#remember those quite venings

[venerabela]

{PSNL} The First

My first actual Pokemon game was Pokemon Blue, with Pokemon Yellow following after. Charmander was my first choice, since I was big into dragons, and I knew what they evolved into. Pokemon Blue didnt have a gender system, aside from the Nidoran line, so I mis-remembered from my previous Pokemon image. I think I just imagined my Charmander being female and my over-active imagination filled in the rest of the blanks. I didnt have many friends growing up. I was bullied and treated horribly, so I treasured what few friends I did have before my Sophomore year in High School. What I lacked in friends, I made up for with my imagination. Pokemon, Digimon, His Dark Materials, Animorphs, so many of these series I grew up watching, playing, reading, and interacting with, I would create an imaginary friend for. Pikachu technically was the first imaginary friend, but Charmander was the first game in which it came to life. An original Game Boy Color that I had brought Charmander into my arms for the first time. I would imagine playing hide and seek, and other child's games. As I played through Blue, which I didnt get very far, mind you... Just far enough to evolve Charizard, my view on her changed and shifted. It taught me strategy, patience, and companionship with animals. I had a LOT of trouble with Misty, due to type disadvantages of Charmeleon with Staryu/Starmie. After a few unsuccessful fights, my mind kind of pieced together that my Charmeleon was taking quite a beating, which resulted in me taking good care of her after a bit of a battering to her face resulted in a deep scratch on her brow and cheek. Poor baby... :< Still, what little I remember past Lt Surge, outside of the game itself, I used to run out in the rain, imagining my Pokemon following happily behind. After I'd gotten wet enough that I was starting to get cold, I imagined, while sitting in front of the heat vent in my room (my room was the warmest in the house), that I was sitting against Charizard's side, umbrella'd under her wing, and being given her fiery tail to warm myself up with. It might sound kinda strange, but I've been feeling, as I turned 30 in October, that I've been making up for an underwhelming childhood... Almost like I'm having a second childhood as I go through my 30s. I'm playing a LOT of older games on older consoles, and have been taking a break from the games I normally play, like Apex and Minecraft. I feel a LOT happier with myself and I will likely be doing more images of myself with old childhood imaginings. One on my mind is that I used to have a full crew and even a main enemy in a Star Trek parody comic that I would draw on sheets of paper. I'm pretty sure my mother still has those in storage. Might go grab them and redraw them with my current artistic skill. Art and Vene © to myself 

Posted using PostyBirb

[mintchanniemint]

[angst ; wordcount: 2k]

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

pt.1 ; pt.2

[08:49 a.m]

The warm, sweet smell of freshly baked chocolate croissants quickly filled up the small kitchen in Chan's apartment. He had a day off and after going to the bakery nearby to treat himself to a nice breakfast, he checked the mailbox and strangely found, among the different advertising magazines and usual bills he had to pay, a letter addressed to him. 

He left it on the counter and kept staring at it while taking big, slow bites of the warm brioche in his hand. His mind started wandering from one thought to another, he really didn't know who could possibly leave a letter to him since he usually kept in touch with people either via emails or texts.

But suddenly, a specific thought flashed in his mind for a fraction of seconds. He stopped chewing on the croissant as he slowly walked closer to the counter and his eyes analyzed the handwriting properly. 

"I'm so dumb…" 

He mumbled to himself, a big sigh following right away. He left his unfinished breakfast on the small table and his fingers quickly traced his name written on that envelope. It was your handwriting, he couldn't explain why he didn't recognize it the second he saw it, but it was probably because he convinced himself that the two of you weren't gonna cross paths anymore. 

What was the content of the letter? Why did you leave a letter? And when? Why not a text message? 

Chan quickly shook his head, annoyed by all those unanswered questions floating around in his head, and he rapidly opened the envelope, but he closed it again right away, cowardly. 

"Dear Chan…" 

That was all he read. Yet, he felt scared. Scared of what you carefully wrote for him in that piece of paper. He felt so small and coward, but at the same time he knew it was wrong to just ignore it. He also had to admit that if he was already over you, he probably wouldn't have felt this way at all. 

"Three, two, one…" 

He got the piece of paper out of the envelope and took a deep breath before letting his eyes absorb every single word written on it.   

"Dear Chan, 

Yes, yes it's me. I don't know why I'm not texting you. I promised myself I wouldn't have contacted you but here I am… a coward as usual!" 

He lightly bit his bottom lip as he snorted and looked away for a moment. You didn't change at all, no matter how much time had passed. 

"But don't expect something long. No, this is something important and I want to keep it as short as possible so you can read this quickly."

His mind was telling him to stop reading. 

Why am I even reading this? We're not together anymore-

But he actually cared so much. Cared for a relationship he, himself, had ruined with his own hands. 

"Focus, Chan. Focus."

He sounded mad at his own thoughts, and decided to proceed with reading the rest of the letter. 

The piece of paper slowly left his hand as it delicately reached the floor, by his feet. 

"...so you can read this quickly. 

Thank you, Chan. Thank you and sorry. 

Thank you for keeping me warm during lonely, cold nights. 

Thank you for showing me how bright your eyes can shine whenever you smile. 

And thank you for breaking me, too. I was able to get up again, maybe with some scars, but I'm not gonna stay stuck here. We have to move on. 

I don't have any bad feelings for you. Thank you for loving me, and thank you for letting me love you.

I'm actually leaving tonight, you know, I acc accepted a job overseas. 

I wish you the best, always. "

Leaving?

Why were you leaving? Was it because of him?

A relationship that Chan knew he had completely ruined. He wasn't able to make you as happy as he thought he was, he actually hurt you multiple times and didn't know how to fix it, until it reached a breakpoint. And after letting you down, he just thought it was better to leave you. Because he didn't want to hurt you more than he had already done. 

His fingers started running through his messy hair, messing it up even more than it was already ruffled. His mind was running even faster than a few moments earlier and he was feeling somehow lost. 

What was he going to do? He noticed that you left the time of your flight in the letter, did he have to meet you there? Were you actually trying to leave a message to him? Were the two of you really over that relationship? 

What were you telling him? What was he supposed to do? 

"Gosh, this is destroying my mind." 

His voice filled the silence in the kitchen with slight anger and confusion. 

Did he actually want to go and meet you? Was it going to be worth it? What if you two ended up arguing? 

He reached for the piece of paper, leaving it on the table as he tried to finish his breakfast, although his hunger was already more than gone. 

His mind once again drifted away as he let the sweet, warm taste of chocolate fill his senses. His eyes focused on those few words at the end of the handwritten letter. 

Bite after bite, he could feel his own thoughts getting more and more mixed up. 

As he arrived home, he left the grocery bags on the table in the kitchen and sat down, his eyes automatically moving to the handwritten letter, that simple yet scary letter. 

He felt like a weird pang in his heart decided to bother him.

As he tried his best not to think about that letter, he tried to get distracted throughout the day; he went out for a stroll, met with some friends, and went grocery shopping. Yet that weird feeling in his chest wasn't leaving him alone. It really felt like something was wrong, not in its place… 

Chan took a deep breath and put that letter back in its envelope. He finally made up his mind, there wasn't much time left before you would have left the country. He had to meet you. 

"What should I do…" 

He sighed soundly, his heart tightening, his throat suddenly feeling dry as his hands caught that piece of paper for the thousandth time that day. Reading and rereading those few sentences, his eyes couldn't help but let his mind memorize the time you had written at the end of the letter. There, before your signature, at the corner of the paper. 

[9:23 p.m]

He tried his best to look somehow good; he kept his hands from distractedly ruffling his hair, he didn’t fidget too much with the hem of his coat because he knew he would have ruined it somehow. He didn't want to look like a whole mess, he didn't want that to be the last image you would have had of him vene though it was getting quite difficult for him to hide it.

He sighed once again, leaning his head against the window of the cab, on his way to the airport, as the bright neon lights of the city were occasionally caressing his features while he let the soft, distant music coming out of the radio fill up his mind, accompanying his thoughts. 

Chan kept mumbling to himself the time you wrote in that letter as he looked at all the huge screens listing the different flights. He was scared he was late, maybe he didn't understand the letter properly. Maybe it was all something his mind made up for him, maybe-

Once he arrived, he didn't hesitate much before entering that huge building; seeing that huge crowd of people, bright white lights, luggage, voices, smiles, cries.

It felt as if the realization started to hit him. 

You were leaving. You were leaving the country, you were leaving him and all the memories you were able to make with him.

And that was going to be his last chance to see you again. 

As his mind kept running through irrational thoughts, his eyes met with yours. You were in a queue, waiting for your turn for the check-in. You were wearing a warm coat, a black scarf covering and warming up your neck while your fingers were distractedly tapping on your suitcase. 

Chan felt like time stopped the moment your eyes met with his. He just looked at you, a little bit out of breath, as one of his hands went through his hair, ruffling it. He bit his lip and looked down for a second, probably cursing at himself for ruining his looks. 

You mentally pointed out how his hair was longer than you remembered. Before you could notice anything else, it was finally your turn to the check-in. Your mind kept giving you so many rushed thoughts, as if you were somehow thrilled to be seeing him after so long. You unconsciously didn’t expect to see him, you had to admit it. So much had happened in the past months; since seeing him at work was getting unbearable, you asked for a shift with a colleague in order not to see him when you were there, not even on accident and then you got that job offer and didn’t even think about it twice before accepting. You saw it as a chance to leave everything behind.

Chan quietly stayed there, his hands both in the pockets of his coat as his eyes couldn't leave, not even for a second, your figure. 

As Chan saw you walk closer to him, he froze. He felt like he was supposed to run away, as if he couldn't face you nor deserve to even talk to you. 

"Have a safe flight!" 

You thanked the lady in front of you with a smile and a nod as you walked away from that huge queue, directed to the gate for your flight. 

You kept getting closer and closer to where he was standing. 

His heart was racing, that ache not leaving his chest as your figure just kept getting cleaner and closer to his eyes. 

You stopped a few steps far from him, enough to hear each other. 

"Hey, you got the letter." 

"Yeah, I did. I… I did, yeah." 

As you were able to better observe his face, you noticed how his eyes were weary, his hair was messy because of excessive ruffling and he overall looked so exhausted. You couldn’t help but worry for him.

"Are you okay-" 

"Chan, it's not just your fault-" 

"I'm sorry." 

He blurted out so quickly, he probably didn’t even hear your question. His eyes not brave anymore to keep eye contact with yours. 

"I should have known better. It is my fault."

"It's okay. Maybe we just weren't meant to be." 

"Don't... say that." 

His voice sounded full of pain and regret as you slowly walked closer to him.

You gently placed two fingers under his chin, encouraging him to make his eyes focus on yours. 

"Then, Chan… Do something to make me stay." 

Those few, painful words left your lips in a hidden, loud and surreal cry as your eyes were trying to stay strong and keep eye contact with him. 

Chan was there, in front of you, his lips slightly parted as you could tell panic was slowly filling his mind. His hands ruffled his slightly long hair again and as he did so, you started taking a few steps back, ready to turn and walk away. 

“Anything.”

You insisted, your hand leaving his chin.

And you suddenly found yourself in that warm, familiar hug. A hug you had missed for months, already. A hug you thought you were not going to experience anymore. 

"Stop it!" 

His loud voice pierced your ears, followed by a swift, messy row of footsteps sounding louder and louder as you felt his hand grabbing you by the arm. 

"Whatever I try to say, it will only make things worse."

He mumbled between soft sobs as you could feel his embrace getting tighter around your waist. 

"Maybe it's just supposed to go this way." 

You tried to hide your trembling voice as much as possible as you closed your eyes, your hands now reciprocating the desperate hug. 

"Thanks for letting me love you, Chan." 

"I'm so sorry."

He let his words leave his lips in a low, trembling whisper as he tried to feel that hug as much as he could. 

"... I'm sorry I wasn't worth it-" 

"You were." 

You broke the hug and looked at him one last time with a light smile painting your lips as your eyes were starting to get filled with tears. 

"You're a whole mess, Chan." 

You lightly giggled as you wiped his tears with your thumb. He didn’t say anything back, so you decided to hold him in a last, warm hug.

Your figure getting more and more blurred to Chan's teary eyes as he finally let you go. 

"It's gonna be alright. Believe me." 

You caressed his cheeks one last time before you had to turn your back and walk away, the loud, robotic announcement voice mentioning your flight as you kept moving one step after the other. 

[elleonmybeloved]

Fondly Dreamed

TERA (The Exiled Realm of Arborea) | Gen/Multi Words: 12,721 Chapter 2 Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29024796/chapters/74517459

Summary: The titans Arun and Shara dream of a world they call Arborea. Arborea was never a peaceful world, but it was always beautiful and full of magical creatures. When one of their first and most powerful creations turned on them, they banished him to the underworld, Agaia. But the barrier between worlds is weakening, and corruption is beginning to invade Arborea, unmaking it's very essence and turning the world into a wasteland of Argon blue. Lest their sleeping forms and their precious world be destroyed, the sleeping titans dream of brave, strong heroes who can go against the very gods, and banish the corruption once and for all, before it is too late.

Yeriss dreams of glory in a world full of meaningless death. Sahlin dreams of freedom. Elleon dreams of acceptance. Jelena dreams of a world of smiles and laughter instead of blood and tears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Moving with more care than she usually does, Yeriss balances a bowl of moongourd and noruk stew in one hand and a mug of apple cider in the other as she takes a seat on a flat looking stump next to one of the tents that are farther away from the campfire. Normally, she’d want to sit with her friends and chat during the rare time they have to socialize and have fun, but some kobold-brained idiot threw a painted scrap of wood in the fire and it’s stinking up the whole area around it. That, and Winra has been a real pain in the ass recently and she’s just not in the mood for her constant competitive quips. Especially since Sein seems to always take her side.

It’s been a week and a half since she first arrived. She’s pleased with how much she’s been contributing, but for some reason they only ever succeed to drive the monsters back for a day or two. Then suddenly there’s twice as many of them, and they lose the ground they won just as fast as they gained it.

Zoning out as she chews her food, it’s a minute before she realizes that she’s listening to a conversation coming faintly from the tent nearby.

“Another two gravely injured today.”

“Are the priests making any progress on their condition?”

“They’re trying their best, but we’ve run out of mana potions. The next shipment won’t be for some time.”

“Well that’s not good news. But slow healing is better than nothing. We need those soldiers back in the gorge as soon as possible.”

Yeriss recognizes the first voice as Tribune Adria, having been accustomed to hearing it at all hours of the day. The second one she’s not sure, but it’s a man’s voice.

“It’s like the supply of monsters is endless. It’s getting harder to keep them contained. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say someone is making them.” Adria complains, exasperatedly.

“It’s an island, the only thing past the gorge is a cliff and miles of sea water.” The man refutes. “But I know what you mean. Clearly there’s a source we don’t know about.”

“What if we sent a team to investigate? There’s one part of the island we’ve never been able to lay eyes on. A small group could sneak through, see what’s there.”

“That means getting past the hydraths. Who would we send? There’s only a few veterans among the soldiers who can even handle one. Sending anybody else would be a death sentence.”

“What about the squad that encountered one on accident the other day and survived?” Adria suggests.

“Oh right. From what I’ve heard, one of their group was stunned and couldn’t run, so their slayer uh... Yerenica, managed to take it down by herself.”

Yeriss perks up at the mention of herself, setting down her spoon. Invited along for the super important secret mission? Sounds like exactly where she wants to be. She smiles into her stew.

“Alright so her, Davina, Adrastus, Perrin, Jorhon…” Adria counts off. “Who else?”

“It’s a shame Leander refuses to help with anything other than his research until Elleon is found.” The man says with a sigh. “He’s the most experienced sorcerer on this island.”

“I wouldn’t risk asking him.” Adria replies in a cautionary tone. “Just yesterday I heard that he found one of Elleon’s twin swords, all muddied up with demonic magic. He was happy to get a clue after all this time but considering how foreboding of a sign it was, you can imagine the kind of mood he’s in.”

“Ugh, Goddess Velik have mercy… let’s assign one of the researchers working on the shields to help him. Jairus can complain all he wants, it’s about time we made progress on something. I swear, at this point it’s almost like Elleon doesn’t want to be found.”

“I won’t deny thinking we should just pack up and leave this island. What does Commander Seir even want with it anyway?”

“Oh he didn’t tell you?” Yeriss realizes then that Adria must be speaking to Consul Dougal, since he’s the only one who’d know Commander Seir’s plans. “Once we’ve cleared the whole thing top to bottom, he wants to set up a pegasus route and turn it into a private Federation training spot for all the brand new recruits. Private, defensible, and strictly regulated on who gets in and out. Away from prying eyes.”

“Really? I suppose more than half the island is beautiful and serene with plenty of open space and soft grass.”

“If you ask me, it’s not worth the effort.” Dougal says. “Especially with the Mysterium cracking down on us for entry. Not sure who leaked the info, but once they heard about the island and the World Tree, they demanded to be allowed entry to study it as soon as the island is safe for non-combatants.”

“Don’t let the poporian recruits hear that.” Adria says. “They’ve been quite protective of that tree.”

“That so? Honestly I’m kind of surprised they recognize it as a real tree.” Dougal remarks. “It certainly doesn’t look like one.”

Yeriss listens a bit longer, but they don’t say much else before Adria leaves the tent. She doesn’t look back and see her, instead making a beeline for the food table down the hill. Relatable.

Finishing the last, somewhat cold bites of her own meal, Yeriss springs up and takes her dishes over to the collection area with a pep in her step. It’s really nice to see that her abilities have been noticed by her higher ups. She’s got a feeling she and that group will find something that finally brings some changes to this island.

~~~

It’s not a surprise when instead of gathering with her squad the next morning, Tribune Adria is outside her tent waiting for her.

“I’ve got a special job for you, Yerenica. You interested?”

“Does it involve using my sword, or using a broom and dustpan?” Yeriss asks cheekily, remembering that she’s not supposed to already know about the mission. “Because that changes my answer.”

“Definitely your sword. Though if you were a witch like Sorcha, maybe you’d be using one of those other things.” Adria says, gesturing at her to come with her. “Let’s go, I’ll debrief you in the war tent.”

The war tent is a big red thing, with heavy fabric curtains and a large Valkyon Federation symbol made of metal atop it. Important people like Vene, Aide to the Vanarch, Consul Dougal, Tribune Adria, Leander, and Jairus are the only ones she sees regularly using it. When Adria holds the heavy curtain aside to allow Yeriss entry, she can’t help the pleased smile that pulls at her lips. This is where she’s meant to be.

Inside, Consul Dougal stands behind a table covered in maps. To his left, stands a group of other soldiers she recognizes from around the island.

“Welcome. As you know, despite our continued siege on the gorge, the monsters easily replenish their numbers. It’s more than likely that they are coming from somewhere, which is what we need to find out. Our researchers have pin-pointed the source of the corruptive mana somewhere in the southeast of the gorge.” Dougal pauses briefly. “Past the hydraths. You all are here because at some point or another, you’ve managed to prove your own in battle against one. We need you to get past them and investigate the source of the corruption and report back.”

“Ideally, you won’t have to fight the hydraths.” Adria adds. “Best case scenario: you sneak past them without being noticed. We have a general idea of what you should be looking for, but I’ll let Volis here explain the details on that.”

At her gesture, a high elf man carrying a tall staff steps forward from the group of soldiers. “This entire island is covered in unique magic that seems to emanate from the World Tree. It is the source of it’s thriving nature and the reason so many fey have come to life here.” He begins.

“It is also the reason why the corruptive dark mana present in the Tainted Gorge is able to twist the fey into monsters so easily. I, and the others researching this have managed to extract a core full of this dark mana from a corrupted sporewalker found in the Timeless Woods. Channeling energy into it with my staff should allow me to lead you in the direction of the source of the corruption.”

Volis pauses for a moment, considering. “The researchers and I are not sure if the source is an artifact, or a being, or several beings. Regardless, the magnitude of dark mana being produced and at such a rate suggests either something big, or perhaps the presence of many beings capable of summoning dark magic. It’s too painful to withstand the energy long enough to study it to be sure. Therefore, investigating it directly is unfortunately necessary.”

With a polite nod, he steps back, having finished his remarks.

“Once you find the source of the corruption, destroy it, if you can.” Adria says. “If it’s too dangerous, don’t do anything rash and just report back so that we can organize a charge with more forces.”

“Through the hydrath’s territory?” Yeriss asks. She’s surprised that they would put the regular forces up against something so dangerous. When it comes to hydraths, strength in numbers helps little, unless you know what you’re doing. “Wouldn’t there be casualties?”

“It’s almost certain.” Adria replies reluctantly. “But it’s the only way to destroy the corruption on the Island for good. We’ve expended more resources than we should have already.”

That’s not encouraging to hear. Yeriss vows that she won’t let it come to that anyways.

After answering some of the other soldiers' questions, everyone kits up, and Dougal and Adria are ready to send the group of soldiers on their way.

“Goddess Velik go with you.” Their tone is grave, like they expect the worst.

As her fellow soldiers reply in various versions of determined “Victory for Valkyon”s, all Yeriss feels is excitement. Instead of the usual path to Arun Heights, Yeriss finally gets to go down the other path to the east this time. Wild and seldom walked, the natural foliage of the island encroaches on the path.

It’s pretty at first, but the further south they go, the grayer and coarser the plant life. Unlike Arun Heights hill, the path to the hydrath’s territory is a much more gradual downward slope.

When they come upon the old bridge that leads across the ravine to the gorge, Yeriss doesn’t need Volis’s warning to know that there are hydraths ahead. Several of them line the path on the other side of the bridge, and unlike the other metallic-grey ones she’s seen, these are a striking deep shade of onyx. With two of the three shields that protect the Federation’s territory on the island behind them, only a single layer of magic holds back the palpable corruption.

“In order to get past though without being seen, we’ll have to go through that brush on the side of the hill there.” Jorhon, the older looking human man with a large battle axe strapped to his back says, pointing at it. “Nothing else looks thick enough.”

The tallest members of their group are Perrin, the high elf lancer, and Volis. Both light-skinned and two differing shades of blonde, they present the highest risk of being seen. Yeriss on the other hand, has nothing to worry about. Her red-tinted skin and dark horns blend in well with the thorny, corrupted brush and sparse trees.

“I’ll wait for the nearest one to turn it’s back before I bring down the shield.” Volis says as he lifts his staff.

Yeriss sees he intends to lift the stone up with magic, and back down for only a brief moment.

“I am not certain but it’s likely that if we can sense the dark energy in these monsters, they too could sense the clean, uncorrupted feeling of our own. We must be swift in breaking for the bushes, lest we are seen. Are we ready?”

Yeriss looks to the members of her group, who all nod in tandem. “Do it.”

“Go!”

At Volis’s cry, the group takes off across the bridge. The rotting old wood is thick, but noisy, and though she is light on her feet the sound of their haste is audible. It’s but a few seconds later that they hurtle into the brush for cover. As they catch their breath and cast worried glances out towards the hydraths, they are relieved to see they made it undetected.

“It’s like I always say.” Adrastus, the other lancer, a castanic like her, quips. “Keep your eyes on your opponents and your feet moving at all times.”

Davina cracks a smile at this. “I’m pretty sure not a day has gone by that I haven’t heard you say that to every new recruit that sets foot on this island.” Her twin daggers snip quietly as she cuts a path through errant twigs for them to walk through.

“Hey, wait a minute.” Adrastus says when they’re about halfway through. “Look at that.”

He’s pointing somewhere ahead of them. Past three onyx hydraths, floating about as they do, is an archway made of a dark pink-red stone. Short horizontal spikes poke out from the outside of the arch starting halfway up. The bottom half of each side sports a sconce in which a burning torch burns. A strange pink and gray orb of energy floats above the archway. Behind it, the entrance to a large cave.

The corrupted sporewalker core at the top of Volis’s staff starts to pulse and glow the same color as the orb above the archway.

“The source of the corruption…” Volis murmurs quietly. “It must be inside that cave.”

“This is strange.” Jorhon remarks. “Those archways are too well crafted and delicately engraved to be made by the hands of any of the large monsters we’ve observed here. Could it be that the corruption of the fey is not a coincidence, but intentional?”

“You mean there’s other humanoid races on the island apart from the Federation?” Davina says slowly. “That’s not good.”

“We’ve seen no evidence of any other intelligent races on the island, though.” Perrin refutes. “How could there be? Perhaps it is an older relic, like the World Tree.”

The sinister spikes of the archway look nothing remotely like the World Tree. But the confusion of trying to make ends of the situation before them swirls around them like the tepid air. Yeriss can’t think of anything either. That stuff has never been her strong suit.

“So… let’s get a closer look and find out.” She says, not seeing the point in further speculating.

“Alright.” Adrastus lifts a leg to stretch his quadricep in anticipation of another run. “We’ll have to be fast to get past those hydraths, I say we rac-.”

“Wait.” Jorhon cuts in. “It’s too risky. If we’re seen, we’ll be in for a fight with three of them at the least, and all the ones we saw on the way at most. And there’s no guarantee there aren’t even more of them waiting inside the cave.”

“There’s a large boulder over there we could hide behind.” Volis points to the right of the cave. “I could cloak our presence, but only for a time. The dark energy here depletes my mana reserves.”

Perrin and Jorhon look to each other, and then to Volis.

“A risky wager, but the Federation needs this information. We shouldn’t give up the chance to destroy the source of the corruption until all other options have been exhausted.” Perrin says.

“Very well.” Jorhon acquiesces.

Volis’s staff hums with energy as he casts the spell. As soon as the distortion settles around them, they run out of the foliage for the cover of the boulder. Adrastus is first to duck behind the rock, Yeriss hot on his heels. Sprinting headlong across the dirt, Perrin, Jorhon, and Volis are but five strides away, with Davina a short distance behind them due to her much smaller gait.

Suddenly, Volis goes pale. With a flicker, the distortive veil spell lifts off the group. The three men just barely make it behind the rock before being seen.

Unmistakable screeching, and a sound like an allemantheian power generator being turned on break the silence. Clearly aware of having been seen, Davina stands frozen in spot, mind whirling. Realizing that she can’t let the hydrath know of the others’ location, she whispers“ Go on without me” and gives them a brief, reassuring smile. Then she whirls on her feet, running to the side to draw it away from them. Unable to risk looking out in front of the rock, all the information they get is the fading sound of the hydrath’s low hum and it’s hissing metallic snake heads.

“Shit.” Adrastus curses.

“My deepest apologies.” Volis sounds distraught, words tumbling out of his mouth in a rush. “The dark mana was stronger than I anticipated-”

“It’s not your fault Volis.” Jorhon interrupts him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We knew this was risky.”

“...” Volis doesn’t look like this comforts him, his features are twisted into an expression of guilt.

“What shall we do now?” Perrin asks. “It is unlikely we will be able to assist her without alerting the rest of the hydraths. If we do so, it will be impossible to get back to this point.”

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” Adrastus asks incredulously. “We go back through the brush and try to find her without getting seen, forget the mission.”

Yeriss blinks. “Forget the mission? No! We can’t give up now, we haven’t even found the true source of the corruption yet. We’d be going back completely empty handed.”

“That’s better than going back without Davina!” Adrastus shoots back. “Don’t you know who she is?”

“Huh?”

“She’s the younger sister of one of Consul Dougal’s best friends!”

Yeriss doesn’t see the issue, but the reminder apparently affects the rest of the group deeply, each face suddenly drawn. No way. They’re really going to stop when they’re less than twenty meters away? The entrance to the cave is right there!

“Didn’t he and Adria pick each of us specifically because we’d proven our ability to go one on one with a hydrath before? Didn’t Davina herself just say for us to go on ahead without her? The Federation needs this Island!” Yeriss insists impatiently.

It must be because they don’t know, she thinks, that the Federation doesn’t have long to secure and claim the island before the Mysterium starts bearing down on them. And everyone knows once the Mysterium gets its hands on a site they want to research, it’s too late to do anything to disturb the area. Not to mention build a training base on it.

“Perrin?” Yeriss turns to him, hoping for back-up due to his earlier comment. Perrin is silent. “Volis?”

The answer on the high elf’s face is clear. Yeriss can’t believe this. “No way. You know how bad the corruption is.” She reminds him. “We need to at least find it so that you and the researchers can come up with a way to destroy it, right?”

“...Davina getting seen was my own mistake.” Volis says, guilt overtaking his expression. “I must go see it rectified.”

Clearly unanimous in their decision, Yeriss tries one last ditch attempt to convince them. “How about we kill these two hydraths and then try to signal her? You can do that with your magic, can’t you Volis?”

The group actually considers this for a moment.

“That would mean taking on two of them at once, while down one of us. I wouldn’t bet on those odds.” Perrin says slowly.

No wonder he carries such a big shield. Coward. Has he really taken one down on his own before?

“I’ve killed one before and I can do it again.” Yeriss says firmly. “Don’t worry. This is what we’re here to do, Perrin.”

“What about Davina?”

“She’s not the type to lie is she?” From what Yeriss knows of the younger castanic, she’s kind and honest to a fault. Rare qualities for one of her kind. “She can handle herself.”

“No. Unlike normal hydraths, these onyx ones are brutal.” Jorhon says, with a tone of finality. “I witnessed them take down a whole squad of soldiers during the first expedition. We’re going to save Davina before it’s too late.”

This is ridiculous! A veteran from the First Expedition, and he’s afraid of two measly monsters that they outnumber more than two to one! Frustration boils up inside her at his commanding tone. It’s as if he is in charge, and she is just a rookie. She’s earned her place here more than any of these pigling-nerved cowards.

“You’ll be going without me then.”

“What?” Adrastus’s grey eyes bug wide like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “I don’t like going back with nothing to show either, but come on Yerenica, it’s too dangerous on your own.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m not afraid of a few hydraths. And I won’t need to, if you come with me.”

“Enough of this.” Jorhon says dismissively. “We’re leaving.”

“What?” Yeriss is shocked. “Who made you the leader? Can’t you at least consider my plan?”

“The longer we delay, the more likely it could be too late to help Davina. Let’s go.”

This time, Volis is meticulously careful with his spell, and the group makes it back into the brush without complication. But as they all flicker back into sight, Yeriss reappears across from them, still behind the boulder. Jorhon’s eyes bore into hers, willing her to come. She stares right back, unintimidated. After a moment’s hesitation, they leave, creeping along the foliage on the very edge of it this time, in the direction Davina went.

When they are gone, a bit of doubt swirls in her chest. Should she have done that? She hadn’t meant to lose her temper… Jorhon’s authoritative tone echoes in her mind, and anger replaces the doubt. The way he’d spoken to her… Yeriss seethes. Enough caring what everyone else thought. If he was going to treat her like an underling, she’d just have to prove that she wasn’t one.

Yeriss risks a peek out from behind the boulder to assess the current situation. The two hydraths are still there. She could take them out, like she suggested earlier. But now that she’s alone, she’s got another option.

Picking up a loose bit of rock from the bottom of the boulder, she rears back and launches it over the top of the rock as far away from her as possible. It strikes something in the distance. Once she hears the hovering hum sound of the hydrath’s movement fade, she makes for the cave entrance. It’s easy, and she’s not being pursued at all. With a last bound she makes it inside, and darkness swallows her up almost immediately.

Yeriss steps further inside. Squinting her eyes at the drastic change in light, she waits impatiently for her eyes to adjust.

“It’s darker than Poporia after Karas cursed it in here.” She mutters.

Eventually giving up on waiting, she just walks sideways until she hits the wall, and then places a hand against it to follow it. Quickly, the level ground slopes downward. It would be bad if she were to trip, but the ground is surprisingly free of the kind of rocks and debris you’d expect in a cave, instead having the consistency of a well-walked path.

A ways ahead of her are glowing torch lights. To her surprise, it sounds like there are people ahead. How could anyone have possibly gotten here before her? Rushing forward to get a closer look, she sees people who look very much like her, but... a foot or two taller with much bigger horns. Devas! They all wear a similar style of garb: pointy red linmetal armor with a motif on the chest like a plant with three branches sticking out straight on each side and atop it, a horizontal eye surrounded by a diamond. Her relief that they are not federation recruits who beat her here is short-lived.

I feel like I’ve seen that symbol somewhere before… but regardless, the Deva relentlessly worship evil gods. Could they be the source of the corruption?

“Lord Kugai,” One of them says as they take a knee to another. “We chased the elf through the catacombs, but he was too fast. He managed to destroy all of the mana potions in the cache we stole. What shall I tell our sorcerers?”

“Take heart, my friend. Our trials are many but Lok watches over us and will commend us for our efforts when he returns. Encourage them to continue channeling Karascha’s energy into the Divine Tree for as long as they can. Our sources within the Federation tell us that supply ships are to arrive within the week, or perhaps even sooner in light of their continued defeat to our pets in the Gorge.”

Yeriss stiffens. Sources within the Federation? The very idea of a traitor in the Federation is almost unthinkable.

“Will mana potions be among the supplies?” The devan subordinate asks.

“It’s almost certain. There are many gravely wounded among their number and there’s no doubt their priests are struggling to keep up.” The devan lord, Kugai, clasps his hands together. “Unlike Lakan, Lok will not forsake us. See to it that the sorcerers maintain their spell.”

“Yes, my lord. But what about the elf?”

“Hmm… he cannot stay hidden forever. Like us, he will need food and water. We will deal with him when he next reveals himself.”

“Surely it would be faster to hunt him down. I could assemble a task force-”

“No. Every available member of our fold must remain guarding the sorcerers. Karascha is strong enough to hold his own, but should we lose our connection to the World Tree, our resurrection ritual will be interrupted.”

“As you wish, sir. I will go notify them that the potions they expected will be delayed.”

Despite her knowledge that they are in fact of the same race, hearing this cult’s ridiculous intentions to revive Lok , the god who tricked them into killing Balder, whose demonic remains literally corrupt the lands of Essenia still to this day makes Yeriss angry. Like a stain that refuses to wash out, Devas have always been a smear on all castanics’ reputations. Stuff like this is why everyone assumes you’re up to no good if you’ve got horns and red skin. As if suffering the scalding pain of getting her markings as a teen wasn’t enough of a punishment.

Yeriss grits her teeth and grips the handle of her greatsword. Including Lord Kugai, there’s maybe fifteen of them in the room.

Launching herself out the shadows, she swings her sword hard across the turned backs of the three cultists nearest her. The loud clang of her sword against their armor alerts the others, and with a shocked pause they watch as the other cultists collapse to the ground dead. A large dent in the armor of their lower backs reveals the blow that shattered their spines.

“Intruder!” Belatedly, the others shout and draw their weapons.

Deflecting the hasty blow of a greataxe, she quickly reverses and catches their side and shoulder in an upward sweep. Most of them are using typical devan twin curved blades, and with a great thrust she skewers through several before they can get near enough to cut at her.

“You, go alert the others, we need reinforcements!” Lord Kugai commands one of the cultists at his side.

Unwilling to be overwhelmed in such an enclosed space, Yeriss uses her sword to vault her up over the wall of enemies in front of her and uses the force of her leap to bring her sword down hard on the retreating back of the cultist. The devan screams out in surprise and collapses to her knees. Yeriss brings her sword back up just in time to block Lord Kugai’s blade, and stumbles back a step from the force of it. Pain rattles up her arms.

“Nice try.” She bites, before slamming him back. Before she can take advantage of his vulnerability, there’s someone beside her raising their axe in rage. There’s not much space to fully roll out of the way, so as she comes up out of the roll she brings her sword up in a left to right sweeping motion, catching the cultists across it as her blade travels sideways, making space. Several of them slam against the cave wall.

While slashing in front of her to drive back three cultists trying to rush her with stabbing thrusts, she notices a retreating horned form disappearing down the tunnel. Damned cultists. Her moment of distraction costs her a cut to her upper arm and two across her shoulder.

The three of them that are left, and Kugai, advance towards her. Kugai comes straight at her while the others break off to the side. Not allowing herself to be completely surrounded, she thrusts as hard as she can into the cultist to her right, before swinging around her blade, using their body as a buffer between her and Kugai.

Holding her greatsword out lengthwise in front of her warningly, she addresses Kugai directly. “Tell them to stop this ritual, or I’ll strike you down! How many real people will you sacrifice to resurrect an evil god better off dead?”

Reinforcements arrive then, what must be twenty more armed cultists sealing off the tunnel exits. Yeriss doesn’t budge.

“Not a chance!” Kugai spits back, emboldened by the return of favorable odds. “How dare you call our lord evil? Lok may have killed Balder, but it was a tragic accident. He was tricked by Ishara! All Lok’s life, he was a force for good, and a beloved child of Karas and Elinu just as Balder was!” Kugai yells, and lunges at her. “He will free us just like he did the amani from their chains!”

Yeriss dodges one blade and deflects the other, but the movement drives her too close to two others behind her. One knocks her greatsword from her grip while the other binds her to them in a crushing grasp.

“As one of our kind, you should share his burden! We endure this pain for him!” The cultist behind her, a woman, hisses into her ear as she struggles to escape her grip, only bloodying her elbow as it meets hard plating instead of flesh as she throws a jab behind her. “You will make an excellent servant for our lord as a hydrath. You and that blighted elf. Be honored!”

“Indeed. A most fitting arrangement.” Lord Kugai seems to like this idea, sheathing one twin blade. He reaches out to pry her armor away from her stomach, and Yeriss suddenly realizes how hydraths are made. He intends to sever her at the waist! Yeriss squirms harder, but to no avail.

“I’m afraid I have to disagree. I don’t much like the idea of living life half upside down with a woman I hardly know.” A new voice breaks through the excited bloodthirsty silence of the cultists. Kugai relinquishes his grip on her armor and whirls around to look for the source.

“Though I’m sure you’re excellent company, my reckless friend,” The voice continues, “Not many a sense of humor survives a demonic ritual.”

Everyone turns to face the tunnel on their right, where a tall high elf man stands on top of the fallen bodies of the four guarding it. Behind him several others are slumped lifeless against the wall.

Taking advantage of their surprise, Yeriss grips the arms of her captor hard, hanging all her weight on them before she swings her lower body forward and kicks Kugai hard in the side. The shift in her weight causes her captor to drop her, and Yeriss rolls to her side on the floor where her greatsword fell, picking it up as she leaps to her feet.

“It’s a good thing I don’t intend to be a part of any demonic rituals then.” She calls back to her helper. This must be the elf they mentioned sabotaging their potions. His dirtied silver armor somehow glints brightly in the dim light. “But I’m great company for crashing one. Or ten.”

“What great news. I just joined the market for such a person. There’s a really ugly one going on-'' He pauses to block a blow from one of the greataxe-wielding cultists, then dispatches the devan man with a double bladed stab that he rips outward in both directions. “-Not too far from here.”

That must be the source of the corruption! It’s a relief she doesn’t have to look for it without Volis’s guidance.

“Count me in.” Yeriss smacks her blade across several enemies in a great knockdown strike, sending them rolling like bowling balls. Another cultist tries to get in close, but her quick reflexes have them skewered on her sword first. “That’s exactly what I came here for.”

Reinforcements already more than halved, Kugai seems to notice that his people are losing this battle. He turns to retreat to the tunnel, but Yeriss is already flinging herself across the room, landing on his back in a tumbling tackle.

“Not so fast, mister holy worshipper. What happened to being willing to sacrifice yourself for your precious Lok?” She taunts, struggling to keep the large devan man pinned. In the corner of her eye she notices the high elf man send the last two cultists crumpling to the ground. “I’ll spare you if you tell us how to stop the corruption.”

“No need, my reckless friend.” The elf says, coming up on her side. “I already know. There’s a large, evil demon made from Lok’s demonic remains further down in this cave. Kill it, and we kill off their corrupting source.”

“Hah! Kill it? You’ll never manage to kill Karascha. Even if you could, you wouldn’t get past the shield to our sorcerers. Death will only release the rest of his corruptive essence all at once.” Kugai bites out, and Yeriss grips him by the horns to push his face in the dirt where it belongs. “It’s only a matter of time before we take over the divine essence left in the World Tree. Lok will live again!”

Choosing to believe the elf over the desperate cultist, she brings her greatsword down through the back of his chest, silencing Kugai for good. After the devan chokes out his last breath, Yeriss stands up and dusts herself off. A large circular object rolls out of the dead cultist lord’s hand - a metallic thing the size of a compass, with the same diamond eye symbol they all wear on it. Yeriss takes it for herself. War trophy.

“So.” The high elf man’s gaze flickers from her face down to the federation crest on her neck. “‘Yerenica.’ Congratulations on officially being the first Federation soldier to make it down here in weeks. At all, actually. Why are you by yourself?”

The question throws Yeriss off guard. For a second, she doubts her decision to press on alone. But no, she was right in coming here. The Federation needs this island, and nobody back at base even has a clue that there were Lokian Cultists here. The high elf probably just thinks the rest of her squad died or something.

“Because I’m the only one on my squad who Kaia gave any balls, apparently.” She says boldly, meeting his curious gaze. “What about you?” She turns the question back on him, pointedly looking at his armor, distinctly lacking in an identifying badge.

After all, upon closer examination, he doesn’t look like a Federation soldier. He looks like he hasn’t slept in a week, although some high elves do have a naturally gray pallor to their skin. Certainly handsome, but there’s no mistaking those dark circles. It’s almost like eye shadow.

“Ah, right. I forgot to include myself in that count, eh? I’m not really a soldier but I am part of the Valkyon Federation, rest assured. My name is Elleon.”

Yeriss’s eyes bug. Elleon? The Elleon Kubel, argon war hero and missing leader of the First Expedition? All of a sudden the gray pallor of his skin seems more like silver, and the gold of his eyes shinier.

“Did you know your brother is looking for you?” Is all she can think to say.

Elleon raises a brow. “Leander is here? That didn’t take long. Why isn’t he with you, then?”

“Actually, Dougal and Adria did ask him to come along on our mission, but he refused to do anything not directly related to finding you as quickly as possible. He’s been here looking for almost two weeks already. The second best sorcerer on the island had to come in his stead.”

Elleon blinks. “Ah. All of a sudden the wind of Zenobia is beneath my feet. Let us make haste to the demon’s lair, my friend.” He’s already moving by the time he finishes talking, not even throwing a glance over his shoulder to confirm his words.

Yeriss bounds after him, pausing to grab a torch off a wall sconce, and follows Elleon’s lead through the tunnels. They pass many banners sporting the red diamond eye of Lok, and crates marked with the federation crest. Stolen, no doubt. Eventually the cave opens up into a wide underground cavern. High above them is a large pink orb of energy, like the one outside the cave. Strange arched windows filled with colorful stained glass adorn each wall of the cave, like some kind of underground church. Something large shifts in the shadows, and moves into sight.

“It’s a vulcan.” Yeriss remarks with a surprised whisper as she takes in Karascha’s form. “But purple. And with wings.”

“You say that like you’ve seen one before.”

“Yeah, I’ve got lots of experience taking these down. They’re supposed to be green, though.”

“Hmm.” Elleon muses. “Now that you mention it, the color is remarkably similar to the cursed remains of Lok south of Tria in the Blighted Wood, eh?”

“Oh really? I wouldn’t know.” She shrugs. “I’ve never been to Shara… what’s that behind it?” Yeriss asks, looking at the large arched doorway behind the demon. Instead of a door, a magic barrier shimmers across an invisible surface, veiling whatever is in the room on the other side.

“The core of the World Tree, and all of Kugai’s precious sorcerers. Perhaps fourty in number. Karascha sends his essence through the barrier and they channel it into the core, corrupting it. It is a delicate process.” Elleon smirks. “Kugai was quite confident despite knowing this. Killing the demon will release massive energy, true. But their sorcerers are tired and all but drained of mana. This is the perfect time for us to strike to kill.”

“Great! What are we waiting for?” Yeriss sets the torch down and unsheathes her greatsword. Before she can charge into the cavern, Elleon outstretches a hand in front of her, blocking her path.

“Not so fast, my reckless friend. You should know this is not some mindless beast. Be wary of Karascha’s curses- try to prevent him from casting them, if you can.”

Before Yeriss can ask what he means, a deep two-timbre voice booms through the cavern. “So, the meddling elf is back for another beating. I see you’ve brought a friend with you this time. Hah!” The demon’s laughter grates like gravel. “You should’ve brought an army.”

A large stone collides with the tunnel wall beside them. The two of them instinctively dodge out the way of the flying debris, sending them further into the room.

Recovering from her shock of a vulcan talking, Yeriss rises up and races towards Karascha, sword high.

“He doesn’t need an army. He’s got me.” She says with a grin, dodging the demon’s fist as it pummels the ground behind her, and slashes the demon across the chest. Karascha steps back from the blow, and Elleon is behind him ready, raking his blades down the demon’s back. Roaring, the demon suddenly extends his wings and swipes in front of him at the same time, sending the two of them flying.

Yeriss gasps as her back hits the wall painfully. Elleon tumbles backward to a rough stop. But with a shared look, they are up again, moving in sync as they approach the demon. This time Yeriss stabs for the heart, but Karascha dodges and her greatsword instead screeches across the metal plate guarding the demon’s neck, throwing up sparks. Dark red, almost black blood bursts from Karascha’s shoulder as the tip of one of Elleon’s blades appears through the flesh.

Karascha shakes like a dog, trying to dislodge the elf from his back. Yeriss plunges her greatsword through the other shoulder. Before she can try to drive her blade downward, a huge hand suddenly grasps her face. She hears a muffled outcry of pain from Elleon, but can’t see what happened to him.

Letting go of her sword, she struggles to escape the crushing grip that digs into the back of her head, feeling warm blood trickle down her neck from where the claws of the beast pierce her skin. It’s not working, but Yeriss has horns. Instead of trying to get out of the grip, she takes both hands and forces it down hard on her head, impaling the demon’s hand on her horns.

Suddenly she is free, and she falls to her knees to gasp for air. Dizzily scrambling to her feet, she closes in again, narrowly avoiding a swipe from the demon’s non-injured hand to grasp her greatsword -still embedded in Karascha’s shoulder- and yanks downwards as hard as she can. Karascha screams out in pain, a noise that rattles Yeriss’s ears. Unable to help it, she hastily pulls out her greatsword and gets away from the loud sound. As she backs away, Elleon steps up behind her, steadying her with a hand on her shoulder. He’s limping slightly, and she sees blood staining the silver armor of his right leg.

“Pests that don’t understand anything and get in the way should just die!” Karascha yells, and then begins chanting in a demonic language. Yeriss can’t distinguish the sounds well, but he seems to repeat something that sounds like Haargwahrosh . The long claws that are attached to his glove begin to glow an eerie blue, siphoning energy from the pink ball hovering high in the air above the arch.

Behind her, Elleon stiffens. “Not good. We must stop him, or we’ll suffer.”

Karascha is chanting Ganiir-bolohosh now. Lacking inspiration on how else to shut him up, Yeriss leans back and chucks her greatsword, blade-first, right at Karascha’s face. By luck, and some decent aim, her sword slips through the grate of his face plate. She can’t see what damage she’s done, but the demon’s dark blood pools and seeps through the face plate to splatter on the ground. Stunned into silence, it takes Karascha a moment to react.

In the most ginger manner a demon can have, it extricates her blade from it’s face and tosses it aside, the metal clanging against the stone floor of the cave. Before she can react, Karascha slams his fist on the ground in front of her, shattering the stone and sending her flying towards the stained glass window. Yeriss crashes into the window, breaking the glass and sending shards flying. Nothing is behind the window but the hard stone of the wall, and her body bounces off it and she slides down to crumple on the ground, leaving a trail of blood in her wake where the shards of glass have embedded in her back past her zalisleather armor.

Though the wounds aren’t deep, the collision knocked the air out of her. For a minute all she can do is kneel and try to breathe. Karascha gives a sadistic laugh of pleasure, and makes to close in. Before he can take so much as a step, Elleon is sailing through the air and slashing both swords through the demon’s wings. There is a heavy thump as they slump uselessly to the ground. The ruined stumps of Karascha’s wings give a twitch as he shakes in dismay. Before Yeriss can blink, the demon is reaching behind him, snatching up the elf, and throwing him to the ground.

Already scrambling up off her knees, she sees Elleon’s attempt to push himself up fail as his injured leg gives. Karascha’s claws glint in the darkness as he rears back.

“No, stop!” She yells, desperately launching herself in between the two.

Just barely catching the blow, Karascha’s claws, intended for Elleon, collide with the flat of her blade instead. Yeriss stumbles back a couple steps. Unwilling to be thwarted, the demon continues to press back against her sword. In moments, her arm begins to tremble, and sweat rolls down the back of her neck, stinging the small wounds there. Her stance was hasty, and her footing doesn’t lend her much strength. But letting go means the death of her new friend, so she won’t.

Bending her knees and shifting her feet as much as she can, she stabilizes herself and renews the strength of her push. Behind her, Elleon grunts as he shakes off his daze and tries to get up, but his wounded leg gives under him and he stumbles back down.

Locking eyes with the gleam of the demon’s own beyond it’s daunting faceplate, Yeriss realizes the beast’s strain mirrors her own. The blood he loses will continue to weaken him. In seconds, she will win. As if also realizing this, Karascha suddenly begins his chant again in haste.

“Haargwahrosh, haargwahrosh, ganiir-bolohosh, ganiir-bolohosh-”

“No no no, shut up you son of an orcan!” She struggles to move against the stalemate, knowing she has to silence him before he can-

“Yeprasiabalolosh!”

There’s a brief moment of quiet dread, and then across her body, a quiet heat begins to grow. Uncomfortable quickly grows to terrible, sizzling heat all over her stomach, arms, legs, and back. Pressing her lips together she struggles not to loosen her grip, unable to stop a whimper as reflexive tears start to drip down her face. She’s only ever felt pain like this in her life once before. After she finished her Crucible. A pained grunt behind her confirms her companion’s own suffering.

“Stupid little thing. You dared to defy Lok and his servants with his very mark upon you.” The demon laughs wetly. “It amplifies the pain of my curse two-fold.”

“Ngh… aaargh!” Yeriss bites down her screams, refusing to give the demon any additional satisfaction. “Don’t be... so smug when... you can’t even win a fair fight!” She trembles all over, but stubbornly refuses to let go, holding her blade fast against the demon’s claws.

Suddenly, Karascha stumbles to the side and her greatsword slides free as the demon’s claws leave the interlock. Her first thought is that he succumbed to his wounds, but then she sees a fresh deep gash across the demon’s legs. Elleon is crouched to the side of them, blood dripping off his twin swords, and she realizes that he must have rolled between them to land the blow. Genius.

Wasting no time in pressing their advantage, Yeriss uses all her willpower to ignore the pain that courses through her body like a livewire and whacks the demon hard with the flat of her greatsword, sending him tumbling. When he’s on the ground she leaps up and drives her blade straight down. Karascha’s armor does nothing to deflect such a direct hit, and she pierces the demon through the heart. The curse dies with him.

Shuddering with relief as her markings stop burning, she watches the last twitch of the demon’s death throes. When Karascha is finally still, she straightens up and turns to Elleon.

“It’s dead.” She announces matter-of-factly.

Elleon blinks and gives a breathless laugh as he gingerly rises to his feet. “Are you sure? Better poke it a few times in case it’s just playing, eh?”

“It’s not a city garbage rat.” Yeriss says, but taps the demon’s face plate with the tip of her greatsword a couple times. “Yep, definitely dea-”

Before she can finish, there’s a boom as the pink orb explodes overhead, and in the room ahead. Elleon flinches and assumes an instinctive combat stance, but all that happens is a brief rain of particles of magic as they fall and dissipate around them.

Relaxing, Elleon re-sheathes his swords. “Ah. Now it is dead.”

“What was that?”

“Just as I expected, Kugai told no lie that killing Karascha would release all his demonic energy at once. And just as I expected, his sorcerers would be too drained and too few to contain the blast. We should go check to make sure, however.”

Yeriss nods and jumps down off Karascha. They approach the arched doorway. It still shimmers with energy, but turns a different color when they get near it. Hands resting on their weapons, they step in.

~~~

Materializing on the other side of the barrier as they cross through, Yeriss sees that Elleon was right in his prediction. The bodies of the devan sorcerers lay collapsed around the great roots of the tree. Not only was Karascha’s energy too much for them to contain, in its potency, it killed them. It’s a relief. Tired and wounded from the fight with Karascha, it would have been a pain in the ass to fight a bunch of pissed off cultist sorcerers. She would’ve done it of course, gladly, but there would have been complaints afterward. Many complaints.

One last moving devan sorcerer, a woman, crawls feebly towards the rapidly fading light of Karascha’s energy as it drains from the root of the tree.

“No… no…” She sobs weekly. Her breathing is harsh and labored, each breath a great wheeze. When she sees the two of them, her expression contorts into grief. “How could you? We were finally going to be-” She breaks off with a wheezing cough. “Free!”

“Zuras, Balder, Lakan, every living creature from Arun to Shara… have forsaken us. Slaughtered us.” She sounds so bitter, Yeriss feels a pang of guilt. “ I just wanted to live in peace with my son. I thought…”

For several moments the woman is silent and still, and for a second Yeriss thinks she is dead. But when she steps tentatively closer, she sees the woman’s lip trembling as she gazes at something fallen on the ground in front of her. It’s an open locket with a bundle of brown hair, just like the woman’s own. With a final breath, the woman’s gaze hazes over and she slumps against the ground.

Wow. Yeriss takes in a deep shaky breath, not having expected that at all. Processing what she just witnessed, it takes her a minute to realize that Elleon is looking at her strangely. Feeling the burning of his gaze, she feels pressured to say… something.

“I won’t lie. My kind have it rough, and in the past it was much worse.” She raises her chin and meets his eyes. “But resurrecting a demon god? I know that would have only brought more evil and pain to this world. I’m proud of what we did.”

“Good.” Elleon’s gaze goes distant for a moment, as though being reminded of something. “It is one thing to do evil. To be evil is another. It’s... a shame that some are driven to such extremes by circumstance.”

“Did that happen to someone close to you?” She guesses tentatively, from the tone of his voice.

“Me? No. I was thinking of the traitor within the Federation, actually. I am lucky to say I fully trust those closest to me never to betray me, no matter how dire the circumstances.”

“Oh right!” Yeriss recalls the vassal’s earlier words to Kugai. She’d forgotten about it in the chaos. She kneels on the ground to take a closer look at the fallen sorcerer closest to her. “They said ‘ sources within the Federation .’ Could there really be a traitor so high up they’d know about the top secret Island?”

“Yes. I’ve had my suspicions for a while, but being here confirmed them. It seems even being chosen to lead the First Expedition was planned as a way to get rid of me.” Elleon says as he rips some fabric off his cape to bandage his leg with, sitting down on the floor to do so. “I’ve had the chance to overhear a great many things while hiding out in the tunnels.”

“Did you find out who it is, then?” Yeriss asks.

“Unfortunately, no. I have my own guess as to who it could be, but without evidence it’s impossible to be sure.” Elleon exhales irritatedly in a way that suggests there wasn’t a shortage of searching for search evidence on his part.

Yeriss frowns and casts a glance over at the core of the tree, which despite the recent demonic interference now seems as serene as nature can be. “Well that sucks.”

She meant to approach the plinth in the front of the room to hope some answer would magically pop out of the tree itself, but as she stands her world suddenly careens and shifts dizzily.

“Woah.” She says, stumbling backward into the root behind her.

“Yerenica!” Elleon looks at her in concern, already half standing to come to her aid. “Have you been injured badly?”

Yeriss hastily waves him off. “Nah, I’m fine. Just stood too fast.” The majority of her wounds are bruises, but now that the adrenaline is starting to wear off, the pieces of glass in her back are starting to sting.

“I see. Hmm.”

“What?” She asks defensively. It’s true, it’s really not that bad. His leg wound is without a doubt worse than any of hers, and she didn’t even get to see the extent of it.

“Though the source of the corruption is gone, there will still be hydraths between us and the tower base camp. We’ll need to move quickly.” Elleon suddenly rises and begins weaving between the bodies, searching them for something.

“What are you-”

“I personally saw to it that their supply of mana potions was destroyed. But I’m willing to bet we can find someone with a health potion. No reason not to give ourselves the best chance at being present for our own victory speech, eh?”

That has her imagining the look of begrudging respect even prideful Winra and stuffy Sein will have on their faces when she comes back with the news that she not only found the source of the corruption, but destroyed it, along with the rest of the cultists that had been living right under the Federation’s nose. And found the missing Elleon, to put the cherry on top of the sugar cake. Suddenly she can’t wait to be out of here and back at camp. The smile that parts her lips is wide, and she pushes off the root to join her friend in his search.

“That’s a good idea. I’ll search this half.”

For the next few minutes they crouch by the bodies of the fallen cultists, checking pockets and satchels.

Plenty of keys, coins, and other personal effects later, Yeriss has yet to find a health potion. From Elleon’s silence, he hasn’t either. Unclipping another satchel from a cultist’s belt loop, she flips up the leather flap. But when she reaches in, instead of glass, she feels paper.

Curiously, she takes it out and unfolds it. It’s probably just trash.

At the top of the paper, something is written in what looks like castanic, but not quite. Must be deva. The two languages are really similar, so she can read almost all of it, and the rest she can easily guess. It says:

My loyal friend, and fellow devotee to our Lord, your complaints have not fallen on deaf ears. Your goals and my goals are the same. The reason I have failed to return some of your number in haste as you requested was not due to my own wishes, but rather those of our benefactor. I know you grow weary of my own words, so have a look for yourself. -Kugai

Below it is a letter, written in neat, bold human.

Lord Kugai,

I heard of the complications your group are experiencing with the task I asked of you. I fully understand the importance of your efforts regarding the tree. Surely your sorcerers are not so incompetent that you cannot spare even half a dozen to hunt him down and finish him. How hard is it to kill a single, lone man in your own territory? I’ve received your request for more supplies. A supply ship is making its way to the Island and should arrive within a few days. The potions will be within the crate that I’ve had marked with the usual symbol. I hope my faith in our alliance is still warranted. I expect to receive the good news that you finally put the Federation’s dog down for good. Don’t expect any additional supplies until you do.

-B

No way. “Um, Elleon?” She calls, not looking up from the paper.

“Hm? What is it? Have you found something?”

“I think… the evidence you’ve been looking for.” Yeriss says slowly. It was one thing to come to know of the traitor in general. But to see that it was the truth, solidly presented in ink and parchment was another thing entirely. The Valkyon Federation was huge, and had amassed great power from the alliance of several of the most advanced societies in Arborea. A traitor, especially one high enough up in the ranks to know of the Island of Dawn and the specific people and supplies present on the expeditions, was a devastating thought.

Elleon is by her side in moments. “Let me see.”

Yeriss readily hands him the paper.

“Ah. Devan.” He remarks. “Can you read it?”

“Yeah, of course. It says...” After explaining the contents of the cultist’s addition to the letter, Yeriss steps back as Elleon reads the rest. His gray lips press together the more he reads, but when he’s finished they quirk up into a smirk.

“Excellent work.” He says, sounding pleased. “This confirms many things. I’m sure Dougal will agree.”

“Consul Dougal knows about the traitor?”

“Indeed. He was the first to have suspicions, actually, and shared them with me.” Elleon stoops down and plucks something up off the ground by the cultist’s other hip. “Aha. You missed something, my reckless friend.”

A vermillion health potion sloshes in the small glass vial between his gloved fingers.

“Hey! I would have found it. Right away, if I hadn’t been busy finding your much-needed evidence. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Elleon laughs at her affronted tone. “I’m teasing you, Yerenica.”

“Oh. ...” The way his gold eyes sparkle with mischief in the dim light makes her feel strange. Breaking eye contact, she instead impatiently gestures at the vial. “Hurry up and drink some already and let’s head back.”

“Ladies first.” Elleon says, holding it out to her. Yeriss raises her eyebrows at him and doesn’t budge.

“People with serious leg injuries first.”

He takes it back without protest and uncorks the vial, taking a couple mouthfuls. He hands it back to her, halfway full, and watches her quietly as she presses the glass to her lips and finishes the rest. The cloying taste of crimson essence is unpleasant as ever, but the relief she feels as the rapidly healing wounds in her back push out the glass shards that land with little clink-clink s on the floor is palpable. She’d need more to heal her bruises, but there are priests back at camp that can help her with that. For now, she’s all set to make a victory dash back to base.

The cover of night makes the run back through hydrath territory a breeze compared to her earlier foray with company. Elleon is quick - extremely quick, in fact. So much so that she loses sight of him in the brush, following the path Davina cut through it earlier back down. He’s waiting for her by the bridge by the time she arrives.

Kaia’s flaming sword, the barrier! She completely forgot about it. But before she can even open her mouth to ask what they should do, Elleon leans back and launches his sword through the air. With knife sharp precision, it wedges itself between the source stone and it’s bed, lifting it up just high enough to deactivate the shield. Genius, again. She hadn’t even thought to use the way it only barricaded living things, not material, to get by.

They make haste across the bridge, and Elleon removes his sword from beneath the stone in a fluid motion as he passes by, not even having to stop to do so. It’s not long before they encounter some of the Federation’s guards patrolling the area, and with a surprised shout as they are recognized, one of them breaks off the group and accompanies them back to camp.

~~~

A kind pair of priests -an older human woman and a gentle demeanored baraka- tend to Yeriss and Elleon’s wounds as they sit around the quietly crackling fire in Dougal’s personal tent. As smoke spirals out of the opening in the canvas roof up to the stars, Dougal himself leans forward in his chair with concern as they begin to report.

“As much as you know I appreciate your speed, you two, I wouldn’t have minded if you had taken some time to recover first.” Dougal gives the plate full of tiny red-tinted glass fragments the priest had extricated from Yeriss’s back a glance. “In fact, I really would’ve preferred it.”

“You know I don’t like to waste time.” Elleon says with a shrug, but gives the man an appreciative look for his consideration. One of his silver boots lays on its side by his chair, but despite being bare from his toes to his knee one on leg, he still manages to have distinct poise.

Yeriss nods in agreement with Elleon’s sentiment.

Dougal raises an eyebrow, but shakes his head and rests his hands on his knees. “Alright, since you insist. Let’s start off with you, Yerenica. I heard from Jorhon that you stayed behind to finish the mission while they went to help Davina.”

Yeriss stiffens. Uh oh. Dougal had put it quite nicely just then, but she had her doubts that he was using the same words Jorhon had. Not when she had disagreed so blatantly with the rest of the group. “Ah, yes sir. Um, were they able to reach and help Davina?”

“Yes. Actually, she had already managed to take down the Hydrath pursuing her by the time they caught up to her.” Dougal makes a fond expression. “I have to say I wasn’t at all surprised to hear that. She’s very much like her sister in that aspect.”

Elleon makes a very quiet sound. Or coughs, she can’t quite tell.

“Oh, I see.” Yeriss is confused. Where’s the lecture she was anticipating?

“Unfortunately, they had to compromise their cover to chase after her, so at that point they were being pursued by quite a few of the hydraths. They had no choice but to retreat back to the base. Being so close on the other side of the barrier meant I couldn’t send any reinforcements in after you, I’m sorry.” Dougal looks sincerely contrite about this, and Yeriss is shocked. She was expecting to get chewed out, not apologized to.

“It’s- okay.” She says quickly, a bit uncomfortable. “I’m just glad she was alright after all... Anyways, I managed to get inside the cave undetected. It wasn’t long before I came upon a large group of people hiding out in them. Devas from the cult of Lok. So then I-”

Yeriss relays the events of the past few hours, and Elleon fills in the blanks of her account with his own side of things on occasion. By the time they are done, Dougal looks both shocked, impressed, and pleased at the same time.

“The cult of Lok… to think, this whole time they were on the Island with us and we had no clue.” Dougal muses as he thumbs the token with Lok’s symbol Yeriss had taken from Kugai. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he hands it back to her. “Well, more than job well done you two. Now that the source of the corruption is gone, I can assemble a decisive force and get rid of all the remaining monsters on the Island push by push. I’ll have a group go investigate the caves and make sure they’re clear. For now, you’ve earned some rest. I can’t imagine taking on a demon that powerful was easy.”

“Actually, Dougal… there’s something else.” Elleon says, catching his eye, and then looking pointedly at the priests.

“Ah.” Dougal turns to address the healers. “It seems these two are in much better shape, thank you for your efforts. If there’s nothing else, you can go.” He says in a kind, but clear dismissal.

They both nod and take their leave. Once they are gone, Dougal temples his fingers and raises his eyebrows at the man across him. “What is it?”

“We found some correspondence between their leader and someone inside the Federation that confirms someone was working with them behind our lines. I have no doubt it’s the same person responsible for the other suspicious events we discussed.” Elleon hands him the paper they found.

Before reading it, Dougal exchanges a look with him, glancing almost imperceptibly in her direction. If she didn’t just witness his methods in silent communication, she would’ve completely missed the discreet question he just asked Elleon without even saying a word.

“Yerenica already knows about the situation.” Elleon says quickly. “I told her about our additional suspicions. At a certain point down there I likely would’ve been quite dead if not for her. You can trust her.”

Dougal nods, readily accepting this. “Sorry Yerenica, just had to be sure. This is a uh, delicate situation, as you might imagine. We’re trying to keep as tight a lid on it as possible. Alright, let’s have a look at this.”

Dougal unfolds the paper and holds it out in front of him as he reads.

To her surprise, Dougal doesn’t ask about the devan. It’s not uncommon for a man of his position to be able to read the languages of multiple races, but he doesn’t give off the impression of the scholarly type.

“Someone who knew the personnel of the expeditions as well as interfere with the expedition supplies at some point, at least once, to apply the identifying mark, and to move them from the camp on the Island to a place the cultists could retrieve without being detected.” Dougal says to himself, thinking it through. “Huh… could be… someone high up certainly, but there’s only a handful of us with this level of clearance. But no, couldn’t be. More likely it’s someone who could access one of our confidential reports perhaps. An assistant?”

“Once received, you burn those. How could that be possible?” Elleon doesn’t seem to agree with him.

“None of us are infallible. Someone could’ve forgotten to do it, or been called away to discuss an emergency. I can think of plenty of situations.” At Elleon’s silence, Dougal frowns. “The only ones who could access this information are myself, Seir, Gislan, Samael, Fraya, Eyhian, Loana, Kanmur, or Ukenul. I highly doubt any of them could manage such an alliance without our notice.”

Elleon nods hesitantly.

“I hate to say it, but we need more evidence.” Dougal states reluctantly. “This is a great start though, when previously all we had were suspicions. Once we get more information we can figure out who this “B” is.”

“I think we should be cautious not to rule anyone out too early, lest our own bias cause us to miss something right under our-”

The opening to the tent flaps out harshly and Elleon’s mouth snaps shut as they all turn in their seat to face the doorway. Standing there, hands crossed tightly across his mostly bare chest, is none other than Leander himself. Looking none too pleased.

Dougal coughs awkwardly. “Leander. Uh, come in, make yourself at home.”

Leander takes a few steps forward and then resumes his previous posture. “All that time and effort searching for you like a needle in a haystack, and somehow I’m not the first to know when you’re found, brother.”

Elleon doesn’t react negatively at all to his brother’s irate tone. In fact, his eyes light up as he takes in the form of the blond man. “Is that my missing blade I see on your back Leander? Did you know that you’re my favorite brother?”

“I’m your only brother.” Leander says, rolling his eyes. But his expression softens as he catches sight of the bloody scrap of black cape-turned bandage laying loosely around Elleon’s ankle. “You’ll be pleased to know it contains none of the corrupted mana I found it inundated with. Are you alright?”

“Fine. My wounds have been healed, just haven’t had a chance yet to wash the blood off.”

“I see. Well. I don’t suppose you have some time for us to speak in private.” Leander asks, dropping his gaze.

“Of course.” Elleon quickly re-dons his boot. “Dougal?”

“We can speak more on the issue later. Go ahead.”

With a parting nod to Dougal, then Yeriss, Elleon stands and follows Leander out.

“Now that we’re alone,” Dougal begins. “I have an offer for you, Yeriss.”

At the sound of her real name, Yeriss freezes up. But before her blood has even started going cold in her veins, Dougal is patting placatively at the air.

“Relax, relax, you’re not in trouble.”

Yeriss stops holding her breath, but gives him a wary glance. “...I’m not?”

“No, I promise.”

“You knew this whole time?”

“Yeah. The day after we arrived some of Mahera’s crew asked me what to do with some crates full of badges and papers. I realized we forgot to unload them while we were at the docks in Velika. Knowing every soldier under my command is impossible, but I always make an effort to remember those that have given up their lives, to make sure their personal effects get returned to their families.” Dougal explains. “I have them written down in a log. So when there was one missing, it wasn’t hard to figure out who. Afterward I asked Mahera about it, and she explained what happened to me.”

Traitor! All that money and treasure wasn’t enough to prevent her from ratting her out?

Her thoughts must have shown on her face, because Dougal shakes his head. “Hey, don’t feel bad. She was actually quite tight-lipped at first, and didn’t end up answering me until I pressured her. Amani are quite big on honor, you know.”

Yeriss stops planning a future confrontational rant in her head.

“After that I had a friend in the Swords verify your identity, and kept an eye on you in case you were dangerous. All I saw was you managing to kill more monsters single-handedly in a week and a half than most of the people that arrived on the second expedition have in the whole time they’ve been here. If that wasn’t enough, you also just solved all my problems in one go, including finding Elleon. I’d be a fool to punish you for being the best thing that’s happened on this island since I got here.”

She has no idea what to say. “I was just trying to help.”

“Exactly. As I was saying, I have an offer for you.”

“Huh?”

“You are now one of the very few people who know about the traitor in the Federation. Reading that letter today made me realize that this could be bigger than I previously imagined. I need someone capable to help me investigate, discreetly. Now that I know Elleon has a target on his head, the help he can provide is limited.” Dougal sighs. “So here’s my offer: you become one of my operatives, but we make it look like you’re a regular new recruit so that whoever’s behind this letter doesn’t realize we knew each other prior and get suspicious. Half the work is already done for us, considering you went by a different name during your time here. I’ll send you wherever I find a lead, and you’ll investigate under the guise of acting as a regular soldier at your post. It’ll be dangerous, but with your abilities I’m sure you can handle it.”

Yeriss brushes a lock of hair behind her ear, flattered that someone so high up as the Consul thinks highly of her. But this offer is far from tempting. ‘New recruit’? ‘Regular soldier ’?

“...”

“So, what do you think?”

“I want to help you, Dougal. I’m just not the right person for this kind of job. Isn’t there some other way I can help?” She’s definitely not trying to get landed with some snooze post fighting small fry with the rest of the keeners, sneaking around. “When you find out who it is, you’ll have my sword at your side, I swear.”

“I know I’m asking a lot. Anyone who did what you just did would want accolades - and deserve them. Asking you to keep quiet about it is unfair, I admit that. Tell you what, if you help me find the traitor like this, afterward I’ll make sure everyone in Velika knows of all your valiant service.” Dougal pauses, as if considering something, and then gives her a conspiratorial wink. “You know, I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard for me to name the person who ended the corruption on the Island of Dawn and rooted out a traitor in our midst an official Valkyon Federation hero.”

“A-” Yeriss’s eyes widen. “A hero? Really! - No wait. You’re just… yanking Saleron’s chains, right?”

Dougal shakes his head with a smile.

Images of crowds of people calling her name with adoration on their lips, praise echoing through the city of wheels, and holos of her above Defiance Street in Castanica flood her mind. No stranger would ever look at her red skin and horns and disparage her again.

Pleasant shivers go up her spine.

“If you do decide to accept my offer, I have something else for you.” Dougal gets up out of his seat by the fire and reaches under a table for something.

Yeriss watches him curiously.

“You won’t be able to fulfill your full potential with that standard issue greatsword,” He starts, and when he stands back up she sees what’s in his hands. “Someone gave this to me a while ago, but I don’t use these. I think you could make much better use of it.”

It’s a greatsword. The maroon hemeleather handle is immaculately wrapped, and beautiful metalwork patterns start from the straight bronze cross-guard and flow down the middle of the fuller. The linmetal of the blade starts from a deep brown and transitions to silver in a slow gradient. From the craftsmanship alone she can tell this isn’t a twenty gold weapon.

“...Please don’t send me anywhere too boring. And I really can’t stand guard duty.” As she says it, she holds out her hand for the weapon.

Dougal throws his head back and laughs, a deep rich sound. Readily, he hands her the greatsword. Still chuckling.

“I’m also not really suited for deception, as you might have noticed.” Yeriss adds on, trying not to get annoyed at being laughed at. Not everyone can afford fancy swords.

Forcing himself to stop laughing with a little cough into his fist, Dougal clears his throat. “You won’t have to worry about that. I have someone who can help you.”

[fizzyxcustard]

Diary (3)

Part 1  Part 2

Masterlist here

Summary: You are often writing erotica in your diary, revolving around you and Thorin, but what if he finds it?

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x Dwarf!Reader

Warnings: Smut, fluff

Comments/Notes: Thank you to everyone who has voted for more of this fic to be written; I’m hoping it becomes quite a fun series to write. We’re not quite at the smut yet, but this part opens it up for what’s about to come. 

As always, requests to be tagged send as an ask or to my message box. You can be tagged in all my works, just this story, any other story, or for a particular character. 

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You threw the tray of uncooked pastry into the oven and slammed the door shut. Your breath was causing your chest to tighten each time you inhaled and then exhaled. The whole of your chest felt like it was being compressed and your head pounded with anger and heart-wrenching pain. 

Thorin had accomplished what he had set out to do: find a potential wife. No doubt the bedsprings would be put to good use that night, and you would lie awake imagining every second, mentally murdering yourself, stripping your throat raw with sobs and hitched sobs. 

“What’s wrong? Please talk to me,” your best friend’s voice came. “You’ve been silent all evening. Are your family alright?” Neldra stepped up beside you. The two of you were the only ones left in the enormous kitchen. All of the utensils had been abandoned as the remainder of the kitchen staff finished their duties to enjoy what was left of the evening out in the main hall. 

“My family are fine,” you replied simply. 

“Then what’s bothering you so much? Have I got to go and duel with someone?” she asked, raising a faint smile in hopes it would cause you to reciprocate. Only it didn’t. 

You stepped away, wiping down the table with a piece of cloth. “I...” you stuttered. What were you going to say? You still had no idea how you would form the words, and of course Neldra would only laugh at your admissions. You were in love with King Thorin...so were dozens of other Dwarf women. He was Erebor’s most eligible bachelor. 

“I lost my diary,” you said suddenly, remembering the disappearance of it that afternoon. 

Thorin paced his room, waiting for you. He watched the flickering of the candle on his desk, sure that you had been longer than an hour. Absently he began flicking through your pages, smiling to himself at the images you conjured through your narration. 

Suddenly there was a knock at his door. 

“Come!” he called, rushing to his desk where he put your diary away in one of the drawers. 

You entered. 

You nervously peered around the room, noticing there was no one else there. The tray was starting to rattle in your shaking hands, so you approached the nearest table and placed it down. “Sorry for the delay, my Lord,” you said in a just about audible voice. You could not look him in the eyes, to know what was happening. The woman he intended to make his wife was probably going to meet with him soon. You swallowed hard over a painful lump which formed at the very thought. 

“Enjoy your evening,” you said again and turned away, tears burning your eyes. 

“I intend to,” Thorin replied. 

You jumped as his arm stretched out beside you and shut the door before you could reach it. What was he doing? “Again, I’m sorry...” 

“Why are you apologising? Turn to face me,” he ordered. 

You turned around, your back hitting the door and you let a gasp slip past your lips. He was so beautiful. 

“I’m... keeping you from the e...vening with female company,” you stuttered again. 

“I never said you were keeping me. In fact, you are the female company I was intending to enjoy tonight,” Thorin replied. This time he smiled, his whole face lighting up. It radiated with joy and innocence. 

“Me?” you asked, startled. 

“Why ever not? And I believe cinnamon and apple pastries are your favourites? With camomile tea?” 

“How do you know that?” you asked. Was he spying on you and taking more notice of your behaviour than you first thought. Your heart was racing now, and excitement was starting to jump in your stomach. Were you dreaming? Surely none of this was real. 

“Come and eat,” he told you, taking your hand and guiding you to the couch at the end of his bed. 

Thorin disappeared behind you and then re-appeared with something in his hand. You closed your eyes and felt a lead-weight drop in your gut. Was that your diary? “Please don’t say that’s....?” 

“Your mind is exquisite, dearest,” Thorin whispered, sitting down beside you. “Read me an entry.” 

“What?” you spluttered. 

“Read to me,” Thorin requested, taking a bite of a pastry. Slowly he began to remove his robes. You noticed how slow he was doing it, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“I can’t,” you said, feeling your nerves become overwhelming. 

“Then choose me your favourite,” Thorin said. He leaned towards you, placing the pastry to your lips. Why was he so beautiful? Apple and cinnamon flooded your mouth, closely followed by the tip of Thorin’s finger. His eyes were growing darkened by lust and he continued staring at you. 

You closed your eyes, feeling Thorin push more of his finger into your mouth. “Maybe this will help you decide,” he whispered. You felt his finger slip from your mouth and then something tickled your lips. His beard. 

Thorin brushed his hand against your cheek and deepened the kiss, tasting the apple on your tongue. His arousal began to burn in his breeches, heightened by your moans beneath the kiss. 

The King pulled away from your kiss, smiling at you. “Choose your favourite, dearest,” he requested softly. 

Your mind was ablaze, becoming a whirlwind of so many emotions and thoughts, all tangled like a dense mist. “I...” 

Thorin encouraged you to eat more of your pastry, knowing you were flustered and overwhelmed by the situation. He opened your diary as you ate more cinnamon and apple. His velvet voice resounded around your head, mixing with the pulsing and throbbing at your thighs. 

“I walk into my room, petals like silk beneath my feet, and there you are, on my bed, waiting for me. You greet me from a hard day’s work, kissing my ear and cheek, moving down to my neck. Your hands, experienced, calloused, yet gentle, caress my breasts. Skin against skin...” His voice continued on and every now and then his silver blue eyes would peer over the yellowed pages, watching you. 

Then he put the diary down and reached out to you, his hand resting on your hip. You couldn’t help but move in closer to him, feeling his warmth. “Every one of those entries, every fantasy, and I will make sure you live it,” Thorin promised. “It has been some years since I have taken a woman, but I intend to pleasure you beyond anything you’ve felt before. You want me and you will have me.” 

“Every one?” you asked. 

“Every....single....one,” Thorin said. The pause between each word made your gut stir even more, butterflies swarming. Thorin reached over to his desk and presented you with a leather-bound book, similar to your current diary. “And then when we have finished, you can begin writing more.” 

[peacefiresky-archive]

The Price of Victory

Chapter Two - Flesh Against Time

Chapter Three - Seht in Stone

The body of Sotha Sil was as gruesome as she remembered it.

She had come into this very dome in search of him, in the second century of the fourth era. She had been terrified, really - what if he was alright? What if he caught her in a restricted area and exiled her? She had proceeded forward anyway. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. No one had seen or heard from Lord Seht. No one.

She had gone cold when she saw the body.

Decomposed. Completely and utterly. The skeleton hung from the wires, his jaw opened in what looked to be a scream and - 

And he was dead, she had realized numbly. Sotha Sil was dead. Did Lord Vivec and Queen Almalexia know? They had to. Where were they? Why didn’t they say something? Were they dead, too?

She had left that day. She had simply ran and ran and ran until she forced herself to go tumbling out of the city - 

She had spent a year in Mournhold, trying to gather her wits. Those who recognized her robes tried their best to help her adjust and told her about all she’s missed in the centuries she’d been gone, and - and she was doing alright. She adjusted. She decided to head north in hopes of joining the Mages’ College in Skyrim. Things hadn’t… quite gone according to plan.

And here she stood again. The skeleton of her god before her. The threat of Hermaeus Mora taking over her home pulling at her frayed strings. She set about untangling the skeleton from the cords it was hung in.

It was tedious work, and she had to force herself to think of him as just some commoner, some random adventurer she found in a cave somewhere. The bones were brittle with age and threatened to snap if she tugged even a bit too hard - 

She reached out with her mind’s eye and channeled her magicka into a third and fourth arm, which she quickly set to work along her corporeal ones. She didn’t know how long it was going to take.

Her left arm was threatening to give out. She grimaced as she worked, her arm stinging as though it was being seared off. She’d stop by an artificer later, if she could - but she had to do this. Had to bring him back.

Finally. Finally, he was freed of the cords and wires. She dispelled her telekinetic arms. His skeleton lay on the floor, the bones old and cracked and oh, by the Gears, this wasn’t going to work, was it?

She had to try. Venes Sovath had done the impossible before. She could damn well do it again.

She hoped.

Slen-Tiid-Vo. Flesh-Time-Against.

Slen-Tiid-Vo. Slen-Tiid-Vo. Flesh-Time-Against. Flesh-Time-Against.

“SLEN TIID VO!”

The thu’um tore from her throat.

She gulped in a breath of air. It was quiet in the dome. 

Not sound. Not so much as a creak of the gears.

Quietly, Sovath fell to her knees. It didn’t work. She collapsed in on herself. It didn’t work. It didn’t work. She buried her face in her hands, a quiet desperation taking hold of her. She’d have to try something else. But what could bring him back, if not her Voice? What could she do?

She forced herself to stand. Think. Think. She began to pace, her hands going up to tug painfully at her hair - a habit she thought she’d outgrown. She bit her lip, gnawing until she tasted blood. The walls seemed to close in on her, and her breathing was reduced to shallow gasps, and - and Seht save her, she couldn’t save - 

“I doomed the City,” She realized, her voice trembling. “The Clockwork City is going to fall at the hands of Mora and it’s my fault and - and I can’t --”

The sound of creaking. 

Sovath looked up.

A golden light circling the bones.

She stumbled back, her brass hand clamping over her mouth to stifle a gasp.

And it was levitating, moving cautiously, flesh materializing out of - out of gods knew where, and it was moving and glowing and coming back and - 

Sotha Sil blinked, his feet coming into contact with the ground for the first time in two centuries. 

With a silent grace, he straightened. He looked towards the woman standing before him, shocked and bleeding and tired and with a malfunctioning arm - “Well, I assume you’re the one who allowed a Daedric Prince into my city.” 

His voice was like a bell.

She laughed. She couldn’t help it - she was near hysterics. She forced herself to quiet, gulping down a breath. “Yes - but I have a plan! That’s why - that’s why I…”

“Brought me back from death.” Seht offered a fraction of a smile. “Very well. What does this plan entail?”

“Well, the only reason - the only reason Hermaeus Mora was able to follow me into the City was because you were dead. It told me that the compact - the Coldharbour Compact, I mean - lasted until your death, so now that you’re no longer dead, he’ll be forced to leave the City and return to Apocrypha.”

“Ah. Very well. I knew he would attempt this sooner or later.” He paused. “Though, I have a… query for you.”

“Of course,” Sovath shifted on her feet.

“Why?”

“...I’m sorry, sir?”

“You brought Hermaeus Mora here, did you not? Why do you wish to force his return to Apocrypha?”

“Ah, that’s…” A pained smile twisted her features. “It’s a long story. I was forced into making a deal with him.”

“You were forced?” Seht’s brow arched. 

“It was that or allow the return of Miraak - the Traitor of the songs and legends of Solstheim.” She forced down any feelings of… inequity. She was the Dragonborn. She could explain the situation without grovelling of all things. She was as much of a hero as any other. “I couldn’t allow innocent people suffer due to my inaction. I could have ignored the situation and avoided him, but in order to kill Miraak, I would need the knowledge he had. Knowledge given to him by Hermaeus Mora.”

“I see.” Lord Seht nodded. “Yes - yes, and you wished to escape. So you traded him the City for the knowledge that would allow you to do so.”

“Yes. And I have that knowledge - I think.”

“And yet you stayed.”

“This is my home. I was - I don’t know if you remember, but I was one of the first exodramals to make my way here. The city was barely finished when I arrived, and I remained here until I discovered… Your, um, your state of being. I couldn’t just leave the City to Mora’s whim.”

Seht hummed in… contemplation, maybe. “The Prince will attempt to take him with you.”

“Let It try. I’ll kick Its ass so hard that It’ll think Its back in the Dawn Era.”

Seht blinked.

Sovath smiled sheepishly.

“...Well, before you send It back to the Dawn Era, we have to confront It first.”

“Right! Right. Let’s… let’s go threaten a god.”

“It will not be my first time.”

Sovath bit back a grin. “Nor mine.”

[blogmaria333ph]

Almost Two Years Later

Still a fan of APH Veneziano.

Still not overly fond of Romano/Veneziano, Germany/Veneziano or HRE/Veneziano, but not a hater.

Thinking back, I've comprised a list of Veneziano pairings I liked/would still like to see/read.

And here they are.

*Breathe deeply*

Gosh... Here's a rather long list of ships for one character...😅 Feel free to reblog this if you agree with a ship😉

(PS: I made up ship names for a few of them. Ultimately, a lot don't have one...)

Angel Pair (England/Veneziano) - The Ship Name was bestowed upon these two by other fans. The ship originally came from the game, HetaOni, but I personally think they grew close during the days when Rome had England as a colony.

PasTea (China/Veneziano) - Ship Name equates to Pasta + Tea. I imagine China spent a lot of time with him during the Silk Road Days, what with Rome taking him along almost everywhere!

EngVeneChu (England/Veneziano/China) - Stern, parental China and (quite possibly) magical, protective England. Between the two of them, I think Vene would be well cared for, yes? Then, whenever they feel down due to any reason, Vene would cheer them up!

Scotland/Veneziano - Imagine that. "Ve... _____ is scary!" - Vene. "So, _____. Want to fight and lose?" - Scotland. Or "My people want to leave but England's politicians won't let them..." - Scotland. "I can try talking to England about it?" - Vene.

Wales/Veneziano - Wales, according to many a wiki, is apparently calm. I can see him just being a support for dear Vene during hard times. Vene would keep him from feeling down whenever he remembers the days he fought England.

VenezIre (Veneziano/North Ireland) - North Ireland is a bit less mature than the other UK countries, I think... I mean, if I were to decide his character, he would probably be more playful than work-oriented. They'd be great together, no?

UkVene - This ship is Veneziano with more than one of the four UK countries. Any combination.

Hongkong/Veneziano - Hongkong probably was just looking for something to do at a meeting until he noticed Vene being all forced smiles and shaky laugher. He'd likely set off fireworks just to fix that and then promptly get lost in the honest sparkle of happiness radiating from Vene. 😊

KimSta (South Korea/Veneziano) - Ship Name is a combination of the words: Kimchi and Pasta. South Korea would jump and claim certain parts, which Vene would laugh at and allow. South might likely take a while before admitting to any commitments, but once he sees how caring and positively fun Vene is, he might just settle down.😉

North Korea/Veneziano - Yeah. Imagine him just terrorizing all those who so much as pose a threat to Vene!😉😁 ([*muttering* I'd attempt to pull him out of isolation just for this]) He'd probably start their friendship just to annoy certain countries but Vene has a way of 'melting the ice', right? So, eventually, he starts to actually fall for the bubbly, cheery man.

PaShu (Japan/Veneziano) - Ship Name = Pasta + Shushi. Veneziano was Japan's first friend, even before America! They liked each other's culture and history even before officially meeting! (According to one episode, at least.) Not hard to imagine Japan protecting Vene, seeing as it does happen in the show.😉😉

Mentioned Asian Countries/Veneziano - More than one, that is. Any combination.

HamSta (America/Veneziano) - Ship Name = Hamburger + Pasta. America has a hero- complex, or at least something like it. It's actually not hard to picture him standing up against those belittling Vene. And when he feels like the pressure of being a World Power is crushing him, Vene would be there with smiles and pasta!

MapAsta (Canada/Veneziano) - Ship Name: Maple and Pasta. I imagine Canada as a sweet friend to Vene at first, gradually becoming more. They bond over not being listened to enough. Canada has a violent side, though, which comes up when friends and loved ones are threatened. Vene would always be there for Canada, seeing and hearing him regardless of the others' reactions, or lack thereof.

CanZiAme (Canada/Veneziano/America) - A sweet lover with a tendency to get be violently protective. A protective lover who loves to try out new things. An optimistic lover who is happy just being there for them emotionally and physically. Really. They're cute. 😚

Sonet (Austria/Veneziano) - Ship Name derived from my head Canon that Veneziano also loves music, like Austria. To be honest. I rarely think of them this way anymore, but I still find them cute and sweet together.

SwitZiano (Switzerland/Veneziano) - I like how I got this to have 'sweet' in it.😉😉 Switzerland had protected Vene as much as he could during the Italian Wars. I imagine he still has a soft spot for Vene, though rather pushed to the far corners of his mind. (A lot like his affections for Austria.) Vene might secretly miss the days when he and Switzerland would travel together.

PrussiAno (Prussia/Veneziano) - Ah, Prussia. A passionate man with a rather large protective streak focused on his brother and Vene. Truly, my head Canons are rearing their, well... Their heads... Anywho, Vene doesn't like the fact that Prussia gets sad, he also hates the possibility that either of them might leave the world at any time. Prussia does, as well. So they spend as much time together as possible.

Austria/Veneziano/Switzerland - Both of them are strict. Both have a strong sense of duty, due to the military style upbringing. Both, also, have a soft spot, though for different things. Vene is well aware of the soft spots and uses them to stop any conflict between the two. ((Also, he is more than happy to sleep between them to be sure they don't fight in their sleep.😂))

Austria/Veneziano/Prussia - One is strict. The other is adventurous. Both like music and art. Vene acts as a buffer in their squabbles and is happy that they at least tone down the shouting and cold shoulders.

RussiAno (Russia/Veneziano) - A cute pairing, I think. Russia wants friends but everyone just tries to avoid him. Vene finds out and tries to overcome his fear-filled thoughts about the large nation. They become friends, and more, and Vene swears the rest of the world don't know what they're missing due to fears. Russia is content with the development and is more than happy to show exactly how he feels when anyone doubts his feelings. (Pipe and chilling atmosphere, anyone?😉😉)

Poland/Veneziano - They started out as close friends, bonded over love for artistic pursuits, and before they knew it, they were in love. Of course, they don't talk about it for years, until others point it out and push them into tackling their feelings before they start experiencing any regrets.

Lithuania/Veneziano - Poland introduced them to each other and Poland pushed them together because they are both his best friends, first and foremost. So, if they light up like bulbs when they so much as hear of each other, well. Poland certainly won't be getting in the way.

Lithuania/Veneziano/Poland - Poland introduces them to each other and sees the happiness radiating from them when they're together. Poland knows that Lithuania still loves him. He knows that he at least cares for Vene. So, without any more hesitations, he does all he can so the three of them can be together. Vene is happy being with them and Lithuania is grateful for his two lovers.

Estonia/Veneziano - *shrugs* Seems like an interesting pair... (To me, at least...) Estonia might actually try to fight Russia for Vene's sake and Vene might try it, too. For Estonia's sake... Maybe?

NordIano - This is more than one Nordic country with Veneziano. Any combination.

DeNe (Denmark/Veneziano) - I imagine he would try convincing Vene to stay a bit at his place for winter. Then, he would use the cold as an excuse to cuddles and warm kisses.😘 Vene would probably try to show him the soft, pretty snowfalls in the Mediterranean, prompting even more cuddles and warm kisses.😊

SwedEziano (Sweden/Veneziano) - Sweden appreciates how Vene does not mind his silence. Vene likes how Sweden actually, truly, listens to him.

FinVene (Finland/Veneziano) - A cute pair, really. I can honestly see how Finland would show his more violent side in response to anyone who poses a threat to Vene. And I can see Vene being all subtle about keeping those like Russia away from Finland.

ZiaNor (Norway/Veneziano) - Norway would, maybe, appreciate Vene's sweet, happy gestures in public (brief touches and chaste kisses). He might also enjoy the cuddling they have in bed. Vene is right there whenever Norway gets bad days (like having Iceland ignore him). He does a lot to keep Norway happy and optimistic about his relationship with Iceland.

VenIce (Veneziano/Iceland) - Iceland has a bit of insecurity problems regarding Norway and the other Nordics. Vene helps him see he has nothing to worry about in regards to the Scandinavians. Vene Has self-esteem issues. Iceland does everything to help build up Vene's confidence. (I especially like how this ship spells the name of Italy's Floating City. 😉😍)

VeneRia (Bulgaria/Veneziano) - Bulgaria had been Vene's Ally since before the World Wars, although it was a decision he did not initially like. Vene is all smiles and positive opinions about Buglaria. Bulgaria, eventually, gets caught in the roller coaster of emotions and happiness that is Veneziano.

RomanIano (Romania/Veneziano) - He heard of Vene from Bulgaria and decided to meet the bubbly Italian. He is quickly taken by the warm smiles and positive outlook in life the other bestows upon everyone.

Romania/Veneziano/Bulgaria - Really. They would want to keep Vene safe and Vene would want to keep up the positive vibes around them.

England/Veneziano/Norway - I imagine England would focus on cursing those who speak badly about them. Norway would probably just get trolls to take care of any annoyance. Vene would just sigh and leave them be for a short while before ultimately coaxing them into a cuddle.

England/Veneziano/Romania - basically similar to the above Trio, actually. But Romania deals with problems using potions.

Romania/Veneziano/Norway - similar to the two above.

Magic Trio/Veneziano - Honestly, the three of them with Vene.

Greece/Veneziano - Lots of nap time with cats. Greece also finds it easy to replicate his mother's warrior side for Vene's sake. Vene, on the other hand, finds he can easily cheer up Greece.

OttoZia (Turkey/Veneziano) - started as a rivalry and turned into something else, entirely.

Greece/Veneziano/Turkey - Vene (again) acts as a buffer between his two lovers. They know he doesn't like fights so they do their best to get along.

Greece/Veneziano/Japan

Greece+Turkey+Japan/Veneziano

Egypt/Veneziano - I got this in my head cause of that one scene where Vene went to Egypt and he was caught.😉😊

Any of the aforementioned countries forming Vene's harem.

Last, certainly not the least: Top!Vene or Seme!Vene with any of these countries.

[akaluan]

So - remember that one idea about Erich turning into a dragon? I was suddenly reminded of an old idea I had about Kisuke being turned into a phoenix, and now I just can't get RID of the mental image of Erich in falconry gear (he is/was a European Von, he might have had some experience with the spot!), with a phoenix!Kisuke perched on a falconry glove.

Part 1 | Part 2 | ????

((Honestly, Erich in falconry gear? A++ mental image, though he probably never flew a bird as heavy as a phoenix would be XD

I’ll probably write more of this, especially Kisuke learning to fly and Erich Actually With Falconry Gear, bc whoops, this settled on being before that actual point happened.

And, like the dragon one, PROBABLY NOT CANON to Lilacs XD But it’s super fun to imagine things like this!))

“Well, you certainly make for a beautiful bird,” Erich said as he looked down at the bird that had replaced Kisuke.

Kisuke fluffed his crimson feathers and gave him an imperious look. “Of course I do,” he managed to say. “The idea that I could be anything but..!”

Erich chuckled and knelt, peering closer at Kisuke. “So what brought this on?” he asked, eyeing the sharp talons and beak thoughtfully. He’d need falconry equipment — or something akin to falconry equipment — if he wanted to handle Kisuke like this. “Please tell me you weren’t playing with that old spell you found— Kisuke!” Erich scowled at the sheepish look Kisuke managed to give him. “I told you to leave that one be unless I was around!”

“He doesn’t often listen to warnings like that,” Yoruichi piped up from the table where she was perched.

“I see you did nothing to convince him otherwise, either,” Erich said. “And for that, I think you should go and find me the gear I need.” He sat back on his heels and gave Yoruichi a stern look. “I need a falconer’s glove, thickest you can find, and for sizing…” Erich lifted his left hand and considered it, dredging his memory for the measurements he needed, before rattling them off. “Slightly larger is fine. Don’t go smaller. Preferably one that goes to the shoulder. And a perch of about four inches in diameter.”

“Why do you need those?” Yoruichi asked, leaning forward to peer down at them.

“For the perch, Kisuke’s going to need somewhere to sit comfortably,” Erich told her. “The glove is because there’s no way to carry him without his talons cutting me.”

Yoruichi scoffed and flicked her tail. “He should just fly, then.”

“Yes, that will go over well.” Erich gave her a dry look, then focused back on Kisuke, who had been ignoring them in favor of examining himself. “Kisuke, if you could spread your wings for me, love?”

Kisuke tilted his head, then obligingly fanned out his wings as far as they would go.

Erich leaned forward, marveling at the colors on display. Kisuke’s feathers were like a sunset, all beautiful reds and oranges and golds, and tiny sparks showered from his feathers with every movement.

(A phoenix of legend, right before his eyes.)

(His fingers itched to touch.)

“He won’t make it through the doors,” Erich said after giving himself a mental shake and estimating his lover’s wingspan. “Nor the hallway. And most raptors prefer not to walk very far, they’re not particularly designed for it.”

“Fiiiine.” Yoruichi made a disgruntled noise and leapt from the table, landing with an audible /thud/ to show her displeasure. “I suppose I can run your errands for you.”

“And tell Tessai-san to purchase some raw chicken or fish on your way out, would you?” Erich called after her, then laughed softly at her annoyed yowl.

“She’s going to be furious at you for days,” Kisuke informed him, folding his wings back and sending another shower of sparks everywhere.

Erich shrugged. “Then I’ll bribe my way back into her good graces. More importantly, let’s get you off the floor.”

He glanced around the lab and made a pleased noise when he spotted a discarded blanket, then rose to fetch it. Erich folded it several times, then gave it a couple turns around his lower arm; hardly suited for anything long term, but for lifting Kisuke from the floor it would be acceptable.

Just to be sure, though, Erich activated blut vene down his left arm; he’d rather not have Kisuke tear his arm to shreds on accident. He knelt in front of Kisuke again and extended his blanket-covered arm, “Here, step up.”

“Your arm—”

“Blut vene,” Erich told Kisuke kindly. “I wouldn’t want to try carrying you around the shoten like this, but I’m just moving you up to the table.”

Kisuke cautiously shuffled forward and stepped up, talons sinking through the fabric till the tips were pressed against Erich’s arm. He was going to need to use blut vene even /with/ the falconer’s glove, Erich suspected; Kisuke’s talons were sharper than he’d expected.

“Alright, I’m going to brace you against my chest,” Erich warned, free hand coming up to press against Kisuke’s overly warm — and exceedingly soft! — back. At Kisuke’s agreeable noise, Erich carefully drew his arm in, till Kisuke was loosely pinned in place, then rose to his feet. A couple of steps to the nearest table, and Erich turned and held out his arm for Kisuke to step down.

He discarded the blanket as soon as Kisuke was settled on the table, then dragged over a chair and sat down. “A phoenix out of legend, trust you to turn yourself into something like that,” he murmured, reaching out to gently run his fingers over Kisuke’s breast feathers.

“I’m just that good,” Kisuke said, feathers fluffing up and crest rising. “Why the raw chicken or fish, though?”

“To feed you, of course.”

“I thought phoenix didn’t eat meat?” Kisuke tilted his head, then let out a soft /chrrrr/ when Erich began to scratch at the base of his crest. “Oh, yes. Right there. That feels good.”

“Differing depictions. You, however, have the talons and beak of an eagle. I’m not going to try feeding you anything but meat,” Erich said firmly. He continued to gently scratch Kisuke, nails picking at tiny bits of feather-sheath that remained around the base of the quills.  “I’m hopeful I can have this undone tonight, but it’s best to be prepared.”

“You know a lot about birds.”

Erich laughed and brushed away the bits of pale gold sheath, then smoothed his hand down Kisuke’s back. “Only raptors, really. My family was landed nobility for /generations/, Kisuke, it’s why my name is /von/ Rerugen. There are certain expectations that come with that position, and one of them is at least a passing knowledge of falconry.”

“Only a passing knowledge?” Kisuke asked teasingly as he spread his wings and flapped them experimentally, sending sparks swirling through the air. He gave a small hop and flapped harder, rising a couple inches before falling back to the table and huffing in disappointment.

“Alexis enjoyed falconry quite a bit. Learning nearly everything was inevitable.” He reached out through the storm of sparks, feeling pinpricks of sharp warmth land on his skin before abruptly winking out. No marks remained when he looked, though, not even a reddening where he felt the sparks land. “You’re going to need more than a little jump like that, especially in here. When Yoruichi gets back with the glove, we can go down to the training room if you want to try learning to fly.”

“Please?” Kisuke asked, giving him a pleading look.

He smiled faintly and brushed his fingers along Kisuke’s jaw. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it, Kisuke,” he reminded his lover softly. “Now, spread your wings again and let me have a look at you. There’s magic threaded all through your body and I get the feeling I’m going to need to untangle the whole thing before I can undo this spell.”

Kisuke obligingly spread his wings, and Erich tapped into his own magic and closed his eyes. Kisuke shone bright in his mind’s eye, a twisted net of magic that held him tight to the form of a phoenix.

This was going to take a while.

[treacherousreign]

Long post about Orise’s relationship with her daughter under the cut, which touches on Orise’s hidden temper and vindictive nature.

Orise and Nina were never really close - that would be basically impossible. On Orise’s end, she had Nina at the same time that she was climbing the political ladder, meaning that she was spending so much time on her career that she had precious little left over for her daughter. Despite this, she tried to spare as much time for Nina as she could. She made up for her infrequent presence by making a point of seeing Nina first during her rare periods of time off; taking an active interest in what she’d been doing while Orise was gone; praising her daughter’s achievements; and always encouraging her to work hard and reach her fullest potential, both for her family and for her own sake. “Love” is too intimate a word, but Nina did grow up believing that Orise genuinely cared about her, even if she didn’t often get the chance to show it.

Orise’s effort was in no way motivated by genuine care or affection for her daughter. The only reason she attempted to forge a decent relationship with Nina was because it was the smarter decision from a social and political standpoint.

On Nina’s end, she could never let herself get too close to her mother (or to anyone) because of Zero. Their bonding was the first major blow to Nina and Orise’s existing relationship. It made Nina always withhold herself from her mother to an extent, and drove a distance between the two of them that Orise could sense but never bridge or fully understand. However, Nina still liked and respected her mother, and even admired her somewhat, not knowing that every instance of care Orise showed her was nothing more than a political investment.

Even before that, though, there was an underlying current of resentment in their relationship. Nina inherited her mother’s hips and height - Ilisaf traits - but her looks and coloration were pure Tauhrelil. Orise’s egocentricism led her to subconsciously resent Nina for her Tauhrelil resemblance from day one, and that resentment intensified as Nina grew older and began to show some very Tauhrelil personality traits. Vene’s total nonpresence in their family life was just salt in the wound (and in fact, Orise’s resentment of him fed into and worsened what she felt toward their daughter). Orise never took out her feelings directly on Nina (after all, that would be a bad political move), but those feelings still affected her relationship with her.

What eventually broke their relationship for good was Nina’s career choice. Throughout Nina’s life, Orise tried to subtly guide her into politics, intent on having a successor to the regime she’d worked so hard to build (another reason Orise disliked Nina’s Tauhrelil traits is that it made Nina an “imperfect” successor in her view). She believed that Nina would take better to politics if she thought it was her own decision. Nina, though, was dead set on becoming an executioner, and nothing Orise said or did could sway her. Like Vene and his science, Orise found herself in another situation where she flat-out couldn’t manipulate someone into doing as she wished, which further fueled her preexisting resentment issues. Nina was also beginning to resent Orise - how she wouldn’t respect Nina’s choices, how it seemed like she wasn’t taking Nina’s dedication seriously, how the encouragement Orise had once given her was now nowhere to be found.

As time went by and Nina refused to budge, things between her and Orise gradually became worse and worse. It all came to a head when Nina officially began her training - a fight that had been brewing for years. Neither Orise’s ego nor Nina’s could take any more, and they both snapped at each other in what was as much an explosion of years of repressed feelings as it was a fight about Nina’s chosen future. It ended with Nina telling Orise to forgive me for having inherited so much of my father’s blood, before renouncing her mother’s family name and taking on the name Tauhrelil.

In spite of all this, Nina still can’t quite bring herself to fully hate her mother. She remembers too much of her early childhood to be able to do that, and she understands, from a cultural standpoint, why Orise wants a successor so much (at least, Nina thinks it’s cultural; for Orise, again, it’s purely egotistic). She strongly dislikes Orise and can’t see their relationship ever being repaired, but her feelings are more complex than simple hate.

Orise, for her part, holds a lifelong grudge against Nina born out of her own wounded pride. The way she sees it, every moment she spent with her daughter ended up being an utter waste because she couldn’t shape Nina into what she wanted, and Orise hates her for that. These feelings are exacerbated by how Orise’s failure to manipulate Nina mirrors how she failed to manipulate Vene. She also still isn’t over her outrage at Nina rejecting her family name to take up Vene’s (which is both a major defiance of social convention and an insult to the Ilisaf name). Now that Nina is the highest-ranking executioner, Orise takes sadistic pleasure in using her to profane the very ideals that Nina holds most dear. She considers it a roundabout victory for herself, and a twisted form of punishment for her wayward daughter.

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