#mikiel giacho

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Some more quick lil doodle-y guys while I have nothing to do at work

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the disease fae be like you get a title! and you get a title! everyone gets a title!!

Harbinger handed out two titles: Maledict and Glaciate

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read a short fic last night that was talking about a group of characters' choice in sleepwear and i have not stopped thinking about my own mains since so

katrin - more often than not just crashes on the couch fully clothed, but on the occasions she does dress for sleeping she's likely wearing a shirt she's stolen from a friend and an old pair of leggings

nancor - also a 'sleeps in old clothes' kinda guy, hes not the type to spend frivolously on himself so hes just never owned pjs

ashe - loves those silly pyjama sets that probably have a cute cat pun t-shirt and matching print pants

mikiel - will also crash on the couch fully clothed if hes had an exhausting night at work, but otherwise generally sleeps in a singlet + shorts (which also happen to have the same pattern as his pants. man loves the black and white vertical stripes)

velour - sews his own pyjama sets obviously, and uses different materials depending on the season. heavier flannels during winter and lighter cottons for summer, and they usually tend to have a diamond motif like many of his other outfits

lucy - old t-shirt + old tracksuit pants combo, something cozy but also he could leave the hive in and not look too out of place (in case of a lighthouse-related emergency in the middle of the day). also has a big warm dressing gown that he'll wear when he's out of bed

viltau - Rich Person Silk Pyjamas. you know that man is dropping hundreds on the comfiest pj shirt and pants/shorts combo ever seen. prefers plain pjs if he's sleeping at a quad's hive / quad is staying over, but he also has one pair of cute cupcake print pjs that he bought once but won't be seen dead wearing when other people are around

glasya - singlet top or oversized shirt + big comfy print pyjama pants combo, though the pants usually go once they get into bed and they'll just sleep in their underwear

vallis - will sleep in his aquariums fully clothed, the labcoat stays on during naptime. but when he does sleep in a bed like a normal person, he is also a plain t-shirt + comfy pants kinda guy. definitely also owns a bunch of squid-themed sleeping shirts or ones with fish puns on them

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doodling a miki while i remember how to draw again

hes Going Through It

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which trolls (if any) enjoy pineapple on pizza vs hate it with a fiery passion >:)

Pineapple fans: Zotick (loves it because everyone else hates it and will send people pineapple pizzas as a prank), Soroll (he'll eat anything and dumpster-dived pineapple pizza is no exception), Callan (his actual favourite pizza topping is Aussie-style, but he'll also enjoy a good Hawaiian pizza), Aiolos (loves Hawaiian pizza, anyone who doesn't love pineapple on pizza is weak and natural selection is coming for them), Sharle (also a Will Eat Anything kinda guy, but does think pineapple on pizza gives it more flavour)

Certified pineapple hater: Mikiel (extreme snob when it comes to pizza toppings. it's either Authentic Italian-Style pizza or it's total shit. throw into the garbage immediately)

everyone else is either neutral on it or just doesn't eat pizza in general

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P much all my trolls have their ‘earth’ nationality + accent figured out, so I’ll just list my mains:

Katrin: English, specifically a lower-class London accent (I.E. the ‘chav’ accent). It’s a bit hard to tell since she tends to mumble through her words, but it’s definitely there

Nancor: Peruvian, though I haven’t decided on the exact region. His accent is pretty strong, and he knows a decent amount of Spanish as well

Callan: Australian, with the intensity of someone who most definitely grew up in Queensland. I swear every time I hear someone with an incredibly thick Aussie accent they always come from Queensland

Ashell: Hungarian. He’s lost his accent over time, but you still hear it in the way he pronounces certain words. Can also speak a small amount of Hungarian

Mikiel: Italian, probably from the more southern regions of Italy but I haven’t decided yet. The angrier he gets, the thicker his accent is

Lusien: Icelandic. His accent would be more apparent if he spoke more than a few sentences at a time. Knows a couple Icelandic words, mostly phrases his lusus + guardian would tell him as a kid to reassure / calm him

Viltau: American, specifically that ‘Hollywood’ accent actors get when they’ve had a lot of vocal coaching. His natural accent is a Boston one, which slips out when he’s really angry

Glasya: Czech. Their accent is of average intensity and doesn’t tend to fluctuate. They can speak fluent Czech (as well as Polish but that’s irrelevant to their nationality)

Vallis: Singaporean. Also of average intensity, but is more apparent on certain words. He was taught Mandarin, but he still trips up on inflections so he’s better at writing it

y'know i fucking ADORE when people give their characters like 'earth' nationalities and accents. i hope y'all know

And if you got a character with an accent or a character who has a specific nationality you should rb this w them

🔫 This is not a request

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in a random burst of motivation, i updated mikiel's toyhou.se profile to include his shiny new title + updated relationships + some extra facts to his misc. information page based on recent events

'but what about his regular tumblr profile?' you ask, but i am already tucking myself in all nice and cozy and taking a nap

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👊 your most OP trolls

HMMM id say my most OP trolls are mikiel, fleure, and vallis, but since vallis' overpowered nature is in a wildcard way (in that he cannot be killed in a way that matters) i'll do miki v fleure

for the sake of fairness id have to exclude the fact that fleure knows many instant-kill spells because otherwise he'll just curbstomp everyone, but even with that restriction he'd still handily win against mikiel

not that miki won't put up a fight of course, with his cryokinesis he is very much capable of freezing fleure's water magic, but fleure's magic is a lot more versatile and he can fire off multiple large-scale spells without breaking a sweat, so he'd be able to force mikiel into constantly playing defense against an onslaught of attacks

also he could just melt all of mikiel's ice as well, and even use his own ice magic but he's not as adept at using it compared to miki. its a jack of all trades vs master of one situation

but, miki theoretically could defeat fleure if he was able to get close enough to freeze him completely and then shatter the ice, but that requires him to get close in the first place. and that's kind of a scary thought cuz fleure is immortal but has only limited healing/regeneration abilities so i think he would still be technically alive even after being shattered to pieces and i don't wanna think about the implications of that lmao

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Hey, Miki, how’s it going? Probably. Bad. But still.

"... It's fine."

=> It's not fine, as evident by the fact that your broken elbow is still in a sling (not pictured), but as if you're going to complain to a complete stranger.

=> You're going to physical therapy for your injured leg, at least, and you've been keeping up with all the check-ups and pain medication, but mentally you're... Existing.

=> Ginger has dropped by a couple times to keep you company, and The Maledict has visited as well to thank you for assisting her - not that you feel like there's anything to thank. But, you suppose both their company was not unwanted.

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goddesstrolls​:

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hands u a not glas

“h3y. y’know, that littl3 kick to th3 shin yov gav3 m3 cavs3d m3 to los3 my l3g.”

“so if yov s33 m3 yov’d b3tt3r start fvcking rvnning.”

I didn’t kick y❄u th❄t h❄rd.

If y❄u l❄st y❄ur leg, it’s y❄ur ❄wn d❄mn f❄ult f❄r n❄t t❄king c❄re ❄f the w❄und pr❄perly.

I'm at work, but for when I get home: rb with a troll, and one of my characters will judge them! Feel free to respond/judge back uvu

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Ok I’m still thinking of Hades-style keepsakes for my trolls

Katrin: Dulled Knives. A mismatched pair of well-used blades. Adds extra distance for your ranged weapon.

Nancor: Lucky Crow Feathers. A charm made from pitch-black feathers. Provides a brief attack boost every time you successfully dodge an enemy’s attack.

Ashe: Synthetic Blood Vial. Blood made from ink and his moirail’s magic. All attacks have a slight chance of stealing health from enemy.

Velour: Kitsune Brooch. A sparkly 3D-Printed fox with a teal-blue ribbon. Gain 1 invincible hit at the start of every encounter.

Mikiel: Never-Melting Ice. A chunk of crystalline ice. All attacks do extra damage to enemies afflicted with the chill status.

Lusien: Beacon Lens. A pendant made out of the shards of a lighthouse’s beacon. Deals extra damage to armoured enemies.

Viltau: Vintage Pocketwatch. An old watch made with real gold. Slightly boosts rewards for darkness, obols, and gems whenever encounters are completed in a set time.

Glasya: Imitation Rock Candy. Small geodes in a cellophane bag, carved to look like candies. Add and extra 5-15 points to all healing items.

Vallis: Cephalopod lure. A cute lure that resembles a bobtail squid. All fish caught while this keepsake is equipped will net double rewards when given to the Head Chef.

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Long Black Night, Morning Frost

[Easy reading version on Toyhou.se]

Mikiel did not know how - or when - he ended up in the hospital. But, judging by all the cords and drips has been hooked up to, his arm in a cast, and a fresh set of fangs poking out of his gums where the old broken teeth had been removed, it would have to have been multiple nights spent unconscious at most. 

He also did not know how long he stayed in that hospital. Time felt like an illusion, in and out of consciousness and operating theatres and x-ray machines, staring at different ceilings depending on the room he’d been left in, seeing revolving doors of nurses checking beeping machines and administering painkillers and saying things that went in one ear and out the other. Occasionally being spoon fed yoghurt and jelly, and finding just the act of moving his jaw and swallowing to be a struggle.

Ginger visited once, he thinks, maybe twice, even. He recalled their low, dry tone of voice, but didn’t remember when they had said to him. He wasn’t even sure if he spoke back.

He was, by all metrics, absolutely exhausted. 

Another week, and the hospital staff deemed him well enough to be discharged. He still had a couple future visits booked, and physiotherapy sessions to attend as well.

His broken elbow was expected to make a full recovery, as were his ribs. That was the only good news he had received.

The fae’s jaws had torn a few muscles in his leg while he was caught in their jaws. The hospital had provided him with a medical cane to help assist with walking during the recovery phase, as pushing himself too far could result in much more permanent damage. He was forced to take time off work too, as a result.

His psiionics, on the other hand…

Mikiel was not accustomed to feeling the warm outdoor air as he was escorted out of the hospital and into the chauffeured car that would take him home. It was… Uncomfortable, sticky with humidity that would typically have been neutralised by his own power.

The doctors had to neutralise his cryokinesis, he was told, as the overdose on stimulants had pushed his psiionics far beyond their limits to the point where he could have either burned them out completely or caused them to break down into further instability. The former could have been dealt with, but the latter would’ve put him at a risk for culling. 

Supposedly, the Mantle of Pestilence had declared to the staff that he needed to survive no matter what. That was likely the only thing that saved him from an untimely fate. 

His power would return to him slowly as his body recovers, but he was warned that he may still experience psiionic instability if he were to use them too much. Had he been told that last sweep, he wouldn’t have cared. But now, right as he’d been accepting his cryokinesis, learning to tame the beast and make it his own, he was back where he started with nothing he could do about it.

It was frustrating. He wanted to scream, but he could not waste the energy on something so pointless. 

He fumbled for his keys as he reached the door to his apartment, resting against the wall to keep himself steady. He only had one functioning arm while the other was in a sling, meaning that the cane was practically useless if he ever needed to pick something up. He cursed as his hand struggled to grasp the keys in his pocket, feeling the dull ache shoot up his arm while his fingers curled around the metal.

His blackened fingers and ice-blue lightning scars on his arms served as a reminder of his ultimate failure. 

The doctor had told him plain and simple: The nerve endings in his fingers were dead, burnt out from the strain of his psiionics. For the rest of his life, he’ll struggle with most fine motor functions, and experience frequent numbness and pain. At first, he didn’t care, he was too tired to think too much of it, and he knew that he would have done anything for his moirail no matter what happened to his body.

He still would, he thinks. Thrixe meant everything to him. Yet…

As he hobbled his way into his apartment, the first thing he laid his eyes upon was his violin, sitting in its stand next to the TV unit where he hadn’t touched it for perigees, perhaps even over a sweep. 

He hated that thing. He’d tried to learn how to play and given up over and over, knowing he could never be perfect, and knowing he would never achieve any feats with his music when violinists of centuries past had already created every song worth playing. It had always felt pointless to even attempt, but foolishly, he would still pick up the instrument and try again.

Now, there truly was no point. His hands would never be able to hold it steady again.

Mikiel scoffed as he cast his gaze away from the wretched instrument, and slowly lowered himself down onto the couch. He propped the cane against the arm of the couch and the wall, and stared straight ahead. 

Aside from the rumbling of his neighbour’s excessively loud music, the apartment was still. The blueblood had nothing to do with himself but think. 

No returning to work until his bones and his leg had fully healed. No strenuous exercise, meaning no ice skating like he had returned to practising prior to his moirail’s disappearance. No solid foods until his teeth had finished growing back. No trips to restaurants or music performances on his own, as his current injuries could make him a target for other highbloods looking for an easy cull.

He did not know when Thrixe will return. Or Ginger too, for that matter. He recalls hearing that they would be busy as well. Cleaning up all the damage he had caused to the fae realms.

There was only…

No, he couldn’t. 

How the fuck was he supposed to tell Lyvere about what happened to him?

He knows what his friend is like. How… Frightened, he looked whenever he’d noticed Mikiel’s previous injuries from when he was enslaved by the Red Scarves. All the moments of hesitation the other blueblood experienced, rightfully afraid that he could get snapped at if he expressed too much concern. Worried that each time he saw Mikiel may very well be his last. Lyvere didn’t know what to think about his work at Gaia, either. It was just as unknown and dangerous as the gang.

Mikiel did not want to see that worried expression on his friend’s face again. He did not - could not - want to make the other blueblood suffer because of what he had done to himself. What he made the choice to do, as he had not considered Lyvere’s feelings until the moments before he thought he was dying. Because he was afraid that they would hold him back, and he would not have been able to accomplish what he did if there was any doubt clouding his mind. 

It was a weight tying them both down, one that Lyvere surely had already noticed but had been electing to ignore for some reason. He knew Mikiel was dangerous for the beginning. 

It would be for the best, then. For him to not contact his friend again. To let him think that his last text was the end. 

Yet, as he made that decision, he felt a hollow ache in his chest. Not caused by the cracks in his ribs that ached whenever he moved too much or breathed too heavily, but…

Mikiel shook his head, then reached for the remote to turn on the television. He didn’t want to think about it. 

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some updates for the ice boy :]

tfw the psiionic scarring is so bad you have to retire the fingerless gloves

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Where the Wolfsbane Blooms

[Easy reading version on Toyhou.se]

(This drabble is related to @cloudbattrolls' Harbinger plot, and takes place at the same time as Last Stand.)

Mikiel had been waiting for this moment.

Perigees had passed since Thrixe’s disappearance, but he had done nothing but wait. Biding his time, throwing himself into his work, keeping his skills sharp and his anger even sharper. Gone were the times that he would complain at the sight of some unexplainable abnormality, replaced now with a cold efficiency to destroy anything that crossed his path.

It was all he could do to stay sane, at least until Ginger gave him the call.

They told him to expect to be summoned a few nights after their first call, which gave him ample time to prepare. The head of Special Operations had taken his notice that he was summoned by the Mantle of Pestilence themself as a job of grave importance, making Mikiel Gaia’s representative in assisting with restoring the balance between the two realms. Many of Gaia’s agents, like all other entities on Alternia, had been barred entry from the realm after the fae closed the courts, meaning that they could not send in any back-up to assist him.

But, that did not mean they were unable to provide the blueblood with any assistance.

In his hand were three doses of psiionic stimulant, each contained within an auto-injector needle. Mind honey is a highly-controlled substance on Alternia, yet Gaia had something equally as potent on its side: Magic. Mikiel had been warned by the medical staff to not exceed more than one dose over twenty-four hours, as given his highly unstable psiionics they could not be certain that his body would be able to handle the strain they will put on his heart.

As he tucked two of the injectors into his pockets and stared down his present targets, the last thing on his mind were any safety concerns. Being safe will not bring his moirail back.

When he was teleported into the Summer Court, he was barely given any time to take in his surroundings before Ginger had informed him of his task: Keep the advancing fae at bay, and buy the two trolls they were assisting as much time as possible to catch up to their quarry. Supposedly they were seeking out one known as The Fireseer, the sole roadblock between this world and The Furthest Ring.

Their goals aligned with his, and that was all he cared about. The rest of these damned fae realms could burn to the ground, as far as he was concerned. 

Ginger had also provided him with some minor protective spells before they parted ways: One to shield his eyes from the Court’s endless daylight, and one to lessen the impact of any magic or wounds caused by the fae. Typically he did not enjoy the idea of being subjected to magic, but he had to respect their practicality. 

The battlefield in front of him was a coastal wasteland: A strategic location to provide himself with ample room to let his psiionics loose, and pools of boiling water behind him created a chokepoint to defend as the main group made their escape. The sun shining above him felt like it should have been burning his skin like that of Alternia’s brightest star, but his psiionics combined with Ginger’s spell protected him from any discomfort related to the unusual temperature. 

He could see swarms of disease-ridden amalgamations approaching from the horizon, and knew it was time. With a silent nod towards Ginger, he set out to fulfil his duty.

Ice began forming at his feet as he pulled off his gloves, holding the needle between his teeth while he clenched and unclenched his hands. The temperature of the Summer Court would ordinarily not be ideal for his psiionics, his frozen footsteps not spreading out as fast as he would like. He kept advancing until he was in the middle of the field, staring firmly ahead at the disgusting creatures in front of him. 

He could feel the many pairs of eyes on him, scrutinising him with suspicion. He is but a single troll, powerless against the fae’s sheer numbers in their forces and lacking in any natural defenses that their species was accustomed to. A mind fragile against supernatural interference, a body incapable of regenerating itself infinitely…

But they knew what just one troll could be capable of, after the intruder had destroyed so many kin, and they knew that there must be a reason if Pestilence had called upon him specifically.

That reason made itself clear when the blueblood bared his teeth and snarled, almost wolf-like in nature, then drove the needle into his own thigh.  

That snarl became a pained howl as Mikiel doubled over, clutching his head as the stimulant ignited his psiionics, sending shockwaves of power throughout his entire body. His vision tripled, his head felt like it was splitting apart while his heart threatened to tear out of his chest, and he felt like he was going to vomit. 

The landlocked fae did not stand a chance against the resulting blast of pure psiionic energy.

The ground within a twenty metre radius of Mikiel froze within an instant, consuming everything in its path. Pillars of ice spikes shot up metres in the air around him, and as he staggered backwards sent even more soaring up into the air. He could hear a cacophony of sounds as those capable of flight screeched at the sight of entire squadrons of fae swallowed up by the ice, their horrified expressions captured inside their frozen prisons. 

Breathing heavily, his hand moved to his chest to feel his heartbeat. Each breath felt like he was getting speared by icicles forming within his own lungs. His glasses cracked under the rapid drop in temperature, making the swarms of creatures ahead nothing but dark inhuman blurs. Ice stuck to his clothes and climbed up his legs, reminding him that he needed to get moving now lest he end up just like his foes.

He took a moment to attach his ice skate blades to his boots, and charged forward. 

Mikiel ducked and weaved amongst the ice spikes shooting up at all angles around him, baiting the fae to try and get within his reach. The one drawback of his cryokinesis was that he cannot freeze anything that is not directly touching either himself or the ground underneath him, but after dealing with abnormalities at Gaia, he had developed a new strategy. 

A mass of insectoid limbs with monarch wings dive bombed in from his left. Mikiel turned on his skates and swung out his arm, using his entire body to guide the fast-growing ice spikes into the same arc. The fae stopped in its tracks for just a second too long and was pierced by a spike directly through its central core.   

Another one down. God knows how many to go.  

Mikiel kept moving, keeping as many fae eyes on him as possible, leading them around the battlefield and spearing them with his spikes whenever the opportunity struck. To stop moving would be to die. Any moment spent standing still would allow the disgusting creatures to pile onto him, overwhelming him with their sheer numbers.

But, while quick and with the power of at least ten psiionics surging through his veins, he was not invincible. 

A nautilus-like disease fae, using its crystalline shell to camouflage against a pillar of ice, shot its tendrils out at the skating troll, and managed to get a grip on his arm. Mikiel stumbled, caught unaware, and was forced to grind his blades to a halt. With its prey ensnared, the fae sprouted more tendrils, this time tipped with sharp needle-like points, and aimed them at the blueblood’s neck. 

Mikiel disregarded those entirely, instead grabbing onto the tendrils that’d wrapped around his other arm. He yanked them towards himself with all his strength to dislodge the fae from its hiding place, and the needle-tipped tendrils missed their mark, one only managing to nick the side of his neck while the other flailed about uselessly. He felt the creature’s grip tighten around his arm, but quickly the tendrils stiffened and froze, ice consuming the rest of its body.

It may have wasted precious seconds, but Mikiel felt some satisfaction from stomping on the newly-formed ice sculpture until it was nothing but a pile of frozen chunks.

This back-and-forth continued, until it seemed that the fae’s numbers had drastically decreased. Mikiel did not feel as if he had thinned out their numbers that dramatically, and could only assume they had performed a strategic retreat. Good, as he could feel the effects of the stimulant start to wane. He was able to breathe for a moment, and slowed down, retrieving a second pair of glasses so he could survey his surroundings. However, the lens cracked quickly from the shift in temperature, and Mikiel swore under his breath.

His neck itched where the nautilus-fae’s tendrils had scratched him, the beginnings of a rash forming. 

This section of the Summer Court had also been transformed into a frozen wasteland, spires of ice haphazardly dotted around the area encasing many fae within. Those who had been speared by the spikes had already dissolved, leaving only traces of their melted remains glimmering in the realm’s abnormal sunlight. 

There were no other traces of fae in sight, meaning… 

Mikiel heard a distorted call, a chorus of synthesised war horns crying out at once, then felt the ground underneath him rumble. The spikes around him cracked with each tremor. When he turned around, his jaw almost dropped.

It was substantially larger than the others he had fought, and while slow and lumbering it emanates the pure power of a phantasmal beast. Four sturdy hooves cracked from centuries of warfare held up a body much more dinosaur-like in appearance, and atop of its long neck was a head resembling a chimera of horse and crocodile. Its head revealed flashes of exposed bone between shaggy strings of peeled skin, and similar needle-like bones lined down the creature’s back at odd angles, finishing at a leathery tail thin as a whip.

A lengthy maw filled with fangs smiled down upon Mikiel, and its tail cracked in intimidation. Blackened skin sloughed off its body in chunks like irradiated flesh, a twisted parody of death and rebirth as new sheets regrew in its place only to be scorched and discarded. The ice floor underneath its feet sizzled as it walked, but through shattered glasses the blueblood could not tell what was dripping off its rapidly-decaying body.

He knew nothing of the fae’s hierarchy or how to identify the diseases they represented, but he could tell by its size and its ornate headdress decorated with summer foliage that the seasonal Courts had summoned one of its strongest combatants. A Royal Knight. 

He reached into his pocket to pull out a second injector. He was told to not exceed the limit of one dosage per night, but this wasn’t the ordinary circumstances he would be facing on Alternia, this was a literal do-or-die scenario. And he needed all the power he could get.

Mikiel was prepared for the consequences as he jabbed the needle into his thigh, but that did not make its activation any less painful. Again he screamed and staggered, holding his head as the same affects struck him twofold. Ice stuck to his hair and lanced up the filed-down stumps where his horns once sat, and another wave of spikes shot out from the ground in a brilliant wave as his nerves fried. He felt the burning all the way down to the tips of his fingers and toes, and tasted blood in his mouth from the strain his body was being put under. 

He was hearing sounds and seeing colours that did not exist, but his target was large enough that he did not need to clearly envision his next move. Barely able to remain steady on his feet, he took off, the ice carving a path through all the spikes for him to gain enough speed.

Then, focusing his power, the path he had created lifted off the ground, becoming a perfect ramp for him to leap off - and onto the fae’s back. 

Fuck, this thing is hot. Even with his psiionics protecting him, he could still feel the beast’s skin sizzling against his boots… As betwixt the fleshy peels lay tumorous boils which continuously oozed searing-hot acid, covering the fae in a viscous layer of boiling corrosive tar. Bubbles burst and shot flecks of acid upwards, burning tiny holes into Mikiel’s clothing, while ice continuously creeped over his body, instantly melting then reforming to protect him from the heat.

He knew now that his original plan was a bust, there was simply no way his psiionics would be able to freeze this monster. Goddammit.

The fae howled a horrible draconic roar, lurching it’s body from side to side in an attempt to shake the blueblood off. Mikiel made a grab for the rows of exposed needle-like bones running down its spines. He attempted to spread his ice down them, but they too were too hot for his cryokinesis to affect them. The best he could manage was preventing his hands from blistering upon exposure. 

Reaching out from one spine to the next, he made his way up the creature’s back, gritting his teeth through the pain of his psiionics being pushed into overdrive. He had to make this work, he had to stop this thing no matter what. Perhaps if he could not freeze it from the outside, then - 

A sound of a whip crack caught his attention, and he spun around. The tail. A long, leathery-looking thing, far more flexible than the fae’s sauropod-like appearance made it seem. It curled up like a scorpion’s stinger, and lashed forward at Mikiel. He dodged, still clinging to one of the spines to maintain his balance, but the sludgy consistency of the acid at his feet made it difficult to move. 

But the fae was not aiming to spear the cryokinetic, and the tail’s position was in a perfect spot to coil itself around Mikiel’s throat.

Mikiel panicked, clawing madly at it as he felt its grip tighten, digging his nails into its leathery flesh. He managed to pull it off him, but it kept fighting back. With the intensity of a cornered animal, he grasped a length of the tail between his fists and bit down, hard.

There was a loud crack as rather than sinking his teeth into what appeared to be flesh, Mikiel found bone hard enough to shatter his fangs. He cried out in pain and lurched backwards, wiping his hand against his mouth and tasting bloodied gums. Damn beast, he should have known that he was not dealing with a creature made of anything remotely similar to Alternian animal biology.

Yet, despite the relative stupidity of his move, the fae’s agonised shriek proved it had some impact. It withdrew its tail from the blueblood, changing strategies.

He leaned forwards to cough up all the gunk inside his mouth: blood, ice crystals, and a few shards of shattered teeth. His jaw seized up with pain, sending another wave of dizziness to distract him from the beast’s next move.

The Patron’s Mark alerted him to a sudden surge of magical energy around him. Light crackled in the air, forming rings of magical circuits that entrapped Mikiel before he was able to react.

Shit.

He couldn’t move.

The damned beast had cast a binding spell. Goddamnit, he was warned that the fae were capable of casting magic, why didn’t he think-

Before he knew it, the fae struck again. As fast as lightning, its tail smacked against him and sent him flying. He was powerless against it, and unable to move his body to lessen the near-instantaneous impact with the ground.

He heard his elbow crack against the frozen floor, but he couldn’t feel it. He continued to slide across the ice, seeing stars and incomprehensible blurs, until his body finally ran out of any momentum.

The blueblood let out a groan. Ice crawled up his arm to hold it in place, not that he was able to move anything while the spell still had its hold on him. It was starting to wear off, however, as he was able to move his head and spit out all the remaining shards of broken teeth. He knew he’d have to get them all removed when he returned, so that new teeth could grow in their place. If he was able to return. He had no plan of even attempting to make it out of this battle alive, because if he’d faltered, that could have spelled the end of Thrixe’s return. Why now? Why worry about returning home?

When he heard the rumbling of the Knight lumbering towards him, he knew why. It was because he knew he was going to die. And as its jaws clamped around his body, piercing into his flesh, oozing blood and threatening to crunch his bones, he realised he did not actually want to die.

The beast shook its head from side to side, playing with its food, and then tossed Mikiel upwards. His body ragdolled as the force of the fae’s swing and gravity interacted with one another, and he gazed directly down its open maw.

Then, he recalled his previous idea. An idea that would only work if -

The jaws of the fae clamped back down on him, but this time he’d managed to move just enough to twist around and avoid getting swallowed whole. It was biding its time with play, single-minded as fae tend to be, awaiting the moment its binding spell wore off and its prey could truly feel his last torturous moments. His leg was trapped between its fangs, and he was hanging upside-down outside of its mouth. 

Blood was rapidly rushing to his head, if it wasn’t already pouring out the previous bite wound, but he’d been fighting the dizziness from the psiionic stimulants this entire fight. All he needed was one thing: For his foot to be touching the inside of the fae’s mouth.

He wriggled his leg, and then hit something solid.

There.

Mikiel activated his psiionics with a guttural roar, and the fae suddenly fell still. Ice consumed the inside of its mouth and spread throughout its internal structure, and then - 

It howled one last final, unholy scream before hundreds of icicles pierced through its flesh from the inside-out. Mikiel was unceremoniously dropped from its maw, and could only watch as the beast exploded in a flurry of acid and viscera.

It was finally over. He’d taken down one of the Summer Court’s Royal Knights, and any last fae remaining scattered.

The blueblood felt something drip onto his face, then another landed in his eye as the shattered lenses of his glasses were unable to catch it.

Ah. The ice spikes still looming above his head are starting to melt. His psiionics have stopped working. Is that… Is he dying?

He found he could move his body again, but was too tired to stand back up. Weakly, he attempted to move his arms. The left - useless. His elbow had shattered when he first hit the ground, as all he could feel was a dull pain shooting up his arm. The right, though - he moved his hand in front of his face. It was shaking, likely from blood loss, but through his blurry vision he could tell his fingers had blackened, frostbitten in appearance.

But it wasn’t frostbite, it was burnout. If he could see properly he would notice the scarring continuing down his arm, light blue lighting bolts patterning his skin. The same scarring also present on his face, barely visible amongst the frost covering his skin.

He dropped his arm back down, landing on his chest. Ice was spreading over his body in a feeble attempt to slow the bleeding from the fae’s jaws. His leg was similarly covered in a coating of ice. He didn’t know why his own body bothered to protect himself like this, when it was only sapping away the last of his strength.

He supposed he had Ginger to thank for the fact he was still breathing now, albeit weak and laboured. If it wasn’t for their protection, he likely would have already bled out and died. Or maybe the impact of the fae’s tail that sent him flying would have killed him. Or maybe it would have been the boiling acid that covered the monster when he landed on it.

Or maybe it would have simply been from the sun, still bearing down on him while he stared into the clear blue sky. So many things that would have ordinarily caused him to give up and accept death, but in what felt like his last moments, he knew he still wanted to live.

He thought of Thrixe. Jumbled, disconnected thoughts as his mind drifted between the realms of consciousness and unconsciousness... He hoped this was enough, to bring him home. He knew Thrixe wouldn’t be proud of him for pushing himself this far, but he hoped that he would understand why he did. He hoped to see him smile again, one last time…

…

…

By the time Ginger was able to return to find Mikiel, he was already near comatose.

[raitrolling]

masterpost of all my favourite things from my doodle folder because i was just going through it

[raitrolling]

what characters can speak more than one language (fluent or not)? :3c

quite a few! just going through my mains (+ sharle who is not a main but i talk about him A Lot so i'll include him here):

Nancor: Spanish (technically Peruvian Spanish)

Ashell: Hungarian, but only at a basic level

Mikiel: Italian, and also knows bits and pieces of French and German

Lusien: Icelandic, but limited to very few words

Sharle: Monegasque, Italian, French

Glasya: Czech, Polish

Vallis: Mandarin Chinese

and since i love making lists I also have a full masterpost of everyone's accents and languages they can speak here :]