#return of the fearsome fangs | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

snoopledrooplecheesedoodle · 2 months ago

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Yan MerMay!

Dear lord I'm a bit late but it is finals so starting after May 9th, I'll be doing and taking Mermay requests.

They can be:

Normal

Yandere/horror

Fluff

Angst

Platonic

Romantic

Suggestive

What I won't do:

Pedophilia (block me if you want this, I think it's disgusting in any context)

Incest (same as the first and no I'm not comfortable with pseudo incest either)

Smut (rape, noncon (when I hint at it, it's to show how despicable the yandere's actions are), any actual sex (I'm not experienced at all with this and have a hard time not giggling when thinking about writing it))

Ocs/ character x charater (allowing poly though or both parenting or befriending in platonic cases)

Take any level of harassment (I'm doing this for free, if I haven't written your request don't get angry, being mentally ill and neurodivergent doesn't disappear)

All must be:

Mermaid/Pirate related (ocean gods included) to participate

Specific if personal request as well as approved by me

Fandoms/Ocs:

Fairy Tales/Folklore

Hetalia

Avatar Last Airbender/ Legend of Korra (aged up minors/platonic only)

Honkair Star Rail

Total Drama Island/World Tour (once again no romance with minors so aged up or stritcly platonic)

Dungeon Meshi

Jojo's Bizarre Adventures

Twisted Wonderland

Obey Me

Mythology

Pokemon characters (and pokehumans regarding romance. If actual pokemon platonic only (no pokephilia))

Invincible (?) (I'm on season two no spoilers)

Kid in the back of the classroom/Sunny Day Jack/ Boyfriend to Death (fair warning I HATE Strade)

All of my Ocs and specific requests

Prompts (Both Romantic and Platonic)

Anglerfish: Following a bright light you ignore the creature luring you in with smiling fangs.

Barnacle: A marine invertebrate that attach easily to ocean creatures, while mostly harmless sometimes the relationship can become parasitic.

Cutlass: The sharp curved blade reminds you of the teeth and claws of the sadistic creature who refuses to release you from its grasp.

Depths: No one knows how deep the ocean goes as only few can explore, they say it hides hideous monsters. Monsters who are oh so lonely.

Enchanting: A voice as smooth as silk and light as the breeze, said to lure sailors to their doom. The prettiest things can prove the most dangerous.

Flagship: An military officer commands their ship to search for the bandits ravaging their ocean, only to find the boat on the open sea with no crew in sight. A dangerous pit settles in their stomach.

Gale: Strong winds that beat down ships and fishing villages, it's best you remain indoors. However a mysterious stranger begs you for safety in your home, how could you refuse?

Hidden Treasure: Legends of fortune remaining untouched in sunken ships is a lure for the risk takers and the desperate. However this fortune comes with a price as the one who died protecting it grow attached.

Isle: A tropical paradise filled with all the fresh water, fruits and beauty. Too bad the only other creature on the island is dead set on keeping you their forever.

Jellyfish: To you they are ethereal all aglow charming you under the cover of dark with their glow. However, just because they are enamored with you, doesn't mean they don't still have their stingers.

Kraken: Mythical creature famous for destroying ships in it's clutch and causing terrible storms. Only human sacrifice can calm the beast and you have taken your sister's place.

Lighthouse: Bright light that protects ships from smashing onto the rocky shore, it is also rumored to be the final resting place of one who waited for their true love to return.

Moon: Under the cover of night many sea creatures are active and hunting as they bask in the calm silver light of the moon. One full moon your life was changed by a strange encounter.

Net: Bold are the fishermen of the sea who cast nets in hopes of reeling the ocean's bounty. These same nets tangled a fearsome beast with a hatred for humans. However one kind deed from a gentle human led to a lifelong obsession.

Octopus: Eight legged invertebrate known for its intelligence and ability to squeeze into the smallest places. Like an octopus they are determined to squeeze themselves into your heart and never let go.

Pelt: A selkie pelt is it's most important possession, human men of old stole pelts as a means to force the selkie women to marry them. However you unknowingly took the pelt and claimed the selkie with it.

Queen Anne: A famed cruise line known for its luxurious trips, your vacation of a lifetime. However while your avoiding responsibilities a strange fog rolls over the boat, have the people on this boat always acted so strange?

Rip Tide: Rip tides are powerful currents of water flowing back into the sea. Unfortunate souls are swept beneath the surface never seen again. You find yourself at the mercy of the sea in the embrace of an unfamiliar creature.

Sea Witch: Sea witches are feared by mermaids and humans alike for their terrible power, yet are flocked too for their ability to grant wishes. Watch out though as nothing in this world comes for free.

Tears: Legend has it that if a fishman's wife is unhappy in her marriage and sheds seven tears into the ocean a male selkie will appear attracted to her sorrow. This affairs rarely end happily.

Undine: Unearthly maids of the ocean born without a soul, enthralling to men and women alike. The only way for them to achieve humanity is to marry a human. Beware as anything seen as infidelity can lead to the human spouses doom.

Voyage: The smell of the sea and spirit of adventure draw you to sail the seven seas. Such fearlessness can be put to the test as the real monsters are all around.

Waves: Passionate and unstable like the waves of their home ready to drag the unwilling humans and feed on their flesh. What happens when a force of nature collides with vengeful child of the land?

X-Cross Bones: Escaping the life that plagues you on shore you stow aboard a "merchant ship", stomach drops when you hear screams and see fire. A skull and cross bones mocks you as bloodthirsty pirates find you trembling with fear.

Yearning: The call of the ocean is irresistible to some, however none discuss how those of the sea can long just as hard for the land. Seeing you there on the beach has made someone determined to follow you as you turn to leave. They will forfeit all for their love

Zebrafish: Merfolk are new organisms for scientific discovery and rare to get alive. Just who is studying whom though?

Feel free to use prompts (or don't if they suck) just tag me in your post.

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 9 months ago

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hi! i just reached crimson badlands in my current playthrough so how do you think sve bachelors, particularly the mages and adventurers, react to farmer (their s/o or spouse) asking them, "if i turned into a fallen adventurer, are you going to kill me?" it's like 'if i turned into a big, will u still love me?' but feel free to sprinkle some or make it angst btw!! i love ur works <33

OK, dear anon, got it 👍 Just a little pinch of angst, and- *accidentally dumped a whole bag of angst* Oops... Erm, to be fair, this headcanon would be sad either way you look at it, because no one can handle the corruption in Crimson Baldlans yet, and accordingly none of the adventurers have any answers on how to at least help the lost souls. So.... yeah, thanks for the ask! 💕

PS: I'm a bit confused about the "particularly mages and adventurers" thing, since available candidates from this category is Lance and Magnus. Or did you mean like future candidates too? I will leave available candidates this time, hope it's ok for you! 💖

_________________________________________

Victor:

"What...?"

Victor knows for the existence of magic in general, of adventurers and wizards that protect ordinary people like him from monsters or worse that lurk in the dark depths, of various wonders. Since Farmer had become his partner, his knowledge of these noble monster hunters and masters of the arcane arts had become even more extensive. Victor had understood perfectly well the risks of such work even before he and Farmer had officially started dating. Understood, feared for them, but always supported them in their urge to protect. However, the idea that his lover's job could be so dangerous, and the very possibility that they could meet an end worse than death... What could he, a simple guy with a passion for building bridges, do to an armed man? Especially a man close to him?

"There's always a solution, I'm sure." No, he's not sure of his words at all.

Magnus Rasmodius:

"...."

Magnus tore his gaze away from the gurgling cauldron to look his spouse in all seriousness in the eye. Ever since Camilla pointed them in the direction of the Crimson Baldlans, Farmer has travelled almost once a week on a perilous journey into the cursed lands where even the most hardened warriors can easily fall to the fangs and claws of the most fearsome of creatures. Each time they take a risk, in the name of protection, in the name of an idea, in the name of riches and glory, while Magnus stays in their shared farmhouse, praying to Yoba and the spirits that his spouse will return alive. Praying that the urgent message from Camilla would not be the very thing the old wizard feared most. Fearing that he would not have to face their body, scarred by black magic.

"That is my duty. If I have to, I will put an end to it." And that was a lie.

Lance:

*Sigh* "Do you really want to hear my honest answer?"

Castle Village has been home to Lance for most of his life, and as a local and adventurer, he knows full well what awaits anyone who dares to step foot in the sands that have been soaked in the blood of men and monsters for decades. Before the corruption of unknown origin, this place was already dangerous, and now instead of simple death, fallen warriors and wizards can become the living dead, cursed to wander forever knee-deep in these sands until a brave soul comes to the end of their suffering. These brave men were many.... And many have not returned, for to see your friend, parent or child as 'fallen', and you will involuntarily feel a hesitation, a shiver in your hands at the realisation that the one you lost is finally found. It is enough to make a living warrior join the ranks of the dead.

"I must. But... I don't think I can." Even he has weaknesses that will make him hesitate, and his lover as a fallen warrior.... is one of those.

#stardew valley expanded #sve #stardew valley #sdv #sve lance #sve victor #sdv wizard #sdv rasmodius #sve magnus #sve headcanons #thanks for the ask!#also thanks for your kind words 😊

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lobautumny-but-horny · 9 months ago

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cw: Ageplay, diapers

Stheno, fearsome witch of the Serpent's Tail creek, is tired and stressed. She's in over her head. Something needs to budge, and she's sure as hell not gonna let it be her. She needs an assistant.

So, she does what any witch of her caliber would do and conjures a doll directly from the Aether. It's a spiritually taxing process, and an imprecise one at that. However, it has the distinct upside of delivering exactly what you need when you don't already know exactly what you need. The results tend to be at least somewhat surprising, and today is no exception.

Curiously, the doll that stands before her is a patchwork plush doll that seems half teddy bear and half monster. The teddy bear parts are pink and the monster parts are green, it has gray details elsewhere (such as its tummy and "claws," as much as anything made of fabric could be called a claw), it has a cute fang poking out of its mouth, and little horns peek out from above its messy, black hair.

It has a... comforting aura about it, and looks like the exact sort of thing she would've wished for back when she was a scared, weak child. She finds this connection both curious and disturbing, and she pushes it out of her mind for the time being.

After assessing the doll for a long moment, Stheno finally speaks to it. "You there, what is your purpose?"

"To reduce Miss's stress and anxiety through emotional support!"

Hm. Maybe I don't need more hands on deck after all. But still, it's not like now's the time for a therapy session, so...

"Well, I don't need any of that at this precise moment. If you wish to make yourself useful in the meantime, you can make a pot of coffee and then help me by organizing the research papers I've scattered around my study."

"Yes, Miss!"

As the doll skitters out of the room, Stheno returns to her work. Workshopping new spells is always difficult, and with the kinds of enemies she's recently made, she needs to create some particularly intense wards. Since magic is irrational, the kind of power she needs is beyond the limits of conventional math. So, she's attempting to research fae math, which isn't making any goddamn sense. Not that it's supposed to be comprehensible to a human mind, but still, you'd think that for all her-

"Miss? Here's that coffee you wanted."

She snatches the mug out of the doll's paws and chugs the whole thing in just a few gulps, not caring that it's scalding-hot.

She thanks the doll, informs it on how to organize the research papers, and they both silently and diligently work until well past sundown. Eventually, Stheno passes out at her desk as the sun starts to peek above the horizon.

She awakes with a start, realizing she's tucked into bed, snuggling with the doll. She reels, for a moment, at the sensation of waking up feeling rested and comfortable. It's been months since she even set foot in her room. She reaches up to pat the doll on the back of the head, muttering a "good doll" as she kisses its forehead.

It stirs from its own slumber, yawns, stretches, and gets out of bed. "Miss, what would you like for breakfast?"

"Dealer's choice. I warn you, though, we don't have much food in the house other than instant ramen."

"Oh, this one actually went to get groceries after it tucked you in this morning. It'll go whip up something nice for you!"

Wow, maybe this is exactly what I needed. Wait, shit, the research. Feeling good will do nothing if an army kicks my door down.

She replaces her nightgown (Did her doll dress her in a nightgown?) with her typical dark, dramatic robes and heads down to her study. After skimming her papers to catch back up on where she was last night, the doll appears with a veritable feast of eggs, bacon, and pancakes. Stheno feels impossibly energized and focused after cleaning her plate, and gets to work. The doll was absent for most of the day, saying that the house was filthy. She assumes this meant it was cleaning.

Work goes fantastically fast, and Stheno manages to come up with the steps to the exact ritual she needs to perform, and perform it she does. Finally, she can take some time to relax for once without worrying about any guilds or armies finding her.

Several days pass, and one morning, she awakes with a start. Something isn't right.

It takes her a few long moments to figure out what, though. Her crib is nice and secure, all her favorite stuffies are with her, she's not hungry or thirsty, her onesie is very comfy... She supposes Mommy isn't with her, but that's probably just because it's preparing breakfast.

Suddenly, it clicks, and panic sets in. Wait a minute, since when do I live like a baby? Did the ritual not work? Have I been cursed?

She scans her memory, but she's not missing any time. She's been gradually waking up living more and more like a baby every day and only just noticed. She does some diagnostics to test for curses, and can't sense anything wrong with the energies around her. She realizes that she's been sucking on a pacifier this whole time and spits it out. Why does this all seem painfully normal? In her panic, she doesn't even notice her diaper grow damp, and then soggy.

A few minutes later, Momm- no, her doll, opens the door and starts walking to unlock Stheno's crib and bring her down to the dining room for brekky, before getting stopped with a question:

"Is this your doing?"

"Hm? What, all the baby stuff? No, this one's not even capable of making such drastic changes. It was assuming that you were doing this to decompress. Are you not?"

At this moment, several things click. Of course. It should've been obvious from the moment she woke up. The subspace bubble she erected around her house to keep out unwanted guests must've also been insulating her emotional energies, causing repressed desires to intermingle with the latent magical energies around the house and manifest as reality warping effects, and-

"Wait a minute, you said 'drastic changes,' right? What, precisely, are you referring to?"

"Well, for starters, you've gone completely incontinent. You also haven't been able to work your hands or legs very well. This one has to admit it's been pretty cute watching you crawl around and need to be doted on extra hard~"

Interesting. Stheno investigates her memories and sure enough, Mommy's right. What's most curious is how she feels about all this. Her sudden helplessness feels somehow correct, soothing.

She's so deep in thought that she barely notices as Mommy opens her crib, plucks her out of it, checks her diaper, and lays her on the changing table. She barely notices as she instinctually puts her binky back in her mouth. She barely notices just how horribly cute her wardrobe has become, an endless series of pastel onesies, shortalls, and very short dresses, every article of clothing drawing attention directly to her thick diapers.

Stheno remains dimly aware of all the ways in which her life has quite suddenly changed, of how she's become everything she wasn't: Cute, submissive, needy, immature, happy. She doesn't mind, though. After all, her emotional needs are finally being met. She figures that things will return to normal when her needs have been sufficiently sated.

And that's how Stheno's life goes for the next several months; Mommy feeds, bathes, and clothes her, gives her lots of cuddles and attention, entertains her, and she feels profoundly happy and fulfilled for the first time since... Since...

Damn, have I really never felt like this before?

This lasts until one day, unceremoniously, Stheno wakes up to her normal bedroom. Dark colors, no nightlight, no crib, no mobile hanging above her, soft pastel onesies replaced with dark, dramatic robes. Part of her is disappointed, but most of her feels energized, rejuvenated, ready to brew some trouble. She gets out of bed and starts checking around the house to make sure everything is, in fact, properly in order, and everything seems to be except for two facts: She's still stuck in diapers she can't seem to figure out how to change, and she still feels a compulsion to call her doll Mommy. These are, she ruminates, acceptable compromises.

Stheno returns to her work, waging open war against a world that has scorned her so, and takes comfort in the ways she has allowed herself to keep feeling cute, vulnerable, little, even as she turns nobles to newts (a classic prank from centuries past, still just as funny today) and brings entire monarchies to their knees. Pretty quickly, she comes to a realization. While most would consider her infantile side shameful or embarrassing, she's bringing all of human civilization to its knees. If anything, they're the ones who should be embarrassed. So, she leans into this angle and switches out her wardrobe to be more infantile, to draw attention to her diapers.

And so, she was given the title of the Wicked Toddler of the West, which would have possibly been demoralizing if she ever lost a single battle.

#empty spaces #dollposting #witchposting #ab/dl

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murtagh-thorn · 10 months ago

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Dark Legacies Part I: A New Shadow

Pairing: eventual Murtagh x Rider!Reader Summary: Your and your dragon's arrival at Eragon's academy on has long been expected - and feared. After being on the run for several months from men in masks who want you dead and your dragon as their slave for unknown reasons, you're finally safe on the newly hospitable Vroengard. But what do these men in masks want, will they follow you into a den of dragons, and are you truly safe from the rumor mill and politics of those around you? Warnings: mentions of past trauma, canon-typical violence, reader and her dragon both have trust issues, Vrael is present and annoying. A/N: This is a series of one shots and drabbles that all take place in the same universe. You can read most of them out of order (except for the first two parts that will set up the series) and still understand what's going on, and some elements will be taken from other Murtagh x reader one shots of mine. You can find this series listed in chronological order the Dark Legacies masterlist. PSA: Gormlaith is an Irish name (meaning “illustrious princess”) pronounced GORM-lah.

***

Year 0.5

Elves, students, and hatchlings alike scattered as a large, dark shape blocked out the sun. The younger students who hadn’t lived through the torture of tyranny lingered to get a closer look at the giant shape above them, some of their dragons pulling them to safety and others baring their meager fangs in an attempt to protect. Some elves ushered their wards towards the safety of the buildings that made up the island’s academy while others tried to put on a brave face and say it was just some new students arriving – no cause for alarm. But of course, the new students noticed the ruckus below all the same.

All the images and emotions of those under his watch flooded Eragon’s mind as he stood on a grassy knoll a ways out from the campus he and his delegation of elves, dwarves, and humans had built with their own hands. Unable to tolerate their panic any longer, he opened his eyes to watch the already large black dragon grow in size as it flew closer.

“I…heard she’d be large,” Vrael said from behind him, “but not quite…that large.”

Eragon tried to exude an air of calm, standing still as stone with his hands clasped behind his back. He felt Saphira shift behind him with a low growl in her throat.

“Now, now, you two,” he said. “We cannot punish the child for the sins of the father.”

Vrael scoffed. “Well, the closer she gets, the more she definitely looks like her father.”

Eragon finally turned to his companion. “I would respectfully remind you that you’re here to oversee and take information back to your queen. Not pass judgment.”

The elf stared at him for a moment before nodding his head. “Of course, Shur’tugal.”

Eragon turned to watch the duo’s approach once more. “You said some elven scouts had seen them wandering about the borders of Du Weldenvarden?”

“Yes, but they seemed intent on us not getting too close. How long has it been since Guardian Borvaris delivered the egg to her village?”

Eragon drew in a breath as the dragon neared, finally able to realize her sheer size. “Not very.”

The grass flattened as the dragon spread her wings and settled onto the ground, already sending out a low warning growl and baring her head to block her rider from view. She was much larger than either Eragon or Saphira had anticipated and just as fearsome as her sire: eyes wild, teeth bared, and the haggardness from several months of being on the run only added credence to the rumors that she was wildly unpredictable. Morbidity and beauty reigned in equal measure to bear what many who had spotted them throughout Alagaësia had feared returned – a new shadow.

Just as Saphira bristled to assert dominance, the dragon calmed and lowered her head. Still a few yards away, she settled flat on her stomach, head still alert and legs still tensed to rise again at any moment. The form of a young woman who looked close in age to himself appeared and slid off the dragon’s back to walk towards them.

“Will the dragon not come any closer?” Vrael whispered.

Be silent, Saphira warned as the rider came to stand in front of the group.

~***~

You shoved your hands into your pants pockets, playing with a coin you always kept stashed for moments just as these. Unsure what to do or how to address anyone, you subtly bowed your head at the famed Eragon Shadeslayer. “Shur’tugal.”

He gave you a slow, cautious smile and returned the gesture, placing a hand over his heart. “Welcome. I’m only sorry it took you this much time and strife to get here. We sent some of our trackers and students after you, but to no avail.”

“We’ve become…well versed at evading most people.”

“A truth I’m very sorry for.” He craned his head to look at your dragon, who hadn’t moved from her spot and was taking in the surrounding scenery. “Greetings, friend. Would you allow us to come closer?”

Your dragon gave a low warning growl again, but you could feel her fear and need for reassurance through your bond.

“I think she’d be more comfortable with one at a time,” you advised.

Eragon nodded, again looking to your dragon. You could feel her surprise through your link. No one had talked to her like she was her own sentient being beside you in…well, ever. “May I approach?”

The dragon lowered her head in a slow nod and you watched Eragon descend the hill to meet her. He was dressed well, like the elven scouts you’d scared off at their lands’ border. He wore mostly blue and grey tones to match his own dragon, with an impressive sword hanging off his hip and an expensive looking cloak over his shoulders. It was a much darker blue than his shirt, but both had matching twisting silver designs bordering its edges. You self-consciously looked down at your own beat up clothing and were sure your skin and hair didn’t look any better. Your dragon even could do with a bath.

An elf who had been hovering behind Eragon remained aloof as he eyed you with an air of disdain, occasionally throwing nervous glances at your dragon. You turned to see Eragon reaching out a hand towards her nose only for her to flinch back in surprise. He said something you couldn’t hear, keeping his voice soft and warm, before she slowly sniffed him and let him touch.

You sighed, inspecting the lush grass covering the hill. It had been so long since either of you could trust anyone – and for your dragon, she’d only had you since she hatched. What if her sense of trust was permanently damaged? What if yours was?

I am sorry, little one, an unfamiliar voice rang through your mind.

You glanced up at the blue dragon in front of you. Although much older and wiser, she was smaller than your own fledging dragon. You sensed comfort and warmth from her and sank into the feeling, unsure of the last time you’d felt it. You knew she didn’t need to enter your mind to feel the grief and exhaustion rolling off the pair of you in waves.

I am Saphira, Eragon’s dragon, she continued, and I will be teaching your own dragon – sometimes alongside you, sometimes separately.

“What are your and your dragon’s names?” the elf finally interrupted.

You sensed annoyance flowing through your brief connection with Saphira. “I am Y/N, and my dragon is Gormlaith.”

“Can she really be that young to need teaching? She looks to be a few years from her size, at least.”

You shook your head. “No, she’s only six months old.”

The elf turned wide eyes to you. “Six months?! She’s huge!”

Feeling your own annoyance grow, you crossed your arms. “I’m sorry, and you are?”

The elf seemed offended and puffed out his chest. “Ambassador Vrael of the elves of Du Weldenvarden, and trusted servant to Arya Dröttning.”

You glanced mischievously at Saphira before returning to the elf with a shrug and slight shake of your head. “Never heard of you.”

Vrael spluttered as Saphira grumbled something that could’ve been mistaken for a laugh. A light hand on your shoulder distracted you and you turned to see Eragon. “Saphira here will take Gormlaith for a quick flight. It seems neither of you has had a decent meal in ages, so my dragon will show yours the hunting grounds while I show you where you’ll be staying. You can wash up, then join me in my quarters for something to eat and we’ll discuss training and answer your questions. Vrael, you are free to go.”

“But—”

Eragon grabbed your shoulder and turned you away from the elf, giving him a stern and empty smile. “Enjoy your stay here, Ambassador.”

The wind danced around you as both Saphira and Gormlaith took off. You followed Eragon down the hill to the nearby woods, glancing back to see your own dragon giving Saphira a wide berth, but following nonetheless.

It will be all right, you said. We’re where we were always meant to be. They’ll protect us here.

For how long? Gormlaith replied, worry coloring her tone. Before or after the rumors spread of who sired my egg?

You hesitated as you followed your new teacher to a stone path. The light cutting through the trees suddenly felt more ominous than comforting. I’ll always have your back, no matter what happens. I won’t let them torment you.

A powerful wave of love and gratitude flowed through your mind. And I you, my friend.

“I again apologize that we couldn’t locate and bring you two to safety sooner,” Eragon said as the sun disappeared behind some clouds. You couldn’t help feeling grateful, as if you were out from under a spotlight.

You habitually stayed a few steps behind him to protect your back. Although there were likely no plans for backstabbing in these woods, it was a hard habit to break and one could never be too careful. “It wasn’t your fault. We had to constantly be on the move to avoid capture – or torture, maiming, killing, whatever they had in mind.”

Eragon slowed to match your pace, his dark eyes concerned. “The reports I received were mixed at best. Would you mind telling me exactly what happened while we walk?”

You swallowed hard, concentrating on the breeze, birdsong, and smell of incoming rain. You’re here not there, you repeated to yourself. Here not there. As she flew further away, you could feel the bond between you and Gormlaith weaken and tried your best to cling to it. You could feel her doing the same and sent a wave of comfort, forcing a deep inhale.

“This is the furthest you’ve been from your dragon, isn’t it?” Eragon broke the silence.

You nodded, letting out a breath that was much more shuddery than intended.

Eragon stopped and gently took hold of your shoulders, turning you to face him. “I promise you, you’re both safe here. I won’t let any harm come to you nor let rumors spread into a forest fire.”

You were sure your fear was evident all over your face. “But…her sire is—”

“I know.” He let his arms drop down to his sides, gripping the pommel of his sword. His eyes turned distant and his knuckles went white against the hilt. “Shruikan.”

As if the air itself was reliving the terror of the king’s dragon, the sky grew dark and the wind chilled. You closed your eyes, shoving your hands deeper into your pockets and hunching your shoulders as if to protect your neck. Just as suddenly as it appeared, the darkness and cold scattered away. You opened your eyes to see your mentor staring at you with a heavy gaze.

“But Gormlaith is not her father. She’s committed no crimes, and neither have you. I can tell she trusts and loves you wholly – which, of course, all Riders and dragons have these bonds, but it feels…different with you two. As if you’re already on solid ground like an experienced Rider and dragon.”

You frowned. “Are you saying you and Saphira didn’t get along at one point?”

Eragon chuckled, gesturing for you to follow him down the path once more. “We’ve had our arguments and squabbles. We’ve always had and will always have a steadfast love, as well as trust and respect for each other. But I think it’s a bit normal for younger Riders and dragons to take some time finding their footing with each other, so to speak. It’s a strange shift, suddenly having another being privy to your inner thoughts and feelings all the time. As it is to be privy to all their inner thoughts and feelings as well.”

You laughed. “Tell me about it. But for so long, all we’ve had is each other. I didn’t exactly have many close friends or family left before everything happened, and then after Gormlaith hatched, neither of us were sure who to trust. People in strange masks were constantly trying to kidnap her, kill me, and we were just trying to make it here. Of course, I could only hide her in a jacket or vest or cloak for so long…”

You emerged into a long, narrow clearing that followed the path and lost your train of thought at the buildings before you. A large, stone building stood directly in front, its massive double doors open to the forest. Even from your distance, you could see the detail in the stonework as well as the massive gargoyle of a dragon, wings spread in flight, right above the ornate wooden doors. Flanking both sides to create a loose semi-circle were neighboring buildings that seemed somehow woven into the trees themselves, all with large covered balconies that smaller dragons flew in and out of. A few larger dragons – but none as large as Gormlaith, or even Saphira – raised their heads to get a good look at you from their high perches as their young riders played some games in the grass with all sorts of different obstacle courses, balls, bats, and nets. You nearly teared up seeing the utopia Eragon had created. You were finally among your own people – well, if the rumor mill wasn’t already too vicious.

You hadn’t even realized you stopped until Eragon put a gentle hand on your shoulder. “These are the Riders’ quarters. All of these balconies are made to house dragons.” He pointed to your left. “There are a few rows that are hidden by trees and other buildings, but normally we’ll have younger riders bunk together and have several hatchlings share a balcony. Obviously, once dragons become bigger, they’ll need a balcony with fewer roommates or all to themselves. Which is over on this side,” he turned to gesture to your right. “Gormlaith is obviously formidable size, so she’ll get her own balcony just on the end there, in this first row. Which means you will also receive your own private quarters. They’re modest size, but quite comfortable, if I do say so myself. This stone building in the middle is a common area for all the riders and is where we serve meals and have more general offices for myself and the other teachers here.”

No matter how long you looked at everything, it felt impossible to take in every detail. “It’s incredible what you’ve built here.”

He smiled. “Thank you. I hope you’ll find your stay comfortable.”

You turned your attention to him. “Forgive me, but…how exactly does this whole…system work?”

“Well, I can tell you more later, but,” he gestured for you to follow him towards the impressive tree on the end – your quarters – as he continued, “most students come to us as children with their fresh hatchlings and go through training as they grow. Once both they and their dragons are adults, they usually either stay here to help run the academy or go off toward Alagaësia to serve their respective leaders. But our academy is young enough that – ”

You both jumped as a ball narrowly avoided your head, bouncing to a halt at your feet.

“Careful now, Bronvir,” Eragon chuckled. “We don’t want to concuss your new classmate.”

You picked up the ball as Bronvir – a human child who couldn’t have been more than ten – stared at you with wide eyes. You gave him a small smile before handing his ball back to him.

“Do you ride the big, black dragon that just flew over?” he asked. A few of his peers who had been playing with him stopped to stare as well.

You took in a sharp inhale, prepared for the worst. “Yes.”

Bronvir smiled, revealing a missing front tooth. “Can I ride?”

You sighed in relief, laughing quietly as Eragon lightly scolded him. “Of course you can ride – with her permission, of course.”

A chorus of “oh, me too! – can I ride second? – no I want to be second! – how many can they carry at once? – can we go on a group ride? – can they breathe fire?” erupted as the children began to crowd closer into you.

“Now, now, let’s calm down,” Eragon yelled over the cacophony. “They’ve only just arrived, let’s all give them some space to rest from their travels.”

The children groaned synonymously before going back to their game, excitedly whispering about riding a full-size dragon and how they couldn’t wait until their own dragons were that big. Eragon continued leading you towards the large tree at the end of the row, which you could now see had an archway leading to a wide spiral staircase. “My apologies. They can be a bit excitable.”

“I’ll take that over what I was expecting.”

He gave you a sympathetic smile. “As I was saying, our academy is young enough that we don’t have too many who have already graduated to Shur’tugal status. Three of our graduates have stayed here to help care for the young, while four others have taken their services elsewhere. Although not all are riders – we train budding sorcerers in the art of magic and herbalism as well. We’ve only been a functional school for four years now and those who have graduated came here when they were much older than most students – much like you.”

“I got the impression when one of your guardians originally brought the eggs to my village that they mostly aim for children and teenagers.”

“Yes, but it’s ultimately up to the dragon. But older students are a bit more rare.”

The conversation stilled as you passed under the archway. The stairs seemed to branch out from the inside of the hollow trunk, but were still intricately detailed. You’d heard stories about how the elves did this with their own architecture as a way to preserve nature, and with how many elves were here as teachers and helpers, you couldn’t say you were surprised. By contrast, the common building looked more influenced by the dwarves and you’d recognized many of the games on the lawn as popular among human children. It was more soothing than you’d anticipated to see all the races who had isolated themselves during the war come together again.

You followed your new mentor up the stairs and past several landings that led to their own floors – all within and part of the tree itself. Most had archways with full views into the rooms, but at the top stood a closed wooden door with a dragon knocker. Another archway stood behind you, leading out of the tree and onto a series of bridges connecting the top floors of all the other trees that held riders’ quarters and balconies.

Eragon pulled a small black key out of his pocket, the handle carved into a dragon’s wing. “This is the key to your room, color-coded to your dragon. All the doors have wards placed on them so that they cannot be unlocked with magic by other students. However, if I or the other teachers suspect there’s something in there that’s a danger to either you or others, we reserve the right to lift the ward and let ourselves in.”

You nodded as he turned to unlock the door and stepped in after him. The room was a bit small, but felt like luxury compared to your travels and growing up in your small village. The furnishings were modest, but good quality, with a divider in the corner painted with an ornate tree that you assumed hid the bed, and a door on the opposite side leading to a small washroom. Once passed the bed, the floor dipped down into a small sitting area that led out to what would be Gormlaith’s balcony. The ceiling was high and domed with plenty of room for your dragon to move around comfortably. The balcony dipped down to create a reverse dome with part of it covered by what you assumed was a heavily padded dragon bed. The whole space had many warm tones, with plenty of hardwood accompanied by blue and green cushions, blankets, some small paintings on the wall, hanging shelves, and an overall demeanor that already felt safe and like home. You stood as Eragon moved towards the balcony to breathe it all in.

“Now, there are a few things to show you.” Eragon walked along the side of Gormlaith’s bed to the edge of the balcony. “These have doors that wrap around to provide you with privacy and protect from the weather. If you don’t already know the spell for this, there is a pulley system on the wall here that closes them.” He opened a small panel in the wall and pulled on a chord. Circular doors began to slide shut around the balcony until they sealed with a great boom, leaving the room dimly, but cozily lit from the lantern light on the walls. “They seal here in the middle, so you shouldn’t have to worry about any leaks.” He pulled on a different chord and the doors slowly opened again. “There are some minor wards over the balconies to keep out less intense weather. But if you just want privacy or if there’s a particularly bad storm, I’d advise keeping them closed. And now, over here – ”

Eragon returned to walk past you towards the washroom as you took a quick peek at the bed. It looked so comfortable, you almost wanted to ignore him to just flop straight on it. It was a double bed with a frame that looked again like it was somehow flowing out of the tree with a dark green duvet, two white feather pillows, and a small chest for belongings at its footboard. You forced yourself to Eragon’s side, but couldn’t help hoping he’d leave soon so you could test it for yourself.

He stood in the doorway to your washroom, where you noticed the accompanying tub was already full of steaming, soapy water. “This is your washroom and a bath is all ready for you. I assumed you didn’t have many belongings, so I’ve taken the liberty of decorating your room a bit for you. You have a few changes of clothes in the trunk at the foot of your bed, and also hanging here.” He gestured to a simple, but comfortable set of clothes hanging on the wall with a small insignia at the breast that looked like the mark on your palm. “The gedwëy ignasia symbol here marks you as a student. Once you get settled in, if you need more clothes, we can measure you and get you some, as well as test you and Gormlaith to see exactly where your abilities fall.”

You nodded and sighed, slightly overwhelmed.

He gave you a small smile. “I know it’s a lot to take in. Dinner won’t be for a few hours, so take the time you need to wash up, rest, and get used to your new surroundings. My office is in that stone building we saw earlier on the top floor. You can climb the stairs, then turn around and head into the door directly before you. Or there is also a balcony attached, if you’d prefer to land with Gormlaith. She and Saphira are almost done hunting and bathing in the lake and will return shortly.” He gestured to the small table between couches in your sitting area. “I’ve had a bowl of cheese, fruit, and bread prepared for you to tide you over until dinner. And with that, I’ll leave you to rest. Welcome again.” He gave you a small bow and dropped your room key into your palm before heading for the door.

“Wait. What do I call you?”

“I and the other teachers are referred to as ‘ebrithil’ here. It means ‘master’ in the Ancient Language, which we will teach you. Enjoy your quarters.” He gave you one last parting smile before closing the door behind himself.

You stood for a minute, soaking in the silence and sounds of the forest floating through the open balcony before moving to lock the door. Just as you did, Gormlaith’s connection suddenly became clearer in your mind, strengthening until you heard the telltale beat of wings. Your friend swooped onto the balcony, her claws gripping the railing that somehow seemed to hold her weight, before taking in the area. You felt her elation at seeing her very own bed and immediately settled into it with happy chirps and hums. You’d gotten so used to seeing her road-haggard look, the shine and sleekness from her bath amazed you. She truly was an illustrious dragon to behold.

You went to inspect the balcony yourself, placing a loving hand on Gormlaith’s nose as you passed. The view from your balcony was much more secluded than you anticipated and was sheltered by the canopy of the impossibly large trees that surrounded you and made up the rest of the riders’ quarters. You could faintly see and hear what went on in the yard and in others’ open balconies when the breeze parted the branches just right or the younger children screamed in delight at their game. You glanced up at the balcony doors and reached toward them, pulling from the magic you had even before Gormlaith hatched. You had a mentor in your village for a while, but she was strange and didn’t really use the Ancient Language much like you’d heard most riders and sorcerers do. But that was how she taught you and how you practiced. You used your hand to slowly pull the door partially closed to allow Gormlaith some privacy before joining her.

Comfortable? you asked.

Mmm, very. The bath helped. She leaned over to gently nuzzle your shoulder and you wrapped your arms around her nose to give her a big squeeze. As had become your tradition, Gormlaith gently lifted you several inches off the ground before setting you back down. You should take your own bath, friend.

Are you saying I stink?

Yes.

You laughed as she let out a stuttered exhale through her nose that could’ve been a laugh. All right, I’m going, I’m going. I’m assuming Eragon and Saphira would both rather us tell them our story when we smell nice.

Stay tuned for part II!

Taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added!): @the-ethereal-god

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a-revised-history-of-erdas · 9 months ago

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Character Designs (Cont.)

Part one

As a follow-up to the last post, here are the character designs for the rest of the central figures in A Revised History of Erdas. While they come second to the Four Heroes in terms of importance, these people still have big parts to play in the story.

Shane

Shane's spot on this list needs no explanation. He is the redeemed villain of the first arc and even has his own book. In ARHoE, he survives the Battle of the Tides and goes on to be closely involved with the plot of the following arcs.

One important aspect of Stetriol in ARHoE is that all its people, despite their varying skin tones, are Aboriginal. There are Stetriolans with dark skin, light skin and everywhere in between. The ones with fair skin, such as Shane, have no connection to Eurans; their lighter features are a result of evolving in the far south of the continent, where the temperatures are much colder. When comparing Shane to a Euran like Conor, the differences are clear. Their features set them apart; Shane has a wide nose, full lips and thick hair, for example, which contrasts with Conor's narrow nose, thin lips and fine hair. Despite their similarly coloured hair, skin and eyes, they are completely different races.

Shane's light golden-blond hair is, under ideal circumstances, cut short. Likewise, he meticulously shaves his facial hair. Such is the way of Stetriolan noblemen. When his transformation began, though, his mental health took a sharp nosedive, and these practices of his fell by the wayside. Abeke and Rollan meet him in The Return with hair down to the base of his neck, bangs falling into his eyes and peach fuzz lining his jaw. He resumed his normal routines after Fall of the Beasts, as his mental state and self-image improved. He has fair skin that tans easily and often. His eyes change from their natural blue to yellow-green, larger than before and with slitted pupils. These eyes have an unsettling quality about them; many cannot hold his gaze.

He is broad, powerfully built and muscular, which is partially a result of fusing with Grahv. His height was also influenced by his transformation. Naturally, his final height would have been 5'10" (177 cm) -- very tall for a Stetriolan -- but he has gained an additional two inches since he began to turn and currently stands at 6' (182 cm). He is still growing, but the process has slowed down since the initial burst.

His nose is crooked from where it was broken one too many times (once by Meilin in Fire and Ice, once by Conor in The Evertree). His scars are few, and faint against the colour of his skin. The ones he finds himself tracing most often are the ones Abeke gave him when they met in battle at Muttering Rock. He knows she bears scars from that day, too.

The change began at the site of the crocodile tattoo that curled around his chest. By the time of The Burning Tide, approximately a year and a half after the Bile lost its effect, his chest, belly, shoulders and arms were covered in tough new skin and pebbled green scales. The leathery hide on his torso hadn't yet spread around to his sides, which is how Uraza's fangs were able to pierce him. His face is also affected; apart from his eyes, his eyebrows have been replaced by scaly green ridges, giving him the look of someone turning into stone. His fingers are tipped with savage claws, and his mouth is filled with bristling crocodile teeth. These teeth are so fearsome in appearance that he rarely smiles anymore. Short spikes appeared on his back after Fall of the Beasts, small enough that they don't tear his clothing. He hasn't yet sprouted a tail, to his relief.

His accent is unique to the people of Stetriol. It is not an Australian accent (which is theorised to have been brought over by colonisers from England). It is not easy to place, which works in his favour as a Redcloak. Still, Abeke knows it well, prompting him to communicate with her via sign language or change the pitch of his voice prior to the reveal.

His Redcloak attire consists of a long-sleeved shirt with a quilted black jacket over top (partially for warmth and partially to make sure his scaly flesh is hidden from view), black trousers, black leather boots and matching gloves. He wears his sabre in a brown leather strap slung across his body. A belt wraps around his waist, to which he attaches pouches for storing small items. His heavy red cloak is draped around his shoulders; it has a hood that he uses to further conceal himself. Lastly, his mask is how it is originally described: Featureless and made of smooth white wood. Shane the Conqueror dressed simply and openly, in an attempt to make himself seem honest, unassuming. King the Redcloak intentionally dresses to hide every inch of himself. There is not a flash of hair or skin to give him away. All that is visible are his eyes.

His beaded bracelet from the Gulf of Amaya, the one that matches Abeke's, is blue, turquoise and white. Like her, he stopped wearing it openly after he sabotaged their relationship, but always kept it close. Believing Abeke would have long since discarded hers, he was surprised and touched when he learned otherwise.

Worthy

Like Shane, Worthy is indisputably one of the most influential characters in the series. He has been present since the very first page. His role stays relatively unchanged in ARHoE, and he remains relevant in Path of the Heroes.

He has long, straight, dark brown hair and dark freckles dotting his pale skin. His hair is worn in braided styles, denoting his high status. After leaving Trunswick behind and becoming a Redcloak, he usually opts to put it in a simple ponytail. With the transformation, it darkens to black. His eyes change from their natural ice-blue to brilliant, feline golden.

As Devin Trunswick, he is well-built, albeit a little soft around the middle. As Worthy, he is considerably broader and more muscular than before. His final height would be 5'5" (165 cm) if not for the curse, which is actually causing him to lose height. He currently stands at 5'2" (157 cm), approximately two years after the Bile lost its effect. This change is rapid and worrying.

Euran earls like Eric Trunswick style their facial hair into a neat moustache and beard; Worthy doesn't fuss over his as much. At sixteen, he has a faint moustache and a few dark hairs on his chin. He leaves it alone.

Elda was, in actuality, a black jaguar captured in southern Amaya -- not the true spotless wildcat of Euran legend. Worthy is turning into a jaguar, a completely different species than Donn or Wilco. Like all people with the curse, the transformation began at the site of the tattoo, in his case on his right forearm. Sleek black fur covers the length of that arm, thinning and fading back into human skin near his wrist. The fur spreads around his shoulders to his other arm as well, and in a long stripe down his spine to join with his tail. His tail is fully grown by the time of Heart of the Land, but only measures about two feet in length. Large rosettes with a spot in the centre are barely visible under the inky fur. He has long, pointed fangs and retractable claws on both his hands and feet. His senses are much sharper, especially his hearing and night vision.

He has the same Euran accent as Conor, but less broad due to his background. It is still very noticeable, though, leading him to go almost completely silent as a Redcloak to avoid being identified as a native of Eura.

Since Redcloaks generally wear the same sort of uniform to avoid giving away both their affliction and their nationalities, Worthy's clothing is similar to Shane's. He wears less layers and looser fabrics than Shane, though, so as not to restrict his movement. A dagger is fastened to his belt, but he rarely uses it, preferring his own claws in combat. Fashioned after Elda, his white mask has round ears and a feline snout. His hooded red cloak makes him seem bigger than he actually is.

Tasha

Tasha is a much different character in ARHoE than she was in the original books. In this universe, she is part of the royal family of Stetriol as Shane's cousin. After the events of Fall of the Beasts, she succeeds him and becomes the first queen regnant in Stetriolan history. Even after returning home to rule and rebuild, Queen Tasha is a recurring character in the following arcs. It is for this reason, and her introduction as a main POV in arc two, that she is considered one of the central figures of ARHoE.

She also looks completely different from how she is canonically described. In the original books, she is white, with blonde hair and blue eyes. In ARHoE, she is the Erdas equivalent of Aboriginal Australian.

She has brown skin and long, thick, straight black hair, usually worn down or in a loose braid. Her eyes are dark brown. She bears a strong resemblance to her cousins, Shane and Drina; they share many of the same facial features, especially the intense eyes. When standing next to Shane, their relation to each other is unmistakable.

She gains some muscle from her adventures with Abeke and Rollan, but had a strong, toned build to begin with. Her final height is 5’3" (160 cm). This is above average for a Stetriolan woman, but not enough to be considered tall.

Ever fond of jewelry, she likes to wear necklaces strung with shells and large, hanging earrings in circular or diamond shapes, hand-painted with detailed designs, some with bunches of swan feathers hanging from the ends. She got the idea of wearing Ninani's feathers from Rollan. These would obviously be a disadvantage in a fight, so if she is expecting action she will preemptively take them out.

The tattoo of Ninani is branded on her right shoulder, wings outstretched and neck curved in an S shape. Since the bird is all white, she manifests as only an outline in tattoo form.

Tasha shares the same Stetriolan accent as Shane. As royals, their accents are somewhat more cultivated than the common folk's.

While on the run with Abeke and Rollan, she had to forego her long dress in favour of more practical clothes salvaged from the Tellun's Pride II -- a too-large white tunic and trousers, with a belt to hold them up. As queen of Stetriol, she wears a beautiful white dress with gold flowers embroidered along its hem and sleeves, sometimes with a possum-skin cloak draped over top, and a simple gold circlet as a crown. A feathered headdress and white face paint are worn for ceremonial occasions. The quarterstaff she trained and fought with, a Euran weapon made of ash, remains with her in her castle chambers. In its place she took up a royal sceptre, tipped with a marble swan. It serves as both a symbol of her sovereignty and a comforting reminder of the weapon she came to rely on.

Takoda

Takoda is included because he became a main POV in Fall of the Beasts, along with Tasha.

His hair is dark and curly, but he is required to shave it off as a monk. He has no way of doing this properly while underground with Conor and Meilin, so in the long months of their journey his hair grows to be about two inches long. He has medium-brown skin and dark brown eyes. His features are more Niloan than Zhongese, but still ambiguous enough to indicate that he is of mixed race.

He is naturally slender and willowy, but grows quite gaunt during his travels in Sadre. His final height is 5'5" (165 cm).

As a baby, Takoda received the tribal marks of his mother's people, the Belawa of southern Nilo. Unlike the deep grooves of the Yufandi, Belawa scarifications are raised bumps on the skin. Two rows of the small marks form a wide arc around Takoda's right eye, beginning above his brow and ending at his cheek. Usually, both sides of the face are marked in this way. Takoda's particular style signifies that he is Belawa on only one side of his family.

Like in the original books, his tattoo of Kovo stretches from his neck to his collarbone, a location that is impossible to miss. It does not, however, extend up to his jaw. Takoda doesn't like the placement very much, but luckily for him, Kovo rarely confines himself to the passive state.

He has a southern Niloan accent, with minimal influence from his Zhongese father.

In his monastery, he wears his signature blue cotton robes, fastened with a white sash, and sandals. When he temporarily joined the Greencloaks, he switched to the practical travelling clothes that everyone else wears -- tunic, trousers, boots. The tunic he chose was blue, like his old robes. His travelling cloak doubled as a blanket.

Irtike

Irtike is included on this list because, much like Tasha, she has an expanded role in ARHoE. She was a part of the Greencloak expedition to Stetriol in The Evertree, was infected by Zerif in Fall of the Beasts, and all throughout, has an important role as Abeke's cousin. Finally, she joins the main cast in Path of the Heroes.

She has cool-toned dark brown skin, darker than Abeke's, and dark brown eyes. Her short, coily dark hair is worn in the Yufandi style of braids and adorned with wooden beads. It sits at about neck-length, and she lets them hang loose around her head. Her resemblance to Abeke is not as noticeable as Tasha's to Shane; it takes a few moments of studying her face to realise the similarities. They both favour their mothers, who were sisters.

She is slight in stature; unhealthily thin in Nilo, but filling out to a more average build after enough time in Greenhaven. Her final height is 5'2" (157 cm).

Her tribal marks are similar, but not identical, to Abeke's. Irtike has the same three vertical grooves on each cheek (meaning that she is Yufandi), but only one on her forehead (meaning that she is Marked). She lacks the additional two forehead notches that her cousin has, which are for Rain Dancers.

Her tattoo of Mikak curls around her ankle. She wanted her spirit animal tattoo to be in the same place as her mother's.

As a former inhabitant of Okaihee, she has a western Niloan accent.

Irtike was so accustomed to the fierce heat of Nilo that the much milder climate of Greenhaven Island was a massive change for her. It took her months to acclimate, and even now she still prefers to wear several layers. She typically wears a fur-lined coat or woollen shirt with brown trousers and brown leather boots. A small, fur-lined bag to hold Mikak in is secured to her chest. She is very fond of her thick travelling cloak, and is usually seen wrapped up in that rather than a regular green cloak.

Song

Empress Song deserves a place here, as she was the main villain and a recurring POV in arc three. Although she is taken for dead in Path of the Heroes, her demise cannot be proved, and she haunts the arc's narrative.

She has tan skin (a lighter shade than Meilin's, due to her spending so much time indoors), long, straight black hair and dark brown eyes. She places a dangling, jewelled hairpin (called buyao) in her hair, one that sways as she moves. For public appearances, both as princess and empress, she powders her face, neck, hands and any other exposed skin, applies rouge to her cheeks and red gloss to her lips, and draws her eyebrows. For Song, a full face of makeup is like a mask that she can hide behind. Few have seen her without it.

Her petite stature belies her true nature. She stands at 5' (152 cm), which is somewhat short for a woman from her part of Zhong.

Her ears are pierced, and she wears dangling pendants made with gold, pearls or cut glass as earrings. She especially loves her glass earrings, admiring the way they catch the light.

Seaspray’s long body twists up the length of Song’s upper arm in tattoo form. His tail snakes around her elbow, and his head rests lovingly on her shoulder.

She has a refined central Zhongese accent, like Meilin.

The silk robes she favoured as a princess were in dazzling shades of green and blue. As empress, her formal wear includes a rich purple robe, lavishly embroidered with dragons and phoenixes, and a heavy, ornate fengguan (phoenix crown) made of gold and precious stones. Her headpiece holds her updo in place; it is a notably stiffer style than how she wore her hair previously, half of it loose and streaming over her shoulders with a bun at the back of her head.

And with that, the character design posts are complete! As mentioned in part one, everything you see described here is how I picture the characters, and how they will be portrayed in A Revised History of Erdas.

#text post #character designs #a revised history of erdas #spirit animals #spirit animals books #spirit animals series #shane #worthy #tasha #takoda #irtike #song

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quitealotofsodapop · 10 months ago

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Question for Azure

Hypothetical situation. Tripitaka stops being a tiger but still has children with Azure. Would Azure still love Sanzang?

Has Azure given any gifts to Tang? Has Tripitaka accepted any appointments with Azure?

Has Manjushri had any meeting with Faming? (I like conversations between in-laws)

In a situation where Tripitaka was returned to his human form, like say when he makes it to Thunderclap Monastery, it would be a startling situation. But one that the two would quickly adapt to;

Tripitaka, now human form: "Azure forgive me. This is the form I was born with, not the fearsome tiger that you've grown fond of. I understand if your feelings towards me have changed. I only wish that we continue to love and teach the children as we did before." Azure, quiet for a long time: (*cubs the human monk's cheek in his paw*) Azure, smiling: "Whilst this is a big change for me; for the past decade I have found myself falling for the monk that sat within that tiger skin, not the stripes themselves. I would be a fool to have my feelings change based upon appearances. And an even greater fool to even think of abandoning our cubs." Tripitaka, eyes watering: "You... you're an incorrigible lion." Azure: "And you're a soft-hearted monk." (*both place their foreheads together as they did before*) Azure, teasing chuckle: "I imagine you will have to learn how to be human again?" Tripitaka, paling: "Oh graciousness, you're right. I've been baring fangs and grooming fur for the last decade! Wukong's teachings will be for naught." :(

The cubs would be very confused, but immediately recognise the smell of their now-human mother - all three rushing forward for a hug. Tripitaka's heart aches that he's no longer able to teach his children how to grow into big cats, but Azure and his dear Pilgrims are quick to step in and help!

The very first magic that the cubs master is their human forms - all so they can show off to their human parent. Tripitaka would cry from the sweet sentiment.

As for "Has Azure given any gifts to Tang?";

I feel like big cat-demon courtship can include aspects of real-life cats, so I immediately thought of Azure presenting Tripitaka with a dead bird or mouse like how housecats do. XD Tripitaka would certainly faint if that happened.

Azure would be mortified that his attempt at a courtship gift failed, and he'd attempt to make it up to Tripitaka by taking him somewhere peaceful so that they could mediate and appreciate nature together.

Azure def sends gifts to the cubs long after they've left the nest - in the modern day, grown-up Tangzi/Tang still gets care packages of rare treats from Camel Ridge that he shares with Pigsy and MK.

As for "Has Tripitaka accepted any appointments with Azure?";

What sort of "appointments"? ;) Do you dates like a romantic couple or... help with seasonal discomforts?

If the monk did, he certainly wouldn't let anyone know!

Unless an "appointment" led to a fourth cub! XD

(the fourth cub would be the color of a maltese tiger and be named Mèng Huàn/梦幻/"dream")

I love the idea of Manjushri and Fa Ming being good friends after learning that they've become in-laws. The bodhisattva and old abbot have many stories to share! That is of course if they aren't distracted by their shared grandchildren running into the room to play!

#tiger monk au #goldenmane #goldenmaneshipping #lmk tripitaka #tang sanzang #lmk azure lion #lmk aus #lmk #lego monkie kid

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pursuitseternal · 2 years ago

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“Thickening:” spicy morning after for Astarion x Cordehlia (f!oc) in “Our Blood is Thicker”

Astarion x F!OC | E | 3.6K morning after smut

Summary: Cordehlia wakes the next morning for another bout of eager Vampire between her legs, and as they return, the camp reacts.

CW: a hint of somnophilia, oral sex, flirtatious banter, sweet little hand-holding, camp reactions, jealous!Gale, and a journey to the Underdark underway.

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Chapter 7: “Thickening”

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Cordehlia woke shivering, not just from the cold dawn breeze. Something wet lapped between her thighs, gentle and deliberate, licking through her drenched seam. Shifting, she spread her legs wider, making more room for those all-too-familiar arms to curl behind her knees. As if she wasn’t already wet and slick enough from the three times they had coupled during the night… she smiled anyway, breathing a sigh, a noise of pure bliss as he swirled his tongue over her clit to great effect.

Astarion chuckled, low and deep and delighted at her body’s response, his fangs catching slightly on her folds as he smiled. He was beyond happy. Beyond filled. Even as his hunger for blood gnawed at his belly, his body finally felt warm, if only in his mind. Warm, relaxed, sated.

Cordehila scratched her fingers into his hair, no words from her mouth. Only the little mewls and breaths she sighed louder the closer he pushed her into climax. Waves rippled down her spine with each suck and swirl he made. Gods, for all the times he had tasted her, little ways they had joined before, the explorations of one another in their foolish youth… he was never this good.

She would bite her tongue and never complain over this, she giggled.

Long and cold and crooking, he slipped his fingers deep inside her clenching walls. Pumping them in and out and teasing whatever other pleasures he could from inside her.

Already so swollen, so wet and aching, it was more than enough to throw her back into orgasm. Her thighs clenched hard around his head, squeezing and trembling as she lost all control. The world around her blurred, her vision speckled with stars, her jaw clenching shut to keep the keening cries quiet in the silent dawn.

Those dexterous fingers, that eager tongue, he kept them gently pleasuring her until her body relaxed, limp and hot against the ground.

Then and only then, he looked up. “Good morning,” he purred, stroking his hands over her legs as he eased them back down.

Cordehlia only gave a deep, contented sigh in reply, a soft shake of her messy red hair as he slunk his body to lay beside her.

“I figured that you could use one more before we have to head back to join…” he grimaced in petty disgust, “the others.”

“You have to be cautious doing that, Astarion, my love,” she finally found her voice, quiet and thick as it was. “Do you know how many enemies of mine have had their necks snapped between these thighs in battle?”

His face lit up like she had offered him the most delicious of sweets, eyes wide and handsome features lifting in delight. “Hundreds? Thousands?” he nearly stuttered excitedly. “As if I couldn’t adore your body any more than I already do, my fearsome darling.”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything,” she smirked, withholding her full smile and laughter even as it pained her. “I doubt if we begin again, it would go unnoticed this time.”

“Oh please,” he quirked his brows and licked his lips, “given the noise you made, I’m sure they already know…”

“And what about the noise you made, hmm?” she let that smirk spread, grabbing right for his softened cock, softly holding his balls as he groaned. Feeling it twitching back to life, she craned her head in for a kiss.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, darling…” he rasped into her kiss. “But I think if that is your wish, I will need an extra little something on my tongue to keep me going…”

“Blood, you mean,” she feigned an irritated grumble, craning her neck, tempting him with that pale skin already punctured and marked fresh from the night.

He ran his tongue over the artery beneath that beautiful alabaster flesh. “My dear, nothing gets me harder than the taste of you, each and every time… so quickly too.” Pressing his lips over the recent wounds, he sucked gently. A groan sounding from her mouth. “Why, would you like a demonstration, with that hand of yours still holding my…”

“Shut up and suck, if you’re hungry,” she managed to say, a wriggle of her body beside him more as he pressed his lips closer. “But we really better be going…”

Asrarion lapped, just sucking enough to make those two little bite marks begin to bleed once more.

“But whatever happens, we are returning to the camp before every single person awakes to watch us walking back disheveled and…”

“Properly fucked?” he whispered between deafening sucks on her neck.

“Yes,” Cordehlia giggled. “Very properly fucked.” His cock stiffened in her hand, her fingers almost feeling the flow of her blood filling him in every vein, hardening his whole body, even as that length twitched to life.

“Sure you don’t think you’re a bit shy yet from properly fucked?” he asked, so slyly, so eagerly as he raised his bloodied lips from her again. A little thrust of his erection against her hand was to just add that little extra level of persuasion.

And Cordehlia just gave a low chuckle, gripping his length in that hand for a few little teasing strokes. “Mmm, perhaps better to leave you wanting so you’ll have a reason to invite me for another visit to your bed tonight….”

“Or perhaps I would be ever so more eager if you give in to me just once more, darling,” he purred right into her ear, letting the brush of his lips and the whisper of his breath tickle her.

Her moan, the way she twisted beneath him made him smile; she was giving in, that resolute little warrior melting away as her hand began working all the more attentively on his cock. The sweep of her thumb over his seeping slit sent a jolt through his body, his hips grinding into her hold.

Suddenly, she shifted beside him, scooting across the ground, sliding down his body, a mischievous grin on her perfect lips. “Since you’ve woken me with that talented mouth of yours, seems only fair I attempt to return the favor,” she rasped, a kiss against his belly, hands splayed on his hips to push him above her.

“I’ll admit,” he replied, a shiver of anticipation down his body, “I’m not always one for fairness, but this, I’ll enjoy…”

Cordehlia laughed, “Whatever pleases you, my love.” And with that, she softly licked the seed already dripping into the earth. That bitter tang, she had missed it. Not that she had tasted it since last they had…. Well, she tried not to let her fear make her stumble over her inexperience. Closing her eyes, she just savored him, the way his skin was oh so smooth… every little jab and twitch he made inside the heat of her mouth…

And then, he thrusted. Her throat closed around his length, making her swallow. A little gag around his cock.

It made him groan at the contact and pressure.

This time, she was ready, taking him in as deep as she could, pursing her lips around that long, veiny length. Giving him something to take pleasure in. “So good,” he rasped between his groans, “Gods, Cordehlia.” His body began to shake, his cock thickening the more he thrust into that entrancing warm wet.

She gave a laugh, the little extra vibrations of her voice running along her tongue as she swirled it along that little groove as he pumped in and out.

“You keep that up,” he groaned, leaning down to watch how she took him in her lips, “and you’ll return to camp with me already having broken your fast. A full belly, darling.”

She laughed again, wrapping her hand around what couldn’t fit inside, slowly stroking him. With a long, hard suck, she popped off his head, keeping her fist deliciously tight. “You’re one to accuse me of hunger, my love.”

Oh, he was close, her taunting enough to push him at last, one more time in the dawn. That warm, teasing damp of her mouth taking him back in, it consumed him, flooding him with that release, his body hitching, groaning, spasming until he filled her mouth and throat with his seed. But even more delicious was the feeling of her throat rippling, swallowing him down. Her tongue licking every last little pulse and squirt of his cum until he was empty. That beat of familiarity humming through him, body, mind and soul, once more.

“Feels… divine…” Astarion finally gasped enough air to speak. “Familiar again.”

He shifted to lay beside her, fixated by her smiling lips and bright eyes.

“Well,” she grinned, secretive and proud, the cat that ate the canary. Or the one who guzzled down her love’s spew. “Considering it was one of the first ways we came to… how would you put it… indulge one another? I’m not surprised it feels familiar.” Her fingers wiped the corner of her mouth. “I probably swallowed you down more than I had my first drinks of fairy wine by the time we were to be…”

Married, she choked on the unspoken word.

That sudden sadness turned at the corner of her eyes. No tadpole was needed for him to feel the slice of pain in her body. “Well, your experience came in handy…” he whispered, wrapping his long arms around her shoulders, drawing her to lay across his chest. Then he looked at her with all his teasing wicked mischief. “Handy… and mouthy too,” he taunted.

That little, cheap, plebeian humor did the trick, he breathed with relief, watching her pain turn to a slightly-peeved smile. “Now, I think we better not leave the others to suppose anything nefarious has happened. Well, nothing more than a good solid fucking…” He stood from her prone body, reaching that elegant hand out for hers. Pulling her to her feet, he planted a little kiss on the back of her hand before reaching for his discarded clothing. Cordehlia did softly giggle to herself, watching him shoving his softening erection into the top of his breeches. Laughter that made him twist those breathtaking features to give that stomach-fluttering smirk.

In the light of day, those scars were clear, the Infernal script covering almost every inch of his flesh. She shuddered even as she completed them, dressing herself.

Suddenly her mind ached, remembering that flash from the tadpole the moment they had met on the beach. It still felt real, fresh as if they were connected. But her mind was clear. The pain lancing through her back, the darkness and isolation, the imprisonment. Wanting to just be numb instead of having hope…

Now she knew.

She crossed over, catching him just as he was shuffling on his shirt. Pressing her fingers to the thickened rises and ridges, he stopped, frozen. Arms shoved in the sleeves about to shrug it over his body. “What does it look like?” he asked, so quiet, so strained. As if he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “The poem Cazador carved in me…”

“I never learned Infernal, but it doesn’t look like a poem…” she traced over it, letting her fingers map out the design. “Can you feel it?”

He nodded solemnly, swallowing loudly as he turned. “I’ve always felt it, but I have never seen it. Mirrors are of no use when you have my… condition,” he replied, a blunt edge of defeat in his silken voice.

“Well,” Cordehlia murmured as she finished tugging her own clothes on, “your eyes are not the only set that can look at your body…” she reached for his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Eyes to see and a willing heart to help you, Astarion…”

His face quirked, as if such words of love, of support were so unfamiliar to his ears. So strange. “Thank you,” he managed to reply after a moment.

They began walking back down the trail like that, hand in hand. Astarion didn’t want to look too closely, barely moving aside from letting their clasped hands sway in time with their ambling strides. Holding his breath and waiting for the moment she would free her fingers from his hold. To pull away from him. Inevitable.

But even as they approached the camp, their companions already seated around the fire, she didn’t budge.

Not even when they all turned to watch them stroll back into their midst. Touching.

“Well,” Gale cleared his throat. “I assume you’ve worked up the appetite.” His face grinned, a bit embarrassed perhaps. “Good morning walk?”

“You idiot, they totally fucked,” Karlach cackled, a slap on the wizard’s shoulder.

Crodehlia grinned slyly, the secret between them dancing on her swollen and thickened lips.

“Not a late night sparring session?” Wyll grinned, his scarred face twisting in taunting amusement.

Astarion gave that giggle of his, fueled by the way her hand seemed to clasp even tighter on his. “Either way, after three, four rounds, it’s amazing either of us is able to meander back to grace you with our presence.”

Gale’s jaw dropped, and Karlach burst in a fit of cackling.

“We have much to do,” Cordehlia grinned, her voice lilting, stiffened with command and expectation. “First and foremost, we need to get the Underdark and find our way forward…”

“Always the commander,” Wyll nodded with approval before turning to begin packing for the journey.

“Won’t you give me a hand, my dear, with our tent?” Astarion grinned, turning his head to look down at where she still stood at his side. Emboldened, he pulled her hand to wrap around his waist.

Gods, she let him.

Then, she turned that ethereal face up to his. A little smile on her lips, she raised on her toes to place a quick peck on his smirking lips.

“I shall get my things, first,” she replied, calmly and steadily. Pressing her tone, as if she was swallowing down so many more emotions than what managed to sneak through in her expression.

“Don’t linger too long, my darling,” the words fumbled out hastily, before his body launched of its own will. His hands wound to the back of her head, his mouth working furiously to taste her. To caress her.

To claim her before them all.

With a gentle tug in her hair, he pulled her back. Kiss snapping loudly apart. That little edge of pain making her shiver against his body. Her lips smiled softly, her eyes half-lidded and begging silently for more.

But he slowed himself; they would never find an answer to these tadpoles, an answer to the scars on his back or an agonizing vengeance against Cazador if he couldn’t keep himself from dragging her to his bed day and night. He smirked to himself as he let go and turned back to his tent.

Cordehlia watched him leave, drinking in the graceful, silent way he stalked. He looked happy, sated, meandering his way back to his abode, pleased and pleasured in every way. But her rapt attention was suddenly drawn by someone at her elbow, clearing his throat with obvious disapproval.

Gale looked at her, his mouth flat, his shoulders bunched and tensed. “So,” he mumbled, “the Underdark, as Master Halsin suggested…”

“That is not the question that burns your tongue, is it, Gale?” she raised a brow, arms folding before her. Resolute.

“No, but I fear giving you offense, my friend.”

“None more than I most likely gave you,” she replied, collected and calm.

But Gale just shrugged. “I can’t say I’m flabbergasted that the Lady Corvus would take the Vampire Spawn as her lover,” he snipped. And instantly, as if he was shocked by his own caustic tone, he raised his hands, “My apologies. I… I speak out of turn. That is not fair to you, Cordehlia, or all you have gone through.” He tugged the collar of his tunic down, showing the full design of that strange sigil in his chest. “We all do foolish things for power and… love…”

Her mind recalled the long-winded story of his love for Mystra, of the risks he took to win her affection and a shred of her power. And all that it cost him now. And all the loot it cost Cordehlia too, just to keep him from suffering terribly.

“You may be relieved to know that over the course of last night, Astarion…”

Gale shoved his hand in her direction. “If it’s anything along the lines of what he will undoubtedly be gloating about later today, I don’t know if I can stomach it before breakfast has settled.” He gulped.

“No, no,” Cordehlia laughed. “He’s, he’s remembering. He’s returning to himself, well,” she shrugged her shoulders, “returning to more of what made him… him.”

“That is good for you, I’m sure,” Gale gave a feeble smile, “but it won’t undo two centuries of what he did… of what he was made to do as a slave, a spawn to Cazador.”

Cordehlia looked him square in the face, her silver eyes narrowed, trying to read his meaning. No magic. No tadpole. Just the shape gaze of an ancient being. “I am not trying to undo anyone’s darkness. Gods know, if I could, I would undo my own first. But perhaps, you were right that day we first found him on the beach.”

She turned, looking across the camp at the flurry of activity to make ready for a long road. A sigh heavy from her little chest as she undoubtedly watched her rogue scuttle about, stashing his luxuries to be transported on the road. Then she turned to level that intensity right at her wizard.

“It is not just that blood runs thicker than water, Gale. His and mine are one and the same now. Bonded. Tethered. Purified in the darkness we each walked until we found one another once more. It is our blood that is thicker.”

Gale nodded and furrowed, “Thickened by bloodlust, by abuse from being the weapon of others, and the need for more and more…”

“Revenge?” that honey-dripping voice sounded almost out of nowhere. “I think that’s the word you were going for, Gale,” Astarion mused, leering at the wizard from over the top of her fiery red hair. “Don’t you know it’s rude to discuss other people’s private… bedroom matters?”

“Bedroom?” Gale scoffed in disbelief. “You bedded her in the dirt by the looks of it,” he was scowling.

“Lady likes to get dirty with her rogue,” Astarion shrugged, cool and collected and flashing his fangs. “And the lady is always right…”

“Hush, you both, there is too much to do to have such dissension,” Cordehlia, first thrusting a finger in Gale’s face before turning around to plant a good, hard slap on Astarion’s shoulder. She pulled him by the collar, thrusting her face into his, a slight baring of her teeth as she gave a feral smile. “Play nice, or next time, it won’t be your shoulder I slap,” she hissed. Then her eyes flashed to those full, smirking lips, catching them in a ravenous kiss. “And I won’t be so gentle,” she added as she broke away. So pressed and quiet.

“Don’t make promises you won’t keep, darling,” he rasped right back.

Her brow quirked, her jaw clenched as she eyed him. “Won’t you be surprised, then.”

“Thrilled,” he purred in response, and already, even after all they done… last night… this morning… he couldn’t ignore that thickening below his belt she conjured now. Every time.

But she just smiled and sauntered right past him. Observing that determination down her every inch, he rolled his shoulders. They wouldn’t stop today until they reached the Underdark. So whatever it was that thickened and needed release would have to wait. It would be bloodlust over lust for now.

It only took a few moments to pack it all up and start the journey. Cordehlia walked in the front of the pack, a spring in her step everyone knew was caused by the vampire who sprang right behind her. He seemed even closer, if that was possible.

He kept those crimson eyes on her at all times, even if it was a single corner, the edge of his periphery. Which is why, as a smoke cloud burst in their path, he leaped right in front of her, daggers drawn and fangs bared. But it wasn’t enough, not as some swarthy, handsome figure swayed his way forward. His voice dripped with temptation, in a deep and rich baritone. “My, my,” he smiled, “the Lady Corvus in the flesh. May I just say…” his trick brows canted in dark amusement, “…I’m your biggest fan.”

Cordehlia’s frame went taut, her body brushing past her lover to stare this intruder down with that iron gaze of her. “Can’t say I recognize you, fan or not,” she sneered.

“Well, why wouldn’t I be? You’ve sent me so many thousands of souls in your conquests and victories, but I do suppose I remain a nameless, faceless admirer of your handiwork.” The stranger extended an arm, fingers unfurling in her direction. “But introductions are better suited for less… humble places… And I shan’t keep you from your feeble search for a cure. Besides,” his leer deepened in that deep-set face, “you’ll want to hear what I have to say, for you, your tadpole-infested companions, and your Vampire Spawn lover.”

Astarion seemed ready to spring, muscles bunched, fangs bared and wide as he hissed at the threat. But before he could unleash any undead fury, the world turned to smoke and ash, the stink of sulfur and brimstone filled their noses.

And darkness swallowed them all at once.

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deletarius-draws · 6 months ago

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Angaria 'Red Scale' Axia Portrait Illustration

Angaria “Red Scale” Axia – (Majestic Ferocity & Feral Discipline, she had been born for such things. – Valindra Xarann). Angaria was forged from a harrowing blend of Feywild fungal, draconic and other monstrous DNA, an experiment in brutality and loyalty orchestrated by Jhulqira. (Known in the hells as “Deiva-Deivos” & “The Baleful Executor”, stated by Jhulqira). Her origins shrouded in mystery, even to those within the Rubellyn Feywild, Angaria emerged from the trials unrecognizable. Her pale icy blue gaze, harbors a primal rage, her bloodshot eyes with serpentine veins envelops her sclera. Her appearance alone portrays the monstrous nature of her creation. Angaria’s maw, lined with unnaturally sharp dense fangs, reveals the genetic tampering and alchemical manipulations that birthed her. Her strengthen beastly maw causes her to speak with an intense growl and low brazen voice. Due to her beastly slightly overgrown teeth, Jhulqira’s Drow colleagues and assistants are assigned to teach her how to speak. Improving her annunciation in several languages, more specifically common. Angaria’s strengthened and sharpened maw makes her capable of tearing and rending through armor and flesh alike. This further increases ferocity in close-quarters combat.

Standing tall with pronounced musculature and draconic red scales along the sides of her body, she is a fearsome sight graceful in figure yet terrifying, a wild beast tamed for a singular purpose. Jhulqira’s experimental creation drew disapproval and fear among the Feywild beings, seen as an affront to their natural order. Which called fourth an Rubellyn Archfey Court gathering to discuss whether Angaria’s creation would benefit or destroy the Rubellyn Feywild. Nevertheless, he assured them of her unwavering loyalty, her unparalleled ferocity in defense of Rubellyn. Angaria’s brutal transformation, unlike any other Axi, was marked by intense, extensive trials and missions within the Underdark, where she was initially an uncontrollable force of destruction. It is speculated by others that Jhulqira sends her down there for his own personal dubious reasons. Only through severe excruciating conditioning, affirmation sessions, mental scraping and programming, was she controlled and instilled with a semblance of honor and discipline.

Her moniker, “Red Scale” was given to her due to her draconic scales that adorn the sides of her body, furthering speculation of her having some relation to Red Dragons. The red draconic scales provide natural armor, enhancing her durability and giving her a fearsome appearance. Angaria’s relentless hell spawn slaying aligns her closely with Jhulqira’s designs, her very existence forged as a weapon against the Hells’ infernal forces. Angaria’s musculature and height give her immense strength, allowing her to perform feats of raw power such as ripping enemies apart or smashing through barriers. Excelling in unbridled offense, often serving as the vanguard in battle. Her combat style is highly aggressive and unabating, inevitably overwhelming enemies with sheer force. With heightened senses that allow her to detect enemies even in complete darkness or through magical concealments sniffing them out like a hound, (though only literally, not really). Her intellect, masked by her barbaric behavior and exterior, allows her to communicate and strategize, though she remains perceived as a feral beast by many. Angaria’s assigned attacks on the specific strongholds within the Hells are legendary. Missions where she single-handedly decimated demon battalions and brought down towering infernal constructs, her Feywild fungal DNA allowing her to return even after obliteration, much to the dread of her enemies. The Feywild fungal essence she carries enables her to regenerate over time from fatal wounds, making her nearly indestructible on the battlefield. It is her form of self-restoration.

Those of the Hells view her with a mixture of fear and hatred, recognizing her as an unstoppable force designed to annihilate their kind. Angaria’s reputation as a relentless demon killer is well-known in the Hells. Her ability to return after being obliterated strikes fear in to the hearts of her infernal foes. Her presence on the battlefield is a harbinger of doom for any infernal forces that cross her path. This also makes her a target for infernal warriors seeking to challenge her, out of hatred and a modicum of respect.

Her relationship with other Aximand warriors and Feywild beings is complex; they see her as a necessary but very unsettling presence, a feral protector whose loyalty lies solely with the Axi military. Even so, her ferocious dedication to Rubellyn commands a grudging respect, marking her as a unique and indispensable warrior in their ranks. Angaria is a dreadful testament to Jhulqira’s twisted ingenuity and a symbol of Rubellyn’s more ruthless resolve to safeguard their realm.

Jhulqira, to further inflict pain for Angaria’s ravaging combat prowess, he implanted enhanced organs within her. Organs that cause immense sharp pains throughout her body and resulting in severe migraines that push her to perpetually slaughter her foes. If she were to stop for even a millisecond she would feel excruciating pain, the pain lessens somewhat when she continues her onslaught. Many who witness her on the battlefield are always in awe, as she cleaves through enemy lines like a worker in a field, leaving her enemies fatally wounded to bleed out if they survive her clean sweep of an onslaught.

Angaria’s existence is always in question, even by her own allies. Her being an elf seems impossible; most find it hard to believe a high-elf behaves or even fights with such graceless brutality. For those of the Feywild, no one knows which of the High-elves Angaria originated from, Aelvaren, Eladrin or any the Tel-quessir.

“In order to combat the unyielding monstrosities arrayed against us, why not create a formidable force of our own, one that embodies our ideals, values, and the very essence of our realm’s safety? I put fourth, and firmly believe, that Angaria is the quintessential embodiment of this vision. Let us set her loose upon our adversaries.” -Jhulqira Frier’athen

Angaria’s origins are shrouded in mystery. It is unknown who she was before her transformation, or as the Axi call it, “Rebirth”, and even those of the Feywild are unsure of who or what she was before, it is speculated that this is what Jhulqira intended. Jhulqira’s experiments were severe, involving genetic essence and alchemical mixture of monstrous DNA. Angaria’s trials in the Underdark left her unhinged and feral, until she would be subdued and mentally conditioned for loyalty. While Angaria is fiercely loyal to the Aximand Axia and Rubellyn, she harbors a deep-seated resentment for the torture she endured and the implanted pain mechanisms she continues to experience. The Feywild beings view Angaria with a mixture of fear and respect. Her ferocity is seen as a necessary evil, but her presence is unsettling to those who value the natural order.

Angaria’s presence to certain divine orders and societies fill them with unease, questioning where her true nature and loyalties lie, she is expected to prove herself far more than the other Axi. The two goddesses and some of those that follow them work in allegiance with the Axi and Rubellyn. Selûne (Goddess of the Moon) views Angaria with a blend of shock and concern. Her creation, blending fungal and draconic DNA, seems to defy the natural order that Selûne upholds. However, over time, Selûne comes to Angaria’s unwavering dedication to protecting Rubellyn. While she remains wary of the methods used to create Angaria, she respects her loyalty and ferocity in combat.

Mystra (Goddess of Magic) is fascinated by Angaria’s creation. The blend of fungal regeneration and draconic traits presents a unique magical phenomenon that piques her interest. Mystra sees the potential in Angaria’s abilities and may offer guidance to refine her magical prowess. She respects the intellectual aspect of Angaria, recognizing her ability to adapt and strategize.

Angaria’s great two-handed Axe, “Mother Ichor”

Crudely yet Efficiently Forged

“All I know and will ever know, is the crawling black of my mind, seeing the crimson spread, and watching it flow.” – Angaria ‘Red-Scale’ Axia

The axe is forged with a primal, almost barbaric efficiency. Its crude design contrasts with the elegance of the typical Axi weapons, highlighting Angaria’s untamed nature. The axe’s blade is a shimmering golden-red, with iridescent accents of red swirling within its hue. This unique coloration adds an eerie beauty to the weapon, making it stand out on the battlefield. Mother Ichor is an exceptionally large and heavy weapon, requiring immense strength to wield. Its sheer size and weight makes it a devastating tool in combat. The edge of Mother Ichor is designed to inflict perpetual bleeding upon its targets. Each strike slices deeply, causing opponents to suffer continuous damage as they bleed out. This bleeding effect adds to Angaria’s ferocity, ensuring that her enemies are not only incapacitated but also left to suffer the consequences of their wounds.

While Mother Ichor was forged outside of the typical Axi forges, the schematics of Axi forgery were used in its creation. So that the Axe is not only powerful but also uniquely suited to Angaria’s combat style. The use of Axi schematics signifies the weapon’s significance and connection to Angaria’s role as an Axi warrior. It is both a symbol of her strength and a testament to the brutal process that forged her. Mother Ichor, in Angaria’s hands, becomes a weapon of overwhelming force. Each swing is delivered with a strength that can cleave through armor and bone, leaving devastation in its wake. Designed specifically attuned to her Alkanine essence, it allows her to channel her rage and wild magic into each strike. The Sight of Angaria wielding Mother Ichor strikes fear into her enemies. The weapon’s immense size and brutal make, combined with its wielder’s ferocity, create an intimidating presence on the battlefield. Her perpetual restoration and enhanced physical capabilities allow her to relentlessly pursue her enemies, with Mother Ichor solidifying that each encounter ends in bloodshed.

Jhulqira thought it would be, ‘amusing’, if he used the genetic essence and alchemical mixtures of monstrous DNA to create a wild but tamed weapon, loyal only to the Aximand Axia, the Rubellyn Feywild and most importantly Jhulqira himself. He also mentions in his notes how ludicrous the contrast of her nature and personality would fair alongside other Fey beings. As he puts it mockingly, “She lacks that irritable whimsical nature and silly characteristic of her kin.” Expressing his humor in forging an elf (of sorts), with questionable grace and having others question if she is even an elf anymore at this point.

Angaria’s creation caused a disturbance and disapproval among many Feywild beings, her creation was perceived an insult to Aelvaren, Eladrin and the natural Feywild beings alike. Yet, Jhulqira would reassure that she is still loyal to Rubellyn. A grand hall of the Archfey Council in Rubellyn, led by Lady Dreamweaver, in a magnificent chamber adorned with ancient runes and illuminated by the soft glow of bioluminescent flora. However, the atmosphere is tense, filled with anticipation and dread as the council gathers to discuss the creation of Angaria.

The meeting begins...

The grand hall of the Archfey Council in Rubellyn was a spectacle of ancient majesty. The chamber, adorned with intricate runes and illuminated by the soft glow of bioluminescent flora, exuded an otherworldly beauty. The air was suffused with the heady scent of rare blooms, clashing with the grim tension that filled the room. Anticipation and dread hung heavy as the council gathered to discuss the creation of Angaria.

Lady Dreamweaver, resplendent in her ethereal elegance, began the meeting from her high-seated balcony, her voice carrying a melodious yet imposing tone. “Hello my children, tis good to see you all again. Alas, we convene today to address a matter of grave concern. The creation of this…” She glanced at Angaria standing beside Jhulqira, “Angaria ‘Red Scale’ Axia, has stirred unease among us all.”

Illaikus, irked and cautious, whispered just enough for Jhulqira to hear, “Jhulqira, what have you wrought? This... Abomination stands before us, her presence an affront to the very essence of the Feywild.”

Jhulqira, calm and composed, a smirk playing at his lips, addressed Illaikus and the others. “I assure you, Angaria is loyal to Rubellyn and the Axi. Her creation is a calculated necessity to counter the malevolent forces, more targeting our infernal enemies.”

Priallia, her face worrisome and voice fluctuating with involuntary emotion, interjected, “Necessity...? This is a grotesque mockery of Rubellyn values. You’ve twisted her into something barely recognizable as an elf. She embodies an insult to the heritage she once represented and those who allowed us to stay in Rubellyn.” Turning to Lady Dreamweaver, she added, “Our Lady Dreamweaver, I apologize for this involuntary creation.”

Lady Dreamweaver’s glare from atop her balcony was as cold as it was regal. “I only wish to hear what Jhulqira has to say on the matter of this... creation of his.” Jhulqira rolled his eyes under his dark hood, his hair fringing across his eyelids.

An Eladrin elder council member’s voice boomed, yet tinged with fear, “Look at her! She looks like a wild beast, a creature of nightmares. How can we trust such a being to guard us?”

Another council member, her voice low and hesitant, added, “I fear this goes too far. We uphold balance and harmony, yet this... creation is a disruption, a harbinger of chaos.”

Jhulqira, reserved and graceful, raised his hand to speak, his eyes closed, his face tranquil. Lady Dreamweaver’s rich, refined voice bounced off the chamber walls, “Jhulqira...? You may speak.”

Lowering his hand, Jhulqira opened his eyes, focusing on the Archfey above, particularly the frantic Eladrin. “Yes, she is all of those things. I will not deny her unique features are... unsettling. But the purpose of this is not to instill fear into you, but into our enemies. If this scares you, good. I have done my job; I also cannot control your fear. To alleviate it, however, Angaria will spend most of her time in the Feydark underneath Rubellyn with me and my colleagues and will be deployed when necessary.”

Pausing, he glanced at Lady Dreamweaver, who nodded, allowing him to continue. “Angaria’s creation is unorthodox. But I assure you, she is a weapon forged for the sole purpose of protecting Rubellyn. Her ferocity is directed only towards the malevolent, those who seek to bring harm to our realm.”

Arkadius’s voice echoed, imposing and resonant, “Her power is undeniable, but can she maintain control, sanity, and discipline? I’d hate to see her lose herself to this... wrath you speak of.”

Angaria, who had been staring blankly and menacingly, glanced at Arkadius. Her expression remained unreadable, though beneath, she was attentive and the was a small semblance of acknowledgment for her wellbeing. Something that seems alien to her, nonetheless there was an appreciation there. The sudden pain that coursed through her spine like lightning sent waves of agony into her brain, punishing her for feeling anything but suffering. A nosebleed trickled as she abruptly broke eye contact, wiping the blood with the back of her hand, resuming her motionless stance as the pain continued to wrack her pulsating nerves.

Jhulqira replied, “Her loyalty is unwavering. She underwent prolonged mind-scraping, her synapses purged raw and conditioned. She is bound to the Axi company and Rubellyn. I have personally ensured her conditioning and indoctrination. She fights for us, not against us.”

Illaikus, still irritated, finally spoke his mind, “Your words do little to assuage my concerns, Jhulqira. She may be a weapon, but even the most finely crafted blade can turn in its wielder’s hand.”

Priallia, almost pleading, added, “This path we tread is dangerous. Angaria’s very existence challenges our values. We must be sure that such creations do not lead us down a darker road.”

The council of the seeley courts murmured amongst themselves, reluctant yet understanding the increasing invasions and catastrophes wrought against them.

A council member spoke, “We must weigh the potential benefits against our fears. If she can indeed protect us from the encroaching darkness, then perhaps her existence is a necessary evil.”

Another Eladrin councilor added, “But we must establish strict oversight. You must establish strict supervision. Her power must be monitored closely.”

Jhulqira nodded, bowing respectfully, a mockingly wide smirk hidden under his hood. “Agreed. I will ensure that Angaria remains under strict supervision. Her role is to safeguard Rubellyn, nothing more.”

Lady Dreamweaver concluded, “Very well. We shall permit her to remain, but with the utmost caution. Angaria ‘Red Scale’ Axia will be closely monitored. Her actions will determine if she truly is the praetorian Jhulqira claims her to be. Thy gods and allies all, will be watching. Prove their suspicion false.”

The council dispersed, their hearts heavy with lingering doubts and fears. Angaria’s presence left an indelible mark on the assembly, a reminder of the lengths to which they must go to protect their realm. As the hall emptied, Jhulqira and Angaria stood together, eyes fixed on the uncertain path ahead. Jhulqira let out a sigh, glancing up at Angaria, “Hm, that went well...” Angaria said nothing, her gaze unfaltering, still processing the immense pain of the implants within her. Jhulqira, only slightly surprised she didn’t turn to blind rage and lash out. Not that he wanted such a thing to happen, though the thought seemed amusing to him. He smiles at his own caliginous humor before signaling Angaria to follow him out of the assembly chamber. Little did the others know, Angaria was merely a gateway for further projects and augmentations. Angaria was a standard template for another breed of Axi warriors, this time a drow Axi with similar implants. The drow Axi will serve as Angaria’s Auxiliary, a stepping stone towards a Drow super-elven warrior he will soon introduce to Menzoberranzan under his family house’s name. However, this is saved for future plans. For now, Angaria will just have to earn the trust and respect of Rubellyn and her fellow Axi.

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wholesomefluffdaddy · 1 year ago

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Wednesday's new court mandated therapist is having her keep a journal of her thoughts and feelings. Wednesday finds this to be a complete waste of time and decides instead to use it to record her observations of her unusual roommate Enid Sinclair. Wednesday POV.

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Entry 23

Current Moon Phase: Third Quarter 🌗

Sure enough, Enid took several days to recover from being wolfed out for so long. She slept almost an entire 48 hours straight. Ushering her through the airport as well as on and off an airplane was most challenging. Her eyelids drooped and threatened to close constantly as if a great weight were pulling upon them.

Enid was excited to be back in our dorm and to see the decorations still hanging up. I informed her that I still wished to celebrate Yule with her but that there was no rush as her current wellbeing was of greater importance. She smiled appreciatively before pulling me into a fearsome embrace and dragging me back to her bed.

I do not know for how long I was trapped in the sleeping werewolf's clutches, only that I savored every minute of it. Despite being in her human form once again, many wolfish characteristics still lingered. Enid occasionally huffed or growled during her slumber. I was scented and rescented numerous times. Her fangs found my neck repeatedly as it soon became her new favorite chew toy. I must admit I suffered most favorably as she refused to relinquish me.

Once she finally awakened after having received adequate rest I began to retrieve her Yule gifts. Mother and Father had sent theirs along with a banquet's worth of food upon our return. At first I believed it to be rather excessive but upon seeing Enid's ravenous hunger I began to reconsider. Her appetite mirrored that as if she were still in her wolf form. I kept that in mind as I assume it also affected her diet, for Enid had made the remark in passing that she wished she could partake in hot chocolate. I made her atole as a substitute which she took much delight in.

After Enid had finished opening her gifts from the family I left to prepare my gift for her. She was perplexed at first but understood upon my return. My gift to Enid was that of me wearing certain attire from the Poe Cup. If I had thought Enid wolfish in nature before it was nothing compared to her when she laid her eyes on me as I reentered. Her pupils dilated significantly and she remained frozen where she sat. The intensity of her gaze was overpowering and I could not maintain eye contact.

I averted my eyes before striding over. Her nails shifted to claws but only partially. Her hands extended towards me and I understood. I sat upon her lap and wrapped my arms around her. Enid's body temperature was exceptionally high, as I could feel the heat radiating off of her in waves. I rested my head under her chin and my cheek against her chest. I babbled aimlessly about everything I admired about her. I felt her claws grip me tight. I felt her lips trail down my neck. I felt her heart thundering against her chest like an animal trying to escape its cage.

I was lifted so effortlessly before Enid slammed me up against the wall. I gasped at the ferocity with which she began to devour me. She claimed my mouth with her own and her claws raked down the thin fabric of the suit. Her hands quickly entered the slits she had created to explore the body of her prey. I knew death soon awaited me as her bare skin met my own.

Mi amor's bliss was overwhelming. I presume the family curse is to blame for I could not get enough of her ecstasy. Regrettably I shall have to return home to accept Father's offer of retrieving one of Great-Aunt Calpurnia's rings. I can no longer risk another claiming Enid's affections. If my life and death is to be so irrevocably tethered to hers then I wish for it to be bound in every other conceivable way as well.

I am filled with an excitement and dread I have never known before. With Enid's consent I shall bind myself to her will and forever be hers. I will have to thoroughly consult my mother's tomes to ensure the rituals are conducted with the highest degree of accuracy.

I shall have to record my thoughts at a later date as I make the necessary preparations.

Dear Diary,

I am still SUPER tired but I have to tell you everything! Okay, so once we got back to our dorm, which I forgot was still decorated (and like after a power nap), Wednesday starts pulling these presents out of nowhere! Babycakes was like some sort of magician (Or I mean I guess she's like a witch right? Or sorcerer? Or something? Like I know she's psychic but she's got all these like ritual/spell/magic books? Anyway!)

I guess her family, being as super sweet as they are, sent me gifts and like so much good food! 😭 I'm not crying! You're crying! Plus Willa made this one really good drink for me since I can't have hot chocolate. Everything was perfect but it somehow got even better? So Wednesday says she has to fetch her Yule gift for me. I was a little confused but then she comes back a couple minutes later - and do you know what she's wearing? 😳

She's wearing the cat suit from our first Poe Cup, ears and all! 😫💕 asdfghjkl! I swear I like blackout for a moment because the next thing I knew we were on my bed and wearing a lot less than I remember.

I know I already announced I was going to marry Wednesday after I became the Christmas Werewolf but like I'm going to marry this girl! 💕

OMG I can't even think straight! I have to buy Willa a ring but I can't let her know. I think I can do that next weekend when Willa goes back home to visit her family (I think she missed them over the holidays). I wonder what kind of ring I should get her? I mean, she probably wouldn't like anything too flashy but I also don't want to get anything too simple either. 😥 Also also - I don't exactly have a lot of money to spend on a ring 😭 I don't know what to do but I have to figure something out. Maybe I'll ask Yoko for help?

#ao3 fanfic #archive of our own #enid sinclair #wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #wednesday x enid #wenclair #wednesday is oblivious #wednesday is soft for enid #wholesomefluffdaddy

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justatouristhere · 1 year ago

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Hi everyone! First time following and sharing on a character week. Looking forward to all the art and stories!

Day 2 Warrior

My short fan fiction for @tamlinweek

~An Unexpected Encounter~

Tamlin crosses paths with Rhys for the first time while on a mission

Read on Ao3

Tamlin peered through the thicket trying to make out where for Cauldron’s sake he was. His sense of direction was usually impeccable but since he got to the Middle, something about the magic here felt off - made his senses go haywire. He kept low while stalking through the forest, shifting into his beast form, his senses sharpening as he did so. The first stars were already showing in the sky when he finally got a glimpse of what he was looking for and halted. He crouched low and surveyed his surroundings keenly. Soon all sorts of creatures would be prowling around in the dark. It was one particularly vicious one that he was after. Once again, he had been sent to do his father’s dirty work.

”I have a special mission for you and I expect you to keep this quiet,” his father had said when he had summoned him from the Spring Court borders where he was patrolling with his war band. “It has come to my attention, that there has been a breach at the Prison,” he continued. One of his spies had informed him that something had managed to break out of the highly guarded prison island. And it was making its way across Prythian. “Have you ever heard of the Weaver’s demon?” his father asked.

“I have heard the stories,” Tamlin said frowning. It was a dreadful being, its venom capable of overpowering even the most formidable of Fae, and it only obeyed one master. One that harboured resentment for the Fae that trapped her in her abode in the Middle. What would his father want with such a fearsome creature?

“Hybern’s General is due to visit soon,” his father added as if guessing his thoughts.

Amarantha. The very thought of that female made Tamlin’s skin crawl. He never understood why his father was so keen to make her an ally.

“She does so delight in taming a wild creature,” his father’s tone was laced with wicked amusement. Tamlin did not miss the insinuation, but ignored it. His father’s notion was not misplaced however. Amarantha was an avid collector of such monsters and had an array of creatures she used to torture her enemies with. His father took out a map and proceeded to show him the trail of the last sightings of the demon.

“It travels by night, hides by day," he said.

“I’ll get on it,” Tamlin had said, turning to go.

“Stay away from those fangs, they say the venom works faster than faebane,” his father had warned as he left the room.

Tamlin pushed the memory to the back of his mind; it wasn’t wise to let himself get distracted; he needed his wits about him. According to his father’s spies the demon had left a distinct trail and it was clearly making its way back to its master. Tamlin gazed at where the Weaver’s cottage stood in a small clearing of the wood. It looked almost ordinary. Gnarled trees grew so close at its back, they nearly formed a solid wall. Tamlin cast his look around for a good vantage point that afforded concealment and opted for a particularly thick assembly of shrubs to the south of the trail leading up to the cottage. He gave a low sigh. This was going to be a long night. ***

“What?”

“Shhhh…” Be quiet. Rhys shot a pointed look at Azriel who gave him a pained look in return.

It will never not freak me out to communicate with you like this.

Rhys grinned. A low growl like earth rumbling sounded in the woods and echoed off the side of the mountain. They both stood still for a moment, waiting. Nothing happened.

“This should be fun, just like old times,” Rhys said jokingly trying to lighten the mood.

Azriel gave a snort in reply.

They had been camped out in this forest for a couple of days now, lying in waiting, and had become increasingly restless. His father had sent them to retrieve the escaped creature and it was of the essence that they recaptured the Weaver’s demon before it got to its master. The Weaver may be contained to her cottage, but united with her demon she would have a weapon that could cause all sorts of strife to the Courts of Prythian. But this wearisome task wasn’t really what made them feel so on edge.

“Do you think they managed to restrain her by now?” Azriel whispered, sounding more fearful than Rhys had ever heard him before.

“I don’t know…” Rhys said, he was trying not to think about it.

The truth was that there had been an even greater breach at the Prison. One that the Night Court has gone to great lengths to conceal. A more cunning and dangerous captive had managed to escape. And had sprung the neighbouring cell containing the demon on their way out. Rhys had nearly fainted when he heard that Amren had gotten loose.

I need Azriel, his father’s voice growled in his mind, full of irritation.

We have not yet concluded our mission in the Middle Rhys answered.

Now, the order boomed in response.

“Az, you are needed back at the Night Court,” Rhys said, giving Azriel an apologetic look.

Azriel’s face paled but he didn’t hesitate as he stood immediately and shot to the sky. Rhys looked on as Azriel’s form grew smaller and then vanished from sight. It was their jurisdiction after all. The Prison. A monumental headache passed on through generations. Rhys sighed and settled his gaze back to the small clearing where the Weaver’s cottage lay. He and Azriel had chosen to find shelter in the trees, just off that clearing. Shrouded in shadows he was nearly invisible as the night grew thicker and the stars brighter. The forest seemed to come alive in the night, growls and snarls filling the air. Rhys occasionally got a glimpse of a pair of eyes between the trees. It was going to be a long night.

Tamlin heard it before he saw the creature. Not the demon itself but the silence that suddenly fell across the forest. The night was filled with sounds one moment and went completely still the next. As if everything living, including the trees and the shrubs, held their breath all at once. He strained his eyes looking for movement between the trees. Only moments later he saw it crawling on all fours, making its way towards the cottage, its skin smooth grey, nearly translucent, covering the eye sockets completely. He felt disgust twisting his stomach but didn’t stop to give it a thought. He leaped out of the shrubs and directly into the demon’s path.

Rhys spotted the demon creeping along the line of trees, but before he could make a move, a majestic beast crowned with antlers burst out of nowhere and stopped the demon in its tracks. It was massive, almost the size of a bear, with wolf-like features that were twisted in a menacing snarl. It had golden fur and gleaming emerald eyes that looked completely at odds with the dark grey forest that seemed devoid of all colour. For a moment Rhys stood frozen, watching enthralled as beast and demon leapt towards each other, colliding in midair and tumbling out of sight into the nearby thicket. Rhys finally shook himself from his stupor and sprang from the tree going after them, his shadows veiling him in darkness as he went.

Tamlin tumbled onto the forest floor; his grip still locked around the demon’s throat. The demon thrashed its legs and arms frantically, sharp talons drawing blood from Tamlin’s golden fur. Struggling to immobilise the creature, Tamlin reached for his earthly Spring Court power, but the response did not come from the ground, as if it were devoid of any spark of life. He strained with concentration and finally vines sprouted from the ground. But as soon as they appeared they grew ashen and crumbled to dust. Tamlin felt panic rise in his chest, just as a citrusy scent filled his nostrils that hadn’t been there a moment before. Even the demon seemed to pause its struggling for a heartbeat. Tamlin whipped his head around, two star flecked purple eyes meeting his. He started and snarled and his grip loosened for the smallest of seconds. That was all the demon needed, it seized its chance and slipped through Tamlin’s grasp, leaping for his neck with its long poisonous fangs. Tamlin growled and fought the hissing demon when black tendrils took hold around its neck and pulled it back. A blade flashed and a spray of blood landed across Tamlin’s face. He rolled away, shifting into his Fae form just as the demon, its head impaled by a long knife, dropped dead to the ground.

Tamlin braced his hands on his knees and stood panting, watching the raven-haired male now crouching over the dead demon. Night Court he thought. The male grabbed the hilt of the blade that was still stuck in the creature’s head and pulled. Clear liquid trickled down the shining metal and onto the ground. Tamlin had never seen a knife like that, its blade curved slightly and adorned with an intricate carving. The male turned his purple gaze on him in an assessing sweep.

“What were you trying to do?” he said, cocking his head onto one side.

“I was… trying to capture it,,” Tamlin answered with uncertainty.

“Capture it?” the male’s eyes widened in surprise “Whatever for?”.

Tamlin didn’t know what to answer, he didn’t know this male and didn’t want to give away any intel to another Court. “Just following orders,” he said finally.

The male frowned at that response, no doubt trying to figure out who in their right mind would want that demon alive and in their vicinity.

“Looks like that didn’t work out for you,” the male said thoughtfully.

“No, it did not,” Tamlin said grimly.

The male gave him a weak smile.

“I’m Rhys by the way,” he said.

Tamlin nodded and stood straighter. “Tamlin,” he said in response.

Rhys regarded the panting male standing in front of him, his long hair the same golden hue as the fur of his beast form. Shape-shifter. Spring Court. He felt intrigued by him. There was such frankness in those green eyes.

“We should probably cover our tracks,” Rhys said, pointing the Illyrian blade at the dead creature, before sheathing it at the bandolier on his chest.

“I can take care of that,” Tamlin replied, crouching next to the demon and touching his hand to the ground. Rhys took a step back as a large crack appeared in the ground, swallowing the demon in its dark abyss, then closed neatly back up.

“Impressive,” he said, smiling.

“Thank you,” Tamlin answered, smiling back nervously.

A hiss sounded from a nearby brush and they both whirled around, bracing themselves. Whatever it was it must have decided they weren't worth the risk, because it took off, the bushes rustling in its wake.

Tendrils of shadow started whirling around them and Tamlin backed away apprehensively.

“They won’t bite,” Rhys said in a teasing tone. “I’m just trying to make us less conspicuous"'.

“Are they, like, solid?” Tamlin asked, contemplating the tendrils that snaked around him.

“Oh, I can make them as solid or transparent as I like,” Rhys said and a tendril rose gently at the level of Tamlin’s arm, who tentatively raised his hand out to reach for it.

It felt like a silky breath at first and then took on a more solid feel, like a ribbon smoothly flowing over his hand, over some of the scratches the demon had left with its long talons. Tamlin flinched.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to… does that hurt? You should get cleaned up,” Rhys said.

“Yes,” Tamlin agreed, inspecting the blood and mud smears on his arms and chest, the gashes that were not quite healed. He had been so distracted he hadn’t even noticed.

“I should probably-,“ he started,

“There is a creek nearby, I can show you if you want,” Rhys interrupted. Tamlin looked at him surprised. “Just over there,” Rhys said, pointing to the East.

“I… uhm… sure, ok,” Tamlin said in an uncertain tone and they started walking in the direction Rhys had indicated. “Don’t you need to get back and report or something?” he asked.

“I’m not in a hurry,” Rhys shrugged.

Tamlin eyed Rhys thoughtfully. He felt wary of this male, but going back to his father seemed even less appealing at the moment. He gave a long sigh, “I suppose neither am I.”

With a sidelong look, Rhys patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. The first light of the day was breaking in the distance as they walked on, Rhys’ shadows shielding them both from lurking predators.

#acotar fan fiction #Tamlin #Tamlin&Rhys #TamlinWeek2024 #tamlin week 2024 #first time trying at fan fiction

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