#sapling char

[nansmenagerie]

Hubris in the ancient city Paper clips and feeling pretty

[ramuelisms]

Vi Gets Trolled

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

Thinking about Dean's motif of corruption. "The very touch of you corrupts". Heaven, and Dean himself, see this corruption as rot. Hellfire. Moral decay, and, inevitably, destruction.

However, "corruption" can have other meanings, especially when defined by spn's (or most modern versions of) Heaven. "The very touch of you corrupts" when Cas first touched Dean, something took root. Dean's love, his protectiveness, the rugged life he was more or less forced into, his stubborn insistence, against all odds and in all circumstances, to prioritize family, food, hearth, a safe place to sleep and a planet that won't fall apart on him. Those roots spread- but not in any evil sense.

Tree roots.

Strong and unrelenting and vibrantly green, fed on tears, soil, blood, ash and salt, and on red meat and love. Wriggling through the cracks in Cas' celestial being, curling around the divine light and leaving rich earth behind it. Is it corruption? Is it decay? Yes. But nothing, angel or demon or antichrist or anything else, that Dean touches can help but become a creature of Earth. Most humans don't notice, humans are already Earthly beings, and most monsters are as well. Angels though?

Heaven and Hell are two sides of the same coin. The opposite of both is Earth- Earth with no care given to an afterlife, kindness and love existing for its own sake, no hypotheticals. Dirt, rot, messiness, food, hunger, tiredness, laughter, love.

and that scares the SHIT out of Heaven

they've seen angels fall, either living as humans or truly Falling, their grace charred and covered by hellfire

they've never seen one turn into a physical being before. even an angel reborn as a human is still an angel. Cas isn't becoming human. He's still an angel, but-

if the other angels can see the roots piercing through his true form, churning through grace like a sapling in new soil

what other word would they have but "corruption"?

(obligatory SAM IS NOT EXCEMPT FROM THIS. HE'S ALSO WEIRD THIS WAY follow-up bc yall will just hate Sam for no reason istg)

[savagewildnerness]

Anyone gonna do Lestat’s dance to this one?  At one point I even made a rhythm with my foot LOLOLOL

"”Come on," I said suddenly. "Get your violin, and we'll go off somewhere in the woods where the music won't wake up anybody. We'll see if there isn't some goodness in it."

"You're a madman!" he said. But he grabbed the unopened bottle by the neck and headed for the door immediately.

I was right behind him.

When he came out of his house with the violin, he said:

"Let's go to the witches' place! Look, it's a half moon. Plenty of light. We'll do the devil's dance and play for the spirits of the witches."

I laughed. I had to be drunk to go along with that. "We'll reconsecrate the spot," I insisted, "with good and pure music."

It had been years and years since I'd walked in the witches' place.

The moon was bright enough, as he'd said, to see the charred stakes in their grim circle and the ground in which nothing ever grew even one hundred years after the burnings. The new saplings of the forest kept their distance. And so the wind struck the clearing, and above, clinging to the rocky slope, the village hovered in darkness.

A faint chill passed over me, but it was the mere shadow of the anguish I'd felt as a child when I'd heard those awful words "roasted alive," when I had imagined the suffering.

Nicki's white lace shoes shone in the pale light, and he struck up a gypsy song at once and danced round in a circle as he played it.

I sat on a broad burned stump of tree and drank from the bottle. And the heartbreaking feeling came as it always did with the music. What sin was there, I thought, except to live out my life in this awful place? And pretty soon I was silently and unobtrusively crying.

Though it seemed the music had never stopped, Nicki was comforting me. We sat side by side and he told me that the world was full of inequities and that we were prisoners, he and I, of this awful corner of France, and someday we would break out of it. 

And I thought of my mother in the castle high up the mountain, and the sadness numbed me until I couldn't bear it, and Nicki started playing again, telling me to dance and to forget everything.

Yes, that's what it could make you do, I wanted to say. Is that sin? How can it be evil? I went after him as he danced in a circle. The notes seemed to be flying up and out of the violin as if they were made of gold. I could almost see them flashing. I danced round and round him now and he sawed away into a deeper and more frenzied music. I spread the wings of the fur lined cape and threw back my head to look at the moon. The music rose all around me like smoke, and the witches' place was no more. There was only the sky above arching down to the mountains.

We were closer for all this in the days that followed.”

[circadeacademia]

Cover letter for a dystopian future

Dear humanity,

We are voracious troops of an unhinged species. Our 24k gluttony-plated soul thrives in leftovers of brutality. We burn cities and everything in between, the incense of charred carcasses finds its way home or whatever is left of it.

Withering flowers under undead debris, their plea never reaches the surface.

We set the stage with artillery smoke, and our footprints trail in shades of scarlet — call it a gesture of uprooted civility!

The young saplings who knew no sky, the raining shells have buried them alive. We wouldn't know if they slept through the lullaby. Yet, we spit poison to earth's bosoms, for the seeds in winter, for the birds on ground.

Oh humanity! what power do you hold in this playground of malignancy? we pierce, we gnaw, we savour, we devour! but your finite eyes can't reach the mouth.

for you, there's always matcha in day, war at night. Do you ever choke on a powerless sip? When there's a mirror on your face, dead offspring at your feet? Have you breathed air heavier than lead?

like a poet would say, “if there's hell in my world, all martyrs would've survived..”

We, the predators of a dystopian world, have built our nest with slaughtered skin and vines of gut. We feed on your fear, we feed on your rage. And the echoes of your weaponized paper — save them for when your bubble becomes cage, save them when your sky tumbles down.

Sincerely,

The breached souls of failed humanity

What justice do we seek as we continue to fail as humans? How long does the genocide trail go as we outstretch the bloody claws of history into a terrifying dystopia?

— circadeacademia

[rwby-encrusted-blog]

Zhe weapon name idea: CalmBlossom (like StormFlower). Eren weapon name idea: Modhild (like Magnhild, named after Thor's sons Magni and Modi).

Those are both good, but I've decided upon Resting Ember.

Resting being opposite of Storming

Ember being Parallel to Blossom; Both are small, the beginnings of something larger, and while a Blossom evokes something beautiful and lively, we can create multiple interpretations of their futures.

A Blossom may grow into a beautiful flower; it may be an invasive species! Maybe it's toxic to most animals, maybe it will crack and crawl through ancient stone and wall, or raise the pavement or wreck the asphalt

An ember may be the beginning, middle, or end of a flame: If it is the end, it comes from something charred, burned, gone. Or it could be the beginning of rebirth, and regrowth; a wildfire that burns the trees so the young sapling may grow and sprout with fresh soil; or perhaps it's the beginning of a Campfire, or a Kiln or Forge! Something to create and give life and warmth to others with!

Something that Storms, something that Sleeps.

Both small, innocuous images of something larger; perhaps destructive, perhaps creative; we will only learn as they are nutured and grown.

[warriors-rewritten-chaos]

Warrior Cats Prefixes- S

I had a WC Name Generator on Perchance that I made but I don't seem to have access anymore, so I'm remaking it here as just a simple list. The definitions used are the ones that Clan cats have for those things, and thus are the origins of the names. Definitions used are whatever I found when I googled it.

Sable-: "[noun] a marten with a short tail and dark brown fur"

Saffron-: "[noun] an autumn-flowering crocus with reddish-purple flowers, native to warmer regions of Eurasia"

Sage-: "[noun] an aromatic plant with grayish-green leaves that are used as a culinary herb, native to southern Europe and the Mediterranean"

Salamander-: "[noun] a lizard-like amphibian with an elongated body and tail and short limbs"

Salmon-: "[noun] a large edible fish that is a popular game fish, much prized for its pink flesh. Salmon mature in the sea but migrate to freshwater streams to spawn"

Salt-: "[noun] a white crystalline substance that gives seawater its characteristic taste"

Sand-: "[noun] a loose granular substance, typically pale yellowish brown, resulting from the erosion of siliceous and other rocks and forming a major constituent of beaches, riverbeds, the seabed, and deserts"

Sandy-: "[adj] light yellowish brown, resembling sand"

Sap-: "[noun] the fluid, chiefly water with dissolved sugars and mineral salts, that circulates in the vascular system of a plant"

Sapling-: "[noun] a young tree, especially one with a slender trunk"

Sapphire-: "[noun] a transparent precious stone, typically blue in color"

Scale-: "[noun] each of the small, thin horny or bony plates protecting the skin of fish and reptiles, typically overlapping one another"

Scarlet: "[adj] of a brilliant red color; [noun] a brilliant red color"

Scorch-: "[noun] the burning or charring of the surface of something; [verb] burn the surface of (something) with flame or heat"

Scorched-: "[adj] burned by flames or heat"

Scruffy-: "[adj] (of hair or fur) unkempt, untidy, shaggy"

Sedge-: "[noun] a grasslike plant with triangular stems and inconspicuous flowers, growing typically in wet ground"

Seed-: "[noun] a flowering plant's unit of reproduction, capable of developing into another such plant"

Serval-: "[noun] a slender African wildcat with long legs, large ears, and a black-spotted orange-brown coat"

Shade-: "[noun] comparative darkness and coolness caused by shelter from direct sunlight"

Shadow-: "[noun] a dark area or shape produced by a body coming between rays of light and a surface"

Shale-: "[noun] soft, finely stratified sedimentary rock that formed from consolidated mud or clay and can be split easily into fragile slabs"

Shallow-: "[noun] an area of the sea, a lake, or a river where the water is not very deep"

Shard-: "[noun] a piece of broken rock, typically having sharp edges"

Sharp-: "[adj] (of an object) having an edge or point that is able to cut or pierce something"

Shatter-: "[noun] break or cause to break suddenly and violently into pieces"

Shattered-: "[adj] broken into many pieces"

Sheep-: "[noun] a domesticated ruminant animal with a thick woolly coat and (typically only in the male) curving horns. It is kept in flocks for its wool or meat, and is proverbial for its tendency to follow others in the flock"

Shell-: "[noun] the hard protective outer case of a mollusk or crustacean"

Shimmer-: "[verb] shine with a soft tremulous light; [noun] a soft, slightly wavering light"

Shining-: "[adj] giving out or reflecting bright light"

Shiver-: "[verb] (of a person or animal) shake slightly and uncontrollably as a result of being cold, frightened, or excited; [noun] a momentary trembling movement"

Shore-: "[noun] he land along the edge of a sea, lake, or other large body of water"

Short-: "[adj] measuring a small distance from end to end"

Shower-: "[noun] a brief and usually light fall of rain, hail, sleet, or snow"

Shrew-: "[noun] a small insectivorous mammal resembling a mouse, with a long pointed snout and tiny eyes"

Shrike-: "[noun] a songbird with a strong sharply hooked bill, often impaling its prey of small birds, lizards, and insects on thorns"

Shrub-: "[noun] a woody plant which is smaller than a tree and has several main stems arising at or near the ground"

Shy-: "[adj] being reserved or having or showing nervousness or timidity in the company of other people"

Silent-: "[adj] not making or accompanied by any sound; [adj] (of a cat) not speaking"

Silk-: "[noun] a fine, strong, soft lustrous fibre produced by silkworms in making cocoons and collected to make thread and fabric. Silk is also spun by some insect larvae and by most spiders"

Silkworm-: "[noun] the commercially bred caterpillar of the domesticated silkworm moth (Bombyx mori), which spins a silk cocoon that is processed to yield silk fiber; [noun] a commercial silk-yielding caterpillar of a saturniid moth"

Silt-: "[noun] fine sand, clay, or other material carried by running water and deposited as a sediment"

Silver-: "[noun] a precious shiny grayish-white metal; [noun] shiny gray-white color or appearance like that of silver; [adj] made of or colored like silver"

Singed-: "[adj] slightly burnt or scorched"

Singing-: "[noun] the activity of performing songs or tunes by making musical sounds with the voice; [noun] melodious whistling and twittering sounds made by a bird or birds"

Siren-: "[noun] an aquatic species of salamander with a stout, eel-like body"

Skunk-: "[noun] a cat-sized American mammal of the weasel family, with distinctive black-and-white striped fur"

Sky-: "[noun] the region of the atmosphere and outer space seen from the earth"

Skylark-: "[noun] a common Eurasian and North African lark of farmland and open country, noted for its prolongedsong during hovering flight"

Slate-: "[noun] a fine-grained gray, green, or bluish metamorphic rock easily split into smooth, flat pieces"

Sleek-: "[adj] (of fur) smooth and glossy; [adj] sinewy or lithe"

Sleepy-: "[adj] needing or ready for sleep, tired"

Sleet-: "[noun] a form of precipitation consisting of ice pellets, often mixed with rain or snow"

Sleepy-: "[adj] needing or ready for sleep"

Sloe-: "[noun] another name for the blackthorn plant; [noun] the small bluish-black fruit of the blackthorn, with a sharp sour taste"

Slug-: "[noun] a tough-skinned terrestrial mollusk which typically lacks a shell and secretes a film of mucus for protection"

Slumber-: "[verb] sleep; [noun] a sleep"

Slumbering-: "[verb] sleep"

Slush-: "[noun] partially melted snow or ice"

Small-: "[adj] of a size that is less than normal or usual"

Smoke-: "[noun] a visible suspension of carbon or other particles in air, typically one emitted from a burning substance"

Smoky-: "[adj] having the characteristics of or resembling smoke; [adj] made dark or black by or as if by smoke"

Smudge-: "[noun] a blurred or smeared mark on the surface of something"

Snail-: "[noun] a mollusk with a single spiral shell into which the whole body can be withdrawn"

Snake-: "[noun] long limbless reptile which has no eyelids, a short tail, and jaws that are capable of considerable extension. Some snakes have a venomous bite"

Snap-: "[verb] break or cause to break suddenly and completely, typically with a sharp cracking sound; [verb] (of an animal) make a sudden audible bite; [noun] a sudden, sharp cracking sound or movement"

Snapdragon-: "[noun] a plant of the figwort family, bearing spikes of brightly colored two-lobed flowers that gape like a mouth when a bee lands on the curved lip"

Snow-: "[noun] atmospheric water vapor frozen into ice crystals and falling in light white flakes or lying on the ground as a white layer"

Snowdrop-: "[noun] a widely cultivated bulbous European plant that bears drooping white flowers during the late winter"

Snowflake-: "[noun] a flake of snow, especially a feathery ice crystal"

Snowy-: "[adj] covered with snow; [adj] (of weather or a period of time) characterized by snowfall; [adj] of or like snow, especially in being pure white"

Soaring-: "[adj] flying or rising high in the air"

Soft-: "[adj] smooth or delicate in texture, grain, or fiber; [adj] marked by a gentleness, kindness, or tenderness"

Song-: "[noun] a short poem or other set of words set to music or meant to be sung; [noun] singing or vocal music"

Soot-: "[noun] a black powdery or flaky substance consisting largely of amorphous carbon, produced by the incomplete burning of organic matter"

Sorrel-: "[noun] a European plant of the dock family, with arrow-shaped leaves"

Sorrow-: "[noun] a feeling of deep distress caused by loss, disappointment, or other misfortune suffered by oneself or others; feel or display deep distress"

Sow-: "[noun] a female pig"

Spark-: "[noun] a small fiery particle thrown off from a fire, alight in ashes, or produced by striking together two hard surfaces such as stone or metal"

Sparrow-: "[noun] a small Old World bird related to the weaverbirds, typically with brown and gray plumage"

Speckle-: "[noun] a small spot or patch of color; [adj] mark with a large number of small spots or patches of color"

Speckled-: "[adj] covered or marked with a large number of small spots or patches of color"

Spider-: "[noun] an eight-legged predatory arachnid with an unsegmented body consisting of a fused head and thorax and a rounded abdomen. Spiders have fangs that inject venom into their prey, and most kinds spin webs in which to capture insects"

Spike-: "[noun] a thin, pointed piece of fur, wood, or another rigid material"

Spindle-: "[noun] a species of flowering plant in the family Celastraceae, native to much of Europe, where it inhabits the edges of forest, hedges and gentle slopes, tending to thrive on nutrient-rich, chalky and salt-poor soils"

Spiral-: "[adj] winding in a continuous and gradually widening (or tightening) curve, either around a central point on a flat plane or about an axis so as to form a cone; [noun] a spiral curve, shape, or pattern"

Spire-: "[noun] the continuation of a tree trunk above the point where branching begins, especially in a tree of a tapering form"

Splash-: "[noun] a sound made by something striking or falling into liquid; [verb] cause (liquid) to strike or fall on something in irregular drops"

Splinter-: "[noun] a small, thin, sharp piece of wood or similar material broken off from a larger piece; [verb] break or cause to break into small sharp fragments"

Spore-: "[noun] a minute, typically one-celled, reproductive unit capable of giving rise to a new individual without sexual fusion, characteristic of lower plants, fungi, and protozoans"

Spot-: "[noun] a small round or roundish mark, differing in color or texture from the surface around it"

Spotted-: "[adj] marked or decorated with spots"

Sprig-: "[noun] a small stem bearing leaves or flowers, taken from a bush or plant"

Spruce-: "[noun] a widespread coniferous tree which has a distinctive conical shape and hanging cones"

Squall-: "[noun] a sudden violent gust of wind or a localized storm, especially one bringing rain, snow, or sleet"

Squirrel-: "[noun] an agile tree-dwelling rodent with a bushy tail, typically feeding on nuts and seeds"

Stag-: "[noun] a male deer"

Starling-: "[noun] a gregarious Old World songbird with a straight bill, typically with dark lustrous or iridescent plumage but sometimes brightly colored"

Steam-: "[noun] the vapor into which water is converted when heated, forming a white mist of minute water droplets in the air"

Stem-: "[noun] the main body or stalk of a plant or shrub, typically rising above ground but occasionally subterranean"

Stick-: "[noun] a thin piece of wood that has fallen or been cut from a tree"

Stoat-: "[noun] a small carnivorous mammal of the weasel family which has chestnut fur with white underparts and a black-tipped tail"

Stone-: "[noun] hard solid nonmetallic mineral matter of which rock is made"

Stork-: "[noun] a tall long-legged wading bird with a long heavy bill and typically with white and black plumage"

Storm-: "[noun] a violent disturbance of the atmosphere with strong winds and usually rain, thunder, lightning, or snow"

Stormy-: "[adj] (of weather) characterized by strong winds and usually rain, thunder, lightning, or snow"

Straw-: "[noun] dried stalks of grain, used especially as fodder or as material for thatching, packing, or weaving"

Strawberry-: "[noun] a sweet soft red fruit with a seed-studded surface; [noun] the low-growing plant which produces the strawberry, having white flowers, lobed leaves, and runners, and found throughout north temperate regions"

Streak-: "[noun] a long, thin line or mark of a different substance or color from its surroundings; [verb] move very fast in a specified direction"

Stream-: "[noun] a small, narrow river"

Strike-: "[verb] hit forcibly and deliberately with one's paw, fangs, or claws"

Stripe-: "[noun] a long narrow band or strip, typically of the same width throughout its length, differing in color or texture from the surface on either side of it"

Striped-: "[adj] marked with or having stripes"

Stump-: "[noun] the bottom part of a tree left projecting from the ground after most of the trunk has fallen or been cut down"

Sugar-: "[noun] a sweet crystalline substance obtained from various plants, especially sugar cane and sugar beet"

Sun-: "[noun] the star around which the earth orbits; [noun] the light or warmth received from the earth's sun"

Sundew-: "[noun] a small carnivorous plant of boggy places, with rosettes of leaves that bear sticky glandular hairs. These trap insects, which are then digested"

Sunflower-: "[noun] a tall North American plant of the daisy family, with very large golden-rayed flowers"

Sunny-: "[adj] bright with sunlight; [adj] (of a person or their temperament) cheery and bright"

Sunset-: "[noun] he time in the evening when the sun disappears or daylight fades"

Sunshine-: "[noun] direct sunlight unbroken by clouds, especially over a comparatively large area"

Swallow-: "[noun] any of numerous small widely distributed oscine birds (family Hirundinidae, the swallow family) that have a short bill, long pointed wings, and often a deeply forked tail and that feed on insects caught on the wing"

Swallowtail-: "[noun] a large brightly colored butterfly with projections suggestive of a swallow's tail on the hind wings"

Swamp-: "[noun] an area of low-lying, uncultivated ground where water collects"

Swan-: "[noun] a large waterbird with a long flexible neck, short legs, webbed feet, a broad bill, and typically all-white plumage"

Sweet-: "[adj] having the pleasant taste characteristic of sugar or honey. Not salty, sour, or bitter; [adj] pleasing in general, aka delightful"

Sweetgum-: "[noun] the North American liquidambar, which yields a balsam and decorative heartwood"

Swift-: "[noun] a swift-flying insectivorous bird with long, slender wings and a superficial resemblance to a swallow, spending most of its life on the wing; [noun] any of five species of fast-flying moths of the family Hepialidae, regarded as primitive in development, having forewings and hind wings similar in size and shape; [adj] happening quickly or promptly"

Swirl-: "[verb] move in a twisting or spiraling pattern; [noun] a quantity of something moving in a swirl"

Sycamore-: "[noun] a large Eurasian maple with winged fruits, native to central and southern Europe"

[pentuppen]

I'm still alive!!!

Figured I'd go ahead and give you guys a sneak peek of one of the stories I'm currently working on. It's a compilation of short stories (around 30-50 pages per story) that I hope to put together and see what kind of magic happens.

It sucks that I don't have time to continue my fics at the moment, but hopefully this will tide a few people over before everyone's hyperfixation switches to dragon age lol.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Fuck it, he thought to himself. Loud it is.

Four rifles thundered in unison, filling the tiny room with an acrid sulfur smell that almost reminded him of home. Four voices clamored in panic when he didn't stop moving and instead lunged forward and grabbed the first soldier with a hand large enough to palm his whole face. He could feel the man trying to fumble the rifle between them as the continents of his skull suddenly fractured and split themselves into independent islands of pain beneath squeezing fingers. He threw the first man aside, snatching up the rifle of the soldier behind him and driving his fist through his chest. He moved fast enough that the soldier’s ribs barely had time to graze his knuckles before his spine erupted from the middle of his back.

The butt of a rifle struck his temple several times as he pulled his dripping fist free. Ezra turned to glare at the third soldier who appeared almost demented in his pointless effort to put him down and put him down fast. He watched the man’s fear bulge from his eyes when he turned his head and felt the twitch of that hated connection, right before the soldier became a pillar of screaming agony and flame. The remaining soldier had enough sense to back up a few steps before throwing aside his gun and falling to his knees, though much of that sense fell away when he closed his eyes, rapidly stammering out a prayer over tightly clasped hands.

If God were ever inclined to assist this particular specimen of human waste, and Ezra highly doubted it, it would only be in the sense that his death came quickly. His body was obliterated between the rough rock walls and a heavy filing cabinet that Ezra shoved across the room with all the force of a charging bull. The metallic clang of its impact was soon joined by the blare of an alarm that wound itself up into a full throated yell, alerting the rest of the compound. He didn’t even stop to check the guards for keys to the door cutting off Wagner’s dungeon from the rest of the facility.

As more heavy booted feet pounded towards him, the door blew outwards, tearing off its hinges and colliding with another group of soldiers. Those who avoided being flattened by several pounds of sandwiched steel, suddenly found themselves frantically beating at sapling flames that crawled across their flesh and rooted themselves to become a flourishing inferno. Ezra ignored the flames which did little more than tickle his flesh as he passed through them, shrugging off the charred hands that tried to reach out for him.

He was getting in his stride now.

His terrible momentum took him around a corner as he rolled up his sleeves and began to whistle the opening bars of the 1812 overture. The song was paused when the skinny woman in the lab coat half stumbled into the corridor from one of the side rooms. Her rage was a pyroclastic flow of screamed oaths that promised to lay him in pieces at the feet of her beloved reich. Her declarations were reinforced by the open black eye of a ruger, punctuating every manic threat with a loud report, propelling her hate on the wind of each bullet as she backed up down the corridor.

It wasn’t that he minded being shot in particular, his body rejected the bullets much like an oilskin coat will reject the rain. But he did find himself disappointed in the stupidity of continuing to put holes in his chest and face despite all evidence that this did not work. By the time the woman finally came to the same conclusion, her fingers were caught in his grip, almost breaking around the butt of the gun as he slowly forced her hand to raise itself and the gun to her temple.

Some of that zealous fervor fell from her eyes as he smiled down at her, her thin lips trembling before she grit her teeth and pulled the trigger. The dry click from the emptied gun was the last thing she heard before a blow from his hand drove its barrel through the side of her skull. She fell limp and twitching to the floor, and the overture continued, as he stepped over her to get to the door at the end of the hall. 

The whistled tune preceded his descent down concrete steps that fed into the bunker that had been dug and walled off below. He’d say one thing for the Nazi’s, they were efficient at setting things up on the fly. The bunker was no shoddy affair of mud and timber struts. The walls were concrete and the floor tiled, the electric lights strung along the walls barely flickering as he made his way, unaccosted for now. 

The next ten minutes were a lesson of the kind of barbarity that even the devil himself would wince at. It wasn’t the gore or the clear mistreatment that had been visited on the creatures he found in cells and laid out on tables that offended him. It was the negligent abundance and lack of any art to it. Every soul was specially catered to in the hells he came from. Admittedly it was their eternal damnation and torture that was catered to, but every soul received its due respect and attention.

Warner played with his toys with the same mindset of a small boy who took apart the toaster just to see what was inside. It was a waste.

Before he came to the steel bulkhead door behind which he was sure his quarry lay, Ezra came upon only one person with enough left in them to look alive. She was barely recognizable as a human, let alone a woman. The face that peered up at him from the filthy palette on the floor was half melted by a collection of sores that had been left to fester and run together. Only her eyes gave her anything near a human appearance, eyes as blue as the underside of an iceberg. She could barely lift her head and he could practically feel the fever of her afflictions baking off her body.

There was little time for small mercies, but he still bent at the knees and took that swollen disfigured face in his hands. He watched those blue eyes fill with tears that were almost certainly for the ruin he must see when he looked at her. Sores broke under even the lightest pressure of his hands, and yet he still bent and pressed a lovers kiss to her uneven mouth. He tasted the bitterness of her diseases and smelled the long death that awaited her as those lips continued to tremble against his own.

The last thought in the young woman’s head was the thrill of her first kiss at 15 years old. She smelled the evocative scent of sheeps wool and camphor, and died in an old lover's arms when Ezra quickly and humanely snapped her neck.

He couldn’t really explain why he chose to do this, it certainly didn’t give him a warm and fulfilling feeling to end her suffering. Nor would he say that this mercy or the countless others he might take it upon himself to commit, wiped any of the long years of blood from his hands. If pressed he would simply shrug and say that some things simply had to be done.

[sylvaridreams]

I cut out some off topic chatter and fixed a couple typos but otherwise this is copy paste from discord, followed by some more from just me. Diving into Alba, his status as a leader and symbolic figure, his relationships with friends and lovers, and his relationship with himself.

(Long post ahead.)

Dama: tbqh i'm wondering how much longer his relationship with canach can or will last.... they love each other but the conditions keep getting more and more strained it feels like. now alba's vanished again…

Sage: I was wondering that too actually like. Wondering how strong it can last, esp since things were pretty separate for eod and haven't exactly gotten better since

Dama: canach maybe tries to find him during this... like alba was notably in the grove, giving interviews, canach tries to get ahold of him (maybe they had plans for later) and alba just never responds or shows up. stands him up and canach's like ok. well i can wait, he's probably having one of his moments.

Dama: and then weeks pass and nothing.

Dama: and then months. at some point he has to assume alba's either dead or just moved on.

Dama: letters not only being ignored but coming back return to sender. 🧍‍♂️ like "unable to locate" kind of shit

Dama: it's not like anyone else in what was once dragon's watch knows where he is either

Sage: The only one you'd be able to rely on to track him down is honestly MEISI. And..well.

Dama: my god Ivan is literally the last person who talked to him isn't he (editing note: I don't think Alba even speaks when Zojja uses his comms to call Taimi later.)

Dama: and then these demons start cropping up all over the world and its like. god. things look grim enough with just that but it appears the commander has either died or just left. and he's known for just leaving, and he's also known for doing things to put himself in danger, so. after some time canach probably just... finishes the grieving he's already started years ago, and tries to move on

Dama: i think it would hit alba hard if canach just moved on. 🧍‍♂️ a real blow to the chest.

Sage: The commnach economy is in fucking shambles

Dama: because in HIS head they're a sure thing possibly forever.... yeah i was away for a few months doing wizard shit why would you just assume i was dead?

Dama: "you didn't write me" well i. i. didn't think it would reach you.

Sage: And away for a year before that because of the tiger. And -

Dama: at some point i think canach wouldn't be willing to take him back either. at least not right now. work on yourself a bit man.

Dama: take care of yourself so you don't hurt the next person to fall in love with you.

Sage: Albas fucked up and struggling but canach is allowed to be and feel hurt because good lord.

Dama: canach has been a good sport about it for a long time but he made it clear when they started dating-dating and not just fooling around that he had his own issues and that he had boundaries and limits to what he could help with or tolerate or be around. and alba has pushed those limits almost non stop

Sage: ALBA YOU IDIOT YOU LOST THE 10/10 CACTUS

Dama: (in game screenshot reading…

Alba Moonseeker: Does what make me angry?

Peitha: The fact that everyone doesn't immediately bathe in your excellence.)

Sage: Hope how casual and informally indifferent meisi is with him now on average helps.

Dama: WHY ARENT YOU BATHING IN HIS EXCELLENCE MEISI :cry2:

Sage: Hes been there for it all it wasn't excellent

Sage: Meisis been there for it all from.a little sapling in the vigil to dragons dying to morning a charred corpse on a plateau. He respects alba, he loves alba, he had a crush on him a fuckin millenia ago. But hes never, will never deify alba.

Sage: Even among dragons watch hes a rare gaze that Just Sees a Person.

Dama: a person who can be incredibly shitty as a friend sometimes, lbr

Dama: his "I'd save the village" ass. Liar.

Sage: Probably doesn't even know one of meisis partners might die /s

Sage: Again. Meisi stays. Its more of a headache and a chore than a friendship the last few years but. If his presence does anything to help stabilize alba it is likely worth it. Even for what he has/hasn't done meisi doesn't think he deserves cutoff isolation

Dama: no but fr does he ask meisi how things are, does he take an interest in these things, or is it all take and very little give from him much of the time? you have to tell alba something's up for him to inquire about it, he won't go seeking you out to check on you.... case in point, zojja post-maguuma. his little "i would have loved to have seen her" was such bullshit to me. what stopped you buddy? never once did he Try to go find her. does he know one of meisi's partners might die... probably not, or he doesn't know the full extent of it. i don't think it's a lack of interest in people or anything, i don't think it's fully intentional, but i do think he's kind of selfish and self centered and zoomed in on his own stuff. being a hero. being THE hero.

Dama: "I'd save the village." but you don't know who any of the villagers are beyond the surface level "villager" title. you don't ask how they are. and meanwhile the dragon's champion is razing the next village over because you had to pat yourself on the back again.

Sage: Hes so focused on saving the world hes lost connection with it

Dama: i think at his base alba is a lonely person because he does things to keep himself alone. and that's why he's perfect for heroics and perfect for the pedestals that he gets lifted up onto. the commander, the hero of tyria and amnoon and cantha, the wayfinder. pinning titles to his lapels like war trophies. meanwhile he doesn't know the most base things about his closest friends. doesnt know Zeeki's dying, doesn't know almost anything about Bourbon's backstory, he only knows so much about Auruim because Auru is loud and pushy about rubbing alba's face in things. Thiiyf had to walk away from the Pact, she could have stayed by his side into Lws3 and beyond but she couldn't stand to be involved with him any longer knowing how limited her time was.

Dama: he sees his friends as not caring about him when the world doesn't need saving, well? do you care about your friends? ever?

Dama: dragon's watch is basically defunct with soo won gone -- yeah and i bet these people still make an effort to keep in contact and share things from their lives while he runs around getting hurt and being miserable and bemoaning that no one needs the commander. i love him so much god

Dama: bottom line I think that the guild and others "only reach out when the world needs saving" because. alba doesn't care unless the world needs saving.

Dama: it would be such a funny (not funny) gut punch for him to see how much everyone has moved forward in their personal lives and still stayed connected while he was. doing what? whatever. like he felt like such an outsider with the wizards and all, these guys all know each other and he's just some random from Tyria... but he doesn't know his friends either.

Dama: he's a stranger to them too.

Dama: I think he went to Rama's party primarily because he was desperate and hoping that someone would drop a big adventure on the table for the guild to go conquer as a team.

Dama: i would find it so funny if the next time he sees someone from dragon's watch they showed up with a kid and he's like haha whose baby is this then and they're like ??? commander this is my daughter....? i wrote you a letter when she was born, didn't you... read it? and everyone's quietly uncomfortable because of COURSE he didn't.

Sage: Its sad to think that *meisi* is probably more knowledgeable about what deidre means to Auru god d a m n.

Dama: of course he is, Meisi takes an actual interest in Auruim.

Alba is overall a man desperate for approval and love. He's a bad friend and lover because he only cares when the stakes are world ending, and people don't seem to care about or like him much because Alba doesn't care about or like himself. He's unable to wrap his head around a trolley problem like "would you go kill the dragon's champion on the mountain, or would you save a village from bandits" as a philosophical question because to him the "correct" answer boils down to "which one is going to make people love me?" He wouldn't save the farm, not as long as there was anything bigger and more important to do.

Being elevated to the pedestal of Commander as a sapling and then left up there for over a decade has made him incapable of seeing eye to eye with other people, even friends and lovers, not with his massive ego in the way. In a way I think that 13 years of nonstop warfare has just traumatized him to where he can't see himself as a singular small person, he has to be the face of an army, the face of heroism, and it doesn't help that he’s always going to be the Commander, hero of amnoon, dragon's champion, now wayfinder. Not a person, just a symbol.

SotO has been fascinating because not only is he treated as an outsider to a group of people so close to one another that they're family–outside looking in at healthy, real interpersonal relationships– he's also treated with revile and hatred by people within the fractals that he's "failed" – thinking specifically about the Zaishen and refugees in the Elona fractal. Their version of him failed to do the good deed, kill the big bad, win the wars, and so they hate him, and it's been a LONG time since random innocents have treated Alba that way. It took me back to the start of Lws4 when people were running from the branded attacks on Amnoon, shouting at him "You said this wouldn't happen, you said we were safe, you said you'd protect us and it was over," etc. Forcibly rubbing his face in (a version of) his failures and telling him YOU fucked this one up. The first time in a long time that people who "should" revere his symbol instead spit on it and deny him the love he needs. Maybe that *is* what he needs. To be kicked down and told he's done wrong and he can't fix it. Maybe he needs more failures under his belt, failed attempts, failed relationships, so he can finally value what he has.

I don't know right now if he and Canach will try again later on; currently the plan is that in a few months, Alba will make some sort of contact with his old guild and be told, essentially "we assumed you were dead or had left us, either way we've moved on in these ways and suggest you do too," and Canach will inform him that the same is true for their relationship; i.e. you either died or disappeared again, and I can't keep doing this either way. I've mourned you enough already. Go deal with your problems and learn to treat people who care about you like people who you care about rather than props and side characters to your A-plot.

I could definitely say more on that but I'll wait until I get some lore figured out and posted for Auru and Bourbon for SotO. :)

[floordive]

Oasis at the End of the World

My homeworld is dead Desolate and charred I spend my days searching for signs of life or something to help me remember where I'm supposed to go

One day, I find a small sapling I pray it will rain soon Some days later I find a tree that isn’t dead I start remembering things The birch tree in the yard where I lived A cat lying in a sunny garden

I don’t know for how many years I've been away I must have been a child back then My hands look older than I feel they should

I don’t know what feeling grips me when I see lights in the windows of my old home The curtains are the same

Three knocks Six seconds Two eyes You ask me why I knocked Then you smile and ask me how my day was I don't know what to say You give me a tight hug I don't let go, I'm scared because I know I haven't really come home

[willtheweaver]

Find the word tag

Tagged by @indecentpause . Seeing if I can find the words.

The words I was to look for are: fear, faith, fail, fight

Excerpts from WIP A Feather in the Forest

Fear

———————————————————————

“My Tha, if you would allow me to speak. I ask that Caine and I be allowed to raise the crow.”

Opal turned her red eyes on Sorrel before she spoke.

“Caine…our former First Hunter. Now bound to the home after losing a leg. Out in the forest is where both your hearts lie, and raising a child is going into the unknown. Much learning there needs to be. And the time together may be all too brief, I fear. Even so, there is no denying that you were meant for each other. Finding life amid the smoking ruins of the dead camp was more than pure chance. Some may say it was the will of Al-Gia.”

———————————————————————

Faith

———————————————————————

Fen heard the sound of a bowstring twang, and saw an arrow flying. Quill’s aim was true. The shaft buried itself in the deer’s chest, just behind and above the front leg. It was over as quickly as it began.

“You did it!” Fen exclaimed.

“Deer was moving so fact I don’t think I would make the shot.” Quill confessed.

“I had faith in you.” Fen answered.

———————————————————————

Fail(ed)

———————————————————————

“To be honest, I was afraid.” Fen answered honestly. “Afraid of what might happen if anyone found out. My mother told me enough for me to know that I had to keep secrets. I isolated myself; didn’t even try to befriend anybody out of fear that someone would find out. But I failed at that. I got to know most of you.”

———————————————————————

Fight

———————————————————————

Almost due south, they [Sorrel and Volt] came to a spot where the trees were singed and blackened on one side. Further in, branches and entire saplings were burned to char and ash. Sorrel wrinkled her nose. The smoke was stale, the flames that had sprouted them were long dead. But there was so much of it. This was no campfire that had gotten out of hand; this was more likely the aftermath of a fight. The fur on both foxes stood on end.

——————���————————————————

Tagging @winterandwords , @athenswrites , @bunnymermaidwrites , plus open tag for any who want to join in.

Your words are: Warm(th), trust, leap, gamble

[xiaolin-revival]

Whos the baby wood dragon? New char or returning cast? Theyre cute either way! I wanna squish em!

It's supposed to be ambiguous cause its supposed to represent any Dragon Saplings in general. This is all part of my homebrew lore that will be explored in the fic.

Also thank you!

[brax-was-here]

Scarlet Briar: Redemptions End

Chapter XX: Of Thorn and Vine, Root and Tree

The silence had become deafening. What was just moments before, the violent destruction of shade energy of the Aspect, now only still calmness. Ceara floated in the sea of ley energy that swirled around the lair of the former jungle dragon. Tiny bolts of lightning arced over her periodically as images flashed through her mind.

“It’s finally gone. This shadow…whatever this energy was. The last of it. Destroyed.” She raised her hands in front of her, staring at her palms. Her bioluminescence glowing brightly.

Standing on the ridge of the lair, the group who just moments before were fighting creatures of shadow, all of which dissipated quickly once the Aspect had been vanquished.

“What is she doing?” Liathlas asked, turning to Amaranda, a concerned tone in her voice.

Amaranda stared at her sister as she floated in the ley energy. “I don’t know.”

“This power…” Ceara murmured as she slowly closed her hands. “I can do anything…”

“It is not yours to control.” A tiny voice spoke in the back of her mind. Ceara closed her eyes, furrowing her brow.

“It will lead you on a dark journey. A path you walked once before in your life.” The voice continued.

“Little sister…” a familiar voiced spoke around her. Ceara opened her eyes with a start.

“You’re still here…” she whispered. “You…were not destroyed with the shadows.”

“There are those that have come to care for you. That love you.” The swirling mists cleared slightly. Ceara turned her head, looking down at the group standing on the ridge.

“Your family. Do not throw them away.” His voice continued.

“Amee…” Ceara started, pausing to draw a deep breath. “There is one last thing I must do.” She raised her hands in front of her.

“What are you doing?” The tiny voice spoke in her mind.

“Of thorn and vine, root and tree. Just as you were, so you shall be.” Ceara voice boomed through the lair. Lightning arced throughout the pool of energy as she started to glow. The sounds of shattering rock were heard as vines of varying sizes sprouted from deep within the pool, twisting together, forming an arcing spire, its tip curled towards her. 

“What’s going on? What is she doing!?” Orla asked.

“Power readings are going berserk!” Shikijo shouted.

“Watch out!” Joujou slapped the reader from his hands. Lightning struck at the device as it bounced across the ground, it’s charred remains coming to rest against a root. They watched as numerous leaves quickly sprouted from the towering vine, wrapping around themselves, quickly forming into an enclosure.

“Is that…is that what I think it is?” Orla gasped.

“A pod.” Shikijo spoke.

“Like those that grow on the Pale Tree.” Amaranda stood stunned. “Ceara…”

In the Grove, the Avatar of the Pale Tree spoke softly with some newly born saplings.

“And when the time comes, and you go out into the world…” She paused. Something was tugging at the Dream of Dreams.

“Mother, what is it?” one of the saplings asked.

She turned her gaze to the skies east of the Grove. “My child…” she spoke.

Ceara’s gazed was fixated on the newly formed pod before her. Lightning arced across her body, slowly burning away the leathery parts of her armor. Her foliage wilting, falling from her head from the intense heat. She ignored the pain of her burning skin as she focused on what lay within.

Time seemed to stand still as the group watched in silence what was unfolding before them.

“Now…” Ceara sputtered. Lightning violently struck at the pod, arcing over its shell. Slowly the leaves started to peel away until it fell open, revealing the form of one who was lost years ago.

“Trahearne!” Amaranda gasped.

“The firstborn.” Liathlas and Orla looked at each other.

“This is amazing!” Shikijo shouted. His celebration was cut short by Joujou smacking him on the shoulder. 

Ceara stared at Trahearne’s body. The firstborn curled in a fetal position. Slowly opening his eyes. he raised his head to look at Ceara, smiling gently at her.

A smile crept across her face as a tear slowly rolled down her cheek.

Trahearne stood slowly, stepping out of the pod into the swirling pool of energy. He reached out and gently took her hands in his.

“Little sister…” He spoke softly.

Amaranda felt a familiar presence nearby. Slightly turning her head to look to the west rim of the lair she could make out Ventari’s spirit watching from an outcropping of rock.

“I never foresaw this.” He muttered to himself. “It seems she has made her choice of the path she will follow. Redemption. The burning away of past sins.” He chuckled to himself. “Young Ceara of the Grove, I pray your child doesn’t turn out like you did.” He looked towards the group, smiling wryly before disappearing.

Ceara looked at Trahearne. “Fir…first….firstborn…” Her voice was raspy and frail. “I’m…sorry…I’m…so…sorry…” Her eyes rolled back as she collapsed unconscious. Trahearne caught her as she began to fall, holding her in front of him as he floated through the ley energy, landing where the group was waiting.

[cogaytes]

final round of roisin's reading rumble!

@camelspit @arson-anarchy-death

name: adeen rosalia vacker

ability: pyrokinetic

backstory:

adeen's father, elas vacker, was the sister of luzia vacker; her mother, lyrie vacker (née heks). like his sister, elas was a flasher, and lyrie a guster.

adeen manifested as a pyrokinetic at age thirteen, toward the end of level two—one thursday ability detecting session found her locked in a freezer for two hours with the other prodigies, only to realize that anyone standing near her found themselves noticeably colder, and the ice at her feet had melted. she had been sucking body heat away from anyone nearby. at the time, pyrokinesis was one of the most celebrated abilities, brought to fame by the success of councillor fintan pyren, who had invented a type of containable flame called balefire. lady nuria oriane, a close friend of adeen's aunt luzia and an accomplished pyrokinetic who practiced often with councillor fintan, was chosen as her mentor.

adeen struggled significantly with keeping her ability under control at first, becoming known for lighting the tips of her hair on fire by mistake whenever her temper flared. she would wake up wreathed in flames whenever she had a nightmare. her parents did their best to be supportive, but especially as a member of such a prestigious family, the rumors spread amongst citizens—and the other prodigies—were often cruel. adeen pretended not to let it bother her, but worked tirelessly to gain control over her ability until she was no longer bursting into flames at inopportune moments.

adeen began to excel in her pyrokinesis sessions, demonstrating ability far behind her age, to the point where when she was fourteen (just a few weeks away from starting level four), lady nuria invited her to witness a historic experiment hosted by none other than councillor fintan himself. he was to teach four experienced pyrokinetics—including lady nuria—how to summon a new type of fire he'd discovered, with adeen as an observer studying their technique to learn from hit herself. but the pyrokinetics grew arrogant. they assumed everblaze—as fintan called it—was just like any other flame: harmless to them, and easy to control. they held the lesson in the lighthouse at brumevale, to be close to the sun. the fog in the air and disconnected steps meant that when it all went wrong, the fire never reached the ground. but the lighthouse was wood, and it caught ablaze mere seconds after everblaze was first summoned. the pyrokinetics never stood a chance. only councillor fintan managed to escape in time.

after the untimely deaths of five elves—one a child—calls went out to limit the practice of pyrokinesis altogether, and even councillor fintan himself voted in favor of the ban despite it forcing him to resign from the council. luzia vacker, having lost her friend nuria and her young niece in one fell swoop, was among its most vocal supporters. adeen's planting was held several days later; only a few burnt hairs could be recovered from brumevale. her tree never seemed to grow much larger than a sapling, and the bark was dark and flaky in places, like it was charred.

fintan learned to bury his own memories very quickly after that, to save himself from breaking from guilt. elas wasn't so lucky; they say he was never quite the same after losing his daughter. now, when another short pyrokinetic with wavy blonde hair and pale blue eyes visits his cell, fintan can't help but be reminded of a face. it's buried too deep for him to know it as that of the mentee of one of his best friends and partners in crime, the little girl who was like a niece to him as well.

notes:

adeen, in shannon naming tradition, is gaelic for "little flame)

i chose her parents' abilities to be a blend of elemental and light, explaining how they could potentially combine into pyrokinesis

luzia vacker canonically was an avid supporter of the ban because she lost a close friend in the accident; i chose to add on a niece as well

the pyrokinesis "symptoms" are all inspired by ones marella canonically had

since ability detecting for frosters involved being in a furnace, i tweaked it for pyrokinesis

brumevale had a "complicated history" in canon and i decided that a) it would be fitting to have this be what tiergan refers to and b) it could explain how and why the neverseen found and destroyed it

fun fact adeen never got the chance to reach marella's age

appearance:

adeen, age 14

wanderling (black is supposed to be charred bits; imagine the leaves and fruit paler)

[primordyalsoul]

"aaand… here," jamie hands rei his newly made, do-it-yourself piping bag of frosting that he's hoping will work! in front of them on the counter is several batches of cupcakes ; likely for some school event. they're… a little charred, but jamie claims it adds character.

"you can decorate 'em however you want. maybe draw a self portrait? i'll do one if you do. then we can eat 'em. our faces."

( they r baking  together…. and he's in a silly mood !!)

@jfouler | cute baking shenanigans !

The air is heavy and warm in the kitchen, setting around her in an embrace of sweet vanilla. Batter still lodged under short nails, a forgotten swipe of flour across her cheek, ruby eyes are fixed upon his hands with rapt attention. ( it had often laid dormant, this sapling of curiosity, crushed under her own foot with the knowledge that she was simply not meant to indulge in this life. yet it still grew through the cracks of her existentialism : when had she ever gotten her hands dirty like this ? when had she ever felt so content ? )

Strange hues shine as she takes the bag carefully into her hands. The icing was bright and enticing but she doesn't move to use it yet, glancing between it and him. Inept at living, it was hard not to hesitate even at the simplest action : the cupcakes weren't perfect by any means ( neither of them were the most experienced baker ) but still, there was the worry of doing something wrong, of acting without direction.

Then he's suggesting something absurd and she jerks her head, baffled, mouth twisting as if to say something before it shifts into a smile, a small giggle escaping in a breath. Her worry melts away like butter.

❝ We should make blue icing then. ❞ Her smile lingers as she turns to start decorating, hands moving carefully ; the icing was paler than her, but it would make for a good base for the face.

❝ Will you give. . .cake you glasses ? ❞

[dragon-phoenix-along]

It would also be wonderful if the reverse was true,,,

Someone starts a massive forest fire in order to hatch the baby sized egg which radiates heat like a small oven.

They take wealth, or find wealth and surround their egg with it. It’s hoard started by another.

Trees felled, land mass cleared, and a trip wire started from afar. Someone lights the forest ablaze to watch the smoke curl in the distance.

They wait and watch for several days hoping that the timber around the egg was enough, as no fireless beast would even begin to hope to create such a flame ever again.

And when the flames start to dwindle, they match their way in. And claim the small sleepy scaled beast that’s scales shine of molten gold.

And as they raise this dragon, the land around it flourishes. Only a year after the fire, and new saplings have sprouted up, reaching for the sky in a race humans will never seen the end of.

The animals return my the time the molten gold has settled into the dragons skin. No bigger than a fence the chick hunts rodents and brings them to you, almost like a cat.

Except for the fact that a cat dose not demand you char-grill it’s good before it’s willing to eat it.

If they were smart, the chicks parent would have found a cave to settle by before the chick started it’s hoarding tendencies.

If not, they may have to deal with a house filled with whatever the chick views as valuable. And at such a young age, there may be a chance this is rocks, to un-cured pelts.

The first bear re-appears when the young wyrum starts trying to fly. The wyrum is the side of a horse at this point, and has been living along side you for long enough it can now fluently write an read your own tong.

The molten gold from its hatching runs within the dragons veins, helping it pump its wings and glide.

Flying comes when the young blood is the size of a house.

And as it’s human guardian passes on, the gilded dragon grows alongside its forest. Horns spiraling up like it’s trees, animals fast and fleeing.

The heart of this forest burns.

i think that killing a dragon should have catastrophic nuclear-fallout level environmental consequences tbh. their blood should scorch and wither the earth with fire and poison, the toxic fumes released as they decay should choke the land and all nearby living creatures, and the entire landscape where they fell should be transformed into a blighted wasteland where bleached leviathan bones loom upwards out of the ground as a warning that can be seen from miles away, the boundary markers of an exclusion zone.