#raven crag

[khorazir]

Some weird creatures inhabit the forests around Raven Crag near Thirlmere ...

[13curses]

౨ৎ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝐃𝐎𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐆 & 𝐏𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 ✗ geto suguru (𝟏𝟖+)

MDNI ⸝⸝ nsfw ⸝ f!reader ⸝ creampie ⸝ unprotected sex ⸝ reader is kinda dozing off ‘n sleepy but it's all consensual (ø somno) ⸝ a bunch of ass touching ⸝ backshots ⸝ needy dom!suguru ⸝ if all’s well it ends in cuddles

synopsis ꒱ suguru gets home from a long-winded mission and yes, he wants to feel the warmth of your shared bed, but his priorities are the warmth of your insides. ᡣ𐭩

wc ꒱ 2.5k a/n ꒱ FIRST FIC ON THIS BLOG WOOOO wrote this w a headache, the impending doom, the cheezbot as my only follower && the insatiable need to fuck suguru raaaawww mama. enjoy xoxo

suguru’s gaze is scrutinizing your body now. his big shirt that you obtained as pajamas is creased at your stomach, raised enough to give a little insight to your skin, near your navel where your left hand is resting. the blanket is covering most of your lower area, but it's messy enough to reveal about a quarter of your thigh, along with the line of your panties clinging to your hips. those black panties are the ones with a dainty white ribbon on them, he knows despite your fingers covering the detail. 

you're mesmerising when you're in a slumber.

your skin looks heated even from afar, your hand has just moved from his favorite accessory on your underwear, and you’ve just taken a sharp breath leading you to a soft sigh and a quiet moan as you turn on your side, your upper leg now wholly exposed—

suguru needs a shower. he decides as he grunts in a scoffing manner, rubbing his temple with one, then both hands as he drags himself from the door borders to the bathroom connected to the bedroom.

within the water crashing his skin, he breathes out as his muscles relax. at least he tries to get them to, alas most of the tensity is in his dick. to put it rawly, when observing your snoozing state suguru's come the conclusion that it's either nudging you awake or relieving himself under the hot rain in the shower. 

his baby's just come to terms with falling asleep without him being home, how could he interrupt?

he turns his back at the stream and reaches for his shaft that's been hardening since he's inspected you. a low, broken sigh escapes his mouth at the awaited touch, so he puts his free hand on the wall to steady his position, beginning to gently stroke his partially soft cock. 

drops are rolling down his broad back and the glass of the cabin begins to fog up. all five of his finger pads are working to rile himself up, to display his prick in its fullness. yet, it's being awfully stingy, as if signalling that the water at its highest temperature is merely not enough to replace the tight warmth of yours.

“mmh— oh, fuck this.” suguru fusses, akin to a whine in disguise, dropping his hand from the tiles. plan b: he's gonna conk himself out and as soon as he wakes up, he's initiating morning sex. 

his dick drops from his rugged palm, limping helplessly, and as he shakes his thoughts off in regards to waking you up, he grabs his significant shower gel.

     afterwards, suguru stands at the foot of your bed, brushed raven hair resting on his shoulders, his towel neatly wrapped around his waist.

you're curled up on your side, waiting for him to be your assigned big spoon, unaware of your surroundings and his nasty thought process.

the gears in his brain are rusting — would you mind not looking so delicious in even a dreamy state? 

but suguru is just a man, and you're everything, so he takes two steps forward, kneels on the bed and scoots close to you. his symbolic gel soon reaches your nose, and you move your head a little. when he's leaning over your smaller frame, you shift your legs in awareness. he scoffs through his nostrils and places a cragged hand on your cheek, his mint breath fanning your face. he places a kiss on your temple, then two, then more.

your eyelashes flutter, your eye movement under your lids quickens. they open, droopy. suguru's affable, he doesn't say a thing just yet — his thumb is caressing your jawline.

“suguru..” you murmur, only audible within inches.

“hey, baby.”

you shuffle, wrinkling the sheets as you extend your legs to turn on your back. 

“mhh, how long have you been home?” you rasp, your lidded eyes meeting his. his hand travels down your neck to your thigh, nuzzling it. god, the inner part was heated.

“not long. just got out of the shower.”

he fixes the lifted part of the shirt you're wearing, but near immediately tucks it back up to stroke your side.

“'can tell.” you smile mildly at his scent. he chuckles in a deep tone as you yawn, “if you're g'na sleep naked, that's fine, but just c'me to bed. you must've worked hard.”

you graze his arm with invitation then turn a hundred and eighty degrees to your stomach, laying your cheek on your left forearm that's sinking onto the the feather-filled pillow which your right arm is hugging from under.

“'n fix my blanket.”

again, the material's barely covering half your body, but in a cross, not vertically. most of your thigh is exposed and the cotton is wrapping your round ass so nicely.

suguru leans away, licking his lips before biting the lower. he tilts his head to the side, now biting his tongue in uncertainty. his lips are sealed, pressed, then they open.

“i was thinking about pulling it off, actually.”

his confession leaves your eyebrows furrowed as you mewl an inarticulated 'what' before speaking.

“why? 'ts cold.”

“to reach you,” he leans back, massive hand creeping up your back, under the borrowed shirt, “and touch you.. a little.”

“sugu..”

his needy wish is slipping right out.

“can i fuck you to sleep, sweetheart?”

if you hadn't been awaked by his addictive scent and need to communicate, you'd think you are dreaming right now. your tired truth at the moment is that your man is crazy.

“i can sleep just fine, thank you.” you skimp, and suguru nearly moans in pain, but surpasses it.

“you know what i mean. may i fuck myself to sleep, then?”

god, he was needy and if you were to say no, his only escape route from his advancing boner was to relieve himself in the bathroom.

you attempt to think clearly, but you’re cut off by yet another yawn that transforms into a mewl.

“suguuu...”

he swallows, but doesn’t miss the action of you squirming just a little at his lustful words, lazily rotating your hips to keep composure. your lashes flicker as you open your lids to not crash asleep before you can give this more thought (or perhaps the first one amidst your sleepy complains).

he’s ready to remove his damp towel and lie either next to you and wait until morning or crawl back to the washroom like a loser, but you lift your head and look behind. the most awake he’s seen you since he’s arrived.

“you need me that much?” 

you sound generous.

he snorts, “i’m not just horny. i miss your tight little pussy a deranged amount.”

now that one sends bolts down your core and makes you moan under your sealed lips, squeezing your knees. still, you’re drowsy, so if your man wants to have your pussy in any position, you can simply lay still. you rest your head on the cloudy cushion and embrace it with both hands.

“then have me.”

the implication that you’re giving him access while getting what you want, which is to relax, immediately goes into his cock, which is so proud it’s demanding the towel be removed with a twitch. suguru draws a long, relieved breath, tugs at the fabric and eliminates it, instantly bowing down to touch you freely. 

he begins peppering your neck with kisses, wandering to your earlobe for a whisper.

“thank you, doll.” his hot breath sends low chills down your skin, right where his hands are travelling, massaging your bare back, the behind of the shirt rolled up to your shoulder blades. “good fuckin’ girl..”

he hugs your ribs with his muscular forearm, roaming your boobs with his persuasive palm. as he grazes your nipple, you shiver. his free hand goes down to your butt, digging into your flesh as his army of kisses continues on your nape — all in favour of prepping your wetness. he dodges the blanket with his knee before you both get tangled in the sea of sheets. the cold blows your skin; you wince.

“it's okay, sweetheart, tss, i'm g'na warm you up alright,” suguru soothes you, seasoning his preparation with words that never miss to rile you up, “have you been thinking of me? hoping i'd get home earlier to take care of you and your sweet, sweet spots?”

not a long time passes prior to your arousal swimmimg through your folds, which suguru feels up by digging under your cotton panties, coaxing your balmy juices. he recognises the sign to pull your underwear off, lifting your calves to roll the material down your ankles. he frames your thighs with his; he's careful not to burden you with his weight, strong thighs flexing to keep his composition.

he grabs an unused cushion to place under your stomach, and you assist by extending your arms on them, comfortably resting your flesh on said arms, face melting into the pillow. suguru takes his now hard cock in hand, stimulating the veiny length. a whimper escapes you as you feel the reddish tip touch your bottom, some precum leaving a tint.

“f’ck me..” you whine flatly, ‘cause your dreamy state is akin to a midwinter night’s wet dream.

“hah~” he breathes out, cock head already between your lower petals, “that’s not something to worry your pretty head about.”

suguru grips your left cheek as his fat tip is lead through your slit, and the deeper he's in, the more he’s towering towards you.

forthwith he's halfway inside you and upon your hot walls enticing him, his lids cover his eyes which roll back with a deep groan. he lets go of his manhood and directs that grip to your hip, digits deepening in your beloved fat. you lay still besides your tiny, sensitive squirms, however when suguru begins ploying inside your gummy walls, your lips depart and your eyebrows rise on their own.

cursewords are vocalized in his moans. his thrusts are advancing, so is the squelching of your wetness.

“yeahhh, jus' like that, god.” he remarks, spine straightening; his grasp on your buttocks being a steady foundation.

his knees begin to crumple up the mattress cover with each move, and complimenting him, you cry into the headrest. suguru gives your ass a tame slap before kneading the round flesh, and he's finally all in, pounding into you like he's making up for weeks, but it isn't rough.

your elbows are grazing your hip bone and your crotch is firing up the forearms you rest upon with sweat, but suguru's pelvis knocking the wind out of your bouncy ass makes up for the scalding feeling.

“ruru~!”

you arch your backbone, semi-accidentally rooting him deeper into you, moaning with lush. the concave of a situation allows suguru to release his hold, throwing his head back mindlessly, flexing the sculpted details of his neck. extending his fingers on your back, you feel committed to relax all of your parts but your lower back which you're hilling.

it hits so deep, deep, deep in this sluggish, needy position, you take a mental note to try it again, rough and bouncy, when you're not dozing off.

“you're godsent.” he murmurs, the flirt finished with a needful hiccup. simultaneously, he opens his eyes as they roll back into their natural location.

gaze fixated on his muse, the trajectory of his cock twitches; it's the biggest fan of your pussy and as if it had gotten flustered, it misses your g-spot for a few thrusts, then strikes it stronger than lightning. a faint state of dizziness rushes over you at the act, spongy walls clenching around their company. bit of saliva drips out of your repeatedly agape mouth.

“s'good— so deep!” you sniffle, and your following tired truth is, “missed you.”

endearment fills suguru, it replaces the desire in his smile with delight.

“missed you more, babydoll.”

“huff~ in me, in me...” dozy mumbles leave your throat and you almost start searching for his gaze to seal the promise, but your lover shushes you.

“ssh, all's g'na go in you, 'm giving you everything you want, yeah baby? you close?” 

taunting, his tip bumps your cervix and you have no different answer but—

“ngh! yes!! yes! mhh..!”

your toes curl, close to numbing your feet, and the springs of the bed grate with a high noise because suguru's digits are embracing your cheeks again and he's doubled his pace. sloshes of your arousal are leaving flecks on the white sheet, and whenever he slides out of you, his cock is glossier than during the last couple of plunges.

you tug your arms from under yourself, hugging the head pillow in a hurry, nails clawing. you repeatedly whine the first two syllables of his name, your lower area is cramping up.

defeated by his thighs trapping yours, you can't flow apart. suguru groans, moans, then whines your name through gritted teeth. his tense balls are adding friction to your clit with every swing; as a bonus, he attends your puffy slit with his thumb to rub it with skill.

you would not have expected to reach your climaxes in sync, it's the mere serendipity of this new found depth. heat rushes throughout your boyfriend whilst his dynamic pounces turn slouchy, his marbles nearly burst at the veins from the urge to overflow your hole.

his pants quicken. he chokes on his vowels, and at last, suguru's shaking. rutting into you like a mad dog, his semen arrives in strings, forming into an eruption, just like the orgasm you own with strained muscles, squeezing your eyes shut.

you huff and puff into the pillow, restraining your breathing, “sugu—! sugu–hu~..”

teeth sinking into your lip, threatening a bleed out, you back into suguru helplessly, milking him dry as you cover him with your hot nectar. releasing into you, what’s left of his thrusts is not far from brushing you with his crotch, and it merely turns into grinding. afterwaves of your orgasm leave you jerking firmly. sensitive hums are heard from your trembling mouth.

suguru’s broad chest is heaving, and fixing his blurry vision with a few blinks he opposes to collapsing atop of you. he forces his post-orgasm energy to withdraw his softening cock, watching as threads of his seed stick to your damp cunt. the amount achieves some of the white to ooze out.

“thank you, baby,” he exhales, hoarse, “shit. you’re the best. sweet baby…” he pats your bottom curves. 

intending to start your sentence with ‘if you are feeling so thankful today, you should come…’, you’re only able to whimper the point, “cuddle.”

a loveful snicker is what suguru replies with as he eliminates the cushion under your belly.

finally climbing into bed, he assists you with turning on your side so you can form into his littlest spoon, cuddling up to him as he hugs you from behind, planting lazy kisses on your nape — this time, with the intention to sleep.

your legs are not straddled by his anymore, your clammy skin is breathing, and you keep the bundle of cum at your core content.

it’s not so cold anymore.

[jame7t]

Why so _______

- The ______

Fill in the blanks!

“Why songbirds?” She asked, fiddling with the faux-feathers. “Wouldn’t a corvid be a better fit for a… spy?”

Melvik rolled his eyes again, as if spywork and the elaborate creation of false-life was a simple thing that his temporary protégée was failing to grasp. “Sure, yeah, ravens are nosy little fucks- but when you see one, you watch it. They’re smart. You look at birds like that. You can feel them watching you. And watch one too closely…”

“…you’ll notice it’s fake,” she finished. “Okay, but why songbirds? They make so much noise.”

“It gets drowned out in the pack. Flock. Whatever. And that’s the point, too. Nobody expects a spy to make noise.” He leaned back from the desk, a single false bird complete- one more to the pile. He plucked the soon-to-chirp thing from the wooden bench, and placed it on the metal sheet her siblings sat motionless on. “Five-four. I take the lead again.”

Gloria furrowed her brows at him- it’s not her fault she’s the only halfwit in the spire who knows about faux-life the month before deployment. “Where IS your little helper, anyway? How come I’m stuck here helping you?”

Melvik leaned forward awkwardly to start on another songbird. “He decided he’s an aspirant.” He spit the word.

“Little Crug? He’s an aspirant?”

Melvik raised his eyes to meet Gloria, and gave a single small nod.

“Good lord- The other children call him Crug, how is he gonna be an aspirant?”

“He’s not. He’ll wash out.”

“Right.” Gloria looked down at the spy in her hands, realizing she’d inserted a feather backwards. “Fuck.”

Continuing as if they hadn’t reached the natural stopping point, Melvik sighed- “It’s like he’s ignored everything he’s good at in favor of something that’s get him killed even if he doesn’t flunk out. Which, mind you, he will!”

Fumbling with a misplaced leg, his rant continues.

“Even if he does, somehow, become a pilot, which one would he even drive? The Mercello? The damn Mercello? We need things other than Titans to protect the Keep!”

Gloria nods, half listening. She opens her mouth to interject- not yet sure if she agrees- but Melvik isn’t done.

“He’s going to wash out of training, and when he comes back with half his motor functions intact, he’s gonna be sorry when I don’t let him back in. I can’t!” He meets Gloria’s eyes. “It’d be a security risk at that point. You get it, don’t you?”

She gives him an uncertain half-smile; the act of becoming an aspirant is seen as noble- a sacrifice, even. But those who ‘wash out’ are not often kept in high regards. Gloria’s cousin was one such unfortunate aspirant.

Melvik sees the uncertainty and relents- his eyes close, and he opens them to view the rotten thing in his hand. He managed to insert both legs backwards in his anger- and maybe, he dreaded, his age.

“I just needed one. One guarantee this craft wouldn’t be lost when… when I lose it.”

Gloria grimaced- she didn’t think her workmanship was that bad. “I’m sure there’s others who’ll keep it up. You know? You’re not the only weaver.”

“Nobody knows how to weave like I do.”

“And why’s that? What’s your special secret?”

“Nobody knows how- they-“

“Come on, then! Spill it! Nobody knows how to what?!”

“Fill in the blanks!”

Gloria rolled her eyes. “That’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” he groans, continuing far past the natural stopping point. “Real songbirds don’t just ‘start and stop’- real foxes don’t just sit and watch. You have to make them real. You have to make them feel real.”

“So what you’re saying is, the director pays you extra because you play with puppets.” She meant it as an insult- she certainly thought so.

Melvik grins.

He looks to the small, soon to chirp thing in his hands- legs corrected, little beady eyes ready to see. “Yeah…”

He envisions the Titans- the pilots sitting within their puppet-rigs, marching along the ocean front; watching for the minions of the Corpse Moon to meet them along the coastal crags.

“Puppets.”

Maybe he does understand.

[preciouslandmermaid]

of songbirds, swords, and spice masterpost

tags: slow burn, slow build, friends-to-lovers, trauma, eventual sexual content, angst, humor, canon-typical violence, found family, polyamory, falling in love, POV multiple, reader-insert, action/adventure, past abuse mentioned, eventual romance, touch starved, battle couple, devil fruit reader, hurt/comfort, mulit-chapter fic, no use of Y/N (future chapters will include tws + additional tags)

rating: mature/explicit

🏴‍☠️ read on AO3 🏴‍☠️

summary: You've performed at Le Cupidon Doré, your "grandmother" Estella's business, for the past four years. Every full moon, you step onto stage and enchant the patrons and collect their hard earned berry. Tonight is no different. It isn't.

Until you realize another devil-fruit eater is in the crowd. Fate, as you've learned, has a bad habit of mucking things up just when you were starting to get comfortable.

🌙 chapter one: Nightingale Island! Performance of the singing moon! 🌙 chapter two: Performance cut short! Arrival of the Bloody Bandits! 🌙 chapter three: Estella's Dream! The Straw Hats Look for Pandora's Box! 🌙 chapter four: Journey into Raven's Crag! The Puzzle Box's Deadly Protector! 🌙 chapter five: Celebration Aboard The Going Merry! 🌙 chapter six: An Unwelcome Guest! What is Estella's story? 🌙 chapter seven: Capture the Wasp! The End of a Nightmare! 🌙 chapter eight: 🌙 chapter nine: 🌙 chapter ten: (other chapters/titles to be added) *i have at least 13 chapters planned

extras: moodboard //

[candyswirls]

Crow and Fledgling

Synopsis: a little tidbit of what Corvus Corax has been doing while in the warp.

Word Bearers were easy to spot. There was an air about them that brought attention. Foul traitors.

He had sworn in his wrath to take down his wretched brother, Lorgar. But other things had arose. More important things.

He itched to slip down there and massacre them all but he had more pressing matters.

He glanced over at the boy. He watched him crouched and creeping forward towards an unsuspecting amphibious warp creature. He pounced but the creature leapt away.

He fell face first into the mud. Corvus, don’t bolt to pick him up. Don’t baby him.

The boy stood up and laughed as he spat about mud. He moved to try again. Waiting for the creature to let down its guard. Walking with bare feet, using the mud on him as camouflage.

He tried a different approach and moved ever so closer to the amphibian. Then he grabbed it.

The creature flailed in the little arms. Corvus held his breath, willing the boy strength.

Pride swelled in him as the amphibian failed to get away. The boy laughed and came running, holding up the creature.

“Look! Look!” He exclaimed. “I caught it! I caught it, father!”

He beamed up at the Primarch. Mud streaking across soft cheeks. Stark against the pale white skin. Long black hair tangled behind him. His eyes large, bright, and lively as pitch black orbs could be. One would guess he was of the Raven Guard legion were it not for the sharp white teeth in his mouth.

Corvus reached down and ruffled his head. He would comb it out later.

“Well done, Kiri,” Corvus said. “Well done my son.”

He could have sworn that Kiri’s eyes sparkled and glowed whenever he referred to him as his son.

Kiri hugged the amphibian.

“What are you going to do with it?” He asked him.

Kiri thought for a moment then exclaimed, “Let’s eat it!”

He held it above his head and went running, tripping and falling into the mud again. Yet somehow he held onto the creature as he scrambled up.

“I’m okay!” He called back.

Corvus shook his head as he chuckled. He was resilient and never let anything keep him down. He was so positive. A wonder considering how awful childhood had been thus far.

He was so small. Barely nine years old. The thought made his blood boil. That bastard brother, so willingly to give away a child for experimentation. It made him hate the traitors all the more.

He trailed after his son as they moved towards the passage way to the hideout. He had already picked up the boots he had forgotten.

Kiri’s small feet padded quickly. Feathers ruffling at the heel. The warp was slowly mutating him. Since replacing the previous geneseed with his own, the boy had begun taking on more of his own appearance. The exception was the ears and those teeth. Other than that, you’d have never guessed he was from Nostramo.

He took a strange comfort in him. Both of them were displaced from time. Most of those they knew gone. Those that were alive were traitors. Both had destiny and great responsibility thrust upon them when they were incredibly young.

He lifted his head as he saw Kiri stop and crouch at a hole. The Raven Lord prepared to swoop in if there was danger.

The boy looked up and came running to Corvus, smiling.

“Anything interesting?” He asked.

Kiri shook his head, “No, just more mud. Oh. I’m all dirty.”

He held out an arm and the amphibian almost slipped out.

“We’ll get you cleaned up when we get back,” Corvus assured.

His son looked hopeful, eyes darting from his wings to the passage.

“We can fly the rest of the way,” Corvus confirmed.

Kiri jumped up and down, “Yes!”

He scooped up the boy and unfurled his wings.

They swooped over the various canyons and caverns of the warp. The land changing ever so threateningly. But he paid it no mind. After unleashing the true nature of his soul and being in the warp for millennia, it was easy to navigate.

He landed on the crag and looked around. He’d been invisible as he flew but one could never be too careful. Especially with such precious cargo.

Once he deemed it to be safe, he slipped into the hidden cave, crawling down till he reached his base of operations.

He nuzzled Kiri with his beak, nipping at loose clumps of hair and feathers.

His son giggle and tried to block Corvus with his arms. He then grinned and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Corvus smiled and set him down.

“Go put the creature somewhere safe,” he told him. “Then get cleaned up.”

“Okay, Father!” He answered as he ran down a hallway.

He watched him go. The warp was no place for a child but it had already done so much to the both of them. He could hardly stand the thought of his little boy being away from him for too long. The safest place was near him.

(I made Kiri when I first was getting into Warhammer. He was part of a group of loyalist Night Lords that were in the warp then eventually it shifted that he had been a night lord neophyte so I could have a younger perspective. I actually wrote a sad scene where they try to join Corvus and he rejects them. Don’t worry he comes around! But since reading @/Jaghatai-Khock’s stuff about a Zadkiel and Varska I figured why not have this little baby be shown? Let’s throw adoption into the mix. Also have to give kudos to @/necrophiliak. The Night Lordsona with Kayvaan further influenced the development of it.)

Series of this: Part 1

[angel-of-the-moons]

A Rose Under The Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc, Steven, Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Child Abuse, PTSD, Anxiety, Depression

A/N: Here's some more angst I'm sorry Also, sorry for this chapter being so short!! But it felt important and I kinda wanted to do more short chapters like this to help stretch the story along a bit further. But we're so close! More drama is afoot! Angst! Despair! Dun dun duuuuun...

Taglist:@bad4amficideas @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @shirukitsune @lokisremainingsanity @mundivagantsoul @furblrwurblr @zoleea-exultant @latenightcravingz @daygirl26 @thelastemzy @leahnicole1219 @marsmallow433 @crazyunsexycool @oscarissac2099 @littlenosoul @animechick555 @capsiclesworldsblog @cloudroomblog @lov3vivian @princessakirika @fog-sama @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @badbishsblog @stardream14 @meowmeowyoongles @kate-ohara @kittenlover614 @patchesofwork @enheduannasposts @lillycore555

Chapter 13:

A Rock, A River, And A Boy With a Soft Smile

The dreams weren't constant.... but some of them were better than the first. Sometimes worse... But whatever they were, it was obvious that these dreams were connected to your soulmate... Why else would you be able to touch the boy but nobody else?

As you dreamt, more and more happened. You never saw the boy as an adult man; only ever as a child, or varying ages below 18. It took you a short while to figure out just what these dreams were.

His memories.

And they explained so much of the phantom pains and bruises you'd felt growing up your entire life.

It wasn't until tonight that you were in a different place; trees and grass surrounded you. There was a rocky outcropping with what looked like a crevice inbetween the crags.

Outside of the cave was a boulder, and on that boulder was the boy. His knees were tucked up to his chest and his arms were wrapped tightly around them, his face buried as he shook, bruises visible on his arms, his clothes dirty; twigs stuck out from his raven curls here and there. It became obvious rather quickly that the boy had possibly slept out here.

You rushed over to him, compassion hitting you like a freight train and gently placed your hand on his shoulder.

His reaction was instinctive, brought on by practice of avoiding his mother's blows. The boy's arms immediately went up to cover his head, flinching to protect himself from a blow that you were never going to deliver.

"It's okay, I'm sorry!" You hushed him gently as he scrambles down into the grass to get away from you. You fell to your knees, feeling the dirt and mud cake onto your pajama pants; you held your hands out to him, showing you weren't going to do anything.

It wasn't until one amber eye peeked out at you that he finally realized you weren't his dreadful mother. He lifted his head and his eyes widened.

"Are you okay?" You asked him desperately, "Are you hurt?"

"What are you? Did he send you to mess with me?" He asked you, his voice cracking slightly in pitch, "Because making me do those... those things aren't enough? Now he's gotta... gotta..."

That broke your heart even more; he was so young. Too young to be suffering this kind of abuse, too young to worry about when the next blow was going to land. He shouldn't have to think of his home as a battlefield he had to navigate like some kind of shell-shocked soldier.

"Nobody sent me, I just... I'm here." You try to tell him.

His eyes frantically searched your body, unable to focus on any specific part of you. His brows furrowed and he swallowed.

"You... you can't see me, can you?"

He shifted to sit on his knees, looking towards your face, not quite able to place where your eyes would be. "I... N-No. You look like a... a blob."

Despite the circumstances, you can't help but laugh. "A blob?"

His brows furrowed and he licked his lips, a healing cut on his bottom one making him wince a little. "...You sound funny too. I can't hear everything you say."

"I can hear you." You replied slowly, inching closer to him as he tried to piece your words together. When he didn't move away, you took it as a good sign, that he was comfortable with you. Or, well, getting there at least.

His little eyes seemed confused, and he pursed his lips. "He... didn't send you?"

"Who's he?" You questioned.

"...A bee?" He asked, his face scrunching up in confusion.

You snort, sighing, "This isn't going to be a flawless method of communication, is it?"

He watched as you scooted to sit next to him, and his body instinctively leaned closer to yours. He was shivering. Cold. You were, too, but... clearly you hadn't spent the night in the woods like he had.

He swallowed deeply, forcing the chatter in his teeth away as best he could; "Y-you're...."

"Who you need me to be." You said resolutely, bringing your arm around his shoulders, tucking him into the warmer shelter of your own body.

He seemed to understand the intentions behind your words, even if he couldn't hear them clearly, sighing as his body sunk into the warmth your body bled for him.

Your hand rubbed his warm softly, and you whispered, "Why is this happening to you? Why does she do this?"

"She hates me." He told you. He didn't need to hear you clearly to know you were asking about her. His mother.

He wiped at his runny nose, sniffling. "It's my fault. I-I did something bad... It's all my fault and she... I didn't mean to do it, I swear!"

You felt your heart lurch painfully in your chest as he started to cry, wrapping both arms around him as you tucked him tighter against you, holding his head against your chest to let him cry into your shirt.

"I deserve it. I'm... I'm a bad person. I... I'm..."

Those words made you want to scream, but you kept your voice in check as you pet his hair to soothe him as best you could.

"You're not a bad person." You told him softly, kissing the top of his head as he held onto you. "You're just a boy. Who's hurting, being hurt. It doesn't make you bad. It makes you a victim."

You didn't care if he heard all of what you said to him, but you prayed he understood what you meant by the feeling in your voice as you said them.

He lifts his head to look at you, disheveled, scared, and confused. The bruises and cuts on his lip make your heart hurt and burn with the desire to get your hands on that monstrous bitch of a woman he calls mother.

His smaller hand grasps at one of yours desperately and he holds it to his cheek, desperate for more gentle touches; as if they would soothe the aches and pains left behind even when the wounds had healed and bruises had faded. His sleeve rises up and your eyes trace the faint mark of... of a flower. You couldn't tell what kind, as the bud hadn't bloomed, but...

No, it wasn't time to focus on that right now. He needed comfort. He needed you.

You sat there, unsure of how much time had passed in your little dream sequence, before he finally spoke up again. His voice was softer, this time:

"You can't do this anymore."

"What?" You blinked at him in shock. You even had to shake your head to make sure you hadn't knocked something lose somehow.

He pulled back from you, and stood up, backing away from you.

"You can't keep finding me." He says, tears welling up in his eyes once again. "I'll hurt you, too."

"Wait!" You say, reaching out for him, your heart breaking yet again as he stepped further out of reach. "What's your name?"

"I don't want to hurt you, too... not you..." He sobs softly, clenching his fists before he runs away.

You are barely able to let out a scream before the earth opens up and swallows you whole; and everything goes black.

Chapter 14: Link

[foxyanon]

Zahkriisos

Summary: No summary, just notes. So for those who don’t know anything about Skyrim, I’m going to give a simple overview of a few things. The Dragonborn is essentially (in its most basic form) a hero of legend. Hermaeus Mora is a Daedric Prince (kind of like a demon) and his realm of Oblivion (kind of like hell) is Apocraphya (he’s know for being a hoarder of knowledge, hence the book named world). The title of the story gets its name from a dragon priest mask, which means Bloody Sword or Sword-Blood.

Pairing: Cultist!Masema x Dragonborn!Reader

Word Count: 2772

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

TW: Implied smut, blood, mentions of death, Dragonborn is a Breton but no other descriptors used, religious references

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Wheel of Time or The Elder Scrolls nor do I own any of the images used.

Dividers by @arcielee

Masema had been found on the shores of Solstheim by the Skaal, having washed ashore after a bad storm ravaged the island a couple years ago. He had foggy memories of his life before, but he did know he was a warrior and not from here. He was taken in by the Skaal shaman, Storn Crag-Strider, and nursed back to health, so he felt he owed it to the old man to stay and help out as needed. Even though he never felt connected to the All-Maker the way everyone else in the village did, he was still respectful of the religion and the culture. Even though he wasn’t born of the people, they still treated him like one of their own which is why the shaman decided he should help protect the pilgrims during their pilgrimage to the All-Makers stones. It was to be a long journey, one that would take months as the stones were scattered across Solstheim’s landscape.

It was at the Beast Stone, just beyond the borders of Thirsk Mead Hall, where he felt his lord’s presence for the first time. They had traveled to all the other stones and this was the last one before they would return to the village, something Masema was grateful for as he was tired of living on the road. It’s not that he didn’t enjoy spending time in nature, but the northern part of the island was all snow and ice which meant it was really fucking cold all the time. He was standing guard over the camp when he heard Lord Miraak’s voice call out from the stone before he was enthralled, the entire party starting to chant about the return of the Dragonborn and erecting shrines to their new overlord. Masema followed the orders of Miraak, first through entrapment and then of his own free will as it was the closest he had felt to any divine being in his entire existence.

As the Cult of Miraak grew, he moved through the ranks and eventually was the one giving orders to the new recruits from the Temple of Miraak. When rumors of another Dragonborn reached his ears, Miraak had given the command for Masema to send people to eliminate the ‘false Dragonborn’ in Skyrim and upon proof of their death, he would be rewarded. At first he sent out some recruits who were eager to prove their loyalty, but when they didn’t return, he started to get suspicious. There were reports of what this mysterious person was capable of, claiming they could slay dragons single-handed and were currently one of the more well known adventurers of the land. After the third attempt at killing this person, Masema started sending the more skilled men and women. After eight months of failure and many dead worshippers, Masema was well and truly pissed. If he wasn’t needed at the Temple, he’d go out and handle business himself but that just wasn’t possible right now. Preparations for the return of Miraak to the island took priority, so he resigned himself to sending another small group in the hopes this thorn in his side would finally be dealt with.

It was another cold day in the temple when Masema heard the most wonderful news. The other Dragonborn had sailed from Skyrim and was currently at Raven Rock, thanks to none other than Gjaland Salt-Sage, the same ship captain he “persuaded” to send the cultists to Skyrim originally. He even learned that the secretive person was a Breton, but no name was ever revealed to him. He thought things were finally looking up and that he’d be able to deliver the body of the false one to his lord, but how seldom does the fantasy match the reality.

As it turns out, this mysterious creature was working with the Skaal to remove Lord Miraak’s influence from the island. Somehow, on one of his trips away to check on a few things at the Earth Stone, this infuriating Breton got into the temple, killed all the cultists there and stole the Black Book from its pedestal. The nerve of that foreigner to desecrate sacred ground really solidified his resentment for them. Masema decided to take matters into his own hands and search out the defiler on his own, swearing to his lord he would handle matters before he set off in search of his target. Naturally, of course, this would be a monumental task as he would have to be careful to avoid the people he once called friends and his elusive prey seemed to be a master of hiding in plain sight. The only identifying thing about them other than the full set of ebony armor was the mask they wore, the ebony metal hiding them from the world. He recognized it as Zahkriisos, the mask of the dragon priest that was buried in Blodskal Barrow, an old Nordic ruin north of Raven Rock.

He tracked his query across all the island, but they were always one step ahead of him. With the help of Frea, Storn’s daughter, they slowly but surely cleansed the stones and cut off Miraak from speaking with any of his worshippers. After the second to last stone was cleansed and the false one had obtained all of the Black Books, Masema knew he needed to return to the temple and try to defend the last stone. It was here that he heard his lord’s voice for what would be the last time, telling him that all was as it should be and that his destiny was to battle the Dragonborn at the summit of Apocrypha. Lord Miraak claimed that the fate that had been chosen for him would come to pass and that he was pleased with the loyalty and devotion Masema had shown him.

It was here that Masema was waiting for them, standing in front of the Tree Stone in his robes and mask, the last member of a once strong cult. He saw the Dragonborn glide down the hall, their cloak flowing behind them and the mask covering their face as well. He tried to determine the identity of the Dragonborn, but their armor covered them from head to toe, the ebony metal muted in appearance and fitted in the most generic of ways. The soft clanking of their boots on the stone echoed down the hall and into the chamber he occupied, steadily getting louder the closer they got. When they finally stopped several feet away, the tension was palpable as they sized the other up.

For a moment, they both stood there and stared at each other in silence, the weight of their respective destinies entwining with one another in the space between them. He noticed they traveled alone, the Black Book in their hands as they prepared for the final battle against Miraak. There was an energy that clung to them and their armor, the kind that only the favored of the gods could possess and that gave him pause. He found he had no desire to fight them, the futility of their situation coming into focus for him. He could not prevent their destiny from playing out, but he could choose whether he be another body for them or to stand aside and live another day. He chose the latter.

”I will not interfere with what fate has decreed. I shall watch over your spirit as you do what you must,” Masema stepped off to the side, head bowed slightly as he addressed the Dragonborn. The only response he received was a simple nod before the masked warrior opened the book, the tentacles of Hermaeus Mora bursting from the enchanted pages, wrapping around their form and pulling them into Oblivion with a sickeningly green flash of light. All that remained of the mysterious Breton was a spectral image, one that offered no insight to the identity of the physical person.

After what felt like an eternity of pacing back and forth in front of the stone, the book came alive and unceremoniously spit the body of the Dragonborn back out. Masema was startled at the sudden appearance, until he saw the blood dripping from a wound on their side and off their blade onto the stone ground beneath them. There was a new crack in the mask, their shoulders heaving as they pant in an attempt to catch a breath. No words needed to be said, Miraak was dead and the victor returned to the land of the living.

Wordlessly, Masema helped them up, careful not to agitate the wound as the two staggered down the dank halls of the crumbling temple. The walk to the old medical room passed in silence, the sounds of footsteps and heavy breathing bouncing off the stone walls with a soft echo. He helped the Dragonborn onto a wooden cot draped with furs before wandering towards the shelves in search of healing herbs or potions. He hears the telltale signs of the wounded Breton removing their armor, the sounds of metal and leather hitting the ground while his back is turned. When he turns around after having found a single healing potion amidst the disorganized shelf, he nearly drops the glass vial when he sees the Dragonborn for the first time.

He’s surprised to see a woman sitting on the cot, a thin wound bleeding from her hairline and the once pristine linen tunic sticking to her torso, the gash on her side bloodying the fabric. He was frozen in place, her eyes capturing his and the smirk gracing her lips indicating she is used to such behaviors. She holds her hand out, waiting for Masema to hand her the potion he holds. Even though her injuries look serious, she doesn’t push or taunt him, simply being patient as he collects his thoughts. With a shaky breath, Masema closes the distance and hands her the vial, watching as she downs it in one. He’s so caught up in being in front of such beauty that when she speaks, it startles him.

”What is your name?” She asks simply, her voice soft as she lifts her tunic and gets a look at her injury. She lifts her hand, a warm light emitting from her fingers and wrapping itself around her like an aura as she casts a healing spell that closes the wound better than any stitching. Masema watches a little starstruck as the woman literally glows for a moment, forgetting she had asked a question. When she raises a brow at him, he blushes furiously and swallows hard, having been caught gawking at her.

He clears his throat and looks at the ground, grateful for his mask hiding his face from her. “My name is Masema, Dragonborn,” he spoke quietly, fidgeting with his gloves and taking a few steadying breaths.

”A pleasure to meet you, Masema,” she gave him her name and he tasted it on his tongue, finding that the name suited her beautifully. “Would you mind if I asked your story? You are the only cultist who hasn’t attacked me outright and I’m curious as to why.”

He nodded in agreement and they proceeded to talk for hours, the candles burning low by the time they finished. She listened to his story, no judgment or anger in her eyes when he told her the truth of his involvement with Miraak. About halfway through, Masema felt comfortable enough to remove his mask and the act of trust made her smile, something so minor but it made his heart beat a little faster.

After she decided needed to leave the ruins to find food and clean up, Masema found himself unwilling to leave her side. He followed behind her after she got dressed again, letting her lead the way through the labyrinth of halls. Once outside, they both breathed in the cold fresh air, a far cry more refreshing than the stale air inside the temple. He hesitated as she started off in the direction of Thirsk, wanting to stay with her but unsure if she would want that. He looked around at the landscape, trying to gather the words to ask, but she beat him to the punch.

She was stopped several feet away, Zahkriisos held loosely in her hands at her side as the sun shone brightly behind her. ”Masema, how would you like to adventure with me?” Her question offered him the choice to walk away, but when she was looking at him like that, he couldn’t resist accepting her offer. He’d follow her to the end, to the very halls of Sovngarde and beyond if she’d let him.

She smiled and nodded, looking out over the horizon before turning and continuing on her journey. Masema breathed a sigh of relief, a smile on his face as he looked at the yellow mask in his hands. It was a symbol, a reminder of a life he was no longer living. With a sigh, he left his mask on the stone steps of the now deserted place he once called home, leaving behind one life and eagerly walking towards the next.

Masema had been traveling with the Dragonborn for several months now and he learned a lot about this woman in that time, like the reasons his assassination attempts never worked. For starters, she was the leader of half the guilds in the damned kingdom. He also learned that she only used her respective titles when outright doing business for them and wore different masks when dealing with the general population, only a select handful of her closest allies knowing her name. He practically swooned upon learning she had trusted him enough to know her identity, even more when he discovered through a friend of hers that she rarely kept traveling companions for more than a few weeks. Apparently this was to help maintain her secrecy, but since he had proven himself to be trustworthy and loyal to her, she kept him by her side.

His life finally had purpose again, serving and protecting her on their travels having made him realize that Miraak was a fraud, using his divinely given powers to assert dominion over the people he was meant to protect. Whenever he felt shame for his past actions, she was right there to tell him that his future doesn’t need to be weighed down by the consequences of the past. She did, however, prevent him from falling down the same path of reverence he once showed Miraak, claiming that she had no desire to be worshiped by the masses and that history wasn’t kind to those who sought such power. Even if she wouldn't have a following like her predecessor, Masema had no qualms being wholly devoted to her. He found her desire to aid everyone, even the poor and displaced, inspiring. It’s no surprise her kindness towards him and everyone else had him falling in love with her.

It was during one of their adventures, camped somewhere in Whiterun Hold under the stars and two moons of Nirn, when he finally confessed his feelings to her. He had felt nervous, his palms sweaty and avoiding her gaze as he stared into the small campfire. When he heard her get up and walk over to him, he finally dared to look up at her and was shocked to see her hand outstretched towards him, a silent request to take it as she stood there in the low light of the fire. He placed his hand in hers, standing up and following her towards their shared tent, his breathing uneven as she pulled him along behind her.

No words were said, their lips finding the others in the darkness of the tent and hands pulling at laces and straps of their garments. Masema laid her back on her bedroll, taking his time to learn her body even if he couldn’t see it. His fingers traced over old scars, his lips following close behind. He licked, kissed and bit her skin, leaving physical marks on her the same way she had done to his soul. He doesn’t know how long they stayed wrapped in each other, just know that it wasn’t nearly long enough. They fell asleep in each other’s arms, the sounds of her soft breathing as she rested her head on his chest the most wonderful thing he thought he’d ever experienced. Masema sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Creator and the Divines for giving him a chance to find redemption, feeling a sense of certainty spread through his veins at the idea of aiding the true chosen of Akatosh.

Taglist: @valeskafics @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @whitedarkmoonflower @gemini-mama @alexagirlie @thenameswinter99 @mrsarnasdelicious @synintheraven

[outofangband]

Birds of Thargelion

After this I just have Maglor’s Gap and that will complete my series on birds in the Fëanorian realms pre Amon Ereb!

Flora, fauna, geography and environment of Arda Masterlist

Thargelion was the realm of Caranthir, located in the north east of Beleriand just north of Ossiriand and bordered by the Ered Luin, the eastern stretch of mountains that divided Beleriand from the rest of Middle Earth

As always this is not a definitive list! Please feel free to ask more or give me a more specific category!

Around Lake Helevorn and the rivers: Red-breasted merganser, mute swan, white tailed dipper, whooper swan, smew, little grebe, red throated loon, common crane, mallard, common white eye, northern shovler, green winged teal, corn crake, spotted crake, black winged stilt

Mountains: bearded vulture, water pipit, golden eagle, kestrel, peregrine falcon, Rock ptarmigan, common siskin, alpine accentor, northern wheatear, ring ouzel, white tailed eagle, chough, spotted nutcracker, Citril finch, griffon vulture, common redstart, common raven, wallcreeper, common jay, boreal owl, white winged snowfinch, crag martin, common redstart, black redstart

Foothills and forests: black grouse, wood grouse, goshawk, grey white fronted goose, hazel grouse, little bunting, meadow pipit, tree sparrow, hedge warbler, Bohemian waxwing, common kestrel, long eared owl, little owl, marsh tit, coal tit, mourning dove, rock pigeon, woodchat strike

World building notes

-Like most of the Noldor in Eastern Beleriand, many of Caranthir’s scouts keep birds of prey. In Thargelion these are primarily peregrine falcons and kestrels. Hunting with birds was less common however.

--There are populations of Green Elves who live in Thargelion, primarily in the mountains and near the border of Ossiriand. Though they also do not use birds for hunting, certain species are kept as companions or messengers.

-Chicken breeding as an art and science developed during the Watchful Peace. Chickens in Thargelion are appraised for long plumage and colorful feathers. Their eggs are eaten but they are not often used for meat.

-Chickens, peacocks and quails were kept by the Noldor of Thargelion, techniques of raising and breeding them were learned from Sindar and Silvan cultures of Eastern Beleriand. Indeed the Noldor of Thargelion were one of the only Noldor populations to keep quails.

-Bearded vultures appear on the crests of some of Caranthir’s lords and were even kept by a few of them

-Feathers of various mountain birds especially eagles and ouzel appear in wood carvings as an architectural motif during the Watchful Peace in Thargelion

-Out of all the Fëanorian realms, water birds appear most often in art and other cultural references in Thargelion as Lake Helevorn and its wildlife are a central facet of life there especially in times of peace. Wading birds like crakes, cranes and stilts are especially Valued.

[dee-the-red-witch]

Ok, @mimicgender was so IMMEDIATE oin yelling at me to record this one, so I had to go for it, along with a bonus track as well. So,above, the intro cinematic monologue from The Darkest Dungeon:

Ruin has come to our family. You remember our venerable house, opulent and imperial. Gazing proudly from its stoic perch above the moor. I lived all my years in that ancient, rumor-shadowed manor. Fattened by decadence and luxury. And yet, I began to tire of conventional extravagance. Singular, unsettling tales suggested the mansion itself was a gateway to some fabulous and unnamable power. With relic and ritual, I bent every effort towards the excavation and recovery of those long-buried secrets, exhausting what remained of our family fortune on swarthy workmen and sturdy shovels. At last, in the salt-soaked crags beneath the lowest foundations we unearthed that damnable portal of antediluvian evil. Our every step unsettled the ancient earth but we were in a realm of death and madness! In the end, I alone fled laughing and wailing through those blackened arcades of antiquity. Until consciousness failed me. You remember our venerable house, opulent and imperial. It is a festering abomination! I beg you, return home, claim your birthright, and deliver our family from the ravenous clutching shadows of the Darkest Dungeon.

went with mixed voice for both of these instead of full femme, because, well, LOOK AT THAT PURPLED PROSE that shit is hard to hit in a higher pitch and I'm already fighting the urge to drop to Wayne June's pitch out of habit.

[ds30below]

shade_nightwalker's old fic finds

Crossposted from Dreamwidth with permission

Reclist post at ds-ficminers.

"Happy 30 Below history week!

I've been digging through the archived Hexwood sites, and found some more stories not available on AO3."

Mod addition: bear in mind that this is a masterlist, not a reclist, and some of the stories on it are very of their time. Due to its length and different tagging conventions (or lack thereof) at the time, I haven't been able to tag this post comprehensively.

Amber: I Dream of Bennie

Cheryl Barnes: Peaches and Creme

Katrina Bowen: Someone to Watch Over Me

Compass aka mnemosyne23: Solitude My Guide

Corrinne aka Cassandra Hope: Healing Love Home Life 2: The Neighbors Nicholas' Story Pancakes for Breakfast Teaching Mom the Computer

Miriam Elizabeth Cooper: A Drop of Golden Sun

Catalina Dudka: The Bet - or Baking Cookies with the Kitchen Challenged

Diana Leigh Edwards: A Mountain Crag Left

Kari Eissinger aka Cheezhed aka Dueser: A Cop, Two Mounties and A Baby Confessions Iraqi Dream I Wear The Uniform Jack's Day Possessive Obsessions (Obsessions 1) Rescued From The Ashes Road Trip To Hell (Obsessions 3) Slipping Through My Fingers (Obsessions 4) The Room Without A View Time To Heal (Obsessions 2) To The Death You Can Never go Back

elaine: Things Change

Ffand aka Harriet Vane: Two To To Victoria Returns

Sharon Gillson: Coming Home You Will Always Have Friends

Leslie Goodwin: Chicago Heat

Barbara Griffith: The Dreaming

Janet Horsman aka Janet Lawrence: Upheaval

maria jackson: I wanna kiss ya in Paris, Ben

Chris Lark: Let's Stay Engaged

Gilda Lily aka BradyGirl_12: Under the Christmas Tree

Marie-Andrée: Any Excuse to Burst into Song Be Strong for Me Not Easy Sometimes

Maya: Due North

mohairbear: Nosebleed

Silvia Mosca: Train of thoughts

Cate North: Fallen For All That's Lost If The Shoe Fits... Neige

Pollytiks: A Self-Contained Woman The Adventures of Margaret and Frannie The Adventures of Meg & Ben....oh, and Ray too, of course! The Button Casting Out Demons The Evidence For The Love Of Margaret A Luv Pome Snowblind Toggle Heart The Train

Karin Ransdell: Blessed Are the Peacemakers Golden Feather (Sequel to Meadows of Heaven) Meadows of Heaven We Ourselves The Week's Second Sunday

The Raven aka estellarose: Lucky Chance (A New Perspective 1) Savior Xenophobia (A New Perspective 2)

Diana Read: Afterbath

Caroline von Trott: An Ordinary Stake-out Realizations

Laura Trout aka mrs_fish: Dreams Really Do Come True

Alberta Skies: Conceived In An Igloo, Born In A Barn (complete!) Reality Found (complete!)

Dee Smith aka Wolfwalker: Bitter Winds Bitter Nights Bitter Sweet Bitter Thaw Bitter Pause Bitter Ground Bitter Dreams Twenty Four Hours Two Poems

Lee Sterling: The Victims No One Knows

Elizabeth Vecchio: Fool in Love

Shinz Wong: Going Home

unknown: Chicago Passage Dream Catcher Flowers for Ceila No Love Lost Story You Know How it is With Mounties...

Welmach: Independence Day On the Edge

[ormir]

@blightedmikhael location: on the road to Nornwatch, some weeks ago

Emerging from the birthing canals of the mountains was hardly the deliverance Iskaldrik’s people had hoped for. The light they’d yearned for was blinding and flesh-scalding as it reflected off the hardened snow. The air here formed in heavy, violent bursts that split lips and knuckles. The land stretched on into an unending wasteland rarely punctuated by trees or the odd jut of volcanic rock. The caravans shambled through the Stygian badlands, feet falling heavier and stomachs growing louder with every wagon wheel’s rotation.

The night was lethally cold, so camp was made early before the sun could slip the leash on them. A cluster of camp fires spit high in the air, their smoke channels buffered by the shiplike crag the Witchers had found refuge in. The interim king squirmed in its shadow. At least on the plains we’d be able to see danger coming. Worries soon to be surrendered to exhaustion. Ormir attempted to warm himself by a fire, fighting to undo the cold, even as it gorged on the remaining sensation in his extremities. The mead, what little they had left of it, was a necessary balm for the pain. He drank deep, and lowered his cup to find that a flickering figure had manifested on the other side of the flames. Beneath its layers, light struck upon armor of a make Ormir did not recognize.

Alarms immediately bellowed between his ears. An assassin? After a hair of thought, he shrugged the foolish notion off. Every second before the badlands would have provided an easier mark. He searched for the Guild’s heron brand on the stranger’s blade, but stopped short as he didn’t find a weapon to search on. An odd, conspicuous kind of mercenary?

The Raven-feeder closed the distance to investigate further. His fingers brushed the reassurance of his hatchets nestled at either hip. “You’re a long way from home, are you not?” Ormir started, congenially. Just another lost soul sharing purgatory. “You must have earned the wrath of a wicked god to have been sucked into all this.”

[asongofgoldenfireandblackblood]

Wanted Site Connection:

home — navigate — wanted — discord — apply — directory — faq

We are No-Dance!AU and politics, family, and court-drama focused RP. To join, check out our main site, and find out who our court would like to see on our Most Wanted page, send us a raven with any questions and once you're ready to apply, and then join us for plotting and OOC-Chat on our Discord!!

Tyshara is particularly wanted by her older sister Lady Cerelle Lannister, as well as by Joss Westerling, Lady Ellyn Baratheon, Toron Greyjoy, Lysa Farman, Lord Dalton Greyjoy, and Teora Grafton

Note: Character traits, faceclaim, and details are suggestions and can be reworked to a certain extent if discussed with the current members of the RP!

Character Biography Under the Cut

The second daughter of Lord Jason and Lady Johanna, Tyshara is 17, and betrothed to her cousin, the 19 year old Joss Westerling, Lord Roland Westerling's grandson and heir to The Crag. However, after years of an amicable but dispassionate betrothal and unhappy fostership at The Crag, Tyshara struck up a whirlwind romance with Rodrik Greyjoy, the second son of Lord Dalton, during both of their attendances to Court for Queen Rhaenyra's coronation. Now half a year on, Rodrik has made his intentions clear to court her properly now he is officially the heir to Fair Isle, and Tyshara for her part, declaring she'll break her betrothal to Joss to see it happen, and even follow in the footsteps of many a Lady before her who joined Rodrik's father, to marry him in spite of her father's for the pursuit of their own passions. As proficient of an event planner as she is an indulgent partier, with a well renowned singing voice, and a love for fashion to outmatch even her eldest sister and closest friend, Lady Cerelle, Tyshara has been praised as persuasive, alluring, and vehement, though many whisper she also has a hedonistic, opportunistic, and decadent nature. Suggested faceclaim: Imogen Waterhouse in The Buccaneers

[nateconnolly]

No more she threatened, but she fixed the horns of a great stag firm on Actaeon's sprinkled brows; she lengthened out his neck; she made his ears sharp at the top; she changed his hands and feet; made long legs of his arms, and covered him with dappled hair—his courage turned to fear. The brave son of Autonoe took to flight, and marveled that he sped so swiftly on.—

he saw his horns reflected in a stream and would have said, “Ah, wretched me!” but now he had no voice, and he could only groan: large tears ran trickling down his face, transformed in every feature.—Yet, as clear remained his understanding, and he wondered what he should attempt to do: should he return to his ancestral palace, or plunge deep in vast vacuities of forest wilds? Fear made him hesitate to trust the woods, and shame deterred him from his homeward way.

While doubting thus his dogs espied him there: first Blackfoot and the sharp nosed Tracer raised the signal: Tracer of the Gnossian breed, and Blackfoot of the Spartan: swift as wind the others followed. Glutton, Quicksight, Surefoot, three dogs of Arcady; then valiant Killbuck, Tempest, fierce Hunter, and the rapid Wingfoot; sharp-scented Chaser, and Woodranger wounded so lately by a wild boar; savage Wildwood, the wolf-begot with Shepherdess the cow-dog; and ravenous Harpy followed by her twin whelps; and thin-girt Ladon chosen from Sicyonia; racer and Barker, brindled Spot and Tiger; sturdy old Stout and white haired Blanche and black Smut lusty big Lacon, trusty Storm and Quickfoot; active young Wolfet and her Cyprian brother black headed Snap, blazed with a patch of white hair from forehead to his muzzle; swarthy Blackcoat and shaggy Bristle, Towser and Wildtooth, his sire of Dicte and his dam of Lacon; and yelping Babbler: these and others, more than patience leads us to recount or name.

All eager for their prey the pack surmount rocks, cliffs and crags, precipitous—where paths are steep, where roads are none. He flies by routes so oft pursued but now, alas, his flight is from his own!—He would have cried, “Behold your master!—It is I—Actaeon!” Words refused his will. The yelping pack pressed on. First Blackmane seized and tore his master's back, Savage the next, then Rover's teeth were clinched deep in his shoulder.—These, though tardy out, cut through a by-path and arriving first clung to their master till the pack came up.

The whole pack fastened on their master's flesh till place was none for others. Groaning he made frightful sounds that not the human voice could utter nor the stag; and filled the hills with dismal moans; and as a suppliant fell down to the ground upon his trembling knees; and turned his stricken eyes on his own dogs, entreating them to spare him from their fangs.

[courtfallen]

// multi-muse blog for @ofcourtfables !

There is a terror more boundless than any beloved deep, more monstrous than the winged ghosts that haunt ancestral black mountains — it is the rippling wind beneath golden wings, my own distorted reflection and the leagues and layers of verglas that hold me fast. — as written by a e r i n . . .

𝔳𝔶𝔯𝔬𝔰 𝔤𝔯𝔞𝔲 ❝ the white raven ❞, general of the armies of winter court. — cismale. he/him. 38 / 380. illyrian/high fae & daemati. intro.

a ribbon of night birds winding around a great mountain, hoarfrost cracking underfoot, the undying glow of embers in the cold dark, velvet black wings stark against the snow

𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔞𝔫 𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔞 𝔳𝔞𝔩𝔡𝔢𝔪𝔞𝔯, owner of poultice & pelt in autumn court. — cisfemale. she/her. 26 / 34. cauldron-made high fae & seer. intro.

the clatter of dry branches in the wind, the sweet smell of rot and fertile earth, searing visions and haunted eyes that see through the fabric of space & time, forever scars refusing to heal in the cauldron's womb

𝔳𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔫 ❝ 𝔳𝔞𝔰𝔱 ❞ 𝔫𝔬𝔠𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔞, right hand of the night court's general. — cismale. he/him. 32 / 320. illyrian/high fae. intro.

a massive black hole taking the blinking stars with it, the comforting sting of isolation and the raise of hackles when it’s breached, a long & lonesome patrol along the garrison wall, dark circles, bitter determinism, and restless nights, the perfect arc of an arrow to the white of his target’s eye

𝔦𝔥𝔰𝔞𝔥𝔫 𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔟𝔬𝔰 𝔡𝔯𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔫, high lord of the night court. — cismale. he/him. 36 / 360. illyrian/high fae. intro.

a once distant world of moonstone blooming and taking shape, the echo of redemption a faraway call, mountain crags and frostbite traded for the warmth of a new beginning, a bastard's wings shadowing an abandoned throne

𝔣𝔢𝔶𝔫 "𝔯𝔬𝔬k" k𝔬𝔳𝔞𝔠𝔰, merc leader/tavern owner in gaea. — cismale. he him. 34/340. high fae/lightsinger. intro.

loose tesserae jingling in a stolen, leather purse, the burn of rebellion in a poor fae's eyes, the stench of the unwashed working class and ale, vision of a world leveled to ash & born anew

[preciouslandmermaid]

of songbirds, swords, and spice (4)

pairing: Opla!Zoro x Opla!Sanji x Fem! Reader (no use of Y/N or L/N)

tw/cw: violence, blood, spider-creatures, see master post for complete tags

🏴‍☠️ read on AO3 🏴‍☠️

(masterpost)

<- (previous chapter)

Zoro stretched his legs out and folded his hands behind his head. Finally, some peace and quiet. Or however much quiet he could get on the Going Merry anyway. He shut his eyes, preparing to get a few hours of sleep before they arrived in Raven’s Crag.

“Mrrow!” Four paws landed on his thigh.

“What the hell?”

The black cat?! Zoro picked the cat up by the scruff and it narrowed its large, yellow eyes at him. A stowaway.

“Aren’t these things bad luck?” He said to no one before moving the fluffy creature off his lap. The cat, who was undeterred and stupidly stubborn, jumped onto his lap again the second he closed his eyes. “Knock it off.”

Zoro scooped it up this time and carried it to the other end of the room, setting it down on a crate, before he returned to his napping spot. The cat swished its tail, watching him, but didn’t move from its new perch.

“Stay over there,” he said. The ocean waves crashed and lapped against the hull of the Going Merry in swelling, gentle surges. He found the sound of the ocean soothing. He could sleep anywhere, it’s true, but there was something about sleeping near water. The crash and surge, the pull and push, the saltwater tinge to the air, and rush of the wind snapping the sails. It created a natural lullaby.

He sighed, tilting his head back, and listening to the waves rather than the cacophony of voices above. Usually, he didn’t have trouble falling asleep, but your voice was new and unfamiliar. He wasn’t sure why the old lady requested that you come along. You were a performer—not a fighter. Just because you managed one battle without vomiting at the sight of a dismembered arm didn’t make you a warrior. Zoro’s eyebrow twitched. What’s her deal anyway? He rolled his shoulders, struggling to get comfortable.

A soft paw batted the side of his head near his earlobe. What the--! The cat’s paw remained aloft – ready to smack his earring again.

Zoro narrowed his eyes. “You again?”

The cat lowered its paw and yawned, showcasing its large canine teeth and angling its ears back. Zoro wasn’t intimidated if that’s what the creature was trying to do. He had a sword. That was more impressive than two big teeth and some claws.

“What do they call you?” He lifted the charm on the cat’s collar. “Mimi?”

The cat gave no indication that it recognized its name.

“You really are bad luck,” he grumbled, “I never have trouble sleeping.” He got to his feet and stretched his arms over his head. “Stay,” he told the cat before ascending the steps to the main deck.

The sunlight refracted across the rolling blue waves and Zoro lifted his arm to block the harsh light.

“Can you sing a sea shanty?” Luffy asked you.

“Can you write a song about me?” Usopp asked, looking hopeful. Zoro rolled his eyes...These kids.

Sanji said, “What about a love ballad?”

You crossed your arms and pressed your lips into a line. This silence didn’t deter them. The trio of Luffy, Sanji, and Usopp requested different songs simultaneously. 

“Would you guys cut it out!” Nami yelled over them, “She already said she doesn’t want to!”

Zoro rested his wrist on Wado Ichimonji and decided he might as well ask the question that’s been eating at him since the night you met.

“Why do the waiters at your grandmother’s bar wear earplugs?” he asked.

Everyone fell silent. Their attention left Zoro and moved toward you, expecting and awaiting your answer. You narrowed your eyes slightly at him. The sails overhead ballooned with a fresh gust of wind and the ropes swung in the breeze casting shadows like long, wiggling snakes on the main deck.

You said, “You noticed that, huh?”

“It was hard to miss.” Zoro deadpanned.

Your smile tugged at your mouth. “And yet I recall having your complete attention.”

Zoro stepped forward. “That’s what I’m still trying to figure out,” he said, “so what’s your deal?”

You shrugged, graceful and casual, like you two were discussing sword forms and not the mystery of your grandmother’s bar.

“The bar gets rowdy,” you replied.

“That’s what I said,” Luffy said, his tone was bright.

The bar gets rowdy? Yeah, right. Zoro stared down at you. The sunlight burned radiance across the planes and slopes of your face. She’s lying. You had to be. Your explanation was lukewarm and it didn’t account for the strange, solitary sensations that consumed him during your performance. Your performance and the earplugs had to be related somehow. He just couldn’t figure out how.

Usopp glanced between you and Zoro.

“Come on, guys,” Usopp said, “let’s stay focused. We’re finding a mysterious lost treasure for someone.”

“I’ll make lunch,” Sanji suggested, before saying your name and adding, “I’d love your help in the kitchen.”

“No thanks. I’m gonna stretch my legs,” you announced and offered Usopp and Sanji a smile. “I’ve gotta get used to being out on the sea again.”

Zoro watched you walk to the other end of the ship. She’s not getting off that easily. He waited about three seconds before following after you.

“Hey,” he began, narrowing his eyes at your back. You sighed, leaning against the railing, but didn’t turn around to face him. “If you double cross our crew…”

You looked over your shoulder. “You’re gonna slice me in half?”

Zoro scoffed. “I was thinking in quarters.”

You turned to face him, though your elbows remained on the railing, your pose was relaxed and wholly nonthreatening. Zoro’s pulse throbbed in his neck.

“You have nothing to worry about, Roronoa Zoro.” The salty air played with the collar of your shirt and Zoro looked away, clenching his jaw. “This crew saved the golden cupid...and if we manage to find Pandora’s puzzle box...then there will always be a warm meal and a cold drink for you at Estella’s.”

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. Maybe he was being paranoid after their run-in with the Black Cat pirates or their altercation with Arlo’s gang after Nami’s abrupt betrayal. He didn’t want to get double-crossed, although he couldn’t see the benefit of you – or the old hag – trying to betray them.

“Fine,” he said flatly.

Maybe now I can get some shut-eye…The thought reminded him of the cat, Mimi, stalking around in his room.

“By the way,” he said, “that cat is onboard.”

You laughed. “Oh, of course she is.” You shook your head, “I’ll let Sanji know. Maybe he can make her some tuna.”

“Feeding your cat isn’t part of this deal,” he grumbled, annoyed. First, the cat took over his nap spot and ruined his afternoon and now she’d eat some of their supplies? What sort of bullshit was this?

“One,” you said holding up a finger, “she’s Estella’s cat. Two.” You held up a second finger. “It’s not really up to you, is it? I think I’ll take it up with the chef and see what he says.”

Zoro didn’t have a good argument against you, so he settled on rolling his eyes and returning to his bunk to get some well-deserved rest before the Merry reached Raven’s Crag.

The dingy swayed as it pushed through the shallow waves and your stomach followed the roiling, uncertain motions of the waters below. Something didn’t feel right. You would normally chalk it up to your baseline paranoia around strangers—but...your unease went deeper. Maybe all the stories about Raven’s Crag were getting to you. Everyone on the island said Raven’s Crag was dangerous, some even went so far as to call it cursed. ‘That’s why no one lives there’, they’d say before ordering another drink from the bar. What if something happened to Estella back home? Was paranoia or intuition that twisted your stomach into sailor’s knots? You shook your head and tried to clear your mind. One thing at a time...

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” Sanji said, sitting beside you and looking pointedly at your bouncing knee. “We’ll find it.”

“If it exists,” you said.

“Madame Estella seemed certain it was here,” he said.

“Yes.” You sighed. “Yes, I know.”

Estella left a rather important detail from her story when she told the Straw Hats about Pandora’s treasure. Over the past five years, it had been you who helped her to find and collect the other boxes. The jade box had been the first and the easiest. You used your devil fruit powers, beguiling the previous owner, and tricking him into giving it to Estella. The onyx box, however, was kept on a marine base within the evidence room under lock and key. You and Estella spent nine months on that island, working your way into the upper echelon of society until General Samuel Bellamy invited several wealthy citizens for brunch. You and Estella had barely made it out after accidentally triggering the alarm when removing Pandora’s box. The last box in her collection, the one made of lapis lazuli, had been underwater in a shipwreck.

Truly, it was a miracle that Estella knew about any of their locations, but that one was especially surprising. You were useless since the ocean sapped all of your strength, but Estella had smiled at you before diving into the waters. Your hands curled into fists on your lap. The current had been strong that day...a storm was on the horizon and the ocean was restless, hungry.

Sanji muttered your name. His gaze burned into your cheek.

“We made it,” Nami announced, shaking you from your reverie.

The tepid saltwater and sand rushed into your shoes and clung to your shins as you leaped from the dingy and helped push the boat onto the shore as best as you could. The palm trees rustled loudly overhead. Your foot snagged against the dry, powdery white sand.

“What’s—” Zoro began one hand on his sword hilt.

“Wait,” you said, snapping your attention from the boat’s edge in your hands and toward the beautiful blue sky. “That’s not—”

Your words were cut off as a hundred screeching calls filled the air and their enormous black wings flapped, upset the palm leaves, and stirred the dry brush at the beachhead. Roughly a dozen, giant ravens descended upon the crew, their beaks open wide to reveal rows of tiny teeth, and their eyes glossy and bright and murderous.

You reached for your kusarigama—a sickle attached to a metal chain with an iron weight at the end — attached to your hip. You hadn’t used the weapon since settling on Nightingale, but you practiced the motions and your continued diligence paid off as you slid into a stance and spun the end of the chain.

A raven opened its’ beak and lunged for Nami, and you launched the weighted end toward the raven. The chain spun around the raven’s beak, closing it, and you tugged—the metal biting into the flesh of your fingers—forcing the beast to bow its head. Nami’s staff cracked the side of the bird’s head and you tugged the chain free, pulling up the slack, after the creature dropped. You could hardly keep track of everyone’s movements through the chaos of undulating black wings and sharp, curved black beaks and curled talons.

Zoro’s sword flashed beneath the sunlight, blood, and dark feathers followed.

Your body ached, familiar with the movements ingrained into the grooves of your muscles, but unfamiliar with fighting things that fought back (your usual enemies were coconut trees and bamboo). You jumped backward through the powdery sand, avoiding a strike of dangerous talons, and you crashed into the hard and warm muscled plane of Zoro’s back.

“Watch where you’re going,” he growled before pivoting on his heel and using his sword to deflect the beak strike coming toward you.

“I was.”

“Didn’t look like it.”

“How” – your fingers tightened around the kusarigama’s grip– “do you manage to fight with that sword shoved so far up your—”

Luffy yelled, “Gum Gum Punch!” His fist launched through the air and landed squarely into the raven’s rib cage sending the bird sprawling into the sand.

“I had it!” You and Zoro shouted simultaneously at Luffy.

“Sorry,” Luffy said, smiling before he turned his attention to a different raven. “Hey, Sanji!” The captain called out to him, “Do you think we could eat these?”

“You’re seriously thinking about food at a time like this?” Nami asked.

You shook your head and were unable to ignore the smile tugging at your lips. This crew is so fucking weird, you thought with a foreign flutter of affection. You brought another raven to eye-level by trapping its beak with your chain and Sanji roundhouse kicked it, knocking your chain free, where it seemed to float in the air for a second before you yanked it back toward you.

The final two ravens squawked, and took flight in a blur of sand and wings, leaving their fallen on the beach scattered among the crew. You wrapped the chain, secured your kusarigama at your hip, and flexed your sore, unpracticed fingers. You scanned the beach and pointed at an outcropping of gray rocks.

“That’s the crag,” you said. You looked at their sweaty faces and bit your lip. “Estella could be wrong,” you warned, “the box might not be there.” She had never been wrong before, but they didn’t need to know that.

“We won’t know until we get there,” said Luffy, walking toward the crag. You wiped the sweat from your face and sighed. There is no swaying Luffy from his destined path, is there? You almost admired his bullheaded tenacity. Almost.

Your hands pulsed, your blood throbbing, your knuckles scraped raw, and nails blunted from climbing up onto the crag. You pulled yourself up the final ledge, each breath laborious, and laid yourself flat against the hot stone. Your salivating mouth tasted metallic and unpleasant. Sanji squatted next to you, and his shadow spilled across your face and blocked the sun.

“Here,” he said, offering you a small flask.

“Water or booze?” you asked.

His lips quirked. “Water.”

“Shame.”

You took a small sip of the water before holding it out to him.

Sanji lifted his hand. “Keep it.”

You raised an eyebrow and bit your tongue to stop yourself from questioning or quipping at him. You were starting to understand that Sanji enjoyed providing for others. He cooked because he believed no one should go hungry, but he also had a true and burning passion for it. He gave you water because you needed it. There was no ulterior motive. No secret to unravel. He was just providing for you as he would provide for anyone on the crew. Not that I’m part of this crew, but the sentiment still counts.

“Thanks,” you finally said, standing.

Luffy stood before the great, black maw of a cave’s entrance with his hands on his hips.

“This is the place, right?” he asked, looking over his shoulder toward you.

“I think so,” you said. In your experience, Pandora’s treasure box locations increased in difficulty over time: a marine base, a shipwreck, and now deep within a cavernous network. You looked at this crew of oddballs, at the scuffs, bruises, and blood they spilled fighting the ravens and climbing the cliffside. I can do it alone. The warm breeze kissed your skin and the bright blue ocean crested with tiny, white waves along the shore below. I’m the one who Estella trusts. They got me here, but they don’t need to see this through.

“We’ve made it this far together, but you can turn back now,” you said, “I don’t want anyone dying for this.”

Luffy frowned. “Only you?”

Your heart dropped. His stark, honest words had momentarily stunned you.

“What?” you breathed.

“Don’t be stupid,” Zoro muttered, “we just fought a bunch of demon birds. There’s no way we’re turning back now.”

“I think she’s got a point,” Usopp said, “one of us should really be waiting on the ship. I volunteer.”

“It’s dangerous,” Luffy continued as if the others hadn’t spoken, “so you’d rather go in there alone and die alone?”

“It’s a wild goose chase, Luffy.” You crossed your arms.

“It’s her dream!” he said, “don’t you have a dream you want to accomplish?”

“My dream is impossible.” You bristled. Your dream wasn’t a treasure hunt, nor was it to become the best of something or the queen of the pirates. Your dream was a fantasy you repeated to keep your nightmares quiet. Your dream would never see fruition. It just couldn’t.

“There’s no such thing,” Luffy said while approaching you. His hand lifted, palm dropping toward your shoulder, and you moved out of the way at the last second. Luffy stumbled at the sudden lack of counter-balance and you grimaced.

You said, “I don’t like being touched.”

Sanji tilted his head to the side.

“Oh, sorry.” Luffy’s tone was earnest. “Whatever your dream is, I think you should go after it.”

You squinted at him rather than answer his statement.

You said, “You’re coming, aren’t you?”

“Yup.” Luffy nodded.

“Me and Nami will guard the entrance in case any more of those birds come back,” Usopp held his slingshot aloft. “We’ll shout if anything happens.”

“Shout loud,” Zoro said as he passed Usopp and entered the cave.

The cave’s cool air was a blessing against your sweaty, sticky skin. You led the crew, even though you didn’t have a map or idea of where the box might be. Estella said ‘Trusting one’s self is the greatest gift’ and you didn’t know if that applied to treasure-hunting, but you decided there was no time like the present to try.

“These caves are odd,” Sanji said, gesturing to the glowing greenish crystals that were embedded into the dark rocks above. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It’s something with the moon,” you said, watching your shadows play against the stone and crystal walls. “The full moon helps charge them...or so Estella says. She has a book about the caves on Nightingale Island.”

Zoro dug his fingers around one of the lower crystals, yanked it free and it continued to glow in his large hand. He swept his arm across the cavern floor, shining more light on the bits of rubble and dirt, but no treasure box lay waiting for you. His hair brightened beneath the crystals and gave it an almost illusory neon effect.

The cavern curved left, but remained a single, narrow pathway, without any divergences. As odd as that was, since caverns like these usually spilled like a network of threads, you were grateful. You didn’t want to add ‘getting lost in the crystal caves’ to your list of travesties.

“Where’d you learn to fight?” Luffy asked.

“Here and there,” you replied, “Estella needs me to protect her.”

“Did she teach you how to use that chain thing?” He mimed spinning it over his head, as you had done at one point during the battle like the chain was a lasso rope.

You laughed lightly.

“No,” you said, “we spent about nine months on this one island, seeking Pandora’s onyx box, and during that time I trained with a woman named Camilla.”

Luffy’s eyes lit up, emboldened by the viridescent glow of the crystals, and he said, “Cool!” His voice echoed strangely and you stopped suddenly.

“We’re close to something,” you said.

“How do you know?” asked Sanji.

“Our voices sound different here,” Zoro said, sounding bored.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Sanji said, rolling his eyes.

You peered through the muddled darkness tinted by a glowing light. Your heart skipped. Could Estella be right? Was the final box of Pandora’s treasure here? You quickened your pace and followed the path with one hand on your weapon. The crystals sparkled above and mirrored your reflections on their glossy, green surface.

The pathway opened into a cistern with tall glistening edges of slick cave walls, dripping and glowing crystal stalagmites, and shocks of white, thick spider webs running through gaps. Does something live here? You scanned the space.

“Holy shit,” you gasped. At the center of the room was a natural conglomeration of crystals and a bone-white puzzle box nestled at the center, glimmering like a beacon beneath the luminescent light.

You ran forward, kicking aside a bleached-white bone where it went clack-clack-clack into some rocks, and jostled loose golden berry lying around on the ground.

Something grumbled beneath you. No. That wasn’t right. The solid ground gave way, crumbling like a sandcastle devoured by the incoming tide, and your arms windmilled—your scream caught in your throat. The rocks beneath your feet fell to a nest of large, white ropes, and your body tensed—awaiting the inevitable crash and broken bones.

Luffy grabbed your wrist. He pitched into you, the ground unstable, and this time—your scream released—and gravity twisted your body so your spine was to the painful ground below.

“Luffy!” Zoro shouted.

Luffy stretched like saltwater taffy, he clung to your wrists, and both of you dangled above death trap of sharp rocks and rubble. Above, at the very ledge, Zoro’s muscles bulged as he held onto Luffy’s ankles. How is he holding both of us?!

“Climb up,” Luffy said, “climb over me like I’m a rope.” He smiled like this was an ordinary occurrence and you both weren’t a few hundred feet away from certain death.

“I’ll drop,” you said, “I’m closer to the ground. I’ll survive it.”

You glanced at your feet swinging through the empty, dark air. You actually couldn’t tell how close the ground was. The strange, white ropes glowed eerily beneath the muted crystal light, and pockets of it were disturbed and quivering from the fallen rocks. Is that--? Your brow furrowed.

“I can pull you both up,” Zoro announced, his face pinched tight with effort. “Just – just hold on.”

“I already am.” Luffy tightened his grip around your wrists and a wave of nausea coursed through you. Your skin prickled with a clammy, uncomfortable sensation. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth, you reminded yourself, using every ounce of self-control not to vomit.

Zoro pulled, grunting as he did, and Luffy’s legs disappeared over the ledge.

Although you couldn’t see Zoro, you heard him shout; “I don’t need your help, stupid cook!”

“I’m not trusting an idiot swordsman with her life,” Sanji yelled, “or with Luffy’s.”

You clenched your eyes shut, squeezing Luffy’s thin wrists, feeling his rapid pulse beneath your fingertips as your heartbeat rushed in your ears and your mouth filled with saliva.

Luffy said your name and your eyes re-opened, “I’m not going to drop you,” he said softly.

He said these words like a stalwart, unwavering promise. He said them in the same way he said ‘I’m going to be king of the pirates’ and despite your past, your ingrained paranoia, and your reasons to distrust him—you believed him, and something sharp prickled behind your eyes.

Luffy’s midsection was yanked over the ledge and Zoro finished pulling the both of you onto the overhanging ledge. As you brushed the cave dirt from your legs, Sanji hunched his shoulders and met your gaze.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Fine.” You looked toward the chasm that separated Pandora’s box from you. You hadn’t brought rope or grappling hooks and you were ill-prepared to vault or climb onto the other side. “How are we going to get over there?”

Zoro pointed and said, “Hug the wall and maneuver around the chasm.”

Your mouth opened to tell him about the risk, but a sudden scuttling noise drew everyone’s attention to the ceiling.

“My web caught a tasty treat,” it said before lowering itself, a web attached to the crystals hung from its spinnerets. The creature was a human from the waist up, her breasts pale and nippleless, and her straight, long, black hair framed her pale face and six, red slit eyes.

Sanji blanched.

“This is your cavern?” You said. You knew grabbing the box wouldn’t be easy, but a giant spider-woman was extreme.

“My cavern,” she said, tilting her head, “and my food.” She clicked the mandibles on the sides of her jaw.

“Luffy, can you reach the box?” You unclasped your kusarigama and extended the chain between your hands.

Luffy cracked his knuckles. “I want to fight this thing.”

“I’ll get the box,” Sanji said, “I don’t fight women.”

He inched closer to the walls which had narrow ledges to precariously climb across. Your heart fell into your shoes. Sanji...You recalled the smiling, overjoyed faces of the children from the orphanage after Sanji made them breakfast, his fond and thoughtful expression when he talked about Zeff, his kindness in the kitchen, and his concerned gaze when Zoro pulled you and Luffy from the ledge. You couldn’t let him risk his life for Estella’s dream. You couldn’t. He’s going to fall if he tries to get it.

Zoro scoffed. “She’s not a woman.”

“I am Arachne,” the creature said.

“Sanji, wait—” you said.

The Arachne swung from her webbing towards the group. A warm, large muscled body collided with yours, sending you sideways into rubble and rock. Your skin smarted and burned where it hit the stones and jagged crystals. You blinked, stunned, as your mind lagged to piece together the details.

Zoro rolled off of you, blade drawn, and jumped to his feet. He saved me? You understood his earlier rescue because Luffy had been involved. He wouldn’t let his captain die—he was protective of him, cared about him even. But saving you didn’t add up. It didn’t make sense. Pirates weren’t loyal to people who weren’t their crew. You shook your head. Roronoa Zoro had saved your life twice. You adjusted your grip on the hilt of your kusarigama.

Time to repay the favor, you thought before charging the Arachne. You slid on your knees, ignoring the pain as the tiny rocks dug into your skin, and ducked beneath the creature’s large, hairy legs. Your chain whipped out, wrapping one leg at the joint before you rolled out from beneath her and jerked the chain over your shoulder for leverage.

The Arachne screeched in indignation, wobbling, although she remained steady on her other legs.

“Hold it steady,” Zoro shouted as his sword flashed in a quick, upward arc as he ran beneath the tied-up leg.

You stumbled forward as the leg was dismembered from its body and flung off in another direction.

The Arachne hissed, scrambling up the wall, and toward the ceiling. You spun your kusarigama, feeling safer with the weight in your hands, and the glowing steel beneath the crystalline fragments.

“Hey!” Luffy yelled, “where are you going?”

You spared a glance to Sanji. He was about halfway, his arms spread akimbo, his back to the wall and his feet crossing carefully over the ridge.

Luffy’s hands shot toward the Arachne and grabbed its rear legs, pulling her back, and the Arachne fired several sticky ropes of webbing at Luffy. He jumped, dodging the first splatter of webbing with impressive speed, and used his momentum to launch himself toward the Arachne.

Luffy landed on her back. They were halfway up the wall, closer to the ceiling than the floor, and your palms dampened as your adrenaline transmuted to fear. What if he falls? You weren’t sure if his Gum-Gum powers made him invincible to gravity and you didn’t want to find out.

You shouted, “Luffy, be careful!”

It’s part human, you worried your lip between your teeth, by that logic, my devil fruit powers should work on it. However, Sanji, Luffy, and Zoro weren’t safe. They didn’t have earplugs or headphones. You couldn’t risk using your voice on the Arachne and hurting them and you didn’t want to distract Sanji from his treacherous and focused climb to Pandora’s box.

Luffy wrestled with the creature, his legs were wrapped around the Arachne’s torso, and his fists moved too fast for your eyes to follow.

Zoro snapped your name and followed with, “Give me a boost.” His eyes were above, focused on Luffy, his green hair hidden by a black bandanna.

“You can’t reach him,” you said, interlacing your fingers, lowering yourself into a crouch, and bracing your back against the cavern’s wall.

Zoro said nothing and smirked. He ran toward you, planting his foot in your cupped hands, before launching himself up towards Arachne and Luffy. His boot scuffed against the wall and he grabbed the hanging webbing that swung from the Arachne. The creature slid downward but remained on the vertical wall. Her balance was affected by Luffy’s attacks and the weight of Zoro on her ‘tail’.

His muscles strained as he climbed the web, shedding pieces of webbing that fell like strange, spindly fluffs of white.

Sanji called your name and you looked. He held the box above his head, victorious and smiling, and your heart swelled. All this trouble for such a small thing, you thought.

“That’s mine!” The Arachne hissed, her face gushed blood, and half of her eyes were swollen shut from Luffy’s onslaught.

She reared back, bucking Luffy from her, and scuttled downward carrying Zoro with her. Luffy landed as a heap of limbs next to you, but his head popped back up, a little dazed but otherwise okay.

The Arachne’s intention was clear. She meant to attack Sanji—to punish him for stealing. Well, you weren’t going to let that happen. You planted your feet, your eyes narrowed and focused on the angles, the speed of her long, spider-legs, and the shape of her long, pale neck.

Kusarigama flew from your hand, its’ sickle-side cut through the air, and the cold chain unraveled through your fingers. The sickle zipped past her head and you tugged the chain, quick and forced, and the blade reversed direction and its’ curved edge sliced clean through her neck. A second passed. The Arachne’s head seemed to float through the air as it was rendered from her body with an arching spray of crimson that appeared black in the verdant pale light of the cave.

Her head hit the ground with a soft and rolling ‘thump’.

“That went well,” you said, breaking the silence, and a hysteric smile threatened to take hold of your lips. None of the children are going to believe this.

“Do you think anyone will believe that we fought a giant spider-lady?” asked Luffy.

Sanji said, “It’s no less believable than defeating Arlong’s crew.”

Your eyebrows raised. “You beat Arlong?” You thought Usopp had been lying when he shared that story.

Zoro sheathed his sword. “It was easy.”

“We make a pretty good team, don’t we?” Luffy said before smiling, though you assumed the question was rhetorical and didn’t answer him. You nudged the Arachne’s head with your foot and it rolled off the ledge and into the darkness below. It was eerie how easily you slipped into this crew’s dynamic. You didn’t fit in with them—you didn’t, but you could. And that was the scary part. However, you wouldn’t entertain ideas or dreams of leaving Nightingale Island. Your place was next to Estella and your future and fate were tied to hers.

You owed her after everything she did for you, after everything you’ve gone through together. No matter how easy it was to fight alongside the Straw Hats—you had your place in this world and it wasn’t with these pirates.

(author's note:

I'm sorry this took a while to post. I hope the length makes up for it <3 also happy belated birthday to Sanji !! xoxo )

[candyswirls]

Bat Fledgling - Pt 5: Welcome

Previous - Next - MasterPost

Summary: They arrive back home at the Raven Lord’s base.

This Night Lord Baby is getting the home and family he deserves

I’ve always imagined that a number of Corvus’s sons joined him in the warp and he ended up collecting others.

Hidden within several cavernous crags and sharp peaks was their base. A red river poured from out it into a massive and high waterfall. Mist flowed up high into the air. Just under a ledge was an unseen cave. It looked like it went forward only a few meters before abruptly ending. A simple illusion of perspective.

Far into the cave was the Raven Lord’s base. At first it had been a hiding place. A very good one. Him and his band of warriors camped out in the darkness. Now it was a secret fortress. Ten thousand years allowed them to bring it from shambles to an unmoving ship.

It was stockpiled with scavenged weapons and ammunition. Food storage came from their greenhouses and if filtered, the water was drinkable. It’s hue came from the sediment and soil springs the area.

Kiri whispered into the Raven Lord’s ear as they approached.

“Is this where we’re going to live?”

“Yes.” He answered.

“It’s pretty.”

“Wait till you see the inside.”

Kiri’s looked astonished, “Inside?? Where??”

Corvus smiled as they descended towards the bottom of the waterfall. They slipped behind it and climbed up to the cave.

About 8,000 years ago they had created a false wall to deter enemies should they find the place. It opened with a simple hidden knob and locking mechanisms.

The door swung open and they stepped into the impeding darkness.

Kiri held onto Corvus as they walked forward.

“Corvus Corax and guest,” he said aloud.

“Tevro.”

“Abbott.”

Another false wall opened, light pouring out.

“Lord Corax!” Called out several voices.

The Raven’s current band of warriors was a mix of different legions. Some had left their traitorous onesie had never wanted to join chaos in the first place. Others were members of loyalist chapters who became trapped in the warp. A number of his own sons had joined as they searched for him in the warp. He’d picked up some space wolves looking for his brother and had a surprising amount of Emperors Children and Night Lords that had joined.

“Is that a child?” A Night Lord asked.

A gasp rang out.

It was Adile, a former emperors child. It was known that he adored babies and children of any kind. He had dealt specifically with neophytes and cared for them.

“Hello there sweet baby!” He greeted. “How precious you are! Oh he’s so small, much smaller than any neophyte I’ve met.”

Kiri, albeit a bit shy, waved to Adile.

Adile wore his heart on his sleeve. An extremely caring individual and true romantic. Adopting various pets and helping anyone he could. It was easy to see when he fell in love with someone or something, even with the mask he wore. Corvus saw the exact moment he fell in love Kiri.

“Lord Corax where did you find this most precious baby?” He gushed.

“This is Kiri and he was being held by the word bearers for the mission,” Corvus explained. “I’ve rescued him and brought him here.”

“Of course,” Muttered Honsin. The former word bearer for was incredibly bitter about his legion and especially his Primarch.

Corvus set Kiri down.

“He’ll stay here,” Corvus said. “He’s already mutating and has been passed around to enough guardians.”

Tevro added, “Lord Corvus has adopted him. A little brother.”

“Daddy!” Kiri giggled as he hugged the Primarch.

Adile let out an audible “aw”.

“We don’t have clothes or armor that would fit him,” mentioned one of the Night Lords. “I can take his measurements and use some of the scrap fabric too small for us.”

Avikona had taught himself sewing in his spare time and had used it to help the band.

“Where is Bora?” Corvus questioned.

Several motioned to the med bay.

He led Kiri into there, motioning for the others not to follow.

Bora was working with several vials and bowed to the Primarch.

“Lord Corax,” he said as he moved around the table. “It pleases me to see you safely returned. How may I-“

He spotted Kiri.

“I…” Bora gaped. “A child?? One from Nostramo?”

Kiri’s smile faded.

“He was being held by the word bearers,” Corvus stated. “He’s been in and out of stasis.”

He picked up Kiri and placed him upon an exam table.

“He was… being experimented with,” Corvus retold, gritting teeth. “Seeing the effects of starting the Astartes process at an earlier age. He had begun at barely 6 years old. First with the Night Lords. Granted by my brother himself. Then given to the Word Bearers. I want you to make sure he’s okay.”

“I don’t want the Night Haunter’s geneseed,” Kiri said quickly. “I want it out. I can be a Raven Guard!”

He seemed almost frantic.

Bora looked from the boy to Corvus, his face only changing once he saw the Primarch’s own expression.

“Let’s do an evaluation,” Bora said quickly. “Then we can go from there.”

“Behave for, Bora,” Corvus said.

Kiri looked up, suddenly fearful, “You’re leaving me??”

“I must debrief the rest of my warriors,” he explained. “Don’t worry, Bora will take care of you. I’ll still be here at base.”

Kiri grabbed Corvus’s arm, refusing to let go.

“Please stay,” Kiri begged. “Don’t go. Stay with me. Or I can go with you!”

His desperation alarmed the Raven Lord.

They’d become too attached. Kiri only trusted him. But he was a Primarch and had responsibilities. He couldn’t focus on just one son. He would learn that he could rely on his new brothers.

“It is fine,” Corvus assured. “Bora is very good and can take care of you. You’ll be fine. I have to go.”

“No!” Kiri cried out.

“Kiri you need to let go,” Corvus said, an edge of annoyance in his tone.

“Don’t leave me!” Kiri started to cry. “Don’t leave me here! Don’t abandon me!!”

He froze, staring at his frantic child. Kiri’s eyes darted back and forth from Corax to apothecary tools.

“Okay,” he relented. “I’m staying. It’s okay. I’m here. I’m not abandoning you.”

He found himself picking up and holding Kiri as the boy cried. He rubbed his child’s back and looked at Bora. The apothecary was severely out of his element. He’d been apprenticing back when the heresy happened. He had studied many things but struggled when initially putting things into practice. He hadn’t dealt much with neophytes or aspirants.

Once Kiri had calmed down enough, Corvus sat him on the exam table again but kept a hand on his back.

“Bora?” Corvus asked.

“Yes,” the apothecary said. “Let’s ask a few things first. Do you know what surgeries you’ve had?”

Kiri was significantly calmer and seemed to be back to his happy self. An occasional sniff sounded and his eyes were puffy. He willingly gave answers.

“You say you’re nine?” Bora asked as he checked Kiri’s teeth.

“Uh-huh,” Kiri answered. “But I’ve been in stasis since the heresy. Most of the time.”

Bora frowned and looked over the height and weight measurements he took then felt Kiri’s head again.

“Do you feel bigger?” He asked.

Kiri nodded.

“What about longer? Besides being bigger does your body feel the same?”

Kiri thought a moment. Bora asked as he few more questions and even took an x-ray.

“If we had records that would be nice,” the apothecary muttered.

He continued to mutter as he looked over scan he took.

Corvus smoothed back Kiri’s hair, “I’m going to speak with him. I’ll still be in the room and you can see me.”

Kiri nodded.

He moved to the far side of the room.

“What are you thinking?” He asked Bora.

“He’s not nine,” the apothecary answered. “I mean, ten thousand years and cryostasis and all. But his proportions are wrong for that age. It may have been three years passing but… he’s gotten bigger but he hasn’t grown. Technically he’s still just barely six. Effects of the Astartes process as our life span is increased.”

“He is very young and immature,” Corvus muttered.

Bora showed him the x-rays.

“He’s had fractures,” Bora said. “None needed for the Astartes process. Lots of additional scars as well. He’s thin, and not a healthy pale and… he’s sick. Obviously he would not begin the Astartes process again until he’s much older but if you also want the night lord geneseed removed he is going to need to get better and stronger before I can even consider doing anything.”

Corvus nodded.

“Throne,” Bora sighed. “My mentor told me I was going to be placed with the neophytes and I got every single bit of information of children and children’s medicine I could find. Then the heresy happened but I still have those books. Read up in them when I’m bored. Last night actually. Thank goodness I did so. Needed a refresher.”

Corvus sighed heavily as he processed Kiri’s condition.

“What of how attached he is?” Corvus questioned. “I believe some is due to fear of medical tools. But I can’t have him with me always.”

“My Lord, might I be candid?” Bora asked.

“Of course my son,” He answered.

Bora looked down then back to his Primarch, “You have always cared deeply for your sons. For the imperium. For the Emperor, beloved by all. We feel it and appreciate it. Yet you have such a deep connection to this boy.”

“I love all my sons equally,” Corvus assured.

Bora shook his head, “I don’t mean that. He’s young, hurt, and very emotional. He will required more attention and care. But… he’s attached to you. And I think you him.”

“I know I need to start keeping my distance,” Corvus muttered. “It’s not wise.”

“My Primarch,” Bora interjected. “We are but few in numbers and have been with you for near ten millennia. I would say we are closer than even the Great Angel was with the ninth. I think it is good and helpful.”

Corvus sighed and looked at his son for a moment before pulling him into an embrace. Tears pricked his eyes.

“I have lost too many sons,” he said. “I fear the day I return to the imperium I will not be able to bring myself to love my legion again. It’s been so long and it hurts to care and lose so many.”

“You already care for the boy,” Bora pointed out. “That is a good sign.”

“I fear to do so,” Corvus admitted. “Even more so that I can’t stop it.”

Bora rested his head upon his Primarch’s chest. They were stable in resources as they were during the crusade. But it had taken so much to get here. So long.

“Father,” Bora said. “You smell like the warp and not in a good way.”

Corvus chuckled, “You are right.”

He moved over to Kiri who sat patiently. He lit up as Corvus reached out for him.

“We both need to bathe,” Corvus told him.

“I haven’t had a bath in forever!” Kiri said excitedly.

As they exited the apothecary, Avikona, was waiting outside.

“Lord Corax,” he bowed. “If I can get his measurements I can start right away.”

Kiri flinched away as the Night Lord reached out.

“It’s okay,” Corvus said as he set Kiri down.

Avikona knelt down, “Hold out your arms. I just need to measure your torso and wingspan first.”

Kiri did so and watched as Avi used a string to get his measurements. Then his height and other things.

“Thank you,” he said as he swept off towards his room.

Kiri clung to Corvus’ leg.

“Come along,” Corvus urged. He kept his stride short and slow so Kiri could keep up.

Adile waited outside the showers for them.

“I’ve already filled a bath for both of you,” he said. “Nice and warm. Towels are laid out in there and everything else is set up.”

“Thank you Adile,” Corvus said.

“Come along,” Adile said as he offered a hand to Kiri.

The boy took it as they followed the Primarch in.

Adile assisted him with removing his armor and setting it aside.

Kiri stared at the filled bath, standing near the edge. It was carved out of the stone. Corvus suddenly wondered if Kiri could swim. All the others baths were Primarch and Astartes sized. But he was so little. He could easily fall in and drown.

“Kiri,” he called. “Come over here. Don’t run.”

Kiri came over, looking up at Corvus with a smile. He picked him up and Kiri ran his hands over his feathers.

“They’re soft,” Kiri commented. “Will I get feathers? With your geneseed?”

“Maybe,” he said. “Let’s get these rags off of you.”

He removed Kiri’s oversized shirt and the pair of shorts he had been wearing and gave them to Adile. He brought Kiri over to the tub and slowly sunk in. There was a step that was shallow enough that Kiri could sit there.

He ran his fingers through the water. Little hands stretched out, mesmerized by the feeling.

Corvus reached out his own hands and spread them under Kiri’s. They engulfed them.

Kiri ran his fingers along the lines of the Primarch’s palms. He grinned up at the Primarch.

Corvus smiled back.

He would have let him soak for a bit longer but dirt and patches of blood were starting to drift off of him.

He scrubbed gently with the soap they had, taking extra care with his hair. It was ratted and dense.

“Might need to cut it,” Corvus mentioned.

“No!” Kiri protested as he covered his head.

“Okay,” Corvus replied. “Let me keep working at it.”

As he pulled apart knots, Adile washed his own hair. He had become somewhat of an assistant to Corvus. Taking over duties usually assigned to serfs.

Adile had received severe head trauma and brain damage. The daemon possessing him deemed his body too broken to pilot and fled.

Corvus and those with him at the time found him. They nursed him back to health and helped to reteach him basic skills. Due to their kindness, he stayed with them, even as he gained back some memories.

He now functioned well on his own. He was extremely positive and couldn’t sense pain or temperature. Life was great in Adile’s eyes.

Corvus got through Kiri’s hair and used a cup to rinse him. Kiri popped the bubbles that appeared and giggled.

Adile was ready with a towel as Corvus handed his child over.

“Time to dry off!” Adile sang as he wrapped it around Kiri and took him away.

Corvus sunk deeper into the bath to get himself clean.

Adile set Kiri on a counter and dried him off. Only his face peeked out from the towel.

The Primarch dove under the water to rinse himself then climbed out. He wrapped himself and went to Kiri.

“Thank you Adile,” he said as he picked up Kiri.

Adile bowed.

Avikona left a small loincloth and a simple night gown in the Raven Lord’s room.

“Are those for me?” He asked.

Corvus nodded.

He had Kiri put them on as he put on his own casual clothes. He smoothed back the boy’s hair. It was now sleek and shiny.

“Do I have to sleep alone?” Kiri asked, worry hiding within his eyes.

Corvus caressed his cheek.

“You can stay with me tonight,” he said.

His beak retracted and he pressed a kissed to Kiri’s forehead.

Kiri giggled and climbed into his arms and pressed a kissed to his cheek.

As he held the boy, Kiri let out a few small sobs.

He pulled back and looked down at Kiri.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

Kiri shook his head as he wiped his eyes, “I’m really grateful. Thank you, daddy. Is this my home now?”

Corvus nodded.

“Okay,” Kiri sighed. “Good. I missed having a home. And a bath. And being…”

More tears streamed down his round cheeks.

He laid down with Kiri in his arms, rubbing his back and holding him close to his chest.

“Shhh,” he soothed. “It’s okay. It’s all okay. You’re safe now. You’re going to be taken care of.”

He recalled his own first bath. Kind gentle hands cleaning away the grime and dirt off of him. How nice it felt afterwards. Being cared for and clothed.

Kiri’s breath turned rhythmic as he fells asleep. Corvus ran fingers through his hair, unable to stop watching him. So little. So precious.

He muttered to himself, “Emperor, beloved by all, master of mankind, my father. Forgive this request so close to a prayer. Give me strength and knowledge to deal with this child. Help me to care and nurture him. He is so little and young, and sweet. I fear these tender and protective feelings I have that continue to grow. Guide me as I raise him. I’m afraid I cannot let him go. Please father, hear my plea.”

He pressed another kiss to Kiri’s forehead as his own exhaustion began taking over.