#minecraft diaries fanfic

[stellisketches]

I'VE FINALLY FUCKING FINISHED THE CHAPTER JESUS CHRIST ITS BEEN A YEAR BUT I FINALLY UPDATED

[loathed-to-be-her-hound]

Garroth has a hard time sleeping.

He has a very difficult time sleeping on a regular basis. He dreams of O’kasis and forced marriages. He dreams of his father destroying Phoenix Drop and taking him home. He wakes up in a cold sweat and decides to wake up early. Often this is around 2-3 in the morning.

As he patrols the docks and repairs the fences clumsily in his full armour, he mentally calls himself a coward.

Eventually Aphmau would be up and around, inevitably looking for him. She would so soon comment on his sluggish walk, the exhaustion to his voice, the ever so slight change in his demeanour. He would never really comprehend how she picked that up through his helm. He was hidden head to toe yet she saw right through him. He would brush it off and they would go on with their day. But she knew. And he knew she knew.

Later, he’s guarding outside her house. He often does. Though as he watches over the village, his eyes hurt. Aphmau would come outside and tell him he should come in and have tea for a bit. He can’t deny his lord.

He removes his helm. She knows his face. Freckles scatter his cheeks. His eyes are a light blue, a dark shade underneath them. They were always there though. He developed them with age. His hair is a bit frizzy after being trapped in his helmet all day. His face is scarred, all around his lips and nose. It’s nice to see. Not for anyone but her. She gives his tea a large helping of sugar and milk every time. He drinks it every time.

She says she heard him up early. She says he seems tired. She asks if he slept. It’s not really a question. She knows the answer. She wants to know why but doesn’t want to pry. He says he couldn’t sleep. She says she can help. It’s difficult not scoff at the tenacity in which she says it. She states it as though it’s a fact.

He refuses at first. Though she asks again like she just wants to. He says he has work to do. She says then they can rest together outside her house. Just for a few minutes. Then he can go back to work.

Empty teacups are left on the table in her home. A pleasant aroma of tea and the slight scent of his armour lay thick in the air. His helm sits on her table, forgotten in The Lords insistence.

Outside, in the grass lay the lord in her dress, and her guard beside her, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Now, I’m going to try something, ‘Kay?"

He scoffs though nods.

"What is it m’lady?"

She sits up and reaches her hand towards him, hovering it slightly above his heaving chest. He felt a mixture of embarrassment and curiosity as her once ink like markings began to glow.

Soon, the glow stopped and she smiled before laying down beside him again.

"Lady Aphmau I think it-"

"Shh Shh. Trust me. Just give it a second."

She began to hum a tune he didn’t quite recognize as he stared at the clouds. They warped and drifted across the sky into various shapes and forms. He doesn’t know when- but at some point he fell asleep.

When he woke, the sun was just past set and he could see the stars. He basked in the vaguely conscious feeling. His mind felt clouded for a time, the dull throbbing in his head irregularly subsided. All felt warm… like Lady Aphmau’s home. Very warm.

Wait… Lady Aphmau-

He stood up so fast his head span as he desperately glanced around the area. How had he fallen asleep?!? He was head guard- god damn it how could he do this?!?! What if Aphmau was in danger?! What if-

"Uhm.. Garroth?"

The Druid in question was in her same place as she was when he rested. Her hair was a bit messy though she just looked confused.

"You okay?"

He felt his racing heart settle, though the guilt stayed. (To be continued perhaps? 🤔)

[izzybella1807]

Diaries: Whispers of Destiny | Part 1 -Chapter 1

Part 1 ★★★ Ⅰ ★★★

"Ha ha! I beat you," Dante cried as Grace lifted herself off of the damp grass. The two were in the meadows of Boboros, having make believe fights with wooden swords. They would go out there almost every day, mainly to get away from the village and have some time to themselves

Boboros was a Tu'lanian village where Grace and Dante lived with their family. Dante was the youngest out of the family, just two years younger than Grace. First came Gene who was eighteen, then came Grace who was fourteen and then came Dante, who was twelve.

Grace never liked Gene though, Dante would look up to him but Grace hated him. Grace new that Dante obviously never saw the real Gene, but she did. Grace loved Dante though. He's the little brother that she have dreamed of.

The two would often play together, tell each other stories and have make believe fights with wooden swords. Grace would do anything for her younger brother, she would sacrifice her life to protect him if she had to.

Grace smiled as she stood up off the damp grass. "You won't beat me this time!" Grace said, picking up her wooden sword off of the damp grass and held it, ready to fight again. The two of them dreamed of being guards when they got older. They wanted to be able to protect the innocent and fight off the bad.

Grace always thought Dante was an odd kid, but she loved him, either way. She don't know what she'd do without him. Gene was the head guard of the village but Grace knew that he didn't deserve that position. Gene had done a lot of bad things to get the position of the head guard and both Dante and Grace knew that.

Dante and Grace clashed swords and then stepped back from each other. "I'm gonna win!" Dante cried as he ran towards his older sister.

Grace smirked, "That's what you think!" Dante came at Grace, swinging his wooden sword at her but she deflected his shot. The fight went on for a while until Grace knocked Dante's sword out of his hand and he fell to the ground.

Grace smirked as she pointed my sword at him. "You were saying?" she giggled. Dante rolled his eyes at his sister, "You only won because you're two years older and  taller that me." Grace rolled her eyes, "I'm only three inches taller, it's not that much." "You're still taller!" Dante cried making Grace giggle.

"Dante, Grace! Dinner's ready!" their mother called from their house. Grace smiled as she gave Dante a hand up from the ground. "Race ya!" Dante cried as he sped off. "Hey! I wasn't even ready!" Grace giggled before she followed after her younger brother.

★★★

Dante and Grace were sitting down eating their dinner when the front door opened someone let out an angry groan as they came inside. "Gene is that you?" Maria called from the kitchen of the old, tattered house. "Yeah," came a reply as Gene walked into the kitchen.

Grace noticed a wound at the top of his right cheek, which was bleeding. Blood had dripped onto his armour and covered his hands. "Oh my Irene! Gene! What happened?!" Maria cried as she tried to wipe Gene's cheek with a cloth.

Gene put his hands on his mother's shoulders. "Mom, I'm fine, trust me," he assured her. She stopped for a second before shaking her head, "Gene Brosna, you are not okay! You're cheek is bleeding! If it wasn't for your father, you would not be head guard!" Maria cried as she pushed Gene onto an empty chair at the table.

"Mom-" Gene began. "No! You will let me clean this and patch it up!" Maria cried, cutting across him. There was silence before Gene sighed, "Fine." Maria turned around to the cabinet, her light blue hair flying everywhere as she opened cupboard after cupboard looking for band-aids.

Grace glared at Gene as she spooned a fork-full of mashed potatoes into her mouth. "What are you looking at?" He asked, glaring across the table at his younger sister. Grace smirked, "Oh, just that nasty slit on your cheek. It's such a pity that it's not on your chest, right over your heart."

"Grace Brosna!" Maria yelled at her daughter, turning around from the cabinet, with multiple band-aids in her hands. "You will apologise to your brother now!" Grace glanced over at Gene who was smirking at her, waiting for an apology. "I'm still waiting," he said slyly. Grace looked back at her mother who raised a brow at her, telling her to apologise.

Grace smirked to herself before standing up and pushing her half-full plate of mashed potatoes, into the middle of the wooden table. "No," Grace said as she walked towards the stairs, hitting Gene on the back of his head on the way.

"Grace Anne Brosna! Get back here this instant!" Maria yelled as her daughter walked towards the stairs. Grace turned around to see Gene rubbing the back of his head and Dante with his mouth full of mashed potatoes, quietly watching the whole thing.

Grace smirked at her older brother before happily skipping up the stairs and into her old tattered room. It was a small room with purple walls and a single bed covered in a purple blanket. There was a window with a table underneath it and a dyed-purple, bearskin rug lay in the middle of the floor. As you can tell, Grace's favourite colour is purple.

Grace picked up her small, purple, leather bag, putting her wooden sword and a few other things in it. She opened the window, pulled a rope out from under her bed and lowered it down the opened window. Grace was about to climb out the window when there was a knock on her old, wooden bedroom door. She froze on the spot. If her mother found out she was sneaking out she would be in so much trouble.

The door slowly creaked open and a head covered in dark blue hair, peaked in. It was Dante. "Can I come in?" He asked. Grace let out a sigh of relief and nodded as he walked through the doorway, quietly closing the door behind him.

"What happened back there?" Dante asked his older sister, before noticing that his sister was holding her leather bag with her wooden sword poking out of the top of it. He also noticed the open window, and the rope hanging out.

Grace ignored her brother's original question and told him where she was going. "I'm going down to our hideout in the forest, are you coming?" she asked him. Dante eagerly nodded, before rushing into his room, grabbing his blue leather bag and filling it with a few things, including his leather sword.

The two quietly climbed down the rope and ran down the old street towards the forest, where they found their small hideout in in the tree's. No one knew about their hideout apart from the two siblings, it was their little secret. Dante and Grace often came down to the hideout, to get away from everyone else. Although they were siblings, Dante and Grace were best friends. They would tell each other everything, and do everything together. The two couldn't imagine life without each other.

Dante and Grace stayed down in their hideout until it started to get dark. They headed back to their house and snuck inside, climbing up the rope that had been left hanging out of the slightly open window. Grace lay in her bed and stared at the ceiling before her tired eyes began to close and she soon fell asleep.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Please give feedback!! I take constructive criticism but please no hate!!

Thank you for reading and see you all in the next chapter! Byeee

- Izzy -

[vyladromeave]

COLD-BLOODED

This fic was made for the 2022/23 Minecraft Diaries Big Bang !! You can read on ao3, or here through the keep reading below.

Fic takes place during the Pikoro arc of S2, except Vylad goes with the group instead of Aaron. Vylad uses he/they here and Laurance has orange hair bcs. I’m an orange hair laurance truther and I said so. Ok yippee have fun !

cold-blood·ed /ˌkōldˈblədid/ adjective

having a body temperature varying with that of the environment; poikilothermic.

without emotion or pity; deliberately cruel or callous. "a cold-blooded murder"

 .

   To most, it’s no surprise to hear that the biology of a Shadowknight is different from that of a human. They’re entirely different creatures, after all, so it’s only natural that they function differently from one another. Exactly how they differ, though, is another question entirely.

   For starters, there was a lot about the biology of Shadowknights that he, to this day, didn’t even know– let alone understand . Everything he knew on the topic was knowledge passed down to him from other knights (mainly Zenix), or things he discovered himself. It’s not like there was a lot of research being done on how they functioned, seeing as a large part of the world didn’t even believe in their existence.

   But beyond that, there were the obvious bits. The eyes that went red when a Shadowknight gave in to the darker parts of themself. The increased strength, and durability. How eating and sleeping became a luxury, instead of a requirement. The immunity to fire was maybe a more obscure one, but in the few cases where it came up in conversation, those he mentioned it to always came to the conclusion that it made sense. How else would they thrive in a dimension consisting of nothing but lava and fire?

   Then there were the pieces that no outsider would ever come to know on their own. Even between Shadowknights, sharing stories of the scars that killed them was taboo. And, contrary to what one might think, Shadowknights typically run cold, not hot. Of course, when they transformed or became enraged, their body temperatures would rise, and since the Nether was so hot naturally, Shadowknights residing there rarely had problems with it. But in all other cases, regulating their own body heat was something completely out of the question. They were cold-blooded creatures, in every sense of the word. It was related to something about preservation of energy- something that allowed them to save their strength to unleash in large bursts when they needed it most- but he didn’t really understand the science behind it, nor did he ever really care to.

 .

   He still remembered the first time he’d grasped the concept of it, though. He was much younger then– hadn’t even spent a year as a Shadowknight. It was his first assignment outside of the Nether, his first ‘real’ mission, first responsibility the Shadow Lord had entrusted upon him. (And the few others assigned with him, of course, though he remembered not paying them much mind at all.) They were sent somewhere cold, and there was some small outpost they were supposed to destroy. He didn’t quite know what to expect, but it sounded like a simple job. Maybe even pleasant. It was something he could easily prove himself with, he was sure.

   He’d been training for this, after all.

   Then he remembered the numbness he’d felt– it made him feel stiff and useless and he hated it. He had never been reminded more of how it felt to be a corpse than in those moments. Not even his lungs dared to move, and his throat felt wired shut. He remembered that feeling of emptiness, so deep he thought it would never work its way out of him. He didn't remember much of his first day of employment, or the day after, though he did remember leaning against his sword, edge cutting slightly into the side of his leg, the pain keeping him rooted and standing upright. He bit his tongue until it bled to keep focused during a briefing, stared at some point in space for so long his vision began spiraling– he had to keep himself from collapsing into it. He tried to keep a constant inventory of the environment around himself after that, to stop it from happening again. It didn’t really help.

   The only solution he’d found was to remain constantly transformed, enraged enough that he was always running hot, instead of freezing like his surroundings. (That wasn’t enjoyable either, but it had gotten him used to the feeling of it.) That same uncomfortable feeling had eventually urged on his fellow knights, encouraging them to finish their mission quickly, and the task was done after just a week.

   “It’s not like it’ll happen again,” Zenix had told him when he returned. It was the first time something really managed to separate the two of them since they met. “I mean, you know how to deal with it now, right? That’s kind of the point.” 

   In a way, he was right; it had never been a problem for him since then. He learned over time that Shadowknights deployed to colder areas were typically newer ones, those who the Shadow Lord had wanted to test, or those who were being punished. Learning to deal with the experience was almost like a rite of passage, and a painful reminder for those who were forced to experience it once again. 

   And after some time, (over two-hundred years of it in fact,) he'd almost forgotten the experience entirely. He’d grown beyond it now; he would never allow himself to stoop so low again. 

 .

   He was wrong.

 .

 .

   He’d never actually been to Pikoro before, but he was at least a little familiar with the land around it. Or at least, familiar with what it used to be like, over fifteen years ago. Things had changed since then, apparently; he had no memory of it ever being so hostile and cold. The land itself seemed to enjoy spiting the laws of climate and nature as he understood them. They spent hours lost in the freezing landscape, estranged from paths that might've been present some years ago, wading through snow that was knee deep and higher in its worst patches. The cold clung to him like water to cloth. And yet, he marched straight forward. 

   The good thing about bringing up the rear of the group was that people weren't often looking back to check on him. 

   He stared ahead, the snow beginning to spiral in front of him, and he found himself lost in the pattern…

   "-Vylad? Hey buddy, where are you going?" 

 .

   He blinked. Somehow he'd made his way to the lead of the group. He looked back to see Travis and Aphmau huddled over a map, probably checking to see if there was a single landmark consistent with the blizzard they'd been traveling through. Laurance, however, was directly behind him, and had been trying to get his attention. He noticed Aphmau taking concerned glances over at the two of them, instead of the map. 

   "Hm?" Vylad tried to tilt his head slightly, and was disappointed to find that even that small movement caused him to ache. 

   "Do you know where you're headed, or did you just pick a direction and start walking? We were following you for the past ten minutes. You didn't respond before when we asked, so we just assumed..." Laurance seemed somewhat confused and annoyed, but mostly glad  to just be getting through to him. 

   Oh. Oops. It faintly occurred to him that he should’ve perhaps been more concerned about getting the group even more lost, but the thought faded away before he was able to grasp it. 

   "I... Sorry. I didn't notice. Do you think taking a look at the map for the sixth time would help?" 

   He didn't mean to sound so sarcastic– at this point it was a genuine question. If looking at the map one hundred times could get them out of here, he would've gladly done it. (And perhaps even a hundred more times after that for good measure.) He typically thought his words over before speaking them aloud, but how they’d be interpreted registered a second too late. 

   Laurance was, understandably, annoyed with their tone. He was stuck in this storm as well, after all. "What do you think ?" 

   "I didn't mean it like that." He tried to interrupt beforehand, but even that was slowed. 

   Vylad took a step towards the two huddled around the map. Or– he tried to, before realizing that not even his legs would obey him anymore. He had stopped moving for too long, and now he couldn't even feel them. He tried to not let it bother him. 

 .

   But Laurance still had full function of his own legs, at least. He took a step closer and placed a hand lightly on Vylad's shoulder, and they were unable to move or protest. He leaned a little towards him, presumedly to speak more privately, though Vylad was certain it was unnecessary given the volume of the wind around them. (He also confirmed that he was becoming delirious, because for just a split second he was sure Laurance was about to-) 

   "-ou alright? Hey, you can hear me, right?" 

   "...What?" His words felt sluggish, like his tongue had stiffened along with his legs. He took a moment to register what Laurance was asking, and put some extra effort into his next words to make them (hopefully) sound more convincing.

   "I'm fine." 

   It took a moment too long for Laurance's taste. "You don't seem fine. You're looking straight through me. Usually, I prefer it when people look at me." He managed a wink, somehow. The gall. How could he manage to joke at a time like this? 

   He felt the faint brush of another hand on his other arm. "You're freezing. How are you colder than I am?" 

   They weren't sure if it was a genuine question they should answer. Laurance didn't feel warm to them, anyways. Then again, they could barely feel his hand at all. 

   "...Do you need a break?" Laurance squeezed his shoulder slightly, presumably trying to keep his attention. 

   "What? No. If we stop moving, we'll never make it out of this." He wasn't sure how much of it came out as actual words, but Laurance seemed to have understood him. There was another faint voice in the back of Vylad's head that wasn’t convinced he’d make it out of this regardless, but thankfully this thought was lost as well. 

   "We should be going now, in fact." He continued. He tried once again to take a step, and once again was denied. Typical. 

   Laurance seemed slightly confused by his actions. Or rather, lack of action. " Okayyy , let me rephrase that. We're taking a break. Unless those two suddenly recognize any landmarks nearby on the map-" Laurance motioned backwards towards Travis and Aphmau, who both hurriedly ducked their heads back down to the map and pretended to not be watching. "-then we're going to backtrack a little. Travis spotted a cave a while back– the rest of us want to try waiting out the storm. Or at least take a break from walking in it." 

   Well… fine. Sure. That sounded reasonable. He wasn't fond of the idea, but also wasn't about to protest. He tried to nod, but he had grown so numb that he couldn't even tell if his head was moving or not anymore. He searched his brain for a proper response, then for any words at all, but all of those thoughts had faded as well. He had enough presence of mind to manage a short, noncommittal hmph noise. 

   But Vylad continued not to move, and Laurance's concern for him only seemed to grow. And so he tugged Vylad, gently, to get him started in the right direction. He felt himself move- or more accurately, felt the world move up to meet him- 

 .

   And then all they could see was white. Snow , their mind helpfully supplied for them, I'm lying in snow. That was a word they could certainly do without. He couldn't hear the wind anymore, though there was a dull, echoing sound coming from... Somewhere. No, not echoing... repeating? A name. His name? He couldn't tell who was saying it. He didn't really care to find out. It didn't matter much, anyways. He couldn't find the energy to care about something so trivial. 

   Fine, he tried to respond, I'm fine . But nothing came out. The snow glistened unhelpfully in front of him, and the bright edges of it began to fuzz as his eyes began to unfocus. He could only hope whoever kept calling out to him understood. That they'd give him a moment to pick himself up, before they continued on their journey. Or perhaps that they'd leave him there, in the snow. It didn't matter much to him at all, either way. It's funny, they thought, how little everything matters when you're dying. He was suddenly hit with a sickening wave of deja vu. Perhaps if he could still feel his face, he would've laughed.

 .

 .

   The heat registered to him before he was even fully conscious. He was sweaty, clammy, could feel fabric sticking to his skin. He felt like he'd been dropped in a volcano with a weight tied to his back, like he was being buried alive while molten hands dragged him down deeper. It was suffocating. Someone was suffocating him. 

   Get off , he protested, and was met with the feeling of something on his forehead. He wasn’t sure what. "Get off of me," he hissed, managing to speak aloud this time, though the words were all slurred and raspy and mumbled together. 

   He wasn't sure when he'd opened his eyes, but he was suddenly aware of the space around and in front of himself. He was lying on his back in an unfamiliar bed, in a room he didn't recognize. The ceiling above him was wooden, though the lines between the paneling appeared blurry, and he found it hard to focus on them when he tried. It occurred to him that his eyes were only barely open, but he couldn't find the strength to open them any further. His sight trailed slowly to the side, trying to take in more of the room as if it would give him a hint to wherever the hell he was. He heard the short gasp from a person next to him, and felt them pull away from the space beside him.. From the short, groggy glance he got, she was a young girl wearing dark, baggy clothes, and had a hair color somewhere between brown and red, all pulled over her shoulder in some sort of braid. His eyes never quite found their focus on her face, and she didn't wait for him. The stranger turned away and hurriedly headed out a door that had previously been obscured behind her, letting it slam rather loudly as she exited. The sound of it echoed piercingly in his ears, and something in the back of his head ached. 

 .

   Where was he? What was he doing here? How did he get here?

 .

   He stared absently at the now closed door. The echoing noise from the door was subsiding, but he was quickly becoming aware of the sound of his own harsh breathing, and so the dull, throbbing headache continued. He tried desperately to ignore it, to instead remember what he’d been doing and how he could've ended up here. He had come here to... Oh, Aphmau. 

 .

   Where was everyone else?

 .

   He flinched as something landed on top of his eye- a simple towel the stranger had placed on his forehead before leaving, that he wasn’t conscious enough to comprehend earlier. It had slid off his forehead and now laid awkwardly across his face, obscuring what little sight he had. On top of that, it was hot– it burned just like the blankets he was trapped underneath. He couldn't brush the towel aside, his arms were completely unresponsive, though the failed attempt to move did at least remind him of what he had been doing beforehand.

   Had he passed out? He must have. Embarrassing. His first thought after that was, "Good thing Garroth isn't here to tease you about it, you'd never hear the end of it, " immediately followed by "Garroth is gone, why do you care?" He found himself regretting being able to think again, wishing for unconsciousness again– at least that way, he wouldn't have to think about anything.

   The idea was just a stray thought, but it began to snowball rapidly. He was suddenly aware of just how tired he felt. He was aware of how every piece of himself felt like it was being pulled down into the earth, aware of just how much effort he was expending to barely remain conscious. It would be so easy to go back to sleep. So easy to never wake up. The thought didn't feel entirely his own, but he couldn't push it out of his mind regardless. 

   Instead, he tried to focus on something else. He attempted to take another look around the room, but the cloth over his eye made it even harder to focus than before. A ghostly afterimage of it was left across his vision, even though it was only obscuring one eye. There was some sort of pattern in the fibers that caught his attention, though he couldn't quite make out. It was a circle- no, a spiral. The cloth itself was square, and yet, somehow, (did it matter how?) it had been woven like a spiral, and the fibers pulled inward, inward, inward, and it pulled him in with it, infinitely growing smaller, beckoning him forward, falling into nothingness while not moving at all, and-

   "Hey buddy."

   And then the cloth was gone.

   "You're awake, right...? Uh, how are you feeling?"

 .

   Everything was too bright now, with the cloth gone. He closed his eyes lightly, (just to regain his bearings was what he told himself,) but that voice sounded so familiar...

   Their eyes shot open and they inhaled sharply at the familiar weight of his hand on their shoulder. They recognized that familiar, fire-orange hair and stupidly obnoxious face. They blinked hard, just to make sure they were really seeing things right, then once more just to confirm it. Laurance. Why did it have to be him?

   There was a tinge of frustration in Laurance's voice, but nothing that really came through in his words, and his expression was filled with nothing but a tentative concern. He was trying to keep the worry out of his face, and was doing a bad job of it. Vylad didn't see the point in it. There was no one else in the room but the two of them, so why bother? (Was he trying to seem unbothered for their sake? Idiot. He didn't need to . Then again, they hated the fact that Laurance was concerned for them at all.)

 .

   It took them a moment to realize Laurance had been talking to them, and a moment longer to remember how to speak again.

   "... Bad." He didn’t really feel like lying right now. There was no point in it; not from Laurance, and not from himself either. He figured it was pretty apparent by the involuntary shake to his voice, anyways.

   "... Where... are we? Who was that? What happ-" He was interrupted by his own shortness of breath, forced to pause his words to take a terribly strained inhale. He didn't have to look at Laurance to know that his concern for him was only growing. He gritted his teeth and grimaced at the thought. He always tried his best to not have strong opinions on things, because strong opinions always lead to strong emotions, but Irene he hated this.

   "Take it easy, alright?" Laurance spoke softly to him, and strangely enough, Vylad found it soothing, much more so than he would normally admit to himself. In a rare moment of weakness, he allowed himself to take comfort in it. His breathing evened out. Just a little bit.

   "We're in Pikoro right now," he continued. "All of us. Aphmau and Travis are here too, they're outside talking with Lucinda." He found a chair tucked away in the corner of the room, and brought it over to the bed before sitting down on it. This was a full conversation now, he supposed.

   "Lucinda ...?"

   "She's, uh, the reason why we came here? She’s a witch, used to be an inhabitant of Phoenix Drop, and Aphmau wanted to find her. You remember that much, right?"

   They blinked once, twice. Yes, of course, her name sounded familiar. How could they forget?

   "Turns out, she's been keeping an eye out over the storm for people caught in it. Some combination of you passing out and Aphmau going out alone afterwards to find help led her right to us, and then she brought us here. So in a way, we should be thanking you." He was trying to make light of the situation, so Vylad decided not to push it. Although he didn't feel very helpful right now.

   "... Right. And the girl is...?"

   "You mean the one who was in here earlier? She's Lucinda's apprentice, her name's Hailey. She's the one who came and got me when you woke up– Hey, speaking of which, did you look at her like that when she was in here earlier?"

   What? Like what? Had they been staring or something?

   Apparently their worry was clear on their face, and so Laurance attempted to clarify. "I just mean, she seemed a little freaked out when she got me, so..."

   "... Huh?" This clarified nothing. In fact, it was making his understanding of the situation worse, though he tried not to let it show on his face this time.

   "Your eyes. They're red."

 .

   … That was… 

   … supposed to mean something important, he thinks…

   Uh…

   "... Like, pink eye ...??" He was... certainly less worried, but definitely more confused.

   That got a snort out of Laurance, which gave way to a chuckle, breaking Laurance's serious tone for only a moment. Vylad wasn't sure what was so funny. 

   "No, your pupils. They're red. Instead of green."

 .

   Oh.

   "Like, in a Shadowknight way."

   oh.

 .

   "Shit-" He hissed out. It didn't even occur to him- he couldn't even feel it. Normally it was hard for him to not notice this sort of thing. But if this was the only way his body knew how to deal with the cold, then maybe… "Really? Shit. Hold on."

   He closed his eyes tightly, tried to focus on the feeling, but when he reached out, all he could find was that pounding headache again. The air starts to catch in his throat again and-

   Something in Laurance's grip on his shoulder shifted, and his eyes shot open.

   "... Is that- is that better?" he wheezed, ignoring how scarily close he had been to unconsciousness. "I can't... tell."

   Laurance waited until Vylad caught his breath to respond. "... Nnnot really." Shit . "But hey, you're sick. It's fine if you can't control that right now." 

   Was that supposed to be comforting?

   "That is... not fine..." He was back to breathing normally– at least, as normally as he could right now– so why did his voice still sound so shaky?

   "I know it sucks, but I don't think there's much you can do about it right now. Just– try not to worry about it, and-"

   "And what, " Vylad snapped, "It'll just- magickally stop being an issue? You should know better than anyone–" He managed to cut himself off. The words had come out so fast, so loud . It wasn't yelling, but given how he normally spoke it might as well have been. What was he even saying? The words hadn't quite felt like his, and yet it was still his mouth that had spoken them. He could feel it now, his eyes faintly burning, and he realized he was only making it worse. Laurance's hand left his shoulder. He wished he was actually being dragged down into the earth, because at least that way he wouldn't be here.

   "I... sorry. I'm- sorry, I didn't..." His voice had become a whisper. "... You shouldn't have to see that." They looked as far away from Laurance as they could, making sure they couldn't even see him in the corner of their eye. There was still a tremble to their voice, but it was different now. Laurance had never heard them sound so... scared.

 .

   A moment passed in silence.

   (Or maybe it was an hour. Vylad couldn't tell).

 .

   "... I don’t think I can go out like this. Sorry. You might have to handle Pikoro on your own."

   "Wh- Yeah, you think?? " The stupidity of his statement broke the tension immediately. (For Laurance, at least.) "Can you even walk right now?"

   Vylad stayed silent. The correct answer was 'no,' but he wasn't about to admit that. Laurance understood anyway. He chuckled softly, and to Vylad's dismay, ruffled his hair. Now it was all pointed in the wrong direction, and some of it had awkwardly fallen into his eyes, but he didn't have enough feeling in his arms to do anything about it. At least, not on his own… 

   Instead, he did the only thing he could: channel all his displeasure into a single, piercing, disgruntled stare.

   Laurance got the message, but it only sent him into a fit of laughter. “ What -” he managed to squeak out through his amusement, “-is something wrong?”

   “There is hair. In my eyes.”

   “There definitely is.”

   “Fix it.”

   Laurance gasped, feigning offense, putting a hand to his chest. “Not even a please? Jeez, who raised you?”

   But despite his playful protests, he did indeed start fixing it. He pushed the strands back out of their eyes and carefully,  combed through their hair, and oh this was worse. The gentle little intimacies he was powerless to stop. They needed to think about something else right now, because they were just delirious enough where they could maybe start enjoying this.

 .

   “... I don’t get it.” He finally managed to mumble.

   “Hm?”

   “Why I’m-… you should be sick, too.”

   Laurance only tilted his head, still messing with their hair. Vylad was forced to continue.

   “It’s- we’re Shadowknights. We can’t regulate our own temperature like how normal people can. You weren’t even cold.”

   Laurance scoffed. “Maybe not cold compared to you, sure, but you literally have hypothermia. What’s your point?”

   “My point is that I’m bed-bound, and you aren’t.”

   Laurance chuckled softly, but that did get him to stall for a moment. He glanced away from Vylad for a bit, clearly thinking something over. 

   “...I think you put too much thought into the whole ‘Shadowknight’ thing.”

   The ease with which he said it put some kind of expression on Vylad’s face. Probably not a pleased one. “Excuse me?”

   “I’m just saying. If Shadowknights are supposed to do bad in cold or whatever, then just… stop thinking like a Shadowknight, and start thinking like a human. That’s what I do.” He punctuated it with a shrug, like he had suggested the easiest thing in the world. Vylad wasn’t even entirely sure what he meant.

   Their brows furrowed. “Tell that to me when my eyes aren’t burning.”

   “Hey- I’m serious, you know! It’s not a joke– sometimes I just…” He slowed down his speech a little when he realized he’d reached something a little more personal, but doesn’t stop speaking. “... start thinking about all the people I care about. Like what I think they’re up to right now, or what we’ll do together when we get back- and then I feel more… me.”

   Vylad huffed. It was a sweet sentiment, at least. “That’s nice. But I know that trick already. And no amount of thinking about family should be able to change your internal biology.”

   “Well it sounds stupid when you put it like that, but. I mean, have you tried?”

   “I– yes. I have.” Of course he did. Constantly. Every day. He wouldn’t be where he was now without it. Thinking about them was the only thing that made him feel like something more than a corpse, sometimes.

   That clearly wasn’t a good enough answer for Laurance. “Hm. Maybe…” He had finally gotten too distracted to keep futzing with their hair, but they weren’t sure they liked where this conversation was headed much better. “I mean- when’s the last time you actually saw your family?”

   “I- wait, I didn’t- family?” How’d he know it was family? Did he know? Did he know everything? When-

   “I mean, I just said ‘people you care about’ before. You’re the one who specified family.”

   Oh. Had they really? They hadn’t meant to. Oops.

. 

   “... Regardless,” they continued swiftly, trying to push past that blunder, “I don’t see how that would help anything.”

   “You don’t see how spending time with people you care about would be good for you?”

   Ah.

   “... You have seen them since you got out of the Nether, right?”

   Uh oh.

   They tried very hard to keep their face blank. Maybe a little too hard.

   “... Dude.”

   Definitely too hard. “I-”

   They were just talking over each other now. “After we’re done in Pikoro, you really should-”

   “-It’s not that simple , I can’t just-” He could feel himself getting worked up again. “I can’t. ” He found enough strength in him to actually turn his head to the side this time. And if he was smart, he would have left it at that, but unfortunately he didn’t have quite as much of a functioning brain right now. “There’s a lot of people who aren’t as lucky as you.”

   He knew it wasn’t fair as soon as he said it. And though he couldn’t see how Laurance’s expression had changed with his head turned to the wall, he could feel it in the silence that passed over the room once again that maybe Laurance had never once felt lucky, even though he tried very hard to look like it.

   “I…sorry. Again. I keep snapping at you. I- We both know that’s not…” Usually he’s better at this. Even on the worse days, he could still manage to keep the less pleasant bits in. What was wrong with him? (Hypothermia, probably.) “I don’t… it might keep happening, until I get this… uh… better.” That didn’t even make sense. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

   He kept expecting Laurance to just leave. He really should’ve, at this point. He’s got to have gone too far this time. But maybe the guy wheezing out apologies from his sickbed wasn’t quite as hurtful as he thought he might be.

   Laurance pats his shoulder, snapping him back out of his thoughts. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Come on, three apologies is just excessive. Trust me, I understand. If anything, it’s good to know that I’m not the only one who gets snappy when I’m feeling… uh… Shadowknight-y.” And then he lets out a sigh, like ‘Can you believe this guy? Here goes Vylad, saying stupid stuff again! How silly!’

   It would be easier if he was just mad at him. That, he would understand. He didn't get how he could just bounce back from everything so unfazed.

   But, despite it all, Laurance wasn’t mad. And Vylad wasn’t mad, either. Just worn out.

   “I… think I’m just… tired. Or… something.”

   “Oh- oops, right- I was just supposed to check on you. I’m probably keeping you awake, huh?”

   Vylad finally gathered the courage to sneak a glance back over at Laurance. He had that stupid grin on his face again. They hated it when he did that. Definitely hated it.

   “Do you want me to leave so you can rest? You probably need it. You seem a bit better than you did when I first came in, but you still look pretty terrible.”

 .

   And despite all that. Despite everything.

   He didn't want him to leave.

   He really didn't. 

 .

   But…

   “... That sounds smart.”

   He couldn't hold him here forever, right?

   Laurance shifted in his seat. “How about this? I’ll go let Aphmau know you’re doing better, and then we’ll go help Lucinda with whatever thing she needs helping with, because there’s always something, and then I’ll be back here to update you on everything that happens. Alright? Sorry- you’ll be missing all the action, but I don’t think you’d want any of it in a state like this.”

   He really hoped that Laurance didn’t somehow recognize his loneliness from his words… but the promise that he’d be back did help. He took a deep breath in and out, closing his eyes and then opening them slowly.

   “... Okay.”

   He gave Vylad’s shoulder one last pat. “Don’t do anything stupid in the meantime.” Then he stood up, gently pushing the chair out and back to the corner of the room he found it in. “I’ll be back soon, ok?” 

   He exited as quietly as he entered, carefully closing the door so it didn’t shut loudly. And just like that, he was gone. The room was empty once again. (Empty except for himself, of course.)

 .

   It was shockingly hard for him to fall back asleep after that. He was tired, his entire body ached, but he couldn't do anything but lie awake and think.

   So he lies there.

   And he thinks.

 .

   And he wonders what his mother is up to, right about now.

 .

Notes:

once again a big thank you to char @awkwardfantasy aaron @disabledknockout, and cupid @boodles-of-noodles. Loves art for this fic will be linked/inserted here when its done!

also check out the other fics for the bigbang either through the collection here/through the @minecraftdiariesbigbang tumblr, theyre all awesome and everyone did a great job teehee. you can find more from me at @vyladromeave on tumblr (you are here. hello.) and @aiki.art on instagram. ok by now thank you!!!!!!

[silverjurors]

My contribution to Day 2 of Vylenix Week :D @vylenix-week

Hope you enjoy!!!

[coelakanths]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Minecraft diaries - Fandom Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Yip/Malachi (Minecraft Diaries) Characters: Levin (Minecraft Diaries), Malachi (Minecraft Diaries), Yip (Minecraft Diaries), Alexis (Minecraft Diaries), Kyle (Minecraft Diaries), Zoey (Minecraft Diaries), Aphmau (Minecraft Diaries) Additional Tags: Fluff, Minor Angst, Secret Relationship, like that one episode of friends where chandler kisses monica in front of everybody, yeah you know the one, Misunderstandings, next gen phoenix drop kids, set like right before s2e1 Summary:

Yip had a secret.

Or: the struggle of trying to keep a relationship private when your boyfriend can't keep his hands off you in front of all your nosy friends.

@minecraftdiariesbigbang <3

[here1snyan]

I made fanart for a Prince x Knight Garrance fanfic, In My Dreams! 💙💚

It's a super cute Prince x Knight AU and i'm just, so in love with it… Please go check it out on AO3!!

and also, I did intentionally reference the Bridgerton posters for this composition, I just thought it was a fitting aesthetic/vibe to go for…

[failuredraws-exe]

Cadenza Zvahl, Queen of the Swamp.

The adopted daughter of Hayden-husband to the lord of Meteli, Joh- sister to Laurance Zvahl, Cadenza fancies herself a princess.

Though, *technically* speaking, she is, in a way. Her step-father is a lord beloved by all, and her father a well respected diplomat. She is high ranking in society, wears the latest fashions, pioneers for her people, has animal (chicken) companions, is kind, understanding, fun! Everything a proper princess should be! If only she didn’t live in a swamp.

Cadenza fancies herself a princess, whilst her brother fancies her a brat.

The only *society* Cadenza is high ranking in is the little plot of muddy land they call home. She wears the latest fashions but ventures town barefoot. She does pioneer for her people! When she isn’t sleeping the days away in fields of flowers. And don’t get him started on the chickens.

She’s kind but petty, understanding but blunt, fun but irresponsible. She is aloof, she is demanding, she is young. His bratty, kid sister. The Queen of the Swamp. A name he coined, a title she hates.

A *proper* princess would live in a high castle surrounded by gardens of roses and decorated with intricately carved statues of heroes from myth and gods and goddesses! A *proper* princess would be dripping in real gold, and her clothes would be woven from the finest of silk. Her hair would be combed and her skin would be smooth! A *proper* princess would never suffer from the heat and humidity, she would be wasting the hours away, lying on a cushioned seat and being fanned by servants! A proper, acceptable princess would be born in a place like O’khasis, not Meteli.

What her brother knows, and what Cadenza will not admit, is that she is not a proper princess.

Cadenza, in all her blazing glory, is indecent.

The clothes that she wears as if they were sewn yesterday, were fashionable seasons ago. The gold bangles that adorn her wrists and ankles are fake. She bathes in lakes, consorts with chickens of all creatures, and doesn’t even attempt to wrangle her hair. Her skin is bumpy and her legs are riddled with burn marks, scars she wears proudly. On a hot day, when work needs to be done, she’d be the first out in the sun and the last inside. She is bold and loud, opting to rather have her tongue be cut out than to ever hold it. In every way that matters, she is the exact opposite of a proper, acceptable O’khasis-born Princess.

And that’s exactly why Laurance loves her.

Through all the bratty bluntness, through all the demands stands proudly a young girl who cares with all her heart about the little plot of muddy, humid, damp land they call home. The Cadenza Zvahl he loves looks upon the world in all its horror and smiles at the atrocities when everyone else would scowl. There are so many things Laurance hates about Ru’uan, but for every terrible thing he could count, Cadenza Zvahl would count five times as many things that she loves.

The Epitome of Hope, her father would call her.

When Joh passed, when her father was presumed dead, each and every time her brother went missing from the realm; she never let her grief nor anger consume her. Even when it was all she wanted to do, even when she had every right to curse the world, when she had every right to hate, and hate and hate. She always chose to love.

Cadenza Zvahl lives her life with hope. A trait that never falters, and one befitting a title far stronger than Princess.

Indecent and fashionable, blunt and understanding, proud and kind. Meteli-born and raised.

Cadenza Zvahl, the Queen of the Swamp.

[garcargofarfar]

Valentine's Cards

My Inner Demons boys x Gn!Reader

Asch x Reader, Pierce x Reader, Rhys x Reader, Leif x Reader, Noi x Reader

(Y/n),

What spells have you been casting on me. Everytime I get near you, my stomach feels uneasy, and my skin burns up. Leif says my face sometimes gets red too.

Whatever you're doing, please stop it. It's ruining my reputation and I don't appreciate your random spell-casting. Why target me only? Why not the others? I am a prince afterall.

Prisoner Ava said to get an answer, I should ask you to be my 'Valenteyen'. I don't know what spell that is as well, nor how to cast it, so fix it.

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐀𝐬𝐜𝐡

Hi♡

Be my Valentine? I give head pats.

Regards,

𝓟𝓲𝓮𝓻𝓬𝓮

Dear (Y/n),

Ava told me about this thing called a Valentine. Apparently, it's when one feels affection towards another being. Isn't that fascinating?

I feel affection towards you, I think. Would you like to be my Valentine? We could go get ice cream together, have you tried? It's amazing!

Ava said I should ask you to meet me at some time in the letter if you're interested, so would you like to meet now?

Love,

𝑹𝒉𝒚𝒔

Princess,

Don't waste your time on the others. They don't know what they're talking about.

We could totally go out together. Just sharpened my daggers the other day, we could totally put them to use and go kill some people. I'm not taking no for an answer. Be my Valentine.

Your future boyfriend,

𝕷𝖊𝖎𝖋

HEY (Y/N),

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!! Is that how you spell it? Ava said that you humans do this thing called a 'Valentine's Day' where you give the person you care about LOTS OF HUGS AND KISSES!!

And, well, you're the person that first came to mind! :D

I wish you all the best and hope you have all the loves and kisses on Earth and on Daemos!!!! Will you be my Valentine? Love you lots!!

xoxo(Ava said this means hugs and kisses)

🧡ɴᴏɪ

- × - × - × - × - × - × - × -

PDH VER

[iridiss]

Art for my MCD Rewrite fic, Shared Interests, diving into Zane’s trauma (mainly from becoming a Shadow Knight, though there’s definitely some religious trauma and trauma from his family thrown in there too)

[lofty-darlings-thoughts]

Imagine Travis Valkrum crushing on you but you're oblivious...

"Hey, buddy!" He'd call out every time he sees you, brushing his snowy white bangs out of his face. You return the greeting and carry on with your day, unaware of his flushed face.

"You look good today!" He comments with a wink every so often, you brush it off because he does have a slight reputation for being a flirt.

You don't always notice the small glances, when you do he stutters and trys to say he was looking at something behind you... reeeeeeaaaaal smooth(sarcasm)

You overhear him rambling from time to time to anyone who will listen to his woes (whining) about how he's so alone.

Although, on his better days he is willing to try to woo you with flowers or a good joke. Although those bold days are few and far between.

If only he could man up and outright say he likes you...

Yes, another one. -Darling

[stellisketches]

For the worldbuilding of MCD how good do you interpret their knowledge of medicine as being? I don't remember if any other characters besides Irene/Aphmau have specifically healing magic that they perform (besides from maybe potions.) Do you think the majority of healers have magics or that maybe doctors of old studied Irene and her abilities and were somehow able to come up with new inventions in the field that the average non-magic person could use? Fictional healthcare is always interesting.

ooh you had me thinking hard about this one.

For one thing, I think progress in health care varies a bit by region. I'll make things easier by focusing mostly on Ru'Aun so I don't go off into a tangent. I'd say as a quick, rough comparison their probably up to 15-16th century standards as a whole. They understand certain things/activities/conditions make people unwell but they likely don't have a lot of scientific reasoning as to why.

Seeing as how persecuted magicks users are and the fact magicks cannot be learned, I'd say that the number of pure magick healers (like Aphmau's level of potency to just vanish wounds) in the region is pretty low. I could see these types of healers into two broad categories: I think the first would find safety as personal healers to high ranking noble families seeing they would likely be given their own security team plus the chance to live in relative comfort. The second type would be travelling healers- ones that would keep their power and identity on the down-low and just go from village to village performing miracles where they could. This would be a lot more dangerous but also morally-sound as they aren't being exclusive about who they heal and receive little if any payment.

We already know magick is an inherited trait, it's not something that can be taught, this leaves the only viable mix for medicine and magic (if I don't use the k assume I'm talking about the broader sense of the word) to be witchcraft and/or alchemy or something a bit more in-between. What interesting about this topic is that real world medicine/healing has had an underlying connotation of something magical/otherworldly for literally the entirety of human history up until, like, a couple of centuries ago. So I think the real question should be at what point do the Ru'Aunians separate natural remedy from the magical, or do they bother to separate it at all? Is it different depending on what part of Ru'Aun you live in? At what point does a cough syrup get the label of potion or elixir, or are all concoctions that affect the body given the potion treatment?

Personally, I haven't really decided on anything specific yet. My guess is that it's a very hybridized field where they don't make a whole lot of differentiation/hard classification on which medicines are natural and which are magic. You may have doctors performing witchcraft without them even realizing it and/or witches who sell the equivalent of tylenol in the bottle next to their nightvision and invisibility potions.

Also I'm just now realizing I brought up the subject of alchemy that I kinda wanted to expand upon but I might just save that for another time.

[gonedreaminggg]

i started writing a fanfic, and all I did was type Laurance into my google doc and my computer fucking crashed.

[izzybella1807]

Diaries: Whispers of Destiny |

Part 1 - Chapter 2

★★★ Ⅱ ★★★

"Ugh, why are you so annoying?" Gene groaned at his younger sister as the trio walked through the village. Maria had told Gene to bring his two younger siblings around the village to show them what he does as a guard. Gene wasn't that fond of his younger siblings, I mean, he quite liked Dante but he couldn't stand Grace. Although both of them knew about the bad he had done to get the position Gene had, Grace knew everything and I mean everything. Grace knew every bad thing he has done and what he was really like.

"Gene give up the moaning and get on with the guarding," Grace said, rolling her eyes. Gene gave her an angry glare, "You don't tell me what to do." The two started bickering, Gene giving out about how annoying Grace was and Grace giving out about how much she hated him.

"Ahem," came a voice behind them. The three quickly turned around to see a girl with beautiful blonde hair and wearing a beautiful white dress with baby blue flowers. "Lady Melody," Gene said, bowing down to her. "Hello Gene," she said sweetly as she noticed Dante and Grace standing beside him.

"Oh my Irene, Gene, are these your siblings?" She asked. Gene looked down at us as Grace gave him a smirk. Gene knew that if he wanted to impress Melody, he would have to be nice to Grace and Dante, No matter how much he hated them. "Yep, these are my lovely brother and sister, Dante and Grace!" Gene replied, putting his arms over his two siblings' shoulders.

Grace looked up at Gene and raised an eyebrow. Although she wasn't that much shorter than him - she was just above his shoulder. "Don't ruin this for me, okay?" Gene muttered to Grace, under his breath. That's when Grace realised what he was up to. Grace realised that this was the girl he liked. This was the girl he never stopped talking about at home. 'This is going to be fun' Grace thought to herself, a smirk growing on her face.

"Yeah, Gene loves us, especially when he says I'm the most annoying little sister on earth," Grace smirked. Gene glared at Grace before kicking her on the back of the leg causing Grace wince in pain. Gene Laughed nervously as Melody raised an eyebrow. "Don't mind Grace, I'm only messing when I say that. Isn't that right Grace?" Gene asked gritting his teeth at his sister while ruffling her hair, trying to play it off.

Grace smirked at him before looking back at Melody, "Nope." Melody was quite confused at the whole problem and decided her was going to leave them to sort it out. "Okay... I'm going to leave you all alone so you can figure out this... disagreement. I'll see you around Gene," Melody said as she began to walk away.

When Melody was out of sight, Gene took his arm from around Grace's shoulder and pushed her to one side. "You really had to do that, didn't you?" He said angrily to me. Grace smirked, "Of course I did, I wasn't going to let you lie to the girl that you like, was I?" Gene's eyes widened, "WHAT?! How did you know?"

Grace rolled her eyes at him. "It's so obvious, you act differently around her," she explained, still smirking at her older brother. "Wait isn't that the Lord's daughter?" Dante asked, his gaze following Melody as she walked off.  "That's right," Grace smirked. "She is the Lord's daughter and Gene really thinks he has a chance with her? Definitely not when she finds out what Gene is really like." 

Dante and I giggled to ourselves when Gene growled at us. "Both of you just go home and tell Mom that I had to go to a guard meeting or something," he said as he stormed off. Grace rolled her eyes as she watched her older brother storm off, before she turned to Dante. 

"Sword fight?" Grace asked, Dante nodding in agreement. "Race ya to the meadow!" Dante cried before he raced off towards the meadows, Grace following close behind him.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

"Grace!" Dante cried as rushed into his older sister's room. Grace was sitting on her bed drawing in her sketchbook. She love drawing, it's what she does most of the time. She's also a pretty good artist but she doesn't draw anything in particular, just what comes to mind.

"Dante? Are you okay?" Grace asked, looking up from her sketchbook. "It's Gene, he's up to his schemes again," Dante said, rather panicked. "What's he up to this time?" Grace asked as she sat on the edge of her bed.

Dante took a deep breath, "You know how we found out that he has this power to manipulate memories? And how we found out that he is in love with the lord's daughter?" Grace nodded, gesturing for him to continue.

"Well, he figured out that the Lord's daughter doesn't love him back so he's planning on breaking into her room tonight and using his power to manipulate her memory, to make her think that she does like him," Dante explained.

Grace's eyes widened, she knew that Gene wasn't a good person but she didn't think he would do something on this level. "We have to tell someone!" she cried, leaving her sketchbook down and jumping off her bed. Dante nodded, "We need to tell the Lord." Grace nodded in agreement, before the two rushed out of the house and down the street to the Lord's house.

★★★

"Please, we need to speak to the lord! This is urgent!" Grace begged the guards who stood by the door, but they refused. They were about to give up when they heard a voice behind them. "Aren't you Gene's Brother and sister?"

The two turned around to see Lady Melody standing behind them with a warm smile. Dante and Grace nodded before Melody continued. "Are you okay? You both seem a little worried," Lady Melody asked them. Grace glanced at Dante before turning back to Melody.

"We need to talk to the Lord, urgently," she explained. Melody raised an eyebrow, "Is everything okay?" Grace nodded, "We just need to speak to the Lord." Lady Melody nodded and gave the two a warm smile, "Follow me, then."

˜"*°•.•°*"˜

"Father, these two children have informed me that they urgently need to speak with you, have you go a moment for them?" Melody asked her father as we entered his house. The Lord raised an eyebrow, "Is everything okay?"  Melody shrugged, "I'm not sure, they just have told me that they need to speak with you."

The Lord nodded. "I shall take my leave now," Melody said as she left the room. There was silence for a moment before Dante spoke up. "Lord Havakus, our brother, Gene Brosna is planning on doing something really bad and needs to be stopped," he explained.

The Lord raised an eyebrow as Dante continued. "Gene has this power to manipulate memories, and he plans to use it on your daughter to make her love him just like he loves her." The Lord's eyes widened, "Thank you both for informing me of this. I shall have my guards find him right away."

Tears started to form in Dante's eyes, "What are you going to do to him?" The Lord noticed that Dante was quite upset before he sighed "I'm just going to talk to Gene and ask him to not mess with my daughter's memory," The Lord explained. "Don't worry, I will not hurt him."

Although the Lord's words seemed to stop Dante's tears, Grace knew that was not what was going to happen. She knew that they weren't just going to talk to him and ask him to not mess with Lady Melody's memory. It was going to be far greater than that.

[laurancezvahlslefteyebrow]

hi so i wanted to add on to the lore of this statue and my rewrite

Y’all remember when Aphmau Laurance and Katelyn were exploring the chapel on alliance island and Aph and Laur fell through the floor? And how they come across a room filled with art and mosaics and how it turned out to be a tomb?

Yeah they found it there.

But who’s tomb is it??

Well in canon it’s heavily implied to be Kul’Zak’s but see, in my rewrite, that simply wouldn’t work. Because Kul’Zak, along with the rest of the Divine Warriors (excluding Irene and Shad) were kind of…. Incinerated. Evaporated, if you will. They died, yes, but there would be no body to bury.

So again, who’s tomb?

..

Xavier’s.

When Xavier was killed, Irene felt so much sorrow and guilt that she gathered all she could to give him the most beautiful tomb possible. She even had the statue made so they could truly be together one last time.

And the artifact they find in his coffin? It’s a fragment of Shad’s soul. It’s the very thing that killed Xavier. When his body turned to dust, the fragment became visible. It was difficult to remove, as it had attached itself to his body and thus, his soul.

When Aphmau pried it free, Laurance felt a sort of tugging at his chest. And when it was out, he felt a sharp stinging or burning sensation but after a moment he felt like he could breath clearer. He told none of this to anyone of course.

After she had it free, she tried to give it to Laurance to hold but it burned his hands. They later figured out that it burned all the Shadow Knight’s hands. For some, unknown reason, Shadow Knights specifically could not hold it.

..

Also it was Laurance and Aphmau who found the statue, which is ironic seeing as it’s quite literally them. Trust that they were confused.

But it served as more proof that Aphmau and Irene were connected…

[raisunomii]

today, garroth ro'meave.

[a drabble preceding garroth faking his death, as i see it.]

The castle is silent. The castle has been silent since Garte left. Garroth didn't ask where he was going. He didn't care, as long as the shouting stopped.

The silence screeches like a wyvern.

RO'MEAVE ROYAL RESIDENCE, O'KHASIS, 5 A.M.

It's cold, Garroth thinks the moment his eyes snap open. He's always been an early riser. His feet against the cool stone-brick that comprises his bedroom floor is familiar, but is never welcome. He makes his way across the room regardless, stumbling to the bathroom. He strikes a match, his oil lamp lighting seconds later.

Stubble is the enemy.

He drops his blade on the sink when he's finished.

Sometimes Garroth wakes before the servants. Today, however, is not one of those days. The halls are as lively as ever- that is to say, stray whispers echo through the walls, but one can never be sure if they come from the wind or some creature.

And his mother has never been one to talk to herself.

RO'MEAVE ROYAL RESIDENCE, O'KHASIS, 6 A.M.

"Mother," Garroth says, maintaining his distance. "Did you sleep well?"

Zianna does not face him. She hasn't seen him, these past few weeks, not for lack of physical closeness. Garroth is sure the cityscape is a more favorable view than him. The sunrise is always beautiful.

He takes a few steps forward and guides his mother away from the window.

"Back to bed," he whispers, but he's sure she hasn't slept. He ignores the purple mottling her left cheekbone. Dad's gone now.

Breakfast is hearty.

THE TRAINING GROUNDS AT O'KHASIS, O'KHASIS, 8 A.M.

Slash, parry, pass. Slash, parry, pass. Again. Slash, parry, and if he's lucky, he won't think of Nicole.

Garroth can't remember the last time Irene favored him with 'luck'. His brother's always had that honor.

"Brother."

And he shall appear.

Garroth sheaths his blade. Zane is in full attire, Garroth notes. Wonder who he killed today. Must've been clean- his robes are still white.

"Well? Speak if you will," Garroth instructs, jutting up his chin for a mere second. Zane's gaze is full of disgust. Another day.

"A letter from Scaleswind found its way to my hands," Zane pauses to take in Garroth's expression, carefully taking in the slightest twitch of his brother's brow. "Nicole is set to come in a week."

Garroth nods. "I look forward to it."

He turns back to his craft, hoping Zane will leave, or at the least, be mindful enough not to stab him in the back. Slash-

"Mother slept the night," Zane says, "or at least some of it."

"I sent her to bed this morning." Parry. He can feel Zane's spirits drop. Pass.

Zane's boots crackle against the dirt as he leaves.

RO'MEAVE ROYAL RESIDENCE, O'KHASIS, 6 P.M.

Gnawing hunger is quickly welcomed once one realizes it keeps the mind off of unwanted betrothal. This is why Garroth has delayed dinner to stew in his own sorrow. Quite literally- the bath is much too hot today. What were the servants thinking?

His skin is red. Lady Irene.

The doorknob to the bath jiggles and Garroth has to fight back a groan.

"Bathing!" He shouts, though it doesn't make a difference, because the door swings open anyways. "Must you harass me while I'm in the tub?"

"I find you're less prone to fits of silence like this," Vylad says smoothly, dragging up a chair to the side of the tub. "Odd. Should I be cornered in a bath tub, I may refuse to speak at all."

Vylad is met with an eye roll. This does not deter him. He prattles on for about twenty minutes until Garroth demands he leave, at which point he wanders to the dining room to wait for Garroth to get dressed for a shared dinner.

Vylad often forgets to eat.

RO'MEAVE ROYAL RESIDENCE, O'KHASIS, 2 A.M.

Slowly and quickly does he in patterns scurry, as a mouse avoiding a scythe during harvest. His boots make soft noises on the brick which thunder in the silence of the O'Khasis morning. Moreso, in the temporary silence of the Ro'Meave Residence.

His bag is heavy and his sword clatters with movement. Every noise is detriment.

"Garroth?"

He whips around.

"Mother," Garroth says, standing what may be miles from Zianna, but he's sure is only a few meters. Their eyes do not meet, but he sees confusion all the same.

"What are you doing? It's late, too late for you to..." Mother trails off, making way for more screaming, intolerable silence.

It is the first time they've spoke in weeks.

"Training. Early morning training."

He can see his mother force back a scoff, because for all her despair, she's never been daft. Garroth knows that she doesn't have the energy to deal with his antics at the moment. She knows this as well, and sighs, turning away.

"Be safe," she calls.

"I will!"