#polygon wave

[highsummonermercar]

Code of Perfume - London, 230603

[newhologram]

𝐼𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒶 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂?

[theredhairing40]

[phonographica]

China Crisis - Difficult Shapes And Passive Rhythms Some People Think It's Fun To Entertain (1982)

[hirokin]

ポリゴンウェイヴ - Perfume

[grrl-beetle]

Polygon Window - Surfing on Sine Waves

[iamlisteningto]

Polygon Window’s Surfing On Sine Waves

[retirementtravelguide]

In the angular embrace of the low poly coast, where sands unfold like tessellated dreams, the waves chant secrets in geometric whispers, and the sky wears a cloak of crystalline dusk. Here, the sun fractures into faceted light, painting the sea with enigmatic hues, as shadowy palm trees sway with pixelated grace, casting kaleidoscope silhouettes upon tranquil shores. In this digital twilight, serenity reigns, and every crest and trough tells a polygonal tale, of mysteries whispered between jagged lines, where relaxation's riddle finds its perfect form.

[voyagetv67]

[samurailogic]

Feeling a little bad cause I still don't like anything off Metropulse and also haven't really enjoyed any recent Perfume songs . Not my fault tho, Nakat is the one badly doing bland city popish crap

[newhologram]

ℙ𝕠𝕝𝕪𝕘𝕠𝕟 𝕎𝕒𝕧𝕖 tears flowing brightly down my face

[caelivir]

between me and you, our little secret | suna rintarou

synopsis. rintarou can't keep hiding the fact that he is madly in love with you.

pairing. suna rintarou x fem!reader | wc. 1.3k | genres. secret & established relationship, fluff, down bad and jealous rinnie | warnings. suggestive in the beginning (i got carried away...)

notes. something came over me last night. the entire idea of this made me foam at the mouth. tbh this isn't supposed to be like a fic fic so that's why it's a mess 😭. title definitely did not come from a one direction lyric 👍.

either way hope you enjoy. and happy 300 (+19) followers. love yall.

you and rintarou both agree to be in a secret relationship. your reasoning being that you want to be able to have moments to yourselves without having to deal with the hassle of gossiping peers for now. (or in other words: not having to deal with an interrogation from the miyas).

it's full of sneaking around and hiding away from the prying eyes of your classmates. it's getting texts from him during lunch to meet him at the unused classroom on the third floor after school ends. you'd be waiting patiently, sitting atop one of desks there until he's finally able to slip his way in.

it's you being barely able to get a 'hi' in before rin's crashing his lips onto yours. his forcefulness causes your mouth to fall agape, and he doesn't hesitate to slide his tongue on yours. his hands stroke your thighs before they settle onto one of his favorite parts of your body—your waist. (the reality being he can't choose a singular one. he adores everything about you). your arms drape themselves over his shoulders as the kiss deepens. your mouths move together in perfect harmony, sending waves of heat down to your stomach and ramping up the speed of your heartbeat.

it's seductively messy and hot that you can't help the mewl that escapes your throat. rintarou bites your bottom lip in response before trailing sloppy, open-mouth kisses down your jaw and neck. it doesn't last long because he craves the feeling of your lips against his so rin guides his head back up to get another taste of you. he devours you entirely until your lungs are begging for a breath of air.

it's you having to remind rin that he's going to be late to practice if he doesn't leave now, and he'll whine and groan complaints to you until your insistence forces him to comply, but he doesn't leave immediately, not without stealing another kiss from you.

a secret romance with suna rintarou means being able to have restrain in public or group settings. that's a lie. neither of you are very good at it because your fingers constantly graze each other when you walk side by side when you're with the twins. and if you're feeling brave, you'll wrap your hand around his index and middle fingers for a brief, fleeting moment, but it's enough to make the both of you long for more.

at group dinners, in the chance that rintarou is able to find a way to sit next to you, he'll sneak his hand onto your thigh or hand, tracing anything and everything onto your skin, all while making fun of atsumu from across the table. polygons. misshaped lines. animals. the characters of his name. the characters of yours. hearts. i love you's.

or in class, suna always has his eye on you no matter what you're doing. there's a constant feeling that someone's staring at you, and every single time, it's him. you turn back and give him a beaming grin that makes his heart melt.

one night, when you and rin are cuddling in your bed, you sleepily tell him that you're ready to launch your relationship. you say that he doesn't need to feel pressured by you. you'll wait for him to be ready too, no matter how long it may take.

it's in that moment he's reminded how special, precious, and considerate you are. he decides right there that if you're ready, then he is too. the only problem is how exactly do you launch a relationship? where does he even begin?

he's stuck on it for weeks, and he swears that the longer it takes him, the more he gets tested. because where did that loser from class 3 come from? he's dropped by every single day to talk to you and for a very obvious reason. suna can see the damn hearts swimming in the guy's eyes.

the longer he watches these interactions, the more it pisses him off. what gave him the right to breathe near you? it takes everything in your boyfriend to not approach the guy and tell him to fuck off. you'd probably get upset if he did that so rintarou forces himself to let his jealousy simmer.

it only gets worse after a particularly grueling match. he was worn down. all rin wanted to have see you, have lunch with the team, and go home.

you always come to games to support him and the twins. it's a routine at this point. you'd meet up with them once they got changed and congratulate everyone on their win. atsumu would then beg you to eat with them, and you'd insist that it's fine. rintarou sees right through you. you're always going to agree because it gives you an excuse to be around each other without anyone questioning it.

however, what isn't part of the routine is seeing his opponent flirt with you. it's so obvious that you're not comfortable, and the bastard can't seem to take a hint. the final thread of rin's patience snaps. his jealousy boils over.

he drops his bag and is fuming when he approaches the scene before him. your eyes widen at the sight of your boyfriend because you have never seen him this angry before. he doesn't bother saying anything to the bastard before him. instead, suna wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in to capture your lips in a searing kiss that you reciprocate instantly.

atsumu's gasp is so painfully loud and dramatic that it probably could have been heard around the world, and rintarou continues kissing you regardless. the only reason he stops is because he still feels the presence of his opponent that had the audacity to even try hitting on you.

"you're still here?" suna scorns, raising an eyebrow as he looks the guy up and down.

"what the hell are you-"

"kissing my girlfriend. am i not allowed to kiss my girlfriend anymore?" rin challenges with a tilt of his head.

the guy snaps his gaze to you. "what? you never said you had-"

"i did." you clarify with a dead glare. "i said it multiple times, and you didn't care to listen, asshat."

the guy bites his tongue, red in the face with embarrassment or rage or maybe both, and hustles away. when he's gone, rintarou finally calms down. he looks at you, feeling guilt rise in his stomach.

"sorry." your boyfriend apologizes. "i didn't mean for us to go public like that. i just-"

you laugh. "don't worry about it, love. i was getting fed up too. besides," your lips pull into a teasing smirk. "it was kinda hot. you should get jealous more often."

suna frowns slightly. "i'd rather not."

"tsumu, ya owe me twenty." osamu says apathetically. this effectively snaps you and rin back to the audience you completely forgot you had. every single one of them is gaping at their middle blocker.

"like hell i do!" atsumu protests.

you blink at osamu, jaw falling open slightly. "you made a bet?"

"and?" osamu shoots back as if putting money on your friend's relationship isn't a bizarre thing to do. your boyfriend opts out of saying anything else, and you have to stifle a laugh.

"hey! don't think yer gettin' out of this! ya have some explaining to do!" the blonde twin points an accusing finger at the both of you.

"sure atsumu. sure." rin dismisses the setter as he's finally, finally, able to interlock his fingers with yours for all eyes to see. you squeeze rin's hand as a warm feeling spreads throughout your body. a smile blooms on your pretty face.

never again will suna rintarou ever hide you from the world. he loves you with his entire being, and he'll spend the rest of his life making sure everyone knows it.

[pukefactory]

I was reading through your ENA writings, and I was wondering: Would you do headcanons or stories for a more angsty prompt? I was wondering how ENA might navigate the downs of a relationship. 'Cause like, ENA literally has a part of herself called her "meanie side". She'd definitely say something she regrets at some point. Doesn't help that she probably hasn't had very many relationships of this type.

Could you write some headcanons for what happens if ENA's meanie side says something... well, really mean, and how she navigates the aftermath of driving her partner to tears?

It's fine if not! That definitely seems to be a little outside the general vibe with these. Plus, I even have some ideas of my own for this, too!

(For example, maybe her partner gains a bit of a phobia of her meanie side's voice, so she forcefully tries to change it into her more friendly-sounding salesperson voice, but that's really hard because it seems like her meanie side talks when she's distressed in general, like her PTSD-like response to the vending machine refusing to sell her stuff, or when Froggy calls her when she arrives at the Purge event.)

Sorry, you're making my own creative gears whirl, lol! All that to say, it's cool if you'd rather do more wholesome stuff.

•☽────✧˖°˖ I DON’T KNOW HOW TO LOVE ˖°˖✧────☾•

★ Summary: A Compilation of Headcanons Featuring Salesperson Ena Trying To Make Up To The Reader After Saying Something Hurtful

★ Character(s): Salesperson Ena (Ena: Dream BBQ)

★ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

★ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

☆ The words are out before she even processes them. Ena’s Meanie side, fueled by frustration, sharpens her tongue like a blade, and the moment your face crumples, her geometric form glitches. “Oh… Oh, WAIT.” The red side is already scrambling to take control, but the damage is done. A hard swallow, a glitchy stammer, and her face flickers between a grimace and a forced salesman’s grin. “A-alright, that was a limited-time offer of cruelty—uh, poorly advertised, terrible customer service. I’d like to issue an immediate recall—”

☆ The realization sends her into a spiral. She grips her hat, her polygons jagged, her expression contorting between stiff remorse and an agonized smirk. “No-no-no-no-no, I-I, um—LOOK OVER THERE!” (There’s nothing there.) “Uh, NO NEED TO CRY, HAH, IT WAS A JOKE! …A bad one, really bad, I mean, did you get it? No? Not funny? Oh. Ohhh, geez.” Her hands wave wildly, like trying to physically catch her mistake midair, but all she’s doing is digging the hole deeper.

☆ The Salesperson side desperately tries to salvage the situation, slipping into her usual corporate babble as if she can sell her way out of emotional devastation. “I have an INCREDIBLE deal for you today! A fantastic, once-in-a-lifetime, super-duper-special ‘I’m Sorry’ package! It comes with—uh—regret! Profound self-loathing! A, uh, complete reimbursement of all emotional damages! Act now and receive bonus guilt!” She grips her hat. “That… that didn’t help, did it.”

☆ The Meanie side hunches forward, knees drawn to her chest, voice quieter now, almost trembling. “I—I didn’t mean it like that…” The weight of the moment presses down on her, cracks spiderwebbing along her skin. “I say stupid things. Mean things. I-I don’t even think before I—” She hiccups, trying to contain the mess of static in her chest. “I just wanted to be heard. Not… not this.”

☆ The second you leave, the performance is over. No business chatter, no outbursts—just silence. Ena folds in on herself, static fizzing at her edges. Her polygons warp and distort, a physical manifestation of regret. She hugs herself, claws digging into her polygonal sleeves, whispering, “That was so, so stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” The word repeats until it’s nothing but glitchy noise.

☆ Ena isn’t great at this. She tries every trick in her book—witty remarks, elaborate business metaphors, even writing an entire jingle about how sorry she is (it’s terrible). But when all else fails, she just slumps forward, hands clasped, voice trembling between glitchy laughter and something achingly real. “I really don’t want to lose you. Not over my dumb mouth. Not over me.”

☆ She leaves gifts that make zero sense—a business card that just says “SORRY” in bold letters, a rock painted like a sad face, an actual coupon that reads, “Redeem this for one (1) unfiltered Ena sincerity session.” Eventually, she just shows up, staring, fingers twitching. “So, uh… did you use the coupon yet?” A pause. “I-It’s refundable.”

☆ Eventually, she cracks. Underneath the layers of glitchy bravado, underneath the business-talk deflections, she’s just… scared. “I don’t… I don’t know how to do this right,” she admits, voice warping between pitches. “I don’t know how to be—uh—soft. Or gentle. Or—consistently good. I just—” She wrings her hands. “I never meant to hurt you. But I did. And that—it—it sucks. And I suck. And I wanna—fix it. If—if you let me.”

☆ The Meanie side knows she’s the problem. Always the one who pushes too hard, who says the wrong thing. What if this is the time she can’t fix it? What if she just… loses you? That thought alone is enough to crack her voice into something unsteady, her edges blurred with static. “You… you don’t have to forgive me,” she murmurs. “But I—I really hope you do.”

☆ When you finally—finally—lean into her, still sniffling but not leaving, Ena’s entire form stabilizes. No more warping polygons, no more distortion. Just a deep, shaky exhale. “Okay,” she whispers, almost afraid to move. “Okay. This is still a disaster. But, uh… I think I can work with ‘disaster’ better than ‘gone.’” A small, wobbly grin. “Let’s… let’s fix this together, yeah?”

[gamerbot-22]

Touchstarved LIs and Cuddling

Two posts in two days? On my account? Someone pinch me!

Also half-spawned from @asexual-abomination, because we’ve had this conversation a thousand times.

TW/CWs: Potential Accidental Canon Divergence (this will probs be a warning on ALL my TS stuff until the game’s released), mentions of sleeping together but it’s purely literal and genuinely not a euphemism for sex, hand-waving the touch curse a bit, Ais is an asshole about personal boundaries, Mhin is meant to be read as combatively shy but willing, partially proofread.

Can be read as platonic or romantic! Same as before! Also I’m gonna be making a lot of references to the “No one asked but I found Mortal Kombat’s best cuddler” video by Brian David Gilbert for Polygon because it’s a good vid and you should watch it if you haven’t already!)

(One day I’ll make a custom sparkle banner for the cut, mark my words! Also rqs are open! Likes and reblogs appreciated!)

🕊️ Kuras

Definitely one of the Emotionally Vulnerable & Safe Cuddler types from BDG’s video.

I don’t think. Kuras needs to sleep? At least I don’t remember there being anything in canon to suggest that. But! I think he enjoys the occasional catnap, and can be persuaded to actually sleep with you if you ask him about it.

Like you hit him with the “isn’t a good night’s sleep supposed to be good for you?” and “shouldn’t you be a good example for your patients?” and he gives you a good-natured—if slightly stiff—chuckle as he guides you over to the cot in his office.

The cot’s kinda narrow since it’s only build for the one patient to sit/lay on it, so by default a lot of spooning/honeymoon hugging(? Spooning when you’re facing each other) is happening.

There’s not really a blanket situation happening, but he’s really warm and his hands are eternally soft so it’s just super pleasant.

And after a while he starts to get his wings involved, too. At first it’s only when you’re asleep, but later on, after you learn about his status as a fallen angel, he’s more open about it, even if he gets all shy when you ask.

And there’s something just so peaceful about how he holds you. His hands never wander, and he keeps his voice soft. The first couple times he asks to pet your hair or touch your face, and soon enough it just becomes a rhythm for the two of you. <3

🪄 Leander

This man wants to hold you SO BAD.

Literally will get on his hands and knees if you ask him to. Touchstarved isn’t just the name of the game, babes!

Brags so much about his big bed at the Wet Wick but the man is so clingy you two end up using like. 20% of it.

He’s tryna be all suave, inviting you to come over and lay your head on his chest but on the inside he is screaming.

For the first dozen times he just stays up, watching you snooze or daydream against his chest. Then after a while he starts to doze off before you do.

Definitely the type to tell you bedtime stories. Most of them are just recounting things that have already happened to/around him, but occasionally he does a little embellishing or a bit of improv for flavor.

He’s doing it to keep things interesting and maybe make himself look cooler to you? But he’s keeping it as low energy as possible so you don’t lose any sleep.

🦊 Vere

If Kuras is in the Emotionally Vulnerable and Safe Cuddler corner, Vere is on the fucking polar opposite side.

Definitely makes a big show of it the first time you ask, joking about his rates and the rules (“no kissing and hands off the tail!” shit like that.)

Also gives zero fucks about your comfort. He’s like a tiny dog taking his half of the bed out of the middle and you’re just gonna have to cope for a while.

Buuuuuut… if you talk nice, let him come to you, and show him you just want proximity and nothing else… maybe he’ll warm up.

And the jokes die down, and he gives you room to settle, and eventually he’s curling up right next to you and draping his tail over your legs.

Congrats! The cute fox boy is sharing a bed with you! Beware his flicking ears and squeak-snoring.

The whole process takes a good while, but I think it’s worth it <3

⛩️ Ais

Definitely kinda coy about sharing a sleeping place at first. It’s not Vere levels of mockery—mostly cause he doesn’t mean it the way Vere does—but Ais has a really annoying habit of getting under your skin.

But yeah, after some “arm-twisting,” he’ll let you lay down and get cozy.

He goes right to sleep more often than not, though, even if that’s not what the cuddling is for. Dude just closes his eyes and drops into dreamland like it’s nothing.

He says he’s just resting his eyes but that’s only the case maybe a third of the time.

I think he probably shares his sleeping space with Soulless, which usually means he’s all cramped up, but now that he’s only sharing the bed with one other body he takes the chance to sprawl.

You will end up flat on your back/face with Ais on top of you, it’s just a matter of when it happens.

He’s an asshole about it, too. He makes this big show of how cozy he is and how it’s been supposedly “forever” since he’s got to curl up like this, but if he gets the feeling you’re being serious he’ll get off.

🪡 Mhin

Inside of Mhin are two sleeping wolves.

One of them wants cuddles really bad but is abysmal at asking for them.

The other sleeps flat on their back like a corpse and startles awake at the slightest sound.

If you’re cuddling to pass the time instead of going to sleep Mhin gets all defensive either way. “Sounds like a waste of time when I could either just sleep or do something else” type shit.

You kinda gotta wrastle them into it, especially if they’ve been staying up for prolonged periods. “Rest isn’t sleep but it’s better than nothing.”

They’re not in the habit of initiating any of the cuddling (again, that wolf would sooner die than ask,) but if you “insist” (ask politely) they’ll let you take a crack at it, “if only to get some peace and quiet.”

If they doze off, like I said, they’ll startle awake at any sound so you’re probably not going to get a lot of sleep by proxy. But! You get to hold them and explain away all the noises, which is fun <3

[thisisjustfanfic]

Cleaning up the Timeline

{The past you have lost.}

Read on ao3. Part One.

Tags: Reader/L&DS Men, Romance, Violence

Chapter 20: The Story Erased

Dimensions are funny. They don’t have distinct shapes. Not spheres or ellipses. Their edges are not so easily defined, and as they float in a vacuous void they sometimes align. Intersect. They mingle. Tickling at each other with the edges of the undefined borders.

On the edge of creation itself, dimensions get funnier. More absurd. The timelines written and fates unfold in ways that don’t make sense. Absurd in every way– the words unreadable even to the author. 

It’s in this peripheral timeline that your past lies. Nestled in an indefinable polygonal universe where myths and stories overlap like the plaited upper crust of an apple pie.

The planet of your birthplace is a scorched, war-torn place. The surface is covered in vast towering forests filled with deep, ancient magic and monstrous creatures. Oceans with gluttonous waves that only the very bravest dare to sail lest they be swallowed up by its wrathful gods. Expanding deserts of scorching sand are broken up by wide rivers, giving birth to lush fertile valleys. 

Kingdoms rise and fall. Settlements and villages claim to be under the protection of kings are flattened and raided by insurgent clans. All vying for control of the planet. Powerful people willing to destroy the land beneath their feet, and then lose the people who would serve them if it means they get to sit on the throne. 

Zayne has been fleeing this war his whole life. Running from the call of the deity he is blood-bound to serve. Only through magic and arcane arts has he found some semblance of sanctuary. Through years of hard work and isolation, he’s carved out a place, safe from the plundering, the fighting, the brutality. 

A large hollow on the inside of a mountain. A cavernous space with only two entrances– one that is shadowed and hidden by an illusion deep within a darkened forest. And the other, only escapable through miles and miles of tunnels that leads out on the other side to a desert.

There are little vents, barely the size of a goat that leads up to the surface, letting beams of light in. Well-placed crystals reflect that light to bounce around and illuminate the vast cavern. 

There are pools along the southern side of the cavern for water, and enough exposed soil to have a garden. Zayne intends to spend the rest of his life hiding here. He uses magic to build himself a house. A single room cottage is just enough for him. That’s all he needs. He has to remind himself at least once a day. This is all he needs. 

But there’s some thread woven in the fabric of his soul that seeks to help others. He’s strong. He’s capable. The power he wields could save lives, and this haven he’s found could keep them safe for generations. 

So, he begins to plan. He carves runes into walls of the cavern, plies them with magic to make this place undetectable. To make it firm. Unmoveable. Unfindable. He uses the gift of foresight that he had thought lost to him to find his first group to save. 

Master of Fate. Foreseer. They call him names of fables and legends. A man who comes at the perfect time and brings them to his sanctuary. His little house is paired with others. His cavern becomes a settlement, and the plain folk work to make this place safe from the world outside. 

You stumble into his sanctuary one cold winter day, wrapped in a thin cloak and shoeless. You are with a small group of refugees, uprooted by a recent series of razes by a group of barbarians. Your village has been destroyed, and any family that you may have had is long gone. 

Zayne greets your group as he does all of them. Informs you of how things work in this place, and how to best put their skills to use. You don’t even look at him, shivering beneath the ochre colored threadbare cloak. He sees your shivering shoulders, your bare nearly frostbitten toes and something twists in his chest. 

He reaches out to you, offers to help you. He wraps your feet in bandages and speaks gently to you. He tells you that he can find you some shoes, and come spring, there will be enough hides to make some new ones. 

When you finally meet his eyes, Zayne feels his fate settle into place. Sealed with hot wax and pressed with the imprint of your fingerprint.

He doesn’t indulge in the desire to be close to you, no matter how much it may nag at home. However, you are not one to deny yourself, and you follow him. You follow him around like a kitten, padding behind him on your misfitting shoes one of the other women gave to you. 

You help him with his chores. You mimic the movements of his hands when he reinforces the magic that protects this place. You ask him what the symbols in the books mean, and he realizes you’re illiterate. 

Zayne resigns himself to his fate. His fate that results with the two of you sitting up late into the night, his little cottage illuminated with a single tallow candle and a small fire in the heart. He shows you the symbols you were so curious about, and gives you passages to practice until you’re reading with ease. 

Next comes the magic. The runes that he writes are an unnameable language, and they’re impossible to understand for someone without the gift of magic. You don’t understand it, but the runes still light up for you. It’s like watching someone pick up an instrument they’ve never touched before and play. It’s sloppy, but it works. The music you play when you write the runes doesn’t have to make sense to you, but the intention remains. And it’s strong. 

Unwittingly, you become secondary to Zayne. When you walk along the paths of the settlement, people associate you with him. They respect you, they adore you. They thank you for helping and offer you things like a deity receiving offerings.You deny them all, happy to help. 

It’s a sign of peace, when children get into mischief. Stories and rumors that spread through little lips to little ears mean they feel safe enough to make up nonsense. 

The story of one of the pools being haunted reaches your ears, and you tell Zayne the outlandish tale some of the children bestowed to you. That a shadow lives in the heart shaped pool at the very edge of the cavern. It pulled one of the teenagers into the depths when they’d started throwing rocks at it, and they have a bite mark on their leg from it!

Zayne gives you a disbelieving look before he turns his attention back to the mortar and pestle. Grinding beetle thoraxes into a mush to add to a poultice he’s been working on. He makes a comment that children can be creative and returns to his work. 

A few weeks later and more stories of the heart shaped pool, and your curiosity finally gets the better of you. You go to the pool, expecting a large fish or even a trapped seal– so you bring some dried fish with you. 

There is indeed a shadow in the pool. Swirling around in its inky depths, barely illuminated by a refracted beam from a crystal nearby. This is one of those that goes unfathomably deep, and you see the long, serpentine shadow spin around the limited space. 

You keep a few feet away from the edge and toss a dried fish onto the water’s surface. The desiccated carcass of the mackerel floats and sends tiny ripples across the crystal surface. You sit down onto your knees and wait, watching it float lazily until thwip! Faster than lightning the fish is snatched and the surface of the water is barely disturbed. 

With glee in your heart, you toss another. And watch as that one is snatched too. When you throw the third, it’s snatched but then tossed back at you. Hitting you squarely in the face with a wet, fishy slap.

Aghast, you stand and go to the edge of the water, and that is where you meet Rafayel. 

He’s an agitated thing. Hissing at you that you and the rest of your lot should be bowing to him. That he is the god of the tides and the swells!

You note that he’s in a little pool, and so he’s not the god of much right now. He splashes you with a wave that nearly knocks you off your feet and disappears beneath the water. 

You return to Zayne soaking wet, and you see the dark haired man laughing at you with his eyes. 

It takes you another month to convince the god of the tides to speak to you again. More mackerel is offered as well as some berries you’d found while out in the forest recently. The summer had made them fat and sweet, and Rafayel devoured them ravenously. 

You go to the pool once a day, in the evenings before bed. And eventually, Rafayel is there to meet you. Resting on the edge of the pool with his head on his crossed arms. He pesters you constantly, teasing you for dressing too plainly and for the lack of berries when you don’t bring any. 

He talks of his kingdom. A wondrous, luminous civilization at the bottom of the ocean untouched by the wars and desolation above for centuries. Only recently as the pollution begun to reach their waters, and Rafayel had set out to find its source. To recon and return. However, he got stuck. A leviathan chased him to these pools and in the battle that hollowed out this cavern decades ago, it sealed him inside. 

You don’t know if you believe his tale, because it would mean Rafayel has been here far longer than Zayne. That this sanctuary was carved by happenstance in a battle of deities. What an outlandish fable!

Late in the summer, when the heat has reached its peak, a band of armed soldiers comes rushing into your sanctuary. Some of the plain folk panic, because they recognize the colors of their cloaks and the sigils on their golden armor. 

Zayne intervenes, and the soldiers fall at his feet to beg for sanctuary. They have defected from their king and seek only peace. Peace, and aid for the one they carry on a rudimentary stretcher.

The man lies unconscious, heavily bleeding and his wounds poorly tended to. The sight of his ashen pallor makes your stomach twist, and you’re promising aid before Zayne can stop you. 

The Prince of Philos. That’s what the people whisper as you lead the knights and their unconscious ward to a tent. The others who usually tend to the wounded refuse to help you. They refuse to help him. The young man who’s the heir to the throne of a kingdom so hell bent on owning this planet that they’d sooner see it destroyed than in someone else’s hands. 

But a man shouldn’t suffer for the sins of his father, that’s what you tell yourself at least. You’re not a healer by any means, but Zayne has books and you’ve seen enough of war to know how to clean a wound. How to sew up separated flesh. How to wrap it tight, but not too tight. You know what infection smells like and how hot a body can get before it dies. 

Xavier is tough, and you learn his name when he wakes up on the third day. It’s a brief moment of clarity and he thinks he’s dead for the majority of it. In whisper-soft tones, he asks if you’re an angel, and you laugh and tell him no. 

It’s five days of tending to Xavier before Rafayel can’t take it anymore, and shows up at your door with a furrowed brow and human legs and demands to know where you’ve been. 

Overcoming the shock of his altered form is one thing, but he’s also very very naked. He scoffs at you when you try to cover him with a blanket, but eventually you're able to get to cover himself with one of your old cloaks. He wraps it around his waist and ties it, like it’s a favor he’s doing for you and not basic modesty. 

Rafayel is not pleased that you’ve been neglecting your daily visits to play sick nurse. He’s very nonchalant about the sorry state of the prince, nudging him with his foot and scoffing at him. He tells you it’s a waste of time, and that you’d have a much better time if you spent it with him. 

You make your disdain for such talk plain. Telling this so-called god that if he has no care in his heart for the wounded then he should return to his pools and stay there. You have no interest in spending time with such callous people. 

Rafayel huffs and leaves your tent, but he’s back in less than an hour. He plops himself down next to you, giving you the silent treatment for the remainder of the afternoon but sighing heavily. 

Eventually he starts to help you, bringing in washbasins of water to clean Xavier’s wounds, and even helping you apply some poultices and bandages. Even though he complains about it, Rafayel’s work is perfect and gentle. He whines about helping clean Xavier’s hair, but still holds the prince’s head with a cradling touch. 

Zayne visits often, and has to, on multiple occasions bring you to bed to prevent you from sleeping on the floor of the healing tent. He carries you some nights, and other nights Rafayel does. 

It’s not clear when Zayne’s house because your house too, and foggier still when it became Rafayels. The sea god returns to his pool often, but many nights he can be found next to you– claiming a necessity for body heat even in the midst of summer. 

It’s a full month before Xavier is lucid, and you’re not sure how to interact with him when he’s awake. He’s a quiet man. Soft-spoken but not docile in the slightest. He takes what you’ve done for him very seriously, and when he’s able to get out of bed, the first thing he does is kneel before you. 

There’s sweat on his brow from the pain of such movement, but determination set in his cerulean eyes. Then and there he swears his life to yours. Your sword. Your shield. His life is your, for you have spared him and brought him back from the brink of oblivion. 

It’s a lot to absorb. Being at the central point of such dedication makes you a little dizzy, and you try to deny him at first, but what’s done is done. The oath has been made. The exchange signed in blood. He is yours– now, and forever. 

The armored soldiers that had brought Xavier into the sanctuary have incorporated into the settlement well. They have joined in hunts for meat and game, and take turns in shifts guarding the entrance.When they hear Xavier has risen, they rush to his side. 

Xavier promptly informs them that their fealty now lies with you. You are their master, and it is up to you to decide what to do with them. Xavier is no longer a prince. No longer their liege. He is just a man– and he smiles softly like a man with sudden airy freedom when he says those words. 

After talking with Zayne, he appoints them to the rotation of guard and hunters. Letting them decide where they are most comfortable. This is a sanctuary– people should be free to do as they wish. Though, when Zayne tries to suggest Xavier join the watch or the patrols, the fair haired man informs the Foreseer that he will remain at your side. The others can protect the sanctuary, and he will protect you. 

Zayne consents to your new sworn shield, a part of his heart soothed by the idea that you have protection when he’s not there. For so long, it had just been the two of you. From dawn til dusk you were by his side, but it is as he feared. You are radiant. And all who come into contact cannot help but be drawn to your light. He was bound to have to share eventually. 

But you always return to him. At the end of the day it is his house you come back to. New rooms have been added on, and there is more space than there once was, but you always find him. Share meals with him. Share stories of the friends you’ve made and the antics the sea god and prince get into. 

Xavier and Rafayel pose issues for the sanctuary, in Zayne’s mind. They are powerful, and their loyalty is to you. There is nothing to guarantee that they would come to the sanctuary’s aid if it came under attack. This unsettles him slightly, wondering if– should the sanctuary somehow pose a risk to your life, what actions would your new companions take? 

It takes almost a year before Zayne opens up to the others. Before he offers to break bread with them and offers them more than a few words of conversation. Xavier is strikingly intelligent, and they share an affinity for the written word. Xavier’s knowledge of politics aids in Zayne’s management of the sanctuary, and, eventually, Zayne calls Xavier his friend– and not just your guard. 

Rafayel takes offense at the rudimentary way the sanctuary has been set up. No thought at all to the aesthetic or design of it all. When Zayne informs him of its utilitarian nature, the sea deity scoffs and says that it is fine. He is here now and can make this place as lovely as it deserves to be. 

Time and care is put into this place by all of them. Altered in ways like a signature, molded around their overlapping desire to keep this place hidden, safe, and self-sufficient. 

Men of great power seem incapable of leaving no trace. Something indelible in the way they walk. Footsteps branded into the earth leaving behind folklore and fable. Tales of heroism and danger to both teach and delight the young and the old. 

It is another story. A rumor. That brings the fourth of your lovers to your side. Like the whispers of Rafayel’s pool that drew you to him in the first place, another round of hushed stories told by the youth is spread. 

This time, the children whisper of the tunnel– the gully, as the plain folk name it. Carved once by a long winding river that cut through this place but has long since dried. It runs for miles and miles beneath this mountain and beyond, leading to the desert.

They say that there is a beast in there. Lying in wait in the darkness, waiting for the unfortunate day that the sanctuary is breached and the people try to escape. Maw opened and waiting for the people to run inside and swallow them whole. 

When you hear one of the older teenagers spooking the young ones with this far off tale, you interrupt them. Telling them no such beast exists, and that there is nothing in the gully. Nothing but darkness. They should be ashamed of scaring the children like that, and you promptly send them to the shallow pools to do laundry as punishment. 

Though, you hear it again. The group who tends to the gardens speak of rumblings. Vibrations beneath their very feet when they grow close to the gulley’s entrance. Could it be? The hydra come back once more? Waiting until it is strong enough to devour the lot of them?

You ask Rafayel, and he laughs at you. That hydra is long dead. Each and every head severed and rotted beneath the soil, giving nutrition to the very food you eat now.

Curiosity gets the better of you once again, and you venture to the mouth of the gully. It’s hard to find a time when you’re not being followed by Xavier or Rafayel– or both, but the very wee hours of the morning you have some time. 

Standing at the mouth of the gulley, you feel the vibrations beneath your feet. Not large, barely discernible, but there. The softest of rumblings and it’s rhythmic– like breathing. 

You come back the next morning, and it’s still there. Though sometimes, it gets stronger. Like something taking in a large inhale and exhaling. Snoring, maybe. Whatever it is, it’s large. Large enough to make the very earth around you tremble with its sleepy breath. 

You voice your concerns to Zayne. Something is in the gully, you tell him. Something big. Zayne gives you a look and laughs softly, telling you not to believe the excited tales of children. 

It’s nearly autumn, and there are herds of animals that traverse the forest. Grand hunts are planned with every capable hand being forced to attend. The sanctuary cannot waste this opportunity for a feast of game. The meat alone is undeniably precious, but the pelts. The bones. Every part of the animal is needed to get through another winter comfortably. 

So, you wait until the men have gone. They’ve brandished their bows and their arrows and set out. Xavier leaves you with his blade, and Rafayel with a scale. Telling you not to be foolish and that they will be gone for only a week. Zayne goes too, relying on you to keep the magic in place in his stead. A large honor and a show of his respect and trust in your abilities. 

The gulley is pitch black. There is no light reflected past the first ten feet, and so you wield an orb of starlight in your palm. A simple spell that Zayne taught you and Xavier helped you perfect. But it’s like the gulley swallows it, the light only emanating barely past your body. 

You call out softly, Hello? You whisper to the darkness and the darkness replies. A low, rumbling growl of warning. It rattles the walls around you, pebbles from disrupted earth falling from the ceiling. 

You press on, because you must. And you come up on a fiend. A beast of ebony and crimson. Resting curled like a cat, with its tail around its armored back. Thick as a soldier’s shield and sharper than any steel. A dragon lifts its head and bares its teeth at you, and the heat of its breath hits you like a flame. 

In your utter terror, the light in your palm vanishes, sending you both into the darkness.

By the time you scramble to conjure another, there is a man in place of the best. No longer sitting curled as wide as the gulley can hold, but mountainous tall. His claws reach out and grab your face and dig into your face, he demands to know why you intrude on his domain.

Foolishly, you reply that you didn’t. That this place is part of the sanctuary where you live. The dragon is amused by your terror and lets you go, telling you to turn away and to not come back. He disappears into the darkness, and you run for your life back the way you came. 

There’s a week until Zayne and the others return, a dragon could decimate this place. Rain fire and destruction like rain from above and leave nothing but rubble for them to return to. You have to do something. Appease the dragon and beg for him to spare your sanctuary. 

So, you steal the remaining dried meat from Zayne’s stores and pack it into a bag. You recall stories of dragons liking shiny things, and you pack another bag of crystals from the collection you’ve created over the years. The prettiest and most colorful born from the cracks of the cavern. 

When you return to the dragon, his laugh is dark and deadly. He asks you whether you long for death or simply too stupid to know when it stands before you. 

You throw the bags at his feet and fall to your knees, begging him to spare your sanctuary. You didn’t mean to disturb his sleep, and you’ll do anything for him to leave the sanctuary alone. 

The dragon seems neither impressed nor moved by your display of groveling. He calls you pathetic, but takes your offerings anyway. He tells you that a fiend is not satisfied by one meager sacrifice. To satiate a beast, you must feed it often and plenty. 

You ask what he wants, beg him to name a price. He laughs at you, and tells you to try again tomorrow. He wants to see what you come up with. 

The rest of that week, you go everyday to the dragon’s lair. Bringing him trinkets and things you can scrounge up that he might like. You bring him more food– fresh berries and baked tarts. You bring him a blanket you stitched, embroidered using thread Zayne had given to you. You bring him more crystals that you fashion into a bracelet for him, the way Rafayel taught you to keep the gems from falling.

The day before the others are set to return, you’re shaking with anxiety. Zayne could possibly reason with the dragon, but Rafayel will certainly try to fight him. Xavier too, if need be. 

Only blood and death awaits if you do nothing. So you do something you haven’t done since coming to the sanctuary, you arm yourself. You tae Xavier’s lightblade and some dusty armor and haphazardly tie it your chest. 

When the dragon sees you again, you look like a doll put together by child’s hands. The blade in your hands is too heavy, and the armor hanging off your body. But the fire in your eyes burns him the same as it would from any warrior. This display– gazing upon a woman with the determination to protect what she loves– is the best offering you’ve brought him yet. 

Amused, he asks what you intend to do with that sword, and you reply you will do what you must. The protectors of the sanctuary are to return within a day, and you will protect them. If the dragon desires destruction, he will have to kill you first. 

The dragon informs you that it is you that assumed he desired to destroy anything. You who begged on hands and knees for him to be merciful when he had done nothing but sleep too close to your home. Though he admires your effort, the sanctuary was never in danger from him.

He laughs at the shocked look on your face, and tells you that he has finally decided on his price. He shall have you. For the remainder of your mortal years, he shall have you at his beck and his call. Whenever he wishes to see you, you will come. For that is what he desires. 

You ask him if he plans to leave, and he says not far. This sanctuary is home to his pet now, and so it should be protected. He shall find a place higher up on the mountain, and the mere sight of him will ward off even the most bold of raiders. 

He leaves you feeling foolish, and you sit and wait for the others to return. 

When Zayne, Rafayel, and Xavier return, they’re in a hurry. Shedding filthy clothes from their hunt and searching for armor. For weapons. A dragon is circling over their mountain, and they must prepare. 

Sheepishly, you tell them what happened. That you met the dragon and he is here to stay. He won’t bother the sanctuary so long as you visit when he calls. There is quite the uproar– each one having their denials. It’s a night of yelling, from all of you. You argue that it’s the least you can do. If the dragon had wanted to kill you, he would have. You think he might just be lonely. 

The dragon doesn’t call for you until a month later, and it comes in the form of a raven. Flying into the sanctuary and finding you helping tan some of the many hides the hunters had brought. 

You follow the red eyed raven out of the sanctuary and into the forest, up a winding path and to a high up ledge. The wind is strong and the cave the dragon lives in is shallow. It’s cold and hardly a home, but you don’t comment. Not this time at least. 

This visit, you bring him a bag full of more crystals and some fresh meat this time. And in return, he gives you his name. It’s not pronounceable in your tongue and so you call him the closest name you can. Sylus. 

He preens when you name him, and you’re starting to think your assumption was right. He’s lonely. This fearsome beast did not make this wager for want of cruelty or sadism, but because he likes to be around you. 

Autumn brings with it harvests. Wild gourds to find, and nuts to gather. The leaves begin to change and the wind gets a little sharper. There are days when you venture out without Xavier, and you’re not sure how Sylus knows but he always seems to because he will find you. Sitting high up in the trees and watching you pick at fallen acorns.

Weeks go by and eventually you comment of Sylus’ living conditions. His bed is nothing but a couple furs, and he has nothing to protect him from rain coming in. Winter is approaching, and his little cave is hardly shelter from it. 

You form a plan, and it takes a while to get everything in order. Getting a reclusive dragon down from the mountain and into your sanctuary isn’t as simple as it sounds. This isn’t a puppy you found while wandering the forests, it’s a fiend. One that the people will fear if they aren’t properly prepared. 

So you start in a similar way to how you found him, with rumors. You use Rafayel and his way with words to weave stories of the dragon that protects your mountain. The sea god finds the dragon interesting, and desires to meet this other creature from legend. So, he helps you with this plan to bring the dragon down into the cavern below. 

Xavier is reluctant, he does not trust a dragon on principle alone. It takes him longer to warm up to the idea of him living in the sanctuary with you all, and you only convince him it’s to better protect everyone. If Sylus feels welcomed by the settlement, he’ll feel more inclined to protect it. 

Zayne is, oddly, the hardest to convince. He is so cautious and worries what adding yet another large personality will do to the mix. It’s bad enough having Rafayel here, who could level this place if his whim willed it. Having another man who could end everything they’ve worked so hard to build? No. 

You decide better to ask forgiveness than permission when it comes to Zayne. So, the very last thing to do before Sylus moves in, is tell Sylus that its happening. 

You wait until he calls on you again. Its the day after a heavy rain, and you nearly slip on the damp rock and the way up to his nest. The raven that accompanies him caws at you in aggravation when you slip again, and you’re clinging to the cliffside by the time you reach the top. 

Sylus never touches you. He avoids it as much as he can, but he grabs you the moment you’re close enough, and laughs at the way your knees tremble from the dangerous climb. You spy his cave, and it’s exactly as you feared. His nest is soaked, the little fire he’d built nothing but wet kindling, and you can see the way the rain poured in, pooling at the back. 

He notices you’ve come empty handed this time, and you tell him its because you have an offer for him. 

When you tell him to come back with you. That you have made room for him in the sanctuary he laughs at you the loudest yet. A fiend? Walking into your idyllic little cavern? The people will riot. They’ll flee, thinking it better to risk raiders than the maw of a dragon. 

It takes some convincing, and you have to hold his hand when you come down the mountain together. You can feel his hesitation, even if it doesn’t show on his face. He fears how the people will react when they see him. He cannot hide his horns, his tail, his claws, but you assure him he doesn’t need to. 

With you leading him, the people recognize the dragon. The stories you’ve spread have integrated themselves among the settlement that they people are overjoyed. They’re nervous, as Sylus is a tall and imposing figure, but they welcome him.

Zayne is not pleased when Sylus comes into his house, knocking his horns on the entryway. But you stand fast, saying that if he sends Sylus away, you will go with him. This only makes Zayne frown harder, and for a few days, he doesn’t speak to you. 

Things feel precarious, and winter sets in. Zayne feels distant, and Sylus is tense. Xavier is steadfast is his guard and his counsel. He offers you some advice that maybe, maybe they feel like you might be choosing one over the other. Declaring your intent to follow Sylus would have wounded Zayne, who values you highly.

You realize you’ve hurt Xavier too, when he tells you this. So you make efforts to make amends. You assure Xavier that you have no intention to leave the sanctuary, or him. Not for anything. 

Rafayel and Sylus form a tenuous friendship, The sea god is intrigued by the dragon, but Sylus, you learn, was not raised among his kin. He doesn’t know much about dragons beyond which he’s discovered himself. This intrigues Rafayel more and so they spend time comparing their…less human qualities. 

Making amends with Zayne is….tedious. It takes time for him to forgive you for threatening to leave, and for going against his command of ‘no dragons’. You dedicate more time to studying with him, learning the runes and getting up earlier than him to go through the rounds of reimplementing magic so he doesn’t have to. Even then, it’s a month before he speaks to you again with any length.

You keenly feel the loss of his companionship, and it frays you. So, one night you do something you haven’t in years. You silently enter his bedroom, and crawl into bed beside him. It’s cold, you mumble. And you and Zayne both know he’s a poor source of warmth. He doesn’t push you away, and holds you like he’s missed you. 

Winter is a time of huddling together. Forging bonds over fires and finding the way the pieces fit together. Sylus and Xavier have a competitive spirit with one another. They find themselves at odds. The five of you grow closer. And Zayne’s one room cottage becomes a proper house. With two floors, multiple rooms, and even little study filled with books. 

Their combined magic makes the sanctuary nearly impenetrable. No one, not even the strongest of sorcerers could detect the magic hiding the entrance in the forest. No one, not even the fiercest warrior, would dare tread upon a mountain circled by a dragon. And no one, not even the boldest of gods, would interfere upon the sea god’s new claim. 

The love between you is fragile. As fragile as the seedling sprouting in the spring. The winter passes by in a fever of feather-light affection and tentative kisses. You aren’t sure how to navigate this, and neither are they. It goes unspoken and unnamed, but there is a loyalty forged between the five of you that burns as hot as a dying star. Steadfast as steel, and hard as adamantium.

It’s summer again when the dream breaks. Nearly five years after Sylus had joined, he came rushing into the sanctuary after having patrolled the expanse of his domain. It startles the people he sprints by in his rush to reach your home. 

An army. He cries. An army approaches from the west with banners of white and silver. At least a thousand strong. They did not stop in their march when Sylus approached, and did not cow when he roared at them in warning. His draconic form was not frightening because they’d expected it. 

They’d been found. The sanctuary was in danger. Plans had been made for this occasion, but to actually have to use them? Your stomach turns with nausea as Zayne jumps into action. He and Xavier are the leaders in this, and they set to work immediately. 

They send scouts down through the gully, the people must be evacuated, and it’s the only way. A pair of their fastest runners are sent, but they return too soon. Barely a mile down, the gully hase caved in. There is no way out. 

When Rafayel goes to scout himself, he detects the remnants of magic. Stinking of destruction and sulfur. Someone caved it in on purpose, and made sure to do so with the rest of the tunnel too– there would be no digging out. 

The five of you try to avoid a panic in the people. They look to you and your group. With wide, fearful eyes they seek to find answers– for which you have few. 

Do you fight? Even with the strongest of warrior you have too few. Too many would be lost, and the sanctuary would be rubble. Fleeing is the only choice, but how? How to exapce with hundreds of people into the woods? They would be not only at the mercy of the elements, but the creatures that roam as well. 

An envoy arrives ahead of the army. A man clad in black armor with a silvery banner. His presence broaches the protective wards outside. There is much debate on who will meet him, and it’s eventually decided that Zayne and Xavier will. 

You, Rafayel, and Sylus stand at the very edge of the entrance out of sight. You hear the envoy hand Zayne a rolled parchment with demands. This settlement has not declared allegiance to any kingdom or god, and must do so to remain. 

Bend the knee to Astra, god of stars and stories. The envoy declares, Declare your allegiance to his service and his worship, and declare Astra the rightful ruler of Philos and the cosmos. Only then, will your settlement be spared. 

Zayne does not reply. The sound of parchment being unfolded could be heard and the terrible silence of it being read makes your heart pound. 

The scroll is crumpled and tossed to the grassy forest floor, Your message demands sacrifice. Payment for time unserved. Zayne’s voice is a deadly blade, and it’s a wonder it doesn’t kill the messenger. 

Astra demands your priestess. The one your people worship instead of him. The envoy informs, like he was going to go through this whole meeting without mentioning that tidbit of information. 

Zayne informs the messenger that no deal will be struck today, and to return to his master with a request for better terms. 

The three of you are caught eavesdropping when Zayne and Xavier return back to the shadows of the cavern, but no one speaks. 

Astra. One of the gods in this endless war. God of stories, he calls himself. Formless but with a handful of powerful priests as his agents to command his army. He seeks to control Philos and its kingdoms. To erect temples to his worship throughout the land– at least, that’s the story. 

He could just be a man. A man claiming godhood and enough people believed it to make it true. Rafayel is offended by the claim and says as much as you return home. 

You’re barely in the door before you say what they’re all fearing. That you’ll go. If it’s you that Astra’s demanding, then it’s what you have to do. 

Zayne’s sanity is on a knife’s edge, and he– along with the others– vehemently denies this. You won’t sacrifice yourself. They won’t allow it. 

What other choice is there? You say. The sanctuary. Everything you’ve built here. All the lives– the families that have been made here. The children born and raised in this safe haven. They are worth protecting. If your sacrifice keeps this place safe then it’s an easy bargain to make. 

Arguments ensue. Debates of morality and the worth of a single life. The option between giving allegiance to an evil god or attempting to flee is heavy. There isn’t a right answer, and there are too many wrong ones. A horrible game of rolling the dice and there’s no winners. Everyone is going to walk away from this table bloody and penniless if they don’t come up with something. 

Of course, it’s Zayne that comes up with an answer. After you’ve gone to bed, Zayne stays up through the night tearing through the tomes and texts he’s collected through the years. The book he stole from his birthplace– a city in service to Astra– that he’s refused to open all these years. 

He’ll use the god’s power against him. The god of stories will find his story rewritten. It’s a spell written only in theory, because in practice it cannot be done. Shouldn’t be done. It uses the user’s own life force to unravel the timeline they are in, to become nothing but an author to rewrite the word to their desire. A powerful, heinous spell. 

Sylus finds Zayne pouring over the texts and brings it to the attention of the others. While Zayne intended to do it alone, the others won’t let him. To truly unravel a thing like Astra, he will need more than his own mortality can provide. 

Sylus offers his own. Use his unnatural life. Use his soul. Undo this fate of almost love. Keep you safe. Keep the others safe. The sanctuary could burn for all he cares, but you….you have to live. 

Rafayel inserts himself saying that it would take the life of a god to kill another. That only Rafayel’s life force will be enough. Use him, and rewrite a world without this war entirely. Write a story where the world is peaceful and lovely. Where no one has to die. 

There is no agreement when it comes to these things. Whose life is worth losing? Who’s soul is worth sacrificing? It is an unanswerable question, and it is clever Xavier that finds an answer they can agree to.

Zayne must be the one to enact the spell. Only he, as a former agent of Astra can work the runes and weave the magic needed to do this dastardly thing. He puts you, Sylus, Rafayel, and Xavier into an unnatural sleep before he sets to work. He doesn’t say goodbye, none of you do– because if it works, then you’ll meet again. 

It is no simple trick, unweaving the tapestry of a universe. And more than a simple life is cost by the caster. The very threads of the universe they exist in are untied. They are stripped down to the barest of silk with the power of Zayne’s magic. 

Rewrite this story. Zayne sets the intention, and the runes he writes burn away the molecules of his flesh. Reality around him shifts, matter comes undone, Time stopped and rewound.

A new story is written. One without war. Without Philos and its greedy king. A timeline cleaned up of the filth this one was filled with. No Astra. No raiders. Not even a sanctuary, because it never had to be. The people that filled it are free to live lives full of choice and sunlight. No caverns and scrounging for food. 

A better life. A better story. 

Zayne signed his name and sealed his fate. Relinquishing the last of his memory to the demands of the spell. He was able to preserve the minds of those he loves, but he won’t remember any of it. In this new universe, he will be just as unaware as the rest of them. 

However, just before the supernova. Before the final page. Another line is written. Another hand writing in lines unintended by Zayne and the others. Another name was signed, and the story….changed. 

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[nitrosodiumgameanglia]

Why Sound Design is so Important in Games

Sound design is a key point in games, though it is often neglected in college games where we do a lot of work without speakers on. Having some good audio in a game really helps elevate the experience beyond just being a solely visual medium, as much as audio changed silent movies. The games with the best sound design are often those with realistic sound systems, or ones that elicit the desired emotional response. Good sound design can make you terrified to turn a corner; it can make you cry in the game's saddest moments; it can turn a level from a selection of rendered polygons to a truly real-seeming experience. Obviously our game's sound design isn't that deep, but it doesn't add nothing to the game either.

The first game I am looking at is Thief: The Dark Project. This game came out in 1998, but I would say it still holds up today with a few patches to make it run on modern systems. The game has a unique stealth system that lets you hide in shadows, but the main thing we're looking at is the sound. Different surfaces are different levels of loudness when walked on - carpet is perfect for sneaking, but metal catwalks are loud and clank under your feet. This isn't just set dressing either, because enemies are more likely to hear you if you're clanking about on steel grating. Then there is the ambient sound, where you can hear nearby guards muttering or whistling (in a great bit of game design, this helps you keep track of them when they're out of sight), torches crackle, and strange ambient screeches echo down hallways. The ambient soundtracks in each level are interesting, and use a lot of electronic synthesiser noises, which gives them an 80s John Carpenter vibe. They help make the environments foreboding, but also help tell the story in a way that 90s graphics simply could not. For example, as you enter the deepest annals of an ultra-religious Hammerite compound, the ambient whirr of machinery gets replaced by solemn choir and hymns. Caves can have dripping water and the occasional crumbling rock, while more twisted forest environments have the endless chirring of insects and chuckling from unseen nymphs and satyrs. The actual sound technology is also really good for the time, because it supports sound cards, even though they aren't used too much anymore. With them enabled, you can listen against a door and gauge how big a room is based on the echo of the guard's voices inside. Even for today that is fairly advanced, and as far as I know, not present in many other games.

The next game I am looking at is Hunt: Showdown. It is a 2018 horror shooter taking place at the end of the 19th century, where you play as a bounty hunter trying to kill various cryptids and monsters. The game uses the Cry Engine, so it already looks good on a visual front, but the audio is also phenomenal. Most of the quality comes from its directional sound system, which is so specific you can tell where players are through buildings, which is useful for lining up shots when you don't have a good visual read on their whereabouts. Every gun also has a unique sound and echo, which allows an educated player to guess what weapon has been fired, from what direction, and even from what distance. The way that the game calculates sound waves travelling is a very unique and realistic system; a gunshot ringing out over an open field will be louder and clearer than a gunshot fired in the middle of the thick backwoods. I assume this is a built-in feature for CryEngine V because I know of no other games with this level of realism when it comes to sound - I can only assume it calculates for windspeed and other factors and then runs the sound effect through various in-engine filters.

Finally, I will look at The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. One of the lesser-mentioned qualities of this game is its environmental sound design, which help the various holds of Skyrim seem like realistic places. The wind whistles about your ears, giving you a good sense of your player's altitude and the temperature around you. In the mornings and evenings, you can hear crickets chirring and birds chirping. The rushing of rivers sounds different depending on the course - swelling into a roar of white noise in the rapids, but dissipating to a trickle when the river becomes a lazy stream. Then there are more ethereal sounds, like the creaking of the aurora borealis on winter nights. Towns have their own soundscapes also, with the creaking wood of huts and the crackle of flaming torches. The ambient music by Jeremy Soule (the same guy behind the LOTR soundtrack) also adds a lot to the game's atmosphere, with majestic orchestras making even a simple walk through the valleys a much more emotive and captivating experience. However, you can play with the sound turned off and just listen to the layered soundscapes.

From my research, I can see that the main theme that makes a soundscape good is attention to detail. Not just having one sword hit sound, for example, but several, altered depending what material you strike, and echoing with a different resonance depending on where you are. I would say that with Wallpaper of the Mind, we have achieved this as best we can in four weeks, with the different footstep surfaces. The sounds I myself provided were more stock quality, but it doesn't matter, because how sound is used mechanically is just as important. I will make a blog post on this soon.