm! You’ve tasted it once, remember? When you were dying of bloodlust! Bite her, take what is rightfully yours!

As if hearing the intrusive thoughts, Tiriel hugs her daughter tighter. 

“Whatever happens, we will always be with you. We will help you, we will support you, and no matter what happens, you can always trust us. Even if you do something really bad. ”

Alethaine sniffs and buries her nose in her mother’s neck. 

The darkness steps away, and the girl falls asleep.

She doesn’t have nightmares for the first time that week.

“Alethaine,” she feels a soft tap on her shoulder. “Wake up.”

Alethaine opens her eyes and sees she is still in her parents’ bed. Tiriel, fully dressed, stands at the doors.

“Hm?”

“Dad is back. Could you go down to the basement?”

Alethaine, still half asleep, dresses up and goes down. Her senses immediately tell her Astarion isn’t alone. 

“Hello, princess,” Astarion strokes her head the moment she gets closer.

A man in a dirty red robe sits on the wooden bench. His head is bald and his right eye is missing. Instead, there is a blue gemstone with intricate runes. 

“Astarion, don’t you tell me she is a dhampir.”

“Oh, she very much is! Alethaine, this is Nris. He is going to be your teacher.”

“Astarion, I deeply appreciate you for saving me from that devil but I am not morally ready to teach a dhampir necromancy!”

“I doubt you will be able to pay me. My services are expensive. And I can always sell you back to the devils. I need you to teach my daughter necromancy. End of story.”

“For fuck sake… How old are you?”

Alethaine steps back. “T-ten”

“Fuck, this is the worst age ever! In a year she will hit puberty and it’s bad even without dhampirism and necromancy!”

Alethaine looks at her father.

“Dad, I don't like him.”

“He is a necromancer, princess. People aren’t supposed to like them.”

“Astarion, I knew I shouldn’t have made deals with you! A devil is better than a vampire! At least with devils, I know what to expect! Alethaine, you know what your father did? He took advantage of my desperate situation and forced me to make a pact with him.”

“Nris, don’t be stupid. It’s a working agreement!” Astarion grins. “And I can summon your former master any time, and, I fear, this time he will be harsher on you.”

Nris curses again, and Alethaine makes a note to use one of the slurs next time she gets into a fight. 

The necromancer stretches his right hand, covered in weird tattoos. “Come here, Alethaine.”

Nris sends a shiver down her spine, but Astarion only nudges his daughter slightly, forcing her to approach the mage.

“Dhampir, necromancer, and all this with Fey blood. You did pick the wild cards out of Tasha’s cauldron. What exactly did you do to make your father save my ass from the devils?”

“I-I revived a kitten.”

Nris flinches. “I hate sorcerers to my guts! I’ve spent decades learning how to revive small animals - and you did it just like that! But good for you that you didn’t resurrect a human because if you had, the townsfolk would have burnt you alive. I was trying to make the darkness talk to me and it still doesn’t answer back but it calls upon you like an old friend. Life is truly unfair, Alethaine Ancunin.”

Alethaine is silent, unable to stop staring at the gemstone in the eye socket. The runes move resembling trapped flies. 

“Very well, let’s start from learning the basics!”

**

Astarion leaves the basement. When he glances back he sees Alethaine drawing runes on the floor while Nris is giving her the lecture.

Astarion is tired. He didn’t have time to rest during the week, and besides, the worry of leaving a ten-year-old necromancer who didn’t understand how to control her powers alone with Tiriel plagued him like a nightmare.

Nris doesn’t look like the most decent or talented mage but he is bound to him by a pact and doesn’t have any desire to return to the devils. So, he is going to live in the secret basement under their house and teach Alethaine as much as he can. 

Wild cards out of Tasha’s dungeon. Yes, that’s true. An unlikely child with dangerous skills. 

Astarion finds Tiriel in the inner yard, throwing axes into the wooden wall. He approaches her and hugs them from behind, placing his chin on her shoulder.

“Tired?” she asks.

“Can I take your blood?”

She touches his curls with her tender fingers. “Of course.”

Astarion indulges his fangs in her neck. Blood streams down his throat, calming him down. Tiriel falters. He immediately releases her neck and takes her in his hands to carry Tiriel to the bedroom.

When they get there they lie together on the bed, their fingers intertwined. Due to sharpened hearing Astarion feels a distant echo from the basement. It seems like Alethaine and Nris have started a screaming match.

“You really didn’t warn him, did you?” Tiriel asks, drawing invisible symbols on his back.

“Maybe. Kind of.”

“Well, at least I won’t be the only mortal in the house.”

“Tiriel, don’t make him your drinking pal, I beg you!” Astarion laughs.

“What? A mug of ale after a difficult day hasn't hurt anyone yet.” Tiriel touches the tip of his ear. “Meditate. I will be with you.”

Astarion nods. Thirty years of happy memories are enough to give him bliss. He concentrates and lets the flow of memories take him to reverie.

Astarion holds Alethaine for the first time. A newborn girl is probably still in pain after being pushed into the world. He hears her fast heartbeat as her living heart pumps half-undead blood through her veins.

He cradles her in his arms. Alethaine is so warm, so delicate, so innocent. It’s not yet clear if she is a dhampir but Astarion knows he loves her. It’s a different form of affection, unknown to him. A selfless love for a child, a desire to make sure she won’t endure the same hardships as he did.

And she must not know.

Astarion gives himself a promise. His daughter will never know about his past. it will never taint her. The pain, the touches, the humiliation, the violence - she will not know a word of it. 

Her mindset will be free of that dirt and of that darkness. He won’t pass it. 

“Thank you, my love,” Astarion whispers. “This is a gift.”

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume

[midgetmoth]

{ Master Post - RQ1 }

[ First Art Request - Starlight AU ] This is my first event done for the Starlight AU. I will be listing the Creators/Owners along with other details. --------------------------------------------------------- Species: Those with wings: Sky Dwellers Those with no back legs and have long tails: Cave Dwellers Those with fins but have back legs: Shore Dwellers Those with fins but no back legs: Ocean Dwellers Those with just feline-like ears/antlers: Land Dwellers Those of Hollow Heads do not apply to the species above, since they are "Creator Made" and blessed with different abilities. These Hollows have been shaped to fit the powers given to them, followed by how they act naturally. ---------------------------------------------------------

@thesecondlight-luna In depths they sing, a song to lure any who dare swim deep into where they dwell. A body so long that no one can view its end. How long have they hunted in such darkness, and how many are they willing to take to grow even more?

---------------------------------------------------------

@fusciaguardian Coat as hot as embers, flowing like candlelight flame. The moving mass of swirling smoke disappears into the forest like a wildfire gone rouge. Such heat catches on the grass, burning at its edges. So strange, for the dangerous beast never glows.

---------------------------------------------------------

@thechaoticsaisk

Over trees they fly, gathering at what fruits linger in the branches no other can reach. Oh, how they wander the endless seas of tall greens, always to feast on the brightest of fruits.

---------------------------------------------------------

@reptilia0freptiles In dark he stalks, for caves he dwells without worry. All hear his roar fear his wrath to follow, although they know this beast is barely their size. Size doesn't matter, only it's spirit it holds.

---------------------------------------------------------

@ignus-moth  In overgrown forests they roam, a coat stained with green. Moss had taken shelter along their strands of pink, but would it aid them both? Indeed, it would, for such a color brings a new form of hunting prey.

---------------------------------------------------------

@filiadraws

In depths I linger, I lure, I feast. Will you ever view my sight, or will you meet my jaws as so many brave preys had so mindlessly wandered into? How naive of you to think you can ever view such a sight as I.

---------------------------------------------------------

@sketchingstuff0

In shallows others wallow as all the food has been swallowed. Fat and happy lay a seal of a stick, joyful with their hunt that has left all others saddened. Suppose they should have hunted just a little faster!

---------------------------------------------------------

@multifanforever The caves creak, the sky roars, the rain pours down below and drowns the cold stone. Yet as the clouds cry, two rest alone in dens below. Warmed only by their love and calming purrs among the thunder... and along with them, rests a lesser kin. Soft breaths and shut eyes, a simple born pup among a warm, protected den.

---------------------------------------------------------

@s0lie

Shallow shores I bathe in light, but upon danger I flee as if flight. Waves they crash, yet I only crave the trees. The packs call to me, the herds swarm near my body of water. Shall I follow, or wallow away within the safety?

---------------------------------------------------------

@shoechomper

Terror of storms, nightmare in daylight. We beware the skies and fear the beast it holds, for the hunter who lingers in the blue is unlike any foretold. For at least those of fire make their presence known to all with calls of embers, unlike this silent hawk of hunger.

---------------------------------------------------------

@armiaochima

In meadows of lavender, I lurk. In day so bright, I bask. My clan they wander with, but yet we rest more then we feast. Such as life for that of careless minds. Plenty of food, surely, we can hunt later.

---------------------------------------------------------

@lunacelestite

Night falls upon the land, so too its dangers. Faced with the task of gathering once more, or see they think. Friendly faces swarm with, lesser birds who follow you close. They sing in warning and tell you of the dangers, for the crows know best to keep their protector alive. You share the spoils, the best to keep your extra eyes happy.

---------------------------------------------------------

@opearle

Blossoms fall with the season, but all they do is fall with them. Follow the petals into the valleys of colors, lingering where trees are most in bloom. Oh, the scents and creatures who flourish, a wonderous place to play.

---------------------------------------------------------

@flairya

One little step, one large leap. A trap set now sprung, how many shall meet this same faint as one who starves? Thought it snake, but it was hunter, lurking the same as other. Poor soul so hungry, now feeding another.

---------------------------------------------------------

@0gingerflake0 

Bound by grace, a stance of stone, mind to ease, eyes to guard. The protector feels no rest, sleep being nothing but myth. The herd that gathers under their wings of might shelter them from such cold predators who stalk too close for their comforts. Dangerous however is no true fear, so long as their angel sent by stars stands with them.

---------------------------------------------------------

@flowerbarrel

River o river, love me so. River o river, protect me so. River o river, give me food, for in return you get my ever-loving protection and care. The creatures take your homes rocks and tear at your soils, but I shall not allow it. My home is you, and you will provide for me as I do you.

---------------------------------------------------------

@small-sparkofhope

The one of winters coat snarled a nasty hiss, "Leave me be" they spoke. Their voice stung of annoyance, their gaze to match their anger. The smaller flowery stripped beast only laughed, "And leave you to wander alone? You think yourself strong in these parts, but this isn't no mountain!". With that, the white creature huffed. Turning their gaze away, I suppose they would have to tolerate this little thing longer then thought.

---------------------------------------------------------

@itsthedemontamer367

The dark sky rips apart into a flurry of glowing fire lights. The eyes of dark green are first seen, then a burning roar screams out. Cold brushed over the land despite the heat from such a being. The Creators had made yet another god, but to what cost but their view of the skies?

---------------------------------------------------------

@thechaoticsaisk

Where now will we wander? Now where will we run? Will the sky still shine as bright with us gone, or should we linger longer? I desire the night as you desire the light, but I wonder if we are even meant to wander so close to the sunsets? Suppose we will see...

---------------------------------------------------------

@sushiree

Desert rattles with twisting blizzards of sand and rock, tornados of wild winds that tear up the earth and rip at the brush that grows. The perfect conditions to feast on what poor souls are ripped from their dens. Only the keenest can survive in the wilds of the sands.

---------------------------------------------------------

@violetthunderstorm

Thunder roars and night turns to day. The strings of light touch the trees and set the world a'light. Fleeing below can't even escape the thunderous roars of the monster who hunts above.

---------------------------------------------------------

@leilanising Long calls echo out into the tall grasses. The herd carries on, their leader strong and carrying on. Their tail leads only prints in the clay and mud, for the strong storms shall guide them.

---------------------------------------------------------

@theofficalrocketcorp

A friend, or foe. They look as I but are far from. How strange a sight, but welcomed as so. Shall you follow me or will I follow you?

---------------------------------------------------------

@hellnahimout

A call, a wonder. A thought, a action. I see the world new in colors, but yet its not new. Why does everyone look at me so differently, is it my coat? I am not truly an eyesore, am I?

---------------------------------------------------------

@jayden-for-now

"Rude of you to fall into my swarm of fish. I was hunting." The fish spoke to the bird. The bird only blew out bubbles in confusion. Sighing, the fish scooped up the bird back to the water's surface. Perhaps this one is a baby fallen from clouds? Who knows, only that it sucks at swimming.

--------------------------------------------------------- I'd like to again thank you all for the requests. The next one will be up in the future. Keep those sticks ready to be thrown my way! <3

[dnpanimationstudioclone]

I know Vaggie’s name has had a lot of discussion for…certain reasons.

A popular rewrite idea for her name has been “Vagabond” which I think would be an interesting name, because of its meaning and what it could mean for her specifically.

Idea. She shortens it to Vaga!

Vaga's an actual name. Means Meadow Dweller in Spanish. Would not only hint to her roots(Salvadorian 🇸🇻) but also connect her a bit to being a moth. U can find them in nature, such as meadows! It’d be a way to keep her name(it’s been around so long I’ve grown used to it so I’m attached to names that start with V, Va or rhymes with it like Maggie) but with a different meaning!

Vaga-No my name isn’t based on Veggietales or Vegemite or you know what, ITS SHORT FOR VAGABOND!

Angel checks up the meaning-…Why would u name yourself that?

Vaga-It’s...complicated.

Vaga also can mean "swooping eagle" or "falling vulture" in Arabic Vega and "travel" in Old Norse.

What do u think? Would u keep her name or would u change it, and what to? I'd love to know💖

[dionysianfreak]

Artemis

wild huntress, shrouded in mist, the stillness within the storm

"Hear me, Daughter of Leto, Celebrated, Noble, Bacchian Queen, rejoicing in Your silver arrows. Torch-bearing Goddess Dictunna, who presides over births and relieves the pain of labor, Divine Maiden, who glories in the Sylvan hunt, Swift and fierce, no one is Your equal with the bow. Wandering by night, reveling in the flowering meadows, Brave and beautiful Nurturer of mortals, Eternal and Earthly, Bane of fell monsters, Dweller in the hills whom the woods and dogs delight. You hunt the stag and give the Earth a store of bounteous fruit to bear. Oh Universal Queen, You flourish in endless youth, Wield the Cydonian Power, Dread Guardian Goddess, With benevolence come to these mystic rites, Send us gentle Peace and Health, and drive disease and care far from us."

— Orphic Hymn 36 To Artemis

[chaifootsteps]

How much do think it would have cost Vivziepop to have Vaggie's real name be Vega instead of everything we got

It means swooping eagle and sometimes falling star (for the angel origin) when used as a name or meadow dweller (meadows where you can find the chimney sweeper moth, a daytime insect) when used as a surname

It has all the letters for the Vaggie nickname

It's the brightest star in the Lyra constellation

And I dunno

It's a real damn name

It's of Arabic origin but has been used in the Latin languages as a name and even as a Spanish surname

And it just took me 5 minute searching on Google to find this name. The show was in the works for years.

Zero dollars. Zero dollars to call her absolutely anything else, although my favorite's still Maggie. That way we could still have a really disgusting scene where Adam's like "That's why I named you after the best thing ever, Vaggie."

[gioiaalbanoart]

ASHLEY KNOX - The scarred angel

Hello there!

I don't have a google doc and I'm not sharing on AO3 yet but I wanted to keep a spot about Ashley Knox and my current wip The scarred angel which I'll update very often.

****

Synopsis book 1 aka TSA/ The scarred angel

Outlaw Ashley Knox and wanna-be journalist Amy Salinas investigate what's going on about the so called "Brina Project" along the US/Mexican border. The Drug Lords from cartels aren't happy with the two women interfering in their business.

*****

Feel free to point things out, leave comments, ask questions, read silently.

Writing snippets and details that are already in use (or will be) and give details about my wip.

*****

OC/WIP AMA Tag or DETAILS in short

****

Writing share / snippets BOOK 1 : Here (CW! ) + here + here + here (CW) + here + Bar Fight + Car chase + Out from the first smuggling tunnel

+

****

Statement (?) - it could be

CHARACTER profile tag

Writing Share/Out of Context Line Tag

Character Voice Tag

Tag Game - Character Voice

15 lines of dialogue

FUN cameo 💗 in honor of Piggles😁 (character by @the-golden-comet)

A bit of drama…(Writing share from book 1)

Character personality tag

Some talk between Ashley Knox and Frank Morales

Voice and some music 🎸🤘🎼🎵

OC Facts Tag

WORDS ASSOCIATION TAG

Unusual Associations Tag

ORIGIN FOR THE NAME*************

I wanted a name that could be both feminine/masculine (even if Ashley has been a woman in my head right away).

It was partially inspired by my endless love for Ash Lynx (MC in Banana Fish) and when I checked the meaning I was definetely up for it : Ashley is a given name which was originally an Old English surname. It is derived from the Old English (Anglo-Saxon) words æsċ (ash) and lēah (clearing, meadow) and translates to "Dweller near the ash tree meadow".

The contrast being that she's not at all in a green smooth sweet environment.

I also wanted something short and smooth, sounds that way to my italian ears.

Her family name Knox came also at first for the sound of it. Then I checked with my subconscius (it wans't that hidden tbh) : it's the family name for Mickey and Mallory Knox from one of my favorite movies ever "Natural born killers"

And since Ashley lives close to drugs cartels it sounded just right for me.

*******

ART

TAG LIST drop a message if you want IN

💗 @wyked-ao3, @tragedycoded @saturnine-saturneight @kaeru483

[barblaz-arts]

The lovely thing about the name Vega (that I googled) is that if it's the last name, it means "dweller in the meadow" or "one who lives on the plain" so earth imagery and with Sora meaning the sky

So they are technically the earth and the sky

But as you mentioned before, Vega is named after the star Vega (cause Wenclair is the Sun and The Moon couple)

so Vega and Sora is the star and the sky

Either interpretation is so much fun to me and I really love it

(Sorry for the weird tangent, I just really love names and their meanings and stuff)

Nah don't apologize! That's actually really cool to know. I adore names with significant meanings, especially when it's related to the characters' whole thing or the plot or their relationship with other characters

[cowboylament]

Around the corner, I found the dining room doors open. I could hear their murmurs. They weren’t displeased, not in any great way, it was pleasant even. If I upset them I had to believe that this could not ruin what had begun, our small and sacred acts of seeing. I approached still with quiet silent steps. From the hall I glanced in, neither High Lord noticing me. The shadowed edge of the table, the light other. Someone else was there. Someone in color at the opposite end, all brightness, and his face, watching me already.

Oh.

There was no change in the eyes. Or eye, the other, metal.

Or Y/N was forgotten until Lucien remembers Dawn!reader x Lucien

Part Two, Part Three Part Four (AO3)

Whatever had followed me home was hungry.

The summer frogs and critters had gone silent. Beneath my window, twigs snapped, as the creature made its third pass by my room. I’d have known it was there even in silence. Circling my home a heavy dread peaked and fell as it circled. Once it rounded the corner away from me did it fall again to a powerful hum, steady, like a heartbeat. With each pass, its steps grew more sure so I suspected I had little time. Lying in bed staring at the ceiling so still, taking long breaths, deep even ones, I waited in that hum, waiting for the ascending dread. This was not a dweller of the woods. I’d known it when it began to stalk me. Nothing in Dawn Court was capable of such feelings, to warp and wield dread so intentionally. It was not like the danger of death, it had everything to do with being alive. Whatever it was felt my fear and reached for it. The beginning shift came, the rising hum. The feeling settled in my ears, my throat, and only once it reached my chest did I turn over and flick on my bedroom light.

I fell from my bed and winnowed to the kitchen below. I ducked under the window just as it latched itself to the brick. A dark shadow, darker than all the night around us, passed over the small glass and blocked at once the moon. It was almost unbearable, the dread this close, as if such pure terror could cause physical pain. This creature really, proof that it could.

The world was still, like I was already dead. The bed shifted above me. Then silence.

I did not swallow or dare anything. With death this close, I barred from my body any proof of life, even blinking. But even if I had managed something it would’ve ceased the moment I heard that laugh. Gutteral, rasped, unnatural it plunged into the air with enough weight to cut a hole in the world.

A voice followed, razor-sharp, precise, slithering through all things, “Strange, your kind is not usually so clever.”

It knew I was here and yet I knew it was there, but its voice came from all things, untraceable and I did not dare answer it.

“Rare was it when I wouldn’t find them in their beds, but you. I’m not surprised. I could feel it in you, as I sense it now, something…else. Do you know it as I know it, what makes us so alike?”

I gave no answer, not even a breath. Silence fell in the house, but I knew without sound it was circling above me, the dread coming with little reprieve. 

Another laugh, quieter, more pleased than amused. “It lives where I lived. It is born where I was born. What is in you is as old as pain. I feel that too, as you feel me. I know where you have been. I know where are. Wait and I will show you what you know.”

I was so utterly frozen in place. The voice both closer and far away, in my ear and in my bones. The dread and despair remained constant, never wavering, never moving. And yet the beast, it was somewhere in my house. It was somewhere up above. It was—

“Oh what you’ve begun, now I must have you,” It said, and suddenly from the silence came one creak on the stairs.

The grass bowed to me. The seconds after landing at the far end of the meadow were serene in a way. No crickets, no wind, not even a flutter of some winged insect. Just my breath caught on its fear rising into the full mooned sky, the bent grass in surrender and sacrifice to me, broken under my feet. All before the world erupted. 

Wood splintered and stone exploded, and I ducked behind the trees knowing it was too late. It knew where I was and where I was going. It would’ve known this even had I been able to put greater distance between us. From behind me came a snarl, far enough to have time, but not enough for comfort. This was a delay of the inevitable, I knew that, but I’d lasted so long. And I’d last as long as I could. So I ran through the thicket before the border of Day Court. The patch of woods gave way to even more grass. That endless field I’d sat afternoons in, lounging for the sun. How it stretched across the land like open arms for me once. It held me as nothing had ever held me. I would remember it, the gentleness of this part of the world. I was tired already, the starving winter hadn’t been gone long enough to give a body that could fight for very long. 

But I fought anyway. Into the clearing, I kept on, a second and third snarl much closer. I just wanted more time. More time to sit with the world and its beauty. I wanted to see spring again, feel the heat break in the evening, watch the moon wane. I spared a glance, that round full thing arcing the sky. Day was not far, real day, and the court. I’d not known it was the last, that sun streak through the window that had brushed against my lips, did not know that as it warmed my lips it had been a kiss goodbye. So I held the memory as I ran, a final goodness of the world, that there was light.

I made it a few more steps before the creature swiped at my side and I fell. I whirled at it as soon as my hips hit the soil. What had I been expecting from a creature that produced such pure dread? Claws and scales or too many teeth, but in fact it was not that at all. It was terror undiluted. The marrow dissolved from my bones. All hope winked out. Otherworldly, it seemed and confined by this one to take an almost shape. Yet I saw it nonetheless, its power and its being, as if veiled by a poorly made glamour. This strange creature, stuck in one world and belonging to another, straddling many words and belonging wholly to none. 

As I paused to watch it, it watched me too, head cocking to the side less the predator, more curious. Like it had not expected me either. Above us was nothing but as clear a night as ever, I didn’t even need to look directly at it to know it was there. Whatever end there was, my eyes would fall back, land on that beautiful sky lit by stars, beyond it darkness, and beyond that eternal darkness. A tendril of the beast's power seemed to swallow my power. It was a different darkness almost leathery, clawing away at the light beneath my skin. It replaced everything with fear so full and rich I froze. All but my mind was paralyzed, a rapid succession of thoughts slipping before me: would it hurt? Yes, it would. That day in the woods I’d thought it was death but it was not and this was surer than anything, as sure as memory, as forgetting. But there’d be somewhere else after with grass, and rivers, the sun would be as warm, life would be full again, onward, new goodness, new things. That I could hope for, this I could never lose. And the final thought came vivid and bright like dawn, remembering was waiting. Two faces, outstretched arms, voices saying I know you. I couldn’t smile, but my blood sang. 

And yet, as if touching a nerve, suddenly the terror rippled and broke open. The beast flinched back. Paralysis took hold, but no longer of me. Beneath the skin, something hot and unending boiled. I had no choice but to use it. I closed my eyes.

The world bathed itself in light.

And when I could no longer see the thing everything seemed to right itself in a kind of way. The fear bottomed out and in the wake of not a snarl, but a terrified hopeless scream. The grass was beneath my feet again. I was running. The inevitability of the world vanished. So I kept on, faster than before. Wind swept across the grass and I could’ve laughed, not because it felt so beautiful, but because despite everything going on I’d noticed the beauty at all. 

Beyond the border, a figure appeared from nothing. His hands already in motion were telling me to run, faster, further. The tall grass gave way to a clearing and it didn’t seem as if I’d crossed anywhere different but I had. I could smell the slightest change, relief made real. I was close enough now to hear him over the beast.

“Don’t look back.” He yelled, truly yelled though the world in my head was quiet. “Jump.”

I thought of no fate other than his outstretched hands. Just out of reach, three long strides, my feet struck the soft earth, and I leaped. The space clearing between us, he moved into my trajectory, catching me. His arms barely closed, we began to fold in. The last sound of that part of the world I’d guarded those years rattled with rage. I would not hear its end, just the terrible building arc of that godless scream.

***

It was hard to say what I realized first, that I was awake or that I was gasping. The air had been so thin, so slight before he’d grabbed me. I’d not even thought to breathe. Perhaps all death was like that, a forgetting to breathe. I remembered thoroughly, even defiantly, though by the time my eyes opened. Someone lunged to grab me again in my momentum as I swung upward. Their arms bracing against my chest, I turned, their eyes hard.

The same male. 

I flinched. Skin on skin—it hurt almost. Not in the place where we met, he managed a softness about him. It was a kind of pain that reached from the past. How long had it been, really, since someone had put hands on me? That final night I don’t think anyone touched me at all. There’d been no time, but there’d been maybe one moment… I pulled at the memory as if flattening crinkles in a page to see the words better, but it revealed nothing. I couldn’t remember. I hadn’t thought to remember as I should’ve. My hands closed in the hopes I might hold the past here a little longer, but I found more skin, skin that was not my own.  

Digging my heels into the firm mattress, I pushed off the bed out of his reach, and slammed the crown of my head into the headboard. I let in a sharp inhale, collapsing forward, pulling my whole body closer to me. It wouldn’t get hurt that way, if I kept it close, somewhere I could hide it. I pressed my fingers into my hair and found the throbbing bone.

“Relax,” the male said. His voice was firm, commanding. Within me, some taut muscle, or something even thinner than that, the blood rushing, calmed. I closed my eyes feeling for the impending respite. Each vertebrae, each joint, every hair on my arms, my legs, fell looser than it should’ve. All that panic fell away like rain in summer, there and gone again. I pressed the skin of my scalp feeling for a lump. It was easy to find. Lulling fast circles around it, I slowed as the pain began to soothe.

Yes, there was my body.

It revealed itself more readily now, nosing at the sheets, curling into the mattress, grabbing for something to hold onto. I nuzzled close to the linen, too soft to be cheap. This was a home. I could tell despite the creases in the fabric that stretched down as far as I had sight. They all ran parallel to each other, the markings that came when fabric was cared for or unused, tightly folded in a cupboard. I wouldn’t have known which it was, the cause for such lines, if they didn’t have that scent of use. Yes, a home. 

This was a grass. The smell on these, I think, or simply fresh, something that had been found close to my home. I stopped my fingers. It would take me a little while to know what. Half a century ago I would’ve known immediately. But things change, time passes. Time had already passed. 

I closed my knees before I removed my face. The only way I could sit up was by force, by pushing myself out of my own safe and hidden space. I was in a room, I realized, in a very big and equally fine bed to house such sheets. The creased linen seemed to cover a bed that extended a lifetime. A few people might lay here shoulder to shoulder with space to turn on either side. A single divot in the mattress told a story I knew very well. I was alone.

But I was not alone.

The male watched me from my bedside. Any lingering tension I had evaporated. For all his sternness he could not hide the handsomeness of his face. He had a civilized reluctance. The tentative primal suspicion that naive and truly wild animals can never quite be. Approaching on wobbly legs, ready to dash, nose first, smelling for motive. On the fae such suspicion was different, a careful hand outstretched with permission. Look how slow I move, but I can be quick, if you are quick. I can be deadly, even if you are deadly too. But I knew when not to bite. I could recall those long lost my manners.

“Are you alright?”

I rolled my shoulders, my neck, and turned my body from side to side but met no resistance beyond exhaustion. I twisted with slow caution back to face him, not wanting to cause alarm, and shook my head. I knew I was not a threat, but perhaps such a thing is never as obvious as we think because his reluctance did not leave his shoulders or mouth. In fact, he seemed more tense than before. Some inner conflict was waging inside him. His eyes, like mine, shifted left and right, studying. I settled with certain personifications, trying to make such body language larger and easier to see.

“You've been out for a few days. A precaution.”

After a while alone you lose track of the days. I was used to such ambiguity, of living based on the seasons. Crocuses marked the passing of one year to the next and birthdays had become pointless. Everything new and good started in spring. Then there was the elongating light, more sun, more time for things, and the creatures that revealed themselves with the spoils of warmth. Lucky I was to be in a solar court, perhaps the weather would do well in Spring Court, but time would be impossible to gauge. Here, I might finally learn again the month we were in.

“You gave us a scare. Do you…remember what happened?”

A thread of terror in me sang. I’m sure that dreaded note was always there, but never with such volume. Now it had woven itself inside my ribs and I don’t think I could ever forget where it was. A vacant space, a phantom note, was filled and I could never unknow it. So of course I remembered. It was my job, to preserve such memories. I nodded.

“Do you know what attacked you?”

Shoulders sagging I shook my head. I didn’t know it. It was like nothing I’d ever seen or researched. Behaving in ways familiar to something wild and predatory, but I had no name, not even a guess or inkling. That was a rare thing. I’d dedicated so much time to the natural world and I’d been out there long enough to know it. If not by name then at least by sight. I couldn’t even guess what family it had come from or from where it had strayed. 

“Did you see it?”

The question conjured its image immediately behind my eyelids. The heel of my palm dug into my forehead as if I could push out the memory of that creature between worlds, how it had looked at me so curiously. Such humanity, in its wonder. But it was distinctly inhuman, from somewhere far away and between, where dreaded thoughts and things come from. I negated its words. It did not live where I lived, was not born where I’d been born. We were made of opposite things.

“I understand,” he said simply. “We’ve been tracking the thing for weeks. It’s why I was out there, how I heard you. So far it's managed to evade us, but the few who have seen it, they don’t speak of it. I just needed to be sure.”

Sure? I must’ve said the question with my face because he gave an answer.

“It’s not supposed to be in the wild, it’s supposed to be in a library in another court. After a few sightings and an attack on a village close by, I began tracking it as a favor for a friend, the friend whose library it came from. We’re trying to put it back where it belongs, but unfortunately, it’s very clever.”

I pulled my knees in and rested my cheek against them. I was in new clothes, they were buttery and fine as everything here, wherever here was. So the stalking had been random, I was just someone close by. It had caught my scent and went that way. Unlucky. But what library needed such a thing? None I could think, not at least of the ones we knew and talked about before. After her burnings and demolition perhaps the ones that survived had taken better precautions now. Good news to return to. I’d consider this a good thing, what we’ve learned to protect.

I pulled the blankets tighter. Goosebumps had risen against my skin despite the balmy weather. Through the open window, the curtains curved against a stronger gust than all the rest. Summer was not nearly over, but it was beginning to fray at the edges. Or maybe the weather behaved differently here, maybe we’d left Day Court for somewhere else. Through one of the windows, tall fescues swayed outside of it, the view looking right out onto a lawn. That was the smell, on the sheets, fescue. I remembered now. I shut my eyes a moment and inhaled. Warmth pressed at my eyelids, illuminating the skin. The image of the beast was gone. Such richness instead, the vivid color, it was hard to say what was different about the light here, but something in the quality was brighter. Day Court then, no doubt.

“You’re from Dawn.”

Not a question. It was not very easy to forget he was there, to slip into the passing beauty of mid-day when the small space between us rippled. I felt its hum. Power. Such a thing is always familiar in the way that what you don’t have feels familiar by lack. Knowing the shape of something's absence also means knowing its presence, so when it does arrive it is then unmistakable.

He had power. It filled the room in the places I did not and never had. Relax, he’d said, and I had listened. My eyes slid back to his. Such grace, how he moved, how he sat, and the handsomeness of his face. A High Lord. One who was waiting now, staring at me. High Lord of Day Court. 

“I saw your light. I winnowed as close as I could, but.” His voice fell off. It wasn’t obvious in face but disappointment shadowed everything he did. I could feel it the way you feel anger in even the biggest of houses. If he didn’t want me to feel it he could do nothing about it. It was there. He continued, “The creature seemed to be, by the time I got there, wounded somehow. Or so it sounded at least. Did you have anything to do with that?”

I didn’t know how to answer that one. Yes and no seemed elusive. But it’s scream, that light, the feeling of its magic along my own. How it had twined its way, how it had touched something, something deeper than bone. A pit in my stomach opened up, sweat began to form at my nape, and a radiating heat hovered along my skin. I pressed a hand over my mouth. The pit, it was trying to come out. The male’s eyes went wide and he reached for something, pulling it from the nothing. A pail. He shoved it into my lap and I retched as soon as my eyes landed on the dark bottom. Bile, nothing but bile. The acidic flem burned my throat. It took a few minutes to will my stomach to settle, to not let the bitter taste in my mouth turn my stomach inside out. He handed me a damp rag, removing the bucket from my lap in an unfair trade. I wiped at my face, bowing in thanks.

Whatever question he’d asked was lost to him, unimportant, or perhaps he simply didn’t notice it, the silence. I’d made a noise. I suppose that was easy to mistake for participation. Which was fine, I couldn’t remember being much of a conversationalist, of ever needing to be. His eyes fell over my shoulder into a distance I couldn’t see, contemplating something, something I hadn’t said. I didn’t mind. It gave me a moment to recover. His gaze sharpened eventually, turning back to me. 

“I went back. It took me a minute, but I found your home. There were holes, in the wards, I can see those things.” He paused. I’d tried to repair them but the magic was complex and my knowledge was incredibly limited. As was most of my mending abilities which over 50 years would’ve been helpful. I’d learned some, but. “The deterioration was relatively new but those are very powerful and old wards. The fact there were holes suggests they’ve been protecting something a while.”

In a way. 

“Is there someone I can get for you? A relative, a friend?”

No. I shook my head, no one at all. 

“No one else was there. I checked. But did you leave anyone behind?”

No again. 

“No one is in trouble. We want to prevent another attack.”

We. Strange word for someone singular. Strange assumptions too between us. It hadn’t occurred to me that I would be in trouble to begin with, truthfully. I’d seen enough of a dangerous situation I suppose I’d begun to believe I’d know it on feel alone. But he didn’t seem at all dangerous to me, even with the power he wielded. If he’d wanted to harm me he could. That was a fact of life, of nature. I’d learned not to lament over fate like that. Death passes through and sometimes you’re struck, sometimes it skims by you, sometimes it forgets you’re there at all. Predator or prey, we got to be those things from time to time. I wasn’t special. So if he could be quick, I could be quick too.

Until then I shook my head. It was the truth, there was no one there.

His gaze turned heavy and contemplative. He tilted his head to watch me from a new perspective, eyes narrowing. I dropped my gaze, my fingers interlaced. I undid each one and placed my palms slow and flat along the bed, turning them over for him. They were calloused. It was the best proof I had. His eyes fell and the silence didn’t reveal to me what he’d seen in them, if anything. I did not close my hands. I wanted to. I wanted to close my body around myself and retreat again somewhere less real like a dream. I knew one thing with such certainty. It was me in that house. No one else. And he, I don’t know if he believed me. Denial of such a fact was worse than forgetting. I was at risk of disappearing entirely. But this, to be with others, had been a dream once too.

I let out a breath as he watched.

A contemplative hum left him. I had no idea what he meant. 

“I can take you back there. If there are things you need, but…it’s…”

He didn’t want to deliver the news that I had known well and true, what I had heard that night without needing to look back. The house, it was ruined. He could say it all he liked, but what had been there had ceased as many and all things eventually did. And maybe the structure was left, the outline, the memory, but that was not enough. Plenty of things stay in this world that way without use or existence.

I made to swallow, but my mouth was too dry. His eyes flicked to my throat before he reached for a glass at the bedside and passed it to me. How available it was, no well or spout. Not at least, here between us. Just a glass. Just a glass in an expensive large room. I held it to the light out of habit but I knew it was clean and brought the cool cup to my lips, forcing myself to take it in slow sips instead of insatiable gulps. As anyone did, as anyone who had such amenities would. His reluctance seemed to have subsided. Reassurance, that was what the fae liked. I guess I’d given some. 

See, I thought, I’m like you.

He nodded as if he understood this unspoken desire but I knew better than to think he’d heard me. He was pleased merely that I finished the glass. I think he was pleased also to have been the one who provided it. Once I handed the cup back he stared at the emptiness as it caught the light. His fingers moved it back and forth as he studied it. I didn’t mind the quiet, it had lost that touch of awkwardness a long time ago. I could stand a long pause. I let him collect his thoughts and watched as the pleasure fell away into an emotion I had difficulty placing. Sadness, but closer, more precise. 

“I’m sorry. We didn’t know it had strayed that far, that it had left my court. I would’ve—”

He stopped himself, finally placing the glass on the nightstand. Guilt. That was the emotion. But what could he have done? The house was warded, even if he could see those things he had no reason to believe I was there. There was no record of me. He’d seen me, for that I was grateful. To me that was already enough. My fingers twitched like I might reach for him, my mouth parted like I might say it’s okay, but neither occurred. I didn’t feel I had the control to make either thing happen.

His mouth pulled into a tight line, “The friend, I told him what happened. He got here immediately and we’d like to help you.”

For a moment all I wanted was to have the words. To say, don’t bother, to say, I’ll be okay you do not need to trouble yourself, to say your guilt is enormous but it doesn’t need to be, yet all of those things seemed wrong in different ways. Either because they were untrue or because I knew they wouldn’t help.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen or—” He cleared his throat, leaning his elbows on his knees, “When did you get there before or after the war?”

War.

I’d known things were tense, for lack of a better more informed word. It showed itself in many ways. People passed through. I didn’t make a habit of showing myself, but I’d listened. I’d been caught only once and the wards, they’d worked. However, there were times I’d been afraid. Times when I knew even with the precautions in place not to look out my window. But I didn’t know there’d been a war. He noticed my confusion and stiffened. 

“You were unaware.”

No, I confirmed for him, I wasn’t aware of anything. Knowing the curse broke, knowing she was gone, that had been a blessing of chance from the mother in and of itself. 

Now he swallowed, throat bobbing, “After the 50 years you didn’t go—“

I shook my head. There was no after the 50 years. I had been there the whole time, alone. I had not gone to that cottage because Amarantha was gone, I’d been there because she showed up. And it was now another 6 years later since she left. I’d tried going back. There was no returning, not after her. And today I was somewhere else. Today was another different day and another different life.

His face paled ever so slightly, the seriousness turned sad. I closed my hands, stuffing them under the blankets. I didn’t return to be pitied. That was worse than being lost. At least alone I understood. There was beauty and goodness where I was from. I would let no one tarnish it.

“You’ve been there since the curse.”

I nodded.

His words became flimsy. He searched for the right thing to say and said only what came to mind immediately it seemed, “Forgive me. I assumed that the house was old, that perhaps after she—that you returned looking for someone. That they had not survived.”

Wrong. If anything, someone should’ve come looking for me. I could feel the hardness of my gaze. I didn’t need to give an answer he could see it on my face.

“What then were you doing there?”

I drew in a long relaxed breath and turned away, eyes trailing the room. The walls were so nicely decorated, so ornate, the door seemed to disappear behind them. I hadn’t noticed it before, but now I couldn’t miss it. The glittering handle, its gold coat. Somewhere else lay waiting behind it. Maybe I could go. 

His question was not totally lost to me. Such a question required words, but what was the answer really? I was there to guard, to protect what we’d gotten away those years ago after she’d arrived. I belonged there, to the field, and the cold creak, with the birds. There was much to say and yet I don’t know if anything I could say would convey the totality of the truth. Despite all manners and reason, I wanted at least to give him that. If he were to help me, if this ‘we’ were to help me, then I thought it would be important that they know everything immediately. There would be no trouble. I just had to say it, had to find those words. I had gone there whether I knew it or not to be forgotten, to remember, to be the one who did the remembering.

I licked my lips but after another minute he opened his mouth. Whatever he had planned he didn’t get to say. A knock came at the door. He sighed, rising to his feet, and as he put distance between us a small thread of disappointment had been plucked. He made no noise as he walked. Yet when he saw who or what was on the other side of the door, his eyebrows lifted. It was muted, the voice, but it was certainly a female’s.

The High Lord turned to me, “Just a minute,” he said smiling with feigned emotion before he ducked out.

As soon as I heard the door shut I collapsed into the bed face down, groaning. It was refreshing, mildly, to hear my own voice. For so long this was all I wanted, someone there when I woke up, an excuse to talk, and despite knowing this—knowing what I wanted, having was another thing entirely. I guess I thought it would feel differently. I thought it would be a relief. I took in a breath, steadying the thudding of my heart. My throat constricted around the place a voice would be. My eyes burned.

I watched the empty glass at my bedside table. In the light, I could see where my lip print had been. Look, I thought, you were here. I took a steadier deeper breath. 

Most people like caring for others. That was one of those things that I liked about living, something I missed. In the woods, I cared for myself. So small a thing too, but the more I thought about it, the more sacred it became what we’d done. Knowing what you need and asking for it, is that not innate proof of living? And being the one to give it, proof of togetherness, of something shared. Sacred was the closest word but there was probably a better one. I bowed my head in thanks for the reminder though he was not there to see it. It had been a long time since I was alive.

The voided margin of my life seemed, so slightly, to fill the longer I stared at it. Such a thing hadn’t happened for a few years. I mouthed a thank you to the mother until I made the sheets damp, manifesting the words in a physical way, and sat up again as I had been.

It was a good world. It would be a good life. Soon. I hoped. 

The door opened again. He returned in a way no one ever did and with new skin. Or to say, some deeper tension, that battle in his mind had settled. So there was something more natural, more real about him than when he’d sat there before. His face was taken with embarrassment and charm at the same time, a slight smile, the shake of his head. He had another question, but this one I liked. 

“Would you like to go outside?”

My mouth twitched, almost a smile. Not quite an answer, but sound, I nodded,“Mhm.”

***

Someone dressed me, the female outside the door apparently, who’d chided the High Lord, driving him outside before he could utter another word, which it had seemed he greatly wanted to. She brought with her food that, like the water, I practiced not eating ravenously. The smell alone boasted of flavors I had never forgotten, even as they’d begun to be out of reach from me. I couldn’t, at that time, remember seeing a plate of such abundance.

She took care of me. Stiff in body, unsure, and second-guessing all meaning of directions, I tried to let her take care of me. Her nimble fingers worked through my hair, sometimes grabbing my head and righting it if it began to sag too far in one direction as I ate. She told me about the Summer Solstice celebrations they’d had a few weeks ago, how the swelter here had been unbearable. The heat though broke in the night and they, the workers included, had celebrated until dawn with Helion. Helion, she kept saying, Helion did this or that. She spoke about him with a casualty that at first, I had no idea who she meant.

“Did he introduce himself?”

He had in a way, at least enough for me to figure out who he was. High Lord of Day Court. Everything suggested as much. My court he’d said, and the beast had slipped through here. There was no closer court, it was not so difficult to put together, even if I didn’t know his name. But he didn’t know mine either. So I guess neither of us was showing our best manners. My thoughts continued, sifting through, and as I realized I was thinking too long it occurred to me also that she hadn’t spoken again, that she was actually waiting for my answer. I shook my head, deciding to be literal. No, no introductions. 

“I knew it! Helion thinks everyone knows him by sight.”

Helion, the High Lord then.

“Stupid fool,” She muttered, “And I’ll tell him so.”

I didn’t doubt it.

The clothes she gave me were light, good for the weather. I didn’t need anyone’s help putting it on. There were no buttons, no ties too complex, but when I, out of instinct, reached for the garment she grabbed it first with a coy smile.

“Turn around.”

In the hall she walked with me, filling the empty space with her voice. There was never enough to say. I’d missed decades of life outside my own so I suppose there would never again be enough to say. I’d never catch up. A silent gratitude passed between us though, for her chatter and life. As we walked, turning a corner into a long bright corridor where two large glass doors opened she nodded in acknowledgment for what I didn’t say. We approached the entry and the yard began to reveal its rolling hills but between them and myself two figures could be seen through the glass. I stuttered in my step, walking now silently. 

She turned toward me with nonchalance, “Don’t let them scare you.”

It wasn’t quite fear that I felt, but I understood why it seemed that way. It was really a genuine curiosity. Helion was with someone. A male. I could hear the jovial laughter they exchanged, their bodies angled toward each other, hands moving as they spoke, brushing shoulders and falling with ceratin comfortable and routined laughter. Their familiarity was easy to read on them and it made me ache. Yet despite this, they could not have appeared more different from one another. While Helion seemed to brighten standing in the sun, the other seemed warm, yes, but the light only further contrasted the shadows of his face. 

Was this the friend, the ‘we’ he’d meant? I’d assumed he meant someone of this court, but it was plainly obvious he did not belong to this place. That he was not born here.

We reached the door and she opened it for me. The two males calming from their laughter turned, soft smiled, toward us. With slow steps, I interlaced my fingers, squeezed my own hand, and took a step into the light on the terrace. Similar to Helion it was not difficult to notice it, the power the other male had. Through his shirt, I could see whirls of tattoos. It was not hard to guess once we faced each other. He, I knew by reputation. High Lord of the Night Court. His name escaped me. We stared at one another, Helion looking between us brows pushed so slightly inward to conceal the totality of his concern.

“You wanted something embarrassing?” The female behind me said, breaking the silence. I could hear her smugness. Our gazes broke and he looked beyond me, raising a brow in interest, his smile sharpening with delight. The two seemed to have allied, a private joke among them all. Helion’s face fell flat with annoyance though he didn’t use his position over her. “He didn’t even introduce himself. His ego so big I’m sure he was relying on looks of his alone.”

The High Lord of Night Court crossed his arms and peered at Helion, “He’s got the face for it.”

Helion said, “I wasn’t.”

The female scoffed, “Well, you certainly weren’t relying on charm and niceties. Ask him what her name is too. If he’d asked for it he would know.”

“Helion,” the other High Lord smiled, “Don’t tell me I’m beginning to have the better manners of us.”

“The Suriel revealed your bond to your mate. I don’t think it will bode well for you to begin a contest of things we didn’t say.”

The two smirked between them, each conceding to the other's point. I’d disappeared again. I didn’t know them as they knew each other. I couldn’t really participate. Sometimes when I missed the world I tried to imagine all the things that no longer happened since I’d left. I’d make a list in my head of everything I guessed was gone, and when I found a world I liked stripped of its vices I’d make a longer list of everything I hoped that remained. It was nice to see what always stayed, the gentle teasing, the way two people know each other. It was nice to see two people who weren’t miserable.

“Rhysand’s ego is still the biggest, it gets in the way, don’t let it this time,” said the female with finality before I heard the door close. Both male’s brows were raised and they gave each other a sidelong glance.

Rhysand. I said it in my head which felt like saying it aloud until I remembered that this was no longer the same thing. That logic had abated with the house. 

Rhysand turned to Helion, “I like her.”

“I knew you would.”

The pair's eyes then landed on me but now with unwavering focus and I felt it. They’d pulled me into the light. The other male bowed, “Hello, it's nice to finally meet you. I’m Rhys, High Lord of the Night Court.”

I nodded back.

“You’ll have to forgive Helion, he’s usually more polite. He’s High Lord of Day,” He said turning back to look at the male who’d saved me that night, who’d sat with me only an hour ago mostly unknown to me. The both of them were calm, all manner of teasing having vanished. I looked between the two. Helion gave a small nod. I turned my eyes back to Rhysand who had seen the whole thing and bowed my head. He gave a small smile, “Despite his behavior, it seems you made a good impression on her Helion.”

“I’m not as brutish as you.”

Rhysand laughed, “My tactics are an acquired taste.”

Helion turned to me, “Be glad I found you. He’s been known to have controversial methods when it comes to…rehabilitation. Tossing to the wolves some have said.”

Rhysand rolled his eyes, “Cassian and Feyre have gotten to you.”

The High Lord of Day gave a cool smile and it struck me now the full spectrum of his beauty, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

I could tell that something was funny but I didn’t know what. I was on the outside of the context, some closed quotation that had happened before. A shut door lay between me and the amusement I felt them share, at least they could. It did not escape my notice this small pleasure that came with being witness to that kind of thing. The way happiness and amusement even when you’re not versed in their circumstances allowed for some participation just the same. I held the hand by this that touched me.

“Don’t listen to him,” Rhysand said. “He’s a bore as much as I’m a brute and asked you a thousand questions which I have no intention of doing.”

“What then were you going to do, bring her to the weaver?” Muttered Helion.

Rhysand ignored him gesturing to the lawn, “Shall we walk?”

The light off the terrace hummed, reaching for me, waiting. It held a whisper, come home. I didn’t answer his question, just walked toward that call, as if enthralled by some spell. Stepping down into the grass I closed my eyes, turned my head up toward the sun, and took a long breath in. There lay no smile on my face, but something had pulled itself pleased. I dropped my gaze, didn’t look back at the two High Lords, and began to walk.

Rhysand and Helion let me stray ahead, their voices managing to reach me still as they spoke idly of family, of people I didn’t know and names I couldn’t commit to memory. Day Court was all green, bright, more shrubbery than flowers and blooms. It was something my parents would’ve liked.

My father said I married heaven and earth. He who studied the sky, my mother who studied the sea, and me the in-between—I united us. We three, together, knew everything we’d believed. On afternoons like this, after we’d left the library, we’d take the long way home, walking through fields, running. It was like the test, we’d point out things we knew and say what they were, explain them, and whatever I didn’t know they did. The feathergrass would sway and bend and we’d wade into it sometimes until it got dark. Here there was no feathergrass, just lawn, but I didn’t mind. Before I would’ve minded, if it were another afternoon of ages ago I would’ve told Helion what better grasses there were, how they’d glow gold in the sun of his court. 

I wandered in all directions. There was nothing denied to me, no call from behind telling me to go another way. It was all the comforts of living alone without being alone. I took in a long breath. Fescue, salt, pine, oak, it all mingled with me, following from the other side of the border. Where you go I go it seemed to say, so I was never too far from where I’d been. Some things were forever. It warmed the insides. So as I walked I told the wind the story of how it all happened until my feet hurt, until I reached an incline at the other end of the estate pausing below it. 

I turned back, the two males were in that same familiar stance I’d found them, standing close, fingers accidentally brushing as they spoke with their hands. All the while I was bumping shoulders with a ghost. I knew only one person well in the way they knew each other. They were far away. A good thing I’d learned.

I looked ahead and climbed the hill I’d found myself at the bottom of. From atop I met ocean. It was too far now to touch, but I could see it again. Waves glittered, breaking and reforming the light along their surface. A breeze sent pleats across the grass and I sat back, the dress rising higher, the sun soaking through. It was a privilege, I knew that now, to feel these things. I was not so much taking advantage of this second chance, I’d always paid this kind of attention, but I remembered the feeling of sadness, the thought of never feeling the warmth of the sun again and so I noticed it more acutely than ever. I’m sure when death came I’d miss the world, but for now, it was here and I could stretch out across it, leave an indent, if only until someone or something else came.

“You’re the talk of the house though no one knows your name. I, however, would like to call you something.”

I turned just enough to see Rhysand standing behind me. Helion was at the bottom of the hill still, speaking with someone. I looked back toward the High Lord of Night Court. I tried to imagine him saying my name back to me if I answered. It would be more real an existence I’d had since I got out there. It had been a long time since someone else had said it, too long since it had a place and weight in the world, cutting through the air, tumbling out of a mouth, mumbled in secret. I could not hear it on anyone else's tongue anymore even in my mind. At the cottage, you never need to use your name. Almost never, but I’d begun to say it sometimes. First at night, then calling myself in for dinner, then saying good morning. I didn’t want to forget, if a person could forget such a thing. The boundaries of memory had gone blurry.

It would be easy to say it. It would be good to say it. Nothing though came. Such silence made other people uncomfortable. Rhysand waited though, a good while, staring at a face he didn’t know well enough to sense it was trying, and eventually put his hands up in surrender. My shoulders fell, too slight to notice. The opportunity seemed lost though the letters were there rolling up from my stomach. Just tell him anyway, I thought. Say it now. But nothing came. I let out a breath. A breeze curled up over the hill and I smelled the sea. I could find the good in plenty. I concluded it was better this way. You cannot forget what you were never told. Maybe that was the secret all along to living for forever.

Rhysand admired the land before us, “It's beautiful, this court.”

I agreed with a bow of the head, the both of us staring across the water where it met the sky. The delicate heart behind my ribs began to beat louder, harder, not faster but pushing against my skin as if to reveal itself, to prove it still worked.

“I’m biased, I think my court's scenery is best, but Helion’s hosts such spectacular afternoons. It’s my second favorite. And not just because he’s a friend.” Rhysand said, adding with a sidelong glance, “I’d actually say our friendship makes it even less likely for me to admit that.”

My mouth slightly pulled at the edges. I was in on this joke. I’d seen it for myself, his friendship. I’d had one friend like that. The love had been of such comfort. You think you’ll never lose it, that was what we thought at least. Helion's laughter rose up the hill but I didn’t turn back to see it. I forgot the buoyancy of that sound, how it rises to meet you. I took in a long breath as if it would enter my body and become my own. I missed that feeling, the sensation of not being able to hold all that goodness in. But it was, again, like having in a different way, not having it. Helion’s was enough.

 “I suppose you’ve seen beautiful mornings yourself out there though.” His voice lacked any pain, any pity. There was something almost sacred in this act as well, where you are not denied the life you’ve lived or made to be its victim. The preciousness of recognition, that such good things, no matter how small, could be fawned over in such a way. I liked him for that. It seemed to settle any question I had about who he was.

My attention drifted skyward. The potential those first moments of daylight held, the soft tints, those lingering mornings. I could feel the lifetime I had in those early hours, where it seemed for all the world I’d do more than survive. I nodded.

“Good, I’m glad,” He said. “Have you traveled much to the other courts?”

I shook my head. My family had not strayed too far. We’d gone to the sea often enough, but never much further. I liked Dawn and knew it intimately, but it had never occurred to me to leave it. Not because I didn’t want to but why would I have? Now I wasn’t sure I could stomach a return, if that was what their help meant. I would have to tell them of that at least, of what I couldn’t do.

“You should see it sometime, my court,” He mused. “Perhaps you will become as biased as me.”

I looked over at him with a raised brow. The Hewn City wasn’t exactly on my list of places to visit. I’d seen sketches of it once while working. It gave the impression, the court at least, that it was more a prison than a home. The library, however, from which that beast had come, that would be worth a journey no doubt. I’d known nothing of it, but I’d be interested to see what needed such protection. 

Rhysand laughed lightly at my reluctance, “I don’t mean the court under the mountain, a different city.” His words seemed tight despite his laughter. As if that place, even its name, haunted something deep within him. It relaxed though, quickly. Helion mentioned a mate, the emotions he revealed and what he didn’t were for their understanding. I couldn’t pretend to comprehend the shifts of his face, the change in his diction. It was a language made for someone else. He turned to look back at the sea, relaxing, thinking, “Though after facing Bryaxis and living I’m sure you’d manage just fine.”

Bryaxis, the beast had a name. I mouthed it, rolling each syllable from the back of my mouth and letting it disintegrate into silence and air. Bryaxis who had spoken to me, had targeted me, Bryaxis who had watched me in its curiosity and hesitated. I didn’t know it. Even now knowing the name I knew I’d truly never heard it, not even in passing.

“What did you do before you tormented beasts?”

I huffed something like a laugh, something like what had become of my laugh. That was an answer I could say. I knew the word, knew it better than any other. My eyes on the horizon and yet again my voice strained, falling deeper in my chest. I suddenly had nowhere to begin. The words I’d had snagged in my throat by their inadequacy. He waited, but my mouth only opened and closed.

Rhysand made to speak. Say it I thought. I’m alive. I am not gone from history, the answers are not yet erased. Slowly, unnervingly quiet, I managed one word. It fell into my lap like a lead burden.

“Archivist.”

Despite the flatness of the answer, he gave me a look of casual surprise. It's cause I wasn’t sure, the occupation itself or the fact I answered at all, but he asked, “In a library?”

I nodded, pulling my knees into my chest. The sun began to fall toward the water. It painted our faces a deep orange. I threaded my fingers through the cool lawn, pulling up a few strands and tossing them to the wind. 

“So you studied?” 

My eyes widened slightly at that. Archivist positions, they weren’t scholars. Most people hadn’t asked about studying once they’d learned what I did. But that was then. I had been a scholar—or I was very close. If I’d had a little more time, if she hadn’t sent them that night to Dawn for destruction, if there hadn’t been the gap, then I would’ve. And then I wouldn’t have been in that cottage at all. Then everything would be different. 

But it wasn’t. This was my life. I traced my eyes over the beauty that was really here instead of the imagined one. Rhysand waited for my answer, expecting it now since I’d given one. This was the story I’d practiced telling many times, but every flourish I’d memorized, every bend I’d been telling and retelling alone evaded me, presented only a false start. I hoped that maybe the wind would say what I could not, that the memory it held would catch a gale and whisper into his ear. That it would pull everything from the past in a way I couldn’t then. There was no concise way, no summary that seemed to be true enough. The wind died down, so I confirmed without words. 

He put his hands in his pocket, his chin dipping, “What was it you studied?”

I gestured to everything around us.

“Day Court.”

I shook my head.  

He thought a minute, mouth falling open with an ahh sound, “Nature.”

“Mhm.”

“Out there then, it came in handy.” He’d developed a slight smile but it shrank as he thought a moment, “It’s what helped you survive so long.”

I shrugged more or less. His throat bobbed and I saw it, how he was aware of something. I knew then that Helion had told him everything. Despite the laughter and the conversation, despite all appearances, he was aware of me. But this was different from how Helion had been. Maybe the wind did talk. Whatever thought or idea had come into clarity changed the shape of his body, the way it lay against the world. There still came no pity, but I knew. He’d heard something I had not said, something maybe he only suspected. Something bad had happened. Not simply the cabin itself, but something else. He could feel it. There was a wound. I said I’d tell him. When I knew what to say I would tell him.

He avoided my eye, his own searching the horizon again. We used this world as a crutch between us. He waited a moment, another, then again and I knew that words were coming, difficult words, “I was sorry to hear of your home.”

It was my turn to withdraw from this part of the world for a more pleasant one. I went to the cottage for a minute and let myself visit one final time. I recalled with such clarity those late afternoons in spring when I’d come to the field and lie down beneath the grass to hide from the cool atmosphere. When the sunlight was enough, a shawl to thaw away the last dregs of winter. How fine a home it had been, protecting and nurturing, holding the last of a memory that for now had never been.

“It's not easy.”

Loss, I shook my head, no easy was not the term. The wind returned in time and pushed through my hair like a comb. I thanked quietly the earth for its care. For those long years nothing had touched me as those natural things, that quiet life in between moments and places. It was not the same in this place and these people, but they proved caring, regardless of what Helion had implied. There were no wolves. It was all gentle, if only in its own way, and I liked gentle things.

Helion’s footfall came up the hill. It paused on the edge of the moment, not quite part of it and yet witness too. A silence overwhelmed the moment and I could tell it was one in which two people are communicating silently with each other. My back turned they had a minute to shift their faces, to say what it was they needed to say. Rhysand continued, “Did you have any questions for us?”

The force of my question rose with great curiosity. Enough that I momentarily lost sight of what couldn’t be said. It was simple, but I wanted it. I wanted to know and so I tried. I asked. 

“The date.”

We returned a while later to the manor and both males were quieter as we walked. I narrowed my eyes at them a few times, watching. I could see it; some thoughts passed first through Rhysand and then into Helion. The two were not so much conspiring, but mulling something over. What to do with me maybe. Whatever it was, whatever they were thinking and could tell in the other, I didn’t mind too much. Privacy is a fine thing and while they were occupied I had a moment alone too. 

As the days progressed we acclimated to one another. I forgot the way people would meet you where you were but it did not go unnoticed to me all they did. The slight change from long-form questions to yes and no, the working around my silence. It was just a little too hard otherwise, to think of everything I wanted to say. I wanted to gather my thoughts. I practiced though, managing sometimes an audible yes, an audible no. I could tell they liked it when this happened, that it made them feel as if they were helping. They were. I would tell them when I could. When I had the words I knew they’d listen. 

At night I said my name to the ceiling. By morning all simplicity vanished. But I tried. 

After our routine, after dinner a week from the attack, the two High Lords bid me goodnight, crossing the hall into a sitting room where the door did not quite click into place. In consequence, I was not far enough away to not hear the beginning tension of their conversation. Curiosity got the better of me. I walked backward on silent feet, my ear angled to the door. 

“I’ve had Azriel do a flyover every day since I arrived. He can feel it near the border.”

Helion swore under his breath, “Has it bothered anyone else?” 

“No.”

But it would. The silence between them said as much. 

“What are you going to do?”

Rhysand sighed, “I don’t know. I’ve found nothing on how they put it in the library in the first place. Nothing on its deterrents, your men from Dawn haven’t had similar abilities when they’ve gotten close so it's not a matter of the court power itself. And that scream…I’ve faced it more than once, Cassian’s faced it, and never has it made such a noise.”

“I’ll consult the library.”

“Please.”

In my room, my hair was pulled from its pins as the female who’d been my company between the walks talked on. For the first time I wasn’t really listening. I liked it usually, hearing of her joy, of what she’d thought and seen. My mind though had gone elsewhere. Do you know it as I know it, what makes us so alike? Outside the moon had risen, waning. Time was passing over our idleness. The wind blew in the window with a familiar story. I relayed it over and over again in my mind, feeling its edges, the grooves, feeling for the dimensions where I knew they ended. 

“Where does Rhysand stay.”

I’d never interrupted her. It seemed simple, there in my head, everything. I’d had to interrupt her while it remained so. She stared at me in the mirror unphased to learn I could speak. 

“He’s been in the study late,” She said before leaning in to whisper. “I feel bad for his mate. Up at all hours.”

“How do I get there?”

I followed the directions I was given. The soft-hued night painted everything blue, even the hall. It made the light falling through the crack in the door more obvious. As if the sun were there in that part of the world and nowhere else. I gave a soft knock. Something stilled, something behind the door bigger than a body, maybe the entirety of the life I felt waiting on the edge of everything. A long shadow passed in the crack beneath the door before it opened. Rhysand looked surprised before he’d even opened it. He knew it was me. I didn’t wait for him this time. 

“I could help you,” I said with a quiet made for night only. It was a voice that had bled into everything I did. Like no part of me would risk betraying what I’d learned to do, how I’d survived by not being alive.

His mouth turned downward with confusion. I forgot again. Things have gone unsaid. An hour or two had passed. Our minds were not linked by thought and obsession. He couldn’t know what I had not told him. 

“Bryaxis.”

I knew I’d lose if he said no and he seemed inclined to do so. I didn’t have it in me to argue, didn’t have enough time to find my words and think, to articulate. He stared at me, hard. The room, his thoughts, everything about him really I didn’t have much access to. I could see a sliver of the study, a half emotion on his brow. I had only guessed what Helion had meant by his teasing, how he could be. Perhaps he’d let me with the wolves if I chose it.

“Why?”

“A library should be protected.”

His mouth pursed slightly, “That’s not your only reason.”

It wasn’t. I knew he’d wait for this answer, he’d probably wait all night. I could not escape it. The window in the study was open and a draft plucked at my ankles. I knew what it was saying.

“It seems plain to me—like I’d been planning on helping all along and I just figured it out.”

“And a good omen that this has got you talking.” Rhysand nodded slowly, thinking it over but I could tell he’d already made a decision, “Okay,” he said and stepped away from the door gesturing me to come in. “Have you decided to see my city then?”

Both he and Helion had offered me a place to stay. I didn’t know where I’d go, knowing was not the word, but there was a premonition. I could only describe it as how I imagine the migration of birds, some ancient memory in the bones pushing them in a direction even if they’d never gone that way before. It seemed I was going regardless, already flying, but I did not know until now which way it was, until he said yes.

I nodded.

He gestured to a seat and I took it. At the bar he’d strayed, offering a glass to me but I declined. He poured one for himself anyway. It was quiet here even with the window open. Bryaxis was lingering near the border but even the mention of the beast seemed to send life here to the very edge of everything.

“If you wanted to stay with Helion you could. We could come get you.”

“I know.”

He fell into his chair and rested the cool glass against his knee. The dew on the outside of his drink was already dripping onto his pants wetting the fabric. The heat of summer had ebbed and flowed, but tonight it didn’t want to break.

“There will be a lot to discuss before we can go out there,” He said bringing the glass to his mouth and swallowing with a sigh. “We have some time, not much.”

I bowed my head, opening my mouth to speak. There was plenty to be said, if only I said it. Sweat beaded along my hairline, I wrung my hand before wiping my damp palms on my clothes. We were rarely so solitary, our attentions so focused, and perhaps that’s why he noticed the inclination I had to speak, the moment I needed to gather the words.

“There are…things you don’t know,” I said swallowing. My brows furrowed but still he waited. He’d leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees like he’d find my words by proximity. “I’ve been trying…”

The sentence died out there. The air had gone noticeably stagnant, the simplicity of everything vanishing again without sign of return. I turned my attention to the window. Outside the tallest branches sat unmoved. I closed my eyes, clenched my jaw, I could remember. The wide maw of my life opened fast, descending rapidly. It heard more than felt the speed of my heart, it a similar beast ready to bite.

“I’m not supposed to be…” I pressed my fingers to my forehead smoothing out a wrinkle. Show me the words. All of them. Please. Who was I talking to? 

“It’s okay,” Rhysand said, with obvious gentleness. My despair was great, too great to miss. You did not have to know me to feel it. A rush of sympathy overcame me at Helion’s guilt. I couldn’t look at him, could not face this level of care coming from his being. “You can show me.”

It was like a cold front. The edge of two things, one sweeping in from the margins and pushing out the other. The hair on my arms stood up. I knew what he meant. I did not have to ask. My eyes met his and he took fear for question. 

He continued, unaware, “You know of the gift of daemati?” 

I tripped over the table to my left, surging again, away from Rhysand with speed that did not account for such things. Glass broke. I walked over it. I knew I had by context not by feeling. I couldn’t have missed it. The noise booming in the quiet intruded, breaking the peace and stillness. I was so much like that beast. It was right. He stared blank-faced at me as I backed myself toward a wall, stranded in a room with something wild and no idea what to do or how to help. And the trouble was I knew he wanted to, I knew he’d suggested this only to help, but I could not fight it, that terror rising like bile.

“No.”

“I don’t—”

I shook my head, “No.”

He took a breath and I saw it, how it had calmed him. I tried the same to no relief. The pause only added to the growing tension, sharpening like a needle with which life would pierce me. 

“I only see what you choose. It won’t hurt.”

Something familiar crept inside me, clawing, and opened a hole in my stomach. I felt it fill with something foul, something from another place, somewhere I’d never been. I shut my eyes as if that would prevent the lens with which I saw the world to become filled with it, but even behind my eyes I watched it rise in my waterline until it passed over the iris, until suddenly the world was swimming in the tint of gloom. 

Helion burst through the door. Rhysand raised a hand to him before either could speak again. I couldn’t tell if he’d arrived with speed, time had begun to mean nothing again. All I knew was it was summer and the world was very dark despite the odds.

“I can tell you. I know the words,” I said turning to look at him praying just the assertion would conjure them. But doing so only illuminated to me something else. Rhysand had betrayed me. Such sadness had overcome him. A face of pity. I had wanted more than anything to have the words, but now they’d never come. 

He must have seen it on my face because he spoke, “Even if you did, I need to see what you saw that night.”

“What about the Veritas orb?” Helion said. I’d forgotten he was there. How quiet he was. He turned to me, eyes falling to the floor. The glass. I was a poor guest. I was bleeding all over his fine house. I’d stain. I’d never leave. I’d haunt everything.

Rhysand shook his head, “It shows only glimpses. I need everything, every feeling, every sound.”

I took in a breath, the biggest I could remember needing. I wanted to yell, I wanted to give him what he wanted, but instead what came was that soft voice made to conceal everything, “I’ll tell you what it said.”

The solution I hoped the offer would bring seemed further after I’d made it. The pair looked at me. “Bryaxis spoke to you?”

I nodded. 

Rhysand rubbed at his forehead, “I can’t send you out there without knowing. It’s too dangerous. With how clever it is I need to know precisely what was said, what you felt, if your magic reacted.”

I winced. Stepping back the glass crunched and I forced myself to feel it. The males cringed, and suddenly I could smell the tang of my blood. Slowly I remembered what had been forgotten. I’m in this world. I’m in this room.

Rhysand continued, guilt-ridden, and I understood—I’d understood before, “I can no more give back your house than I can your life.”

But I could not do it. I turned away, my eyes blurred, stomach in my throat. I said into my shoulder, even quieter than before, like my voice knew before me it would no longer be needed, “But I remember.”

Rhysand met the quiet with his own, “I believe you.”

His final words were unsaid, but I heard them. I need to see. I waited a moment so as not to be rude.

 “No,” I said and left. 

I lost track of time easily like a habit. I made sure not to get blood anywhere. In that very large bed, too large for even two people, I climbed, already having pulled the glass from my flesh. The wounds in a momentary glow stitched together and within a minute it was like they hadn’t been there at all. I tried to remember they were, tried to remember how many pieces I pulled out, but that was already leaving me. I didn’t have the space for it. I let my head meet the pillow, tugged the blanket to my chin, and did not know the number of days it took me to get up again.

***

“You were at the library of Aurora.”

Once I got out of bed they came to see me often even though I did not talk. Unmoving, staring out the open window, they spoke to my back. The branches in the distance were a mimicked stillness. They hadn’t moved since that night. I ignored the cold sweat that began to buzz against my skin. My stomach and its emptiness clawed to get out. I ignored the echo of that name in my knees. Aurora.

“I realized it the first day we met,” Rhysand continued. It was him talking this time. I think they took turns. I think I thought that at some point. I lost track of what I believed. “You want to protect my library because you saw Aurora burn and got away.”

Gone. All that knowledge destroyed, and it was me who was supposed to preserve it. Centuries of work, centuries of records, all lost. And I’d fled as it burned. I left them to their fate as he had left me to mine.

“So I know you understand the importance of what I’m asking. How crucial it is to ensure you we don’t lose information by not sharing it.”

A sob fought its way through my chest at the innate cruelty, that I was as important, as precious, as that library and what it held. No, I was just a female from the woods. I was a memory. I’d hit a hole in the world and fall through like everything else forgotten and it wouldn’t matter what I had, what had been in that house, what had happened to it. 

 “Your secrets are yours I won’t go anywhere besides that night at your home. Helion can be there if you’d like.”

The scent of oatmeal wafted toward the window, crossing my path before running away into the world. I would not eat it as I had not eaten the last bowl. Rhysand could harm me easily and Helion could do nothing about it. That is the order of all things. I was not lamenting over the trivialities of nature. What is in you is as old as pain.

“I want to help.”

Maybe I could go back, maybe I could repair.  I swallowed, “Can you put it back?” 

Silence. A cloud moved over the sun. 

“What?” 

I repeated, “What your claws break, can you put the pieces back together?”

It wasn’t secrets I wanted to keep. I’d tell him everything if he asked. If he let me help, I’d tell him what he would never figure out, could never know about that night, about the years after. And I knew they were claws, knew how they felt, the ease with which they shattered. I wanted to preserve something else more fragile than a house, than a life.

“No,” he said.

The cloud passed and from behind me, the bedroom door shut.

***

It was the same dream. A needle pierced the current and caught my legs, I followed the light. There in the thicket, I’m asked for my name. This time I say it. Yet with each letter given voice the dream dissolved. First him, then the birds, then the water, until there was nothing but darkness. I did not try to grab for that world. I knew I could not keep it. 

***

I woke with clear eyes. I knew the way well enough. No one was coming for me so I did not wait. Walking as I always had, like I was in a current almost going downstream. There was no stopping, you could only get out, and I didn’t want to get out. I had no reason to believe I should do this really and as I walked I tried to find a why but I had none. Life was different from when I abandoned it and maybe I no longer fit in the space I’d left behind. Maybe not even from a distance. I didn’t know though, and I guess I wanted to know if there was room for me even if I was different from what I’d been. I kept walking. For now, I knew only that I had to keep walking. 

Around the corner, I found the dining room doors open. I could hear their murmurs. They weren’t displeased, not in any great way, it was pleasant even. If I upset them I had to believe that this could not ruin what had begun, our small and sacred acts of seeing. I approached still with quiet silent steps. From the hall I glanced in, neither High Lord noticing me. The shadowed edge of the table, the light other. Someone else was there. Someone in color at the opposite end, all brightness, and his face, watching me already.

Oh.

There was no change in the eyes. Or eye, the other, metal. His full lips unflinching, gaze unending, but as our attentions met, I saw it. I knew what memory looked like and how forgetting affected the face. That thing you can’t place and it's confusion. Or worse, not even confusion, not even the grasping hands for the edges of the mind, those echos of slight recognition. Just blankness.

Helion caught us first.

“We have a guest.”

I didn’t know if it was directed at me or Rhysand who turned to see I was standing there, still in my pajamas, the skin under my eyes purpling despite the long sleep I’d taken since that night in the study. There was no desire, no instinct, to look away from the hard edges of this male that began to soften like the beginning colors of morning. Not before I knew for certain. He stood. A slight bend at his waist settled for manners. I dipped only my head. I didn’t think I could safely manage much else without revealing the intensity with which I felt the need to watch him. Every window was open, the sunlight bled into his skin. He glowed warm, like a field in late afternoon, like a summer’s full moon.

“We just sent someone to get you,” Helion said. 

 Rhysand stared between us. His gaze sharp, he watched from the middle of our line of sight, our attention passing through him and he seemed to feel it. He introduced us, “This is Lucien, emissary of the Night Court.”

Lucien. 

The emissary waited a minute, for my name, but I’d never given it. It was all muscle memory in a way. His own mouth pulled slight and pleasant, glad for something but I didn’t know what. The stare breaking, he turned toward Helion and Rhysand,  “We’ve met.”

All at once the world became more solid than it had ever been. As real as the lip print on a glass. I took one long breath and when I exhaled it came as a relief. 

“Just once,” I said.

His face relaxed revealing just barely more of his smile, “Yes. Only once.”

Both High Lords had stiffened at the revelation. The inadequacy of my words caught up with me as they never had. Faster than I would’ve guessed if I’d had the chance. If there’d been time. 

“When?” Rhysand asked. 

“A few years ago.” 

The hole in my stomach once gaping began to shrink. I didn’t know anyone could still do that—remember me. Helion stared between us, his brows rising slightly. He turned toward Rhysand and the same thing happened that had occurred those days before, a thought seemed to pass through them. I knew though, or suspected it at the very least, that some communication was happening inside their heads. It was not so figurative, not the work of long-time friendship, it was tangible words being said along some avenue Rhysand managed to speak through. 

“Are you hungry at all?” Helion asked, turning his focus back on me. 

I nodded. I was starving, I realized. Each step I took into the room seemed to solidify something in me that had become translucent. I couldn’t say what it was. The absence though was filling. Lucien waited to sit until I had. His manners reminded me again to perform my own as Helion pulled out the chair I’d always taken, the one just beside Lucien.  Strange how it happens this way. I straightened my shoulders and crossed my legs. I was not in the woods. 

Helion and Rhysand resumed the conversation they must have been having when I wasn’t in the room, about someone they both knew, and it was as if nothing had happened. They were not overly cautious, not afraid I’d return to the person I was when we were alone. They would not let me haunt this place. They were not looking, but I bowed my head in thanks and made a plate. 

Wordlessly we passed each other dishes. Lucien took only a little food, his plate had been empty, but there was enough to suggest he’d already eaten and was now going for seconds. I chewed even slower than the last time, not wanting him to figure out I was ravenous despite being in such a fine place. I had no explanation, not one at least I wanted to give as to why I was the way I was. The flavors were so rich it became impossible not to eat with some vigor and before long I found myself looking across the table for a glass. Without ceremony, however, Lucien passed a teacup over to me already poured. I took it with sturdy hands, the warmth of him apparent the moment we were a little close, fingers pulling, overlapping. I sipped it gratefully. 

“Did you sleep well?”

It always happened the same way with that dream. The dreamland disappears and a sky just close to dawn appears. And then there's no sleeping, no ability to return to the depth of unconsciousness I’d found. But it was a deep sleep, the kind that leaves you groggy.

I opened my mouth but decided instead on shaking my head no. He stared at me, a sense of anticipation on his shoulders, some tension building. The light off the lawn cast his face in kindness, something soft. An old desire formed in my gut, some weightlessness of being that made my hand light enough to rise from its place. I wanted to touch him, his face, run my fingers over his cupid’s bow, feel the dip. But I did not. Instead, I placed my palms flat on the table so he could see them.

“Have you been here long?”

‘I…don’t know.”

Despite the worn look of confusion, the tension in his shoulders settled. He didn’t understand me. This was not so foreign. I wasn’t sure how to describe it, the feeling of time slipping from your hands like water. The inability to track where your disruption had begun, where all that cool clear current had been touched by you. My hands flinched as if to close, but I didn’t let them.

“I’ve lost track of time.”

“The moon is repeating again, since its phase at the start of summer.” 

Two weeks then, since I arrived. I took a sip of my tea, staring down the table into something empty. Time again had passed. Perhaps Bryaxis by now had moved on. A library unprotected, a beast in the world. All the while the two High Lords looking for it here with me. I hummed some note by way of reply. It came on instinct rather than on purpose. Some part of my mind paying attention. 

“I never caught your name,” he said. The words were quiet enough that no one might hear, as if they’d come from the past. In a way they had. Even so, it drew me back into him, into the present where I was not alone at the table. I was glad for it. There was a time when I’d have given anything for that, someone who could draw my attention. 

Yet when I turned to him in answer my thoughts were so blank it was like a name had never been there. My mouth hung open in the silence. His eyes dipping to it forced me to look away. I wanted not to do it, to remove my hands, but I did, balling them into my pajamas. He never knew it, and yet telling him seemed to ensure more readily that I’d be forgotten altogether. That strange fallacy of fate all heroes make in trying to avoid theirs. My throat formed a lump the size of a worry stone. Everything was slipping away like a dream before you woke up. I wanted to ask anyone, anything, for it not to happen, for here of all places to stay. Say it, I thought, or he will think you never will. 

Then his voice, delicate like a sunbeam through leaves, interrupted the current of my mind, “Take your time.”

I blinked a few times and released my dress, counting each finger as I did until it lay flat again. Slowly I crept forward, placing those two palms on the cool wood of the table. My eyes found the window and I kept him in my line of sight as the stone I’d swallowed began to vanish, the syllables taking shape, until everything formed perfectly in my mind, every letter, every thought, every good reason I had to share this answer with him.

“Y/N.”

His eyes traced back and forth, dipping then rising with the peaks of my face like one would follow a mountain range. 

“Y/N,” he said once to me. Then again after he turned to his plate but more to himself. He held the name in his mouth, rolling it around. I did the same with his as I had since we met. I closed my fist around the fork but kept it on the table. I had a simultaneous urge, like when the sun is too bright but you want to turn your face into its warmth, of something wanting to disappear and something else wishing to get out.

He sipped his own cup. Though his eyes were not on me I could tell I had his attention so fully that nothing would escape him. I’d already done that and I don’t think he planned on letting it happen again. Even downcast, even seeming to be miles away, he was taking great care to see me, to be aware of me, from his place in the world. I wanted to reach out and say that I was going nowhere, but I had no idea if that was even true so I thought of something else to say, slowly, while feeling the weight of his awareness.

“You’re Night Court,” I managed to get out.

He nodded, “Yes.”

“I thought maybe you were something else.”

“I was.”

I bowed, nodding, my chest strained just a bit, but not enough for me to stop the plain words, “I was something else too.”

He placed his hand on the table and my eyes fell to the food he wasn’t eating, though he’d piled such healthy proportions. My every word he hung onto now there was no time left for the things he’d begun. 

“What were you before?”

I thought of the ghost, of all the things I might tell him, but it was almost like a mirage, some obscuring that happened by proximity where being further away gives a false clarity. When I tried to reach for her to see her detail I found she was gone. 

He must have noticed the conflict in my mind because he spoke again, “You don’t have to say if you don’t wish to.”

“Thank you.”

He gave me a simple smile and we returned to something quiet. I knew he’d listen if I ever had the words. When we met I could see the kindness off him like you see ripples in a pond, the greater Os disappearing into the outer boundary, shy and thin. I felt as if I were a very far away edge touching the lighter rings and now it seemed I was at the center where the kindness was more immediate, more intentional. I don’t know if anyone had ever been so gentle. Not the false gentleness where they believe you will break, but another kind entirely. An understanding that the world was cruel and that he was continuously deciding he wouldn’t be. 

I ate my own food in silence, waiting for his attention to diminish, to wink out entirely. Only it didn’t. Only actually, there were things I wanted to say if I could reach them, if only I had access.

“Do you…” I began, “Did you find her?”

His brows rose slightly and his eyes flicked toward the other end of the table for less than a moment, but I’d seen. He cleared his throat, “Yes.”

“Is she…is she well?”

“Very,” he said and though his face didn’t show it, I felt something in his words like relief. 

I bit into my bread, chewing, thinking of the next words, “I put something out for her. For the mother.”

Lucien’s face returned to that softness of when we’d found each other in the same place again, when he still didn’t know my name, “Thank you.”

I nodded, content to leave it at that, but found the question rising before I could wonder if I should ask it, “And is it nice where you live? In the Night court?”

His mouth pursed with the question, an answer not so available. It did not seem a coincidence that an emissary arrived just when they were in need of one. However, he did not seem poised to lie, to sell me on anything. If he had the answer would be easy.

“I like to think that I will love it eventually as I have come to love everywhere I’ve lived, but it does not quite feel like home as I know it.”

“You’ve lived many places?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not here to convince me of one.”

His brows rose and he turned down the table to look at the other occupants, “Of Rhysand? No.”

“Why?”

He paused, but not with thought, with something else that maybe if I knew him a little better I could say. His hand flinched forward, but shifted from its unknown trajectory toward a glass.

“Right now, I doubt that is what you most need.”

Death felt close—so to say I forgot again about breathing. Not for very long, but long enough. Everything else, everything I had wanted to say or ask didn’t yet arrive with the same clarity. If he was emissary for the Night Court then all I could hope was that there'd be time to say it. That something somewhere would give me time to get it out. For now, my cup was empty. I stared at the bottom, the tea leaves forming a pattern and maybe if I’d been a scholar of such readings of fate I could use it. Maybe I wouldn’t think it at all a bias that when I looked down I saw stars.

“Have you been back swimming this summer?” He asked.

“Yes. I love swimming.”

His mouth twitched, “You do.” 

I don’t know what I’d thought really, that he remembered me and had not remembered anything else, but it surprised me again that even the context for which we met was so available to him. That, on any given day since the first time and now, he could conjure me in that stream swimming. He could picture the scene, imagine the moment, and I would be there as he had been there in my own memory. I was not used to it, to any of what had become of me. Something within, some hidden note, was plucked like a harpstring. It hummed in my inner ear and I sighed.

“I used to go swimming all the time,” He said. 

“Not anymore?”

He shook his head, “I’ve been busy.”

“Oh,” I said unsure of what to say next, blindly following the whims of my mind as if a light had been shut off and I needed to find my way through a dark forgotten room. I leaned forward, hoping he’d hear me despite his attention on his food. “Where did you swim before?”

He finished cutting into his bread only to put his hands in his lap, the fork now idle jewelry at his side. “At home, there was a pond we’d go to. Now I suppose the—” He coughed, shifting in his chair uncomfortably. I was too close, I realized. I pulled back resting against the chair. I tried to remember better manners, and space, and those things we learned as children. 

His mouth momentarily downturned he continued, leaning towards me, “I’m sure there are a few hidden places. I haven’t looked hard enough yet.”

“Maybe you will like it better, where you are, if you return to something old in a new way,” I said, nodding a moment, collecting the jumble of thoughts that had appeared. He watched my face, knowing there was more and waiting for it. His hand so close to mine I could grab it if I wanted to, let my own drift his way, and check that he was really here. Yes, these were the words. “The way water makes you weightless, that's one of the things I’ve always liked about swimming—that reminder that I’m not so in control as I think. Nature is there and I might get swept some way and find myself in a different and new part of the world, exposed to its beauty even if I don’t know it yet, didn’t know I had wanted to see it until I got there.”

Lucien’s face took on a more refined contentment. I watched it happen as I spoke, the way he listened. My voice seemed to settle on him with a precise weight that relaxed his shoulders, brightened his eyes. I don’t know if I’d ever seen anyone listen to me with such a face, not even surprised that I had so much to say, but as if he were expecting it all along and was glad to finally have it in his presence.

His throat bobbed, “it’s nice—nicer, when you think of it that way.”

I managed a very slight smile, closer to happiness than I could then remember. Larger too, more real than anything since that night where I’d gone and had never quite come back.

We walked as we did but in a different way. The rolling hills, the sea, they were out of sight. Lucien had to go. He’d come to deliver a message, and he’d done that before I arrived. It was all the same as it had been but instead of the great lawn there was the formal patio followed by great grassy paths and the conservatory. 

He stayed close to me, not letting me stray as the other two did. Delicately his fingers grabbed for long blades of grass, pulling them from their root as he walked by, dropping them once a few steps had been taken. Everything ran through his fingers, nothing passed his notice without finding first his hands, pressing for the boundaries, the veins, the green, the bloom. All of it was his to touch and he did. The white fabric I wore overlapped with his legs at times. I was aware of it as I was aware of everything—acutely.

“You’ve enlisted to help get Bryaxis I hear.”

“Yes.”

“That’s brave,” he said. “I’m told it’s unbearable up close.”

“It is.”

“So you’ll be joining us.”

I was quiet. There were still things left to do and I didn’t know what would become of me once they’d been done. But at least I got to see him. At least now I knew what I knew, that he was real and he remembered me. I could still do such things and that was a gift. I wouldn’t waste it. The golden gate of the property came into view. Our time was over. My hand at my side it pushed outward for him but I changed its momentum, bringing it into crossed arms. The pair of us stared ahead. 

“Are you afraid to see it again?”

Fear was not the word and yet in some sense it was. Because I would feel fear once I said it again, of that I was sure, but I was not afraid at the prospect of being afraid. When it is certain there seems less to worry about. It no longer was difficult to imagine how terrified one could be and so too that prevented any misunderstanding of what I was doing. 

“Fear is not quite right.”

“What is?”

“I don’t know.”

Our shoulders brushed and I turned my head up to him, his tall frame. If it were not noon he’d block the sun entirely from me. It cast through his shirt revealing so much of him. There were no secrets, there was nowhere denied besides the places strangers ought to be denied. He and I had skipped that with me I suppose.

“I hope I see you. I’d just begun to think you got away.”

“I did,” I said. “More than once.”

Silence fell between us and I tried to mend what had begun the way I used to. Birds chirped overhead Goshawks, chickadees, sparrows—I rattled each one off as it spoke, taking inventory and filing it all away. First I wanted it in the memory, the one happening where I was walking along the path in Day Court and nothing seemed wrong even though it was. But that seemed a little too flimsy, something easy to slip out of your grasp so instead I put it in an index of what wildlife flew free under Helion’s sun.

“Vassa and Jurian are waiting,” Lucien said giving a glance back before settling his gaze again on me. “Goodbye Y/N.”

I did not say it back. The sentiment expanded the hole in my stomach that had begun to close ever so slightly. Gloom caught the world but I brushed it aside like a cobweb. There he was, going now, the first person in 50 years who had not forgotten me. That was one of those good unexpected things. Life was full of those. It was worth it in a way, to stay alive, to see what found its way down the current onto my side of the creak. 

He walked down the grassy path toward the gate. Rhysand behind me didn’t approach, but I’d felt him show up as Lucien was leaving. I waited for the emissary to pass the boundary. I couldn’t see it, but suddenly he felt very far away, small, yet still there in my line of sight. My hair brushed against my shoulders, the lawn flattening giving shape to the breeze that had returned, bringing with it something simple and sure to the world. My life, yes, this was my life. 

“I will show you,” I said.

Rhysand approached next to me watching the male too but with different emotion, something unsure. He extended a hand my way. I turned to look at it. 

“I don’t do tattoos.” 

The High Lord smiled, “Luckily this isn’t a bargain. You can leave at any time. I mean it. Bryaxis is my problem.”

I swallowed, turning to see the glint of the last male in the world who’d known I was there, there in those woods. How small he was. Wind blew through the front lawn relieving the heat. 

“There's something you should know before you extend your offer officially. If you wish to withdraw I won’t hold it against you. I don’t want you feeling you’re under any obligation to me. 

“It’s my beast.” 

“And they were my wards.”

“If it means so much to you we can split the blame.” 

I crossed my arms, “You like deals.”

“I’ve had luck with them in the past, yes.” His face once again settled on the horizon. Our peripheral watched as the Emissary finally disappeared, but I knew he’d been there. There was no worry between us, no doubt. Someone had once believed in me this way, but only once. My heart beating with the story I’d told a thousand times, the words rising with ease, a beginning and an end. 

“I’m supposed to be dead.”

[maplewood126]

Mountainwings/Highland dragons

So one day, way back when (2 years i assume), i decided to make up my own wings of fire tribes in a far away land called- i never actually came up with a name. There were the mountainwings or the highland dragons, the forestwings or the dragons of the ancient forest, the desertwing or sand dragons, the rhinowings or greater horned dragon, the bird wings or birds of prey (they call themselves the dragons of paradise) and the shadow dwellers. Some included dragons were the meadow runners and shorewings, better known as fisher dragons or sea dragons.

Here, is an example of a personal favorite, the mountainwings. (Yes i was to lazy to redraw the head so i traced over the image of the first one in digital.) They look bad cause 2 years ago drawing. They are long legged creatures who have long wings which are feathered near the base and more bad like near the ends. They dont have scales and instead have long thick fur that helps them deal with the colder environment. They're lungs are generally larger than normal dragons, since they live in a higher altitude. Their fur cor varies from browns to grays to black, white and even sometimes a ginger color. They have horns that mimics that of many goat species (cuz its cool) their current queen is queen addax [2nd image] (dont care uf its not a mountain goat. Its a goat and i like the name). Her husband is king boulder.

When dragons from other tribes visit the mountain wings (like for buisness or important political matters, the queen has them stay in a camp near the base of the mountain. That way theres less risk of dragons fainting or having medical conditions as a result of the altitude. The highland kingdom is located on the 3rd largest peak in the moutian range. Their territory might look like this. They dont have any known abilities. Mountainwings are unable to fly for long amounts of time, their wings are slightly smaller. They are very good at balance and spotting things from very far away.

their claws are thick and ridged to help hook onto cracks and rocks. Their names are related to mountains nature, animals that like on mountains, goats specifically, minerals and sky names.

[earthworms-worm]

Dwellers will take on the colours of their surroundings, so even if two Dwellers are the same kind, they may look completely different from one another!

This is the same Meadow Dweller during different times of the year, the top depicts them living in the farmlands during the summer and the bottom is them residing in a flower meadow during spring! (Otherwise known as me accidentally making them look like a Christmas tree)

[tsuteychubbyhumanmate]

Sisterhood.

Pairing: Namor/K’ul’ku’kan x reader

Summary: When your sisters, well fake sisters, Nastash and Yelena ask for your help to destroy the man and place that took everything from you before your life began, you happily agree to join but your husband, didn't know why and didn't care. He forbid you to go, you don't take orders well.

Warning: Aust, Fluff, Arguments, Black widow spoilers, Grabic fighting, Dark past, Making up, Near death experience.

A/n: I never did anything like this so be gentle with me lol, I hope it comes out alright. It took a while because I had to watch the movie step by step as I had things going on so I hope it was worth the wait so im sorry if it sucks

" I need to go! It's a family emergency!" you argued as you stuffed clothes into the backpack, growing annoyed as your newly wedded husband; Namor took some out "No. you never told me much about your family and I don't trust those surface dwellers." you stopped and glared at him "I'm a "surface dweller" mind you." you air quoted what he said "I forbid you to go." he declared "Forbid me?" you questioned in disbelief "You forbid me?!" You repeated outraged.

Everything in you desired to yell and shout at him but you had to play this smart, you couldn't waste more time. Taking a breath "Fine. Let's just go to bed yeah?" you spoke in a defended tone, giving him the puppy eyes he couldn't resist, Namor just laid his forehead against yours "I love you Luciérnaga. (firefly)" he kissed you, you kissed back already feeling guilty but your sisters need you "I love you too" you smiled and began to get ready for bed. You opened your eyes and looked at your dead sleep husband, you quietly snatched your old suit, a few clothes and walked into your walk-in pantry, pulling down a fake cereal box, your closet of weapons showed, you grabbed your two pistols and throwing knives, and keys to the car and stuffing them in the large backpack. You left a note saying that you would be back and not to worry although you knew that was pointless he would worry but worth a shot, you signed your name, and a I love you and left.

You stared at your GPS 'Well she said to meet her here' you got out of the vehicle and into the ever-going meadow, after a good 20-minute walk, you see a man with two women one with red hair and the other blonde standing in front of a helicopter, you recognized them almost immediately with tears in your eyes "Natasha! Yelena!" you called out, their heads snapped to your direction as you run closer, you could see a smile on Natasha's face and shock and disbelief on Yelenas. See their faces brought up the only few good memories of your childhood. The fake holiday photos, the whistling that you shared, playing with other kids, lessons you learn as a normal kid would, Melina and Alexel, your mother and father, Natasha and Yelena, your older and younger sisters. When you made it to them, you hugged Yelena, and she stood there before she hugged you back "Sister." she whispered, you almost couldn't hear her "Сестра, я скучал по тебе. (sister, I have missed you)" you whispered and rubbed her back. "What about me?" Natasha joked "Not so much. You were too busy playing hero." you teased back, letting go of Yelena "So, who's ass we're gonna kick?" you questioned looking between your sisters "Actually we're broking Alexei out of prison." Natasha corrected you.

You got ready in the white combat suit that Natasha give you, as you were fastening the belt you catch a glance of the ring that bounded you to namor and you placed a kiss on it before putting your wedding ring into your pocket for safekeeping. Taking a deep breath, you grabbed a rope on the other side of the helicopter, both you and Natasha swung down while she landed in a pose, 'God, such a poser' you rolled your eyes and kicked one of the guards off the narrow walkway before landing on your feet. Another guard rushed to you to avenge his fallen coworker just as your feet hit the walkway, quickly you delivered an around-house kick to his side, slamming him into the railing, and the two other guards on your side ran to you, fists and guns raised when you heard a "Duck!" coming from behind you, and you dropped to your knees, to see a rope with a big metal clip bang into their heads, knocking them out. Four Guards ran out the door to you, the first wheeled his arm back and swung his fist forward, you leaned back avoiding the punch, and grabbed his arm moving him to the side which gave you an opening, you kicked him three times in the left side of his torso and then to the stomach sending him flying into his coworker behind him, they tumbled like bowling pins.

The two left blocked both sides and you smirked, you could already see the fear resonating inside them, you almost felt bad. Almost.

Not wasting a second you ran to the one on your right, and as he readied himself for your attack, you slide underneath his legs and used one of your knives to slash his ankle you, threw your knife into his back, and his face hit the metal walkway, the other jolted his foot out coming towards your face, he missed. You rolled away and lifted yourself on your knees, and just as he tried to kick you again you swapped his feet from below him as he fell to his knees you punched him in the face, his head banged into the railing hard and he collapsed cold. You went to get up but you immediately squatted down as the helicopter lowered almost hitting you and Nat, who began to yell at Yelena, to which your younger sister just did a thumbs up.

You and your older sister continue to fight the seaming endless prison guards waiting for Alexei to get to your level. You punched your final guy three times In the face and pushed him over the rail, who was honestly your best friend in this prison broke, you stop dead in your tracks at the sound of a rocket launcher being shot and ice breaking, you didn't even look to the mountains to confirm your suspicion. You turn to Natasha "Nat! We have to go now! Or else we'll be buried alive!" you shouted over panicked screams, Natasha kicked a guard in the face before turning to you "Go! I'll get Alexei!" She shouted back "Are you sure?!" she nodded. You grabbed your rope, climbed up, and into the helicopter, you took a sharp inhale as you sat beside Yelena and put on the headgear anxiety gripping your heart for your sister and father as you watched as snow began to flow down to the Russian prison.

Natasha quickly grabbed the rope and secured herself to it as Yelena turned around and flew the copter to the walkway level, you sighed in relief as both you and your sister looked down, Natasha was able to get Alexei as the copter flew upwards, Yelena laughed and smiled, you giggled as you high fived each other. Natasha and Alexel climbed into the helicopter. Nat stood up and walked towards you, putting on headgear as Alexei cursed the prison Russian before closing the door of the old copter, "oh, I'm so proud of you girls." he spoke after catching his breath standing beside Natasha, though neither of you replied, "Oh, you can't hear me, huh?" he said loudly, laughing he grabbed a headset for his own "Wow" he started but didn't get to finish as Yelena backhanded him the face.

"Okay," he groaned"Why the aggression, huh?" he looked at Yelena "is it your time of the mouth?" God, you hated that fucking question "We don't get periods fuckface. We don't have uteruses." you answered for her, your blood boiling with anger but your voice was calm despite this "Or ovaries." Natasha added, Alexei looked between you three "Yeah, That's what happens when the Red room gives you an involuntary hysterectomy. They kind of just go in and they rip out all of your reproductive organs." Yelena turned around and gestured with her hands "They just get right in there and they chop them all away. Everything out, so you can't have babies." "Okay, Okay, Okay! Okay!" Alexei cut her off not bothering to hide his disgust.

"You don't have to get so clinical and nasty." he spoke sitting down on the chair closest to you "Oh, well, I was about to talk about fallopian tubes but okay." She replies, you smiled and shook your head, looking out the window finding this conversation amusing. "It means so much to me that you came back for me." "No. No. You're gonna tell us how to get to the Red Room." Natasha spoke up "Whoa, look at you, huh? All business." Alexei looked at Natasha "Trust me, this isn't pleasure." she rolled her eyes "Little Natasha, all indoctrinated into the Western agenda." he looked at you three again before his focus went onto your older sister "I chose to go west to become an Avenger, 'cause they treated me like family." She defended herself, refusing to look at her 'Father' "Really? Family? Well, where are they now." Alexei asked, knowing full well what happened. You pursed your lips and continued to look out the window with a glare as Yelena quietly looked at your sister "Where is that family now?" his eyes bored into her "Tell me where the red room is." She fired, her hand gripping the wall behind the driver's seat.

"I have no idea." you and Yelena just scoffed, Natasha finally looked at him, took off the headset, ripped Alexei's off, and sat across from him, "Come on. You and Dreykov we're like..." "Dreykov? General Dreykov, my friend, huh? Gives me glory...Soviet union's first and only super soldier. I could have been more famous than Captain America. Then he buries me in Ohio on that stupid mission" He looked at you and Yelena as you both looked back at him "Three years! So tedious, boring me to tears." You looked straightforward with your fist tightened, fighting the urge to go back there and punch him in the face "No offense, huh?" you rolled your eyes 'yeah like that would make it better' Yelena just shook her head "Then puts me in prison for the rest of my life. Why huh? Why? Why would he put me in...You know why? 'Cause, maybe I want to talk about the withering of the state. Or maybe I don't like his hair or something and I say something casually about that. Maybe you know, I want the Party to feel actually like a party instead of this sourpuss organization. But instead, no. He puts me in prison for the rest of my life. He just runs off and hides, huh?" he finished his 'sad' sob story kicking the toolbox close to him like a child "I'm not even the who, uh, you know..." he quickly pointed at Natasha "I'm not the one who killed his daughter." he said "Can we throw him out the fucking window now?" you asked, already done with his bullshit, "I think we should wait till we get to a higher altitude." Nat answered, "All right." Yelena nodded "Почему бы не спросить Мелину, где он? (Why not ask Melinda where it is?)" Alexei suggested snarkily speaking over your younger sister "Wait, Mom Melina?" Yelena looked back at him, with shock "We thought she was dead." You and Natasha looked at him to which he scoffed "You cannot kill a fox that swift." he smirked.

"Ew." you whispered under your breath "She was the scientist, the strategist I was the muscle. She worked directly for Dreykov far more than I ever did." he informed you "She is working for the Red Room present day?" Natasha asked and leaned forward to see if he was telling the truth "She works remotely outside St. Petersburg." Alexei confirmed. "I don't think we have enough fuel for St. Petersburg." Yelena doubted "No. We're good we'll make it." just like Yelena said the copter fall to the ground, and she was to get it down safely. You sighed as you pushed the heavy door out your way, Natasha, Yelena, and Alexei following you out fields of purple flowers, grass, and trees were all you could see "You should've brought the Avengers superjet." Alexei told Natasha, you glared at him before walking away with your sisters, you swear if he said one more thing you were gonna kick him where the sun don't shine, and then in the face "I swear, if you I hear one more word from him, I will kick him in the face." She spat, thinking the same as you unknowingly "He's the worst." you chuckled "Natasha." Alexei called out "Natasha. Natasha. Come here, I want to ask you something" he beckoned her, you walked farther ahead you didn't want to hear his stupid voice.

Yelena and you stopped and turned around as Natasha's voice raised in volume "What is with this tension?" Alexei questioned, sounding like a kicked puppy "Did I do something wrong?" he really was so stupid and an ignorant, selfish prick "Is that a serious question?" You asked, "I only ever loved you, girls. I did my best to make sure you would succeed. To achieve your fullest and everything worked out." Alexei spoke up like a disappointed father "Everything worked out?" Natasha asked sarcastically "Yes. For you, yes. We accomplished our mission in Ohio. (Y/n) you went on to become the deadliest and most ruthless black widow in the world. Yelena, you went on to become one of the greatest child assassin, and Natasha, not just a spy not just toppling regimes and destroying Empires from within but an Avenger. You three have killed so many people. Your ledgers must be dripping, just gushing red." he pulled you three into a group hug " I couldn't be more proud of you." you pushed him off you, and walked off Natasha didn't hesitate to do the same, Yelena let him hug her a bit more before stalking off to her bigger sisters.

After an hour of walking, you made it to a barged gated sanctuary where your mom stood with a sniper rifle, she took a minute to look between all four of you "Honey, we're home." Alexei smiled, silently she made it to her house Alexei began to follow her "Come on, girls." you and your sisters followed them "Welcome to my humble boat." Melina opened the door and walked through "Make yourself at home." you nodded at looked around the cozy house "Let's have a drink." She sighed as she put away the rifle. You and Yelena sat down beside each other at the dining table, Natasha and Melina sat down not too long ago as you hear Alexei grunting in the bathroom, you wished you could be anywhere besides here right now. you rather be dick down than sit in this awkward atmosphere "Let's drink." your mother suggested grabbing the bottle of alcohol. The sound of a bathroom door opening and Alexei clearing his throat brought your attention to him, you wish you hadn't "Still fits." Melina wolf-whistled and clapped officially traumatizing you "I never washed it once" she admitted, "Come drink." he sat down "Family. Back together again." he smiled looking at his 'family' through Melina corrected him, that they shouldn't use that term anymore "Agreed so here's what's going to happen..." "Okay. A reunion then, huh?" Your dad cut off Natasha reaching over to grab the tub of strawberries

"I want to say something right off the bat. You have an age today huh? You're just as beautiful and as supple as the day they staged our marriage." you shot down your drink, you wanted it felt something other than the absolute disgust within "You got fat. But still good." She flirted as Alexei chuckled " I just got out of prison first. I, uh..." he looked at you three before looking back at Melina " I have a lot of energy." he admitted suggestively "Oh!" she gasped "Please don't do that." Natasha spoke up for the three of you before getting down to business "so, here's what's going to happen." "Natasha, down slouch." Melina scolded her.

"I'm not slouching." she straightened her back like she wasn't "Yes, yes you are." " I don't slouch" Natasha defended herself pitifully "You're going to have a back hunch." Melina gestured with her body. You watched the scene with a small smile for a nonfamily you guys sure acted like one "Listen to your mother." Alexei added "All right enough. All of you" Nat looked at both you and Yelena "We didn't say anything." you started, your smile gone "That's not fair." Yelena continued "Here's what's going to happen..." Natasha started again "I don't want any food." Yelena said as Melina piled food onto yours and her plate "Eat a little something, (Y/n), Yelena, for God's sake." your mother scolded you two "You're going to tell us the location of the Red room." Natasha finished "You know, it's like when you told them that they could stay up late to catch Santa Clause," She said tearfully looking at Alexei " what that was fun. You know, "he come down to the chimney girls. lookout. Where is he?" You wait for him, and then when the cookies are gone, you see he's there. I want them to follow their dreams." "No good." Melina shook her head "Reach for the stars girls." he said loudly "Finding Dreykov is not a fantasy. It's unfinished business." Natasha said seriously "You can't defend a man who commands the very well of others." Melina finally answered got up and came back with a tablet "Come in." she said to what looked like no particular then the door opened and a pig walks.

"Did that pig? Just walk in here, I'm not just seeing things, y'all saw it too?" "Yes. It did." Melina spoke keeping her eyes on the pig, and proceeded to use mind control on it, forcing it to stop breathing. You looked away, gripping your silver spoon, you couldn't, didn't want to watch, she helped the man who used you and your sisters, mother, and girls to do his dirty bidding, She unknowingly used that on all three of you.

"The world functions on a higher level when it is controlled," she said after dismissing 'Alexei' the pig "Dreykov has chemically subjugated agents planted around the globe." she poured herself a drink "And do you know who they test it on?" Yelena asked stoically "Hmm...No that's not my department." Melina looked at her "Don't lie to them. hmm?" Alexei watched as Melina poured him a drink "I'm not lying." "You're Dreykov's architect, huh?" "Where were you? If I was his architect you were his partner. You were his business partner" Your parents began to argue "Shut up! You are an idiot." Natasha spat at Alexei "And you're a coward." She turned to Melina " You're a coward." Nat repeated "And our family was never real, so there's nothing to hold on to. We're moving on" Your gaze snapped to her "Never family, huh? In my heart, I am a simple man. And I think that for a couple deep undercover Russian agents, I think we did pretty great as parents, huh?" Alexei said, "Yes, we had our orders, and we played our roles to perfection." Melina agreed "Who cares? That wasn't real." Natasha shook her head, on the verge of tears "What?" Yelena looked at her, hurting betrayal in her eyes.

"Don't say that." you finally spoke up, causing the whole table to look at you " It was real. It was real to me." Yelena said shaky, pointing to herself "You are my mother." she gestured and looked at Melina "You were my real mother. The closest thing I ever had to one. The best part of my life was fake and none of you told me. And those agents you chemically subjugated around the globe?" Yelena paused "That was us. That was me." Melina looked at her shocked, Yelena's stare switched between Natasha and you "You both got out. Dreykov made sure no one else could escape. Gonna say anything Natasha?" she asked glaring at your older sister "No." she nodded and grabbed the whiskey bottle and stormed off.

"I had no idea" your mother looked from her lap to Alexei "It's okay, it's okay. I'll talk to her." he grabbed his helmet off from the floor and walked the way, Yelena went. Natasha got up and walked toward the weaponry pantry, declaring she do it herself as you and Melina remained at the table "Don't, you wouldn't survive." Melina called after her "I wish I could believe that you cared." Natasha answer back "But you're not even the first mother that abandoned me." you rolled your eyes as you walked to your sister, your mother by your side "No, you weren't abandoned." Melina said, "You were selected by a program, that assessed the genetic potential in infants." Natasha looked at her in shock as you just leaned against the wall bookshelves behind your mother with only thoughts wringing that fat fucks neck like you always wanted to and to be home, with Namor, in his arms, he must be so worried and probably pissed at you. You can't keep lying to him after this is done, you'll tell him everything. He deserves to know, he deserved to know a long time ago the night he found you on the beach with wounds bleeding out, the night you escape. Black widows came from all directions, and you killed every. single. one you wasn't called the deadliest and ruthless black widow for nothing. When you had finally made it safely, exhaustion and pain dig their claws into you, and dragged you down into the sand, you were sure of yourself that it was that, you were gonna die there cold, and alone but your fish man saw you, took pity on you, nurse you back to health. Sealing your fate with him.

You finally came to reality when Natasha pulled you into the pantry and went over her and Melina's plan, she handed you an earpiece and Melina give you a run down on what to expect. You couldn't wait to fuck up those bastards, All you had to do is let yourself get caught.

You groan and shook your head, feeling sluggish from the sedatives, the cell you're held in was somewhat completely White except for the red bed and black floor, the door was made out of pure glass, you looked at the vents that your mother said would be exactly there. You grabbed the throwing knives that Natasha put in your pocket and throw one in between one of the little cracks in the ceiling, with such force it swung open. You picked out the dropped knife and walked onto your cell bed, you grabbed the side on the open vent and took a deep breath as you exiled, you jumped and swung yourself upwards into the metal Airway once landing in a crouch, you quickly reached down and closed the vent. 'just keep going until you find a two-way and make a left, Yelena should be getting surgery, I have Natasha put a knife in her pocket but get to her as fast as possible.' your mother's words ring out, you got there in only a minute, the vent overlooked the surgical area where Yelena lied strapped to a stretcher, you just needed to wait for the moment to strike "What?" Yelena asked out loud, Melina had to have told her about the blade "What are you going to do to me?" she covered up looking at a surgeon. That was your cue, you dropped down, and the harsh sound of metal crashing against the floor alerted the surgeons, wasting no time you pulled out a knife and throw it to the surgeon by the computer, the blade plunged itself into his skull, his body falls to the floor in a pool of blood, as the other surgeon stood shocked Yelena took this time to cut herself and knock him out.

"You couldn't have told me sooner?" She asked you, with a glare "I didn't have time, sorry." you shrugged as you both left the area to find the antidote "Where did he take the vials?" Yelena asked your mother, wiping away the maker on her forehead "Yeah. sure. Easy." She replied to something Melina said as you walked into a long corridor. Yelena picked up the vent and moved aside before dropping down first in a pose after she got up, you dropped down rolling your eyes "Poser." you walked past her "I'm not a poser." "You just posed." "Well i-" you shushed her, looking around the corner to a guard standing there "one up ahead," you informed her quietly " I got this." She smirked, running forward, she hooked her arm around his neck and swing her body to the side, then let him go before sweeping kicking him, knocking him cold. "Cool, right?" She panted her hands on her knees " I could have done better." you playfully teased her, griping his legs and dragging him to the touchpad and with Yelena's help put his hand on it. The doors slide open and clear cabinets filled the whole room, medication and sedatives poison any liquid form contained in them, you both looked at each side "Yelena." you called out to her pointing to the glowing red vials "Melina, we found the location of the vials." she told her, suddenly bright red lights filled the space, you took as a sign run so you did just that, Yelena by your side "Fantastic, We're heading to the widows now." "Fuck." you sighed as the room of what should have been training widows was empty, Yelena noticed a pin wall filled with weapons and grabbed one of the smoke bombs and rubber bands of the vials to it "Let's go," she said running out the other door, you following after her, you opened the door to Dreykov's office, you were about to go in there to help Natasha fight off the widows when Yelena held you back and throw the antidote into the air, the vials breaking and sprinkling down onto the windows, freeing them "Natasha," you started, dropping to your knees in front "You okay?" you pushed her hair away from her forehead, looking at the damage "I'm fine." She reassured you taking your hand and getting up with you "That looks like it hurts" Yelena wrapped her hand around the knife in Natahsa's shoulder as you help Natasha walk to her "Okay. I take out on there, ready?" Yelena asked and yanked it out "I'm sorry." She muttered as Natasha screamed out in pain "Mitä me teemme nyt? (What do we do now?)." a widow asked in Finnish between you and your sisters "You live." you spoke looking at every widow "And get as far away from here as possible." Natasha said, "You get to finally make your own choices now." Yelena add, the moment of peace was entreated by the sounds of explosions.

"We gotta get outta here." Natasha looked at you and Yelena "We need to find Dreykov. Are you coming?" Yelena asked her "I'm right behind you," Natasha said moving to Dreykov's desk to grab something "I'll stay with her go!" you lightly pushed Yelena out to lead the free widows. You watched Nat pull out a ring and slide it against a screen in the desk drawer and type in something, put a Drive into a small box processor to download the files of the widows around the world, you groaned and winced looking away as Natasha snapped her nose back, despite killing and being around countless deaths, you couldn't stand to see your loved ones hurt "Nat." you said in a worried tone, hearing the glass break around you "Just a little bit longer." she continued to stare at the loading screen "Finally!" she quickly grabbed the Drive and you grabbed what was left over the vials and you both ran out the room but the elevator busted out fire, both of you ducked out the way and ran to the waiting room, Natasha pulled out her twin pistols and shot out the glass.

You jumped out into the sky down the red room, you reached out for the outdoor walkway rail, and as its fell from the weight of you and your older sister, you swing yourself into the open busted window from Below, Natasha following not soon after, you ran down the hallway. You granted as you slammed into a wall, having some equipment hit you, you pushed it away and ran again ducking and weaving out of the way from the falling ceilings and items "Natasha!" you screamed as she fall down the floor from a large piece of the ceiling fell on her "Go! I'll be okay!" she yelled back "fuck." you whisper, jumping on your heels debating before eventually listening to her, and jumped over the hole and continue to run down the hallway. Three of the red room's guards saw you and began to shoot at you, really even as you were failing to your deaths they still wanted to kill you? without stopping, you slipped two of your throwing knife and aimed them at the two guards, took in a breath pulled your arms back, and release the blades forward, one stuck itself into the throat on the left and the other landed into the gun's barrel, the guard didn't notice until too late as it blasted into his face, the middle guard got lucky, one bullet lunged into your shoulder but you just gritted your teeth and tackled the man out the windows. You stole a quick glance past his shoulder, the landing pad was a good 3ft drop and you were heading there fast, the guy still wanting to kill you tried to shoot you again but you knocked the gun out of his hand and used it to hit him in the head repeatedly, the ground catch up, you rolled off his body and standing up, a guard in his mind ran past you with a parachute "I'll take that." you pulled him back by the parachute and sweep him off your feet, and kicked him in the face "Okay. Where is my family?" you looked around the chaos while you put on the parachute, immediately you notice Natasha hanging off the side of a wing beside you but also Dreykov rushing into a helicopter and Yelena running to him, you ran after her as the wing began to collapse onto the landing pad, your eyes widened when you realized what she was planning Natasha caught up to you, running side by side "Yelena!" Natasha screamed out "Don't you dare do it!" You screamed out "This was fun!" Yelena yelled back with a smile "No!" you and Natasha yelled but like Yelena, she didn't listen at plugged her staff into the engine of the helicopter causing it to blow up and push her back into the sky.

Natasha grabbed a randomly placed parachute and jumped "Please be okay!" you prayed, jumping with her. driving y forward you and Natasha flew through a fallen helicopter window, you two made it to her, and Natasha put on the parachute on Yelena and pulled the trigger, everything seemed still until in the corner of your eye a weirdly dressed guard was zooming towards you, Natasha pushed Yelena and you out of the andy and then flew to the ground the guard following her. You got separated from Yelena, and a large portion of a wall was coming to you without any way to pass it, you pushed yourself backward and landed on your feet on the wall, ran to the edge, and pushed off, a smaller one was behind but this time you could fly out the way. You were getting closer to the ground so you pull the trigger to your parachute and ducked and rolled onto your feet with what seemed to practice ease though you never went skydiving, you slide it off, held onto your shoulder to stop the bleeding, and walked around for your sisters amongst the fallen debris "Yelena! (Y/n)!" you heard not too far away "Natasha!!" you yelled running to where her voice was "(Y/n)!!" you smiled as you see your big sister and ran into her arms "Are you okay?" she asked hugging you tightly "just a bullet wound, nothin' major." you grinned as she fussed over "Come let's worry about that later, we need to find Yelena." she nodded "Yelena!" "There!" you pointed to her she lay in between debris, her parachute hovering over her on a fallen bar lucky she wasn't trapped, you and Natasha slide to your knees once you made it to her, Natasha shook her "Yelena?" you asked worriedly, Yelena opened her eyes looking between you and your other sister, both clouding her vision and smiled "We're upside down." she got up with a groan and turned to face you "простите меня сестры (Forgive me, sisters)" Natasha spoke "You're my sisters, it was real to me too and Yelena I should've come back for you." she cried "You don't have to say that" Yelena replied "it's okay," you added holding her hand while Yelena laid her forehead against your older sister's, you turned to look at your mother and father after hearing a grunt. All three of you stood up from oldest to youngest watching your parents make their way to you "You good?" Natasha asked Melina "I am clearly injured" your mother replied "You got something to say?" she asked Alexei "I'd just mess it up" he answered offering his hand to her which she took it. The sounds of vehicles came "Here comes the cavalry." Natasha sighed "so what's our plan?" Melina asked "You guys go. I'll stay." "That's insanity. We fight. We fight with you." Alexei spoke up "I'll hold them off." "Natasha, we fight." "We can't split up. You're so pigheaded." "You guys, go" Natasha put her feet down "Besides if it can work out with the five of us, you know, there may be some hope for the Avengers. little bit." she smiled "If you're leaving take this." Yelena took off her vest "I know how much you like it." "Shucks" Natasha laughed "He had widows implanted all over the world," you informed Yelena "Mother will need to copy the formula" you handed her the vials "You should be the one to tell 'em it's over" Natasha nodded to her suddenly the sound of a jet engine landed before your family.

The widows you freed earlier stepped out, walking to Yelena "You came back for us." Yelena looked at them "Мы бы не оставили вас позади. (We wouldn't leave you behind)" one of them said and Yelena walked through the sea of former black widows, touching their hands as she walked by "Thank you." you smiled whistling goodbye Natasha, Yelena shortly joining in, after a minute, a second Natasha whistle back and You, Yelena and parents aborted the jet, you didn't know it but this would be the last time you saw your older sister.

You groaned, holding onto your bandage shoulder, everything ached and hurt, your feet felt like you are walking on glass, and your knees buckled a few times as you walked to the beach house that you shared with your husband, you felt such a relief once you saw it you can't wait to take a shower blood and dirt caked on your face and body but the relief turn to frightfulness as you watched as Namor storm off the porch into you "Baby i-i promise to ever run off like that and I'll tell you everythi—" you started once he stood before you, his hands grabbing you face and pulled you in a kiss full of emotion worry, relief, and love. Tears filled your closed eyes the whole time you acted like you weren't scared but you were, scared you'd never see him again "Do not worry about anything, I'm glad you're back and you can tell me everything once you're ready." he laid his forehead against yours.

"Let's go home In yakunaj."

@h34rtsformilli @lavnderluv @percyjacksonstransbrother @omgsuperstarg @t4inteds0rrow @namorslit @simp2537 @thatlesbosimp @roxytheimmortal

[cheezihouse]

I’m so curious about Maeve!! Tell me all ALLL about her. What’s she like, how was she raised? Who are her kids??

Yess!! I love Maeve, she is definitely one of my favorites. Here is definitely a bit of a ramble, but a rewarding size chart of her and her husband. ;0

—- —- —-

Maeve, in her campaign, is the leader of the Meadow district and rules over her area. It consists mainly of wooded areas, often referred to as the ‘forest district’.

She’s an 8’3 transfem character I have; she’s a kind individual, but rules more sternly- much how her family before he ruled. She speaks primarily forest-sign, which uses all four of her hands!

Her family is well-respected- her parents, older twin brothers, and her. She was raised in a completely supportive environment, her parents were excited to have an empress taking over the district.

Her husband, Zephyr, was born in this area and lived in it all his life. (Made by my boyfriend @nuclearcow ) As well as looked up to her when she gained leadership, as it was inspiring to see someone trans in such a high power-ship.

Their interactions start off light, but heavily increased as the two took a huge liking to each other. They fall in love, get married, the whole works.

Despite drawing Maeve carrying, her husband actually carried their children. (A 5’4 drow carrying a 8’3 forest dweller’s babies)

Cosmos and Marlow - First, and a set of twin boys

Perrin - Their third child, a baby girl

Dahlia - She’s actually adopted, found in Zephyr’s shop. She’s a centaur, which was conflicting to the two as she has a MUCH shorter lifespan. Nevertheless, they raised her as their complete own- being there until she was gone.

[littjara-mirrorlake]

Daily Life in the Phyrexian Spheres (Maze to Bays)

Previous: Facade to Furnace

The Maze is a thick tangle of coppered greenery and savage beasts shielding loyalist Phyrexia from the outskirts of the plane, posing a significant challenge to attackers moving in or rebels moving out. In theory, the domain ruled by Vorinclex and Glissa is loyal to Elesh Norn and stands ready to serve the Orthodoxy. In practice, most Maze denizens don't discriminate between Mirran or Phyrexian, loyalist or rebel. All are prey unless they can prove their worthiness to survive, and many an Orthodoxy enforcer realizes too late that their authority provides no shield from the dangers of the wild.

Though the Maze's savage reputation is well-earned, areas of tranquility remain, shielded by dense growth. Bubbling ichor wellsprings, nexuses of mana, and meadows of rare and exotic flowers await those with the skill to find them. Pockets of relative civilization also exist, such as the living quarters of priests, aspirants, and commoners, woven or grown into the landscape's coppery scaffolding. Common roles include the upkeep of local plant life and the study and augmentation of predators, carried out by Phyrexians known as stewards.

Not all Maze residents subscribe to Vorinclex and Glissa's ideology of weeding out the weak, though, and many form communities and care for those close to them. They are reluctant to aid outsiders, usually more out of self-preservation than an idea of social Darwinism (though many justify it with the latter). Luckily, no one is enforcing their obedience or ideologies--all Maze-dwellers must do is survive. Though predators run rampant, actual policing and enforcer presence is almost nonexistent here, making the Maze a suitable location for canny rebels to hide. In particular, the border between the Maze and the Furnace is a hotspot for illegal activity--another region that praetors consider beneath their notice.

The Bays are the heart of Phyrexia's surveillance state. Every feature of the landscape, from buildings to "trees" and the great skylights themselves, is studded with ever-watching eyestalks. The cameras' ubiquity reminds residents of their duty to obey--after all, you've got nothing to fear if you've got nothing to hide. Mind magic is heavily used, and memory redaction is common. The infrastructure of the sphere itself is also carefully micromanaged, down to local climate patterns. Control centers are overseen by ranking officials but staffed by commoners, who desperately beat back the unseemly Tangle growth that reaches down here.

Religion takes a backseat here in favor of hard science, and some researchers brazenly deny the Orthodoxy and claim experimentation as Phyrexia's truest way ahead. After all, the Progress Engine's primary export is research, and its titanic labs demand a steady influx of talent, raw materials, and captive test subjects (both Mirran and Phyrexian). Compleat creatures that fall short of their duties are often "repurposed" this way. Vast amounts of information are stored in archives of glistening oil and quicksilver.

Even in this sphere of eyes, however, dissidents carve out bubbles of secrecy. Drones and cameras can be covertly hacked, and mental defenses are meticulously constructed to mislead. Spy networks infiltrate nearly every level of Gitaxian academia, pilfering research and weaponry to aid the rebellion's cause.

A quirk of Surgical Bay life, which bleeds over into the other spheres, is the tendency of tools and inanimate devices to be replaced by living Phyrexian creatures known as skites. From syringes to chests and telescopes, even the most mundane items skitter on their own accord, and railings for them to walk on are built into most rooms. These simple creatures are roughly equivalent to trained animals, and variants are employed by both loyalists and rebels to spy on their opposition.

[vennilavee]

iii. the savior

blood and pearls masterlist

wc: 1.6k

summary: the eye of the storm brings you something unexpected.

warnings: mentions of cannibalism

The forest remains untouched despite the heavy, violent storm that had passed by not two nights ago. The land must be under some kind of spell for it to escape the fiery tendrils of the storm, you conclude. Perhaps it is due to a pact with the four-armed demon who sits by the mountains.

Heavy rains and inky, black clouds hung low in the sky, but somehow the sunshine peaked through. Your rock remained pristine and the waters remained glittering despite the lightning and thunder rumbling and rattling deep within the meadows beyond.

You had braced yourself for the worst of it. To feel your father’s wrath, the damnation for your disobedience. You had expected to drown in the endless downpour, to fall to your doom like many sailors and pirates you once knew.

And yet, the morning dew hangs off of fresh blades of grass, as if the world is not being pulled apart along the horizon in front of your very eyes.

He is far away, sitting on his castle up on the mountain, but his power knows no bounds. Even the sky above and the sea below have no say in what occurs in Sukuna’s domain, much less your father and his manufactured maelstrom.

Perhaps he is correct. Perhaps he is a god, after all.

But even so, you do not bow to him when he rudely approaches you on your rock. You are resting, allowing the moonlight to wash over you in bliss. It is one of your most favorite parts of the day, and this beast is interrupting you with a scowl of displeasure. His broad, bulky frame nearly covers your view of the moon. As if he wouldn’t pluck the moon right from the sky just to prove that this is his domain.

“The storm has subsided,” you say airily, “It’s flooded everywhere except here.”

“The people pray to me for good weather and good fortune,” Sukuna replies, his voice a low, tender growl, “I am a man of my word.”

“Were you not a god seven nights ago? Now you are a mere man?” you turn your head away from him to look up at the moon once more.

He thinks it’s no coincidence that small waves wash upon his feet, as if to beckon him closer towards you. You blink at him with eyes as opaque as the water beneath you and a coy, unfamiliar smile.

So he steps forward, allowing his ankles to be submerged.

“Careful,” you say with a hint of playfulness, “You’re in my domain now.”

“You are mistaken,” he says as he wades through the water, but with none of the familiar vexation on his face. He is quite handsome when he isn’t glaring murderously at you. 

The water is warm, despite the chilly night air. Sukuna wonders if that is due to your influence. Your smile makes him think it is. The rock you lay upon has many sharp, jagged edges, making it easy for anyone to cut their limbs and bleed out. But he watches as you smooth the edges out for him to climb your beloved rock.

Sukuna does not know much of the magic of water dwellers. The twirling of your fingers is melodic and entrancing as they cut through the air to allow him entry to your precious rock. 

“I don’t need your help,” he claims as you create a flattened pathway of stones that splits the water in two. And yet, he places one foot after the other as he walks on your stones towards your rock. Sukuna notices that the stones change shape as he approaches you, shifting from smooth to jagged and from small pebbles to large pieces of rubble.

You could drop him straight into the shrouded darkness of the lake and let the sea creatures attempt to devour him if you so desired.

Sukuna sits at the top of your rock as if it’s his throne made of blood and skulls. As if you didn’t spend all this time making this lake yours. He is a man who takes and takes, hardly ever giving unless it’s in his best interest.

The storm continues to flare in the sky in sharp blitzes of deep red, almost like streaks of blood. But it’s as dry as ever on your rock.

His lightning maroon eyes are trained up at the moon as he follows your reverent gaze. What’s so special about it anyway? 

He could rip it out of the sky if he so desired. That’s what god’s do, after all.

“It’s more plush when you lie down,” you murmur, patting the space next to you. He is reluctant, but he listens for once. You are unable to conceal the surprised pout that forms on your lips. But you are right- it is as if he is laying on a bed of flowers rather than the cold, hard edges of this rock.

Despite his broad shoulders and four massive arms, Sukuna looks comfortable enough.

You sigh contentedly, the warmth radiating off of the four armed demon-god nearly putting you to sleep. 

“Don’t get comfortable,” his voice is low and jarring, cutting through the peaceful night air with the sound of a thousand knives. You don’t reply, only ignoring him and turning on your side to face him.

Sukuna refuses to look into your deep eyes, for fear of drowning a watery death. “You do not belong here, or have you forgotten already in that pathetic brain of yours?”

You scoff. “It has been weeks. Months even. Give it a rest, Sukuna.”

He glares at you.

“My lord,” you say with unveiled insult and laughter in your voice.

“You are a fucking thorn to be removed and squashed-”

“And yet, here you are in my company, on my rock, looking at my moon,” you say smugly.

“Your moon?” Sukuna says incredulously.

“Yes, she guides me,” you beam at him, that ridiculously bright smile of yours nearly blinding him. It irks him to no end.

“Tell her to guide you back where you belong. To the sea,” he retorts, flicking your forehead harshly. You glare at him and curl your fingers lightly to send a soft whip of water at his chest.

“She brought me here. I have not lost faith in her yet,” your voice quiets down, as if you are protecting some deep, dark secret in the caves of your heart. Sukuna does not care for what it is, nor does he ask.

“You hold faith in something that is destined to rise every night. That is not faith, that is routine. Consistency…”

“Is there a difference?”

“You are a foolish girl,” Sukuna says, ignoring the vexation on your face, “A naive girl lost in the woods all by herself, believing in dead men’s tales. A stupid girl out of the water, where she has come to die by the hands of men and gods-”

“I am in your domain and you will not let harm befall any creature in your domain. Isn’t that a god’s duty?” you sneer derisively.

“I have not decided if you are worthy of saving yet, you monstrosity of the water.”

“Do let me know when you decide, monstrosity of the land.”

Instead of storming off in a show of impatience and irritation, he shifts further on the rock so that your shoulders are very nearly touching. You can see each curve and edge of his markings on his arms and his face, but you refuse to allow your eyes to wander to his chest.

A chill washes over your body as an image of blood dribbling down his lips to his chest flashes behind your eyes. You should be afraid of him, the way death is written plainly on those markings that adorn his body.

There are rumors of him- that he eats the newborn children of the youngest women in the villages surrounding the forest, then he eats the women themselves. Ryomen Sukuna has a penchant for blood and glory, that much you know.

There are other rumors of him, that hundreds of years ago he used to be an esteemed warrior who won many battles and wars with his armies. Or a sorcerer. You are not certain what the difference is.

You wonder if it’s true, and you would like to find out.

“Why are you here?” Sukuna finally asks after a few moments of silence, “Why have you spent your days here and not in the ocean, with your sisters?”

He meets your eyes that are dark and reminiscent of the ocean, but he doesn’t stare for too long. He has heard tales of foolish pirates falling to their deaths because of a simple look of a mermaid’s alluring eyes. Sukuna does not stare for too long, but finds it difficult to look away. There is a glint in your eye only made brighter by the light of the moon drenching your skin in pale light.

Somehow the moonlight always seems to find you.

“The ocean is lonely and vast. I do not wish to spend my days alone with only the sun and the moon as company. I do not wish to be shackled to the water any longer,” you murmur defiantly, allowing your hand to brush against his arm. You nearly recoil from the heat of his skin, but maintain your embrace.

He does not shove you away, only staring at you with those ardent eyes.

“I do not care if you stay or leave from here. Stay out of my way and do not let me catch you in places you don’t belong, girl.”

Before Sukuna sits up to retreat into the night, he leaves you with one parting thought: “There is only one god you should beg for mercy from, and you should do well to remember who it is. Your precious moon will bleed and your ocean will turn to sky if that is my will.”

You watch him part the lake with one graceful swirl of his fingers and he vanishes back into the mountains before you can blink.

You wish to visit the mountains.

tags: kentobean @misslovingpearl @aeanya @mystikalini @helenas-revenge