#praesidi

[kerothi]

sent from prompts / @praesidi

Strong winds howl around their shelter, whistling through the cracks in the walls and rattling at the old doors and window frames, spilling the icy chill in through every gap. The downpour is like a white noise against the glass, so heavy that it's loud—raindrops hitting as hard as rocks, that certainly felt like rocks when they were caught in it.

Eren says: ❝ I want to complain, but I don’t even have the energy.❞

From where he's sitting in front of the dusty old fireplace that he's still trying to light.

Jean, on the other hand, pivots around in his spot beside the window that he's been scowling out of, with his hair and clothes still soaked through and stuck to his frozen bones, and doesn't mind saying, "That's fine, I've got us covered. I don't know what's worse, us freezing to death in that freak-storm or getting crushed beneath this old heap—" The boards above his head let out a long and dismal groan, as if on cue, and Jean pauses to watch it and wait for it to stop—or possibly collapse on him...

He decidedly moves, side-eyeing the beams as he wanders back over to Eren and carries on his complaints. "Half the furniture's rotted to dust. Whole place is damp—the fire-wood's damp. There's no spare clothes. Moths have eaten through all the blankets. Can tell no one's been this way in a while. Looks like it's been forgotten about..."

Fortunately though, and despite all of Jean's griping about it, Eren hadn't forgotten about this old outpost. They'd still be caught out in the storm if he hadn't found it, which Jean is sure was more for his own benefit rather than Eren's, the titan shifter's, anyway. See, he and a good few others from his particular unit spend months out here, but it's to Jean's understanding that very little of that time is spent actually outside of the big, creepy beasties that they all control. This dump is evident that's true.

"And this is the best we've got 'til who-knows-when," he heaves out in a defeated sigh, slapping out one of his horribly soggy sleeves. "What d'ya think, did I miss anything?"

[massensterben]

for @praesidi

In some future history book, (if there is a future, if there is a history), it will seem to an anonymous reader such a strange play of life. What alliance can be forged from hatred that does not cannibalize itself at the slightest touch? How can two people from opposite sides of the same divide reach out and touch? There is no middle ground. There is only the abyss beneath their feet. 

That is where Eren found him. Even the glint of a vicious knife starts looking friendly when the alternative is blackness. Any eyes will do as long as they look at you with purpose. Bertholdt listened for a long time that night, that first of many nights. And then he nodded, once. And now they are here and the sun falls like dust in their eyes.

Around them, the backdrop plays out: distant rooftops, smoking chimneys, shuffling feet of dazed patients drag themselves across the hospital’s courtyard. Bertholdt sits stiffly in his uniform, a glaring red armband biting into his bicep, and lights a cigarette. His fingers do not shake. The charade tightens around him like a corset, like a straitjacket. He does not dare to move in anything but increments. What does he fear he will trigger? His titan or Eren's? They both must play with their hands in the air, all sharp objects kicked aside.

But he thinks about it. How easily all progress could be rendered void. If he were to reach out his hand, almost tenderly, and broke Eren's neck... The clock would reset. The entire chessboard upended, the forces that be would need to call remis. The Founding Titan recedes back into the masses, tossed to the wind for someone else to bear. Buy the entire planet a couple more years. He wishes he were pragmatic enough for that, for the right thing. But the unwilling dead drive their heels into his sides again, moaning in his ear to give their deaths purpose. It cannot be over until they were made useful.

So Bertholdt sits there and smokes and stares at the looming hospital across the yard. Somewhere else, a patient screams.

"Kruger, is it?" His voice rasps and rumbles, like a rock breaking off a cliff. The smoke has sandpapered his vocal cords into fraying ropes. His heart swallows itself as he focuses on anything but the silent horror by his side. "Shame about the leg."

[frustror]

the face that looks back at him now, even wrapped half beneath a swath of bandages, is unmistakably familiar. the first time zeke saw him, he'd said his brother looked nothing like their father, their shared stain, the withering, poisonous branch of the family tree. that same statement isn't necessarily true now, is it? beneath eren's gaze, too near to the ghost that haunts them both, he is suddenly relegated back to that place, shrinking in his seat at the table, turning back behind him at training to catch the disappointment, the disdain that rolled off his father in waves, washed over zeke's head and swallowed him beneath it, filling his eyes, his ears, his lungs. in eren's face, there is the man he has always hoped to avoid in his own.

he does not ever want to turn to his brother and find that same glint of disgust, sharp as a blade, cutting, in his eyes. the world has done nothing but teach zeke to be someone else, someone colder, to make a second self, but eren is the one who can split him open. he is the match in the dark, the missing piece where zeke has broken himself long ago.

he has tied the string of fate between them himself, when he vowed to come back for him. he will save him from their father's planted parasite, sever the ties that bind. the same way ksaver had done with him. zeke has always been fated to be the messiah, the one who will come to deliver eldia from her suffering. but since that day, salvation has seemed more singular: he will save eren, and then together, they will save the world. written in blood, it was always meant to be this way.

@praesidi says: i don’t want you to save me. i want to save myself.

it's as if eren can see through him, down to the marrow of his making. perhaps he's grown too transparent, his eagerness to trust turning him raw, exposing the tendons, flaying him. he takes it as their father speaking, the years of brainwashing slipping from his tongue. or maybe it's the stubborness of a mother, a woman zeke never knew. eren is headstrong, young. he thinks he does not need to be saved, thinks he can survive their shared poison alone. he does not know zeke is the antidote.

he hums thoughtfully, watching his expression. his own does not shift, is steeled against any disappointment at his words. " how about we save each other? " he smiles, tossing the baseball in his hands from one palm to another. brothers, he thinks. this is how they're supposed to be, isn't it? eren will come around soon enough. he will let zeke make him whole again. he chuckles, " i think that sounds much better, don't you? poetic, isn't it? "

[sky-scribbles]

I love the difference in Essek's attitude accompanying the M9 and his attitude escorting the Hells. With the M9, he was still so desperate to prove himself, and still treading so carefully. He was cool with them wandering fucking wherever (and when he did have misgivings, he voiced them quietly) and he let them put their hands all over everything, because he was there to support them. Whatever they wanted.

Who is he to tell them what they should and should not do? If Fjord wants to step into a weird time tube, Essek hasn't the right to say no.Jester and Cad want to fix a robot? That's their decision. Sure, let's chat to all of these corpses. Essek is behind them, he loves them, he will support almost any dumbfuckery because he is still on the thinnest of ice.

Then he gets handed the Hells and he is fucking RESPONSIBLE for these idiots' safety. They see him as an authority and he is their first line of defence against being eaten by a sex monster. If they do something stupid, he has to tell them right fucking now, and oh, gods, they are doing so many somethings stupid. He will get pissed off and snarky and speedrun the entire Praesidis Ward because they have THINGS TO DO. He is grabbing them by the toddler leashes and yanking them toward the fucking plot.

In short, I'm wondering how much desperate screaming on the inside Essek was tamping down when he was following the Nein.

[captainofthetidesbreath]

as always, everyone say "thank you, Fjord" for insisting on staging the trap for the Tomb Takers at the initial descent into Aeor rather than in the Praesidis Ward, because he was right about it

[sassy-cass-16]

essek saying "blood hunter" in THAT tone with THAT energy is just. he will never get over the lucien incident. he is reaching levels of bitchy that the mighty nein only dreamed of

OH SHIT PRAESIDIS WARD

[ludinusdaleth]

"You see a human woman in a powerful stance. Arms out in front, looks like they are in the midst of some sort of incantation, mouth open, shouting and intent. Very, very officious look to her. She is dressed in a multilayered, prestigious looking cloak and mantle with details and tethers and tassels decorated to appear of great import. Her hands in the midst of pressing the spell outward, shouting, and locked in whatever moment she last had. You do see another one of those mostly metallic humanoid figures. This one much more intact, though it looks like one of its legs is heavily damaged and shredded. You can see its chest is partially pulled open in the front, but its head is intact to its shoulders, its arms are intact, and it looks like it has some decoration to it. Something connects the decoration between the figure in the dome and this particular mechanical being." -Critical Role Campaign 2, Episode 133, "Hunter and Hunted"

"We were here to beseech Brashaar, to protect us. Brashaar, one of the great mages, architect, and the one of many who put us to this doom. Filled our minds with thoughts, drew the ire of the gods." -Critical Role Campaign 2, Episode 134, "Streets of the Forgotten"

Grim Psychometry: Brashaar in the Praesidis Coliseum

-Critical Role Campaign 3, Episode 96, "Shadows New and Old"

[blackmosscupcakes]

Oh man, I showed my husband the end of the live show (he doesn't watch C3 but he LOVED Calamity and also loves Brennan), and I was telling him why I was so excited about an Aeor version of Calamity and there are SO MANY things we could see.

Like, just rattling off:

Finding out what the fuck Illidan Athodan's deal was

Getting to see the Genesis Ward in action

Getting to find out what was up with the important lady in the stasis bubble in the Praesidis Ward

Getting to see what happened with the COGNOUZA WARD and maybe meet the Somnovem as they once were

More aeormaton stuff. Devexian? FCG? F.R.I.D.A.?

Oh my god so much more stuff. Just Aeor's entire deal

Okay so I'm pretty sure Bolo died in Avalir but she had a FAMILY with SISTERS back in Aeor

[naitfall]

what are you the patron saint of?

patron saint of bones

patron saint of frameworks. of structures. of solidity. patron saint of things that break. patron saint of things that are left behind. the bones survive long after the body, the building: what is there left for them, when the rest has gone? what do bones do, with nothing to hold around them? who holds the bones?

tagged by: @viitlumi , @massensterben , @praesidi (thank you so damn much!!!)

tagging: @worldhell / @lausticzt , @gyofukuki , @eatenword , @centuricnis , @dutyworn and anyone who hasn't done this!

[elemmacil]

the fair wizard and the salmon of praesidis

Critical Role | Caleb/Essek | 4.3k | Rated G

On their second trip into Aeor, Caleb and Essek just wanted to end a long, tiring day by curling up in bed together. Maybe in another reality.

“Herr Shadowhand,” he intones as flat and long-sufferingly as possible while the curl of his mouth trembles traitorously, “I thought we agreed, no more arcane bullshit today.” If Essek were currently capable of speech he’d have something endearingly bitchy to say about that, no doubt.

[Ao3]

[kerothi]

What are you the patron saint of?

Patron saint of Heartbreak not of comfort. not of condolences. there is a heart and there is a fissure, a fracture, something that starts to splinter and break open. you're the patron saint of the way a heart is rent open. the way it tears itself apart. patron saint of the rift. patron saint of the gash. when they say to "open your heart" to somebody, you are the patron saint of bleeding out.

tagged by: stolen from: @wellfell c:

tagging: @praesidi | @astutior | @massensterben | @calcitration | @ausdauer & you!

[jxwz]

What are you the Patron Saint of?

Patron Saint of Blood patron saint of the life that flows through our bodies. patron saint of violence. patron saint of love. something that does not watch over but exists within: not for protection but for vitality. there is no passion without a beating heart at its core. when that heart breaks open, someone has to be responsible for what it bleeds.

Tagged by: @praesidi

Tagging: Nobody, I win. Everybody go home.

[naevose]

what does your heart look like?

an open door, a burning hearth Your chest is wide open, and your heart is a home. Others are welcomed in readily and asked to stay. You are comfort and love, everything you were never given but so desperately want to provide for others. You have built this welcoming hearth with your own two hands and won’t see anyone else left out in the cold. Be careful to not burn yourself out trying to keep everyone else warm.

tagged by: stolen from dear @handtame. ♡ tagging: @praesidi, @kerothi, @witchofthewalls, @thecommanderzoe.

[mercurialstorm]

What does your heart look like?

iced over, out of the sun

Your heart is very lonely, isn’t it? Is your fortress of ice self-made? Are others afraid of you, or are you afraid of them? Are you afraid of hurting them, or of being hurt? Vulnerability and connection can be frightening, but that’s no reason to shy away from their light, to tuck yourself small into corners, to build up frigid walls to keep yourself from feeling. You will heal when you allow yourself to draw closer to the flames and thaw.

tagged. stolen from @praesidi

tagging. everyone!

[astutior]

what are you the patron saint of?

PATRON SAINT OF BONES patron saint of frameworks. of structures. of solidity. patron saint of things that break. patron saint of things that are left behind. the bones survive long after the body, the building: what is there left for them, when the rest has gone? what do bones do, with nothing to hold around them? who holds the bones?

tagged by: @kerothi tagging: @praesidi @polishedforsurvival @calcitration @centuricnis

[captainofthetidesbreath]

I am really late with this one, I keep forgetting it is Thursday, so no lead-up: 39 items, here's the BingoBaker link. One of these days, I'll remember in a timely manner and have an interesting call list again.

I don't really have any notes about this, but as always, if you have any questions about the interpretation of a square, just send me an ask—though, I always encourage interpreting them in whatever way gets you closest to bingo.

celestial identified

Prime breaks from the plan

Betrayer breaks from the plan

any of three objectives accomplished

shit hits the fan

gods recognized

Wildmother is hungry

Wildmother wolf time

sibling sniping

Genesis Ward

Ars Ward

Praesidis Ward

other ward named

initiative

multiple initiatives

no initiative

event from the war mentioned

Tengar mentioned

Dearest

Brashaar appearance or mention

Athodan appearance or mention

Selena appearance or mention

other Prime mention

other Betrayer mention

Luxon allusion or mention

previous god of death mention

Predathos mention

Betrayer God class confirmed

PC subclass confirmed

Detect Thoughts

Invisibility

pre-5e spell

Arcana check

Deception check

History check

Insight check against NPC

Insight check against PC

Persuasion check

any save