#oc angharad

[wizardlocation]

made a convoluted and messy relationship chart a few days ago ? and i wasn't gunna post it anywhere but i keep thinking abt it so here..... !

[dissectress]

fuck it, troublemaker wife and girldad immortan joe

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #29: Only the Good Die Young

Prompt: thanatopsis (free write) || Master Post || On AO3 (coming in October)

A/N: Sooooo you remember how I was mildly bummed at the end of last year's FFXIV Write because the prompt could not at all fit the idea I had wanted to cap the challenge off with?

This is that idea.

---

The King of Ruin was dead and it should have been a momentous, joyous day.

Instead, as news of Theodoric’s death at the hands of the Resistance spread through Ala Mhigo and its citizens began to raggedly cheer, the clouds had parted above the city, and Garlean airships had begun raining down blue fire. And while the city shook and cheering turned to screams, someone opened the Ghimlyt Gate, and the ranks of the XIVth Legion entered the city.

No matter what the Ala Mhigans did, their city would fall. Five years of the Mad King’s rule had drained Ala Mhigo of her vitality; the Resistance had broken the Corpse Brigade, but they had neither the numbers nor the experience to stand against the Black Wolf. There would be no throwing back the Garlean advance.

But every warrior and mage still capable of fighting could ensure as many people escaped as possible.

And so, Tyr Greywolfe raced through the family manor, doing a final check of each room to ensure no one was left behind.

The last of the servants, including little Synnove’s nanny and the housekeeper, had slipped away a few days ago as the tension preceding the king’s overthrow began to reach its crescendo, fleeing the city should the Resistance fail. But there was always the chance one might have returned to fetch a forgotten belonging, or that someone was trying to seek shelter as ceruleum fell from the sky and destroyed walls and homes and history. Today, at least, every room was empty.

Maybe one day they wouldn’t be.

Tyr flew down the hallways, through the entrance hall, and out of the front doors so fast that his sheathed blades slapped bruises into his thighs even with being safely strapped down. His mother’s gardens were trampled and ruined, but he doubted her ghost would mind; their widower neighbor, Walcher Steelwolfe (cadet branch of a completely unrelated House Wolfe that had long since died out), had brought his chocobo carriage, and he was soothing both frightened birds as Havardr and Father got the women and children into the back. The roar of cannons echoed overhead and the clash of swords came from the east; the Wolf’s Den was one of the neighborhoods closest to the Ghimlyt Gate, and the XIVth was trying to push further in.

“House is clear!” Tyr called out.

His goodsister was carefully moving into the back of the carriage to allow the rest of the family onboard; he saw her clutching a satchel that he knew was full of important documentation, and hoped that Isolde’s foresight wouldn’t be needed in the coming days and sennights. Faramund was lifted up after her, but Father paused briefly to pull his only grandson into a crushing hug. The boy clutched back desperately; he was just old enough to have an inkling that today might be the last time he received such a hug.

Tyr darted across the yard to join his family, heart in his throat. Faramund was now up on the edge of the carriage, but his nephew leaned over and Tyr obligingly pulled him into his own hug.

“Love you, Uncle,” Faramund choked out, voice muffled by his face in Tyr’s leathers and another cannon shot exploding just blocks away.

“Love you, too, Far,” Tyr said, pulling back and ruffling his hair, turning to the others as Faramund followed after his mother.

Eydis was right there, head at his chin, and gods, how quickly she had grown. Nearly eighteen and his spitting image: dark brown skin, deep red hair, hawk’s nose and thin lips. But her eyes were the same green as his mother’s rather than Greywolfe gold and right now, they were filling with tears. Even more than her cousin, Eydis knew.

His daughter, his only child, crashed into him, and Tyr could do nothing except hold her as tight as he could as she sobbed into his neck.

“I love you, Papa,” she said. “Please, please…”

“I love you, Eydis,” he said, hoarse with emotion. “You are the best thing I ever helped put into this world. I will always be proud of you.”

Another sob heaved through her and Tyr pressed a kiss to her temple. After long moments, they drew apart; Eydis’s eyes were red-rimmed and still streaming, but a steely determination had descended upon her.

Tyr wiped the tears off her cheeks and held her face in his hands. And then he helped her up into the carriage.

Little Synnove had already been carefully placed into the carriage bed by her father, but she stared up at him with the same huge green eyes his daughter had. Her favorite plush wolf—sewn for her by his mother—was clutched tightly under her arm, but she reached for him with the other. Tyr gathered her close, gentle as always with her even as he made his hug as fierce as possible. With her nanny gone, Synnove had slept the last few nights with himself and Angharad, tucked safely between them and even joined by Eydis as initial clashes between the Corpse Brigade and the Resistance had echoed through the streets. But his niece had always been one of the bright spots of his life and she had always been frightfully smart; her solemnity now would be unusual on any other five-year old.

“Love you very much, Synnove-cub,” he whispered to her. “Be good for your ma and da and aunt.”

“Love you, Unca Tyr,” she lisped, then drew away to be scooped up into Eydis’s arms.

Angharad was next to him now, and Tyr took a moment to drink in the sight of his wife.

Strong shoulders and straight spine and light steps, trained in Gyr Abanian dance, Angharad was grace personified. Her chestnut hair had a few stray greys hiding at the temples and her dark eyes, normally laughing and bright, regarded him now with resigned grief.

His wife reached for him and Tyr took her hands in his, raising them to his lips to kiss the knuckles of the right, then the left, and then Angharad lunged forward.

Their kiss was messy, and desperate, and tasted faintly of the salt that Angharad had cried earlier but refused to let fall now. Twenty years of passion and love and joys and sorrows and mistakes and triumphs; Tyr tried to put it all into the kiss, arms tight around her waist even as her hands stroked through his hair. When they drew apart at last, they rested their foreheads together and stared into one another’s eyes.

“I will love you long after the stars grow cold,” Tyr said to the love of his life.

“And I will love you even when the memory of stars is gone from creation,” Angharad said thickly, finishing the familiar refrain.

Tyr put his hands on her waist and lifted her up into the carriage bed, as easy as when he had lifted her onto the stage for their first dance at their wedding. Angharad cupped his face in her hands, staring at him with the same solemnity has Synnove had as she memorized him. Then she dropped her hands, and stepped backwards to sit at the back and gather up the girls to her.

Walcher had hopped up into the driver’s seat and just in time—dropships roared overhead, and through the estate gate, Tyr saw a group of Resistance fighters pelt full tilt down the street towards the eastern barricades. Walcher slapped the reins, and the kwehing chocobos dutifully began to draw the carriage across the lawn and through the open gates. Tyr, Havardr, and Father followed after, Havardr just a few steps ahead.

Tyr felt eyes on him, and canted his head to the side. Ivar Greywolfe looked at him, golden eyes worn but determined. He flicked his gaze towards his younger son.

Tyr nodded.

As the carriage cleared the gate, Walcher guiding the chocobos to head west, Havardr began to turn east. That was when Tyr and Father grabbed him by either arm, and hauled him towards the carriage.

“No!” Havardr shouted, loud even over the battle raging down the street and throughout the rest of the city, bucking and struggling against their holds. “No, no, don’t you dare make me leave you behind, don’t you dare—”

Tyr managed to wrestled his brother’s arms behind him even as Father let go to grab either side of Havardr’s head. “Someone has to protect the rest of the family!” he yelled, pitching his voice over the explosion of yet another ceruleum cannon. “That’s your job now, Havardr! You have to keep them safe, for me and for Tyr!”

Havardr sobbed as Father pressed a kiss to his forehead. Tyr let him go, and then he and Father were engulfing his brother into a fierce three-way hug. Havardr clutched at them, hands scrabbling for purchase on their leathers, gasping out, “I love you I love you I’m sorry I love you—”

“Love you, too, brother mine,” Tyr said. And then he and Father picked Havardr up and threw him into the carriage.

“Walcher, GO!” Father roared, turning to bolt down the street to shore up the defensive line at the end of the street. Tyr ran after him, drawing his swords as he did.

One of the mages had brought down one of the buildings to create a barricade, but Garlean reapers had joined the fray and their cannons were making quick, awful work of the stone. Bladedancers clashed with conscripts, swords clanking loudly against shields, knuckledancers wove through the melee to disable enemy combatants, a firedancer was standing atop the rubble to aim her destructive magicks at the backlines of the advancing enemy. Tyr and his father crashed into the Garleans, swords sweeping through their foes and blood flowing. They hadn’t been with the Resistance when they stormed the palace, their job to put down any Corpse Brigade curs should they begin attacking civilians in the city, and thus they were fresh, their stamina still high.

The heavy whirr of machina echoed down the street, and another reaper fired its cannon. The blast partially hit both the downed building and the street, and for a moment, Ala Mhigans and Garleans alike were unbalanced as the force of the blast shook the block. Tyr reached out to stabilize his father, eyes forward, and saw one of the backline officers raise their gunblade—

Tyr Greywolfe never felt the bullet.

[celticrune]

More thoughts on that OC AU post because now I have AUs and characterisation on the brain. Here are my characters in order of easiest to hardest to put in Situations: Keiji: Easiest by far. It's a rare AU where I even really have to think about where to put him. He's a drifter by nature, is easily entertained with violence and sex, and doesn't have some troublesome moral alignment that can limit his options. His only real limit is that he's an absolutely terrible protagonist, by virtue of the above lack of care and lack of moral alignment.

Tanwen: Also easy, but on the opposite axis from Keiji. She's easy not because she's a genre chameleon but because she's such a sunshine that she changes the tone of any world she's put in. She will carve out some small foothold of hope and kindness and she will remind anyone of their heart, because she's a radiant beacon of fervent hope and it's impossible to engage with her without baring something true. But also when I'm not breaking her naivety on the horrors of war any story she's in will inevitably become a romcom and i'm not sorry

Val: As the third former DnD character in the list, Val's still pretty decent troublemaker/adventurer/hero material. I'm also usually fairly sure what tone I want to hit for them and where I want to put them in AUs, but they're in third because the places they can go are fairly limited. While an arc about recovering one's identity and agency can go multiple ways, Val's being as strongly tied into Temperance as a maternal figure makes her an inevitable tagalong. Does mean that any new AU usually means a new way for her to die, which is cathartic.

Althea: Easy to adapt, not always easy to make relevant. Any world can do with a spoiled young woman from an out of touch upper class who just wants to be adored and exercise some small breath of control in her own life. Her trouble comes when there's adventuring afoot, because she's perfectly content to sit in her position of privilege and leave the hard work to other people. Not a good protagonist, but in any setting where she can lounge around and be pretty she's very easy to adapt. Themes of being the least favoured daughter and internalised misogyny are pretty broadly interpretable.

Jay: A man sent from hell to torture me personally. Not impossible to adapt, or even all that hard, but he's much less sculptable than any of the above. Jay is always Jay, no matter how much I try to throw curveballs at him. He's stubborn enough to retain much more of himself across universes than most, and still he refuses to fucking narrate anything. Learn to have a conversation. Be literally anything other than a bear. I beg you.

Angharad: Worst worst worst worst worst. This man both is and occupies one single niche and I refuse to let him be more. He's all my worst arrogance and judgemental snobbishness and he deserves to suffer for it. He can go in any AU where he can have an intellectual superiority complex, and has zero interest in any others.

Bonus round: James Atlas Trick question, James is both the best and worst. It doesn't count as an AU when he's just The Same Guy.

[vancilocs]

20-27 for the rulers fenrir, konoe and angharad

answer me my rulers three

20) If they fight, what's their weapon of choice?

Fenrir has a sword and daggers but honestly he might as well grab you by the hair and slam your head against the nearest hard surface

He doesn't fight, he would break his wrist trying to throw a punch. He throws his spies and soldiers and husband at you instead

She will blast you with magic but has a shortsword for when that's more applicable

22) Fight or Flight? Are they a lover or a fighter?

First instinct is fight but he's more of a lover deep down

Flight, also a lover

Fight instinct, more of a lover, more than Fenrir is

23) Is your OC reliable? Can I call them up at two in the morning if I have a flat tire?

Yeah, he will get up and come change that tire himself, don't mention it

You can call him, he will in turn call someone who can help and when you've received that help he will go back to sleep

She will come and help the best she can, will bring her bestie Zhenya along too

24) Can they play any instruments? If so, what do they play?

Not really, just tapping a beat with his fingers on the table

Can play the shamisen and koto both

Not musically talented

25) Are they the kind of person who can't resist a good song? Can I catch your OC singing to themselves while they do the dishes?

Knows a bunch of drinking songs, but without friends to belt them out with he just hums tunes to himself while doing chores

Listens more than sings, but he knows some traditional songs he will sing when playing music. Has a nice voice

Hums to herself when doing chores, enjoys live music but doesn't sing otherwise

26) What flower do you associate your OC with?

Blackthorn (dark, spiky, Wikipedia symbolism list says fate, protection, hope against adversity, good fortune n difficulty)

Kinmokusei (orange n sweet-smelling, meanings include nobility, truth n first love)

Arborvitae (it's geen n humble, also everlasting friendship, "live for me", "thine till death") and maybe one or two bay leaves (glory, reward of merit, "I change but in death")

27) What's their spirit tamagotchi? Or an animal you associate them with?

He's not smart enough for a corvid so a wolf (scary, family-oriented)

Fox, jay (clever, mischievous, good memory, gossip)

Snake (solitary, looks dangerous but only attacks when stressed, aesthetic)

[galpalaven]

Dragon Age OCs in this picrew!

DA:O -> Kira Cousland | Theodora Tabris | Isra Mahariel

DA:2 -> Kohava Hawke | Angharad

DA:O + DA:I -> Nadia Surana

[m-m-m-myysurana]

A gentle kiss from Elior Surana to Angharad Brosca (my beloved dwarf Jesus) 🙏

Angharad belongs to @rlainarin and is a particular blorbo of mine 😌

[kmnchii]

one of my favorite girls ever; my oc angharad

she's a river nymph who doesnt really remember all that much about where she came from

[wickedsnack]

she's sooooo prettyyyyyyyy

gonna promote lae'zel to a red dragon rider if you know what i mean

[tommycorriander]

My Tarnished OC, Morgan. I'm so normal about him

He likes Morgott (whom he only knows as Margit) a normal amount (lying). More under the cut, they're memes and a bit of rambling but they make me smile sooooo big 😁

This last image is based on the hypothetical idea of Morgan, being someone who's goal is to unite all the races of the Lands Between, attempting (and failing) to convince Mohg's Dynasty to be on board with the liberal 'peace and love' message he's got going on. I don't think he would get very far. (I am aware the dialogue of the Sanguine Noble may not be lore accurate, tis for the funny)

Additionally, if you care to read this far, I have two other Elden Ring OCs, an Omen child named Angharad and an old Tarnished woman named Evelyn. Mayhaps I will post about them as well 🔥

Questions about Morgan, Angharad, and Evelyn are appreciated, I'd also be down to talk about my headcanons and the fanfiction I'm writing about them in the meanwhile.

[achillean-knight]

Nothing fandom-orientated, but I bestow upon yee my character Angharad JKHJSDGDS

I've been having so much bloody fun doing pixel art/sprite work, that I might just do more for my oc story + my undertale ocs HEHEHEHE

[blackbloodedisabel]

atm youre my bestie in law through shep. Tell me about the ocs so i can go feral plsase

omg it's the destination of the second antique train.. hello :))

what has that evil goober been saying about me�� hmm.... anyway. silly mermaid time!

there are 7 main characters of the story which I will represent through their sims:

this is teagan angharad evans. she is the only human character in the whole thing and she's LITERALLY silly. started as an author insert but is slowly getting away from me as she develops. she's very lonely at the start of the story to the point she's losing grip on reality and becoming overly attached to the coast where she lives (it's some weird amalgamation of cornwall/north devon/sw wales, dw about it x) but after she joins the mermaid gang and gets some cool bracelets she's chilling for reals. fun facts she has a crab shell and seaglass collection and she can't plait hair that's why hers is always gross and crusty and tangly

this is anemone valthalisia she's arguably the main main character of the story and also. comically miserable and self pitying. essentially she's just generally insecure about most things especially her weak magic power (there's magic here lol dw about it. you do it by singing) which is not helped by the fact that her childhood best friend is the most powerful magic user in living memory. and just generally better than her at most things especially making friends. we call her ane for short (or mona, if you are her brother). I should also mention that her brother is the king and she is the princess. probably the least useful royal ever and I would know a thing or two about useless royals (🇬🇧) and the whole story is started by her brother telling her she needs to stop staring out of her window at the capital city below and start improving PR especially as the 15 year anniversary of the monster attacks (rename incoming) is coming up. but what's this about monsters. anyway fun fact she has misophonia around scratching noises and she's sapphic as fuck

this is selma lamthi she's anemone's very powerful childhood best friend :) she's what my mother would call eccentric but what I would call silly and also extremely overconfident and lacking common sense/boundaries tbh. perhaps she is in fact what my mother would call autistic. anyway she's very knowledgeable about magic theory especially this one very powerful witch from about 200 years ago (not sure on dates yet) who was called nileao and pioneered the art of making conduit jewellery to increase your magical power. this is what inspired her to make her own magic jewellery which I can't represent using sims but. it's literally just a small murex shell on a long gold chain. she's stubborn and very resilient :) we love her. fun fact she teaches basic magic theory at the magic tuition school that she (& anemone and also io dw abt her yet) went to as a child

this is melyde jalodir she is probably the most disposable character here (tied with enith maybe) but I love her so idgaf. she's ginger so she lacks a soul also she grew up in an orphanage in the kelp forests because her parents died in the monster attacks 15 years ago. she spent most of her childhood working on the kelp farm and developing anger issues, then when she was 16 she moved to the capital city to try her hand at being a street performer since she'd always been told she had a very pretty singing voice. recently someone threw a weird golden locket at her as a tip for her performance and 500 voices came out of her at once when she touched it but I'm sure everything's fine. she's got other stuff to worry about. fun fact she can do minor camoflage and she hates hates hates sea urchins. also her singing voice is based on the singer tiffany's so if you're curious check her out :))

this is enith edrene she's the oldest member of the main group. she comes from a big glass-making town in the deep ocean trench but moved up to the capital city to start a mapmaking and tour guide business. she makes maps. she's very very nice (at the start) and I think shep's og fave. fun fact her haircut is very unfashionable by mermaid standards (sims not doing it justice trust me) but she's using it to make a statement, and she has absolutely zero magic power

this is isther :) she has no last name (that she knows of) and she's I believe shep's fave but I might be wrong. a lot of her character is spoiler stuff but basically. 15 years ago a bunch of really gnarly gross sea monsters emerged from a big, undiscovered cave and started randomly attacking the mer ocean before one escaped and made it to the human coast. this killed melyde's and selma's parents and teagan's older brother. after about two years of slowly decreasing attacks the queen at the time (alsinth, anemone's mother) announced that they had finally subdued the monsters. they sealed the monsters back in the cave and moved on again. what the public didn't know is that the attacks stopped because alsinth and her boyfriend or whatever discovered that the monsters were being controlled by this infant girl called isther. they sealed isther in the cave too (long story) where she stayed for 15 years, never knowing what she was, until the mermaid group (see above) accidentally broke into the cave and found her. she was chilling for a couple weeks until she got upset and accidentally started the monster attacks again whoopsie. then it all spiraled from there. fun fact she's a very slow swimmer (usually has to use her arms which not many mermaids do) and she has a sick metal choker!! haha

this is iolanthe zainilaou (io). unforch she is not one of the main group but she's very very important to the story so I will include her here. she's anemone's thematic foil and the last living descendant of the witch nileao. she too is not very magically powerful but instead of getting insecure like ane does she gets bitter and entitled. but I'm sure she's moved past that haha. currently she spends most of her time in her workshop in outskirts of the capital city making and selling jewellery. fun fact she is kinda evil lol but if I am a fan of shep's kasia then I have to also be a fan of io. also I gave her all her problems so I can't really hold them against her.

anyway that's all the main characters yayy sorry there are so many of them. check out my story tag #bbi maelstrom for more and you can always ask me (or shep I spose) for more info :))

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #11: Maternal Instinct

Prompt: surrogate || Master Post || On AO3

A/N: This one is likely to get a rework or big expansion come my October edits, as I've got Covid and am not operating at full capacity. But I wrote something, and that's what matters!

---

Synnove will never tell a soul, but there have been multiple times in her life where she nearly slipped and called her Aunt Angharad, “Mama.”

It’s not that Auntie didn’t deserve the title; far from it. In every way except blood, Angharad Greywolfe has been her mother.

Ensured she had food in her belly, even during their poorest days in Ul’dah? Auntie.

Comforted her after her nightmares of the Fall of Ala Mhigo, and her grandfather and uncle dying, even as she was still processing her own grief? Auntie.

Snuck her sweets and slices of cake, or made sure dinner included some of her favorite foods, once gil was more plentiful? Auntie.

Sewed Synnove trousers and shirts in which she could run around Ul’dah with Rere and Heron? Auntie.

Fought to get Synnove her own mathematics tutor once Rere’s had mentioned her aptitude for numbers, despite Isolde’s recalcitrance? Auntie.

Encouraged her to apply to the Arcanists’ Guild, celebrated with her upon her acceptance, helped her pack, and saw her off at Vesper Bay?

Hugged her after her screaming row with Isolde and made sure Isolde wouldn’t touch what remained of her things in a fit of pique once Synnove fled for Rere’s for the rest of her autumn break? Auntie.

Always, always, always it was Auntie.

Even in her fuzzy memories of Ala Mhigo, when a nanny had been her primary caretaker, it was always Grandfather, and Uncle Tyr, and Auntie who were the ones showering her with affection.

Aunt Angharad was the model by which Synnove operated when treating her youngest students or the carbuncles, but most especially little Amandina and Roksana. Everything Synnove knew about cooking and baking had been learned at her Auntie’s knee, serving as her obedient kitchen helper before they got into laughing flour fights. And what she had decided she wanted from romance—when the idle thought broke through the never-ending arcanima equations—could all be sourced back to what Auntie had told her of her marriage to Uncle Tyr.

And yet, Synnove hesitated. She was fairly certain Auntie wouldn’t mind, but the small, wary voice at the back of her mind that belonged to the little girl bowed beneath the yoke of her birth mother’s ambitions, always cautioned no. That little voice hissed of the unfairness of being saddled with another small child to raise in the depths of her mourning. Doubted the sincerity of yet one more adult.

Synnove was likely making this far more complicated than it should be. She did, after all, have a terrible habit of doing so. But she still hesitated.

Even though in her heart of hearts that while Isolde Greywolfe was her mother, Angharad Greywolfe was mama.

[cindretwist]

Happy Lesbian Day!

Here's some cutie art of Angharad (my wife's oc) and Reyrie (my oc) <3

[masked-disciple]

*me not walking into a trap* Tell me about Hyacinthe and Iris! :) (genuinely though!)

So the actual chance tumblr would literally murder the quality of this is 50/50, but you should be able to view it in a new tab at proper resolution?? If that's not the case I'll rebagel with them broken-up so tumblr doesn't resize it.

Left to right we've got Iris, Hyacinthe, Katsuhito, and Yumiko! Iris obviously not an OC, the other three are. All of them are shown at roughly nine or ten years of age, although not at once: Iris is about twelve years older than Katsu, and about fourteen-fifteen older than Yumiko.

Under the cut, so I may ramble a bit!

Iris is Klint's daughter, born June 17, 1889. Hyacinthe is Barok's daughter, born February 6 1890. They're not twins, but they'll let you believe they are, because they act like it. They're sisters in every way that matters, and they refer to each other as such, and referring to them as anything else gets you shot.

They didn't meet until Iris was seven and Hyacinthe was six. Iris was living with Fionn, aware that he wasn't her father but not of anything about her blood family. Until one day, she went to look in her bedroom mirror, only to see a girl that wasn't her staring back at her, trees on the other side, as though the girl was looking through a pool of water to Iris.

Hyacinthe van Zieks died July 15 1891, a year and a few months' after her birth. She suffered from Magical Energy Waning Syndrome, the same condition that would have killed her Uncle Moriarty if the van Zieks forest hadn't killed him first. She died in her sleep, peacefully, resting against Barok's chest. Klint took her spirit away, and raised her in his brother's place, refusing to change into human form but doing what he could to be there for her anyway.

Two years and one day after Hyacinthe's death, Barok's life would be shattered again by the death of the woman who he called sister himself: Angharad Gingerson, Beatrice's eldest daughter. But theirs is another story. For now, Iris is seven years old, and the girl who is her dead sister is looking back at her through her mirror.

Hyacinthe knows how to talk: she learned from Beatrice and Osian and Ariadne, the latter of which who will tolerate her but makes no effort to conceal the fact she hates Hyacinthe's guts. She can talk well enough that the two can introduce themselves, and Hyacinthe can explain that they're sisters without disclosing who their family actually is.

The truth is, Hyacinthe doesn't know who her other parent is: she is the daughter of Barok van Zieks the Chainbreaker, for all they call him now the Reaper of the Bailey. She has been raised by a great white wolf of a ghost, who swears to her that she is family, that she will not be alone. She is the sister of Iris Wilson, and she wants to be friends.

They have tea together every day that they can. They talk about their days and brush their hair, they puzzle through inventions and magical theory together. Iris is not the resurrectionist her uncle is, not yet. She can't call the animals of the forest back to life by singing to them. She can't step through the mirror and hold her sister tight.

But she's an inventor, and she'll find a way. Hyacinthe likes reading theory, likes studying, wants to be a part of the hot, fast world her sister lives in. There's no mirrors in the van Zieks estate to watch Barok from, she doesn't know how he's coping with her death. She wants to take her sister's hand and meet him, hold onto the man who must be parent to them both.

They are determined, and they know better than to tell any adult of their relationship to each other, they know better than to admit what sort of magics they're willing to study if it means neither of them ever has to be lonely ever again.

By the time Barok is accused of murdering Inspector Gregson, they've managed it. Iris can pass through the mirror, sit in the ghostly forest of the twilight with her sister and have a tea party. It takes much more work, and much more power, to bring Hyacinthe into the daylight. They manage it anyway, just in time for Barok to be arrested, just in time for a homecoming a decade in the making to be sidelined by tragedy.

Hyacinthe runs in the daylight in the form of a wolf puppy, ribbons tied to the fur by her ears, Iris running beside her. They do not want to split up, but someone needs to tell the Queen, and someone needs to stay by Barok's side.

Iris goes. Hyacinthe stays. Barok recognizes his daughter, as he would in any form she took, and does not let go of her even as he watches the two men he loves more than he knows how to deal with argue over whether or not he will join his daughter in death. At this point, he might have said he no longer cared. At this point, he can see Klint's eyes in his daughter and in Iris and in the great white, ghostly wolf that flanks Kazuma even as Barok watches him fall apart. At this point, he is no longer thinking of what mercy the world could even still grant him, but what he can save before he goes.

After the trial, Susato and Gina are held up at the Old Bailey, being interrogated for their roles in the aftermath. The boys are holding fast to each other, Ryunosuke suggesting a nice pub to get blackout drunk at so that maybe come morning they'll remember how to hold to each other. Yuujin and Fionn are handling the fallout that they can, but they won't be home until late, either.

Klint van Zieks, the great white wolf that has raised Hyacinthe in his brother's stead, who allowed through no choice of his own for someone else to raise his eldest daughter, takes the two girls home, and explains to Iris who he is, and who, thus, she must also be.

It takes the two girls six months to build a life-sized balljoint doll for Hyacinthe to haunt, so she may be as close to alive as a dead girl may get. Mary Shelley's methods are, alas, some years' away from being viable.

Decades later, they can be found in Greece as tenured professors at Saint Shion's University, one as a pioneer of necromagy and artificing, and the other a magical theoretician who studies whatever catches her fancy. They'll argue with everyone and each other, send letters to their younger siblings and occasionally be cajoled into telling the story of Ryunosuke Naruhodo and the Time He Blew Up Iris' Invention Of An Electric Toaster.

They cannot, tragically, be cajoled into playing themselves when The Adventure of Ryunosuke Naruhodo, directed by Katsuhito Naruhodo, hits theatres in late 2000. But they do show up on set a few times for pictures and autographs, despite being over a hundred years old and looking like they're in their early seventies at best.

Hyacinthe, however, can still be cajoled into doing her best impression of Barok, and can pitch a chalice accurately at thirty yards behind her without looking. Because she's Hyacinthe van Zieks and she can do that.

[galpalaven]

babe wake up new picrew just dropped

Top Row

Kira Cousland - Hero of Ferelden

Kohava Hawke - Champion of Kirkwall

Nadia Surana - Herald of Andraste, Hero of the Fifth Blight

Bottom Row

Isra Mahariel - Warden-Commander of Ferelden

Theodora Tabris - Grey Warden of Ferelden

Angharad - Friend of the Champion