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daylite-writes · 1 year ago

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Welcoming Legacy (It welcomes you) - SAGAU ft. Foul Legacy Tartaglia

Ever since you woke up in Teyvat, you’ve been… confused. The memories of your previous life fading, leaving you to wander. One thing was for certain though, the people here despised you for the face you wore. That was, until waking in the Snezhnayan wilderness after another death, a certain abyssal harbingers saves you from the cold.

cw: imposter au SAGAU shenanigans, temporary death, hyperthermia, passing out, not very yandere (but from his perspective it definitely would be), hurt/comfort, Capitano cameo! Written to be x reader ish, but it’s vague and ur kinda cold so can be read as Romantic or Platonic! Will be tagging as both lemme know if it shouldn’t be.

1.5k words

~~~

It’s almost funny, you think, how he’s the one who reconsized you first.

No. Not recognised. This was the first time you’d met any of them. The vision holders, the ‘characters’ that you once fawned over and held very dear. They wouldn’t know your name, your face—except for the fact they did. And they hated you for it. “Impersonator”, “Heretic”, “Damned”, “Witch.”

They all looked at you as if you’d committed a grave crime. A slight that could not be forgiven. But how could you have? You were given this name, and born with this face.

And yet you were hunted. And yet you were killed. Arrow through the heart, spear through the back, claymore to the ribs. The pain was unbearable, but death wasn’t the end. Each time you closed your eyes, hoping for an end to the nightmare, you awoke somewhere new.

You recognized the landscape from hours spent playing the game, and quickly learned to avoid settlements, villages, and most importantly, vision holders. The pain of death was too much, leaving your body trembling with sobs and quietly pleading to whatever force put you on Teyvat to just let you go home.

After the fourth death—at the hands of an electro charged spear, courtesy of a certain mahamantra—you woke up, shaking uncontrollably. Only this time, not from phantom pains or the emotional toll of death. This time, is was due to a heavy, bone deep, unnatural cold.

Snezhnaya.

Of course it had to be Snezhnaya.

You whimpered, cursing your luck. This would be a slow, painful death if you couldn’t find shelter and fast.

Stumbling to your feet—bare, the clothes that stayed with you after death did not include them—you looked around pitifully. A snowy forest. Beautiful, but useless, and hard to see far in. You’d never been to Snezhnaya in game either, so there was no way you’d be able to find shelter. Pitifully, you dragged yourself under a tree, curling into yourself under the pine’s branches, hoping it wouldn’t be too painful. Achingly, you let your eyes close, waiting for the next place.

Only, before the cold took you, a rumbling call broke through the tranquil silence of the forest.

Blearily, you opened your eyes. Some kind of beast? It wasn’t like you were familiar with the creatures of Snezhnaya. But it didn’t sound like a normal enemy monster. It was sad, keening… longing.

It called out again. You… would rather die quickly to a beast than slowly to hypothermia, you supposed.

“Here,” you called out weakly. You clicked your tongue a few times, as if luring in a cat. “Come on.”

You laughed slightly. Had delusion from hypothermia set in so quickly? You were making kissy noises at the monster in the forest. Luring in your death with soft sweet noises.

The forest was still for a moment. And then it wasn’t.

Snow crunched underfoot of what was undoubtedly a large creature. You were pretty sure you heard the waning bend of pine trees as it shoved pass.

Was this a mistake? Probably. You were too cold to care. Maybe its claws would be warm as it tore you apart. Ha. Wouldn’t that be nice?

At some point your eyes had slipped closed again, but it was close now. You could hear it. So close—you waited for the sink of claws into your flesh—

It came to a stop in front of you, inches away, maybe, if the warm breath on your skin was any indication.

In a raspy, warbling tone, it spoke English. “Creator?”

What?

You opened your eyes again, and gasped as you saw… Tartaglia? No, not him, exactly. But, his Foul Legacy. The rough plates of armor adorning his limbs, the red mask with a singular clouded pearl eye in the center, the sheer size of him.

“Ajax?” You mumbled.

“Creator!” It said again, rough, desperate, as if it had a throat not made for speaking.

“Hi.” You said simply, before your eyes slipped closed.

Warmth.

There was warmth.

A lot of warmth.

Fire.

You sighed, not daring to open your eyes for fear it might disappear. That you might still be laying in the snow, your blood crystallizing in your veins.

A smooth, clawed hand cupped your cheek, then your jaw, tilting your head back. Was this when the pain would come? You stirred a bit, but little nothing happened. The thing holding you sighed, gently pressing the sides of your cheek to open your jaw. What? What was happening? You hardly had time to panic before something warm was poured into your mouth, and his inhuman hand latched around your mouth to keep it shut.

You whimpered, eyes still closed—gods you really didn’t want to open them. You really couldn’t mentally confront what was happening. For now, it needed to stay invisible, it needed to not be real—as the liquid sat in your mouth. You refused to swallow, but it tasted like broth? Was it broth? You decided you didn’t care, not so long as you were being forced to drink—

That was, until its other hand came up and began to massage your throat. You sputtered, the rough finger pads gently rubbing against your throat forcing you to swallow after a moment.

It’s… nice. Warm but not hot, and definitely just some sort of broth now that you think about it. The next time the edge of a bowl is set against your lips, you drink of your own volition.

Whatever was caring for you seemed happy, as its rumbling chest, reminiscent of a cat's purr, seemed to indicate. Honestly, you were too, going slack against it, hiding your face in what you think is it’s neck, lined with a mane of fur, as it rubbed circles into your scars. The old aches of death soothing under its fingerpads.

Sleep came easy.

The next time you woke up, you weren’t so afraid to open your eyes.

Strangely calm, you didn’t even jump at the sight in front of you.

Probably seven feet tall, with thick, armored plates running up his body, a mix of purples, blues, blacks and reds coloring his body. His mask was a dull red, and an abyssal blue, almost jewel like eye was set in the center.

Foul legacy. Tartaglia’s abyssal form. This was Childe, no—

“Ajax?”

He practically melted, wrapping around you at the raspy croak of his own name.

You sighed, snuggling into the small fur mane around his neck.

“What are… what are you doing here?” Wasn’t he out of the country? You weren’t sure what point in the story you arrived during, but none of them had him in his homeland for long. “Isn’t being in that form for too long dangerous?”

He smiled. Well, ‘smile’ was a bad term. He curled back his lips and opened his plated maw, one you didn’t know he had. It was hidden among the red armor of his mask, which you were now convinced were just, ya know, his face when in foul legacy. His maw, black and almost a void inside, lined with row after row of sharp, shark-like teeth. He yawned, wide, before snapping his mouth shut with a little clack.

You couldn’t help the small giggle that bubbled up from your throat.

He seemed to like that, purring as he set his chin atop your head.

Your giggle faded away, and your face fell. You gave a soft sigh, body aching slightly. With a quiet voice, you could help but ask what’d been gnawing at you since you woke.

“Why… Why are you helping me?”

“Because the ones who hurt you are fools.”

That was not Ajax.

You turned your head, towards the entrance of the cave Ajax had holed the two of you up in.

When you saw who it was, you shied into the arms of Foul Legacy, who was happy enough to wrap his arms around you.

Capitano’s intimidating figure blocked the entrance of the cave, mask glinting in the fire light.

“I apologize for the late arrival, I was combing the west side of the valley for you. Tartaglia seemed to find you first.”

“I…” What?

Capitano stepped deeper into the cave, his steps were confident, but the closer he got, he lowered his head. It almost looked like a sign of respect.

A mere few strides away, he reached a hand out—to greet you? Touch you? You were sure, as before he could do anything, Ajax dragged you closer and responded to Capitano with a guttural growl.

“Quiet, eleventh.” Capitano commanded. Despite his unhappiness, Ajax obliged, letting Capitano closer.

A cold metal gauntlet approached your face slowly, before cupping your face. Gently, it tilted your jaw up, forcing you to meet the void of his mask.

You didn’t know that when the firelight hit your irises, they glittered with constellations, or that the veins barely visible against the white of your eyes were gold.

What you did see through, was the way his heavy shoulders dropped, and you heard a reverent sigh of relief. He dipped his head lower, and you swore crystal blue eyes blinked slowly down at you.

“Welcome to the waking world, dear Creator. Celestia has kept you asleep and unseeing for far too long.”

~~~

Omg this had so much more but the plot got out of hand so I just took the first bits and left the rest out. TECHNICALLY there’s lord and explanations but I know I’d never finish a cohesive plot so here we are! My first attempt as SAGAU!

Gonna update my ask specifics soon as well as answer one!

ALSO IVE BEEN TRYING TO FIND THIS SOULMATE AU SCARA FIC WHERE HE FINDS READER LIKE TIED OUT AS A SACRIFICE AND FINDS OUT SHES HIS SOULMATE AND HE LIKE BRINGS HER ALONG WITH HIM AND SHE IS LIKE SICK FROM THE COLD AND HES ALL WORRIED AND LIKE “FORGET THEM THEY BTRAYED TOU” AND I CANT FIND IT AGAINNN AAAA anyways if you’ve read it and know pls tell me

#genshin fanfic #platonic yandere #romantic yandere #soft yandere #genshin sagau #imposter au #genshin tartagalia #childe #Capitano (brief)#foul legacy

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kykyonthemoon · 2 months ago

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The Witch's Flowers

In the kingdom of Philos, witches are a scourge that must be banished. Many years have passed since the witch hunt was issued, and magic has chosen to hide in the dark forests. Deep in the heart of the forest, a field of wavy-leaf sea lavenders blossoming with blue tells the story of a young Knight and The Witch whom he was ordered to hunt down…

ಇ.Xavier x MC (Reader)

ಇ. Tags: AU, fluff with angst, hurt/comfort, HE, fairy tale, witch hunt, first pov (Xavier's)

ಇ.Word count: 3788w - oneshot.

ಇ. Requested by ChloeVN.

ಇ.Masterlist ♡ Request a fic (closed for the time being)

Blood.

The foul liquid was staining the blue petals a dark, deadly red. My palm was likewise saturated in the color as I pressed firmly on the open wound in my abdomen. Staggering, with each step a blue flower was stained with my blood. As though I were dreaming, the flower field in front of me radiated a mystical blue. I had traveled through many lands, discovered countless secrets, but I had never set foot in this place. The dark woodland encircled a field of wavy-leaf sea lavenders, in the middle of which was a cottage, where ivy wrapped around the walls, smoke billowed from the tall chimney, and warm light shone from the open window. Someone was humming a lullaby that made my eyes heavy. Everything before me wavered and blurred. The wavy-leaf sea lavenders welcomed me into their arms, cradling my lifeless body and saying:

“Rest now, rest,

O Knight of a distant land.

Sweet dreams

Shall heal all your wounds,

And wipe away your tears.

Rest now, rest…”

The dense forest at the eastern end of the kingdom had long remained a mystery. Few who ventured there could come back alive to tell the tale. Most feared the wild beasts within, while others spread rumors of witches who dwelled there. Witchcraft was a forbidden topic in Philos. Many years ago, the royal family issued an order to capture and execute everyone who practiced witchcraft. Today, no one would dare to speak of magic in public for fear of being arrested. Yet witches still existed, somewhere in the dark woodlands, concealed among mankind. And regardless of how much they feared or despised witches, the royal family aspired to wield their power.

That is why I, a knight of Philos, took on the mission of finding a cure for the ailing King.

I had never despised witches. To me, nobody was born good or wicked. But my oath of devotion to the royal family compelled me to travel to the East, fight monsters, and find a witch with the mythical power to bring the dead back to life. I kept adventuring and struggling until my feet could no longer move.

And then I awoke in a little room filled with the aroma of herbs. I was covered in pale blue wavy-leaf sea lavender blossoms. They tumbled into the bed as I rose up.

The pleasant singing voice that I had been listening to since regaining consciousness abruptly stopped. A few seconds later, a girl approached the door.

"How are you feeling?"

I was slightly taken aback. I had no idea who she was; if I had ever met a person this beautiful, I would never forget her. She was as lovely as the blue flowers outside the cottage, glowing naturally and without pretense. Her tenderness made me feel secure, and I was able to rest even though I had no idea where I was or what I would confront without my sword in hand.

“Hey there, Knight!” She suddenly came closer, leaning down extremely near to me. I could detect the aroma of wavy-leaf sea lavenders emanating from her. "Can you hear me?!"

Her little fingers waved in front of my eyes. While I was still in a trance, she mumbled to herself:

“Oh, did I make the wrong potion?… Have I… ruined him?…”

She dashed out of the room in a panic. She reappeared shortly after, with a steaming bowl of potion. She handed it to me.

"Drink this."

I took it. The peculiar liquid was dark blue, and the scent made me nauseous. I gazed up to meet her eyes.

"Would it be all right if I refuse this?"

She was a little startled when she heard me. She replied, “So you can speak?! I thought you… Oh, give me the potion.”

I was relieved she had moved the bowl of potion away from me. Then she stepped closer, closer than before, leading me to lean back slightly and rest one hand on the bed.

“So are you feeling better? Does it still hurt anywhere?” she inquired. Her gaze swept me from head to stomach. “Let me check your wound!”

Without waiting for my consent, her fingers slipped under my shirt. I was astonished and swiftly grabbed her wrist.

“What… What are you doing?”

“Checking your wound. I just told you!”

She brushed my hand away and lifted my shirt, revealing my abdomen where the monster’s deep cut had healed completely. There was no trace left to indicate that I had almost passed through the gates of Death. This confused me as well.

“It’s healed now. You’re recovering well!”

The girl smiled. Her cool fingertips stroking my flesh caused me to blush. I pulled my shirt down in a haste.

"That was you. You've healed me, right?

She did not respond immediately, but instead gave a mysterious grin. "If I said I had intended to use your body as fertilizer for my flowers, would you believe me?"

I was astonished to hear her say that. She laughed.

“Don’t worry, I have no intention to do that yet. As long as you don’t burn me on the pyre, I won’t harm you.”

Her gaze shifted to the corner of the table, where my sword rested. She was already aware of my identity, and she may have assumed I was here to hunt her down.

"So you're… a witch?"

She stared at me. A trace of grief appeared on her face, but she instantly cracked a playful grin.

"I am a witch, the most malevolent one in this realm. I did not save you out of any mercy. I only needed someone to test my handcrafted potions."

I looked at the bowl of horrible potion, which had already lost its smoke. My wound had healed entirely, yet my body still ached and I was fatigued. Faced with a witch, I doubted I would be able to flee to the forest's edge. Not to mention the savage monsters who waited for me outside. In addition, I still had to repay the person who saved my life.

After considering it for a while, I said to her:

“If you need me, I’m here. I want to repay your kindness.”

The Witch smiled. “You shall replant my beloved flowers that you've ruined out there first.”

From that day on, I stayed in the cottage with The Witch. Her treatment helped me purge the monster poison from my body. Day by day, I healed rapidly. However, I still used the excuse of not regaining my strength yet so that I could stay here. II frequently assisted her with little errands such as repairing the cottage, woodcutting in the deep forest, or hunting animals. She cooked really well and even provided me with a comfortable spot to sleep in the living room. I immediately realized it had been a long time since I recalled what a regular life was like.

As a child, I was trained to become a knight. My existence revolved around the orders and expectations of my clan. Yet here, in the midst of nowhere, the load on my shoulders appeared to be removed, along with the shining, hefty armor. And before I knew it, I had grown to enjoy the quiet life here.

I also fell in love with the girl who cared for me every day. How could I not, knowing that beneath that mystery exterior was a really compassionate person? Despite her claims that she was using me for potion testing, everything she gave me was a tonic. She said I was her errand guy, but whenever she cooked something, she let me have it first. She treated me, a knight - who was originally ordered to hunt her down - with all her sincerity and kindness.

If it had not been for the edict to kill witches, she would not have had to flee to the farthest reaches of the kingdom.

“Xavier? Don't just stand there. Bring me the potion.”

Her voice echoed across the wavy-leaf sea lavender field. She was sitting on the ground, with the baby unicorn creature resting on her lap. She took care of not only me, but also the wild animals and even monsters in the forest. Sometimes they would come to the cottage in tatters, and she would heal them. I wondered if she had considered me to be one of those creatures when she had first seen me.

I delivered the potion to The Witch. She put some blue liquid into the unicorn's mouth. It groaned, fought for a time, and finally fell asleep soundly.

"How many times have I told you not to go too far from the forest? Humans will catch you, skin you, and eat you alive!"

The little animal turned over in her arms. She stroked its one-horned head, then looked at it with loving eyes. Like her, the creatures living in this forest had never harmed anyone before, yet they were frequently hurt by humans chasing them or putting traps along the woodland's border.

After a moment, I spoke to her: “Not all humans are so cruel.”

She looked at me. The wavy-leaf sea lavender field swirled in the bright sunlight around us. I wished I could give her a life free of worry and dread of being persecuted. I wished I could give her my entire heart, but I was not qualified to do so. I was not deserving of her.

“Yes,” she answered. “Xavier is a human, but he won’t hurt us!” She patted the small unicorn in her arms again.

"Ouch!" I grabbed my head, appearing to be in agony. "I suddenly feel a little dizzy…"

She smiled at me. She let me lean on her shoulder and rubbed her cheek into my hair.

“Why are you so weak? Are you certain that you’re a knight, Xavier?”

I was unresponsive, just continued to pretend. I was afraid to tell her that I had come here to find a cure for death, and that she was the witch with such power. I had been discreetly investigating her for quite some time before concluding that she was the one I was looking for. She was capable of curing all ailments and even bringing life back to some creatures that were dying, like in mythology. However, a part within me refused to believe it. I did not want to be the bringer of her death.

Her lullaby resounded again. In the midst of the blooming way-leaf sea lavenders dancing in the breeze, I dreamed of a peaceful vision where I would stay here forever, with her.

Good things came to an end so soon. My blue dream was exactly the same.

The other knights had managed to track me down. The forest sent a warning to The Witch, and I knew it was time to say goodbye to her.

We sat beneath the falling stars. The wavy-leaf sea lavenders, bathed in the light from above, went about their serene lives, unknowing of the impending calamity. I silently begged that time would stand still as The Witch placed her head on my shoulder and watched the shooting stars.

“You have made up your mind, Xavier?”

She asked, and I nodded. Then she sat up straight to look me in the eye. Behind her was a silver strip of the falling star that had just split the night sky in two. Broken.

“You’re not pretending to be weak anymore?”

The Witch was well aware that I had been acting all along in order to win her gentle care. I grinned.

“"If I could, I would remain here with you forever. But I need to depart and distract the other knights. They should not come here and find you.”

Silence descended between us. The shower of stars above was fading away. After a while, The Witch spoke:

“Will we ever meet again?”

I dared not promise her anything. Perhaps I was like those stars, briefly soaring across her serene flower field before plummeting into the endless night. I took her hand, then gently placed a kiss on it.

“As long as I breathe, I will always search for you.”

The Witch leaned in extremely close. My heart missed a beat. Just when I thought she was ready to kiss me, she chuckled and slipped a sprig of wavy-leaf sea lavenders in my hair.

“Worry not. I can defend myself. I’ve been hiding from humans for so long.”

“I know you can’t bear to leave this forest. You don’t want to spend your whole life in fear, or keep running away either.”

This place had always been her sanctuary. And mine. Neither of us could bear to leave it behind.

“Just keep your word and come find me.”

Our little fingers intertwined in a sacred ritual under the blessing of the shooting star and blue flowers. Then, she leaned towards me again to grant me a real kiss.

“I can’t take it anymore. I have to tell you the truth!”

The voice of Jeremiah, another knight in my troop, interrupted my afternoon siesta. We had been on the road for several days, far from the forest where my Witch resided.

"You've been misled!" Jeremiah stated this while sitting beside me under a tree.

“What are you babbling about?” I rubbed my eyes. Jeremiah looked around to make sure we weren’t being overheard before lowering his voice to me. “He knows. Our teacher has been tracking a witch in those woods for a long time. After you disappeared, he sent people to investigate the area. I don’t know what happened to you there, Xavier. But he thinks you’ve been… bewitched! So he sent us here on purpose to get you out of the woods. He’ll deal with the witch himself.”

“What did you just say?!” I broke out of my daze.

“I’m telling you this because you’re my good friend. You’ve been talking about that witch all these days. I can't keep the truth from you, knowing that you would regret it for the rest of your life."

I got up and went to get my horse. I galloped through the trees, and Jeremiah’s voice cheered me on from behind:

“Go, Xavier! May the winds take you to her!”

But I was still a little too late.

The wavy-leaf sea lavender field before my eyes was burning, and the cottage where The Witch and I had spent our days together was also engulfed in flames. I heard her screams mixed with the roars of the miserable creatures who had just sacrificed themselves under the cutting sword to defend the Witch.

I gripped the hilt of my sword and pointed it at that person. My mentor.

“Xavier. Do you recall when I warned you that the spells of witches corrupt the minds of humans?”

Over the shoulder of my mentor, the illustrious Grand Knight of Philos, I caught a glimpse of The Witch. Her hands were bound with shackles invented specifically for witch hunting. The blood trickling from her pale face came from the creatures that had died for her, and it was the same crimson liquid that stained the blue flowers.

The Witch's eyes were filled with hatred rather than fear. Yet when she saw me, she almost burst into tears.

“She has never harmed anyone,” I said. “Please let her go.”

“Let her go?” the Grand Knight repeated. He laughed aloud. His elderly but still powerful physique trembled beneath his dazzling armor. “She is the one we seek. She is the one who can save the King!”

"At what cost?" I demanded. "Her life?" You taught me to wield my sword to fight for my principles and defend what I hold dear. But all I see here is my revered mentor hurting innocent creatures at the commands of a dying man!"

The Grand Knight turned to face me.

“The royal order is my life’s principle! Xavier, you are my favorite pupil, yet you have also disappointed me the most! In such a short period of time, you have become so enchanted by that witch that you are unable to discriminate between good and bad!"

My sword became even more steady as it was directed toward him. I replied:

“And you, my mentor, have been sleeping in the honor and orders you have been given all this time. You have forgotten what your sword once protected!”

I charged towards the Grand Knight, who did not flinch as he parried my attack. Everything I knew, every fighting skill I had mastered, was taught to me by this man. I remembered the training sessions between the two of us, when I was very young. He had told me that only the strong could defend the ones they loved. So that child practiced till he bled every day in order to be recognized by his mentor and protect his clan.

At that time, the witch hunt had not yet been issued. A few years later, when I officially became a knight, the King, in order to find the elixir of immortality, had relentlessly persecuted witches, using violence to suppress them. The myth of witches using magic to hurt innocent people was only a pretext for the royal family to publicly execute them and use their blood to create the elixir. But this was not how magic worked. The King was gravely ill and dying, and numerous innocent witches had to give their lives for his dream of immortality.

“Let him die!” I shouted as I continued to attack the Grand Knight. “Let the King and his false immortality die!”

While I was fighting against my mentor, The Witch had vanished. She kept running away, disappearing from this place. As long as she was safe, I was willing to give up everything.

Even my life.

The blade that had served as my guiding light pierced through the gap in my armor and stabbed straight into my chest. But I also thrust the sword into the Grand Knight's neck. He stared at me. Disappointment and grief were evident in his gradually cloudy eyes. In that moment, I chose The Witch and the justice that my heart urged me to pursue. I apologized and bid farewell to my mentor. This battle was not not meant to have a winner. The Grand Knight shouted my name one last time. Then he sank on the trodden ground, strewn with blue flowers.

I clutched my chest. My feet stumbled down. Blood seeped through the armor I had barely managed to remove. The blue carpet was welcoming me one last time, just like the day I first arrived. But I still had one last wish.

“Xavier! Xavier!!!”

I heard her call my name. My Witch. She appeared beside me and drew me into her embrace. Her hands were still bound. I used my sword to cut her chains.

“You… You’re free now… Leave…”

But she held me. She cried. Her tears dropped like falling stars to the ground. My trembling fingers wiped them away, leaving only a scarlet streak on her face.

“I'm sorry… I ruined your flower field again… This will probably be… the last time…”

My entire body sank into her arms. She put me on my back, so I could see the dying sun in the distance, and her tears watered my face.

“Xavier… You can’t die…” She sobbed. “I’m the one who saved your life… You owe me your life! You are not allowed to die like this…”

I could only apologize to her. But my eyes felt heavy. I whispered to her:

“Can you… sing for me?…”

She leaned down and kissed my forehead.

“Xavier… I’ll sing… Go to sleep. When you wake up, everything will be fine…”

I was certain that I would not be able to wake up again. But if she granted me a beautiful dream, then what if I never opened my eyes?

The Witch began to sing. It was the familiar song I had heard when I had discovered this place for the very first time. It was a song meant for me.

The surrounding wavy-leaf sea lavender field suddenly glowed with a halo as my eyes slowly closed. A tremendous and pure energy surged over me, lulling me into a peaceful sleep with her song.

“Rest now, rest,

O Knight of a distant land.

Sweet dreams

Shall heal all your wounds,

And wipe away your tears.

Rest now, rest…”

I awoke on the edge of the forest. Tears were streaming down my face, and my heart felt hollow, as if I had lost something very important in the dark forest.

I thought there was a strange dream, about a girl with healing powers and wavy-leaf sea lavenders. I could not see her face clearly, nor did I recall what had happened. Like all dreams, they shattered as soon as we woke up, my eyes were dry as I turned away.

Jeremiah was the first to find me. He asked me about the Grand Knight and The Witch, but I had no impression of anything he said. The next day, news came that my mentor's lifeless body had been found in a field of withered, burned flowers. No trace of the witch was found.

Soon after, the King died. The young prince ascended the throne, and the hunt for witches was ended. Knights like myself returned to our regular patrols. Years passed, and the witches suffered no further tragedies, but they appeared to have lost their desire to be among us mortals.

One late afternoon, when I had just finished my duty and returned home, I happened to see the blue of wavy-leaf sea lavenders covering a window. I paused in front of the little flower store, hesitated for a second, then entered.

"I want to buy those." I said. The shopkeeper appeared shortly after, holding a basket of the blue flowers I wanted in her arms.

I had never met her before, I was sure of it. Yet when she smiled at me, dreams of a witch and a field of blue flowers came back to me.

Due to my specialized skills that I have honed over the years, I could recognize witches when they were near. The person standing before me was merely an ordinary girl. Yet why had my heart ached ever since I stepped into this place? Why did I feel as if I had just been reborn when she laid her eyes on me?

I could not recall the person in that dream, the one who awaited me in the field of wavy-leaf sea lavenders. Yet regardless of her identity, I would always recognize her, my Witch.

-The End-

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l-u-c-i-i-e · 2 months ago

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Another question for the vvitch community…

Do you own grimoire books? I'm not talking about your "grimoire-note-book" but about purchased books, which, when you open them, something really manifests. Whether it's the manifestation of a spirit, a breath of change, or whether it's filled with noises and ghosts. If so, how do you proceed with it? When do you choose to open it rather than another time? What positive things has this book brought and what problems has it brought to your daily life and your life as a witch or a "cunning" one, or whatever you call yourself? Did you know the book was "possessed" before you bought it, or not?

(Of course I would l-o-v-e us not to only talk about things that start with A and end with zoétia... please have pity ;)) I tag some here whose opinion I would love to have, but I would also love to have lots of different opinions, so don't hesitate, there is no wrong answer, and above all don't forget to tag me.

@buddyblanc @satsekhem @satsuti @windvexer @friend-crow @lailoken @witchcraftingboop @wildwood-faun @graveyarddirt @grayladyofthewell @aechlys @licksmenhirs @gamayunsteward @stormcrow513 @fair-is-foul @gryphis-eyes @blackthornwren @redspringthorn @plantwitch @unseelie-witch @spiritsprout

#Others Experience #Grimoires books #thanks everyone <3

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maestro04yayyy · 7 months ago

Note

maestro04yayyy, maestro04yayyy I need, I need to tell you something, cos a Chloleka thought just burned itself into my skull and I have to share it , please forgive the ramble but like!

The time time Juleka officially declares CHloe is her girlfriend, that they are dating, is right in front of their class, in a public event, when meeting Audrey.

Specifically, its Style Queen day and before the death drama starts, Chloe tries introducing Juleka whom she had managed to get some official modeling shoots for.

Audrey's suitably impressed, not quite "Most exceptionally thing I have ever seen!" impressed, but definitely, "hmm, yes, those were exceptional shots, you have potential" impressed.

However things turn sour the moment Chloe tries to keep particpating in the conversation, because:

"& what do you have to do with her Cloaco, besides sharing I assume an age demographic."

"W- Well I arranged Juleka's shoots?"

"Even a stopped clock is right once a day, digital not analog, why are you bothering her now?"

Juela, having had enough of this, "She's also my girlfriend."

Class (Gasps) Rose (Complicated feelings!)

Audrey just gives her an appraising look before saying, "You can do better."

Choe: I'm trying mommy-

"Hush Clorox, Juleka was it? Don't tether yourself to a sow on pedigree alone," She sends Andre who is approaching a scathing look, "Trust me me on that."

Chloe has to physically stop Juleka from acting up, but the seat drama starts and its all lost in the hubbub.

When Audrey storms off, Chloe races to go after her and like, my mind goes in two directions.

1: She has to pull away from Juleka who is trying to keep her there but its clearly like pulling teeth and motivated by a mixture of, "Got to make mommy happy, & she will destroy Adrien's career over this, ETC."

Juleka doesn't follow, though maybe only cos she's physically stopped, but she is snarling about tearing out the heart of a foul witch.

2: Or, Juleka tells Chloe to stop, as in the firm, clear commands and Chloe does, but tries not to and is just like, clearly struggling, cos she can't do what Juleka says and make mommy happy, but she can't ignore Juleka and-

She kind of nearly starts disintegrating on the spot as she tries to find a solution and is basically half escorted, half carried away by Juleka.

Whatever the case,

Style Queen happens, Chloe manages to reason herself & probably Juleka out of being dusted if she's close by or Juleka had otherwise left the room and wasn't hit.

Adrien's still out of the fight, but Marinette decides with Chat absent she needs fire power as well as stopping power & takes both tiger & bee!

Who ends up with wat how is still up in the air, cos again it could go many ways.

Like, she may still want Bee for Alya, but want to give Juleka the tiger to work out some of her anger. Or she may even be debating Chloe as she'd have adjusted a decent amount of her behavior at this stage, or at least some if Juleka told her to or helped her socialize, but maybe not.

It could go just like canon but two Miraculous boxes are lost, or only one, or Juleka finds one and trans forms to go fuck up Audrey or her office and possessions at a minimum, or Chloe is the one to find it. Or they both find one, possibly knowingly stealing said Miraculous is Juleka was with Chloe but not turned to dust like her.

Its fucked up Chloe's mother killed her, right? Like, she tried to several times & then did. She murdered her daughter.

Or Juleka manages to basically drag Chloe back to her place where one or both of them open Miraculous, hell, Marinette may not even go with the Bee if she thinks the Horse could get the job done!

There's so many options, but yeah, broad strokes, those are some vibes.

Also like, one one hand Juleka declaring Chloe as her girlfriend and in a protective manner, YES, o the other hand, that means the way they became official will always be when Audrey was tearing Chloe down and not a happier moment, NO!

So yeah, feels!

Also Chloe basically disintegrating cos of her ingrained penchant to listen and obey her loved one's to get them to love her lead to some kind of shut down or disassociation cos she can't please two people at once and like, she is such a fucking mess. Like a figurine made of glass with sharpened edges, cutting, difficult to hold, a work of art and exceptional presentation, but oh so breakable.

Ok fist pf all never apologize or asl for forgiveness when rambling!!!!(at least to me).

Second, I love this!!!!!! All of it!!!!!!!

Got that's such a good moment to actually bevome official!!!(well in a story at least, because loke you said that day won't be a happy memory)

Also I literally adore the second option, the one of chloe wanting to please both and just freezing, not knowing what to do and like taking a step forward and then a step back, like a broken toy or robot.

(And yeah juleka is going to murder audrey, or at least her akuma self, and it is very fucked that aidrey killed chloe)

As for the miraculous, yeah you can do so manu things depending on what ypu want to do or tell!!!!! It's amazing!!!!!! The potential is limitles!!!!

#miraculous ladybug #chloe bourgeois #chloleka #juleka couffaine #ask

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windvexer · 1 year ago

Note

do you have any advice on finding active people on here who aren't wiccan? so far i'm just seeing you and a handful of other big accounts

Tbh I don't really use Tumblr search features, I just hang out on the dashboard with my friends.

Here are some active people from my follow list who I'm pretty sure aren't Wiccan (but I could be wrong):

(I set it to no reblog, let me know if you're tagged and you don't prefer your name on this list)

@serpentandthreads

@stormwaterwitch

@snowy-equinox

@cottageshadowwitch

@cauldron-chatter

@battythewitch

@maddiviner

@will-o-the-witch

@powderandclay

@lailoken

@river-in-the-woods

@lazywitchling

@samwisethewitch

@crazycatsiren

@graveyarddirt / @msgraveyarddirt

@luc3

@zarya-zaryanitsa

@pagan-stitches

@wildwood-faun

@asksecularwitch

@stagkingswife

@elminx

@sewceress

@buddyblanc

@fernthewhimsical

@crimsonsongbird

@christowitch

@friend-crow

@orriculum

@teawiththegods

@pinkiewitchcraft

@afrocentric-divination

@fair-is-foul

@trollkatt

@coinandcandle

@jasper-pagan-witch

@satsuti

@rose-colored-tarot

@nightshade-storms

@teawitch

@mamaangiwine

@liminalwings

@cu-taibhseil

@neon-slime

(I got half way through the list and quit so yeah here you go)

#answered

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the-trans-folk-witch · 4 months ago

Text

The Red Devil Stirs The Boiling Pot: A Red Apple Turns Man Wicked

Autumn is in full swing as I write this. The fresh apples of September have become the yellow and red leaves of October. Soon they will become the woolen blanket of leaves on the cold earth in November.

My devil has shifted as the seasons have. From the Boogey man came the Foul One. The red devil of the west.

The devil wasnt always red. He was traditionally green, black, or blue in Europe. It wasn't until the protestant reformation that he became popularly known as red in the United States and soon the world over. The red devil was commonly depicted as a silly little thing who was quite imp like. He was said to stir the pot metaphorically and physically. As if the souls of the damned were boiling in his cauldron of torture. It was his job to take his staff (wand?) and stir, whip, beat, and prod condemned souls. Just as one stirs, whips, beats, and prods in the kitchen.

His imagery is toted in the west during the fall and he remains somewhat a god of Halloween, the dead, hell on earth, and wicked celebrations of the veil thinning. He is the apple bobber, the bonfire, the hard cider, and the fornication of lovers in this romantic and chilly time. He is the suffering we endure when white girls tout their pumpkin spice lattes. He is the cause of the season. The Great Pumpkin if you will. He is the flame of hell made man and stored within the jack-o-lantern. He is the commander of demons and unruly spirits. He is the butchered face of a gutted pumpkin. His seed is toasted and eaten warm with spices of cinnamon and nutmeg. He beckons the witch to bake poisoned apple cobbler or pumpkin pie filled with urine. He is the altering of foods for blessing or bane. The great chef, the burning man, the roasted imp. The season is fully his as are all who celebrate it. Halloween is truly a demonic holiday.

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rune-writes · 2 months ago

Text

Snowdrops

Fandom: Final Fantasy XVI

Word Count: 8053

Rating: T

Pairing: Clive Rosfield/Jill Warrick

Summary: Jill was a slave of the Iron Kingdom. A girl barely of age who had just awoken to a power larger than herself, she was subjected to cruel treatment as befit a Dominant in Haearann. She'd lost everything: from her home, to her family, and the people she loved. And when she thought she would lose herself too, light called out to her.

Notes: written for Moongazers: A Clive/Jill Fanzine! tw: canon-typical violence, slavery.

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Her carriage jostled from side to side—although, to be more precise, it wasn’t a carriage per se. An iron cage held her, hoisted over a wheeled, wooden platform and pulled by two beasts of burden. The first thing Jill sensed was the heat. It emanated from everywhere around her, as though she had been shoved inside a box of burning hot coal. Sweat beaded her forehead and she could feel the dampness of her clothes. She groaned, quiet, barely above a whisper. Her neck was stiff; cold metal bars bit into her back. As her consciousness slowly rose to the surface, the backs of her eyelids glowed in a dim orange light.

Heavy iron cuffs weighed her collar, wrists, and ankles…

Fetters—

A half-formed thought emerged in her mind, but it was enough to jolt her awake and inform her of where she was now. No— She scrambled, desperately grasping at the retreating darkness. Take me back! Take me back to—

Where?

She couldn’t recall where her mind had been, only that it had been warm, and light. Sunny. Her heart had soared as she rushed across a field of flowers, trying to catch up to…

The carriage jolted to a stop. A low guttural voice ordered her to wake up. She stayed still, pretending to be asleep. Her senses were returning and she could hear distant chatters and murmurs, the clanging of metal on forge; felt the heat of fire.

Feet shifted on both sides of her, and Jill fought against the tremble. She recognized those heavy steps. They approached her, stopped right next to her. Foul breath filled her nostrils.

“I said,” the Commander breathed into her face. His thick Haearanni tongue made her skin crawl, but Jill remained silent. “Wake. Up.”

He yanked open the door and shoved her off the cage, off the platform, until her shoulder banged against the hard, rocky ground and her body skidded several steps away. The force of the Commander’s shove should have pushed her further, but the chain around her neck stopped her short, gagging her. She gasped for breath. Jeers erupted from the soldiers as Jill coughed and reached for her collar.

“That is why you wake up when I tell you to, witch.” The Commander kicked her hand away, then kicked her chest for good measure. Tears welled in her eyes as Jill groaned and wheezed, feeling the fetters tightening around her neck like a noose.

“That is enough.”

When a bone-chilling, familiar voice boomed from across the hall, the chatter immediately died. The fires and forges went still. Jill froze, her coughing ceasing as her eyes whirled then fell on a black robe swishing around bony ankles. Primordial fear gripped her heart and she kicked her feet, pushed her back as far as she could away from this predator of a man; but she had no strength. Her kick was too feeble. Jill cursed herself for the weak whimper slipping out of her lips as Imreann stopped not far from where she lay. Jill averted her gaze, but even then she could feel his repulsive eyes rake through her body. She felt filthy.

“Congratulations, Commander, for your victory in battle,” the Patriarch said.

The army commander bowed at the waist. “You are too kind, Your Excellency. The battle would have been won far quicker if not for the witchling’s impudence.”

“Pray, explain.”

“She refused to prime. We had to make an…example of what it means to disobey us.”

“I see.” Another glance; this time with mild annoyance. She heard the click of a tongue. “I would have thought killing her handmaid,” —Jill outwardly flinched— “had taught her a lesson, but it seems that wasn’t enough. I should’ve kept her alive as a hostage.”

Jill shut her eyes. She didn’t want to imagine what he meant by that.

“Take the fetters off her neck. She can’t breathe like that. Remember, Commander: she is our weapon. I will not have her dying so soon.”

Feet shuffled then rough fingers slipped through her hair and reached around her neck. She felt them brush her raw, sensitive skin before she heard the clink and the metal ring fell off. Jill didn’t dare breathe a sigh of relief, not when the monster was still in front of her. Perhaps he knew what she was thinking, because then Imreann scoffed.

“Take her to her cell,” was all he said before he, along with his entourage, turned on their heels and headed back inside the mountain. The moment he disappeared, activity around the hall resumed. The Commander barked orders at two of the soldiers, who then grabbed Jill on both arms and lifted her to her feet.

“Walk,” one of them said.

As if she could, with her ankles still clasped and chained. Ice pierced her body, but she wasn’t sure whether it came from her magick or the dread of being cooped up far beneath the surface again. But perhaps, that was better than here, better than Imreann, better than outside where her weakness had cost her another child’s life.

***

Some people thought she was a lifeless doll—a puppet, made to move only under the beck and call of her master. They’re not wrong, Jill thought.

In a lonely dark cell, Jill lay, bone-weary, on the cold stone floor. No light dared disturb the darkness here—the farthest glow came from a dim torch nestled into the wall some handful yalms away. Not even sound could perturb the stillness.

Her gray eyes gazed unseeing at her small diamond-shaped pendant clasped in her hand. It had been a gift, or perhaps a memento. When the decision to send her to Rosaria had been made, her father had gone to her room to slip the necklace around her neck. A family heirloom, she was told. To remind her of home.

A faint hum of a melody drifted into her consciousness, along with a remnant of a familiar voice.

What’s that song? Someone had asked. That song you just sang.

On a quiet night, Jill had stood on the balcony of a castle. A boy had been with her, looking at her with stars in his eyes.

This? she’d asked, humming the melody again. The boy had nodded. It’s a song from my hometown. My parents taught it to me.

A memory of bygone days penetrated her mind, drifting aimlessly before it was pulled back into the blanket of obscurity.

It told of Shiva the Ice Queen. They say she would come to her people in their time of need and deliver salvation.

But Shiva had come and no salvation had been delivered. Part of Jill wondered if the legend had been nothing but a bedtime story meant to lull children to sleep. She had certainly fallen asleep to one of Shiva’s tales, dreaming up the Ice Queen and her legion of crystalline armies.

Perhaps even her necklace was a fraud—

Jill stopped herself.

She closed her eyes. Even the utterance of an apology to her father, her mother, her ancestors, took too much energy that she failed to muster. The pulsing warmth she had always sought in her necklace was nowhere to be found. It lay cold in her palm, offering neither solace nor reassurance that everything would be alright.

How could it be when everything had gone up in a blazing inferno three summers past—all her dreams, all her hopes?

She had no one else…

Chill seeped into her skin. Jill barely registered the cold—barely registered the fever that was settling in her bones. Her thin, ragged robe hung in tatters, barely covering her ankles that were covered in blisters and now chained to the wall. Yet still, her chest rumbled as the tune so familiar to her heart fought through her parched throat and dried lips.

I like that song, Clive had said. Will you sing it again?

Her thumb brushed over the dim onyx jewel nestled at the center of her pendant. In the stillness, Jill hummed, though she sounded weak and broken.

***

“There you are!”

Jill looked up. Clive stood at the door, half-turning, the tips of his raven hair painted silver under the moonlight.

For a split second, Jill couldn’t remember where she was or what she had been doing. A faint recollection of heat and pain shot up her arms, but the sensation quickly faded. A headache persisted, but it, too, disappeared after a brief shake of her head.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Clive crouched in front of her. “What’s wrong? You disappeared soon after dinner.”

Jill blinked then gazed around. She was at the Rosalith castle garden, concealed in the shadows of a shrub just outside the castle wall. It wasn’t quite hidden per se. The entire garden was swathed in moonlight that night. The otherwise dark corners were lit by magick-infused torches. If Jill had sought to hide, she could’ve looked for a better place.

“It’s nothing,” she eventually said. She shook her head, though her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Clive’s concern turned into a frown.

“If it’s nothing, then what are you doing here drawing circles on the ground?”

Jill dropped her eyes.

“Tell me.”

The softness in his voice prompted her to speak but when Jill opened her mouth, the words wouldn’t come. So Jill shrugged, then continued drawing circles. He sighed.

Jill didn’t stir when his shadow moved and settled next to her. While distance remained between their shoulders, she could still feel the heat radiating off his body. It calmed her, grounded her.

“Joshua was worried,” Clive began. “You seemed down and then excused yourself early from dinner. Did something happen?”

Jill didn’t say anything, and neither did he. The silence stretched for a while, until Clive spoke:

“The moon’s beautiful tonight.”

Unwittingly, Jill looked up—

—then realized halfway that, again, Clive had managed to coax her out of her shell. She cut a glance at him when she heard his chuckle, finding one corner of his lips tugged into a small smirk. Jill’s own features fought between a frown and a sigh before settling on a little wry smile of her own.

“How do you do that?” she asked.

“Do what?”

Jill remained quiet for a moment. Her gaze flicked from his face back to the circles she’d drawn on the ground. The stick she’d used lay loosely in her grip. She dropped it, then folded her arms around her knees.

“You always know,” she said. “When I’m feeling down. I never say anything, but you always know how to cheer me up…how to make me talk.” She giggled softly. “Like that time you took me to Mann’s Hill.”

“I would take you there again if it would brighten your mood.” She glanced at him, and he smiled, shifting his eyes upward. “Except it’s already night, and Mann’s Hill is nowhere near the castle. It wouldn’t just be Murdoch who would flay us this time.”

That prompted a quiet laugh from her. Clive brightened at the sound. In the periphery of her senses, she sensed him reach for her, stopped, then changed course to her head. His gentle pats felt like a salve that soothed her wounds. Jill’s breath shuddered in contentment.

“Will you tell me what troubles you?”

She pursed her lips and closed her eyes.

An image of a cold, dark cell flashed across her mind. She lay alone, shivering, with chains on her neck and around her blistering ankles. For a fleeting moment, her heart seized. Her throat closed and she struggled to breathe.

“Jill?”

The image dissipated as quickly as it had come. When Jill blinked, she found herself back at the garden with the full moon and a worried Clive sitting next to her. Warmth radiated from her hand, where Clive was holding it, anchoring her to the present.

A dream, she told herself. Or a nightmare. Would he laugh if she told him she was afraid of boogeymen?

“Can I ask you something, Clive?” she asked instead. “Why did you want to become First Shield?”

She knew part of the reason was because of Lady Anabella. The Duchess’s scorn for her firstborn was not a well-kept secret—not that the Duchess had done anything to keep it secret. Everyone knew—from the handmaids to the kitchen hands, the stableboys and even the soldiers. Jill had also been on the receiving end of such contempt on more occasions than one. Perhaps, that was why they were drawn to each other: two children seeking their place in the world.

Yet despite all the derision he received, Clive still aspired to become First Shield—the Phoenix’s protector—and had been training for it throughout all the years Jill had lived there.

She lay her head on her knee, gaze locked at their connected hands. “How did you find the strength to stand when all others expected you to fall?”

Clive stared at her. “Did Mother say something to you again?” he asked, and Jill almost flinched. His hard gaze bored into her. It was one thing, it seemed, for his mother to disregard him, and another when the same thing occurred to Jill. While Jill couldn’t deny that the Duchess Anabella had made more scathing remarks, that wasn’t the reason behind her question, so she shook her head. It took a while before Clive could be convinced.

He let out a frustrating sigh and slumped back against the wall, withdrawing his hand in the process. The absence of his warmth made her skin tingle uncannily in the cool evening air. She curled her fingers and tucked them closer.

“While it is true that I had hoped to earn Mother’s approval,” he said, “the reason why I wanted to become First Shield is simply because I wanted to protect my brother. The Phoenix is our symbol of hope. While Joshua safeguards our people, I shall take my place beside him and shield him from harm. That, at least, is what I hope to achieve. Come what may, I train so that one day I may have the strength to do just that.”

“You’re already strong, Clive,” she said.

Clive scoffed under his breath. “If I seem that way to you,” he said, then paused. A furtive glance at her followed by a sheepish smile and a clearing of his throat before he looked away again. “I think that’s because I have you with me.” He scratched the back of his head. “You’re always there to pull me up and hold my back.”

Jill blinked, stunned.

Before she could comprehend the meaning of his words, Clive had already pushed himself off the ground. He gazed at the star-speckled sky, where the moon hung low and bright.

“When things start to go dark around me, I look to my light to show me the way.” The moon lined his profile in silver, and for a moment, Jill thought he looked ethereal. Then he turned and held out his hand. “So when you find yourself in a similar predicament, Jill, look for your light.”

***

Sharp, piercing whispers penetrated the barriers of Jill’s consciousness, along with a pounding headache that almost jolted her awake. She groaned.

The owners of the voices didn’t seem to hear her. They kept arguing, their frustratingly loud yet hushed voices grating on her ears.

Jill cracked open an eye and found the rim of a crude bowl next to her face. Odd, she thought. Odder still when she spotted a glass and a tray behind it. Her eyes traced the edges of the tray to the gray stone floor, farther still until they rested on what looked like metal bars standing on their side. The word “cell” came to her mind, but her sluggish brain failed to follow it with a meaning. Her thin drenched garment barely kept the chill away. Jill shivered.

Ah…I want to go back.

The thought came unbidden. It made her pause. Back, she asked herself. Back where?

Back there. To him.

Him…who?

The boy. With the blue eyes.

But he’s…

Gone.

A sob tore out of her, except—her body was too weak to let out anything louder than a whimper. So Jill lay on the floor, a crushing weight pressing down on her ribs as she took one deep shuddering breath after another.

Look for your light—

But there was no light. The cell stood dark and dank. Freezing. The only heat came from the guard’s torch, because yes, that was a guard. She was in prison, deep in the bowels of Mount Drustanus, where they housed the cruelest, most wicked of their felons: a Dominant.

Jill’s senses were slowly coming back to her. Fetters bit into her skin and cold stone pressed hard against her bony cheek. She tasted salt. Another odd thing. But her jaws moved; she lapped her lips. They…weren’t as parched as she’d thought. She eyed the bowl. Gruel? Was that…dinner? But who…? No one should’ve entered her cell and placed her dinner inside, let alone feed her.

She lifted her head just in time as the voices finally made sense to her:

“I am telling you that your precious weapon is ill. If you do not treat her and she dies, whose head do you think will roll?”

The torch lit the speakers�� faces just enough that Jill recognized the messy bun, brown smock, and plump features.

“Lady Marleigh…” Jill croaked.

She hadn’t meant to call—she didn’t even realize she had strength to speak—but her voice was heard, and Lady Marleigh gasped. Marleigh turned, eyes brimming, then pushed past the guard and entered the cell. “Oy—” The guard attempted to grab Marleigh’s arm, but Marleigh was too quick on her feet. Her already feeble energy spent, Jill fell to the ground just as Marleigh arrived at her side.

“My lady.” The older woman reached over and pressed a hand to her cheek. Even in the dark, Jill could tell how the lady frowned.

Marleigh reached to her pocket then withdrew a small, thin packet.

“My lady, please drink this. ‘Tis medicine for your fever.”

“Hey—” The guard pushed his way inside the cell then grabbed Marleigh’s arm before she could administer the drug. Big as he was—like all other Haearanni—he easily pulled Marleigh up in one swift motion. Jill watched the medicine spill out of the packet as it fell. Marleigh wailed in agony. “How did you get that medicine?” the guard demanded.

“Let me go, you big brute! That was for my mistress and you made me waste it!”

“Answer! Where did you get the medicine?!”

“If you won’t treat her, then I will—”

He shoved her down. Lady Marleigh’s shoulder connected with the floor with a sickening crack, enough for Jill to fight through her pain and languor and scream—cracked though she sounded—“Lady Marleigh!”

“Thieving rat! Did you steal from the Patriarch’s storage?” The guard spat. He made to reach for Marleigh again, but a command from Jill made him pause. The guard looked over his shoulder.

Jill had propped herself on her arms. Ice surged through her veins—ice that fought and wrestled against the crystal cuffs that kept it at bay. For one split moment, fear washed over the guard’s face as he took a trembling step back. Then the magick abated, and Jill gasped, slumping onto the ground.

The guard barked a hideous laugh. “You have no power here, witchling! Not as long as you wear those fetters.” He might have thought to give her a kick, but whatever power Jill had about to unleash remained in the air, and it was enough to make him reconsider his next move. The guard ended up grunting under his breath, hoisted Marleigh by the arm, and dragged her out kicking and screaming as the lady attempted to return to Jill.

“Shut it, you!” The guard hissed. He closed the cell, clicking the lock into place. “You’d be lucky if I didn’t report to the Patriarch.”

With as much bravado as Lady Marleigh could muster, she looked the guard square in the eye and said, “Try me.”

The guard pushed Marleigh forward. Jill watched them leave along with the light and the heat. Once, Lady Marleigh dared to look behind her shoulder before the guard shoved her forward again. Jill closed her eyes, listening to the patter of their footsteps, growing weaker and weaker, echoing in the empty chamber. Faraway, a door creaked open. A distant bustling cacophony slipped out before the door closed once again, shutting Jill away from the world.

***

Sometimes, when Jill closed her eyes, she would find herself back in Rosaria: the hustle and bustle of early morning preparations, the chatters and laughter in the servants’ quarters, the shouts and warm camaraderie of the barracks. She might not have been born there—she had only been a simple ward—but the Archduke had treated her like a daughter, and everyone—or, most of everyone—had welcomed her in kind.

See, that was what most people probably didn’t know. She remembered light. She remembered kindness.

She remembered the first day she arrived there.

The sun had risen high and the trumpets had blared. The grandest of welcomes if Jill had ever seen one. While the Archduke and his knights had been the most hospitable, being in a strange land all by herself had given Jill nothing short of apprehension, least of all with the Duchess’s disdain following her every step. Savage, she’d called her. Jill had shrunk into herself. She probably would have locked herself in the room designated to be hers if Clive hadn’t come and asked her to play.

‘Play’ might not be the exact word, though for a six year old, being taken on a tour of the castle then playing hide-and-seek with the servants had counted as playing. The handmaid assigned to her had looked so disgruntled as she asked Jill not to disappear like that.

A distant memory surfaced: of a body, broken and spent, tossed in front of her like a limp ragged doll. It left as soon as it came before Jill could make sense of what it was, and then she was back at the castle hall with her handmaid staring down at her. Jill cast her eyes down and shifted on her feet.

“She’s not harmed.” Clive, his hand holding hers, stepped in front of her. “See? She’s alright. I was just taking her out to see the garden and—”

“My lord—” Her handmaid plastered a strained smile, but before she could say anything else, a hand flashed and smacked Clive on the head—lightly. Clive yelped, then whirled around, ready to fight. Only, a glaring Murdoch stood behind them, looking stern, and Clive paled.

“I heard your lordship skipped his lesson,” the general said.

“Murdoch, I—”

General Murdoch dropped his eyes to their linked hands and let a quiet sigh slip through his nose. “I appreciate your lordship’s efforts in welcoming our new guest, but you do have your studies to attend. Or do you not wish to be First Shield any longer?”

It wouldn’t be until a couple years later for Jill to learn the reason Murdoch’s question had provoked Clive so, but back then, she remembered the guilt she had felt for taking much of Clive’s time when he should have been somewhere else. Clive seemed to notice it because then he promised to see her again after his lesson. Perhaps during dinner, or—

“Or you could come to the barracks—”

“Clive,” Murdoch warned. “Barracks are no place for a young lady.”

Clive shut his mouth, then promised again that he would come see her later. Later on, when Jill was safely back in her room and her handmaid was brushing her hair, she apologized for making her worry, and her handmaid told her she had nothing to apologize for.

“I should have expected he would come visit your ladyship. The young master is quite… sociable, if a little unpredictable. Truthfully, I’d feared he might have taken you out to see the town unguarded.” Her handmaid offered a wry smile. She set down the brush and patted Jill’s now-sleek hair. Then she took a step back, hand neatly folded over her lap. Not a speck of dust on her dress or strand of hair out of place, even when it seemed she had turned the castle upside down in search of Jill. “Would you like some refreshments, my lady? I brought you bread, and some fruits.”

But Jill couldn’t think about snacks at the time. Instead, a growing curiosity gnawed at her, so she asked, “What kind of person is the young master?”

Her handmaid blinked, before a smile bloomed across her face. “Aside from the small unpredictability of his actions, he is a sincere and hardworking boy. Kind, and caring, above all else.”

Kind and caring. Surely that was it. Surely that was why, time and again, Jill had felt her heart stir every time he directed his smile at her—the steadfastness of his gaze, his unwavering conviction…

In the first few months since her arrival, he would spend every spare moment he had with her. He kept her company, brought her to all the places within and without the castle grounds—of course, with a healthy entourage keeping watch. He did all that and more until Jill could say with all her heart that Rosalith was home.

If Jill thought about it now, she could remember everything fondly. Like through a rose-tinted glass: the light warmer and the smiles brighter. Walking down the pavement of the castle town with Torgal in her arms, she’d watch merchants holler their wares and a boy her age running down the street, trying to catch his chicken that’d just fled its coop. Men swept the stairs in front of their shops and women tended to their gardens. Once, she heard someone call her name and saw that it was the flower lady from whom she’d bought a bouquet of blooms just the other day.

“Out by yourself, milady?” the flower lady asked. “I see Ada’s not with you today.”

“No, Clive is here—” Jill turned, but her supposed escort was nowhere to be seen. They were older now, so Murdoch had given them leave if they’d wanted to explore the town themselves. Her handmaid, Ada, hadn’t been so relenting, until Clive assured her that Rosalith was probably the safest place in all of Rosaria. No harm should come to them.

“Besides,” he’d added, “I’m pretty good with the sword now.”

Or so he had said. Now the boy had disappeared and part of her wondered if she had gotten lost and not him. She exchanged a glance with Torgal, who only whined quietly and cocked his head to the side in confusion.

The florist giggled. “You two make such a lovely pair. Why, I remember just a few summers ago when the two of you would come to my stall escorted by a guard each. And Lady Ada too, of course. You wouldn’t let go of his hand even when I handed you a flower.”

Jill flushed red, then cleared her throat. “We’re not children anymore. It is not proper for a young lady to hold a young lord’s hand.” She attempted to change the subject—to the snowdrops she had bought the day before. But the florist was still grinning and Jill had to abandon the idea of moving the topic along. As much as it made her giddy to hear that she and Clive looked lovely together, a part of her knew they could never be. Talks had been made to marry her off to another House. Jill had always been just a pawn here. The place she had finally come to call home was never truly where she belonged. Her time here had always been fleeting. She should spend it the best she could with the people she loved.

“Ah, speak of the devil.” The florist’s quiet exclamation broke through Jill’s reveries. Her teasing smile sent a thrill fluttering in Jill’s stomach. “His lordship is here.”

Jill turned in time to see Clive break free from the crowd, looking extremely unsettled as he scanned the street. When his sapphire eyes found her by the flower shop, the lines of his face crumbled in palpable relief. But he kept his posture and strode to her side.

“There you are!” A soft reprimand, though he looked more pleased than angry. “I was looking everywhere for you.”

“You’re the one who disappeared.”

“You should have stuck close to me. Imagine what Murdoch will say if he finds out I actually lost you.”

Torgal, for whatever reason, growled at him. Clive looked surprised; the pup had never shown his fangs at him before. But Torgal quickly lost his irritation when Jill petted his head.

“See?” she said. “Even Torgal said you’re at fault here.” Clive pursed his lips. Jill laughed. “Clive, you said so yourself. We’re still only in the castle town. What could possibly go wrong?”

Except, everything did go wrong.

On the night after Clive, Joshua, and the Archduke had gone to Phoenix Gate, the castle burned.

For the most part, Jill had purged the memories of that night from her mind. In fact, if she were to recall, she would fail to recount every detail that had happened between then and now. All she remembered were the screams and the fire—the flashes of steel—the blood.

And Lady Ada—

The image of a body sprawled on the ground flitted across her eyes. Jill lurched forward and gasped.

Hot, glaring light pierced her eyes almost immediately. Jill had to blink several times before she could see where she was. She looked around, but the sight she beheld made her pause.

She wasn’t in her room, nor was she anywhere near a town. A swath of white flowers blanketing the entire land as far as her eye could see, undulating under a brilliant gilded sky. She shook her head, then shook it again, but the thick impenetrable fog that shrouded her mind refused to lift.

Where was this, she asked herself.

Jill rose to her feet, rather unsteady at first, but soon found her footing on the firm ground. She wore no shoes. Her toes curled on the damp earth. How long had it been since she last felt the touch of soft grass? Jill felt her skin prickle, her body seeming to whisper, Hello, old friend.

Like a response to her greeting, a gentle breeze came to kiss her face. Hello, it said.

A shiver ran up her spine. Jill crouched and held her palm to the little blooms sprouting on the ground. White teardrop-shaped petals hung like pendulums from thin green stalks. She recognized them. She’d seen them before—

Home.

A vanguard of spring, her mother used to say. One that braved the bleakness of winter as it heralded the coming of change. They’d called them snowdrops for the petals that looked like drops of snow. Jill remembered picking them and weaving them into a crown. They rarely grew in Rosaria, so when she’d spotted them in a stall at the market, she had instinctively bought them for herself as another memento of her homeland.

Jill expected the flowers to fade or for her finger to pass through them, except she found them solid and somewhat fragile—soft to the touch, yet real nonetheless. As real as the ground she was standing on or the dress she was wearing.

Yes, it was a dress she wore, not the ragged robe they’d haphazardly thrown on her. A simple white sleeveless gown that fell to her ankles. She had no blisters, no fetters, no lithification. Nothing that bound her.

She was…free.

For the first time in years, Jill felt an all-encompassing giddiness that made her bounce on the balls of her feet. Along with it was a familiar freezing heat that surged from within her, burning every tether, every vein until her chest swelled and magick brimmed just beneath the surface of her skin. And then it burst, showering her in a million tiny crystalline snowflakes that glinted silver in the light.

Jill’s quiet gasp sounded more like an exhalation of the breath she had been holding. The icy crystals landed on her palm and didn’t melt at her touch.

How—

This couldn’t be real. She’d cast magick and yet no stiffness crept up her flesh. She looked at the snowflakes still floating around her. Then she looked at her hands. From the deep well of her power, Jill drew another trail of magick, letting it manifest in a stream of icy fountain from her open palm.

She felt no pain. No petrification.

This place wasn’t real.

A place as beautiful as this, where one could evoke magick without prompting its excruciating rebound effects.

A place very much like a dream.

The thought had just settled in her mind when Jill caught a voice drifting in the wind. Familiar, but not quite so. It sounded deeper, rougher, as though the owner had grown out of his boyish tenor.

Jill turned, and her world stopped.

Clive stood a few yalms away in a loose white shirt and dark pants. For a moment, she couldn’t recognize who he was. His hair was longer, somewhat more unruly than the last time she had seen him; a stubble had grown around his jawline, and he was taller—much taller—with a broader chest and sharper features. Yet those eyes: the same stark blue she had always loved looked at her so kindly.

“Jill,” he called, soft. The edges of his mouth quirked into a familiar easy smile that pulled at her heartstrings.

Before she knew it, the dam she had been holding back for nigh on four years burst. A sob tore out of her in a sky-shattering wail. Jill kicked her feet against the ground, skipped over rocks and undergrowth, and leapt into Clive’s open arms.

And she wept.

Jill wept and wept, one shuddering sob after another. The solid thrum of his heartbeat drummed against her cheek; his breath fanned her ear as he whispered her name again and again.

“You’re alive,” she murmured. He was real. “They told me you died.”

The moment she heard that the two princes were lost in the fire, Jill’s world had turned upside down. She couldn’t believe it—didn’t want to believe it. For a time, she had refused to give in. Clive wouldn’t have wanted her to. He was alive somewhere in the world, biding his time to reclaim his rightful place and set everything right again. But being a prisoner of the Ironbloods put a toll on both her body and mind. The light she had religiously relied on slowly dimmed. When a broken body was tossed in front of her, the light sputtered out.

Jill’s arms tightened around him. Warm leather and sweet cinnamon—his familiar scents washed over her. He was here. He was alive.

If she could only stay—

But then Clive called her name, and his tone carried a sense of foreboding that made a tiny crack form on the surface of her dream. Memories flowed fresh into her mind. She clung onto him, digging her fingers deep into his back and refusing to let go.

He tried again. “Jill.”

Jill shook her head, pressed herself deeper into him. She wanted to disappear; wanted to leave that awful world.

Let me stay, her heart begged. Let me be with you.

But Clive held her shoulders. With one gentle push, he dislodged her from him. He peered into her face, but Jill looked away.

“Jill.” The tenderness in his voice threatened another sob to break free from her. “Jill, your place isn't here.”

“No.”

“Jill—”

“No! Don’t make me go back.” She whirled her eyes at him, found him pained, saw him grimace. “Don’t make me return. Not there. Not to him.”

A muscle twitched along Clive’s jaws.

“They killed her, Clive; right in front of me—Lady Ada…” Her breath hitched. She remembered: the sight of her handmaid’s broken body in the bowels of Mount Drustanus.

Heat coalesced in the large circular hall of the inner chamber. They’d brought Jill in, cuffed and chained. Jill couldn’t have guessed why they’d taken her there, but when she noticed the figure on the altar, her blood had run cold.

Lady Ada had lain motionless on top of the slab of stone beneath the crystal mound. Her clothes had been bloodied and torn; her empty eyes gazed almost unseeing. As Jill approached, she’d sworn she saw a flicker of recognition cross her handmaid’s features. Through her parched, cut lip, Lady Ada had whimpered.

Jill had realized then what they’d been about to do. She screamed; kicked her guard and attempted to run—toward Lady Ada—but the guard yanked her chain and Jill fell back. In one fell swoop, the Patriarch’s blade pierced Lady Ada’s chest. A deafening cry erupted from Jill’s throat.

Should you fail to follow my command, the Patriarch had drawled, such is the fate that awaits every woman and children from Rosaria.

Her breath now shook. She could still see their faces: the children who'd been taken as hostages to make her comply. Their fear was etched in the lines of their faces—their utter horror before the blades slit their throats.

“It would’ve been better had I died with you.” A fervent wish she had never dared to speak aloud, yet it now slipped from between her lips in a whisper so weak, so strained…

Jill’s knees buckled from under her. Clive held her upright; his strong arms the haven she had always remembered them to be. He patted the back of her head—a familiar gentle touch, stroking her hair.

“I have no one else, Clive,” she whimpered. “I have nothing else to live for.”

Silence fell between them, a comfortable sort that enveloped her like how she imagined a parent’s embrace would feel like. The wind picked up. The petals rose and danced around her—idly, intoxicatingly—carrying a sweet scent that brought her back to a time of peace and tranquility.

“Then what about Lady Marleigh?” Clive spoke. “Or the other women and children still trapped under that mountain. Do you not have them?”

“They would be better off if I died.”

“You know that’s not true.” Clive’s voice was stern. Jill dropped her gaze. “Had you died, the torment they go through would have been far greater than whatever they have to endure now. But you’re alive, and you are blessed with the power of Shiva. Do you remember, Jill? When you asked me for my reasons to become the First Shield, do you remember what I said about the Phoenix?”

Jill wished she had forgotten, but the memory was seared into her mind, it was impossible to forget. But she refused to speak it. She didn’t want to make it real—to make her hope in a world where hope had perished in flames. Yet Clive was looking at her so imploringly. He cupped her face and stroked his thumbs across her cheeks.

So she said, “You said it was a symbol of hope, that it gave us the power to safeguard our people.”

“And is that not why Shiva has chosen you? To protect yourself and the women and children in captivity?”

No, she wanted to say, but part of her knew that Clive spoke true. Of all the people in the world, why had the Ice Queen chosen her—in the precise moment when her future and the death of her soul would have been secured? Had she been more pious, she would have thought it was a message from the Gods; and perhaps, that had been her thinking, for a while. But there was only so much a person could endure. The strongest man in the world would break under an endless onslaught of despair.

She looked into his eyes, so bright and alive. Jill reached out and touched his temple, trailing a line down to where his stubble had subtly grown. Real, but not real.

“But you’re not there anymore,” she murmured, even as she felt her heart hardening into resolve. “How am I supposed to look to my light when I can’t find you?”

He chuckled then. He took her fingers and held it between his hands. “Light…doesn’t always have to come from one source.”

A quiet sob escaped her lips. Clive drew her into his arms again.

“You are strong, Jill. You have strength in your heart—unfettered and unseen. If you cannot find that light in yourself, then look for it in the people who believe in you, the way I found mine in you.”

For the briefest of moments, Jill felt the featherlight brush of a kiss on her forehead. She closed her eyes, held onto him, and willed him to stay, but like every dream, she felt him slip and fade. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

I’m always with you, Jill.

A gust of wind tugged at her dress, flapping it around her ankle and pushing Jill off balance. As her feet fell a step forward, she opened her eyes, and found snowdrop petals fluttering on the space where Clive had been.

***

Jill wasn’t quite sure what roused her. It could be the quiet footfalls dragging against the floor that her ears picked. It could be the unfamiliar warmth flickering beside her. As her consciousness returned, Jill found that her hair was damp with sweat, as well as the thin robe that covered her body, and she realized it might as well have been that too.

She groaned, then the shuffling feet fell into silence. An unfamiliar ceiling greeted her eyes when she peeled them open. Stone ceiling, still, but it wasn’t the dark and dank cell that she remembered. A warm brown color, lit by torches set in intervals. A lantern lit the cell on a table beside her. Jill stirred and realized she wasn’t on the floor but on a cot—hard, but covered in bedding still—with a blanket over her and a towel on her forehead.

“She’s awake.”

“Lady Marleigh—”

“Should we inform the Patriarch?”

“Shh!” A voice rose above the whispers. Footsteps approached her and Jill looked to see a familiar figure crouching beside her bed. Lady Marleigh’s features broke into relief, pulled tight by a cut in her lip and a nasty bruise above one eye. “My lady Jill,” she whispered. “How are you feeling?”

“Lady Marleigh…” Jill croaked.

Her throat hurt just to speak. Marleigh reached for a glass and helped Jill to a half-sitting position, bringing the rim of the cup to her parched mouth. Jill downed the water in large gulps. In the periphery of her senses, she heard sighs and a quiet sob which the others shushed.

“Thank you,” she said, settling back onto the bed. “But where are we, Lady Marleigh? What happened? Why are you hurt?”

Marleigh didn’t respond. She only smiled as she took the towel off Jill’s forehead and pressed her hand to Jill’s face. “Your fever’s gone down a bit, but you’re still not fit to be up.” She waved her hand and one of the other women stepped forward. “This is your physicker, my lady. The four of us have been taking turns keeping watch.”

“Keeping watch?”

The physicker—a woman who seemed to be a handful of years younger than Marleigh—grimaced. “The Patriarch did give us leave to tend to you, milady, but we cannot trust those brutes to guard, not when you’ve been out for several days—a week, at the most.”

A week…

Seeing her confusion, the physicker smiled. “Truth be told, I was afraid we couldn’t save you, milady. Thank Great Greagor that you decided to return to us.”

“Hush,” Lady Marleigh hissed, “don’t speak of such nonsense.”

The physicker bowed. “I shall get your meal.” She excused herself and, along with the other two women, stepped out of the cell quietly. They looked right, then left, before heading away.

Jill looked at Marleigh, who was already dipping the towel in a bowl of water and wringing it dry. The older woman dabbed Jill’s face and neck, wiping the grime and the sweat away. “Do you suppose you could take some dinner, my lady?” she asked. She pulled the blanket away and began washing Jill’s arms, one after the other. “If not, we could start from something light. Soup, perhaps?”

“Am I still dreaming?” Jill couldn’t help asking the question. Marleigh’s brown eyes flicked to hers, perplexed. Jill sighed then looked at the ceiling. “I was never allowed such an extravagant meal, Lady Marleigh. Tell me true: did you plead with the Patriarch? Is that why you have a bruise on your face? Did he hit you?”

Lady Marleigh didn’t respond. After finishing with Jill’s arms, she went on to offer Jill a change of clothes—drenched as they were now in her sweat. “A new set of robes has arrived. And don’t worry, I did not swipe them from the laundry.”

Lady Marleigh attempted to laugh, but her joke fell on deaf ears. Jill looked at her, worried and fearful for the kind lady’s action. Marleigh pressed her lips together, and then sighed. She went on to dip the towel in water again, wringing it before dabbing at Jill’s face.

“‘Tis nothing for you to be concerned of, my lady,” she said. “My actions are my own, and if they would see you hale and whole, then there is nothing more I would ask for.”

“Lady Marleigh—”

“I have nothing to lose. My family is dead. I was brought here under the cover of night along with dozens of my people. I thought I would die within the first week if not the first day. But then I saw you, my lady. Terror etched on your face but you refused to back down. You may not know it but a lot of the girls here look up to you.” She smiled at Jill’s apparent astonishment. “Take Ella, for example—the physicker you just met. She was heavily pregnant during the capture and soon lost her child. You soothed her and offered a flower made of paper for the non-existent grave. Beatrice, one of the other girls, once tripped while bringing a meal to the Patriarch’s chambers. She would’ve been beaten to death had you not stepped in and quickly handed her a new tray. She was inconsolable when she heard you’ve fallen ill.”

“There are more stories to share and I would regale you each and every one of them had we the time, but you see, my lady,” Lady Marleigh went on, “you are not alone.”

Jill blinked, felt tears already welling in her eyes, felt her throat already closing. Her breath hitched, and she looked away, burrowed herself deeper into her cot, but there was nowhere she could hide. The blanket was paper thin; it could not cover the quake overtaking her body as a sob slowly broke out of her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She closed her eyes, brought her hands to her face. “I’m sorry, Lady Marleigh.”

She’d wanted to die—had wished to disappear. She’d prayed for it so fervently in the depths of her dream, for death to come quick and silent in the dead of night. And perhaps then, she would be free.

Free…like how she had been in the field of white snowdrops—flowers that now gave her strength the moment she thought of what had transpired there.

Clive was right. Shiva came to her and blessed her with the power to protect these people from harm. Even should she be bait to keep the Patriarch’s attention on her, if that allowed her countrywomen another day to live, then she would do it.

She held out her hand and grasped Lady Marleigh’s fingers. “Help me get up, Lady Marleigh.”

“But, my lady, you’re not yet fit—”

“I shall have the change of clothes, and I shall have what dinner my stomach can tolerate.” Despite the quiver in her voice and the tears streaming down her face, she sounded firm—firmer than she had ever felt before.

She had strength in her, burning and unbridled. If she should sacrifice herself so her people could live, then so be it.

I will find my light.

~ END ~

#clive rosfield #jill warrick #cliji #warfield #ffxvi #final fantasy xvi #final fantasy 16 #ff16 #final fantasy #fanfiction #ff fanfic #ff16 fanfic #zine piece #ff fanzine #ff16 fanzine #cliji zine

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louissatturi · 1 year ago

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Im seeing a lot of qsmp fans want to watch ordem and support the project witch im very happy for

But since ordem is more of a 16/18+ show i decided to do a important thing

ORDEM PARANORMAL TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING LIST

(Everything that heppend along the seasons that could heppen in the one-shot from the "lest" problematic thing for the "most)

• Severe Cursing- cellbit and the cc that participate in ordem have very foul mouths (beamon lol) i know its kinda silly to put in here but i think its necessary since its not everybody that likes cursing or is okay with cursing

• loud screams and loud music

• intense flickering lights in O segredo na ilha

• vomiting scenes

• people drinking

• mentions of teenagers/minors using drugs (weed)

• "positive" wiews on weed on sinais do outro lado

• child neglect

• teenagers torturing and killing each other

• 2 explicit "suicide" scnes (one heppens because of mind control)

• Gross out monsters

• mentions of child abuse (spanking)

• mentions of child torture

• mentions and explicit child death

• animal torture

• explicit animal death

• protagonists torturing and killing

• major character deaths (its commun to at least two protagonists to die)

• school abusing children

• men harassing woman

• genocide and genocide mentions

• explicit torture

• explicit and gorey death

• gore like a LOTE of gore (its descriebed but still very intense)

• one racist?.comment is made against joui but it inst adressed

• teenagers cursing

• demonic pacts

I think there is more but thats what i can remenber (please rb with more tw you think i should add)

#qsmp #ordem paranormal #ordem paranormal quarentena #cellbit

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magicalgirlagency · 1 year ago

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Hello! Do you know any comprehensive list of magical girl webcomics? Or alternatively some that you recommend?

I'm gonna go for the ones that have caught my eye, visually and/or otherwise (in a randomized order). Hope you don't have anything to do, you'll be staying here for a while.

And I might even update it if I see something new!

Cloudy Wondrous, by Kaninchenbau;

Glitter & Guilt, by RockyBloo;

Star Warrior Cosmos Leo, by Sailorpossum;

Magical Warrior Diamond Heart, by Pyon;

Kid Chrysalis: Butterfly Warrior, by Gabriel Joy Reid;

Supersonic Girl, by Sandra Diaz (okay, this one's more superhero-y, but it follows some MG tropes, and therefore still counts!);

Stardust Slammers, by Brian Wolf;

Angel Blue, by LaurenceL;

DolceCubed, by Sunsetfork;

Pretty Heart Bouquet, by E. Hetrick Jackson;

Mistral, by Amy;

The Tale of Crystal Teresa, by RainicornDraws;

God Has Spite, by Isaac;

In Your Dreams, by Kakathain;

Miracle Sakura, by Aurora Dordain;

Heartful Masquerade, by HANNAHP0CALYPSE;

Magical Package - Lilaca, by Tsunyandere;

O Grimório Perdido, by Guibley;

Starhop, by Cuttles;

Defend!!, by Peachieevee;

Business Magical, by Pizza Paper (this one here's a novel rather than a comic, but it can be found within Tapas, so it goes here too!);

Pepper Pixie, by Soffy;

The Amazing Mirna, by TinyBabyGhost;

Sweet Little Resistance, by Peachchild;

The Good, The Bad, & The Magical Girl, by Failmonger;

Star Savior Bunny, by Kendell and Kay;

Starry Eyed, by Mahoupeach;

Eternal Guardian Kanae, by Edea;

Crossed Stars, by Nyxalwitch;

Pretty Witch!, by Max i mystic;

Foul Maiden Inez-chan!, by alchykiller;

Seasons of Avallen, by Gem.i.ni;

Celestial Princess, by Saint Bree;

Magical Girl Academe, by War Bunny;

Pokey! The Unicorn Magical Girl, by CherryRoseum;

A Magical Girl's Guide to Adulting, by Patrick McCabe;

SuperChic: Rosemary!, by CaptainHAHA;

Honey and the Moon, by Meadow;

Brownie & Barebones, by BubbiBrownie;

Lupe Mágica, by RoninYorch;

Magical Girl Grim Reaper, by Kimo_Neko;

Manual Prático da Garota Mágica, by HeitorPC;

Wimp Witch, by C. Cameron (it's even an indie animated series on YouTube and Newgrounds!);

Retired Magical Girls Support Group, by Hairballdraws;

CMYQ~n: Magical Girl Project, by Marikyuun;

High Spirits Neoma, by Oroor0;

Ghostly Tales, by Hey Izzy;

My Boyfriend is a Magical Girl?!, by IMTHEJOHKE;

Lola Magica: My Grandma is a Magical Girl, by SUPRPRETTYGENIUSMIKI;

Modern Magical Girl, by Replaythepun;

Saffron Wave, by Kellerybird;

Magical Girls in College, by Jay-Taku;

Archmage Ascending, by Magicmooshka;

A Magical Girl's Day Off, by Grant Newbold;

How I Loathe Being a Magical Girl, by Nomnomnami (unfortunately, with the end of Smackjeeves, this one has become most likely a Lost Media);

My Life as a Magical Girl, by Vickycreator1;

Magical Girl Institute, by Portia Hightower;

Magical Boy Troubles, by Red_Mend;

MAGICAL GIRLfriend, by Thisisshaetae;

Anomique: Magical Girls Must Die, by Crayaks;

Dame Daffodil, by Sakura-rose12;

Maho Shonen, by Yana & Nat;

Hover Girls, by Geneva Bowers;

Princess Love❤Pon!, by Shauna J. Grant;

Star Rangers: Magical Space Cadet Squad, by Kagura-kun;

Strawberry Seafoam and Vampire Magicka, by Bryan Golden;

SpectraSpell, by Lisa Harald;

Magical Boy Basil, by Fireside Stories;

Kakkikomi Magical Girls, by HachiwareHouse;

Magical Girl Initiative, by Ika;

Eldritch Magical Girls, by Marighoul;

Magical Mom, by Prinnstar;

Magical Boy, by The Kao;

Magikats!, by Eilie Astara;

Magical Printing: Magenta Ink, by Chicinlicin;

Agents of the Realm, by Mildred Louis;

Shattered Starlight, by Nicole Shartrand;

Mahou Josei Chimaka, by KAIJU;

Brujaha, by Acersecomic;

Mahou Shounen FIGHT!, by Scuttlebutt Ink;

Magical Girl Problems? Magical Girl Solutions!, by Veronica Agarwal.

And this is all I have so far. I wish I could tag the bloggers/creators (those who can be found here on this social, anyway), but I believe that I've exceeded the post's limit to do such a thing, lol. Plus, some of them might be even discontinued.

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studying-space-of-annie · 9 months ago

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Some important macbeth quotes!

"Fair is four, and foul is fair" -witches

"The instruments of darkness" -Banquo to the witches

"My dearest partner of greatness" -macbeth to lady macbeth

"Yet I do fear thy nature: it is too full o'th'milk of human kindness" -lady macbeth to macbeth

"Hie thee hither, That I may pour my spirits in thine ear" -lady macbeth to macbeth

"Come, you spirits" -lady macbeth

"Unsex me" -lady macbeth

"Look like th'innocent flower But be the serpent under't" -lady macbeth to macbeth

"Our honoured hostess!" "Fair and noble hostess" -Duncan to lady macbeth

"When you durst do it, then you were a man" -lady macbeth to macbeth

"Is this a dagger I see before me (...) Come, let me clutch thee" -macbeth

"Infirm of purpose!" -lady macbeth to macbeth

"Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No" -macbeth

"O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife!" -macbeth

"Thunder" -stage directions

"A devil more damned in evils to top macbeth" -Macduff

"Malicious, smacking of every sin that has a name" -malcolm regarding macbeth

"But I must also feel it as a man" -Macduff

"Out, damned spot: out, I say!" -lady macbeth

"Those he commands move only in command, Nothing in love" -Angus regarding macbeth

"The Devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon!" -macbeth to servant

"Cure her of that" -macbeth regarding lady macbeth

"Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand" -malcolm to others

"Out, out, brief candle!" -macbeth to (dead) lady macbeth

"Worthy uncle" "right noble son" "Worthy Macduff" -malcolm

#annie yaps #gcse studyblr #studyspo #gcse student #uk education #studyblr #english literature #macbeth #william shakespere #macbeth quotes #revision tips

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xwonderfuldeath · 4 months ago

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.o| Bad Temptation : XXIII |o.

Warnings : Violence, injury, graphic depictions, sex

Please, consider supporting me on Ko-Fi ! ♥

It was much more serious than they had imagined. Taehyung looked at the big seats, where Yoongi had led him and Elyzabeth, indicating that they were going to have to have a big talk with everyone Jungkook was surprised to see his lover, as were Seokjin and Namjoon, who looked at each other without knowing what to say. However, the witch didn't seem surprised by the secret hiding place, in fact she was delighted to be granted access at last. Without waiting, she settled into the small seat just to the right of where Hoseok usually sat. The seat, perfectly sized for her, clearly indicated that it had originally been designed for her. This was all becoming far too strange for Taehyung, who didn't really dare move. None of it made sense. It was too many emotions in one lifetime. Jungkook came over and indicated that he could sit on his lap. He didn't hesitate, finding comfort in his lover's protective arms, which made him shiver softly. He took deep breaths, trying to calm the panic attack that enveloped him, threatening to suffocate him.

“- Can we find out what this charade is?

- It's time to put an end to all this. Don't you think so, Elyzabeth?

- I agree.”

Everyone was surprised. Yoongi and Elyzabeth stared at each other, probably deciding who would speak first. Finally, Yoongi decided and spoke first, settling comfortably on his throne where his stone had ceased all activity, like those of the others.

“- A thousand years ago, a similar situation arose. And we had to deal with it.

- What are you talking about? I'm only two hundred years old.

- You only have two hundred years of memories. No reality.”

Jungkook wrinkled his nose, obviously angry and ready to retaliate, but Taehyung stopped him by gently pressing his fingers against his arm. Rather than lash out at the specter, Jungkook preferred to inhale Taehyung's sweet smell. Everyone remained silent, as if the first person to speak would trigger a cataclysm. Finally, this time, Elyzabeth spoke after carefully weighing her words. Taehyung could calm the vampire down easily, but she didn't want Seokjin or Namjoon to jump down her throat. She wouldn't be able to defend herself in such a situation.

“- Heisukei Damarro is not a real sorcerer. He proclaimed himself a great sorcerer to take power, having absorbed some of Jimin's powers. And those of Taehyung's mother.

- Nonsense! Taehyung is human! We'd know if he wasn't! Vampires can only marry their own race or humans!”

Namjoon slammed his hand down on the table, startling the poor witch, while Yoongi was already preparing to intervene if necessary. Against all odds, Seokjin laid a hand on Namjoon, turning gently to the witch and Yoongi, clearly convinced by their tale. A question was burning his lips, and he couldn't wait to ask it.

“- If all this is true, what happened a thousand years ago, and why don't we remember anything?

- Heisukei Damarro. By stealing Jimin's powers, he also took his unique ability to bend time. Among the most powerful sorcerers, the real Park family practiced neither metamorphosis nor animal creation. Their specialty was traveling or returning in time without leaving a trace.”

Elyzabeth pinched her lower lip and lowered her head, a little ashamed. She'd always known. Their childhood memories, their moments in life, everything had been altered by this foul being. For Elyzabeth, the revelation had come one morning. When she opened her eyes, she realized it was all a lie. All those years spent with Heisukei had been nothing but hot air. He had lied all this time, hoping to steal her divinatory function and thus change her destiny. She shook with rage at the thought, but a warm hand calmed her. Jimin, as surprised as the others to be there, said nothing for the moment and simply took the seat next to Yoongi, where Yoongi had told him to sit. Like everyone else, he found it hard to believe the information that had been revealed to him.

“- Let's assume you're right. What happened a thousand years ago? He stole spells and then what? It takes more than simple sleight of hand to affect beings as powerful as us.

- He also stole the vital essence of a Mystic, taking their life in the process.

- And what was that?

- Your last seat. Angels.”

Angels… Taehyung felt an enormous weight at the mention of this word, as if something were trying to escape from his insides. He bent double, his breath caught, while Jungkook panicked, trying to figure out what it all meant.

If such creatures had existed, there would be records, documents. They were just legends, nothing more. No one had ever proven their existence. Beings so luminous they could light up Hell itself, with divine power. Everyone was at their service. Their laws were nothing but gentleness and compassion. They only wanted a world where everyone loved and helped each other, but they had disappeared centuries after their appearance, leaving only a seat hidden deep in the catacombs. Taehyung felt his head spin. Everything became a blur before Elyzabeth placed her hand against his forehead. The pain evaporated like tiny flakes, and he blinked several times. The white jewel reacted to its owner, glowing so brightly as to blind the assembly. The room, previously gloomy and dark, was transformed into a magnificent mixture of white and black, each crystal regaining its vivid color under the stunned gazes of all.

“- Taehyung didn't become a vampire, because he's the only Mystic capable of such feats. Just like Lily and Miyako, the first and only Mystics never to mix. He's their direct descendant, his blood already mixed with that of vampires and angels.”

Yoongi nodded, as if to confirm everything Elyzabeth had just said. He looked at Jimin. Everyone seemed lost between confusion and reality. Now that the last throne had regained its owner, the whole assembly had to regain its memories too.

They were going to give themselves time to analyze everything and answer all the questions that would be asked, unfiltered. Taehyung was the first to speak, still groggy from everything around him. He moistened his lips in an attempt to speak normally.

“- Heisukei attacked us. He almost killed Jimin, but Granny Park barely saved him… Thus piercing all sense of reality… I… What does a being like Heisukei want?

- Power. Which no one has ever wanted to give him. Lily, your mother, was an incredible woman. She refused to marry him, so he wanted to marry my mother. He couldn't do it either. Born human, he couldn't tolerate it. So he decided to create his own race. If a human like him could become a sorcerer, others could go even further without blood ties. He succeeded in creating hybrid vampires. But also, as you've seen recently, ghouls and zombies.”

Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, glancing at Jimin to see how he was holding up. He was rather pleased that Elyzabeth was telling all, although she was surprised at Taehyung's reaction. He should already have known.

“- The potions we made you drink, which made you sick, should have made you understand.

- You poisoned my husband?!

- We had no choice. For him to understand and get his blood back, his real blood, he had to die! If we hadn't, then Heisukei would have won.”

Silence fell again, the information hitting them like heavy clubs. Finally, to avoid any drama, they took the tacit decision to leave the meeting. Everyone realized the extent of the lies they had been living. But that didn't give them any way of fighting Heisukei, or even of knowing what to do. After all, now that he was mayor, it was going to get complicated. Apart from waiting and keeping a low profile until they found an opening, there was nothing else they could do.

The decision was unanimous, but Taehyung felt his heart tighten in his chest. He'd lived in this house a century before, with Jungkook as his husband. The couple would have some catching up to do, that was for sure.

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #min yoongi #park jimin #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #jung hoseok #bad temptation #yoonmin #taekook #fluff #love #jung hoseok x oc #elyzabeth ivanovich #hoseok x elyzabeth

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roseofithaca · 7 months ago

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The Sacrifice

Quick mini fic inspired by @idiotwithanipad 's HS artwork of her oc Amy and Humphrey's body, ft my oc Silver.

Silver had been drawing sygils with her finger on the door of Room 8 when she'd heard the noise. Focusing her intent being channelled into her digit and then released by visualising a black, sparkling ink leaving the tip of her nail, she called to her gods to enchant the door to ward off that Reform MP prick from returning here again.

The sudden rumbling of chunky boots on the floor nearly ruins her hard work as she struggles to keep her finger straight.

"Hey! Trying to focus on protecting the house from bigots here! Let a witch work!" She barks with irriation before turning to see what wildebeest decided to charge down the hall.

Her tone instantly softens at the sight of her friend and she's no longer bothered at the thought of starting from scratch.

Amy was nearly tripping over her boots as she turned the corner, short breathed and sweat glistening on her forehead.

"Ooh, what's happening? Is Robin chasing us again?!" Asked Silver, already bouncing on her toes.

Amy shook her head, pausing briefly before doing a double take to check behind her.

"No...Not....Robin...." She leant forward to catch her breath, "Humphrey. Body."

"Really?" The witch's surprise came from that whenever they 'played' with Humphrey's body there was little running involved compared to the caveman with a bloodhound nose. It was much easier to hide from the body, given no sense of smell or sight or sound. It was more of a hide and seek, wait till he feels you out, sort of play.

"Yes, really! I dunno what's got into it...him, I mean, but he's like feral, dude! He must be learning how to feel vibrations when I walk or something, he won't let up! I was in the kitchen, ran all the way to the lake, and he still caught up to me!"

"Holy Hera. And what does he want?"

"A hug."

Silver blinked.

"Oh no. The horror. We should totally call the ghost police." She replied in the flattest tone she could.

"It's not funny, Silv!"

"Kinda is." She was struggling to keep in a chuckle; "You're running for your life from your dad giving you a cuddle. Like a two year old. It's adorable."

"Shut up."

Now she laughed. It was only the assurance she knew that she was only one of a rare few people who could get away with winding Amy up without her exploding into a foul mouthed rage that kept her going.

But there was something off, that much Silver could see. The way Amy kept checking over her shoulder and awkwardly padding at her hoodie made it seem like there was a pinch of fear there.

"If you want him to stop, just let him hug you! It's not rocket surgery."

"I know that but....Rocket surgery? What you-?" Amy shook her head, "I can't let him hug me, all right!"

"Why not?"

Amy only had to throw her a look, her right hand rubbing close beneath her armpit.

The witch's mouth formed an 'O'.

"HS?"

"Yep."

"Massive flare up?"

"Yep."

"Humphrey's body has no ears so he can't hear you explain why you don't want cuddles?"

"Got it."

Silver nodded. It was all coming together, just as another pair of footsteps began to beat their way, unsteady, up the staircase.

"Shit, he's coming!" Amy gritted her teeth.

"Okay, chill. I got a plan. Humphrey's head is down at the tennis court with Julian and Captain. Don't get mad - he volunteered." Silver explained; "Maybe if you reach him then he can try to get his body to calm down or you and the boys can try to put him back together. Better than just running."

"That's if I can get there before he squishes me!" Amy grizzles.

"Well that's part two of the plan, gotta do part one first."

"Which is?"

"Trust me. You don't be a devotee of the Goddess Artemis without learning a few tricks about a hunt." She boasted.

A fumble came from down the hall as the Tudor's body came to the top.

Silver stood behind Amy and - carefully - held her arms.

"I got her! She's right here! C'mon Mr Amy's Dad's Body, nice lovely father-daughter cuddle right here!" She called out, tapping her foot and hoping he could feel the tremple.

"Silver! What the shit?!"

Two arms cloaked in red stretched their way forward like Frankenstein's monster towards the two girls.

Silver kept Amy from dodging away.

"Like I said trust me. Just a little closer and..." She waited until Humphrey's body's hands were six feet from grabbing Amy's head; "Switch!"

In a single fluid motion, Silver twirled Amy to behind her where she was stood and moved in front.

Almost immediately she was swallowed up into the arms of the Tudor who at first only felt a short, skinny, female form. Daughter Shaped. Silver was surprised by the strength of the headless being as it crushed her to his front, nearly lifting her off her feet, convinced for a brief moment that it had finally found its prey.

"What the..." Amy whispered.

"I bought you several seconds maybe until he figures out it's not you, now go!" Silver encouraged, her words slightly muffled by thick red cloth against her mouth.

An amused and grateful smile stretched across Amy's face.

"I owe you one, you fucking goddess!" She laughed before running for her life; "Next time tell me about the plan to use me as bait before hand! Thanks!"

"No proble- Oof!" Silver was silenced as the arms held her even tighter, hands feeling over her shirt, probably trying to figure out why "Amy's" hoodie felt so different and her hair shorter.

The body had a big heart but clearly little brain. Silver endured the crushing bear hug, the likes of which she hadn't had as intense since before her second mum had moved on.

Relaxing a little, she thought to herself that it wasn't actually too bad.

#fluff #humor #amy bone #silver ravenstar #bbc ghosts #humphrey bone

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cafffine · 1 year ago

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Thank you to this tiktok for reminding me of the 2018 RSC production of Macbeth in which the three witches were played by little girls in pink pajamas.

{video ID: a tiktok by user @/shakespearedude. It is a production recording of the 2018 RSC production of Shakespeare’s Macbeth. The video is one minute long, and is a section of Act 1, Scene 3.

Banqou, played by Raphael Sowole, and Macbeth, played by Christopher Eccelston, are dressed in modern, mostly black clothing. The three witches are played by three young girls of grade-school age wearing matching pink pajamas. The children each rock a babydoll in their arms as they speak. The stage is dark, sparsely lit, and very foggy.

transcription of lines:

FIRST WITCH: A drum, a drum. Macbeth doth come.

[Enter MACBETH and BANQOU]

MACBETH: So foul and fair a day I have not seen.

BANQUO: How far is't called to Forres?

[The WITCHES emerge from a cloud of fog, advancing on MACBETH]

ALL WITCHES: The weird sisters, hand in hand, Posters of the sea and land, Thus do go about, about, Thrice to thine and thrice to mine, And thrice again to make up nine. Peace, the charm's wound up.

BANQUO: What are these? That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth, And yet are on't? Live you or are you aught That man may question?

MACBETH: Speak, if you can; what are you?

FIRST WITCH: All hail, Macbeth. Hail to thee, Thane of Glamis.

[FIRST WITCH shakes a seated MACBETH's hand]

SECOND WITCH: All hail, Macbeth. Hail to thee,

/video ends}

#also hiiii christopher eccelston #if you saw this live...I don't care. It should have happend to me #shakespeare #macbeth #christopher eccleston #double shot

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dhr-ao3 · 8 months ago

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Years of Your Madness

Years of Your Madness https://ift.tt/lo3ABzn by Shelbetreble91 Told through vingettes over the course of 5 years we follow our Brightest Witch of Her Age... As He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named continues to gain power, Hermione Granger is determined to learn everything she can to protect her friends and family. Hermione is aware that there are mysteries beyond what she's learned in books. Questions that the Golden Trio has in the face of rising evil and strange happenings. This story begins in their 6th year at Hogwarts and follows Hermione as she races to unravel the confusing web of lies, misinformation, and danger before it's too late. And for the love of Merlin, why does Draco Malfoy always seem to ferret his way in to her missions? They aren't even on the same side of this growing conflict... so why does it seem that all the answers she wants involve being forced to tolerate the loathe-some...foul... oh honestly! Disclaimer: I do not own any of the source material used for this alternate ending/alternate universe work of Fanfiction. It is illegal for myself or any other party to ever financially profit from this labor of love. Please report any illegal distribution of my works to this account. This is my first time. ;) Words: 3667, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Luna Lovegood, Ginny Weasley Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Additional Tags: Omegaverse, A/B/O, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, WIP via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/72qCWEB July 18, 2024 at 08:41PM

#IFTTT #Dramione #Draco x Hermione

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chaosprinceundivided · 8 months ago

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The Truth

The Focal Point of Rulek's victory and where the Warp twisted and split:

Her chains rattled in each step, they burned her for her sin of existing as a daughter of the Motherland. The lore that was so interweaved into her being was locked deep within her breast, fists clenching tight in a furious restrain. Even humbled and beaten as she was, Tzarina Katarin Bokha of Kislev was a woman of pride. Her shoulders broad and fallen hair graced her porcine pale face sculpted in a mask of hard disdain. The radiance of white-fire that normally burned her pupils were gone, reveal only an icy pale blue that reflected the hellish forge that sat far beyond the mortal realms.

And she, a meager mortal, was in constant threat of Chaos’ malevolent influence if it wasn’t for the carefully weaved spells placed upon her by her escort. A tall mutant of a snow leopard that dared to dress like one of the Ice Maidens, crowned by burning frost horns. The back of her attire askewed to reveal the mirror-like sheen of her broad shoulders and in the perfectly arranged fur, Katarin could see the faces of men and women...her own soldiers, kindred-in-arm, screaming and begging silently in a prison they could not escape.

A cruel position to put her in and the only thing keeping the Tzarina from attacking the foul beast was mere common sense. The softest hope that she will find a way to escape. A way to end this nightmare, only if she could get-

“Stop it.” A voice said.

That brought Katarin’s thoughts to a halt and her mask cracked oh so slightly in a blink. The felinid flickered its tall ears and glanced back with eyes similar to her own, the lore they both shared having that same effect of power. “Don’t do anything foolish, my Tzarina or the suffering you’ve felt before will not-”

The fact that Katarin could clearly take in the Kislevite accent hurt her so and with bared teeth, she commanded, “Silence, creature. Do not speak to me as if you are apart of my Kislev. It is obvious you abandoned it a long time ago.”

The beast looked at her a moment longer before facing forward. “When you have seen what we have, you would too…”

“Nothing would bring me to such lowly depths, creature. I would rather die.” The Tzarina hissed. “As they all say. As we have said...and what the ones after you will say, Katarin. I am sorry for you.”

“I don’t need nor want your sympathy!”

With a hateful snarl, Katarin lunged and snatched the long short-sword hanging off the mutant sorceress’ hip. The witch-blade whistled with its icy length exposed, boiling of its cold heat. Quick as a whip, her escort glanced down at the Tzarina and smacked her expected lunge before ironclad hands grabbed the smaller woman’s shoulders harshly. Ironically, Katarin snarled and fought like a wild cat with her legs kicking and newfound weapon swinging with nothing but the mad passion of someone who’ve lost everything. No skill. No finesse. Just desperate and sorrowful hate. She didn’t even care who she hitted, all she wanted was to kill.

With a holler, she rammed her shoulder against one of the daemon-charmed Ice Guard, throwing the traitor off her feet and when the other came, Katarin slammed the back of her head into the other’s nose before spiralling to plunge the whole frost blade under armored ribs. The woman gasped, hands immediately grabbing the Tzarin’s wrists and looked down at first.

And when the two met eyes, Katarin looked and saw the glazed look washing away to a painful clarity. “M-My Tzarin…?” The last words to leave those lips before frost glassed those same eyes and whitened the meat under the guardswoman’s skin. Her whole body stiffened to internal freezing. Katarin took a moment, frozen in horror at what she had just done and the condition that her murdered victim was in. Letting go and watching the body fall back.

CRASH!

Shattering like a glass figurine what was once a living, moving person. She has done it countless times against countless enemies, whether of the court or the monsters in the shape of daemons and men beyond Kislev’s bulwark. Katarin has never flinched to the power of her frost nor the state that her enemies had crumbled into, but this – the loss of Kislev, the loss of her people, the torture of their very souls – all manifested into this one moment and Katarin was in a moment of vertigo.

All of her fury became a momentary sickness in her stomach, gagging without anything, and stumbled into the hands of the other recovering guard. A yank of chains and Katarin found herself tripping over a short step, crashing onto the floor with a cry.

No, not a cry but she cried with her long-held emotions. It was a quick moment that she couldn’t hold back, even as the leopardess commanded her slaves to pick her up and drag her onwards through the Forge of Souls, just a walk longer before the great doors opened to reveal a place full of mists. Soul-residue that whispered and shaped sorrowful spirits that swam and gripped to flesh that they no longer possessed, helpless and woe heavy.

“W-why did you bring me here, you monsters?” Katarin’s drying voice questioned, finding no reason to be here. Was it her time now, to be melted of flesh and meat till only her own soul-stuff was left to the nefarious evils of the Ruinous Powers? One of the countless innocent and delusional that were caught in their selfish trap?

“To show you the Truth.” A voice said, great and terrible.

Katarin shivered at hearing it. She knew it too well know, how it tortured her even now and for the first time since her last great defiance to this monster – the Tzarina looked up beyond her fallen black locks at her greatest mistake.

The shape of that massive bat-winged abomination, how it dared to have its vague man-shape if it wasn’t for the twinned tail and bowed legs. From the black shape, there were its glowing gold eyes staring down at her from its alcove. “Of what, that you are nothing but a black-hearted monster? That you were always a treacherous opportunist seeking nothing but power? Were you always a slave to Them?”

Those eyes stared down at her for a long moment and it walked forward. “No…”

The thick mist twisted and reached towards her with ghostly claws, Katarin did not close her eyes. If she was to die, she will make sure she glared into the eyes of her murderer. Instead, a warm hand gently cupped her chin. Fingers curling and thumb over, what should have been a great daemon that once was a man. There was just…

The man.

His strong face was framed by the loose black locks of an otherwise tied back mane, fierce browed and lip crested with a trimmed mustache. His sun-kissed skin had become pale as if he never left the cold hell that she sent him to. Those eyes. Those once dark eyes glow with the same malevolence of a man that went into that evil place and devoured damnation.

“Yuri…”

“Kat…”

Even though she refused it, the Tzarina’s eyes stuck and watered. “Oh, Yuri...you traitor...why you?” She croaked finally. The question that burned her mind over and over since the revelation was given to her by a seer’s letter but she refused to believe that same man could do all of this. The same noble, sweet-hearted man that she knew since they were nothing but simple children caught in the webs of parents’ political games could turn into such a horrific monster. She refused this was nothing but an evil game by the daemons. They killed Yuri. They killed him and wore his name and skin as another weapon against Kislev. Against her but here he was.

“Oh Kat…” He said, cupping her face. For the briefest moment, he allowed himself to feel beyond the constant burning of hatred and spite that became his ichor. “If only you came with me and saw what I saw. The Wastes...is not a place for mortal men but mortal men must come to truly face their worst daemons and become more. Maybe things would be been different, but nothing would have changed the Truth that saw our Motherland suffering.”

With his gentle voice and care, Yuri stood up. The man that slew Ursun, the Bear God himself, stood in his regalia. Tattered cape flowed to the eldritch wind as he turned away. “Release her.” He commanded and the seduced slave obeyed, roughly so and that lack of care was rewarded with Yuri suddenly turning and turning the ice guard into a blown pillar of warp-burned sulfur by nothing but a disgusted flick of his hand.

That same hand scolding of its fell magics, clawed and scales crawled along its fingers and knuckles. His sneer akin to a bear before turning to wave the mist away. “Behold, Katarin! See why our Motherland suffered!”

Katarin squinted, trying to see what this daemon was raving about this 'Truth' and there it was...and her horror and hope fell into the abyss.

There, what was something so great and majestic, was now nothing but a humbled corpse held by slithering barbed chains against jagged rocks like a poor trophy. White fur marred by scars and dried god's blood. Jaws drooped with a blackening tongue...

Ursun, the Great Bear. The God that brought spring was dead. A God was dead.

"N-No...no, no."

"Yes, look at him. Look at our god."

Yuri hissed with so naked loathing as he pointed at the corpse. "I found him long ago. Pitiful. Pathetic. Weak. That is what we hung our very hopes and love for! A god that couldn't stop a daemon whilst we suffered and fought in his image, throwing ourselves as that same evil for all our lives and survive."

Katarin stared with lips opening and closing, unable to conceive what she was seeing as cold tears rolled down her face. "Ursun!"

"Scream his name, Katarin! Scream his name as so many of our kinsmen did! As we froze on that eternal field of ice and fire! As we starve and crawled! As we fought and bled! Scream his name, scream it with me!" Yuri insisted, as mockingly cruel as he was cruelly pained as she, and turned to scream at the corpse,

"URSUN! OUR GOD, OUR SAVIOR FROM THE STORMS!" Yuri screamed with the bellowing wrath of the monster that he became, echoing through the Forge of Souls' cackling mimicries of the aethers that died for Kislev's god. His arms wide as if to embrace the divine cadaver. "WEAKLING BEAR! BLED TO ITS LAST DROP! BE'LAKOR'S CARRION! MY TRIUMPH! MY FREEDOM!"

Yuri spun on Katarin with disgusted eyes crying black ichor. "This is what we wasted our lives and belief on. A corpse that will be martyred like our heroes before. Like your father. Martyred, but even that - I don't think he even deserves that. Don't you think?"

Katarin's mind was spiraling and soul writhing. So many, impossibilities truly made a nightmare's possibility, and she could do nothing but stare up at the thing that was Yuri as he came closer. For the briefest time, he looked like a bear to her. A man-eating, tainted bear prowling closer with unbreaking eyes. So great and terrible.

#n: realms of chaos #devotion: undivided #I found it!#very important lore #lore #rulek lore bits

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