#saphira bjarskülar

[lordcatwich]

Hmmm okay.

@littlebookworm69 @the-laws-of-physics-were-harmed @maesaliva @hhoneycloves @cinnamon-does-wacky-shit

Ripley would be on here but I want for options to be here

:3

5 Favourite Characters Poll (Tag Game)

I was tag by: @star-mum

Rules: make a poll with five of your all time favourite characters and then tag five people to do the same. See which character is everyone's favourite.

Thanks you so much for the tag

Tags <3: @meeks-beas @practically-an-x-man @outer-space-face @trashworldblog @mydearlybeloathed

[panic-based-riot]

Gilded Chapter 1

Fandom: Inheritance Cycle

Pairing: Murtagh x OC, Eragon x OC, love triangle

Warnings: None

Ilirea tightened the blue scarf around her white blonde hair, tugging the sides to make sure they were snug. A small sigh passed her lips. Thankfully it was still in place. The men, or rather boys, who had been tugging at it were currently still on the streets, being scolded by their fathers on how to properly treat a woman. Slipping further away, between two houses, she turned and made her way past the edge of the village.

Ceris was small, situated at the eastern edge of Du Weldenvarden, the forest that housed the elves and their cities. The houses were small, only a single road running from the forest to the outer edge of the village. The houses seemed to grow right from the ground, as all did in the forest. Only here, on the outskirts of the forest, were humans allowed to dwell. But that didn’t stop Ilirea from wanting to see more of it. No matter how many times her mother had warned her, even on her deathbed. As the distance between Ceris and herself increased, Ilirea reached up and tugged the scarf from her head. Her straight hair tumbled in a silvery wave down her back, and the tips of her ears poked through. Not as prominent or sharp as any elf, but not the rounded ears of anyone else in her village.

Her mother had told her stories of her father when she was young. An elf from deep within the forest, who had met her mother while she was out harvesting berries from the forest. When she was almost killed by his companion who mistook her for a trespasser, her father had saved her mother’s life. And so, knowing how the Elves valued plants and their fruits, her mother offered her harvest, and to never take from the plants again. Her father had refused the offer, and asked instead for a warm meal and a bed for the night. Ilirea scoffed as she wandered through the trees. He had gotten a little more than that.

Kicking a small stone in her path, Ilirea sighed, and let out a soft curse. If her father were still alive, she wished he would come for her. Hiding her ears was easy enough, but her thin angular face and slanted eyes were another thing altogether. At least the trees did not judge nor mock her, and if they did it was only in the language of rustling leaves. The forest seemed to speak to her, to the soft music that whispered in her mind and the traces of elf magic in her veins. And so it called to her, beckoning.

With a sad breath, she sat at the base of a tree, closing her eyes briefly. She leaned her head back, her hands brushing the ground absentmindedly. They froze as she ran across something smooth and hard. Her fingers ghosted back across the surface under her fingers. She turned to look at the ground, and saw a bright yellow object, mostly obscured by dirt and small plants. She knelt, brushing the dirt away with both hands, pulling out the small plants that had rooted in the shallow soil. When enough of the object was cleared, she started gently pushing on it, rocking it back and forth to loosen it.

Slowly the dirt around it gave way and she slid her fingers into the crevice she had made next to the large object which she now suspected was some kind of jewel or precious stone. Pulling, Ilirea tugged it out of the dirt, nearly falling backwards with the effort. She picked it up, running her hands over it to brush off the dirt, and her almond shaped eyes widened. She had heard stories about the object she now held in her hands and had watched often from under the trees as the hero Rider Eragon had flown over on the beautiful blue dragon Saphira. They were undoubtedly working to restore the nation after they had freed them from the tyranny of Galbatorix. She also on occasion saw the elf queen Rider Arya and her emerald dragon Fírnen flying in the distance over Du Weldenvarden. But never in her 20 years had she imagined that she would hold this in her hands.

“A dragon’s egg…” Her voice came out as a whisper, and almost in response the egg thrummed lightly. Ilirea laughed softly, and stood, cradling the egg as gently as she would a newborn baby. Reaching down, she set it gently on the forest floor, then lifted the side of her top skirt. Pulling it through her skirt hike, she looped it up high, creating a small pouch-like area where she could easily carry the egg without others seeing it. She picked it up and gently deposited it into the new pocket she had just made. It settled in gently, thrumming softly against her thigh.

Ilirea gently made her way through the forest and back to the town, keeping one hand on the egg in her skirts. Just outside of the town she paused, wrapping her blue scarf back around her head and tied it on to hide her pointed ears. Satisfied she had hidden them well, she headed into town. Inside the gates, she waved hello to friends, but politely made her way straight home. Once she reached the one room house on the far side of the village, she closed and bolted the door behind her. Settling in the center of the room, she pulled out the yellow egg, running her hands over the smooth, cool surface. It felt warm and alive, and carried the scent of the forest. Dirt crumbled away as she cleaned it, speaking as she did so.

“The proper thing to do would be to find a way to get you to Queen Arya or Queen Nasuada. That way they could get you to Rider Eragon.” The egg thrummed again, deeper than before, as if displeased with the notion. “I don’t want to do that either.” For some reason, she didn’t want to part with it although she knew the chances of it hatching for her were slim. Soon the beautiful yellow egg was clean, and Ilirea caressed it gently. For her to have such a treasure in her hands...she was unworthy. She quickly placed the egg on the solid wooden floor and stood.

“Well, I don’t really know what a dragon egg needs…” Ilirea looked around and gathered some spare blankets from a chest in the corner of the room, and folded them together to make a nest of sorts. Pushing them together, she sighed, and reached into the back of her mind. The elven blood in her veins had gifted her with magic, though her mother had forbidden her use of it. Pushing through the barrier, she whispered one of the few words she knew. “Verma.” Energy flowed out of her, and the blankets in her arms grew warm, heated just enough to be comfortable.

Ilirea set them on the ground, resting herself next to them, breathing slightly harder from the effort. A moment passed and when she trusted her arms enough, she picked up the egg and set it in the now-warm nest of blankets. As she held it, she felt it thrum again and energy flowed from it, strengthening her after her spell. She quickly released it, breaking the connection and she pulled her hands close to her chest.

“Thank you, but I don’t deserve your magic.” The egg thrummed so low that it seemed to growl at her, and she sighed. “I shouldn’t even exist. But hopefully that will be enough to keep you comfortable, at least for the night.” Glancing around the small home, Ilirea stood. “Tomorrow, we leave. I have to take you to Queen Nasuada. She’ll give you to Rider Eragon.” She paused, “He will know what to do.” At that, the egg thrummed a discordant, unhappy pitch, then fell silent. Ilirea sighed and changed into her night clothes, collapsing on her small bed, and soon sleep overtook her.

Part 1/??

Taglist: @raiikuiii @gilded-moon @thebluemoonwolf @overlordspirit18 @nightsshadow1

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 

[panic-based-riot]

Gilded Chapter 2

Fandom: Inheritance Cycle 

Paring: Murtagh x OC, Eragon x OC, Love Triangle 

Warnings: None

Part 2/??

Ilirea woke to the sound of distressed chirping. She sat up on her bed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she looked around her home, searching for the high pitched sound. As it grew louder and more upset Ilirea turned her gaze to the small nest of blankets that held the egg. Or rather, used to hold the egg. In its place now sat a tiny dragon, chirping as it tried in vain to get a fragment of shell off its head. Moving slowly so as not to startle the small creature, Ilirea crawled over to it and gently grabbed the fragment. She smiled as she lifted  it off the baby dragon’s head. The chirping stopped, and it tilted its head to gaze at her curiously. 

A single happy chirp came from the creature, and Ilirea couldn’t help but stare in wonder. The tiny dragon was a brilliant yellow from head to tail, the underside of it a deep amber. As she stared, the dragon stared back, tilting its head as if trying to understand her. Then it reached out with its head, and she scrambled backwards. 

“No, you can’t bond with me. I’m taking you to the Queen.” 

The dragon chirped again, and lunged forward even as Ilirea lifted her hands to keep it away. The tip of the yellow nose hit her right palm and a white hot sensation ran up her arm, burning into her mind. She gasped as a bright silver light shone at the point of contact and something made contact with her mind, something powerful and ancient. 

The light faded, except for a dull glow from the oval shaped irregular patch of silver now in the center of Ilirea’s palm. She closed her hand around it and pulled back, staring in awe at the dragon as she trembled. 

Hungry

The thought, more of a feeling, drifted across her mind and she flinched. She didn’t want to be a dragon rider. She wasn’t supposed to be anything extraordinary at all, just a mistake in a small town. 

“Why? Why did you choose me?” 

She stared at the dragon, expecting an answer, but all that came was the sensation of hunger. She stood, still trembling, and moved to her small kitchen to grab the few scraps of meat that she had. She placed them on the floor by the dragon and it ate them quickly. 

A sense of gratitude flowed over Ilirea, and she sat back down on her bed, staring at the tiny yellow dragon. It chirped, looking back, and she sighed. “Well, now we definitely have to get to the queen. But how am I supposed to get you out of here? I can't just walk through town with a baby dragon on my shoulder.” 

The tiny thing wandered over to where her skirts from the day lay in a heap and it nosed at it before climbing into the pocket that she had carried the egg home in. It curled into it and let out a soft sound almost like purring. 

“Well, I guess that works.” 

Sparing a glance out the window, Ilirea gazed at the night outside. “I need to sleep more, we leave in the morning.” She lay down and curled into a ball, and the tiny dragon poked its head out of her skirts. It chirped twice, then skittered over the wood floor towards her and hopped up onto the small bed. While humming the same pitch the egg had earlier that day, the small creature circled twice before settling in the space next to her stomach. It purred and rested its head on its forelegs and the two fell asleep. 

Morning came with soft rays of warm sunshine as the sunlight fell on Ilirea’s face. The sound of soft chirping reached her as she opened her eyes and she saw the tiny dragon standing on her pillow, chirping. 

Hungry. Go, travel? 

The impressions of a rumbling tummy and trees passing overhead pulled Ilirea out of her bed. “Alright, let me get dressed.”

She quickly pulled on a new overdress and stays, tightened them, and looped her overskirt through her skirt hike again. From the same belt she also hung a small pouch of coins and a silver leaf-bladed dagger in its gold-tipped sheath, the only inheritance from the father she had never known. The tiny dragon half jumped, half flew over to where Ilirea stood, and it chirped thrice. With a smile, Ilirea bent over and scooped up the small creature and placed it into the pocket she had created. 

It poked its tiny head out, watching as Ilirea wandered around the house gathering things into a pack at the center of the room. She placed a blanket, a spare skirt, and a pair of tight trousers into it along with a hairbrush. She gathered up the blanket that the dragon had hatched in and tossed the yellow shell fragments into the fireplace, hoping to hide them. She wandered about the house a few more minutes before she gathered up the pack and looked down at the tiny dragon. 

“Well, are you ready?” 

The dragon seemed to smile and a sense of eagerness flowed through Ilirea’s mind.

 She smiled in return, “Alright then.” She reached for the door handle, but paused. All she’d ever known was this house and this village. Beyond that everything was unknown. She glanced down at the tiny dragon, now curled around itself in her pocket, and let out a sharp breath. 

The door opened to a quiet street, only a few people milled about as she closed the door to her home for the last time. Ilirea brushed her white blonde hair out of her eyes and froze as her fingers danced over the pointed tips of her ears. She quickly pulled her hair back down to cover it and moved as quickly as she could to the market. 

Along the way she smiled at a few friends, people she had known her whole life, and waved as if it were another regular day. At the market she bought a few strips of dried meat, three loaves of bread, and a new scarf, in case she were to encounter another village along her travels. As she was leaving, she passed a small stand that sold maps. 

The gentleman selling them smiled, the long scar on his balding head shining, “You seem to be off on a journey, surely you need a map to guide you?” 

Ilirea hesitated, then purchased a map of Alagaesia, stuffing it into her pack. “Thank you, sir. I’ve not seen you around this market before, may I inquire after your name?” 

He laughed, “You may, but I fear it will garner you no answers. You may call me simply Longshanks.” 

She smiled, “Well I thank you kindly, Master Longshanks. This will be helpful in my travels.” She lifted her hand in farewell, and the mapmaker’s smile fell. He reached out and gripped her wrist, tugging her forward. 

He turned her hand to show the silver brand on her palm, and Ilirea felt the tiny dragon stir in her pocket. 

“You would do well to hide this, Elf-child Dragon Rider. There are many who would take less than kindly to you walking brazenly in their midst.” 

Ilirea pulled her hand back, closing a fist around the mark and reached up with her other hand to make sure her pointed ears were still covered. “How did you-”

“The gedwëy ignasia is the most telling sign of a rider, young one. Hide it, and hide it well until you reach your destination.” Longshanks smiled.

“Thank you. I will. How do you know so much?” Ilirea nodded.

Longshanks simply winked and leaned back in his chair, speaking no more. Ilirea waited a moment, and when it became apparent that the merchant would share no more, she left, keeping her right hand close to her, hiding the Gedwëy Ignasia. She walked quickly through town into the dense green forest she knew so well and stopped only when she was far enough away to not be heard. 

Once she was deep into the forest, she knelt and lifted the tiny dragon from her pocket. She also unshouldered her pack, dropping a few of the meat strips on the ground for the dragon. She unrolled the map, looking over it. She had never been more grateful that her mother saw fit to teach her to read. The dragon gulped down the last of the meat strips and placed its front paws on the map, looking at it with Ilirea. 

“Ok, the capitol is here,” She placed a finger on Ilirea, the newly renamed capitol that shared her name, formerly Uru'Baen,  “all the way across the desert. But if we go this way,” She traced a finger along the edge of Du Weldenvarden and down through Lake Isentar and the Ramir River. “Then we can avoid the desert, and most cities except for Bullridge, until we get to Ilirea.” 

The dragon hummed, and Ilirea looked down at it, “I don’t know how fast you grow, but this is going to be a long trip. I’m talking months, so I hope you know how to hunt already. I can't buy us both food for that long.” The dragon looked up at her, its golden eyes blinking, and Ilirea sighed. 

“I suppose I should also give you a name. But I don’t know if you are a boy or a girl.” She looked at the slender dragon and mentally compared it to the other dragon’s she had seen. It seemed to fit the proportions of Saphira more than Firnen, at least from what she had seen from them both flying overhead, for Firnen was far stockier. “Are you a girl?” The dragon hummed excitedly, twitching its, or rather her, tail. 

Ilirea studied the tiny dragon, looking over her pretty yellow and amber scales. “What about Amber?” The tiny dragon snorted, looking almost affronted at the thought. “Ok, well…” She trailed off, thinking of an old word in an old human language that her mother had taught her. 

“Do you like Halcyon? It means golden.”

She flapped her wings and crowed, nudging Ilirea. 

“Ok, Halcyon it is then.'' She rolled up the map, placing it back in her pack, and shouldered it. She also grabbed a large handful of moist soil and rubbed it into her right palm, concealing her Gedwëy Ignasia. As she stood she held out an arm for Halcyon and she raced up Ilirea’s arm, sitting on her shoulder. She nuzzled her face, humming, and settled as Ilirea started walking away from Ceris, deeper into the forest.

Taglist:  @raiikuiii @gilded-moon @thebluemoonwolf @overlordspirit18 @nightsshadow1